Minas Tirith Marketplace

Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One White Tree.
High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Pele with Nell @Isolde Alarion
Nell's Breads and Pastries


"Well, I must have come here for something delicious and for some company at first, totally did not intend to sleep," Pele admitted with a small smile, "So what is there to resist?" While Nell was busy with providing cake and coffee, and plates, Pele wondered if she should tease her cousin by sticking her fingers in the cake before plates could be set up, yet she managed not to do so.

Lifting the cup in both hands, the Ranger breathed in the aromatic scent. "I am not sure if you can really trust my discretion in terms of coffee," she chuckled taking a tiny sip cautiously to avoid burning her tongue. "I don't think I can detect the difference between various kinds easily; it is all just coffee to me, unless it is made from acorns or something that would give it a totally different taste." She took another sip, savouring the taste. "Mmm. Seems rather all right to me," she declared.

Yet it seemed that the cake was calling her name rather loudly, so Pele set down the cup to enjoy a bite of the delicious cake. Munching on it gave her a moment to collect her thoughts further. "What do you mean by old age, Nell," she chuckled, "Mourgan has turned into a strong man, but I wouldn't call him old just yet." She popped another morsel of cake into her mouth and took her time to enjoy it.

"Rangers are doing all right, all things considering. Though there are certain difficulties and some such. Also I don't think we will run out work any time soon either way," she provided a general description. "Though probably you had in mind certain details by asking about Rangers? What is it that you would want to know?"
Image

Chief Counsellor of Gondor
Points: 2 909 
Posts: 1281
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:37 am
Narradir Korsey and Addhor Raxëlilta
Wood Work, Carpentry
with Beren Camlost (@Tharmáras) and Anardil 'Warder' Thavron


It was nothing out of the ordinary to observe the forester alongside a wagon of timber. The fact that the wood though, was lebethron, gave the Carpenter cause to slow down, whereas others might not have noticed.

You’ve got some bread on you,Narradir met him with an observation of his own. The larger man had served his time well enough with the Rangers. He had learnt the art of seeing what others would miss, although he was far less confused by what he had just noted.

Bakery needs new shelves.Addhor brushed off the crumbs that he had not thought to check for, after holding the basket of pastries. “I spoke to the assistant there, AndarionAddhor too had trained and spent over seven years with the Rangers. He knew when to say as little as was needed. None of what he disclosed was untrue, but much was still left unsaid. And his friend, who’d known him since they both were four years old, could not know what went through the other man’s mind, when he joined him, and lost his tongue a while, at the wagon.

Camlost is here,Narradir confirmed, throwing out bait for explanations. “You were expecting him ?

Addhor had not known quite what to expect. Beren had sent him a letter, well in a manner of speaking. A letter was a means of communication. What Camlost had posted had been simply words on paper. He had spoke of struggling, and being troubled, but that in itself provided more questions than answers. The last time he had seen his friend, Beren had possessed the prospects of all he could ever have wanted. But he also wanted to talk. No, that wasn’t quite right. ‘Needed’ was the term he had used, repeatedly. He ‘needed’ to talk.

Addhor could only assume that picking up fatherhood with an estranged son had been more difficult for Beren than picking up women. The Carpenter could not boast having had much hand in his own son’s life, until Unalmis was nearly fourteen, and the unexpected how-it-happened was hardly a recommendation for others to consider. Thank the stars his own mother had been on hand to help them both out for as long as she had. If Camlost had come here wanting advice about relating to Mourgan, his old friend was not sure he was qualified. He had never even met Mourgan. If it was something else, .. he was even less sure that he could provide much insight. There was clearly no problem with their business arrangement though. The supplies in the wagon seemed hardy and healthy enough.


He said he would find us in the inn” he recalled, troubled, and herding Narradir’s watchful eye down a different avenue from that which the tall man was finding such enjoyment in. “I guess he came to find out which one ..

Looked to me like he had tried them all out already this afternoon,” the forester admitted, and mimed drinking, before he sat heavily upon the wagon’s lip.

Well, we’d better see him sober, before Anardil arrives,Addhor sighed, expecting his kinsman to arrive in town as well. “They have a meeting.

He’s already here. As well. I was bringing up the harvest to the guildhouse, and I found yon knight there. We brought back some sample pieces, some smaller bits for the day to day, and found .. well, he took Bear inside.

The two men practiced their previous vocation by spying through the window. “Tempting to leave the two of them to it. Give him half an hour, that lad will sober anyone up,Narradir laughed, overly loud to ruin his whisper, and both men recoiled from their watchpoint, as though expecting to be caught in the act, which they were.


He would have his work cut out, if you are honestly all planning a drinking contest,” The man from Dol Amroth suddenly called them out to the door with disapproval. Though both the former Rangers stalled from rushing on inside. To their own place of employ. Like two boys facing their headmaster’s office.

Come on, you need to take a look at these numbers, and I to see what wood you have brought over that will suit,Addhor, resigned, elbowed the forester, who faked a far crueller jab than that which reached him.

Drinks all round then ?Narradir supposed, before the smile fell from his long face. So far Warder had poured a seated Beren seven glasses of water, none of which looked to have been partaken of, and the squire was engaged about pouring an eighth now, for good measure. The two later arrivals took the seats which had been clearly assigned them, while the youngest man there presumed to manage some kind of professionalism. This was supposed to be a business meeting, after all.


Mister CamlostWarder checked for Beren’s attention. “How are you feeling now ?

Addhor took an extra moment to make sure he’d brushed off all suggestion of crumbs from his sleeve, before accepting one of the glasses of water, pointedly. Warder smiled, approvingly, even as Narradir leaned back on his chair, already bored.
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.

Esquire of The Mark
Points: 373 
Posts: 256
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:40 am
Thavron of Morthond
Wood Works:
Minas Tirith Marketplace

He had been in Minas Tirith for some time now, spending what coin he had at the inns on ale and gambling and hearty food. He wandered the city streets and took in the sights each day. He had even passed through the gates more than once to wander through the fields of Pelennor. The city was breathtaking, as were the lands that surrounded it. It was a far cry from Morthond was where he had been born and raised. The Blackroot Vale had its own charm, and Lord Duinhir was fair lord by all counts, but just like many of his peers, Thavron dreamed of what life must be like in one of the great cities.

He has mulled over where to go, as he knew his parents would not give him their blessing to leave if he had no plans. There was Pelargir, the great port of Gondor, with its ships sailing to and fro carrying goods to trade all over the kingdom. He didn't quite fancy the life of a sailor, but surely in a city that size there would be other work to find. There was also Dol Amroth, ruled by the noble house of the same name. He had cousins living there, though he had not seen them for nearly a decade since he was last in the city. He would have a place to stay at the very least, which made it the most sound place to go, yet it didn't feel right somehow. Calembel and Linhir weren't large enough to make the Blackroot Vale seem small, so Minas Tirith seemed to him to be the best option, though admittedly the one that would be the most frowned upon by his parents.

He had spent nearly two weeks formulating a plan, laying out his exact intentions on where he would go, where he would stay, what job he intended to find, and so on. And much to his surprise, his father had been wholly supportive, going so far as to give him a small pouch of coins and a horse to boot. Though, he did tell Thavron that the horse was merely a loan and that he fully intended to come to Minas Tirith and take her back at some point. His mother was...understandably upset. She had asked him not to go, and when he refused asked that he reconsider going to Dol Amroth. She assured him that his aunt and uncle would be more than happy to take him in, but his mind was made up.

He had fully intended to follow through with his plans, but the moment he set foot in the great city of Gondor, he found himself lost in the splendor and bustle of it all. Before he knew it he was drinking the day away, gambling for small amounts of coin, winning as much as he lost. He would sometimes wrestle with other lads his age, who had yet to take an apprenticeship or join the army. At other times he would wander the marketplace and partake of the fresh fruit and baked products. But after nearly a month, his funds were running dry. They likely would have been gone after a week had he not gambled the way he had. But as it was, he was short of coin and far overdue to find work.

He had told his parents that he intended to become a stonemason, but even at the time, he knew that he was lying. Masonry held no interest for him, but it was a steady field of work and one that was respectable. Yet, all the same, he knew he would not pursue it. He had passed through the marketplace more than once and saw a shop called Wood Works, a place for carpenters, but had never gone in. He had asked a nearby shop about it and was told to inquire for a man named Addhor. And today he felt that it merited a visit, at the very least one time.

He entered through their open doors and found himself in a crowded workshop, sawdust everywhere, and thick air that caught him off guard. People were milling about inside, and he wasn't sure who to even speak to. He stood awkwardly at the doorway, trying to stay out of everyone's way and find the man called Addhor, though he only had the vaguest idea of what he looked like.

OOC: @Ercassie, I'm in no rush to start trying to had Thavron become an apprentice carpenter at Wood Works, so please do not feel you need to respond anytime soon to him. :smile:

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am


Berrik and "Dina"

He felt like he was pushing it, mentally chastising himself for not just taking the broom and doing as she said. If nothing else he might get a few apples or rolls to keep them going. When she put the broom on the ground and crossed her arms to give her "dare", his stomach fell, forcing him to swallow hard. He could feel Dina moving in closer. He felt her brush against his leg and froze, his eyes widening with surprise. She never touched him. Mouth gaping, he looked down at her, his arms uncrossing.

"Dina?" He asked, his voice choking. Still she did not look up at him, her eyes locked on the mysterious woman before them. However she did raise her dirty little hand and set it into his. Tears welled in his eyes. She had never done this before. The only time she ever touched him was when she would snuggle against him in her sleep, immediately pulling away once she was awake. But unwittingly his feelings had grown fonder towards her and it was all he could do to not blubber his answer out to the woman who would have no idea of why he suddenly changed his mind.

"Anything? A warm place to sleep for tonight and uuuh some bread?" He didn't want to push it too far by asking for a whole meal, especially not a hot one as he knew they were more expensive. He was likely already pushing it by asking for two things when she had stipulated one. But he couldn't help himself, they were cold and hungry.

