Market of Bree RP

The fair valley of Rivendell, upon whose house the stars of heaven most brightly shone.
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Bree stood at an old meeting of ways, drawing strange visitors from near and far. Although the North Road and the Greenway are seldom used, a myriad of itinerant merchants and travelling entertainers come to its bustling Market via the East-West Road. There are established store buildings which have sold their products for many years but foreign vendors sell their wares from stalls & horse-drawn caravans on the cobbled streets and musicians perform for the villagers on the lawn of Bree-town. Enjoy your stay and make your coin but caution is encouraged. There's been odd strangers up from the south and not all of them have been kind; there are whispers also of an underground crime syndicate doing shady dealings here. The peace of the community is threatened but the Market endures and is open from dawn to dusk. The Hill Watchers are patrolling the Market, guarding businesses and villagers from thieves and ruffians causing mischief alone or by the command of organized crime...

The time is autumn and the weather is pleasantly cool. The trees of the woodland nestling Bree-hill are arrayed in lovely fall splendor, their bright leaves blown astir by a gentle fall zephyr. William Wonderboom, an eccentric baker and candyman of legendary repute, has finally appeared in Breetown after a long hiatus. He has arranged hot chocolate stations around the market for these specialty drinks to be sold for a silver coin. Old orchardist Wes Marble has his booths set up for hot spiced apple and pumpkin ciders, cheaply gotten for five copper coins.

More stalls or stores are needed! You can fill the form below in your IC posts and I'll add it to this OP so we can have a record
of businesses, including owners and employees (Plaza members or NPCs); if you'd like to work for a particular owner, you can ask her/him in the Imladris OOC, https://lotrfanaticsplaza.com/forum/vie ... ?f=10&t=34. There will be a security roster, also. Anyone playing a Hill Watcher will receive points to be counted for promotion in the Bree-land Constabulary which is being made anew by me on Narv Plaza; the HQ thread will be created sometime this month.


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Vendors

Store Owner: William Wonderboom (Aig's NPC)
Race: Mortal
Occupation: Baker / Candymaker
Business: "The Sweet Spot"
Selling: Offering the greatest mouthwatering confections in town! Candy apples, soft and hard candy, toffee and tarts, nougats and pastries, pies and seed-cakes, scroggin for bushwalkin' and more scrumdiddlyumptious treats! Chocolate products are produced from the cocoa beans of the cacao trees endemic to the tropical jungle south of Umbar; these are supplied by Wonderboom's mysterious benefactor named Kfir and are now available for purchase. C'mon in! Everything is satisfying and delicious...
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Store Owner: Kathryn Sunflower and Erin Firethorn (Aig's NPCs)
Race: Mortal
Occupation: Bookwomen
Business: "Coralbell & Clementine"
Selling: A centuries-old three-story stone building. Books (fiction and non-fiction, journals, cookbooks, etc.) are sold here including The Bree-land Gazette, calendars and updated maps, stationery and writing utensils. There is a garden and feast hall where readers & Market visitors can relax or socialize depending on the weather.
Floor Staff: Annabelle Snapdragon, bookseller (Aig's NPC). More employees welcome!

Store Owner: Oliver Rowan (NPC'd by Aig)
Race: Human
Store: "Treasures of Arda"
Selling: An antique shop and musuem displaying and selling well-preserved relics of the past not just of Cardolan's ancient monarchy but also valuables from afar. Although there are expensive items here, there are plenty of trinkets and oddities and baubles sold at affordable prices. Expect a history lesson for some merchandise; Oliver is a sage and the cousin of Kathryn Sunflower who is Bree-town's Wisewoman.
Floor Staff: Employees Welcome! Ones who can work in the store but also brave souls who want to be Oliver's treasure-seekers, exploring the ruins of Eriador to supply him with antiques; these characters will also be played in my upcoming Cardolan Adventures RP/Game thread.

Owner: Dave Bugloss (Aig's NPC)
Race: Mortal
Store: "The Blue Box"
Selling: This is an apothecary's shop selling medicinal supplies, including elixers and herbs and salves. The shop is painted blue and is rather small but somehow it looks bigger on the inside. The Doctor, David Bugloss X, is here to suit your medical needs.
Floor Staff: Rose Field (Aig's NPC). More employees welcome!

Vendor: Sanikolas, "Nick / Santa" (Aig's NPC)
Race: Dwarf
Stall: "The Marvellous and Magical Toy Emporium"
Selling: This portly cheerful Dwarf of Erebor sells enchanted toys, dolls, mechanical puzzles, board games, puppets, hoops, songboxes, spinning tops, and more! Consider yourselves lucky; he only comes to Bree for the autumn so he can return to Dale in time for Yuletide. It is said that Dwarves do not reveal their true names and the ones they use are of Northen (Mannish) origin. He is known to the Bree-landers as Sanikolas but they casually refer to him as Santa or Nick for short.
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Store Owner: Terrence Goosefoot (Aig's NPC)
Race: Hobbit
Store: "Top Hats"
Selling: Hats of various styles for men, women, children, Wizards, and halflings! Terry is a bit mad, perhaps due to the use of mercury in his hatmaking, so please bear with the Hobbit's loss of memory, stumbling, halluincations, and loony behavior....
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Store Owner: Jacinda Manyflower (Aig's NPC)
Race: Hobbit
Store: "Good Fellow"
Selling: Pipes and Pipeweed! The tobacco Jackie sells is not as good as the Shire's Old Toby but is, you guessed it, a good fellow!
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Vendor: Aewrusca Mordagnir (Aig's NPC)
Race: Elf
Stall: "Fragrances of Imladris"
Selling: Timeless and alluring, dreamy perfumes crafted in the paradise of Rivendell. Smell like an Elf!

Vendor: Aigronding Mordagnir
Race: Elf
Stall: "Elven Cider"
Selling: Fermented pears and blackberries from an elven orchard of Rivendell! The beverages are rich and tart with a touch of sweetness.

Monetary System:

10 copper coins = 1 silver coin

10 silver coins = 1 electum coin

10 electum coins = 1 gold coin

Bartering is also acceptable.

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Hill Watchers

Sheriff Miles Brackenbrook (Aig's NPC)
Commander Vincent Snapdragon (Aig's NPC)


More Hill Watchers welcome! If interested, I can give you one of the following ranks: Constable, Sergeant, Inspector, Commander. Your posts will count towards promotion.
Last edited by Eriol on Sun Sep 20, 2020 3:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

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Elven Stalls
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Aigronding, a tall and broad-shouldered Elf-lord of Imladris, was an inposing figure on the streets of Bree, being one of the few merchants of the Firstborn Market to appear this morning. He had been gone an hour and was just now returning. While Fuin and his children organized the Tingdain and Linyamaril stalls, Aigronding had visited the Inn of the Prancing Pony. While there he met with his Dúnedain and Watcher contacts for news and to hear the latest gossip from the locals. Most of what he heard distressed him but he mastered his concern so he wouldn't alarm Aewrusca. He resolved to speak with Fuin and Tavari about the disappearances in the Chetwood and the Greenway ruffians at home, including the evil which Eastern Dwarves were escaping from.

He came back to the Market now, his silver-lined blue cape catching the fall breeze, as the sun rose higher in the clouded sky banishing the dark shadows of predawn. Calselda, the golden-haired older daughter with deceptive doll-like features, wore a white fur hooded cloak over a white gold-embroidered dress instead of armor. She was listening to Aewrusca, who was speaking animatedly about the drinks she held in burr-birch tankards. The hood of her mink cloak she wore over her purple cotehardie was pulled over her red locks.

"Since Nariel or Airien aren't here, I need someone to help me make an important life decision," said Aewrusca with a grave countenance. "Regular or mint?"

"Trying a new beverage, I see, ninya moina," guessed Aigronding. He needed to raise his voice a little above the joyful music of a hurdy-gurdy.

"Hot chocolate, Ada!" Aewrusca answered, blue eyes aglow with excitement. "William Wonderboom brewed it with seeds from a cacao tree a Southerner named Kfir gave him. Some of the villagers prefer William's chocolate hot but Kfir says it's meant to be drank cold and sweetened with all kinds of spice or honey."

Aigronding quelled a sudden surge of dread. "Just Kfir?" he wondered, hoping she knew his surname but Aewrusca gave an indifferent shrug, saying she didn't know. Aewrusca handed her sister one of the cups since Calselda was always eager to learn the ways of humans.

"I will sell the cider but who will remain here with me to handle the perfume sales first?" said Aigronding and laced his hands behind his back, looking from one Elf-girl to the next. They both glared at each other over their tankard rims as they drank deeply. Bree was one of their favorite haunts in Eriador and they didn't come this way often. "Aewrusca, I'm glad you volunteered!" Aigronding said happily and laughed when she groaned. He told Calselda to enjoy her shopping but to return in a couple hours so Aewrusca could have her fun.

"Are you ready?" he asked, observing the arrangement of beautiful containers Aewrusca arrayed across the stall's wooden counter. Airien - the cousin of Aigronding's wife - had filled vessels of wood and clay, glass bottles of dramatic colors, painted vases shaped in the semblance of animals, and hollowed precious stones to hold the perfumes she and her maidens produced in Rivendell.

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Aewrusca hurried around the stall. She flourished her beringed hand toward a round glass bottle of vivid orange. "Endienlissë: A sweet autumn treat of heirloom pumpkin, fall cinnamon, ginger, and golden honey!" She winked one of her blue eyes.

"You have this, as they say in Bree," Aigronding assured her, unable to keep a wide smile from his lips. Airien and Nariel had molded Aewrusca well into a charming reflection of their cute selves.

"Sellin' ciders, Mordognir?" asked Wes Marble, hobbling toward the Elven stalls with the aid of a walking stick. The old chipper man wearing a tweed coat and a rabbit fur hat paused, leaning on the swallow carved handle of his cane. He looked from Aig's alcohol stall to one of his own cider stations and snorted laughter, shaking his head.

"It's Mordagnir, Wesley," Aigronding reminded him with a grimace. They were both orchardists; the elderly villager loved to tease Aigronding, his colleague, good-naturedly whenever he came to town.

"Can ya believe this joker, lady?" Wesley spoke to Fuin. "He's endangering my buisness!"

Aigronding gave him a lopsided grin. He rolled his shining blue eyes, sighing.

"Mordingdong over here," Wes railed on, "he's gonna get folks drunk while I'm tryin' to keep 'em warm and sober! It's cussin' ridonkulous, Fuin." Wes pronounced her name properly just to rankle Aigronding. "Ya oughtta take one of them daggers," he recommended, pointing his gloved finger at the weapon, "and stab Maldagnir in the throat!" He jabbed the air between him and Aigronding with his cane, chuckling.

"Don't put the idea in her head, Mr. Wes," advised Aewrusca, giggling. "Fuin might actually do it..."

"Holly loves Aig like a father but she's a goodie goodie and won't give him his comeuppance," Wes, speaking of Nariel Eregwen, said with a dejected facade but then he smirked, tapping Fuin's stall. "She looks tough though..." Sniggering, he turned to the nearest hot cider stall. He shouted at Susan Peppermint, a blonde teenage friend of his granddaughter, working the stand and told her to give Fuin a cup free of charge.
Last edited by Eriol on Wed Dec 16, 2020 8:41 am, edited 3 times in total.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

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Fuin had arrived at almost the same time as Aigronding as he had begun to set up his cider stall, she set up near him in one of the temporary stalls that were available, his children were about and setting up and it looked like Aewrusca was busy getting the perfume shop ready to go. Fuin for her part was wearing a nicer set of clothing than normal, she was still not in a dress, all of Mordagnirs family would know that would be far too much to ask of the old elleth. Instead she wore a clean set of light grey leggings with a new leaf green tunic over it with it's hems embelished with gold and silver stitched leaves, her boots were a rich brown and she did not wear a cloak for the time being, though there was one in the wagon that she had brought, not that she would need it for it was still warm enough and her elven blood made the coolness simply refreshing.


She smiled as Aewrusca spun and rattled of the scents. "She is going to be a good sales woman I will be shocked if she doesn't sell out swiftly." She said with a laugh as Wesley Marble came tottering up to the market, and Fuin dipped her head so that Aigronding couldn't see the grin that was splitting her face. "Honestly Wesley, you could easily just sell him your apples at twice the rate, then you'll be making a real decent living. Besides he's old enough he's good for it." Fuin said with a laugh. "Ohh I like that Mordingdong, I shall have to use it though I can see him trying to demote me in the Host. I've never been one to overly listen to him in that regard though have I?" She said with a laugh looking at her friend who while she couldn't see his face atm, was likely glowering at her for saying Mordingdong.

"And I'm afraid I shall not be stabbing him in the throat if I have managed to keep my dagger from his neck for over 6000 years I will probably manage it for another 6000 years." As she set the daggers down in display on the table "May I suggest taking out the back of his knees with your cane. Non-lethal can claim it's self defence." She moved over to Wesley and pointed out where to "Then you can call him Aintgotafooting." She said with a snicker.

She took the drink from Aigronding and gave him a little toast, before sipping the drink before going back to setting up her stall, the table was arrayed in swords and daggers, and sheaths for weapons, as well as bracers and various other goods that anyone would be happy to purchase in Bree. She had metal and wood plates as well as utensils with vines and leaves on them that were good for every day use as well as for fancier affairs.

"So Mordingdong how long do you expect to be open today? You've got two stalls to look after from the looks of it, should I keep an eye out for thieves for Aewrusca and put them on their backsides should the decide to make your daughters life difficult?" She looked at the young elleth. "You sir, will be on your own you can not ply protection from me with a simple drink, I know you can defend yourself and your wares." She said giving him a wink.
Sereg a Dîn

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Czarine Taiah
Human, new resident to Bree

Arnora
Human


"Come, my child, you will accompany me today to the markets. I am in need of a guide and some careful introductions around town." Czarine put away an empty mug into the sink as she watched Arnora finish up her breakfast with a sense of urgency. "Yes, Mother Czarine, of course!" Arnora started to walk away when a small clearing of the throat from Myrtle reminded her to clean up after herself. She rolled her eyes just a little bit, but turned back around and gathered up her plate and utensils, adding them to the sink next to Czarine's mug. Czarine met her at the front door, in a well-fitted, light weight coat in a deep cherry red. Arnora grabbed a long sweater tunic and matched it with a grey knitted scarf, and the two walked out of Rosemont house and down towards the market.

The first place on Czarine's list was the Blue Box. Maintaining medical care for her family was of utmost importance, and finding out who was available and what they could do was a priority for the day. Arnora led the way, pulling ahead to open the apothecary's door and allow Czarine to walk in first. She was nearly immediately greeted by a young woman. Czarine took a moment to look around before answering, surprised at the size of the shop given the small dimensions of the store front.

"I'm looking for something to help me sleep more peacefully, if you have something that can help. I'm also interested in an elixir that dulls the pain in the event of an injury. Might you have something that can help?"

Czarine was curious to see the girl's response, see if she knew her inventory. "I'm also in need of a physician. I understand the owner of this storefront is one? Is he any good at healing?"

@Aigronding Mordagnir for Rose Field

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Points:
@Tharmáras for Coralbell & Clementine

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“Thank you, Frederick,” she said, as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Coralbell & Clementine, the bookshop. “Pick me up when the sun has begun to set over the Hill, today I am free of rehearsals in the Sparrow and I intend to shop the entire day away.”

“Yes, m’lady,” responded Frederick, helping her down to the pavement. He was an old man, but without grown sons or daughters to care for him in the twilight years of his life, it fell on the driver-for-hire to continue to provide for his wife and himself. Fortunately, he had been able to find a much easier venue in recent years, working for Ms. Athena, leading actress of the local stage.

Under her personal employment, he would only work twice a day for a matter of minutes, picking her up and dropping her off to work or the Market. She was also very generous in her pay, and he earned far more under her in a year’s time than he ever had delivering crates and barrels for the merchants of Bree.

“Until later,” she said, waving farewell to him as the carriage moved onward.

It was only after Frederick had left, that Athena realized an all-too-familiar face stood in front of the entrance of the three-tiered establishment. “What in Bree-hill are you doing here?” she asked him, quite displeased at the very sight of him.

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“My dearest Athena,” replied Bill Ferny, the infamous scoundrel, “did you get the flowers I sent you after your last performance?”

“Yes, I did,” said Athena, frowning, “and when I discovered who they were from, I threw them out.”

“What a waste,” he laughed, smiling with yellow teeth, “shall I come by your condominium tonight?”

Ew. Athena lifted her cat Snowbell closer to her chest. “Bill Ferny,” she began, now very cross with him, “that suggestion, is as unwelcome as it is grotesque; and when was the last time you bathed?”

She pushed passed him, pinching her nose, and entered the store. He, of course, continued to watch her with dirty hands cupped around his eyes from the shop window.

Athena stepped slowly into Coralbell & Clementine, throwing back her lilac hood. She watched Annabelle, an employee, shelving books nearby atop a small ladder. “Greetings,” she sang, approaching with her cat in her arms. “I just wanted to thank you for the lovely recommendation last week, that crime novel had me in quite a bit of suspense.”

She walked over to a cart with a number of unassorted books. “Is there anything else that you think I should read? A romance perhaps? Some philosophy?” Athena asked, picking up the various titles to give them a look. “Anything,” she added, “to get my mind off of the disgusting suggestions of that slime, Bill Ferny.”