Child of Gondor
Points: 771 
Posts: 420
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 3:35 am
Nells Breads & Pastries
Nell w/ Pele

Nell watched with interest as Pele tried the coffee. She too lifted her cup to her lips and carefully took a sip. It was a hearty blend and she liked it but didn’t think it could replace a nice cup of tea.
Peles response to her thoughts on Mourgan caused her brows to slightly rise in agreeable as she nodded lightly. It was true. Mourgan was a man now and she often made the mistake of simply seeing him as her young son, her little boy. “ You’re right Pele, he is a young man now...full grown. I suppose I must stop thinking of him as a boy.” The memory of finding him in that pub and the insuing fight he put up towards her brothers caused her to pause mid chew on her cake. “ I suppose I need to see him through different eyes. He’s changed much in the last five years. No longer the langy teen determined to prove himself or the young man fallen hard for his first love. He’s seen battle.. both with Gondors enemies and the battle within his own heart and mind” She wasn’t sure how much Pele really knew about Mourgan and the last year or so. “He did not deal well with the horrible breakup with that young girl. He nearly drank away his inheritance. Signing away bits of his farm for a drink or room for the night .. or worse. “ Here she needed to take a sip of the coffee to gather her thoughts. “Fortunately my brothers have recovered much of those deeds and promissory notes. I told them I didn’t wish to know by what means they get them back, just get them back.” She offered a small guilty smile. “ But I simply asked about the Rangers because it’s good for him to stay busy..makes him get out amongst people again...I swear at times he’s in danger of becoming a hermit on that farm of his.” She chuckled then stabbed a piece of cake into her mouth.
Isolde Alarion/Rohan~Nelladel Alarion/Gondor~Mourgan Alarion/Gondor ~ Dahak/ Umbar ~ Relic RIP

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Pele with Nell @Isolde Alarion
Nell's Breads and Pastries


"Not bad I think... this coffee," Pele said after a few more sips. "Though after the sweetness of honey cake it seems rather bitter. Though then again, an interesting mix of tastes." It felt good not to have to hurry anywhere, and not to have people come and bother her with all sorts of requests - sometimes that would happen even when she was off duty.

"I suppose it is the mother's heart to always see their children as children, no matter how old they are, no?" the Ranger asked, as her blue eyes smiled at Nell over the rim of the cup. "Though only faint rumours have reached me about Mourgan's difficulties with drinking and such. And I must agree that he has become more quiet and reserved." While she had observed this, Pele had not had the opportunity to follow up and investigate the reasons behind it.

"Is there anything I should particularly be aware of in relation to him?" she then asked. "Also perhaps I could make sure there are some means of having him among people that would be a good influence? A chat? A training session?"
Image

Child of Gondor
Points: 771 
Posts: 420
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 3:35 am
Nell w/ Pele @Pele Alarion
Nell's Breads & Pastries


She washed the cake down with another sip of the coffee as she listened to Pele. When she asked if there was anything in particular to be aware of Nell paused before taking another drink. Being a healer perhaps Pele would have a greater knowledge of addictive substances. Maybe she could advise her on what Mangus told her he found when he found Mourgan in the Inn.
She set her cup down and rest her elbows on the table, her hands clasp together. "After they found Mourgan and we brought him home he was very combative and I didn't understand why. Why did he hate us so? He fought Mangus and Kelter and sometimes at the same time. We had to lock him in his room for his own good till the substance ran it's course. He tore through the place looking for it but Mangus had taken it when he wasn't looking." She reached into her apron pocket and somewhat hesitantly sat it on the table between them. A small glass vile, clear in color with a clear liquid inside it. It seemed a little thinner then honey.
"I'm not sure what to make of it Pele, I just know he nearly tore the house down looking for it. " She shook her head in dismay. "Someone taught him how to make it and now I'm afraid he'll keep using it. He says it's for pain but I think there is more to it. Have you seen this before? "
Isolde Alarion/Rohan~Nelladel Alarion/Gondor~Mourgan Alarion/Gondor ~ Dahak/ Umbar ~ Relic RIP

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Pele with Nell @Isolde Alarion
Nell's Breads and Pastries


Pele sipped coffee, rather enjoying the taste, as she watched Nell over the rim of the cup. While at first it sounded as if Mourgan had dealt with the losses and recovered, she could see that Nell was still concerned and that there may be more to it.

When Nell produced a small vial, Pele frowned at the sight of it. She placed her half-emptied cup on the table and reached out for the suspicious substance. "Apparently it must have been very precious to him," she noted, opening the vial with great care to sniff at it. However, the liquid did not appear to have any particular odour.

"For pain... For mental and emotional pain, I would not doubt," Pele said, as she made sure to seal the vial again. "Do you suspect that he is still using it? If so, it might be a sign of both a habit caused by this thing and that he still struggles with the past events. Have you noticed anything unusual about his behaviour lately, except for being more quiet?"

She wondered whether it would be possible for her to corner Mourgan and check on his wellbeing; technically she could order him to appear for a medical check-up. Now, the other thing would be to get him to talk and see what was going on behind the outward appearance of things being fine. Then again, did she have the right to chase him so? After all, she did have struggles of her own, though she had not turned to any addictive substances. She still seemed to walk around in a constant state of exhaustion, as she found it hard to have wholesome sleep, and while knowing of some stuff that could help her with it, she steered clear of any such things afraid of becoming dependent on it.

"Could I keep this?" she finally asked. "I am not too sure of what it is, so might do some investigation. I'm afraid that it might turn out to be deadly in certain doses or when combined with alcohol or some other substance."
Image

Child of Gondor
Points: 771 
Posts: 420
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 3:35 am
Nell with @Pele Alarion
Nell's Breads and Pastries


"I've no doubt either, to sooth the mind more so the body." She commented as she willingly handed the small vial over. When asked if she thought he was still using it she reluctantly nodded. "I'm afraid so. Although quiet he seems to be on edge more.. uneasy and quick to temper. We both know that's not our Mourgan. He's always been easy going and friendly. "

She could tell the mixture intrigued Pele as it did her but she had the medical background to possibly get to the bottom of what exactly it was and how to help Mourgan glip the grip it had on him. She started to raise her cup to drink but nodded her answer instead. Deadly??! That caused her cup to hang in the air mid sip. "Deadly you say?! I've seen him pour a few drops into a flask he carries. I believe there is some kind of whiskey in it. He carries it with him."

A thought was forming in her mind. "Pele...do you think it wise if I should try to get that flask away from him?" She wasn't sure how he would react but something had to be done she felt. She was sure his reaction would be bad but she wasn't sure how bad.
Isolde Alarion/Rohan~Nelladel Alarion/Gondor~Mourgan Alarion/Gondor ~ Dahak/ Umbar ~ Relic RIP

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth
The streets

Falaneth did not lead an exciting life. She went to work at the library and came home and repeated this routine day after day. Since meeting that stranger in the library, things had been off kilter to say the least. Many nights had been spent sleepless but in between dreams of the dead, haunted by images of Tandarion, she had put scrambled thoughts together and come to a conclusion about the man’s identity. First thing that morning, she’d gone back to the Black Raven Inn searching for answers and found none. Now she was consumed with a need to find the stranger and confirm her suspicions.

Falaneth kept her eye out for the man everywhere she went; from the Third Circle to the library and the market though she couldn’t quite let herself believe life would send her a serendipitous meeting with the one person she sought. No one was that lucky, certainly not her. After her fruitless searching, she was already exhausted and still had errands to do. Her face was pale and drawn and her dark hair usually bound so neat was pulled into a loose and fraying knot. She wandered the market, looking everywhere and nowhere at once, waiting for the man’s face to jump out at her. It didn’t.

The grocer’s
When she reached the shop, she was still so distracted she nearly stumbled into the grocer’s son and a young lady (Gellir & Vipsania). “Pardon me,” she murmured an apology.

She was not quite ready to face the loquacious grocer and would have preferred to stay home altogether, but the food in her pantry was growing sparse so here she was. The young woman stepped inside only to find the space dominated by a very tall man indeed (Ystr). Between him and Liriel and the myriad of food on display, the shop felt uncomfortably full.

The grocer’s belly seemed bigger and bigger every time Falaneth came in. When she gave Liriel a polite nod in greeting, she felt a small sting of envy and had a fleeting thought - that could have been her future. But she’d thrown away her chance for a happy marriage, one like Liriel and her husband’s. At least that was Falaneth’s impression of them based on the grocer’s demeanor and their number of children.

She turned away and stared blankly at the abundance of vegetables, ripe, colourful and enticing, and grains full of potential just waiting to be made into something more. If she had more than one person to shop for, she might feel more interested in it all. Cooking was not one of her favourite tasks so she always had a trusted list of what to buy. Falaneth reached into her pockets but they were empty aside from her coin purse. She fumbled through her bag then searched her pockets again, a bit more frantically this time. Her blue eyes widened as her hands came up empty.

“I’ve forgotten my list…” She moaned, feeling a fool for coming all this way without it. It was one disruption too many to her quiet humdrum life to consider deviating from her carefully planned meals.

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Pele with Nell @Isolde Alarion
Nell's Breads and Pastries


"Well, if you have seen him use it, there's no doubt, but I am not sure whether those changes in his behaviour are due to this thing, or due to emotional distress because of the past events, or maybe a combination of both," Pele said thoughtfully. It seemed to her that what Mourgan had gone through would leave a major impact on him, and the use of addictive substances could only make it worse. After all, even though Pele did not use anything but calming teas herself, the experiences alone had made her lose some of her light-hearted sense of humour, and she knew she was being much harder and demanding both on herself and other, and more irritable. It was difficult to admit, and very hard to figure out what to do about it. How was she to help someone else when she could not even sort out her own life at this point?

Pele slipped the vial into her pocket without taking another look at it, lest Mourgan come in and find it in her possession. "I will have this investigated, I'm sure someone at the Houses of Healing would figure out the contents, and explain the effects of it. I cannot be sure if it is deadly, but it might... at any rate it looks to be rather potent," she explained, though it probably did nothing to soothe Nell's concern.