Athena wrinkled her nose at the mention of his name.

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OOC: Segments for Annunfalas, Cor, and Moriel coming soon!
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Fuin avoided his glance at first but he chuckled. He knew she was grinning. "Just who's side are you on?" Aigronding demanded through a burst of laughter, having watch with mouth agape as Fuin encouraged Vincent's uncle, Wes Marble, to jack up his own apple prices. "We've been friends for thousands of years. You've known this guf a minute and suddenly it's abandon ship."

"The Fuindagnir ship has sailed, alas," lamented Aewrusca and faked hysterically loud sobbing.

Aigronding grimaced, detesting the grating silliness of Mordingdong and gave her a gimlet stare she was probably hoping for. "Perhaps I would find better use for you in the kitchen of Merenthrond, Aphador," mused Aigronding, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, with thick emphasis on the lowest rank of the Halcyon Guard, the host of Imladris.

"Not even a day, Ada," assumed Aewrusca. "She'd poison your breakfast. Tavari would be Tar-Taidril then Fuin proclaim herself Arahiril."

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"You're officially banned from the feast hall," Aigronding declared, folding his muscled arms.

"Assault me and I'll call the police," the Elf-lord warned the cackling elderly man who was trying to rap the backs of Mordagnir's legs with his cane, egged on by the devious Dark Elf. Grinning smugly, he waved hello at Ann and Elizabeth Snapdragon who were riding by in their wagon.

"Do ya mind if I beat up yer friend, sheila?" yelled the rascally senior. His late sister's son, Vincent, and his wife were Hill Watchers of the Bree-land. They patrolled Bree-land and served as Gatekeepers occasionally. He snickered when Ann shifted fingers from her big blue eyes toward her playful in-law, smirking, as she drove past.

"To another thousand years of annoying each other," Aigronding toasted dryly, his brilliant eyes glowing brighter, tapping a glass bottle of cider against her own. He drank deeply of the pleasurably tart beverage, ruminating on his stall's open hours. "Perhaps until Mid-day. I don't want to sell after sundown. We can expect thievery is rampant in the night."

"How come everyone thinks I'm a distressing damsel who needs saving all the time?" Aewrusca whined and pouted when Fuin said she would be her lookout. "I've been training, you know," Aewrusca reminded her, sauntering over. She removed a dagger from a leather sheath embossed in golden vine relief which matched the engraving of the blade she pulled from the decorative case. "I assure you I'm a cautious girl and that I'm full of surprises," Aewrusca promised Fuin, thrusting the dagger viciously to impale an imaginary Goblin.

"Ah, here is Tharmaras with the children," said Aigronding


*

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"You have powdered sugar on your dress Vilvirenneth ("Little Butterfly," Sindarin)." Tharmaras beckoned Caramírië; he needed to clean the remains of her first cookie from her clothes. The energetic Forlond Princess had escaped his hand despite his stern command, bolting away like an arrow shot from a longbow. Cara had been obedient during the walk from the Sweet Spot but that instantly changed when she saw Fuin and her kinsman, Aigronding, near the Tingdain stall. The rambunctious Elf-girl tore her small hand loose from her father's larger one and shot off like one of Gandalf's brilliant rockets. It was only her father's mention of her sullied dress which halted Cara's mad dash to Fuin. She was a lovely child with alabaster skin and vibrant blue eyes and rich auburn hair. Cara emulated her mother, Nariel. She was a flawess dancer, a merry singer, she lived for parties, was obsessed with fine clothes, loved jewelry, was fond of Airien's cosmetics, and was besotted with the idea that she was the cutest Elf-girl in Middle-earth.

"Is my dress ruined, Dad'dy?" Cara whined in Westron (which she learned over time to master with great interest), throwing her willowy arms around her father's leg. Sudden tears glistened in her eyes which pulled Tharmaras' heartstrings. She was the apple of his eye. He adored her; when she wept even for the most frivolous of reasons, something broke inside inside him.

"You're fine, doll," Tharmaras assured her, carefully dusting her scalloped burgundy lace dress with a handkerchief from his cloak pocket. It had a fringe hem and a belt of gold, featuring a buckle of two opposing Phoenixes touching beak to beak, was girt about her slender waist. When he was finished, she kissed her father then skipped away before he could snatch her up. "Fuin has jewelry / And all for me / tra-la-la-lally!" Cara sang, hopping like a little piping crimson bird. She giggled when Tharmaras ran after her, putting on an fiercer burst of speed through the busy city streets. Ignoring the strident cries of her father, Anarondo her twin, Girithniel her nanny, and Mauya the bodyguard Cara zipped down the cobble road. She was somewhere new and she wanted to play.

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The capering Princess of Forlond hummed a dainty pastoral tune of Maglor in her reckless charge to Fuin. Nimble leaps, graceful twirls, and lucky dodges carried the fleet slippered feet of the Elf-girl beyond stalls and passersby of all descriptions, wagons of Man and carts of Hobbits, horses of Elves and ponies of Dwarves. Cara snatched a berried Fall crown festooned with leaves of yellow, orange, and red from the stall of Bella's Blooms in mid-stride before reaching Fuin. She smiled at the master smith with all her immaculate teeth, placing the rustic circlet over her garnet head.

Cara hugged Fuin with ebullient immediacy just as Tharmaras arrived, out of breath with his handkerchief. The seven-year-old got Fuin's grey leggings sticky because Tharmaras wasn't able to cleanse her hands covered lightly with the sticky green frosting of her second cookie. "I'm sorry, I got excited," Cara admitted in a teeny guilty voice, looking up at Fuin with her big blue eyes as Tharmaras, blushing, wiped his daughter's palms and fingers. "Will you still give me pretty things?" She asked a beat later in a more cheerful voice.

"She will slice your hands off with one of these swords!" Prince Anarondo declared, arriving with Girithniel and Mauya. The Elf-boy, wearing breeches and shirt of black silk with a purple brocade jerkin, gave his twin sister an impish smirk. She pouted for a moment before begging the smith not to cut her hands off because she needed them to paint and gather seashells. "Be nice," Tharmaras warned his son but tousled his unruly flaxen hair. "We would like to buy some jewelry -" Tharmaras told Fuin but he was interrputed by Cara who asked for a hundred necklaces.

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"What makes you think you can have a hundred necklaces?" drawled Rondo, rolling his cornflower blue eyes.

His sister threw her head back, striking an imperious pose. "I am Caramírië," she answered loftily, standing akimbo.

"You're a spoiled brat," Rondo replied but flinched a moment later when Cara, who didn't know that particular word of Bree vocabulary, shot back, "YOU'RE A SPOILED BARF!" with acerbic vehemence, awfully mispronouncing the insult.

"Enough, children!" ordered Tharmaras with a stony demeanor, glancing at Mauya in disapproval when she burst out laughing. Tharmaras forced a sigh, noticing Cara's unhappy countenance. He knelt, caressing her gleaming curls. "Fuin doesn't have a hundred necklaces and even if she did, you couldn't have them all because it would be selfish, honey, and too expensive."

"How many then, Dad-dy?" Cara wondered in a little saccharine voice, holding herself, as she started another habitual haggling episode with her father.

"You can have four."

"Eight sounds splendid, Dad-dy!" she happily cried and bussed his cheek with a quick joyful kiss.

Tharmaras gazed at Cara with visible confusion, blinking. "Baby, Dad-dy didn't say eight," he spoke over Mauya's throaty laughter and above Rondo's deep groaning (and the rather audible smack of his palm meeting his own forehead). "He said four."

"Eight is a little bit more," Cara reasoned, "but not too much. It's like this." She held her forefinger and thumb slightly apart, uttering, "See?" for emphasis.

"Six," said Tharmaras clearly and copied the movement of his child's fingers, restraining a blast of laughter of his own. "It's a little bit more but not too much. It's like this, see?" he echoed. She squeed, bouncing up and down in place, clapping her hands together. "Alright, Fuin," said Tharmaras, coming to his feet. "Show me your necklaces, if you please? Oh...and if you want some new leggings...I got you as they say in Bree." He gestured at the Marigold General Store.

"Get her a dress instead," Aigronding dared him. "Fuin would look enchanting in a black cotehardie." He wasn't even joking. "What a captivating vision, no? Can you see it, lissiore ("Sweetheart," Quenya)?" Aigronding joined both thumbs together with forefingers up, creating an invisible portrait with his hands surrounding the image of Fuin.

"Ooo, yes, with silver star embroidery," Aewrusca chimed in with a devilish grin. "Down her sleeves," she added, her periwinkle eyes stinging as she mastered the laughter she wanted to belt out. "And across the low neckline," she continued giddily, hiccuping once as the urge to laugh became too burdensome, tracing the length of her own collar grandly... Let's talk earrings."

"Chandelier-"

Rondo covered his pointed ears and wished he was hiking with Erfaron in the Midgewater Marshes. He'd rather get bit by a bunch of noisy insects in a noxious swamp with his foul-mouthed mother's friend.
Last edited by Eriol on Wed Dec 16, 2020 8:36 am, edited 3 times in total.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

High Lord of Imladris
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Fuin chuckled and muttered under her breath "I don't have to put up with him for another 6000 years." Aewrusca sold everything else that needed to be sold.

She snorted when he called her an aphador putting a hand on her hip her head tilting to the side slightly as she looked at him much like a raptor looks at a rabbit its about to devour as he continued to suggest that he'd put her in the kitchens. While she was decent in the kitchen and he knew that well enough the grin that spread on her face as Aewrusca suggested she'd poison him and her and Tavari would take over the. She couldn't help but quip back knowing full well she had saved his life more than once.

"Do you know how much night shade I can put in your wine?" She asked Aigronding directly swirling the cider drink in her hand that smirk still on her face her eyes slightly lidded as she looked as if she was completely at ease with the idea. Awerusca looked confused entirely.

"But deadly nightshade is very sweet, he'd taste it." The young elleth was confused at why Fuin who was a Master Healer and instructor and her father had told her she was well skilled in poisons and should know that. Fuin tipped her head forward slightly and gave Aewrusca a pat on the shoulder.

"You'll get it eventually" Fuin said with a chuckle and raised an eyebrow at the fact that they would done by mid day. "That's not too long, are you heading back to the Valley tonight or are you worried about highway men?" She asked continuing to sip on the cider. It was something she wasn't terribly worried about but she was very very use to fighting when she was on her own and so many of the highway men had learned that she had no trouble cutting them down like grass before a scythe so the tended to leave her be when she travelled unless they were in enough numbers to be dangerous though they were almost always easy to know when they would give themselves away if they were in enough numbers to cause her harm.

Fuin finished sipping at the cider as Aewrusca said she had been training and the older elleth looked at Aigronding wondering if he'd correct her, he didn't and she reached out and corrected how she was holding the dagger, twisting it slightly, until the wide part of the blade was horizontal to the ground and her wrist was straightened properly.

"Hit them the way you stabbed that air and you'll glance of their ribs at beast, break your wrist at worst. Remember horizontal blade for people, vertical for animals. And people tend to fight back more than animals that you're putting out of their misery." She gave the cup back to Aigronding and smiled

"That was a fantastic cider." She was about to compliment his brewing more when he mentioned that Tharmaras and his children were on their way, and her eyes went wide slightly and she glanced at her cart, she had another pair of leggings and another tunic though not quite as nice as this one. For there was only one thing that warning meant to her: Brace for Cara and her eternally sticky hands.

She stood still, glancing towards the sing song voice of Cara that was drawing ever nearer, like a singing dragon. Fuin did her best to not show her distaste to the child after all it was not her fault, she didn't do anything on purpose to grate upon the older elleth and she knew that it would break Cara's heart if Fuin recoiled from her. She took a deep breath and turned towards Cara, knowing full well if she did not the tiny tot would take her knees out from behind. She was better than some of the Black Swans at taking her down because she hadn't expected the attack to her knees the first time she was not normally someone let their children go to. She gave Cara a smile as she set the flower crown upon her head as she stopped for a moment and she saw Tharmaras sprinting to try to get to her first but alas no, the small nimble child had left him and her minders too far behind and she was upon Fuins legs a moment later and Fuin did her best to keep a smile upon her face as Cara squeezed her legs and she could feel the sticky icing on the back of her legs, and only then did Caras father arrived and wiped her hands after extricating her from Fuins left leg.

"I am afraid you're a touch late to wipe her hands." Fuin said with a chuckle doing her best to not run and change immediately. She blinked at Cara's brazen ask and crouched down and got on her level her eyes narrowing slight. "Give you my dear?" She asked "You mean let your Adda buy them for you?" That got a nod even as Anarondo made his comment and Fuin turned her to look at him her face giving away nothing set in a slight smile. He clearly knee Fuins reputation well thus far with that comment only to hear Cara beg her not to cut her hands off.

"Ohhh no sweet, I'll not cut off your hands, you can't help me pick herbs if I do that now can I? " She said with a little chuckle and she stood up as Tharmaras mentioned buying jewelry only to be interrupted by Cara demanding a hundred necklaces and she couldn't help but laugh at the exchange between the two children.

"Right necklaces." She pulled out a trinket box that she had brought and opened it up and inside was about twenty fine chains with small pendants on them, some in the shapes of stars, others leaves and flowers and animals, these were not high end jewelery but meant for children some had gem dust on them, others were simple polished silver designs, others were enameled with bright colours but all of them were at most a silver, many at a few coppers a piece that were meant for those that did not have a lot of money to spend or for those that had precocious children like Cara. "There should be a good few in here that she does not already have. And no worries about the leggings I have one pair of nice clean ones left." She said and glared at Aigronding and picked up the first 'dagger' she saw on her table and pointed at him as he suggested putting her in a dress.

"I'll cut you." She said and looked at the dagger in her hand, it was a blunted toy one/ "With this. It'll hurt more." She said with a smile "I don't need you're help picking herbs. Maybe your left pinky." She said as he held his hands up framing her. With that she set it down near where Rondo was standing his fingers in his ears. "And You you traitor I'll not be wearing earrings or a dress any time soon!" She muttered to Aewrusca as clearly the two Mordagnirs clearly were ganging up on her now.

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OOC@ Posts for Cor and Moriel coming late tonight. Yours will come soon, Fuin, I need to hit some places for you and some others first.
Yes, alterationsto Ann's character profile are forthcoming.

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Annabelle Snapdragon again forced a smile at gawking co-workers and gossiping customers. She walked downstairs from the office of Karen Coralbell Ravenwood and Clarice Clementine. She didn't answer any questions of what occurred behind those carved walnut doors. She preferred the travel of rumors or maybe a teeny damaging article in Philomena's tabloid paper, guessing what was going on at the bookstore, to shake those old women up a bit.

She made a beeline toward the fiction department which she managed. Ann found a deserted corner and leaned against one soaring bookcase. She took deep calming breaths until her tremors of anger ceased. She outstretched her hand to take the awaiting ceramic tankard of hot buttered rum her best friend, Miranda Lynn Clementine, sneaked to her. "I'm working, babe," Ann reminded the woman in the white silk chemise and yellow damask bodice.

"Oh, hush," said freewheeling Miranda, swatting her by-the-book chum. "Down it, girly," pressured Miranda. "I don't know what that battleaxe did, Anna, but you need a bracer."

"You are still a terrible influence, always trying to corrupt me," murmured Ann, risking a wary look over her shoulder before she took a sip. This variation of the celebrated beverage was only a smidge alcoholic, hardly enough Redhill Rum to get her tipsy. The pleasurable warm blend of brown sugar and butter, honey and cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, eased her troubled mind as did the soothing feel of Miranda's scarlet nails gently scratching her back. The slim blonde with the side-swept bangs and emerald eyes had grown up with Ann since both their parents - Kathryn Ravenwood and Erin Clementine - had been close as sisters from childhood's hour. Miranda's maiden name was Clementine and she used it for publishing purposes but her married name was Peppermint.

"What happened, Anna?" Miranda was blunt and to the point. She was never one to beat around the bush as they said in Bree. If she wanted to know something, she was direct and doggedly intrusive.

"Karen isn't giving Elizabeth or Eru knows what other kid they suckered into overtime pay," Ann responded bitterly. Her swordhand started to flex, wishing she was holding the pommel of Melimakris. She felt the Raven taken wing again and had to take her calming breaths, sealing dark thoughts behind mental bars.

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"Dang, you let her live?" Miranda objected in a fierce whisper of dismay jokingly. "Suprised you aren't covered in blood, Mama Bear!"

"I threatened her." Ann showed Miranda her copper Hill Watch star. It was pinned to the lining of her grey coat near a blued steel dagger. "Your grandmother showed me the paperwork. Karen and Elizabeth signed an agreement that she would work paid hours until winter. I suppose Karen did it as a formality but expected Elizabeth wouldn't speak up for herself as she kept getting disrespected. You know how timid she is, the suffering in silence type. They haven't given her the double earnings which they agreed to. She's missing them from two pay periods...a month. If Elizabeth doesn't have her money by week's end, I will see Karen...and Whitney... in court for violating the Child Labor Laws I made which Sheriff Brackenbrook and the Bree Elders approved."

"No hard feelings, hon," Miranda assured Ann. "My grandma is your grandma's accomplice. She's got to stand up to her at some point. Erin is Salgant to Karen's Maeglin. A skinny pawn though. I'll admit she's a twig. Whenever the wind blows, I think she'll get blown off her feet." A group of readers began to assemble near Miranda's Belfalas books display in one of the conference parlors. "Must greet my fans. I'll see you on your break, Anna. Chin up, beautiful!" Miranda blew her a kiss and sashayed toward her legion of applauding bookworms.

Ann downed her buttered rum and set the empty cup aside on a long mahoghany table. She investigated the twelve carts of fiction books the backroom lads sorted off the Gondorian wagon which was emptied in the predawn hours. It was increasingly frustrating that Karen and Whitney kept ordering more books from Gondor - and local village authors - they didn't need. It was a busy season because people enjoyed being shut up in their house reading in the winter to come, and collecting said books before the chilly weather set in, but no one read this much in Bree. Ann and other department managers in the bookstore were literally running out of space to shelve novels and merchandise like maps, writing utensils, bookmarks, calendars.... Karen was hellbent on contracting masons to add more unnecessary stories to the building. It was insane.

"You're kidding me. Nope. This is not happening to me today."

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Colleen Peppermint, Miranda's teenage daughter and Elizabeth's best friend, stood in the entryway of the department. The blonde girl in a black and red pinafore slumped against the doorframe. The melodramatic threatre actress heaved a sigh so loud they could have heard it in the Kingdom of Dale. Colleen touched her one of her double beribboned ponytails anxiously and muttered that she would have to drag Dessy here to work so she wouldn't be alone during a shift. Only the surprise appearance of Meoi, Ann's Chetwood Forest Cat, could mollify the angsty Bree-girl. The white-and-bronze shorthair brushed past Ann's ankle. He sprang into Colleen's arms, sensing her disappointment, and purred when she rubbed the rosettes between his ears.

"Let me guess, we have another string of no-shows eho don't want to work with my grandma on deck this morning?"

"Which leaves me the only associate working here right now," came Colleen's glum reply. She perked up when Ann hugged her, promising she would help. Ann was one of those nice managers who was in the trenches with her troops.

Minutes later, Ann nearly fell off the rung of one ladder she was using when she heard the angelic voice of Athena. Meanwhile, Colleen gasped in astonishment. She dropped an armload of absurd Old Forest stories from the Shire about queer anthropomorphic badger-folk when she saw the famous actress. Athena was delighted that Ann recommended her a great crime novel jsut the other week. "I have been praised for my wonderful suggestions!" Ann, scuttling down the ladder, affirmed in a high reedy voice. She winced, hearing how goofy she sounded, and cleared her throat to repeat herself in her normal dulcet tone. "You know I'm not sure if you read Miranda's acknowlegements -" Of course she did, you numbskull, Ann thought to herself, cringing inwardly "- but The Bellflower Casebook was based on adventures of yours truly...." Ann showed off her badge for the third time this morning. "I'm a constable. An inspector now. It's my side hustle."

Out of her peripheral vision she saw Colleen, recovering from her shock, jerked her head back with an amused expression like 'Seriously, Ann?' .

"Miranda is my recorder," Ann explained, approaching Athena, feeling gradually more comfortable and bubbly as they spoke again. "She follows my husband and I when we have a case," gushed Ann with animated movements as the words tumbled out, "and writes down whatever we encounter in a yellow journal...like the one Amanda Bellflower uses to describe her thrilling missions in the casebook." Ann winked at Athena. "I wonder which quest held you spellbound the most...perhaps the Riddle of the Apeman." That short story in Volume One concerned Amanda's investigation of grisly woodcutter murders in the Chetwood. Villagers thought a huge Ape-like monster had torn them apart and devoured their flesh but really it was a large hairy cannibal who pursued his quarry in the skin of a bear. Freaky.

Athena sauntered to the cart Colleen loaded. She was still too overwhelmed by her nearness to her idol to say anything just yet though but felt a soaring elation that Athena was touching books Colleen had. "Romance? Varda's stars, we got countless romance novels!" Ann joined Athena by Colleen's cart before the teen could help. "Personally I love historical romances," Ann divulged, girlishly wrapping a wisp of her brown hair around a finger. "You should try the Realms in Exile." Ann plucked a thick collection in leather with gilt pages from the cart and set it on the table, accompanied by an illustrated version. "The epic series feature historical figures like Elendil and Earendur as characters but are largely told from the viewpoints of Dunedain created by the three authors of the series - Miranda and a couple, Scott and Allison Primrose. I believe you are friends with them, playwrights of the Sparrow Theater? These books have a legendary reputation for compelling chapters of love and war and vivid scenery descriptions."

Ann randomly opened the illustrated copy. She tapped a lavish rendering of Elendil facing a terrifying depiction of Sauron in Mordor. She slid her thumb over a portrait of three bearded irate brothers dressed in kingly attire on another page. "My favorite part so far is The Shattered Realm. It begins with the dissention of Earendur's children, spanning the civil wars years between Cardolan and Arethedain and Rhudaur then ending with the Angmar struggle and the fall of the North Kingdom. There's plenty of heartbreak between the divided fictional families the authors introduced so prepare youself for a good cry! Also, plenty of riveting creepy chapters about Rhudauran sorcerers and bloodthirsty Hill-men." Ann blurted laughter, admitting she read too much.

"Um, my turn," Colleen spoke to Athena, finally discovering her courage. "Bree geography is pretty simple. We know where Lindon and Gondor are and where Rivendell might be though few of us have ever gone there, I guess. My mom listens to wanderers who've been to places beyond Dale and the Lonely Mountain. She writes these exotic Eastern books about the natives of some countries called Rhun, Khand, and Harad. Our Edain ancestors once travelled through those regions in the First Age so they could reach Beleriand, escaping the Men of Darkness my Mom says." She flourished her hand over a dozen novels of garish painted hardcovers. Some exhibited desert scenes, colorful junngles, and dark-skinned warriors in desperate clashes with the Dark Men. "My mom's lurid tales of the East in this saga, Where the Stars Are Strange, are mostly made up but some are based on true events. Mom spoke with Strider to depict her sensational stories accurately. She spoke to Dwarven refugees, too, who are still fleeing to the Blue Mountains of Lindon." Colleen showed Athena an oil painting of the Blue Wizards of Gandalf's Istari Order holding staves and swords, riding gleaming horses against the fearsome mercenaries of Khand. "Strider told my mom he's heard differing stories about these Wizards, Alatar and Pallando. Some are good, some are bad but Strider thinks they're uniting good Easterlings out there, gathering tribes to protect themselves and us from the tyranny of evil folks."

Colleen and Ann laid every volume of Where the Stars Are Strange on the table then Miranda's daughter took a slimmer book out of the cart. It was a locked red hardback with deckled pages. An iron key was attached to a hemp cord on it. Colleen unlocked it and showed Athena the title page. There was a colored drawing of hooded Longbeard Dwarves clad in flowing bluish-grey robes. They were pictured standing on a fir slope of Ered Luin. "This is a philosophy book, Athena," said Colleen. "It was translated for us by Dwarven Sages of Forlindon. It is a book of proverbs."

"I hope we haven't bored you!" said Ann, tenatively wrapping an arm amicably around her. "Hey, I hope this doesnt' come off weird but...er, can I pet Snowbell? Word on the street is that your kitty is mean but I happen to be a cat whisperer, so - oh, look, here's my boy, Meoi!"

Meoi had fled this corner of the fiction department when he smelled Snowbell but now the glorious tomcat had returned. He stared at Snowbell with a malevolent intensity.

"Uh...don't worry, he's the nicest cat," lied Ann not so smoothly with a dismissive casual wave of her hand. "He always puts on this grumpy front for attention," Ann stuttered.

Meoi made a deep frightening sound, growling like a demon of Angband as he crept toward Snowbell although the longhaired white cat was still cuddled in Athena's arms.

"Hey, you mentioned Bill Ferny," Ann remarked, quickly changing the subject. She grimaced as well. "He is a creep. Has he been stalking you, Athena?" Ann frowned, watching Bill leering at Athena through a window. "I have to help Colleen here but my man, Vincent Snapdragon, could talk to him...make the slimy jerk an offer he can't refuse..."

Last edited by Eriol on Wed Dec 16, 2020 8:18 am, edited 4 times in total.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

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The Blue Box for @corlisswyn .

OOC to all: Next posts will be for Moriel and Fuin!
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Rose Field finished preparing the small hospital of Bree-hill. The square building was painted blue and seemed wider within. It had been established generations ago owned by a myriad of Doctors from all kinds of respectable Bree families. When the last one retired and a travelling healer took his place, settling down. Its current physican was David Bugloss. He was an "out-of-towner", a stranger up from the Greenway. He came from an unknown hamlet in one of the vast woody stretches of Minhiriath, once territory of ancient Cardolan. David came to Bree nameless - he didn't share his identity, wanting to "start over" - but adopted a name suitable of the community to "fit in." The handsome young Doctor was a decade her senior, a man in his late thirties. He was a odd secretive fellow who didn't speak of his past. Rose believed something traumatic happened to him south and that he was fleeing whatever problem haunted him.

He was friendly and joyful man but quick to sorrow. He suffered quiet periods of silence with a wistful coutenance as if he was remembering something beautiful he had lost. He was of slender of build with immaculate unruly hair, long sideburns, and soft brown eyes. David seemed to be a Wizard's best friend. Rose often saw him with Istari including, Galen the Green and Piros the Red. Rose observed him speaking with Elf-lords like Aigronding (who, she heard, was a member of some kind of special fellowship called The White Council) or his relations - gardener daughter Eilianthel or Airien Mereniel, his niece-in-law skilled in aromatherapy; the Mordagnirs sold him medicinal herbs from Imladris or Lórien which couldn't be found locally. David was a person of some importance, that was certain.

She took a hand mirror framed in solid maple, engraved with rose motifs in high relief, from the pocket of her white dress. She brushed her hair, admiring the beautiful reflection of golden curls and full lips and dark blue eyes. Rose always wanted to look pretty for the Doctor. She knew her romantic feelings were mutually requited but he had gently refused her advances, claiming a relationship would be inappopriate. Rose thought it balderdash. There were plenty of couples in the Bree-land who worked alongside their husbands as partners in trade. Rose wouldn't stop encouraging him to change his mind. Stubborn man. "I'm going to be a spinster like Ally Bay at this rate," came her sullen thought, pouting. Her friend, a progressive woman like Annabelle Snapdragon, was single but by choice. "I'm just hooked on a gent who doesn't want me and I'm too doggone tenacious to find another bloke around." Again she heard Ally's voice rebuking her. "Must you find happinness in a person? You can live a life that's full without a man." Rose wished she could be as strong as Ally. Rose had been raised on courtly tales of dashing Cardolan lords whisking beautiful damsels off their slippered feet. "Do you see any chivalrous knights around? No. You need to grow up, my lass." Rose sighed, forcing Ally's lecturing voice out of her mind.

Suddenly, in walked the first customer of the day. Alerted by the tuneful bell which jingled when the door was opened, Rose turned about. An older woman in a sweater and fitted coat of dark cherry red stood at the threshold, wearing a grey knitted scarf wrapped around her throat. She was immediately awed by the airy interior of the shop where herbal remedies and medicinal elixers, salves and medical supplies like needle & thread for stitching wounds at home were stored for sale. There was a garden in the courtyard where vital ingredients like ginger, goldenseal, catnip, chamomile, fennel, mint, garlic, lavender, and sweet basil were grown. Bugloss did not use components like urine, earwax, human fat, saliva; he was adamantly opposed to using articles which he professionally considered ineffective or unsanitary to treat the villagers of Bree.

"Hello, welcome to the Blue Box!" Rose greeted her merrily with a broad sunny smile, gracefully drawing closer. She had never seen her before but was eager to help the woman. "It always looks bigger on the inside, everyone says so!" she affirmed, giggling. Rose asked for her name and what business she had at the Apothecary. The woman, Czarine, needed something to help her sleep restfully and was interested in an elixir that deadens pain from injury. She was also in need of a physician and asked if Bugloss was of service.

"Oh, we have many treatments for insomnia, ma'am!" Rose assured her, tapping the woman's shoulder. "One of the finest herbal solutions for folks in these parts in valerian." Rose guided her to a molded glass jar of the dried root. She flourished her hand toward the container filled with the yellowish-green powder. "Valerian has been used since the time of ancient Beleriand when our ancestors lived at Estolad, the old folks say," Rose explained. "There have been accounts Oliver Rowan has found of Edain who put valerian in the wedding raiment of the groom to ward off the jealousy of Elves interested in the bride. I'm sorry, I might know too much!" Rose laughed about the random superstitious remark before continuing her valerian discourse. "The plant is native to Eriador and Gondor and parts of Rhun. Food and drinks are flavored with valerian oil. Its delicately aromatic flowers have been used by Airien Mereniel, an Elf-lady of Rivendell, to make perfume. It is the root which is valuable to healers. It can be used orally for anxiety, as a sedative, and - of course - as a sleep aid." Rose handed Czarine the jar.

"If you're interested, soak two to three grammes of valerian root powder in 1 cup of water for an evening tea then you should have a heavenly rest! Side effects - headaches, stomach pain, and dizziness in some cases - are very much uncommon so you should be right as rain as we say in Bree. Come see us again if the situation doesn't approve and we'll fix you with something better for sure! Dried valerian root is worth one silver coin in this shop." Rose studied her closely again for a few seconds, surprised the woman didn't elaborate about the injurious condition, before speaking again. "We do have pain relief medicine, yes, but I should know what kind of discomfort you mean to ward off because that will narrow down the list of suitable choices, perhaps even lower the cost you need to spend." Rose brightened considerably as she spoke of David. "Doctor Bugloss is a phenomenal surgeon, Czarine! He is willing to perform any examinations or medical procedures here in the Blue Box. He's also adept at dentistry-"

Suddenly the double doors were flung over just as a trumpet fanfare of Bree-town musicians heralded the morning with a thrilling blast of golden horns. In stepped David Bugloss, grinning broadly, dressed in a brown frock suit. "Hello, I am the Doctor!" he announced gaily, doffing his tweed flat cap and winked at Rose who seemed ready to swoon any moment. "Who wants some drugs?" David asked, running a palm over his Really Good Hair.

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"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

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“If only my life was as filled with thrilling adventure and fateful romance!” declared Athena, admiring the constable badge pinned on the gray coat of Annabelle Snapdragon. She reached out the fingers of her right hand toward it but paused midway and retracted her touch. “But alas,” she continued, her initial smile faltering, “I am only a stage performer; the only derring-do I shall ever see is what is given to me by the playwrights of Bree, and the only places I shall ever go is wherever The Sparrow props around me attempt to imitate.”

Athena sighed wistfully, desiring at that moment to trade places with Annabelle. For as much as the flaxen-haired belle of Rohan loved her occupation, she had never wanted to live solely within its domestic boundaries. Her mother Hestia had never allowed her to learn how to fight, and her father Ares had been unwilling to instruct his only daughter in the martial arts. Young Athena often turned away from her cooking and needlework at home, just to catch a glimpse of her joyful brothers Aether and Odin outside, clacking wooden swords and swinging buckler shields; longing ever to join them.

“But one must make do with one has I suppose,” she concluded, thinking aloud. Athena then cleared her throat gracefully and turned her mind to more cheerful matters.

She listened attentively to Annabelle and Colleen, enthralled by the volumes they proffered to her. When asked if they had bored her, Athena laughed softly. “Not at all!” she said assuringly, “You ladies have always been so kind to me and I do appreciate you taking the time to go over each book with me.” Athena then reached into her purse and pulled out three glittering objects.


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“This is for you,” said Athena, handing Annabelle an ornate rose-gold compact mirror, dotted with little sparkling crystals. She opened it to reveal the circle of pressed coral rouge inside. “I use the peach shade myself,” she whispered, leaning close and winking playfully at Annabelle. She turned to Miranda and offered her an attractive porcelain hairbrush encased in shining brass, painted with vibrant leaf and stem violets. “And for you,” said Athena, opening her right hand to Colleen Peppermint to exhibit a golden brooch shaped in the likeness of a honey bee with jet eyes and stripes.

“Please accept these favors, it is the least I can do for three marvelous, beautiful women such as yourselves,” insisted Athena contently, turning to the books that had been displayed for her consideration, “and as for your recommendations, I will take them all!”

Athena wrapped her arms merrily around an uneven stack of fiction as Annabelle asked politely to pet her darling Snowbell. “Of course you can dear, Snowbell loves you,” proclaimed the actress, shouldering the long-haired cat toward the Hill-Watch inspector. Snowbell hissed and bared her barb-like fangs. “Don’t worry, my sweety Snowbell is the same way,” she added when the tomcat residing in the bookstore approached. Athena dropped slowly toward the ground, allowing Snowbell to jump off of her. Snowbell then turned sharply to Meoi, standing outstretched on the cushioned pads of her soft feet. Her pupils dilated and the hairs of her long, white coat stood upright. Snowbell then arched her back and creased her face into a milk-curdling expression. She yowled resonantly at Meoi and spat at him in the animal tongue -

“You… will… die…”

Snowbell encircled her nemesis, sharp bony nails shooting from her paws. She rubbed her body against the legs of the nearby furniture, marking them with her scent and declaring them her property. With a sudden hiss, Snowbell propelled herself forward, claws swatting in a violent flurry, prepared to deliver a world of pain onto Meoi.

“They are absolutely in love!” gushed Athena, tilting her head to one side. “Does this make us in-laws?” she chuckled, affectionately suggesting to Annabelle that they make their pets a mated pair.