"I am not sure about the flask though.." she said hesitantly, finishing off her piece of cake. "It might throw him in a rage; and then again it would do nothing to help if he has easy access to whatever is in that vial. He'd just get another dose. It would be best to deal with the root issues, but... the question is how."

She sighed and added: "I wonder how it affects the decisions he makes... might be important in certain life and death situations when on a mission for the Rangers." And yet again, how could he judge him, when her own decisions might be very much affected by her condition?
Image

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Liriel

There were so many ways she could have tortured and teased the large man, however her hopes of a little fun were quickly dashed as another customer entered. She recognised the woman, knowing enough about her that she would not be one to appreciate joining in on embarassing a giant, so she behaved. Boisterous as she was, she still had a business to run and it would not do to lose customers, especially not given the current circumstances where each one could mean they did not get thrown from their house and home.

Giving Ystr a smirk, she headed over to grab a cloth bag so that she could fill the young lady's order for her while she was at the bakery. Placing several choice potatoes in the bag, Liriel's attention returned to the woman seeing her frantic movements as if she was desperately searching for something. One hand holding the cloth bag and the other on her massive belly, she stepped over with concern written on her usually smiling face.

"Hey, you ok there? Can I help?"

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth
The grocer’s

Oh no... Now she’d gone and grabbed the grocer’s attention and of all the things to say, the woman was asking if she was okay? Falaneth knew she meant well and the question was aimed at this specific moment, not her life in general, but she was feeling rather less than okay lately...

Though it had been months, Falaneth still feared everyone in the city knew about the poor scholar who supposedly took his own life and the girl who was responsible for it because she broke his tender heart. She tried to avoid their accusing glances and looks of pity and retreated further and further away from others and deeper into herself and her books, looking for solace in quiet spaces. Visiting the grocer was unfortunately a non-negotiable necessity and she had always done her best to get in and out with as little talking as possible.

“I…” she stammered, not quite meeting Liriel’s eyes. “I’m fine,” she lied. “I forgot my list is all.” She attempted a nonchalant tone, as if this were not such a problem. A supposedly intelligent grown woman ought to be able to buy food without relying on a list.

Seeking a distraction, she launched upon the first thing she saw: pumpkins! “Uh...but maybe a pumpkin would be good, or some squash. I think there’s a lot you can do with them, isn’t there? Are they ripe?” she asked, struggling to find a reasonable topic of conversation about a vegetable and feeling rather a lot like one herself.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Liriel

Loud and boisterous as Liriel was, she was not a gossip. While it was impossible not to overhear people talking as they shopped in the Marketplace, Liriel was not known for joining in. What she learned she learned from listening to others. So of course she had heard the gossip and the rumours about Falaneth. And of course she knew the young lady's name, it had come up often enough when the young scholar had taken his own life. Broken heart apparently. Liriel did not quite pity the woman, but she definitely sympathised with her. She knew it could not have been easy getting past that, especially not in a city that would keep it alive for as long as it already had. That Falaneth had not fled the city spoke of a strong will in Liriel's opinion and she could only admire that.

It was however hard not to give her a look when she began babbling about the pumpkins. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to ivite the young woman home for dinner, though she knew Falaneth would never agree. And honestly she could not blame her, she did have five boys, with four of them being just as loud and boisterous as her. As if knowing he was being thought of, Erland came staggering their way. At thirteen months he had only just started walking, his gait still unsteady, though full of pride as he threw himself at the safety of the legs that could keep him up. Even though those legs were Falaneth's. Like any child, he grabbed on to what was nearest, not caring for proper decorum.

Liriel had not even seen her youngest grabbing onto Falaneth's skirt, having turned and picking up a small cloth sack. She began to fill it with items that she remembered the young woman most often purchased and made sure that the ingredients would at least make for a meal tonight until Falaneth could come back with her list.

"There we go.." Liriel said as she turned back towards Falaneth, extending the bag towards her. "I think most of what you need for a nice dinner should be in there." Giving her a smile and a wink, she finally saw Erland, still pulling on the woman's skirts and babbling up at the woman as if he wanted her to pick him up. "Oi you! That's not proper!"

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth
The grocer's

Falaneth was still staring at the pumpkins, weighing their merit and trying to think up some recipe out of thin air when she felt a tug on her skirt. Startled, she took a step back and found she had someone attached to her.

A small child, rosy cheeks aglow and eyes alight with curiosity, was holding her dress in his little fists. He seemed to have crawled out of nowhere, though obviously he was one of Liriel’s sons. She stared down at him, wholly uncertain what to do. His mother’s back was turned and Falaneth did not want to bother her again, assuming she had gone back to helping the other customer (Ystr) again before Falaneth rudely interrupted them with her little outburst.

As an only child and now a woman on her own in the city, Falaneth had never looked after children before. Once upon a time, she may have wanted her own, but she also knew they were noisy, messy, unpredictable and demanding; in short, a lot of things she did not like very much. Would this one erupt if she dared budge a toe? He looked cheerful enough...she did not want to find out.

So here stood a young library clerk imprisoned in the grocer’s shop by a child, too fearful to disturb him and unwilling to speak up to the grocer a second time.

When Liriel offered her the bag of food, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude toward the woman. “Oh, you did not have to do that…” she mumbled and managed a thin smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Um, he’s fine…” Falaneth offered, though she stood stiffly, feeling uncomfortable with Erland reaching up for her even as she gave him a wistful glance. “He’s adorable…you must be so proud. Are you ready for another little one already? How many will this one make?” She asked, hoping she was not being rude. If her own mother was any indication, they loved talking about their children, but maybe having one to focus your attention on was different to having many, and she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never find out for herself.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Liriel

"Ready! Ha! One is never ready my dear!" Liriel let out a hearty laugh as she placed a hand on her swollen belly. "When you have children, this one being the sixth, you just roll with the punches. Take it one day at a time. Not to mention that when you think you have it all figured out, they go and change it up on you." Again she laughed as she awkwardly leaned down to grab the toddler. With a huff and a grunt she barely managed to lift the chunky boy into her arm and thankfully he did not fight her so that she did not throw out her back, again. Bracing the boy on her hip, she pinched his rosy cheeks together and made him chuckle.

"I wouldn't change it for the world though.." She suddenly said a little more quietly and a lot more sincerely, her voice clearly filled with love. As different as all five of them were, she love each one of them more than she thought possible, amazed her heart could contain that much. And now she would have to make room for another. But she was already loving the baby in her womb and was not worried there would not be enough to go around for him. As big as he seemed to be.

"By the Valar you are getting heavy.." she huffed and had to set the boy down, watching as he staggered over and began thumping one of the large pumpkins on the floor with the flat of his hand. "Seems he likes pumpkin too.." she said with a small smirk on her lips as she looked over at Falaneth.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth
The grocer's

“Oh, of course,” she replied quietly as if she understood. Roll with the punches? Falaneth was probably better off on her own in that case. She could not imagine the energy it must take to look after so many children. All the same, Liriel’s home must be so full of the laughter and love the woman expressed so openly she practically glowed.

Falaneth watched the little display of affection between mother and son and then looked down at the floor, focusing intently on the grooves in the stone while feeling a little pinch in her chest at the sight of them. A terrible wave of loneliness washed over her and she feared she was weary enough that she might do the unthinkable and let it show. It was time to leave before that happened.

She stepped forward to pay and head out, but was distracted by the little boy crawling on the floor and entertaining himself with the bountiful pumpkins. “They are eye-catching,” she offered, meeting Liriel’s smile with a tiny one of her own. “I’d buy one, but I think it will be too much just for me.” She spoke with as much self-assurance as she could muster; after all, she’d grown used to being alone and did not want anyone to feel sorry for her.

“Thank you for putting this together.” She gestured with the bag of food. “I’ll be back with my list tomorrow. I don’t know what I was thinking, forgetting it like that...”

Shaking her head at herself, she rummaged in her coin purse and drew out just enough to pay for the food and handed it to Liriel. Or so she thought. In her exhaustion, Falaneth did not realise she had handed over coins worth far more than what she owed. It seemed she had not done a good job of separating her usual honest pay from what she earned on her moonlit rendezvous dropping off “borrowed” books, which was far more than a modest library clerk’s wage.

With her errand complete, Falaneth turned to leave, unaware of her mistake and any potential suspicion or questions it might cast her way.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Liriel
The Grocers


Liriel's eyes widened just a fraction as she saw Falaneth respond to her quip with a slightest of smiles. While she was not one to feel pity, she was empathic and her heart went out to the younger woman. She could not even begin to imagine what it would be like to be all alone, all the time. Heck half the time she could not even go to the outhouse alone! She was sure the quiet alone would do her in, no matter how much she would wish for peace and quiet when the boys were especially loud. No, she would never want that for herself and she was sad that not all had someone to go home to, someone to hold when times were rough, someone to snuggle up to when it got cold. But she still had hopes that the young woman's heart would mend and that she would find that special someone someday.

Looking away from Falaneth as the young woman thanked her, she looked at her curly haired toddler and wiped a lock of his hair from his face, having staggered over and now clawing at her skirt obviously nearing dinner time. She could see he was only moments away from letting the whole store know about his hunger, so she was slightly distracted when she took the coins from Falaneth.

The young woman was almost at the door when Liriel had finally picked the fussing toddler up, intending to head over and sit down so she could feed him, when she opened her hand and saw just how much Falaneth had given her. "Oi! Hold it right there young lady!" She called out to the retreating woman. Ignoring her sons protests that were getting more insistant, she followed after Falaneth.

Extending her hand, she held out the coins, minus what was owed and gave it back to the young woman. "I am not that expensive.." She said with a wink. Giving a parting smile, she headed over in the direction of where the large man seemed to be trying to hide away and made sure to sit herself on a crate so he could see as she made to feed the now squalling toddler.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth
The grocers


Falaneth was halfway to the door when all of a sudden, Liriel’s voice rang out over her baby’s fussing. “Oi! Hold it right there young lady!” She froze. Her shoulders stiffened and the pace of her heart pattered quickly in her chest as a rising panic enveloped her. Did the grocer know something? How could she? She must know everyone in the city--had she heard a rumour of missing or stolen books or a stranger bribing a young library clerk?