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Pervy Ferny, still stalking the ditz of Horseland I see,” remarked Philomena Brooks, the editor-in-chief of the infamous Hill Journal tabloid, as she approached Bill Ferny still spying on Athena from the window of the establishment.

“You said she loved me, Brooks,” he said temperamentally and frowning moodily, “but Athena doesn’t want me!

Philomena pouted, feigning sorrow. “Aww Bill, of course she does! She told me herself. Honest. Athena is just shy that’s all.”

“...Really?” muttered Bill, looking curiously back at Athena inside.

“She lusts for you Ferny. Athena wants you as her man,” continued Philomena, still vengeful that the actress had refused her exclusive front row seats to a Sparrow production over a year ago. “Don’t you give up on love now, you hear.”

“Never,” grinned Ferny, pressing his face against the glass once again.

“Ah,” he said a moment later, “it looks like Vincent’s broad and her girlfriends are in there too.”

“Is that so?” purred Philomena, blue-gray eyes glinting with malice.

She dusted off the sleeves of her white, ruffled blouse. “Stand back lover boy, and watch a master at work,” said Philomena, swinging the door of Coralbell & Clementine open forcefully, and marching in.


“Trying to fill that empty head of yours with something useful, Athena?” commented Philomena, making her presence known.

“Philomena Brooks,” returned Athena sternly, “If I could go a hundred years without seeing you it would not be long enough.”

“Ouch. Careful who you insult Athena, or you might end up on the front page of the next Journal publication,” replied Philomena with wicked delight.

“Yeah, careful!” reiterated another from behind the editor-in-chief.

“Of course, you would have your Weasel with you,” said Athena, eyeing the Hobbit.

“It’s Westley,” hissed the tween, “Westley Appledore.

He pointed angrily to his ginger curls, a silent indication that the unique shade of his Halfling tresses should be a reminder of his name.

“Well, you certainly act like one,” said Athena, wagging a finger at him.

“You will have to forgive Athena, Westley,” said Philomena to her Hill Journal illustrator, “the brains of these bumpkins out in the Westfold are clouded with too much manure they’ve breathed in.”

She turned to the actress again. “But don’t worry, if Miranda and Colleen can learn to complete a sentence, I am certain you can too.”

Athena’s cheeks reddened.

Philomena shot a challenging gaze at Annabelle. “Care to defend Athena’s honor, tomboy? Or are you too drunk on the nerd, Miranda’s bootleg rum to duel me?” she asked the constable, wrapping her fingers around the basket hilt of her rapier sword.

“Oh, but wait,” she said, tapping a finger against her chin and looking down at the Hobbit, ”who is the rapier champion of the Bree-lands? And has been since she was thirteen-years-old?”

“Why Philomena Brooks of course,” said Westley, bowing from his waist with a dramatic sweep of his left arm.

“That’s right, I am,” confirmed Philomena, smiling arrogantly at Annabelle before addressing Westley once more, “What you think Appledore, is that corset on Athena looking a little tighter than usual?”

“I think you are right,” agreed Westley, plucking the quill from his cap and scratching its darkened tip on a small piece of parchment.

Athena clenched her trembling fists, as trails of invisible steam rose from the high roll of her hair.

“I’m sure my readers would love to know that the lead actress of The Sparrow is fattening up,” laughed Philomena, turning to leave.

“Why can’t you write the truth for once?” asked Athena, chiding the vile woman.

Philomena laughed. “Truth? Oh Athena, you really are a dumb blonde aren’t you?” she said, “Don’t you know? Truth is only a matter of perspective.

Westley pivoted with a hop, following his boss out of the bookstore.


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*
@Tharmáras
@Fuin Elda
Image Image

Philomena and Westley collided dripping pints of ale as they walked along the Market, celebrating their victory in the bookstore.

“Make sure you make Athena look like an Oliphaunt on next week’s cover,” she said to the Hobbit, taking a swing at her beverage before tossing the unfinished mug aside. It fell on the paved ground and spilled alcohol onto the street as it rolled away.

“Don’t worry, I will,” chuckled Westley, taking a gulp and throwing his mug too.

Philomena licked her lips before spotting a few familiar faces and a crooked smirk stretched across her face.

“Psst! Follow me, partner,” she whispered to Westley, coming up to the stall of Aigronding Mordagnir.

“Why if isn’t the Herald of Pixie Valley,” laughed Philomena, “Taking a break from dancing around tree trunks to peddle your fairy dust?”

“How is Hatholdir by the way, I hear he’s the King of his own island, and you-” she snickered, “sell cider on the side of the road?”

Philomena flicked an elbow at Westley. “I hear Aigronding’s people are leaving Middle-earth by the boatloads.”

“Good,” she said, returning her attention to the Elves with contempt, “Beat it. We don’t need you around.”

“Yeah,” repeated Westley, “beat it!

Philomena caught a glimpse of the necklaces in the adjacent stall and shook her head. “What is it with you pointy-eared freaks and your jewelry? Good grief!”

Westley pointed at their vendor, Fuin Elda. “That’s Fuin,” he said.

Fooo-eeeen?” uttered Philomena in a prolonged tone, “What kind of a stupid name is that? Did your parents sneeze when they picked that one out?”

“F-Fuin!” sneezed Westley.

“Bless you,” replied Philomena.

They held one another and guffawed.

Philomena then switched targets, studying Tharmáras and his children. “Stuck with the brats again today, Thar? I guess your wife must wear the breeches at home.”

“Let’s hope this one works out, but they do say that third time’s the charm, no? Of course, for you, it’s the fourth,” she chortled, looking at his family’s bodyguard, “Don’t worry, I’m sure if things fall through with Nariel, Mauya here will take you back. Leftovers make an excellent substitute for a full meal.

Westley tugged at her leather pants, and Philomena raised an eyebrow. She stepped forward to the Elf-woman who didn’t seem as audible as the others. “Hello! Hello-o-o!” exclaimed Philomena, waving her right hand and snapping her fingers rudely in front of Girithniel’s face.

“Middle-earth to Mute Elf-girl!”

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 582 
Posts: 2650
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@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
From Staddle to Bree - Midmorning


Brooke's arms were wrapped around herself, shivering with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders for warmth; the only wrap she had against the cold. She was busy trying to think of any way possible that she might be able to buy enough food for them to live on, and also save back a little bit of the money and not let Claire know about it. She had a small stash saved back, and was saving up for a new book that she wanted very much to own. She still needed a good deal of money though and she had not much hope of getting it anytime soon. She feared they might sell out before she could get the chance, but it took a long time to save anything up.

Her first errands, she knew, had to be the letters. The girl wanted nothing more than to curl up in her room and read, but knew she had little choice about fulfilling her appointed errands. She frowned to herself at the thought of her awful stepmother. Claire probably went back to bed after Brooke left, hiding under her warm covers while Brooke was trudging through the snow, shivering. At least it was mostly quiet out here, and no bothersome people were out and about. 'Because everyone else is staying inside where it's warm.' She thought to herself, rubbing her cold arms. She watched her breath make puffs of white fog in the cold air, and tried to imagine herself as her favorite character in her book, venturing out bravely into the world to do great adventures and things.

After struggling up over the hill and then trying her best not to slip and slide down the other side into the larger city of Bree, Brooke stopped to catch her breath at the edge of town, leaning on a fence-post. More white puffs of breath in the frigid air. Finally, she continued onward, debating whether she might go next to check on that book and see if it was still there in the bookshop.

Just ahead of her, the barber shop sat, looking quite intimidating, as if daring her to approach. Brooke paused in the street and stared at it. Her stomach felt all fluttery and she hugged herself tighter. She wasn't sure if it was the cold or her nervousness that made her shiver harder. She wasn’t very familiar with the proprietor, but she knew he was a drunkard, and he had always frightened her because he seemed a bit like her father, who was also a drunkard. She certainly did not want to be anywhere alone with him. Who knows what sort of creep this guy might be.

She took a shaky breath and trudged onward, toward her destination. Maybe she could just hand him the letter and hurry off. She hoped it would be that easy. Stopping on the doorstep going to the barber shop, Brooke hesitated. She glanced around. The streets were empty. Earlier, she had felt like that was a good thing. Now, she wasn't so sure. Swallowing nervously, Brooke gave a timid knock on the door to the shop. She practically winced at the noise.. it sounded loud to her ears, yet she knew it wasn't loud enough to really be effective. It was barely a tentative tap on the door; it was quite likely that no one could have heard it but herself. After a moment of fidgeting with the edge of her leather satchel, Brooke began to wonder if anyone was coming.


Should she knock again? Should she wait? There's no way that knock was loud enough, right? Maybe she could just stick the envelope under the door and run before anyone came to answer the door? No... Claire would find out somehow. With a nearly inaudible groan, reluctant to accomplish her errands even though it was so cold here, Brooke knew she would have to knock louder. 'Maybe he's not home...' She thought, half-hopeful, but she knew that wasn't likely to be the case.

She knocked again on the door. Surely that was loud enough.. her knuckles hurt from the cold and the knocking, and she'd heard it loud enough. It sounded far too loud in the empty street, but she hoped it was enough. She stepped back and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, fidgeting a little as she waited.


(@Tharmáras Could I please have my shopkeepers re-added to the list?
Vendor: Walto Tunnely
Race: Hobbit
Stall: Tunnely's General Goods
Selling: General goods; dry goods/groceries when available(according to season)
Help: Sometimes you'll find Mrs Tunnely, or their youngest daughter, Daffodil, helping out around the store, but it's usually just Mr Tunnely himself.

And,

Vendor: Lauryl Woods
Race: Human
Stall: Wood's Wools and Weaves
Selling: Wool, Yarn, fabric, and items made of wool (Hats, socks, blankets, etc)

Also will you please re-add my cop, Peter Larkson, to the hill watch roster? I think he was a sergeant? Or was it lieutenant?)
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
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Aislin
Noticing Brooke
@Rillewen

She had been enjoying a few moments of restless sleep, on a doorstep of someone's house, huddled up in an old cloak that she had found discarded - it made for a rather good blanket and a bit of a hiding place from the chill of the night. Aislin had hope that people who lived in this house would not decide to leave too early and knock her out by swinging the door wide open. She had already been chased away from a few other places that night.

A few moments of sweet sleep she had enjoyed, when she heard repeated knocking somewhere nearby. With an annoyed sigh, she stood up, wrapped the cloak around her thin frame and stepped out to see what was going on.

She saw a girl, maybe a couple years older than herself, staring intently at the door of barber's shop.

"Think anyone is awake there yet?" Aislin spoke suddenly in a clear and cheerful, though somewhat sleepy voice, addressing Brooke. She stood some ways off, in the middle of the street, only a a few strands of black hair peeking out from the covering of the oversized cloak. "Might as well get yelled at, if anyone answers the door," she added, making assumptions from what rumours she had heard around the town.
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@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop


Brooke shivered as she stood in the cold. Seeing as she personally didn't have a very steady sleep schedule, she had a hard time with knowing for sure what other people's wake up times were. Still, she had a feeling that most businesses would be opening about now. Was she even supposed to knock at a business? She normally wouldn't, but this felt different to her, somehow. Besides, women didn't usually come into places like this, and she felt awkward about that, in and of itself.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it startled her when she heard someone speak behind her. She jumped, spinning around, then observed the other girl, slightly younger perhaps than herself. Brooke rubbed her arms as she stood there on the doorstep of the shop. "Um, I don't know. I don't see any hours posted." She pointed out, a little awkward. She wondered why that was. Did the guy not keep certain business hours? She wished she didn't have to do this stupid errand. Why couldn't her stepmother go and do this herself? The answer, of course, she already knew; Claire wasn't going out in the cold, in the early hours of the day, to deliver a message. She had Brooke to do that for her.

She tried not to think about that as she looked at the other girl. "S-Sorry if I bothered you." She mumbled apologetically. Maybe she ought to slip the letter under the door and go on about her shopping and be done with it. She wasn't sure if she'd seen this girl around before, but she didn't know all that many people anyway, so that wasn't too surprising. "Um.. do you live near here?" She asked, thinking that maybe she could tell Brooke when the guy usually opened his shop.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Aislin
Buckthorn Barbers

@Rillewen , @Ercassie

It seemed that Brooke did not display a hostile attitude or immediate dislike to her, so Aislin came a bit closer and allowed the cloak to slip off of her head to reveal an unkempt mop of black hair, a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and a small friendly grin.

"Nah, not living here. If anything, I've been round and about for a week or so," she shrugged. "Locals ain't too friendly. I can work, but no one offers anything but a handful of nasty words." But she was not about to turn this unexpected meeting into a complaint session of how difficult her life had become.

"Name's Aislin, by the way. And yours?" she finally remembered to make some sort of introductions.

Then she walked up to the shop and peered through the window in an attempt to see if there was any movement within, and then tried the door, finding it locked.

"Hey... Is it something really important?" she asked with a nod towards the letter Brooke held. "I could raise some proper noise in that case to get the folk to come out, already used being yelled at for no reason at all, so one more time wouldn't change anything." Aislin offered, and then added, "Unless it can wait, of course."
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Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorns Barbers Shop
@Pele Alarion @Rillewen


Henley Buckthorn was a tall man, but not overly impressive in his frame. He presented as an overgrown fawn, all elbows and knees. His hair was the next thing that people tended to notice about him, for all the wrong reasons. A barber, whose vocation set him to cut hair, shave beards, generally improve on a customer’s appearance … he was no good advertisement for his own profession. The mousey brown hair was greasy, unkempt, and his jaw was grizzled. His expression was no real invitation for anyone to spend time with him either, for the pale eyes were glazed by whisky which still wafted from his unwashed shirt. He hung about the wooden doorframe, like a vast sheet of dirty laundry. Indeed it seemed that a mere breeze would carry him from his swaying height, to the wooden floor.

The dog was a bloodhound, and his bark may have been worse than his bite, but noone would know. He had never bitten anybody. He was good tempered, cowed by his master, whom he followed about like a shadow. But for all the love and devotion he bore for Henley, all the loyalty … there was not a thing the man could do about the canine’s noise.


As soon as the girl (Brooke) had begun to pound upon his master’s door, the dog had awoken. Henley too had stirred, from where he was curled upon the floor of the barber shop. But the man had instinctively rolled up in his foetal state. The ‘one drink’ last night had turned to ‘two drinks’ had turned to ‘two bottles’. He was not sure where he even had obtained the coin to afford such a gluttonous fiesta. His head could not focus upon that dilemma though, not when it felt like an egg, with cracks already fracturing it’s thin skin. Every pound of the door, the man groaned a little louder, and the dog ran around and around him until he threw … he could not find a stick or equivalent to hand. Waving one hand, dismissive, the dog had watched the non-stick not fly across the room. And barked with renewed excitement.

That was when the man had risen, slowly, haphazard. At full height, he staggered over the sheer nothing in his path, dancing a zigzag across the room. He basically fell against the door, with a loud crash that saw it shudder on it’s hinges. But it was yet locked and so a new hunt then commenced, to locate the keys. He searched his pockets last, only after he had torn apart the already dishevelled room. No harm done there, but time wasted. It would be typical if his caller had given up by the time he got to them, but mayhaps the commotion he was raising would assure them he was home. After all, some times folk called for him whom he could not afford to ignore. Literally, he could not afford to insult certain folks.


Managing the key into the lock had never been more of a chore, and he threw an open hand, frustrated, against the dark wood more than once. The dog bellowed his relentless chant of support, sat at the man’s feet, but when the key finally worked it’s magic, the animal loitered behind his master. His howling presence made sure the caller knew that he was on hand, though he was hiding. Henley seemed though unafraid.

It took him a moment glancing forward, until he tried casting his gaze down, to find a girl stood upon his stoop. A second was stood beside her. A shadow across the street made the barber glance up, and just as swiftly shake the thought off that he had imagined anyone at all stood there. A foot stamped hard down to suggest the dog be calm, though the man took up a howl in his stead, for he had no boot upon that foot, only upon the other. He wiped a shaking hand over his face, to try and properly rouse his senses, before wiping any grime he’d gained there down his soiled trews.

Slowly the pain subsided in his bare foot, and he found the strength to make enquiries.

What’s all this now ?” he peered through the bleary sight of part-awake, and fought to focus on the two potential customers. “You gels got up a fancy ter git your braids shorn ?” Almost falling off the balance which had caught him against one door beam, he caught himself upon the other, just in time to keep from falling flat in front of both of them.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 582 
Posts: 2650
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop


Brooke relaxed a bit when the other girl(Aislin) spoke friendly enough toward Brooke. She smiled faintly at the girl, but it was hard to smile very much when she was still very cold and her thin blanket was not really sufficient for this sort of weather, though it was all she had. The other girl's cloak looked like it must be warmer, in fact, but she didn't begrudge her the cloak. From the looks and sounds of what she said, Aislin didn't even have a home to go to.

"They aren't usually, no." Brooke agreed, shivering. She had never really known any of the locals to be all that friendly to her. But then, she mostly stayed indoors to avoid them. She didn't meet all that many people, but whenever she came out to town to do errands, it seemed that most people gave her dirty looks or tried to avoid her, and she'd heard people whispering and telling their kids to avoid her. It was a little nice to meet someone who didn't know her or her family's reputation.
"I'm Brooke." She answered Aislin, giving a tiny smile. The smile faltered a bit as she watched the other girl try the locked door. Her attention was called back to the letter, and she hesitated. "Oh...uh..." She looked down at it. She honestly had no idea if it was important, but according to Claire, it was vital that she deliver it at once. She wrapped her blanket closer around her shoulders, debating.

"I could raise some proper noise in that case to get the folk to come out, already used being yelled at for no reason at all, so one more time wouldn't change anything." Aislin offered, to which Brooke's eyes widened, feeling a little alarmed by this suggestion.

She hastily shook her head. "Oh, no. Th-that isn't n-necessary, really." She assured her, teeth chattering slightly. "It... c-can wait, I just hoped..." She trailed off as she heard the sound of someone stirring inside, and footsteps approached the door. Brooke tensed with a nervous feeling in her stomach, then jumped as a dog's barking could be heard from inside. A crash against the door made her jump back a bit further, nearly slipping on some ice, but managed to regain her balance. She glanced nervously at Aislin, and let out a slow shaky breath, which showed as a little puff of white around her mouth in the frosty air. She could hear noises like he was fumbling around at the door. Should she tell Aislin to go on? Or would she be better off with another person around?

Brooke remained hesitating as she debated about what to do. She didn't want to be all alone with Henley, but she also didn't want the younger girl to be subjected to a possibility dangerous drunkard. Torn between the two decisions, Brooke stood rooted to the spot until at last, the door flung open and the man stood there, intimidating, drunk or hungover, and probably angry.
Brooke flinched slightly as the man stomped on his own foot. That must have hurt. She fidgeted, trying not to breathe too deeply because of the horrible alcohol smell hovering about the man before her. She tried to figure out what exactly to say. At last he demanded to know what they were doing there.

“What’s all this now? ...You gels got up a fancy ter git your braids shorn?”

"N..no, no sir." Brooke stammered, nervous as well as cold, now. This should be simple enough. She glanced uneasily at the dog, then at the man, debating which was more of a danger to her. At last she tentatively held out the letter for Henley. "I... um, I was told to deliver this to you... as soon as I could." She explained, her gaze downcast as she offered the envelope to him. With any luck, her first task would be completed now. But somehow, she had some feeling that she would have more to do with this task before it was finished.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Aislin
Buckthorn Barbers

@Rillewen , @Ercassie

As the man came crashing against the door, Aislin peered at him and out of curiosity tried to get a peek indoors; besides, she was not too concerned about the dog, but still all of this sudden noise sent her rushing away from the door. In her haste she even dropped the cloak, but after taking a few moments to breathe deeply and regard the other man on the street who had spoken to them with a small smile, she blushed in embarrassment and returned to pick up the cloak.

After all it was her most treasured possession and would keep her reasonably warm during the many cold nights. The worn out leggings and shirt did little to protect her from the chilly weather, even though she had done her best to patch the garments up, when a new tear appeared on the knee or elbow, or somewhere along the edges. But the thread would soon run out too...

Draping the cloak around her shoulders once again, she stared at the man who finally appeared in the doorway, and at his dog. She wondered if the other stranger was still somewhere around, just in case... But then again, they could easily escape this man who could barely stand on his feet, could they not?

She observed Brooke hand over the letter, half prepared to defend the new acquaintance, should the need arise, though she had nearly fled just moments ago. Then Aislin turned her attention to the dog, gently patting her hand against her thigh to see if it would be friendly and maybe wag the tail instead of barking.
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Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorns Barbers Shop
@Pele Alarion @Rillewen


Henley drew his head to gaze from one girl to the other, thankful that they stood not so same in appearance he might think that he was seeing double. Only the one of them responded to his question and he took her to be the one in charge of .. whatever this was. An envelope was thrust toward him, and the barber’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from it to the young thing eager to be rid of it.

She called him ‘sir’ and Buckthorn might have swaggered in an absurd pride, but that he had raised his sore foot, and massaged it now in one hand. This left him less than stately in his posture, yet still able to gaze down upon the pair of intruders.

Yer woke me,” he made them aware of the offense. “For what good reason ? Who was it sent yer ?


There was little chance that accepting or else inspecting the envelope could give him this information as Henley had never wasted time on reading further than his own name. That he had painted in spidery black letters outside of the store as soon as his father passed on. Horace Buckthorn had been many things but he ensured that his son had the means to continue their modest legacy. No wife would consider accepting the original barber, so he had been forced to have another cater to his needs.

Horace had spent many a night in the company of ‘Gem’, a tavern wench with something of a reputation. She had catered to the needs of many lonely men, before her passing, and then her brood of consequent offspring had been left alone. But Horace was convinced that Henley was his, and with the same fine hair as his mother, would be a boon to the business. He took the child, raised him, taught him all that he knew about the business, until he too had passed on.


Henley had not tended the proper attention to his now nest of long hair, but he had paid better mind of his beloved mother, recalling how she had held him close when he was very young. The only woman in town that the younger Buckthorn gave time to these days was the lovely Claire Willows. Hours he would spend pressed against her to a state of calm, begging she sing him lullabies. Just like his mother once, so long ago.


There was nothing about the two young girls before him which led him to believe they would soothe his cares. ‘As soon as I could ..’ the girl said, implying that it was urgent.

It had best be worth my getting up for,” he warned Brooke, trying to wave a finger at her and almost falling off balance as he leant in closer. “Damn near broke my door down an’ all ..” he added with a grump, observing Aislin turn her attention to his dog.


The animal had of course leapt up at her the moment shown a piece of attention. Ready to bowl the slight girl over onto her back, unless she could handle the sudden ‘assault’. Barley the bloodhound ceased with his barking at least, as he turned his tongue instead to slavering over his new friend.

You ! Hey, you stop now ! Don’t do that !” Henley rounded upon the pair, though failed to clarify whether he was berating the dog or the young girl. He didn’t recognise this one any more than the other female. But they were not here to give him business and unless there was a wad of coin in the envelope, he saw little reason to get excited by their visit. Eyeing the envelope again, he saw that it looked to have only paper inside. In an effort to frown, he suddenly threw one hand across his mouth, expecting to sneeze, and instead released a mighty belch. As his sore foot dropped from the caressing hand that held it back onto the porch, he cussed aloud.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 582 
Posts: 2650
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Ercassie @Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop


Brooke glanced briefly toward Aislin when she practically flew away from the door. That was exactly what Brooke wanted to do, but she had to get rid of this stupid letter. She had to stay put, as much as she wanted to get away from there. The smell of alcohol coming from the guy in front of her was almost too much for her, and she was trying to hold her breath as much as she could. Then there was the language.. Brooke tried not to cringe at every curse word that issued forth from Henley's mouth but there were so many that she was having trouble. Not to mention the atrocious grammar. The people in her books didn't talk so crudely... why couldn't she be in one of those stories?

During the moment when Aislin had dropped her cloak, Brooke noticed the poor state of the girl's clothing. She felt bad for her, and also felt glad that she had the cloak. Brooke's clothes hadn't gotten that bad yet, primarily because her mother had taught her how to patch clothing, for which she supposed she ought to be glad of. Only her shoes had long since worn out, leading Brooke to get creative and make some new ones, woven from the bark of birch trees that grew behind her house. She hoped Aislin's shoes were enough to keep her feet from freezing in this cold weather. For now, though, Brooke focused on accomplishing her task, but her mind was half thinking on the matter of the other girl. Maybe she could try and do something to help her. Brooke felt more inclined to want to help her, since she had been nice enough to Brooke and not treated her like something to be scorned.

"Um..." Brooke looked back at Henley, shrinking back a little, though maybe not noticeably so. He was seriously accusing her of nearly breaking his door down? She'd barely tapped on it the first time, and then had knocked more like a normal person... The door probably did more damage to to her poor knuckles. She stopped herself from saying anything about that though, as he asked who the letter was from. She refrained from answering, 'my stepmother' and cleared her throat softly before speaking. "C-Claire..Willows." She answered, though having to add her own last name after Claire's seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth, figuratively. "She insisted that I make sure you get it." She held back a sigh, wishing she could be done here. Would he just take the letter already? Getting a 'thanks' was too much to ask for, she was sure, but she didn't mind that. She considered just setting it down on something so he could get it for himself in his own time, but she didn't really see anything she could set it on. "Um..." She tried to think how to nicely ask 'can I go now?'. "So... here it is..." She tried offering it to him again, feeling quite awkward about this.

She cringed a bit as he dropped his foot, burped, and began cussing. Brooke wished she had some means of going invisible. If she could just...but no, even if she could go invisible, her footprints would show in the snow if she ran away. She bit her lip and waited, wrapping her arms around herself to try and warm up under her blanket-shawl, the letter still in her hand. It was far too cold to be standing out here without gloves or a proper coat, and her arms and hands, and feet were starting to feel numb with the cold. She wondered if maybe she could take a few minutes to warm up in the inn after this was accomplished, although she wasn't sure she liked that idea... certain drunk people might be lurking there as well.

Brooke glanced over toward Aislin, catching her breath as she watched the dog go to attack the other girl. For a second she tensed, fearing it was going to bite Aislin, but then relaxed when she saw that all it was doing was getting attention. Nothing to be worried about. Until Henley started yelling. Brooke jumped a bit at the sudden, “You! Hey, you stop now! Don’t do that!”

Who was he yelling at? Brooke froze, fearing he was going to come rushing to attack Aislin for daring to try and pet his dog. She had no idea what sort of temper this guy might have. If he was the sort that would come running out and hit the girl in a fit of anger, Brooke was tensed and ready to flee, and hoped that Aislin was ready to run too. She thought swiftly to think of a few places they might be able to hide. She supposed, if nothing else, they might be safe enough in the Prancing Pony, and it would be warm there. Though, for now she waited to see what was going to happen next... they might not need to run after all.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Aislin
Buckthorn Barber's

@Ercassie , @Rillewen

Her attention was distracted from the exchange between the drunk man and the newly made acquaintance with the letter, as the dog responded to the small movement of hand she had made and rushed at her.

"Oy, careful lad!" she exclaimed, as her knees buckled under the dog's weight, and she fell unto her butt on the cold ground. The dog's excitement was so obvious and expressed by the eager licking that Aislin could not help but laugh. She scratched behind the dog's ears and then tried to keep it back enough to scramble back to her feet.

The previous fright she had experienced from the crashing on the door was now gone, and she merely looked at the man in response to his yell.

"I mean no harm. He's just... rather cute," she said, finally finding enough space to get up. Now she looked questioningly at Brooke to see how far her letter delivering business had gone. At any rate it seemed that the guy was not too eager to receive any consignments after all.
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Chief Counsellor of Gondor
Points: 2 909 
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Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorns Barbers Shop
@Pele Alarion @Rillewen


Barley here ain’t ‘cute’” the Barber protested, as the ragtag little girl picked herself up. “He’s yer run-a-the-mill coldblood killer ! He’s a guard dog !Henley tried the threat with a serious line to his mouth, while the amiable dog did nothing to support such an unlikely claim. Running merrily around Aislin, he looked thrilled to have made a friend who would tickle his ears .. instead of throwing things and stomping about a lot.

He’ll eat yer soon as look at yer, ‘specially for trespassing and vandalising other folkses property,” the Breeman was fooling noone but himself, and indeed the dog had not quite lived up to expectations. Still it seemed to forgive him for forgetting to feed them both. It was company and a man like Mr Buckthorn wasn’t dripping in that sort of luxury. “Not enough meat on yer bones though,” he concluded, supposing this was the only reason the small urchin was not maimed and devoured right there and then. The dog sniffed at her hands, tongue lolling one sided from it’s non-slavering jaw.


The Man’s attention returned to Brooke as though sizing her up also, for dogmeat. Else it was the name ‘Claire Willows’ which lured him back to the letter. That woman was a siren and Henley a helpless sailor, or the Bree equivalent. Nonetheless, he too now wore a stupid grin, that near matched the bloodhound’s.

Claire” the barber spoke that woman's name as though it was a song. He sighed heavily and his demeanour utterly altered. “An angel that woman,” he decided to declare. It went without question that Mrs Willows would not have to come all the way into town herself. People, he supposed, were lining up to do things for her. He knew that he would. He had, in fact. She would hold him tight to her chest and let him stroke her golden hair. She was a goddess.


Come then, tell me what she’s got ter say to me,” he clung with one hand from the doorframe and veered down over the taller girl. Claire always had nice things to say to him, when he visited her home, he wasn't bothered by the thought of these two young things hearing the like.

None a- us wanna stand around here all the bleedin’ day ..” Somehow his being cold on the porch (he'd concluded) was the girl’s fault for loitering, for hesitating. She looked a timid little thing, not like the warm sweethearted Claire who was always so embracing. Literally. “Yer can ... actually ... read ... this here letter, eh ?” he asked, with a mocking laugh which dared her to demand that he read it for himself.

It was quite clear he would not without her assistance. And then whatever Claire wanted wouldn’t be done.

Quick now, gel, afore my dog eats up yer little friend !” he added, yawning. Barley stuck his nose in Aislin's palm, and urged for her pets and attention merrily.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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@Ercassie @Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop


Brooke relaxed a bit, once it seemed that Aislin was alright. The dog was not attacking her, after all. In fact, he looked rather unlikely to attack anyone, despite Henley's claims. She watched the 'coldblood killer' hop around Aislin happily, begging for petting and attention. She thought he seemed a bit cute, too, but she didn't say so. He just looked so happy to have found someone to give him attention. Brooke gave a faint little smile at this and turned back toward Henley, anxious to complete her errand.

“Claire. An angel that woman,” the man said with a sigh. The goofy look on his face made it very difficult for Brooke not to roll her eyes.

'Angel? really?' Brooke couldn't help thinking. 'Well, I suppose even Melkor was technically an angel, wasn't he? A fallen one, but still an angel in a way...' She kept a 'poker face' on, although inside she was a mix of feelings. Disgusted. Amused. In fact, she wouldn't have known which to demonstrate outwardly. If she made a face of disgust, then Henley might take offense and decide he must 'defend' Claire. Or, if she burst out laughing at the idea of Claire being an angel, he would likely still feel the need to defend her. Best just to keep her face neutral in expression, while her thoughts remained in her head. This also included refraining from pointing out to the idiot that Claire was only faking all that nice nonsense, and that she was really quite a hideously awful person.

Finally, though, he was agreeing to receive the letter. Now she could be on her way and... wait, no. He was asking her to read it. Brooke paused and glanced from him to the letter. He wanted her to read the letter to him? She opened her mouth to protest. She had no desire to read this. For all she knew, it could be a love letter from her stepmother to this guy. But no words came out and she quickly closed her mouth again.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand, and then heard him questioning her own ability to read. Annoyance rose up inside her at his mocking laugh, and she inhaled a slow breath as she reminded herself to stay calm. It would help nothing for her to get angered.

"Yes, I can read." She answered in a soft tone. 'I suppose that means you can't, though,' She thought in a retort that she would never actually voice. She gave a small sigh. She might as well get it over with. Chances are, the man probably couldn't read, or he would probably have snatched the letter as soon as she told him it was from Claire.

Taking a quick glance over at Aislin, Brooke decided that she seemed preoccupied with the dog enough that maybe she wouldn't listen too much. Also, well, Brooke had thankfully not announced who 'Claire Willows' is, and Aislin may just assume that Brooke is a completely un-related messenger. And as for Henley's last 'threat' about the dog eating her friend, Brooke had no concerns about that whatsoever. The dog looked about as likely to eat Aislin as Henley was likely to suddenly become a completely sober man who never touched alcohol again.

Sliding the letter carefully out of the envelope, Brooke tried to keep her cold hands from shaking in the freezing air. Her fingers hurt from being so cold, and she knew they'd only go from there to being numb. She wished she had some gloves, but maybe if she read fast she could get someplace warm soon.

Opening the paper, Brooke blinked at the scribbled writing. Some spots were blotted messily, and she concluded that Claire must have been drunk when writing this. With a sigh, she began to read.

"Alright, it says;
"Dearest Henley," Brooke cringed a little at the words as well as the spelling. 'Deerest? seriously?' she mentally rolled her eyes, and then continued at a slower reading-pace than she would usually have, "I hope your.. business.." she corrected Claire's spelling in her head, "is very going well. You..surely have talent for it..enough. I haven't ever met a man with such skill and.. ability.." Brooke tried not to snicker at the way Claire had spelled the word. "..as yours. You're probably wondering why you're getting this letter so I will..explain."

Brooke sighed a little, trying not to be too obvious about it. Translating all the misspellings was both amusing and pathetic. 'Goodness, what sort of torture has that woman been putting these words through to accomplish such horrendeous spellings?' Brooke wondered, during a brief pause. She continued reading, feeling rather annoyed that she probably sounded like she could hardly read, herself, due to the fact she was having to translate the letter as she went.

"I felt it.. necessary to let you know that after the card game the other night, you have come to owe me.. quit?" Brooke was briefly puzzled by the word here before figuring out what Claire meant to write. "..quite, a lot of money. As much.. I as? ...Oh, As much as I look forward to your visits, I'm afraid I can't make time to meet with you unless you can pay your.. debts." Brooke bit her lip to keep from looking too amused by the strange spellings used. She cleared her throat and continued in a detached sort of tone, "I'd be.. quite sad if you weren't able to come visit again but my family must eat... you know." She had to struggle not to snicker at that one. 'Yeah, cause the family is definitely her topmost concern.' she thought to herself, sarcastically.