If anyone found out what she’d done, she’d be sacked without a second chance. Her job kept her going. Without it, she’d have nothing left. She turned back slowly, feeling like she was wading through water, and tried to prepare herself. When Liriel pressed the coins into her hand, she felt as if she watched the scene from somewhere else outside herself. She had not been found out afterall--it was only a case of mispayment.

Falaneth swallowed her fear and could not find her voice. She simply nodded her appreciation at Liriel and clutched the coins in her fist. The wariness she had felt at entering the shop and having to endure Liriel’s vivacious energy was replaced with quiet gratitude. Perhaps the woman was not so bad afterall, and indeed, had never been anything but kind. Tucking the money back in its place, she left the shop and paused in the street outside.

The streets
Falaneth’s thoughts returned to her ceaseless hunt. Blue eyes scanned the streets again, searching for the man who was the source of the coins. She was on constant alert for him as she set off at a brisk pace. So intent was she on her task, and so exhausted from lack of sleep, that she misstepped on a divet in the ground that she probably passed a thousand times before without issue. Not this time.

Losing her footing, Falaneth tripped. The world came out from under her and she went sprawling to the ground face-first. Instinctively, she flung her arms out to catch herself and released an undignified “oof!”

The bag of groceries Liriel had so kindly and carefully packed went spilling across the ground. Falaneth immediately felt her palms sting as they scraped against the rough ground. Her wrist pulsed with pain as it bore the weight of her fall. Crawling to her knees, she ignored the pain and looked at the food in horror. If it got trampled and smashed, she’d have to go back for more and explain her second foolish mistake of the day. Now, more than anything, she desperately wanted to go home, hide away from the world and never come out.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
The Streets

Wamgrim had only been in the city a few hours and already he was missing home. This open-air city design was just not working for him. He wanted to look up and see a great canopy of stone, not swirling clouds. Humans were just so mundane. They had a wonderful mountain here, Mount Mindolluin, but for some reason they refused to delve into the mountain and rather scurried about the surface like a horde of squirrels. Human boggled the mind. Perhaps the stone was too difficult for them to carve? Then why not ask one of the many dwarven clans within a fortnight’s ride to assist? It was hot and muggy this morning, increasing Wamgrim’s poor mood. It would not be so hot and uncomfortable down below, where the temperature was mild, and the air was clean. The sounds of the marketplace were almost the same, if he closed his eyes tight enough to trick his brain into thinking the sunlight was just lantern light. The sounds of carts clacking over unsmoothed surfaces, the sounds of merchants and hawkers, the sounds of snake oil salesmen, the sounds of children and animals, the smell of food, of wood and sawdust, of bread and beer, that was all the same. Yet, as much as he would like, there was no way he could walk through the streets of Minas Tirith blindfolded. Large cities like this invited a certain kind of element, a blindfolded dwarf would draw that element like moths to a flame. The metaphor was apt, he thought with a cruel smile. The black-haired dwarf shrugged and felt the war pick strapped across his back. It was a comfort to know the weapon was there, a constant companion, a friend and confidant, a sounding board, a killer.

Most of the men of Gondor ignored him, content to go about their work without giving him a second glance. In the days of his youth such a nonchalant dismissal would have incensed him and he would have forced them to pay attention to him and give him the respect he deserved. But the flames of youth had been tempered and used to properly shape and mold who he was. He was older, wiser, and more patient now. He could pass unseen and unnoticed, that ability was worth its weight in gold.

He was supposed to be meeting someone. Who, was a mystery; all he had to go on was a rough sketch of what might have been a woman, or a young man. Wamgrim wasn’t the best at differentiating between the sexes of humans. Dwarves were so much easier, between men, woman, and enbies the differences couldn’t be more obvious, but humans all looked alike. How they told each other apart enough to pair off was an enigma. The person wouldn’t know him either. It was a strange way to run a courier business, but who was he to question the upper levels of management? Elves didn’t like it when someone suggested they might not be correct about something, a dwarf least of all. Wamgrim wisely kept his mouth shut. Inefficient was inefficient. But that was not his fault. He was hungry. He reached into his pocket and nearly pulled out the venison jerky from his breast pocket. He pulled away quickly, remember exactly what it was. He was not in the mood for jerky anyway. A juicy steak with a mug of pale ale was what he wanted, with roasted onions and thick sourdough bread.

He continued down the street, looking as inconspicuously and thoroughly at the face of every woman or young person he came across. Eventually, he was going to find his target.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
The Streets

“Oh, what do you know about it?” Delioron said over his shoulder. With an arrogant shake of his head, he dismissed the concerns of his employer and flipped a fat gold coin into the air with his thumb. The coin accounted for weeks and weeks of accumulated wages, and he had brought it to the shop to show off that morning. It glinted in the afternoon sun as it spun in the air, and he caught it deftly with the same hand. With one fluid motion, it vanished into his breast pocket. “I’ll win this one, you’ll see, and then you’ll be out a worker. Won’t look back once on my way out, I won’t.” He stalked out of the shop where he had been an assistant to the head tanner for many long years. “Idiot,” he mumbled to himself. “Wouldn’t know good odds if they hit him in the face.”

Delioron was a passionate gambler: as a man of fine tastes but with little in the way of nobility or education to his name, he was prone to succumb to any number of illicit or nearly-illicit schemes to bankroll his pleasures. Today, he was fixated on a game of dice which had been arranged in the pub down the lane from the tanner’s. The purse for the winner was known to be unusually large; if Delioron won, he calculated that he could survive for years off the winnings quite easily. He had worked long and hard since he was a boy, and he thought it was about time he got the chance to put his feet up.

Both the tanner’s shop in which he worked and the pub to which he now made his way were positioned on the outskirts of the marketplace, far from its bustling and prosperous center. He shouldered his way through the crowds gathering to buy or sell various wares and services, spitting his distaste at the press of people whenever the throngs thinned enough for him to find an empty bit of stone to spit on. He was about halfway to his destination when he stopped to purchase a meat pie from a stall. Dicing was hungry work, and no one made better pies than the baker before him. He traded a copper coin for the warm food, then leaned against a wall and bit into it. A lone dribble of grease rolled down his chin; he wiped it away as he chewed. He chanced to look up in between bites and saw something highly unusual: a dwarf making his way through the marketplace. Perhaps the sight of a dwarf was a sign of good fortune to come: it was not every day one of the dwarven race made their way into Minas Tirith. Delioron wolfed down the remainder of his pie, then stood in the shade, licking greasy fingers as the dwarf drew nearer. Should he speak to it? He wondered vaguely if they spoke the same tongue. Perhaps not. Never one for subtlety, he extracted the coin out from his pocket and began to flip it into the air again, catching it each time. Maybe this would draw the dwarf near - he had always heard they lusted for gold.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
The Streets

Was that his quarry? Wamgrim felt a bit of bile surge into the back of his throat. Humans. They were just so, so ugly. Elves were as unattractive as a dead horse but at least they had grace about them that elevated them above the level of squirrels and ferrets. The dwarf wanted to ignore the man, wanted to take out his war pick and give the boy (the human was a boy right? They had stubble on their chin but every dwarven child had stubble by age five) a good education in the art of manners. Flipping about the gold coin was, well it was unwise. Of course Wamgrim was drawn to the gold, but it was not for the reason this little chump thought. All humans believed that dwarves were greedy by nature and that all their sense were geared toward finding gold. That was a gross, gross simplification of dwarven senses. It was true they had a knack for finding gold, but that was because they were naturally more predisposed to catching the light, and they were raised and trained from an early age to be able to recognize the differences in a hundred kinds of metals. Just because a few of his kin were overeager to find and steal the stuff doesn’t mean his entire race was greedy usurers and cheating bastards.

Wamgrim couldn’t tell why, he was probably jumping to conclusions based on stereotypes, but he wanted to knock this git into next week. He knew the exact way to do that too. The human boy (it was a boy, he was sure) had the lazy look of a bad gambler, the kind that didn’t know when to quit and walk away. A hint of success or whiff of good luck and they’d drown themselves in a glass of water. He laughed bitterly to himself, hells, the boy would do most of the work for him today. He took out the picture and looked at it with a discerning eye. Whether it was confirmation bias or he’d genuinely found the one needle in a stack of pins he wasn’t sure, either way, he’d do just fine. He tapped his breast pocket, subconsciously making sure his tools were still where he’d left them two minutes ago. Good. Everything was coming up well. It was time to start off his plan.

“Hello there,” he said in his most boisterous, friendly tone. He meandered and stumbled a bit, feigning drunkenness (another stereotype all humans seemed to believe about dwarves). The less suspicious the boy felt about him, the more disarmed and willing to take something from him he’d be. “You, you look like you’re a wise man. I bet... you know where all the good dice games are. I have a purse o’ gold that’s looking to get a little heavier.” He paused and blinked owlishly, through his pretense he watched the man like a hawk. “Lady Luck is on m’side too,” he raised a finger and waggled it in the boy’s face. He hid the vicious smile he wanted to show behind a veneer of glassy eyed enthusiasm. “What’d’ya say? It don’t got to be one them fancy places neither, with them uptight folx all worried about what’s good and pure and clean. I likes the dingier place m’self. The more grime, the more gold.” He winked. “Tell ye wot, if’n you show me the way. I’ll let you in on my secret formula.” He leaned in and produced the venison jerky from his pocket and looked about, genuinely making sure he wasn’t being watched by any city guard. “Dis is venison jerky from one o’ the king’s lucky deer. My mate and I foun’ it and killed it last week. I ate some o’ it before playing a game o’ chess, that fancy game they play up in the fourth circle, cleaned that rich boy’s clock I did! ‘s been good luck ever since. What do you say, eh?” He waved the jerky haphazardly in front of the man.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
The Streets

Delioron could flip and catch a coin without keeping his eyes fully on it. He could juggle three small tanning knives without incident, though not without some distress on his employer’s part. He could perform simple sleights of hand that made the local children squeal with confusion and delight. He took great pride in his dexterity and missed no opportunity to show it off. And so he trained his eyes on the slowly-approaching dwarf even as he continued to send his coin spinning into the air.