"If you have the money now you can send to it me by the girl..." She paused and stared for a second at the word 'Boork' on the paper. Seriously? "Brooke," she continued, feeling annoyed that the woman couldn't even spell her name right, "when you get this letter, or if you wish to make some other...arrangements for..paying your debts off, I'd be happy to..discuss it with you." Brooke stopped there and glanced up at Henley, unsure how he might react to this. She fidgeted slightly. "Um, that would be me.. I'm Brooke." She added, clarifying since he likely had no idea of her name. There was more to the letter but she really needed a break from it for a moment. The atrocious spelling was giving her a headache, and she thought she might as well see if he might have some money he could give her right now. That would probably make things easier, right? Though, of course, Claire didn't bother to mention how much he was supposed to give her.



Deerest Henli,
i hoap yur bisness is goign vurry well. Yu shorely hav tallint fur it enuff. i havnet eevr met a man with such skeell adn ablitily as yurs. yur probally wondring wye yur getnig this lettr so i will esplayn. i felt it nesesary to let yu know that afer teh caard gaym the uther nit yu havv com to ow me quit a lot of money. as much I as look foward to yur visits im afrayd i canet mayk tiim to meet with yu unlez yu can pay yur detts. id be quit sad if yu wernt abel to come visit agin but my famlee must eat yu now. If yu havv the munee no yu can send to it me by the girl Boork wenn yu get this letre. or if yu wish to make sum othr aragnmets for paaing yur detts off id be hapee to disguss it with yu.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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@Raisins

Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke winced slightly at all the clanging noise she was making as she walked. The noise was unsettling, given that she tended to try and move quietly. Her arms were full, carrying one very dented pot, filled with a variety of bent or broken utensils and other things. Hooked on one arm was a tripod for holding a pot, one leg bent very sharply, while the other two were a little off as well. A fire poker and a few other things were threatening to slip out from under her other arm, but she had made it thus far and only had to stop and readjust her load once. Hopefully, she could make it just a bit further. Just a little bit further and she’d have arrived at her destination.

Then, of course, there was always the concern that Claire had not sent her with enough money. She had no idea, especially since she’d slipped a couple of things in of her own, like the broken hammer she hoped might be fixable so that she might try and fix a few things. And she was hoping to maybe find a lock. But she’d have to wait and see when she got there. After she’d arrived in Bree, the girl paused to look around as she caught her breath after the climb up the hill from Staddle. Her load was carefully laid down while she rested, and after a few minutes, she sighed and gathered her things up again before setting off to the place. She’d seen it plenty of times, but had never really had any business there.

The morning had been going well enough, except for the list of chores Brooke was ordered to complete, until Claire came in, in a rage, quite upset over the fact that her favorite necklace was missing. The woman ranted about it having been stolen for a good twenty minutes before Brooke managed to get a word in, quietly reminding her that it was actually in the pile of metal-things-that-needed-to-be-fixed. Which of course led to a rant about why those things were still sitting there,(the reason being that Brooke’s dad had been supposed to take care of that, and just never bothered to do it). This then led to Claire demanding that Brooke take them to town and get them fixed. She might have argued, but it did give her an excuse to get out of the house and away from Claire, and so here she was. Arriving in town.

The Tingdain stall was just ahead, and the girl quietly hoped they weren’t too busy. She’d hate to bother them if they had a lot of customers, especially since she had quite a lot of things here to ask them to fix. As she approached, she saw that someone was already there ahead of her. She bit her lip and hung back, reluctant to go any closer, in case she seemed to be trying to push her way in. Quietly setting the heavier and larger items down beside her, Brooke hugged the dented pot against her as she waited quietly, off to the side, a little nervous about the idea of having to talk to someone. An elf, at that… she was actually both excited and nervous about that, having never met any elves before, but then, what if she wasn’t very nice? She let her thoughts stray a little as she pondered on this, trying to take slow breaths as she waited very patiently for her turn.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:43 am, edited 3 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Aislin
Buckthorn Barber's

@Ercassie , @Rillewen

She could not help but grin at the threats made by Henley, though she sort of did believe that in the right circumstances Barley could be a very good guard dog. However, they had not been breaking into his property or anything, and the dog was the sweetest creature there was.

Aislin followed the dog with her eyes, as he circled her exuberantly, as if he had just tasted the freedom for the first time, though she supposed the man had to let the dog out at times...

"Barley is a good name," she concluded, and then knelt down to pet the dog some more. "Right?" She asked him, running her fingers through his fur, and then planting a small kiss on the very tip of his nose.

No matter how busy she was with the dog, Aislin could not help but listen in to Brooke reading the letter, and when her new acquaintance had gotten to what she thought was a full stop, it struck her as something funny. While her hands were busy with the dog, she glanced up at Henley to see whether he thought as much of the woman Claire when she now obviously wanted money from him. And somehow the girl assumed he must not have much, for drinking habits had to drain people's money as if they were putting them in pockets with holes.
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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With NPC and Brooke Willow
@Rillewen

She smiled and took the silver coins as the man purchased the bow from the stall happy to have sold one of the bigger items from the tingdains stall, not that coins overly concerned her too much, she liked to barter and trade wherever she could for supplies that she wanted or needed for herself or her students or other smiths like hides and furs, or bees wax. She saw another younger woman coming with her arms absolutely full and she looked a bit shocked at the sheer... amount of items that this young woman was holding in her arms.

"Hello..." Fuin looked over the piles in the arms and reached out to help take some of the items off of the young womans hands. "Looks like you have a fair bit of stuff needing... repairs." She said looking at some of the times that she could tell were in desperate need of help. She could see the dents in the pot that wouldn't take too much to fix but some of the other items would most certainly take a bit more work to get fixed. She was glad she had brought her little mini forge, so she could do repairs this time. She wondered if perhaps some of these items were to be given as materials for the forge for payment, or if there was some other form of payment.

Fuin did notice that the man with the bow had stopped to look at Fuin with this new customer as had a few other people looking at Fuin and how she was interacting with this young woman, she honestly wasn't sure why the looks aside from the fact that there was so much to fix from this one woman that Fuin would likely not be able to fix anything for anyone else today at all because of the amount of things in this womans arms not realizing who this young woman was.

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@Raisins

Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


The wait was shorter than she'd expected, and when Brooke heard the elven lady speak to her, she nearly jumped, startled out of her thoughts. She'd been busy planning in her head how to go about what she wanted to say, but of course all of that flew out of her head the moment she was put on the spot. "Oh.." She timidly stepped closer, pulling the larger items along, and was a little alarmed as the lady began to take the things to help her. "I..um," She paused, fidgeting as she noticed the man staring, and wished he'd go on his way. "I.. I'm sorry to bother you," She fidgeted, shy as she kept her gaze down at the pot full of utensils and things, very uncomfortable with the staring.

"M-my stepmother sent me," She explained softly, digging out the necklace from the depths of the pot, she untangled it from a serving fork with bent prongs, and passed that to Fuin. "I'm...supposed to ask if.. I mean, can it be fixed? and how much? And-" She paused, catching herself before she said the rest of what Claire wanted her to ask. She wasn't about to repeat the question about whether it could be done without damaging the necklace. Nor would she ask for it to be done quickly so Claire could have it back within the hour. And she most certainly was not going to 'warn' her not to try replacing the jewels with fakes. That would all be incredibly rude, and Brooke refused to do that. But now what to say? "And..." She tried to think of something to add, realizing she'd set herself up to ask another question, and had nothing to ask at the moment. "Um... the other things, uh, how much for them to be fixed, too?" That worked well enough to fill in. She found a place to set the pot, because her arms were getting tired from holding it.

"I'm sorry there's so much," She added quietly, her gaze still locked down on the pile of broken items as her fingers toyed with a piece of leather that made up the flap on her bag, absently. "If..if it's too much trouble, it's alright.. but..well, she does really wants the necklace fixed.. if that's not too much trouble.. please." She said, feeling very self-conscious about this whole thing. She had tried to suggest that they ought not bring everything all at once, but rather to bring each item at the time that it broke, instead of saving it all back until they had a big pile. But of course, no one listened to her. They never listened to her, and so here she was, feeling bad about having so much stuff to take up the lady's time, which of course made it so other people might not get to get things they needed.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:43 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorns Barbers Shop
@Pele Alarion @Rillewen


Though their conversing was a drawn out affair, still the day looked a far old distance from the glorious blaze of mid day. So it was that Henley fell to hopping from his one foot to the other. Not this time in pain, but merely to try and retain some heat in his freezing bones. Crossed arms saw their hands run up and down the scrawny Barber’s biceps, to further assure the girl of his impatience. It was far too late to invite the two children inside his shop by this point, for winter had surely trespassed right on in behind him while they delayed upon the porch. He would have to light a fire now that would waste more money he did not have. As Brooke scowled and commenced her recital, Henley cast an eye back to his ‘guard dog’ and sighed for his own part. Warm air escaped his mouth as though it was a stove, set in a snowstorm. Breathing in, his teeth were close to chattering. And only the thought of Claire Willows made any impact upon his mood.


If he had put any real thought to what the woman may know (or care) of his business, Mr Buckthorn may have realised that Claire was intrigued only in so far as he retained a means of making coin … to pay her. He was a stranger to compliments however, and applied those from the letter eagerly to his ‘skill’, without ever troubling over the fact.

As soon as the subject turned from how amazing he was to how he should hand over his hard earned money, the Barber hissed through his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the expectant reader.

You’re making that part up,” he decided, snatching at the letter which Brooke held still. Ironing the parchment with his eyes did nothing to aid his suspicions, for want does not provide means. Henley could not read any more now than he could moments before, but nonetheless, he was happy to assume that he knew the truth of the matter. “Want me to give you money ?!” The man slapped one thigh with his strongest hand, still holding the piece of paper beyond Brooke’s reach. Unless she fancied to make a jump for it. “You’re a right pair of pint-sized crooks !” he now awarded Aislin guilt too, by sheer allegiance. “Git out of here ! Before you damn near ruin my guard dog .. turning him soft as that ! S’me as should demand coin from you ! For damages !


Barley may not have understood the words that Aislin spoke to him, but he liked the charm of her sweet tone. He also enjoyed the affection which she showered him with. Glancing back toward Henley, the dog gave an attention-seeking bark, to alert his master as to watch, and learn. This was how dogs ought be treated …

His master was rather occupied however. Screwing the letter into a paper ball, Henley pitched it out into the street. The dog immediately ran to fetch it back to his master, unless one of the two girls could retrieve it safely before him. Barley did become distracted after all, sniffing at a rather unsuspicious looking stone. And then relieving himself to wet the cobbles.


I spread word for Claire, deep into the ear of each and every man as comes into my store,” the barber bawled defensively at the young maids. “I gets her more business by sharing the secret of where all can find some honey. She should give me commission for my trouble. Or if she wants to ever have me proper tools untangle her sweet mane, that of her child’s maybe .. I’ll do that fer free of naught !

The negotiations had fallen askance from sense now, as the man grew clearly more indignant. “Don’t you dare come here looking to trick and bamboozle I !” he warned them, shaking one fist at Aislin for she seemed to the Man the more timid of the two, being silent so. "Barley ! Barley ! Come !

This last was delivered as the man rounded upon on bare heel and stomped back inside. The door slammed to a shut behind him, and the dog (who’d leapt up with great excitement upon hearing his name) was left to scrabble and scratch at the wood until he gave up and lay down upon the stoop.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow

@Rillewen

Fuin looked at the necklace, and then at the young woman she seemed quite nervous about everything and her previous customer was still watching which honestly the elleth was a bit confused about but dismissed it as she took the necklace with a frown. They kept watching but eventually were far enough away from her little shop that It was a rather simple fix looking at it the ring that made it so the clasp could hold onto the chain was missing, likely a bit of pressure and the jump ring had given way and the only reason the whole necklace wasn't lost was it was fairly heavy looking.

She put out her hand and took it looking at it with it's gold fine chain. "Yes I can fix this, it'll be a copper for the necklace, though, I think perhaps se should figure out what all needs to be fixed and how much it's all going to cost to fix so we can figure out what all can be fixed." She noted that the necklace had been tangled on a fork with bent tines, she also caught sight of a... she was pretty certain it was a hammer from the shape of the handle, and the pot itself and what looked like a tripod of cooking with the pot. She picked up the pot and looked in it with a frown, how it got dented confused her it was not normally easy to dent a pot like this it would take an extreme amount of violence she thought. Or a horse or mule getting angry and cold clocking the pot with all their might but the shape of the dents were wrong for that.

"I'm thinking I can fix all of this easily enough," She said calmly. "Did you bring coin or items to trade for the repairs?" She asked calmly she had a feeling it would be coin given how much stuff the girl had brought considering she wouldn't likely have the arm strength to bring something that Fuin would normally take in terms of trade though she tended to try to help those that didn't have a lot of coin for repairs whenever she could.

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@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop


The sudden change in the man's attitude both surprised Brooke, and didn't surprise her, somehow. She had half expected that he would become angry when he understood what she'd just read. Still, despite the fact she was already half expecting him to react in such a way, she was quite startled and alarmed when he snatched the letter from her hand, accusing her of making up the last part. The girl flinched visibly, as if expecting him to strike her as well, hastily retreating a couple of steps back from the door as swiftly as her numb feet would allow her. "N..no, I..." She tried to find the words to defend herself, but knew it would do no good. He was going to believe whatever he wanted to believe. Maybe he would see that it was not Brooke's own addition to the letter, now that he had finally decided to read it for himself... if he could even read. Which she doubted very much.

Shivering, she hugged her blanket around her shoulders, flinching slightly each time he yelled at her, or at Aislin. She felt very bad for the other girl, being included in with this simply because she was there at the same time as Brooke. "Sh-she's not..." she tried to protest to defend Aislin, but her timid voice wasn't near loud enough to be heard over Henley's angry one, yelling at the two girls to get out of there. She didn't bother finishing her sentence, and instead backed up a few more steps, even further alarmed when he suggested taking them to the Hill Watch. Having no interest in trying to reclaim the letter from him, she stumbled slightly over her own feet as she retreated further. She decided against mentioning to him that there was more yet to be read, however, and watched as he balled it up and threw it at her, which elicited another flinch on her part.

Sliding a little on a patch of ice, Brooke nearly fell down again, but managed to stay upright, barely. 'That explains a lot...' she thought as he spoke of spreading word about Claire. Any sarcastic retorts that she thought of would never be spoken out loud, however. She was far too afraid of his wrath to think of saying anything that might anger him further.

She had been nervous of the man before ever knocking upon his door, but before he had at least only been a grumpy drunk guy trying to hold himself up in the doorway. How swiftly drunk men fly into a frightful rage, Brooke had experienced from her own father more than she would have wished. Henley now seemed, in her eyes at least, to have turned into a terrifying, menacing villain from one of her books. Reading about such things was quite different from experiencing it in person. He seemed, in her imagination at least, to have transformed into one of the fearsome trolls or orcs from the stories her mother used to tell her, and Brooke backed away yet another step or two as he threatened her, shaking a fist at them both. Or maybe it was just at Aislin, but it was a threatening gesture, just the same, and Brooke saw it as being aimed at her just as much as it was aimed at Aislin.

After the door had slammed shut, Brooke stood frozen to the spot, shaking slightly. Just from cold, she tried to convince herself. With her head bowed slightly, she took several slow and shaky breaths as her throat felt as if it were tightening a bit. She wanted to cry, or rather she felt like she would cry. But she couldn't do that, not in the middle of the street with people(or even just one person) around. She tried to swallow the lump away and stood with her eyes closed for a moment as she forced her breathing to slow to normal the best she could. The fright was over now, the danger gone. She was alright, and so was Aislin. Right now, their worst enemy was the cold, and perhaps hunger.

Brooke slowly opened her eyes and made an effort to keep her expression void of emotion. She mustn't let anyone see how she was feeling, and certainly not that she was so near to tears. She let out a shaky breath, which puffed out white in the frosty air. Where did that letter go? Bits and pieces of the words written in the letter flashed into her mind. "Dearest Henley." and "You owe me money." Brooke could only imagine how that would look, should the letter fall into the wrong hands. Which was exactly what it was, of course, but still. Most people probably already knew about Claire, but Brooke still would rather not leave that lying around on the street, just waiting to be used to blackmail someone for some reason. It would be best to just reclaim the letter and keep it tucked safely away somewhere, she decided.

And that was when she noticed that the dog had it. Great. Should she leave him to it? He might eat the entire thing. But, then again, he might not. She thought about it for a moment, imagining that he might put up a fight if she were to try and take it. With her hand still a little shaky, keeping an eye on the door lest it should open once more and Henley come flying out to attack her, Brooke ventured closer, and closer, until she was near to the dog. She quietly knelt and began petting him, hoping to distract him away from the ball of parchment. As soon as she was able, she reached over and picked up the balled-up letter, then stuffed it into her bag to deal with it later. Giving Barley one last pat, she stood and backed away again.

Now, what? Brooke wrapped herself up the best she could in her blanket, shivering from the cold. She glanced over at Aislin, hesitating. She had no idea what to say to her, but she felt bad that she'd gotten drawn into all that. And she had been the one person Brooke had really ever met who was friendly to her. Now, would she also shun her? What could Brooke say? The girl probably would want nothing to do with her now. "S..sorry, for...all that." Brooke mumbled, figuring she ought to say that much at least. Now, she had best go on her way so Aislin could be rid of her presence. "I'll... just..go now." She added, her voice hardly audible.

With slumped shoulders, her gaze dropped down onto the snow at her feet as she started to walk. She had so hoped that Aislin might possibly be a potential friend, but there was surely no chance of that now, after all this. How stupid of her, to have thought she might have made a friend. Who would want to be friends with Brooke, knowing the sort of people she's forced to associate with? Brooke couldn't think of anything else to say to the girl, so she might as well get on with her errands. She thought it best to warm up a bit, but she could probably warm up in the store while she got a few supplies to bring back home; another errand she'd been sent to accomplish. That seemed like the best thing to do, so she turned her steps toward the store run by Mr. Tunnely. He was usually pretty nice, and willing to help customers with little money. Hopefully that might take some time, so that she might put off the other, even less pleasant errand Brooke had been demanded to accomplish...
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:32 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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@Raisins

Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


A copper piece to fix the necklace. Brooke was a bit surprised, having expected a lot more for that. She had figured it might take at least half a silver coin, being such a fancy thing with jewels and such. Knowing little about such things, she had not given a whole lot of thought into exactly what sort of things the prices were based upon. She was quite relieved, however, to hear that the necklace could be fixed. Otherwise Claire would have been quite upset, and of course, taken it out on Brooke for failing to accomplish a simple task. Which was absolutely beyond her control, of course, had the smith been unable to do it.

She was a little hesitant as it was suggested that they figure out how much everything would cost, but of course, that was logical. She had expected it might take more than, or at least all, of what Claire had sent her with, so had planned on getting that dealt with before anything else. "Oh.. alright." She glanced slightly toward the man who seemed to be lurking around, wishing he'd go away. Turning back to the elven smith, she suddenly wondered if maybe she shouldn't have pulled the necklace out in plain view of others, such as the lurking man. What a stupid move, she realized, suddenly feeling even more anxious. What if he tried to rob her on the way home?

A little preoccupied with such thoughts, she frowned a bit as she laid out the variety of items that were to be fixed, a little nervous about how much it would all come to, but also slightly hopeful, considering how little it cost to get the necklace fixed. "Um.." She hesitated before laying the hammer down... it was not actually part of what Claire had sent, nor did her stepmother know that Brooke had slipped it in. "I found this.. outside, in the grass, and.." She motioned toward the handle which was rotten and broken off. The head was rusty and old. "Well, I-I just wondered, if maybe.. you know.." She looked down at the thing, figuring it was dumb to even bring it. "I guess it's.. not, well.. it must be pretty old." She acknowledged, having no idea how long it might have lain out in the grass. It had been partially buried in the mud when she dug it up almost a year ago.

The question about whether she had coin or things to trade caught her off guard and she blinked at the elf. Trade? She hadn't even thought that might be an option, and had made a point of informing Claire that the person who ran the stall would probably expect money, which was why she had any at all. "I..uh. Coin. I didn't.. I mean," She bit her lip, frustrated with herself. Why was talking to people so hard sometimes? "I didn't know we could trade things." There, she finally finished a sentence. "Sorry." She added, unsure if that was a good or bad thing, so she figured she'd just apologize regardless.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Rillewen

"You're alright." Fuin said with a gentle smile she looked surprised at the cost for the necklace, but it was honestly a super simple fix especially since it was something she had premade wire for so it was just a matter of shaping a new jump ring which was minuscule in terms of how much material it would actually cost her and how much time. She looked at the hammer closely it was in rough shape.

"I can clean the rust off of it with a file and give it a new handle it should be good with that, the pot obviously needs it's dents banged out, and the fork needs its tines straightened, is it the only one or is there more cutlery in the pot to fix as well?" She asked taking a peak in the pot itself, though her question on how she was going to pay seemed to have stunned the poor girl and she stood up and looked at the girl her head tipped to the side slightly and she reiterated what she'd said earlier. "You're alright." She said.

"And coin is just fine, I honestly wasn't sure where or what you'd be carrying to trade with how much you had in your arms already, there is no need to apologize at all." Fuin sighed. "Some of the work is quick work - like the fork, the tripod shouldn't take too long either it needs to be heated and straightened. Together those will likely be a couple coppers, what is going to take longer though is the hammer and the pot, the pot especially as we'll need to be careful we don't thin the metal too much fixing it so that it develops holes, that will be a several copper and the hammer will be another few copper as well. Probably A silver and a half in total for everything if that seems fair?" Fuin said calmly. "Though I can't guarantee I'll get it done terribly fast, I will get it all done today before the market closes for you though if that is alright?"

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Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke hesitated, peeking into the pot to see what all she may have missed. "There..should be a few pieces?" She remembered there was a spoon that the head was bent back on, and had been 'fixed' and re-bent often enough that Brooke wondered if the metal might be weakened, so she'd slipped it into the pile, and there might be a few more forks, but she wasn't really sure what all was in there, as she wasn't the only one to add things. "And, there's a.." She paused, looking around. "A fire thingy.." She frowned, realizing the poker was missing. "I had it.." She frowned, confused where it may have gone, and looked under the table. "Oh, no.. I-I must have dropped it." She peered down at the grass, searching the area where she'd been standing before.

After a quick search of the immediate area, she discovered one half of it, but not the other. She searched around for a few more minutes before deciding it was not here. She frowned. "It was right here! I know had brought it.. it must've fallen somewhere along the way.. I'll have to go find it." She sighed, then paused as the elf lady asked if it was alright that it would take a while to fix everything. She was confused why she would be being asked that. "Oh, yes, of course. I wouldn't expect you to rush it or anything!" She widened her eyes at the very thought of demanding it to be finished quickly. "I.." She was about to say she wasn't in any hurry, but remembered Claire had demanded the necklace back as soon as possible. "Well," She frowned, trying to think how to word it without sounding rude or demanding. "I mean.. the necklace, will that take long? She.. um, was hoping to have it back soon." She explained, fidgeting a little, feeling bad. "The other things though... take as much time as you need, really."
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom

Fuin sat watching as the young woman scrambled about looking for things none of the items really were amazing peices to work with but it was cheaper always to fix pieces than it was to replace them so she couldn't blame the girl as she scrambled to find... Well Fuin wasn't sure what she was finding she hadn't actually said, other than a fire thingy. Goodness knows there were several fire thingies one could deal with the part that she had found wasn't overly helpful to Fuin in terms of figuring out what it was as it was the long handle of the thing, the head was missing and it could have been anything really.

She raised an eyebrow at the request for the necklace. "No the necklace won't take long at all." She was quite the nervous character and Fuin was still trying to place why she'd be so nervous. "You go run and see if you can find the other part of the 'fire thingy'" Fuin said with a chuckle "And I will get it done and possibly a few of the other smaller items that you've brought for me to fix for you." She pulled pot with all the cutlery and bits in it back behind her stall as well as the handle with the missing head. "What I get done will depend of course on how many other people come to buy items I've already got made but the necklace will be done for certain." She said calmly. and went to see if she could find the fine wire for making jewelry that she'd need.

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@Raisins

Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke hesitated at the thought of leaving, remembering Claire's demand that she watch the smith the whole time the necklace was being fixed. But then... Claire wouldn't have to know, and there was really no reason at all why Brooke shouldn't trust her. It was ridiculous anyway. The jewels were probably already fake anyway, she thought, since otherwise how could Claire have afforded to get such a piece of jewelry? Then again, she probably didn't buy it... there was no telling how the woman had acquired such a piece, and there was also no way Brooke could know whether the jewels were real or not. Whatever the case, she didn't think the nice elf lady would do anything that Claire suspected, so she nodded and set off slowly to go find the missing part to the poker. She watched the ground mostly as she retraced her steps, but also glanced up and around now and then. She didn't trust that man who kept lurking around, and was hoping he wouldn't follow her for some reason.

After she had gone some ways, she arrived near the top of the hill. She recalled that she had stopped to adjust her load there, and had had both pieces to it then. And she had not seen it anywhere between here and the stall, so it must be nearby. After searching around for a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the piece of metal, and quickly grabbed it. Glancing around again to make sure no one was lurking near, she hurried back toward the stall quickly, hurrying back with the other half of the poker in hand. She stopped a short distance from the stall to catch her breath, but was eager to get back to watch the rest of the things being repaired. She wished she could do things, not necessarily that, but.. things. Brooke rested a hand lightly on the leather bag at her side, recalling that her mother had made it. She used to do a lot of really nice things like that, but Brooke couldn't do sort of thing requiring skill, and it made her feel a bit sad, often.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:44 am, edited 3 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Lord of Imladris
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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom


Fuin heard the young woman walking away quickly as she found the thin gold and bronze wire that she needed the length that was needed was ridiculously small she found a tiny wire wrapping rod and wrapped the wire around it and tapped it lightly with a hammer making it tight before she took a small knife and tapped it against the wrapped wire cutting it.

She took a few small pliers that she had brought for fixing jewelry, mostly new pieces needing their lengths shortened so they didn't hang too long about the clients neck and held the tiny jump ring steady and slipped the chain onto it first and then the clasp that was hanging attached to the other end of the necklace clasp still. She glanced up as the customer that she had helped before the girl came back and looked at her. Fuin finished pinching the jump ring closed and blinked.

"Can I help you?" She asked as the man looked at her.

"Do you know who it is you're helping?"

"No, she's polite and paying though so is there an issue?"

"She's paying?" The man let out a laugh "I'll believe that when I see that."

Fuin raised an eyebrow at that. "I believe that is my problem not yours, poor thing was nervous and apologetic enough I'd appreciate if you'd leave her be."

"If Claire gave that girl money I'll spit." Fuin glared at the man and he got the hint. However with what he said she understood well enough, she recognized the name Claire, but she was not about to give this girl a hard time. She looked nothing like Claire and acted nothing like her, so perhaps her father had married Claire? She wasn't sure she didn't overly care.

She debated on setting the necklace near the table but with how that man had reacted she felt like it would be smarter to keep it on her incase someone decided to make the girls day worse. With that she picked up the cutlery setting it into her small forge and beginning the task of straightening it up and getting it to look right once more, she'd likely temper it to make it so they weren't as prone to bending but still could if over used without breaking them like hardening them would do.

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Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Continuing onward once she had recovered her breath, Brooke set the piece down beside the handle half before standing back. "I found it." She mentioned quietly, watching in curiosity whatever the smith was doing now. She was relieved to see that the man was gone finally, and felt slightly more relaxed now. Wrapping her arms around herself, she debated asking a few questions, but didn't want to annoy the lady and so instead, she kept quiet, curiously watching the metal things get hot, and wondered if she was going to completely remake the things or what. She opened her mouth to ask something, then immediately closed it, thinking she better not distract the smith or anything.

After a little while, she got to thinking on the fact that she'd added a couple more things after the lady had told her an estimated price. She looked over the various things that she'd been given a price for fixing, then looked at the additional things, which looked like more work. She frowned, getting a bit worried about that, and finally decided maybe she ought to ask about this. "Um," She hesitated, then continued on. "Is..is it going to be a whole lot more, with those other things added?" She asked quietly, hoping it wouldn't come to more than what she had.. in fact she hoped it would still come to a lot less than she had.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Lord of Imladris
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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom

Fuin smiled seeing the girl come back the end of the fire thing in her hand. "Ahhh A poker" Fuin said with a smile. "Yes that should be pretty easy to fix, though it will take welding to make sure it's properly fixed. So a few more coppers for it since it's just a weld not me having to add metal to it." Fuin said with a smile. She pulled the fork she was working on from the forge and gave it a few hits with her hammer straightening it. before putting it back into the forge to temper it as well as a spoon that was bent almost to ninety degrees from what it should be. the small bellows were locked for the time being so the items would sit decently without burning up to fast. "The necklace is done." She said pulling the piece of fine jewelry out and held it out for the young woman. "Should have the cultery done soon enough most of them are just straightening them and tempering them so they shouldn't bend too easily again unless they're being abused." She said with a smile. She looked at the girl, she had a hard time believing this poor quiet well mannered child was the daughter of Claire. She stood for a moment more glancing at the forge, she needed to go deal with the spoon. "I'll be back in a moment."

With that she went and quickly pulled the spoon from the forge and shaped it back the way it should be with a few strong strokes of her hammer before putting it back in the forge with the fork of to the edge of the fire. They pieces were so thin and such poor quality metal that it took almost no time at all to heat them and she had to keep them so far away from the main heat to maintain the temperature on them. She tossed another fork it's tines bent up to hell. Before looking this girl over again. She stepped towards her and spoke quietly. "I had a client come back tell me you were Claire Willows daughter and I can't make that fit, except that that necklace seems to be something that she'd wear compared to the rest of the items." Fuin said softly looking the girl in the eye "So I would very much like you to help me makes sense how someone as shy and polite and apologetic as you has someone like that as a mother." She made sure to say it softly enough so that the other vendors couldn't here her questioning the young woman so they couldn't bother her more than they likely already were.

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Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke was rather relieved to hear that it would be an easy fix. That would still leave her with quite a bit left to add into her stash that she was saving for a new book. She smiled slightly to hear this. "Alright, thank you." She answered softly, glad the smith had taken the time to give her an answer. If Brooke didn't have any other expenses come up, then before long, then it wouldn't be too long before she'd have enough to buy the book. Then she would begin saving for another one, of course. And it would be hard to decide which to buy, obviously, but she'd settle on one in the end, and have it read in about a day's time. Then reread several times over the next few weeks. She wished it was easier to get money so she could buy more of them, but with the people she called 'parents', that was nearly impossible.

She had no real idea what the elf lady meant by welding and tempering and such, but it wasn't really a big deal. She nodded quietly as she spoke about the different things she was doing as far as the cutlery and stuff. Brooke took the necklace and hesitated, thinking for a moment before slipping it into her bag, so it would be out of sight. "Thank you." She said again, before the lady smith went off to do more forging things. She wrapped her arms around herself, watching curiously, keeping quiet so not to be a pest, though she had many questions she'd like to ask about it all. It wasn't as if she planned to take up smithing though, or whatever they call it, so she supposed there wasn't much point to her asking questions about it. She still watched what she could though, finding it rather interesting to see it all being done. She didn't respond about the cutlery being abused. It probably was, she figured. Her 'family' was pretty rough on things, and some of those had become rusty from being left wherever for who knows how long, before Brooke discovered them and rescued them by putting them in with the other stuff that needed to be fixed.

Brooke was on her way to becoming lost in thought when the elf lady spoke to her again, startling her by what she said. Brooke's eyes widened in shock. Claire.. Her mother? "She absolutely is not!" Brooke replied with surprising ferocity, before realizing how sharp her tone had been, and flinched ever-so-slightly. "Sorry.." She added quietly, dropping her gaze timidly and hoping that hadn't made her mad. "Claire is not my mother." She re-emphasized, but in a quieter tone, though still firm. She looked down, feeling quite upset that someone would have said that. "My mother was wonderful... she was good and kind, and lovely.." She added, quiet and sad, then paused before adding, "..and she died." She stared at the ground, feeling the ache of grief hit her again, after so long.

"Her name was Cassandra." She added quietly. "She.." Brooke shook her head slightly. "She wasn't anything like that-that...thaur ulunn." She frowned, slipping into elvish with the last part before suddenly remembering that the person before her surely knew exactly what she just said. She glanced up, a little alarmed and embarrassed, unsure how it might be received. "I.. I shouldn't have said that.." She hesitated, hoping that it wouldn't get back to Claire what she had called her, as it might mean trouble for Brooke. Even if it was true.


(Thaur = detestable, abhorrent, abominable
Ulunn = monster, deformed and hideous creature
)
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom

If she could have laid her ears back and tucked a tail between her legs like a dog being yelled at she would have, more from shock than actual fear, but goodness. The ferocity of the young woman at the thought her mother might actually be Claire. She blinked and then there was that little sorry and a timid dropping of her gaze, an an explanation. Quiet and painful, and stirring of some memory laying dormant lost in almost a decade of slumber in the Abad Nestad. "Bronaeth?" Her eyes went wide, could this truly be Cassandras tiny baby the woman had introduced her to so many years ago, that had turned into a shy little girl that had peaked out at her from behind her mothers skirts. It couldn't possibly be that baby could it?

Cassandra was dead? Fuin was sad to hear this this was news that had not reached her ears, after all who would tell the elf that had only barely survived being killed a friend from Bree had passed. Most of the people that knew Cassandra didn't know Fuin, nor would they go seeking her out when she returned to selling at the Bree market with such news. "Cassandra definitely was not like that thaur ulunn." Fuin whispered back knowing full well the market had ears, and a with a smile for Breonaeth, as she looked up worried. "That's a good name for Claire I dislike her immensely, had she shown up I'd have probably hit her with my hammer rather than fix anything for her." Fuin said with a chuckle "I told her I would the last time she graced my stall anyways."

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Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke felt quite bad for having 'snapped' at the elf. She never spoke like that, and it surprised even her. But.. she did get rather tired of people mistaking her for being Claire's daughter, and it was frustrating. Her mother seemed to be forgotten by most, or else they chose to ignore the fact that Claire had not been around here that long. She was about to apologize again for her outburst, when a name was spoken that stunned her. She blinked at the elf as she heard 'Bronaeth?' and stared for a few seconds in astonishment, a small smile coming to her face at that name. "Bronaeth...yes." She had no expected that at all. "N-no one has called me that in...years." She had no idea how the elf lady knew that name, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear it. She smiled a little. "Only my mother ever called me that.." She paused as she realized, "You knew her..."