The dwarf (Wamgrim), he could see, was strange. It giggled to itself and tapped its pocket (likely there’s gold in there, Delioron thought). He had expected no less. Dwarves, like all races save the men of Gondor, were strange to him. He’d lived his life in the White City and rarely, if ever, bothered to venture beyond its gates. What use was there in that? He had everything he needed here in the city - and that would be triply so if he could win that game of dice today. When the dwarf saluted him and began suddenly to stumble - was it acting? Or perhaps it couldn’t walk and talk all at once? - Delioron knew he had been right: dwarves were strange, and their ways beyond the reason or interest of the race of men.

“Good day,” Delioron replied coolly, still flipping his coin. “If it’s dice you’re after, you’ll want to inquire down the lane at The Jealous Lord.” He jerked his head in the direction of the pub toward which he himself was bound. The coin rang and glinted as it flew through the air once more. Delioron’s eyebrows rose skeptically when the dwarf made mention of Lady Luck. Who knew what idols dwarves prayed to, but Delioron knew Luck to be on the side of mankind - at least in this great city of men. Knowing that, though, it couldn’t hurt to lure the dwarf into the tavern and relieve it of its burden.

“It so happens I’m heading there myself,” he went on. “I would be most pleased to escort a visitor to our fair city into the arms of my favorite establishment.” He recoiled slightly from the proffered jerky. The stuff stank in the warm air, and he didn’t believe for a second that it was from a “king’s lucky deer.” Who knew what it was made of? Human, for all Delioron knew. He stopped his coin flipping, pocketed the gold, and waved his hand in the air to deflect the flapping bit of meat. “I’ll pass on that, thanks. Shall we?” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off toward the pub.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
The Streets

He narrowed his eyes at the young man. He had narrow them so that the raging storm in his eyes would not be so obvious. He knew the lad was a noxious upstart, a cheater at dice, and a compulsive liar (it was all written on that sketch he’d received to find him), but a bigot as well? the dwarf knew humans had backwards ideals and often mistreated and mistrusted anyone that looked even the slightest bit different from them, but the casual dismissal of his sentience was appalling. Wamgrim set his jaw tightly and clamped down, almost breaking a tooth. In the days of his youth, long lost in the fog of years, he would often become so angry his hands would shake and his speech would devolve into stutters. He was endlessly mocked for it until he learned to control it. He would never be a great orator or a surgeon, but at least he would not have to endure the taunts and jeers and capricious laughter at the hands of anyone else again. He could feel his hands begin to tremble as he placed the jerky back in his breast pocket. The young mortal, skinny as a beanpole and ugly as a horse’s ass, was going to learn that dwarves take manners very seriously. This young upstart was going to learn what it meant to dice for one’s life!

He squeezed his hands, making fists over and over again until he felt his hands began to relax. His breathing slowed from a rapid bull like snort, to a calm, measured intake and outtake. The turmoil and rage he felt must never be shown, not to some fool from the outlands. A hundred visions passed before the dwarf’s eyes, a hundred different ways to make sure this boy knew exactly what he did wrong and exactly how his mistake was going to be corrected.

Wamgrim followed the human, the ugly tuft of fur on his head he called a hairstyle was impossible to miss. A bloodhound in dwarven form, Wamgrim was not going to lose this boy, no matter how many alleyways and byways he travelled down.

He kept a jovial, drunken face, a masque to hide his true intent. Wamgrim was excellent at wearing masques. He could wear a dozen at once for a dozen different people. None of them would get to see the real him. Not before it was too late. “The Jealous Lord?” he slurred heavily, launching a stream of spittle at the back of the boy’s head. “I ain’t never heard o’ it. They go’s some mead to go with da dicing?” He slowed, stumbled, and knocked over a barrel as they rounded the alleyway.

The barrel was precisely aimed to hit the human in the back, knocking him prone. Quick as an eel, Wamgrim was on him. He unslung his war pick with the shrug of a shoulder and smashed it against his victim’s head, just hard enough to knock that ugly little rat out cold but not enough to crush his skull. No, that would be far, far too easy. This boy was going to suffer as he learned his mistakes. He was going to suffer for a very long time. The dwarf flipped him over onto his back and bound his hands in a painful knot with some hemp rope he kept under his armpit. He took a bit of rancid smelling cloth and stuffed it into the boy’s mouth, securing it with more hempen rope. He moved to the legs and tied them together with similar speed and tight cruelty. The whole affair took less than half a minute. He stood up and looked at his handiwork. He was satisfied. He aimed a savage kick to the boy’s ribcage and heard it snap in several places. He smiled and sighed. It was such a satisfying sound.

Âdhûn then bent over, picked up the boy and slung him over his shoulder. “You and I have a very important date. And we mustn’t be late.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Image
Ms. Irma

Her boots hit like hammer-falls on the cobblestones, the sharp sound reverberating off of the stone buildings around her. Each quick step was accompanied by a hissed curse, the ire dripping from her mouth like vemon.

"Blasted Melkor's luck! Damnable wench! Little Valar-faced thieving wretch! Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you!? Sauron's pits!"

As if realising she might have spoken the last one a little too loudly, Ms. Irma quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard her. Given the recent War, a lot of people were naturally a bit sensitive when it came to mentioning Sauron's name and the last thing she wanted was to cause more attention to herself. Even so, her ire only grew as if this too was Thea's fault.

"Damnable gir- AAAIIIIEEEEE!!"

Busy looking over her shoulder, Ms. Irma had missed the young lady's tumble and her grocieries flying everywhere as she suddenly lost her footing on several carrots that rolled unsteadly from under her tightfitting boots. For the second time today she ended up on the ground, although this time with a lot more yelling and swearing. Twisting her ankle, Ms. Irma fell down hard on her backside, falling backwards, the other leg flailing up into the air and once more subjecting the world to her undergarments.

When her tumble finally came to a halt there was a brief quiet, as if the world stood still. Even the birds had quieted down, the sounds of the city going still. Until Ms. Irma's shriek of horrified pain split the quiet asunder, shattering any semblance of decorum in the process.

"AAAAAHHHH!!! Help! Oh Eru! Help me! I think my foot is broken!! HELP MEEE!!!"


Malanor

He had seen it all. From years and years of trudging up and down every street in Minas Tirith, patrolling every circle day in and day out, to surviving the Great War and countless scouting missions as an eager young soldier. He had seen it all and then some. Or so he thought. Nobody could prepare for this, nobody should rightly be subjected to this. He, least of all. Gawking, face flushed and bright red, he tore his eyes away from having seen Ms. Irma's frilly
undergarments, the image now burned into his minds eye forever, much to his horror and dismay.

"HEEELP ME!!"

The shriek snapped Malanor out of it, remembering that he was a city guard and his duty was to protect and help the citizens of this city. As several people were already looking to him to step forward and help, he could not rightly slink off and steel his roiling gut with a large pint of ale. Defeated he groaned softly and stepped towards the massive woman that was floundering around on the ground like a beached walrus. He knew he was never going to succeed in getting the woman off of the ground and to the Houses of Healing on his own, desperately looking around for someone to help him. Unfortunately for him, he had already extended his hand to help Ms. Irma, not realising he should have waited even with that, as he too suddenly lost his footing as she desperately yanked on him and pulled him down on top of her.

The split second of silence that followed this time was shattered by the loudest shriek in history of mankind, followed by a surprised yelp from the helpless guard who was trying to untangle himself from the massive woman, even as she began to furiously smack him with both hands.

"GET OFF MEEE! HELP!! HELP!! HE IS ATTACKING MEEE! PERVERT! GET OFF MEEE!"

The growing crowd surrounding them guffawed like a funny play was being performed, the guard finally extracting himself from Ms. Irma's many skirts, only to fall backwards towards Falaneth.

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 580 
Posts: 2649
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
(Solo post for now)
Image

It was dangerous, coming to Minas Tirith, and she knew that well enough. Yet, what would life be without taking a few risks now and then? Besides, it gave her a thrill sometimes to push her luck. Not that she didn't take precautions, of course; she'd disguised herself as a boy, just in case she ran into that guard again. She knew he would be around here somewhere, so she just hoped to avoid him. With her vibrant red hair tucked carefully into a cap, and her sleight, lean figure, and rather short stature, she had discovered that it wasn't hard to pass herself off as a boy of around 10-12.

Strawberry had been here a couple of days, selling some of the stuff she'd picked up during her travels, restocking her supplies, but also keeping an eye out for anything worthwhile she might want to 'rehome', and thereby gain a profit. As it happened, she was leaned against the wall of a random shop, happily enjoying an apple she'd swiped while the pregnant lady grocer was helping a customer, when the chaos unfolded before her. The very same customer who had earlier so helpfully distracted the grocery lady for her, now caused an even greater distraction. Actually, it was the obnoxious fat lady who caused the most commotion, and then a guard even helped strengthen the distraction. The girl, disguised as a boy, forgot about her apple and watched in astonishment as the scene unfolded before her. Crowds gathered, laughing and staring at the chaos. Taking a glance around, Strawberry realized that suddenly, several shops were now unattended, or half-attended by their owners.

Sometimes, Strawberry stole things to survive, whether it was food, or clothing, or whatever she needed, or the money to buy those things. Other times, she stole for the thrill of it, or because she just couldn't help herself, or she was curious about an item and wanted to examine it closer, while other times, her thievery happened because she fell into an opportunity too great to pass up. This was one of those times. Glancing around, she saw that several shop owners had emerged to gawk at the scene caused by Ms Irma, the guard, and the woman who had tripped. Strawberry focused her attention on a specific shop not too far away. The jeweler had emerged, laughing heartily at the expense of Ms Irma, and never once noticed the 'young boy' who slipped into the shop behind him.

The familiar rush of adrenaline flooded through her veins. The thrill was one thing she enjoyed, of course, but she didn't waste any time savoring it. Once inside the shop, she acted swiftly. Scooping up various jewels, necklaces, rings, etc, a grin spread across her face as she stuffed her pockets, keeping one eye out the door where the jeweler stood, believing his shop to be empty and probably confident that no one could have slipped past him as he enjoyed a few moment's entertainment amid what must have been a dull day before this occurrence. Strawberry smirked as she slipped another couple of shiny jewels into her pockets, then decided she'd probably better not clean the place out entirely. She'd made sure to leave enough that he shouldn't notice immediately that he'd been robbed. That ought to give her time to get a good distance away before he called for the guards.

And, so, feeling pleased with her haul, the bold thief moved toward the door. But the jeweler had taken a couple of steps backward by now, closer to the doorway, and she frowned, finding her way slightly blocked. Thinking quickly, she arrived at a plan she hoped would work. Moving as far to the right, with her heart racing with the thought of getting caught, Strawberry eased out, then moved behind the jeweler to the left, casually muttering 'excuse me' as she brushed past the man, hoping he would believe that she was only passing by and he was in the way. There was quite a crowd in front of him, so it was believable.
"Sorry lad," The man spoke automatically, taking a step forward to allow the boy to pass, all without taking his attention away from the 'entertainment', though he did spare a quick glance back toward his shop, as if to make sure no one had somehow got past him.

By then, Strawberry was mingled into the crowd. Slipping the key to the shop from her palm into her boot, Strawberry hid a smirk as she pretended to be scratching her ankle. She would return later to get the rest, when it was more convenient to take her time. She was quite pleased with what she had gotten, and in fact, she felt almost giddy with exhilaration from successfully pulling off that little spur-of-the-moment heist, and could hardly wait to get someone where she could examine her goods more closely. For now, she paused to watch the rest of the scene.
"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."

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
The Streets

Delioron nodded to a few folk he knew as they passed him by, but he made his way toward the tavern without stopping. He thought he could hear the jingle of coins at the dwarf’s waist with each of its heavy footfalls as it followed him. That plus the promised prize for today’s round of dice would take him far. Perhaps he would even be able to hire a servant, someone to clean up after him for a change. A young girl perhaps, pliant and easily cowed. He would enjoy that in many ways. Delioron was quite glad the dwarf could not see his face; the triumphant smirk on his face would be a dead giveaway of his intent.

Bright cloth awnings over nearby shops’ entrances threw shade across his face every several yards; he had just passed under one such shadow when the dwarf spoke. Delioron turned to respond; in so doing, a flash of sunlight previously obscured by the closest awning blinded him momentarily. “Yes, of course. What do you think a tavern is, anyway?” he snapped, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the dazzling light. He turned to look back at the dwarf and his mouth dropped open. Before he could throw himself out of harm’s way, a barrel collided with his half-turned back, and he went flying into the alley in which The Jealous Lord’s back entrance could be found.

Too shocked and off-balance to catch himself as he had caught the coin so many times, his chin made contact with the stones of the street before any of the rest of him. The instant he tried to move and right himself, he realized with a jolt of pain and fear that he had left a long trail of skin and blood in his wake. He turned over, feeling panic rising in his chest. He caught just the most fleeting glimpse of the dwarf, rage carved into its every feature, before it raised a great pick. “You -” Delioron began. He wanted to spit and curse and scream that he knew it, had known it all along, that dwarves were just a roving, grubby-fingered scourge upon an earth which ought to lie firmly in the more capable, civilized hands of men. This treacherous creature was no different than its foul kin who had served as labor in the rebuilding of the city gates and filled the streets with their harsh, foreign tongues. But he was too late, and his shout of protest was no shield from the blow which fell upon him.

There was nothing once the pick fell. No pain, no anger, no greed, no fear, no lust. Nothing but a blissful, unfeeling void.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth, The Streets
With Malanor and Ms Irma


If Falaneth thought she was having a bad day, what came next was so much worse. She flinched at the woman’s shrieking, ear-splitting screams. In her modesty, she instantly averted her eyes from the ruffled petticoats, feeling a stab of pity. How embarrassing and the whole ordeal was her fault. Not to mention somewhere underneath all those frilly layers was one of her carrots, the cause of this whole ordeal. It was most likely snapped in half or pulverized to mush with all the flailing and rolling around the woman had done. Ms Irma was not a small person, after all. Not to mention the guard...

Falaneth caught him falling on top of the woman from the corner of her eye and even she could not stop watching the appalling scene play out. Everyone was staring, gawking uselessly and open-mouthed or smothering bouts of laughter (though some did not even try to hide their amusement) and here she was, caught in the middle of it all, responsible for the woman’s predicament.

Faced with this, she would have given almost anything to be back in the grocer’s shop again. She could have walked away and faded into the crowd, abandoning her groceries, and it would have been easy. Her conscience demanded otherwise. She brought herself to her feet, palms stinging as she tried to brush the grime and dirt from the stinging wounds, and ignored the poor dispersed potatoes and carrots in favour of offering help.

“I’m so sorry-” She began, too soft to be heard beneath the ascending racket of mounting, and horrifying, accusations. She stared in disbelief as the woman began to swat the hand that tried to help her! Finally, Malanor managed to right himself and when she stepped forward to help, the man promptly tumbled into her. Falaneth held out her hands to grab onto him attempting to brace both of them and hoping they were not about to end up similarly entangled. Her wrist throbbed in protest and her toes were crushed beneath his stumbling feet. The petite woman’s efforts gained her a faceful of Tower Guard uniform, far more up close and personal than she ever wanted to be to any of them.

Unbeknownst to her, Malanor was likely the least of her problems. Falaneth had lived in the city of Minas Tirith for twenty odd years. Twenty odd years of blissful and blessed unawareness of the scourge that was the infamous Ms Irma. Until today...

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Malanor

He had never been a good dancer, which lead to him avoiding it at all costs. But as bad as he was, he had never been this bad. He could feel the young woman's feet under his heavy boots and his stomach knotted painfully in empathy, knowing how much that must have hurt. In a desperate attempt to swirl out away from the poor woman's feet he lost his balance again and ended up on his backside right back between Ms. Irma's legs. That he hadn't landed on her again, was no consolation as the large woman began pelting him with slaps, the growing crowd now openly laughing even more at the commotion.

Haunching his shoulders to protect himself from the smacks, he managed to crawl away to safety, finally getting to his feet and not stepping on someone. Out of breath and face red with embarrassment he tried to take stock of the situation. Ms. Irma was still crying bloody murder, but his eyes instead went to the other woman who he had stepped on. He thought he recognised her, but her name escaped him in the heat of the moment as he carefully stepped over Ms. Irma to get to her.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his voice rising in an attempt to be heard above Ms. Irma's screams. "I am so sorry!" He exclaimed before she had a chance to reply. Worried, he looked down at the younger woman's feet as if he could see if he had crushed them or not.

"ARREST THAT WOMAAAAN! SHE BROKE MY ANKLE!"

The shrieks were ear-piercing, making everyone close pull up their shoulders in an attempt to protect their ears from the shrill assualt. "What!?" Malanor looked back at Ms Irma with incredulity at the accusation.

"SHE DID THIS TO ME! MY ANKLE IS BROKEN! AAAAIIIEEEEE!"

Jaw dropping, Malanor watched as Ms. Irma grabbed her wounded leg, seeing way too much of the undergarments again.

"Nonsense.." he managed before he was cut off by another loud shriek from Ms. Irma.

"ENOUGH!" He bellowed in frustration, the noise and the commotion finally reaching a tipping point. The large woman on the floor snapped her mouth shut, though her eyes shot daggers towards him as if he had slapped the woman.

"Enough.." he repeated a little more quietly as everyone around the quieted. "You! And You!" He said as he pointed at the burly baker and his assitant. "Get over here and help me! And you!" He said pointing to a young lad who was still laughing. "Run to the House of Healing and let them know we are bringing in Ms. Irma. NOW!" The boy jumped, finally realising the guard meant business and quickly ran off in the direction of the House of Healing while the guard stepped towards Ms Irma.

The baker and his assistant looked like they did not want to help, but a stern look from the guard got them moving and they reluctantly stepped forward and hooked their arms under the large woman. Ducking her swats, they pushed on at the insistance of Malanor, ignoring her shrieks as they were just about forced to manhandle the woman to lift her off the ground and slowly began to carry her off towards the House of Healing. Calling over the blacksmith to take over his spot, he left the three strong men to carry Ms. Irma as he headed over to the young woman to give her his assistance. "I think you need to come along as well, you have some cuts that will need to be seen to. Extending his arm towards Falaneth, he waited for her to accept before he would lead her off after the still shrieking Ms. Irma that could not be drowned out by the laughter that had bubbled up again.

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 580 
Posts: 2649
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Lailyn
Image
Strawberry

It seemed the show was mostly over now, and Strawberry watched as the guard ordered a couple of people to take the fat, loud woman off to the houses of healing, while he stayed to help the young woman pick up her groceries. Watching the shopkeepers comply with his order, Strawberry tilted her head, glancing around in surprise. That meant… two completely unattended shops? Could she hope to get so lucky?! And one of those he'd sent off to help was a blacksmith. Strawberry could almost always find things of interest in blacksmith shops, and this second opportunity was far too tempting to pass up.

Intrigued, she meandered toward the shop, keeping her stride casual so as not to draw attention to herself. She took a cautious look inside, then back around at the crowd, before slipping in, wondering if there might be anything of interest within... after all, when opportunity presents itself, it would be silly to let it pass by, right? She figured she had a few minutes at least; more if the smith lingered and took his time returning. The houses of healing were a few levels up, if she remembered right, so that ought to give her plenty of time to have a good look around, find anything worth claiming, and slip back out before anyone noticed.