Tears threatened to fill her eyes at hearing her agree that Cassandra was nothing like Claire. She definitely knew Cassandra then, there was no question about that, and that was intriguing. Brooke blinked to keep the tears back, and glanced around slightly before turning back to her. "Were you a friend of hers? She mentioned having befriended a few elves before, but I don't really know who they were." She paused, wondering what Claire might have done to the elf to bring such a threat, but it didn't actually surprise her tremendously. "I'm sorry for whatever Claire did or said..." She added softly. "Or her daughter.. Amber is just as bad as her." She sighed softly. "I'm very sorry."
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:45 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Lord of Imladris
Points: 5 208 
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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom


Fuin smiled sadly, "Yes I knew her, the last time I saw you though you were hiding behind her skirt looking up at me, like I was an orc." She shook her head, "Calling you a daughter of Claire would make me an orc but alas your mother is not here for you to hide behind or give me a thump on the head for such words. You're right though, her daughter is terrible but you don't need to apologize on her behalf, those are her deeds not yours. I had a hard time believing it honestly and you being Cassandras daughter makes far more sense to me." She said softly, she tipped her head motioning for Bronaeth to come around the table and take a seat on a small stool behind there so she could sit and they could talk quietly while Fuin continued to work.

"Feel free to sit that way we can talk quietly while I work, that way we don't have to talk loudly over things that some people should not hear." Fuin said with a smile motioning to the stool. Fuin pulled the fork out it was hotter than it needed to be but not dangerously so. She hit the tines of it back into place, and tossed it to the edge of the forge as well continuing to work on abused cutlery.

"I thought her a good friend, she was kind and spoke well in Sindarin, it sounds like she was able to teach you decently as well?" Most men of Bree can't speak it well if you'd rather we can speak in it?" She offered looking at a knife that someone had bent in half. Who would do such a thing? Claire, or Amber.

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Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke was a little surprised to hear that. She definitely did not remember ever meeting an elf, but then an lot of her memories of her earlier childhood were rather fuzzy. She smiled slightly, trying to imagine that, but it must have been a very long time ago. How old was she, she wondered. Perhaps two, maybe three, but she wasn't likely to remember anything from that age anyway, she supposed. Or not much. Most of what she did remember wasn't that nice, and the good memories of her mother were difficult to put an age to for herself. She did remember they used to go out in the forest a lot and her mother would tell her stories about her father, and about the elves and things from a long, long time ago. She would show her how to do things that her father had taught her, like making a little basket out of strips of bark off of a certain kind of tree. A couple of years ago, when her shoes finally gave out, Brooke had utilized that knowledge in weaving strips of bark into shoes. They didn't last long, but it was better than nothing, even if they did look odd.

Brooke blinked in slight surprise to see the elf motioning her to come around the table, and wondered why, until she went on to tell her she may sit. Brooke smiled slightly as she took a seat on the stool. "Thank you." It was nice to sit and rest her feet, as it had been a tiring walk from Staddle to here, then halfway back home, and to here again. She smiled to hear that her mother and the elf lady were good friends, and wished she could have heard more about her.. which reminded her, she didn't even know a name to use for her, but before she could ask, the elf lady went on to ask if she had learned Sindarin as well as her mother. "Yes," She answered with a smile. Switching to the elven language, she spoke quite fluently as she continued, "I prefer to speak in Sindarin, actually. But I don't know of anyone around here that can speak it, so I haven't been able to use it since.." She paused, frowning. "Since she died."

Glancing up again, she watched her hold up a bent knife, and took a guess she might be wondering how that happened. Brooke frowned, thinking for a moment, trying to recall what happened with that. "My dad was trying to.. fix something, but I forgot what it was.." She explained. "Whatever it was, it was stronger than the knife..." She felt a bit embarrassed about it. Her dad rarely got around to trying to fix anything, but when he did, it usually ended in failure due to either him being drunk or hungover, not knowing what he was doing, or not having the right tools, or a combination of all of the above. "Um," She hesitated, not sure how to go about asking, but to just come out and ask. "What.. what should I call you?" She asked timidly, a bit awkward since she had been speaking with her for some time now without even asking her name.. and the elf now knew her name, or at least the name her mother had given her.

(I'll use italics to indicate when she's using sindarin, and normal for westron :) )
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:45 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Lord of Imladris
Points: 5 208 
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Joined: Sat Sep 12, 2020 7:53 am
Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom


Fuin smiled "You speak Sindarin beautifully for not having anyone to practice with." She set the knife into the forge and let it start heating pulling the first fork out and set it aside on a metal tray where it could temper since she was not hardening these items, she didn't trust that they would not be overly abused and snap hurting someone in Claires house hold. "Your father shouldn't fix things, he just makes things worse, it looks like he was trying to pry something with it. He's lucky it didn't snap and hurt him." Fuin said softly. waiting for it to heat up enough that she could safely bend it back to straight.

"Forgive my rudeness, you're welcome to call me Fuin." She pulled the knife and straightened it quickly and put it with the other bits of cutlery getting up to temperature. "I am thinking once the cutlery cools down, perhaps you can help me with them? I will give you a discount on the work since I hate polishing silverware, but I will have on condition on top of you doing the work." Fuin said as she set another knife in, how they could damage so many forks and knives was beyond her. " We tell Claire that it cost almost all of the money she sent with you. I assume this is her coin. I"ll even write w receipt up for you if you like and you keep the difference." Fuin said as she fixed the second knife that was also bent though not nearly as badly as the first one finishing the cutlery off aside from the tempering and the polishing. She set the tripod legs into the forge and began the task of heating the much thicker metal so that she would be able to straighten the legs on it, starting with the less warped ones.

(Italics = Sindarin)

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@I Said What I Said

Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke smiled shyly, looking down at her lap. "Mother and I used to speak almost exclusively in Sindarin," she explained. As a child, she had spoken more with her mother than with her father, so therefore, Sindarin came a little more easily to her than Westron, though she had not had much chance to use it for these past six years, other than reading and speaking to herself. "Except when my father was around." She added. "He would get upset that he couldn't understand us." That was an understatement, of course. He used to get downright angry, and acted as though he suspected they were plotting something or other against him, though she thought that was ridiculous. But she didn't see any point in mentioning all of that.

Watching as she fixed the dinnerware, Brooke was rather impressed by how easy she made it all look. The forks and spoons and knives were quickly being returned to their original state, and they were looking as good as new. Brooke nodded slightly at the comment about her father. "Yes... he isn't very good at it," She agreed quietly. "but don't worry. He doesn't try to fix things very often." She supposed it was probably for the best that he didn't, otherwise who knows what other things would be ruined. He'd never been very good about making repairs about the house. She wondered how long that hammer had laid in the ground before Brooke found it. Possibly longer than she'd been born, if she had to guess. That would explain why the handle had broken so easily. The wood was rotten, most likely. She wondered if it could be fixed here, or if she would have to find someone who could work with wood?

The name the elf gave was a bit interesting; Brooke noted that it was a word for darkness, or something like that, and assumed it probably referred to her dark hair. "It's very nice to meet you, Fuin." She answered quietly. At the suggestion that Brooke help her, she widened her eyes slightly in surprise. "Me? But..I don't know how to do anything like that," She frowned, a little alarmed at the thought of having to assist in any way. Not that she minded helping if she could, but she feared she might ruin it somehow. She was good at messing things up, everyone said so. She couldn't seem to ever do anything right, according to everyone she knew (which wasn't many people). "I mean... I'll try to help, if I can," she added quickly, not wanting to seem like she was unwilling. "It's just.. I'm not any good at...well, anything. I wouldn't want to mess anything up." She frowned, unsure about this, and wondering what she could possibly need Brooke's help with.

The next thing Fuin said surprised her even more. She blinked in surprise, then smiled slightly, fidgeting a little with her bag. "Oh, well.. I was already planning to do that, actually." She admitted, a little shy to admit as much, but it was true. That was her primary means of saving up money, though she had to be rather careful about it, and make sure she didn't save back too much, lest Claire become suspicious. But it would make it far easier to convince her, to have a receipt. It surprised her, possibly more than anything, that someone would be willing to do that for her. But it was a nice surprise. "Thank you.. that would help, if you're sure you don't mind doing it?"
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:45 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom

Fuin gave Bronaeth a look and shook her head. "Everyone is good at something child, you just haven't found it yet. Probably because it's taking every ounce of your energy to to kill thaur ulunn. Goodness knows that's where my energy would be going."" Fuin shrugged using the sindarin that Bronaeth had used to describe Claire since Claire as a name would make it so others knew they were talking about her, where as the Sindarin would keep that safe. She stood pumping the small bellows heating the tripod a bit more. "and what I'm asking you to do is not difficult, it is just time consuming and dreadfully boring, at least to me." Fuin pulled out some more cutlery from the forge setting it beside the first fork to air cool, a process much slower than hardening but she had a feeling for this family much safer.

"And I am glad to hear that that was already your plan, I was meaning I would give you a further discount - on account of me not needing to sit and polish the cutlery. I will need to know how much money she sent you with, that way you only have to give her a few coppers back " Fuin pull the tripod out and began hammering one of the legs straightening it out. "I mean if you don't want to do the polishing you don't need to I just figured a few more coppers in your pocket wouldn't hurt you at all, and you can tell her that that's how you were able to afford getting everything fixed, you had to talk me into letting you work off some of the cost" Fuin looked at the tripod leg it seemed nice and straight and put it back into the forge and picked up steel wool and an emery cloth meant for fine polishing blades.

"All you'd be doing was small circles on the cutlery first with the steel wool, and then with the cloth until they match what they looked like before I put them in the forge, as they are going to be a bit black and not nice looking once they finally cool off enough..'

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Aislin
Buckthorn Barber's shop/street

@Purrmonster of Doom

She watched and waited curiously, and eventually the reaction Henley displayed quite matched her expectations. He certainly looked like someone who would not like his money taken away. She smirked a bit, while listening to the accusations he yelled out at them. Placing hands on her hips she was about to respond something to it, but decided that it would be better to hold her tongue rather than have him chase them down the street. When the barber shook his fist at her, Aislin only tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

And tossing that letter away... would he not regret it later? Who knew what else it contained and what people might think if anyone happened to read it. But then again, she would not feel sorry if it had some consequences for him.

She did flinch a bit to the slamming of the doors, and stood watching while Brooke attempted to recover the letter from the dog who had snatched it, and now was left behind the door, poor thing.

It certainly seemed that the encounter had quite shaken the other girl up, and all she had managed to say was a quiet "sorry" before turning to walk away.

"Huh?" Aislin huffed, and then hurried after Brooke. "Brooke!" she called, running up next to the girl and falling in step with her. "Don't let his words get to you. He's just a drunk piece of grump, who apparently holds his money dear, if he has any. Though his dog is sweet..." She attempted to provide some comforting words.
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@Saruman - or not?

Brooke Willows
Wintertime
Leaving from Buckthorn Barber's shop

Brooke stopped in her tracks and looked at the other girl, upon hearing the words she had said. She was rather stunned, and not quite how to reply. Thinking upon Aislin's words, Brooke tried to understand why she wasn't shunning her. "I..thought you'd want to stay away from me." She mentioned, quietly. Her gaze stayed down at the ground, and she hugged her blanket around herself a little closer. Why wasn't Aislin walking away from her? Why was she being nice to her? Maybe they were both different from everyone else, she reasoned. Aislin had said that most people yelled at her, so Brooke supposed they had that much in common. Maybe they both had more in common, such as trying to be nice to others when they didn't deserve it.

"Um," She tried to think of what to say, feeling like she ought to say something to let her know she's grateful that she was still talking to her. "Thanks.." Brooke said at last. Shivering, she added, "Um, I have some errands to finish. I'm..supposed to get some things, so I was going to Mr Tunnely's store." She paused, then added, "It should be warm there, if you'd like to come along. He's usually nicer than most." Aislin must be as cold as Brooke, and it occurred to her that she might be able to help the other girl with a little bit of food. She looked rather hungry, but then maybe Brooke was imagining it due to her being in such falling-apart clothing. Brooke offered a small smile before continuing on to the store where she could get some things, glancing back to see if Aislin was following. She was already going over a list in her head of what sort of things she might be able to get with the money Claire had given her while still saving out enough to have a little extra coin, without Claire knowing any different...


The inside of Mr Tunnely's store was indeed nice and warm, or at least as warm as it could be, heated by a clay chimenea in the back of the store. Brooke was glad for the warmth inside the shop as she walked past some dry goods, stepping around a small portable step-stool and stopped in front of the chimenea, near the counter. There was a few steps up to a platform on which the counter sat, so that hobbit customers(or children of human customers) could step up there and be at the right height to see over the counter, while the non-hobbit customers could see over the counter from the actual floor.


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Walto Tunnely - Inside Tunnelly's General Goods Store

Past all the shelves lined with merchandise, Mr Tunnely stood on a step-ladder behind the counter, arranging jars of preserves on a shelf, as high as he could reach. The hobbit store-owner turned to see who had come into his store, and smiled in a warm greeting. "Hello there! C'mon in an' warm up. It sure is cold out there, ain't it?" He climbed down from his ladder, standing behind his counter which was on a platform, making him appear taller. "What can I get for you?"

"Oh, um.." Brooke glanced around the shelves near her, reluctant to move away from the heat source. It occurred to her that she had not actually looked to see how much she had to work with. Pulling out the coins from her pocket, she spread them out in her palm to count them and determine how much she had. After she'd counted her funds, she took a moment to do a bit of adding in her head, remembering the prices of various things she'd bought before and mentally adding up what all she could buy, then told the hobbit her short list of groceries that she wanted. It was quite nice to stay by the nice warm fire while he gathered the things from the various locations in the store.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:32 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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@I Said What I Said

Brooke Willows
Tingdain Stall

Sometime in Autumn
(Set a few months before the events in the Rp with Aislin and Henley)


Brooke looked down shyly, shaking her head slightly. It was more accurate to say it took all her energy to just keep herself alive. She had no desire to kill anyone, not even her horrible stepmother, though she certainly had had opportunities where she could have. She was pretty sure she couldn't kill anyone even to save her life, and didn't really want to think about such things. "I guess I am good at something," she admitted softly after a moment's thought. "Reading." She was sure that was the only thing in the world she was good at. Often, it seemed she was better at reading than even at breathing.

But it was nice to hear that the task wouldn't be difficult, and listened curiously as Fuin explained what it was. "Oh," She thought for a moment, then nodded. "I guess that shouldn't be too hard.. maybe I can do that? I'll try, anyway." She smiled faintly, though still worried, she might mess it up after all. Especially if it would leave her with more money left to buy a book. She loved her books, they had belonged to her mother, but she was quite eager to acquire a new one and have all new things to read. "How long until it's cool enough?" She wondered, having a suspicion they were definitely not, since they'd come out of the forge not long ago.
Last edited by Rillewen on Thu Mar 07, 2024 11:45 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

High Lord of Imladris
Points: 5 208 
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Joined: Sat Sep 12, 2020 7:53 am
Fuin Elda
Tingdain Stall
With Brooke Willow
@Purrmonster of Doom

"Reading is good. You can learn a lot of things well enough to start trying them if you read about them" Fuin said with a smile, of course when she said that she guessed she should be able to do the buffing and polishing Fuin nodded, it was pretty hard to mess up polishing cutlery but she was sure if someone really wanted to try they could. "It'll be a little while yet, they've got to cool down enough to the touch that you won't need gloves to hold them. Don't worry. I will let you know when they are getting close to that temperature."

She stood working the bellow waiting for the tripods second slightly damaged leg to get hot enough that she'd be able to move it and straighten it properly It didn't take too long, mostly because there was still a bit of residual heat from fixing the first leg. She quickly hammered the second leg straight and pulled the final bits of cutlery out of the forge so that they could start cooling as well beside the rest of them.

Soon enough even the third leg which had been badly bent was straightened and she tested to make sure that the legs were all even length before she plunged the orange hot legs into the quench bucket sending up an angry hiss of steam as they cooled quickly. The tripod needed no extra steps to it to harden or temper it it just needed to be cool. She pulled it out from the quench and set it aside it was still hot and steaming quickly drying itself off but unlike the cutlery which was still far too hot to touch it would be able to be touched and held in the next few minutes because of the quench. Sadly tempering the cutlery excluded her from being able to quench them at all.

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Aislin
Tunnelly's General Goods Store

@Purrmonster of Doom

"Eh, it's not like you've done something wrong. As far as I'm concerned," Aislin had merely responded to Brooke's wonderings. She had just met the other girl, but it surely looked like she was not a spoiled brat or anything of the sort.

At the mention of the store, Aislin decided to follow along. Some warmth certainly would be nice, as she expected to spend the remaining day and night outdoors, perhaps settling down in some wooded corner and setting up a camp - it sounded like a better option than sitting on someone's cold doorstep. At any rate she still had a few treasured possessions, a fire starting kit being one of them.

She followed Brooke into the store, and breathed a sigh of relief at the warm that met her, and at a friendly welcome from the owner. It seemed like the Hobbits were much more gentle than humans. She smiled shyly and edged closer to the heat source and away from the door to allow other customers entry, should there be any.

She mostly focused on warming herself and did not observe the items displayed on the shelves too much, knowing full well that she could not afford any. Occasionally Aislin observed the store-owner's and Brooke's interactions, enjoying the fact that there was some friendly atmosphere for once.
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