The noise and chaos of the streets were a bit more muffled in here, and Strawberry relished the moment of calm and quiet. It was hot in here with the forge burning, but she didn't mind. She was interested in whatever she might find of use here. Having learned from prior experience that blacksmiths frequently made nails and sometimes wire, she was searching primarily for end bits of wire, or perhaps nails that were too thin or a little misshapen. Those worked amazingly well for picking locks, she'd learned, though they tended to break after only a few uses, so it was helpful to gather as many as she could, whenever she got the chance. Not that blacksmiths usually prized such things as sell-worthy, but it was best not to even let them know anyone might be interested in such things. They might start charging for them, or telling guards about someone buying it, who would then surely make the connection, or something like that. Weapons and armor were always a bonus too, when she could find any worth grabbing.
"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."

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth, The Streets
with Ms Irma and Malanor


Falaneth did not have much faith in the Tower Guard and avoided them whenever she could. This scene combined with Malanor’s attention was an inescapable nightmare to the young woman. Her toes still tingled with the man’s weight and she shuffled away from him, never once looking up at his face. “I’m fine,” she mumbled at his apology and jumped when the woman screamed a demand for her arrest. For causing this accident? Could they even do such a thing? If they could and did, would they find her extra earnings and grow suspicious? All sympathy she had for the injured and embarrassed woman evaporated in an instant.

She knew she should either flee the scene or do something to help but she could not seem to make her feet move. It was hardly the pain pinching her toes that stopped her, rather it was the overwhelming emotions crashing through her, waiting to unbuckle her composure. A ripple of grief at the mere sight of the guard tinged with the fear her crime would be discovered and the mortification at the whole situation caused by a single misstep was all exacerbated by her bone-deep weariness. Falaneth wrapped her arms around herself and ducked her chin, willing herself to stay calm. Looking down at the ground, she closed her eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths to slow the pace of her heart. When she heard Malanor call for aid and take charge, she noted the woman’s name, Ms Irma. The woman was certainly a handful. Perhaps Falaneth might slip away beneath his notice…

When she opened her eyes, he was standing before her. She blinked in the daylight and studied him. He might have a kind face and words to go with it but he was still a city guard unworthy of her trust and certainly not someone to walk with arm-in-arm. Her blue eyes searched him, probing for some sign to assure her of his good intentions. Nothing illuminated her one way or the other. Much as she wanted to run home, there was sense in having her injuries tended.

“I will come,” she replied cautiously to Malanor, “but first, I need to--” She gestured at the sad collection of smashed carrots and potatoes with a frown. “They were supposed to be for supper…” Without waiting for a response or the argument she expected him to make demanding that she come immediately, Falaneth knelt down and set about gathering what vegetables could be salvaged. Only when every last edible piece was back in her bag did she intend to trail after him to the Houses of Healing.

Master Torturer
Points: 2 588 
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Malanor

He knew he was not going to win this battle, despite the sorry look of the vegetables that were strewn around on the cobblestones. But this was not a battle he wanted, especially as since the war so many people were struggling to feed themselves, his heart going out to the young woman as he thought the reason for her insistance was due to lack of funds.

"Of course.." He mumbled and set to work chasing down the errant potatoes and what looked like a piece of ginger root. Gathering as much as he could in his hands, he headed over to deposit them into her bag and then stepped aside to allow her to gather herself before he would escort her to the House of Healing. He had already dispersed the crowd as he had moved about gathering the vegetables, though several people were still peering out of their windows to see if anything more would happen, the faint noise of Ms. Irma's shrieks still just audible when the wind blew them their way.

Not looking forward to having to take a statement from the irrational woman, one he had heard plenty of nasty rumours about, he was still not going to forego his duty of making sure the young woman got seen to as well, even though her injuries were not as serious as a broken bone.

"You ready to go, Miss..?" Extending his hand in the direction of the House of Healing, his eyes looked at her questioningly, hoping that she would provide him with her name as well as willingess to finally leave. Even though his shift had just started, he was already looking forward to finishing for the day.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Falaneth, the streets
with Malanor


It surprised her when Malanor lent a hand instead of insisting that she follow his directions. In her experience, Tower Guards did not like to be second-guessed or delayed, especially by her. And she had second-guessed their every move not so long ago to the point that she’d become a regular visitor to their offices for all the good it had done. She spared him a second glance as he stooped to pick up a ginger root, a potato, and more until his arms were full. Maybe this one was different. But the White Tree on his uniform, a symbol of pride to so many, blazed in her eyes until she felt them burn with tears at the painful memories. She was grateful that he chose that moment to step aside. Under the pretense of brushing the dust from her knees, she shielded her gaze until she felt the threatening tears fade.

“Yes, thank you.” Her wrist was smarting from gathering the vegetables and she shifted the bag to her other hand. “Falaneth,” she supplied her name quietly and wondered if he would recognize it as that girl who once plagued the Tower Guard in desperate denial at least according to them. The young woman turned on her heel and set off for the Houses of Healing, trying to stay one step ahead of him to keep her distance. With little energy to remember social niceties and expectations, she did not ask his name. She wanted to ask if Ms Irma could really lodge a complaint against her. It had clearly been an accident; the very notion was absurd to Falaneth. Leery of the answer, she did not bring it up as they walked through the thinning crowd to the Houses of Healing.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
The Streets to the Blacksmith
(@Rillewen)

Hathaldir cursed the damn fool who decided to build a city of stone that was so blinding white in the daylight. His head was pounding like a drum within his head after the day he’d had and squinting away the brightness and the noisy commotion of the streets did not help. A dram of whiskey, or maybe a whole bottle, and a cool, dark room possessed his every thought.

A cart rolled by. Every clack and clatter of the wheels on stone reverberated in his head and pulsed with rebounding pain. A wave of nausea came on and he kneaded his temple with his knuckles. The city never felt as immense as it did now when swarms of loud people and endless streets stood between him and relief. He wished they could be swallowed up and buried in the stone just to give him some peace and quiet. A stone city of troll-people, never to speak or steal or irritate him again. An impossible dream.

Ducking into the nearest open door in search of a darker space, Hathaldir entered the blacksmith’s shop by utter coincidence. Instantly, he knew something was not quite right. Instead of the clanging of tools, there was silence. Instead of a shopkeeper ready to harangue him with overpriced goods and the latest spield to entice him, there was a scrawny boy who looked distinctly out of place. Definitely not an apprentice. Definitely not the blacksmith. Definitely up to no good...rummaging around out of place with fingers light and quick. Hathaldir’s senses were already on edge owing to the state of his headache. Now they sharpened and latched on to the scene, the boy, the absent blacksmith and made a quick calculation.

“Hey!” He shouted, glaring at him through dark, slitted eyes as if he could crush the child with just that look. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Hathaldir loomed over the boy, stretching himself as tall as he could, planting his feet to block the exit. He had no intentions of making another arrest today, not after the headache the first one had given him, but his temper was exceptionally short at the moment and the kid set him off. In his Tower Guard uniform with a sword at his side, he was sure this would be a quick and simple case of scaring the kid off. And then, a drink.

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 580 
Posts: 2649
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Lailyn
Image
Strawberry

Strawberry had managed to scrounge up about a handful's worth of metal bits she thought would work as lockpicks, slipping them into various pockets. (She'd learned some time ago that it was usually best not to keep all your stash in one place.) Finding no more of these, she turned her attention to examining a knife the blacksmith had apparently recently finished, wondering whether it was worth taking.

Suddenly, the lovely, silent, calm atmosphere was shattered as a man shouted, startling her. The blacksmith had returned! That was her first thought, and the girl was hastily forming a reply in her mind when she spun and came face-to-face with none other than a guard. Her heart leaped into her chest, pounding as she stared at the uniform before her eyes. The man seemed like a giant, towering over her, and she couldn't even back away, due to the forge behind her. Had he seen her taking the pieces of metal? Did he recognize her picture?

She reminded herself she was in disguise, and therefore, tried to play the part she was dressed for. "J-just waiting for the smith to return...sir." She mumbled, hoping her voice sounded neutral enough to be a boy's, hoping even harder that he hadn't seen her put anything in her pockets. "My..my father sent me to get something." He looked rather suspicious of her,(and of course, has every reason to be). Strawberry held her breath waiting to find out if he'd buy her story. A boy could have easily been sent on an errand to the blacksmith's by his parents, after all... but how long had he been standing there?

She still had the knife in her hand, trying to pretend that, in being startled, she'd merely forgotten it was there, while in reality she was reluctant to put it down in case she needed to defend herself... though it wasn't the greatest knife, it was better than no knife, as she'd had to hide her own outside the city before entering. She certainly didn't like having her way blocked by this man, a guard, and if he didn't accept her story she might need to fight her way out of here.
"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."

Chief Counsellor of Gondor
Points: 2 909 
Posts: 1281
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:37 am
Image

Lady Ilisys Azrubêl (in a sort of 'desguise')
with Berrik and Dina
@Winddancer

Warm place to sleep and some bread, warm place and bread, warm bread and then sleep. You should have some warm milk with that,” It might have been an answer meant for the young man, or just as easily may have been a singsong to herself.

The small girl, Isys noted, had inched in closer to the lad, who she clearly deemed to be her protector. The woman of Belfalas smiled. It was good to know that the little one had trust in somebody and just as good as evidence as any that the boy was trustworthy. He had not left the smaller child to fend for herself. They did not look like kin, but then Ilisys had spent many of her own younger years being accompanied by those who were not her blood. The woman was from a place where chivalry, where reputation, was worth more than any amount of money. Which might be, admittedly, because her family had been so well endowed with fortune of coin. Regardless she had been a tourist in places which operated on the other side of the track. What she faced here was an exchange of trust in strangers. On both sides.

Reaching into her cloak, the noblewoman retrieved a small coin purse which was clearly bulging with more coin that was wise to carry on her person. Either she was extremely oblivious to the perils of pickpockets, or she knew far better than she looked, how to handle herself. Taking more time than was necessary to untie the cloth, she withdrew five shiny gold coins and one wooden disc. She held back the latter, as she offered forth the shinies in an extension of her outstretched, open palm. The other hand had stowed away the coin pouch in the time it took before anyone should notice it was gone again.

What you want is not always what you need. And what you want to need is else again. This shall not last for always. My word does. Come where you are bid to when you need to have what you want,” she tapped the side of her nose knowingly. “Do not lose the broom ..” she bade Berrik in a rather overdramatic tone, considering the content of this parting advice. And was rather sabotaged by her own friendly wave offered to Dina.

The wooden 'coin' was, with that, flipped into the air and might have been dazzling if it were not what it was. But it was not, and what it was, was in fact unclear without closer inspection. Whether the children moved to catch it or let it fall to the street, was engraved with the address, of a nondescript premises within this very Marketplace.

The strange woman span in her dull trappings and started trip skipping down the street, taking care to avoid all and any cracks in the cobbled path. That was all and enough for now. Enough to allow her to see what, if anything, would come to be. Life was full of choices. This was theirs. She had her own, and it took her around the corner and out of their sight. At least for now.
Last edited by Ercassie on Sat Sep 11, 2021 8:12 am, edited 1 time in total.
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.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Born Under a Bad Sign
Clothes Minded Individuals

She’d been paying attention to the streets for some time now, waiting for the moment that it all exploded frenetic energy. She felt like she’d been waiting forever. The shop hadn’t seen many patrons, but then again, she’d picked a spot that was not the most conducive to costumers. An unwary individual might assume she had been unlucky that’s she’d annoyed some marketplace official or guard to have been put in such an ill-suited spot. She liked it here, out of the way and harder to reach, but still within ear shot of the most delectable rumors. Despite being a simple tailor, the woman had a vested interest in the goings on of Minas Tirith. The changing of the guard and the changing of the wind were both within her interests and who knew when one would lead to the other. She’d maintained this little clothing shop for years now, and she’d learned the values of patience and a sharp eye. She could see the patterns in the way people moved about, day after day. Most of the individuals she came in contact with on a daily basis had a routine down so precise she could throw it off by waving at them a second too late. She liked doing that, upsetting people’s routine just slightly enough start their mornings off poorly. She was not vindictive of course, no she just liked to see what would happen. Sometimes upsetting routines led to manipulating livelihoods, but it was all under the same auspices of “what could happen?”

This morning had gone the same way all mornings went, the sun rose, she unlocked her haberdashery doors, and watched all the people as they walked by. Despite a poor location in terms of financial gain, there was a very large upside to the location of “Clothes Minded Individuals” it was within earshot of the library, much more so than most of
the Market’s bustling hubs.

It was not long after she’d opened her shop and began to brew herself a cup of chile infused tea that she heard the commotion. She’d been waiting on pins and needles. When was it going to be found? How long did it take for Minas Tirith to wake up?

“Well,” she said, taking a sip of her spicy tea, “let the games begin.”

Just then a customer walked in. She’d been expecting this one. His wife had been here yesterday looking for something similar to what he wanted. The woman set down her tea and sauntered up to him. “So, I see your wife sent you. Time to see what fabrics are going to work best for that skin tone. Let me get my measuring tape and we can start.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
The Blacksmith with Strawberry
(@Rillewen)

A breath hissed out from his flared nostrils. Hathaldir was tired of listening to people’s bull and pandering to the rules and trying to figure out what Tower Guards could and could not do in order to keep his job secure. He had to remind himself almost constantly what was at stake. The higher goal here was justice and retribution. It was all that mattered, whatever the cost. Apparently that cost included dealing with ambitious and resentful guards, a stern boss, a hateful woman who drove him up a wall, a woman with a gentle veneer hiding a too-clever mind, and of course, a thief. All in a day’s work. Now thief was possibly about to become thieves plural.

Suffice to say, he was ready to beat someone to a pulp. He had been itching for a fight for days, feeling like a caged animal. But he stayed his hand. Even in his foulest mood, he couldn’t just beat up a scrawny kid for no reason. But he could intimidate him and even enjoy it a little bit, let off some steam that needed venting.

“And what.” He stepped closer. “Did your father.” And another step. “Send you to get?” Sandwiched between the forge and the guard, let the kid sweat. Let him shake and squirm and feel the terror of whatever wrong he had done. Hathaldir would siphon up the fear like a blood-sucking bat he’d heard tales and rumors whispered around bars and taverns by folk who didn’t know any better. Probably folk like this kid. Ones who believed everything they were told and stayed in lines like ducks in a row. Well, this little duck was not getting away so easily.

The orange glow of the forge made his head pulse and writhe and little spots began to spark and dance in his vision. He did not let that stop him. “I don’t think he sent you for that knife, did he?” Growling, he lunged forward to grab the blade from the boy’s hand before he got any funny ideas about where to stick it.

In the struggle that ensued, the hat perched on the boy’s head went flying, landing in the forge with a violent crackle and going up in flames. What was a more eye-catching and interesting sight than the burning hat was what the loss of it revealed. A girl with a head of long, red hair.

Hathaldir pulled back, narrowing his eyes, seeing for a moment the thief he had already arrested. But how was she here? He shook his pounding head and blinked. It was not Thea. It was someone else. Someone whose face he had studied among the other wanted posters, searching for the face of a murderer.

“You!” The word was thick with vehemence and recognition.

Steward of Gondor
Points: 5 580 
Posts: 2649
Joined: Wed Sep 01, 2021 10:12 pm
@Lailyn
Image
Strawberry
In the empty Blacksmith's shop - Confronted by Hathaldir

The guard certainly seemed to be doing his best to intimidate the helpless young boy he saw before him. Unfortunately for him, not only was this 'boy' not a boy, but she was also not the least intimidated. Small she might be, but Strawberry was far from 'helpless', having dealt with far more frightening things than this man. First, her eyes narrowed, as he stepped in closer, demanding to know what 'he' had been sent for. She could come up with a dozen things. Horseshoes, nails, a tool of some sort, a variety of common household items... but she said not a word. Partly, because before she had a chance to decide what to answer, the man had made a grab for the knife in her hand.

Strawberry was caught off guard, having not expected him to try anything like that. How could she have let her guard down? She knew better than to get careless like that, and should have anticipated such an action from the man. Annoyance at herself flared within, which fueled her to act on instinct as his grip closed on the knife, trying to wrench it from her grasp. Strawberry twisted herself around lithely, so as to break his grip on her hand, and possibly leave him with his own wrist in pain. She lost her grip on the knife, but he lost his grip on her. However, she was momentarily unaware that the motion had brought his arm across the top of her head, pulling her cap from her head. Stepping back once free of him, Strawberry realized she had acted before taking the time to think it through. A long, tightly braided rope of thick, red hair came tumbling down from where it had been coiled on top of her head, hidden beneath the hat and tucked carefully out of sight. She glanced with some alarm back at the forge, seeing that her hat was beyond saving by this point, and, further alarmed, turned back to face the guard as she heard his exclamation.
"You!"

That was it. He'd recognized her from the posters she knew were plastered around town. She should never have come here; she'd known it would be dangerous, so why had she gotten so careless? She could have kicked herself. But instead, she focused that anger on the situation at hand. He had recognized her, and now there was no way she was going to get out of here without a fight. He would arrest her, and bring her to her greatest enemy, and that would be the end for Strawberry. She couldn't let that happen. No sooner had the word left his mouth than Strawberry leaped into action. The first was a powerful, close-range punch to the sternum. Despite whatever armor he might be wearing, it ought to leave him a bit winded, but it was more for the purpose of driving him back a step or two. Sliding back swiftly to give herself room for her next move, she leaped into a spinning double kick aimed at his face; a feat he likely did not expect from a girl who barely came up to his chest. Letting the spinning motion carry her immediately into a follow-up move, a kick that lashed out to sweep his leg out from under him, she hoped that would be enough to hinder him from chasing her as she leaped up to her feet, intending to make a hasty exit…
"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."

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Hathaldir
The Blacksmith with Strawberry (@Rillewen)


Hathaldir had seen the posters. He had studied them intently, in fact, searching each one for the face of the murderer who had gotten away. Initially, he had thought he would surely know them by the stark sketches in black and white, that some part of him would recognize his brother’s killer. He was sadly mistaken. Not a single one gave him a feeling or clue as to who was responsible. Perhaps the guilty party was sly enough not to get caught, unlike like this girl. He remembered her poster, yet another thief, but she was also more than that, worse than that. A murderer, it said. At the time, he found it quite hard to believe and merely scoffed at her list of supposed crimes.

And then, he met the real girl on the poster. More specifically, he met her fist as it pummeled his chest causing his breath to stutter painfully, winding him, and then he met her foot as her kick landed him square in the face with a crunching sound. The final strike was a blow to his pride. He stumbled back under her quick feet sweeping through.

What the hell? How could such a small girl manage to inflict all this?

It happened so fast, so unexpectedly, Hathaldir had no time to react. Somewhere during the scuffle, the knife fell loose from his grip and clattered to the floor. He wasn’t ready for this kind of fight from some girl and he was not in the mood to deal with it. His head was pounding incessantly now, beating against his temple, practically screaming at him. It was amplified by the growing pain in his face, which was now streaked with blood pouring from his nose. Wiping the blood with his sleeve only succeeded in smearing it across his face. Grimacing, the bloody-faced Tower Guard stepped between her and the way out. “Have you had your fun?” He spat a wad of red-tinged mucus to the floor and glared her way.

“You’ve proven your point. I won’t arrest you…” He held up his hands in mock surrender and lowered his voice, letting the offer roll over her with all the enticement he could muster. It was make a deal time, an opportunity he could not pass up. And one he hoped she couldn't, either. Go free or go to gaol, he knew which one he would pick. “I’ll turn a blind eye to you. If you do me a favor. I’m sure you and I can come to some arrangement that will benefit us both. Don’t you? Otherwise...” He rested his hand on his sword hilt and gave her a sickening grin. “I will not underestimate you again. Do I make myself clear?”

New Soul
Points: 1 672 
Posts: 1138
Joined: Wed May 27, 2020 7:12 pm
Att: A new Minas Tirith Marketplace II has been opened. If you wish, you can continue your RP there or make a whole new RP. The choices are infinite! :smooch:
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
Image

Post Reply