Michel Delving Market

Growing food and eating it occupied most of their time.
Farmer
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In the chief township of the Four Farthings, there is a large market square with a maze of stalls. All the hobbits nearby, as well as some who have traveled from outside the Westfarthing, come to the Michel Delving Market for its large selection of goods. One can find fruits and vegetables (depending on the season), delicious baked goods, pipeweed, clothes, and supplies for every hobbit hole.

If you want to run a stall in the Market, just fill out this form:

Owner:
Name of Stall:
Description of goods or services provided:



Rules:
~ Market stall owners do not have to be members of The Shire, but must use an appropriate NPC if they are not a hobbit ~
~ One person may only own one stall ~
~ If you leave your stall unattended for more than two threads, it will be shut down ~ (We'll see how the Plaza site goes before this becomes a thing)
~ There cannot be more than one stall selling the same thing (i.e. we can't have two pipeweed stalls or two bakeries) ~


The following market stalls are open for business:

Dainty Daisies
Owner:
Joel Cotton
Description of goods or services provided: Flower seeds of all kinds (sunflowers, roses, daisies, lilies, etc.), baby bushes and shade trees, bouquets of flowers that have already bloomed, mulch, soil, all needed gardening tools, and instructional books to help you care for your garden.

Perfect Plums: Produce, Pickles and Preserves
Owner: Lily Knotwise
Description of goods or services provided: fresh berries, orchard fruits (pears, apples, peaches, plums) and rhubarb, and preserves and pickles made from the same


Trinkets & Treasures
Owner: Dwim Took
Description of goods or services provided: An eclectic collection of mathoms and trinkets sourced from the Shire and beyond. Antiques, odd trinkets, jewellery, tableware, unique books, maps, old paintings and portraits, and much more.


Knitted Knacks
Owner: Heather Boffin
Description of goods or services provided: A variety of knitted and crocheted goods. Mainly items such as shawls, scarfs, and baby blankets. The occasional tea cosy or hat can be found as well. Commissioned goods are considered upon request.


The Writing Quill
Owner: Istya Alassea
Description of goods or services provided: Varieties of writing quills, along with a wide variety of scented and unscented inks. (If a client wants a custom-made ink of a particular scent, please let Istya know!) Parchment of different types and origins are also available - some even from Minas Tirith and Rohan. Book seaming services are also available, which is great for clients who want to self-publish diaries, stories and poetry for others to read.


Time for Tea and Cake Tearoom
Owner: Lobelia Brindleway
Description of goods or services provided: A tea room selling a great selection of delicious cakes, a place to come and get your daily loaf or rolls, a place to rest from shopping and catch up with friends.


Bee Vomit Boffin's Beeswax and Honey
Owner: Tari Boffin
Description of goods or services provided: Raw unfiltered local honey and beeswax products.


Lost Cheese
Owner: Faramond Undertree
Description of goods or services provided: Every sort of cheese the Shire has to offer. Also a few dairy items that would probably sell better outside the Shire, if we are being completely honest. Everything is handmade by Mr Faramond Undertree and his handful of shop workers. The Dairy is locally sourced. The staff are not...
Last edited by Joel Cotton on Sat Sep 19, 2020 11:20 pm, edited 8 times in total.

Farmer
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It had seemed like ages since the markets had closed down, but now at last, the stalls were opening, and the quiet square now teemed with life and activity once more, as if nothing had happened. Some hobbits were not sure of why the closure in the first place. Some murmured about some rumor about a plague, others that the upkeep for the stalls and the square were too much for the ol' Mayor to handle.

But it mattered not, as the chatter and sounds of hobbits peddling their wares filled the square, though how long it might last was anyone's guess. For it was Spring in The Shire and the rain looked not too far off...



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Dainty Daisies
Joel smelled the air as he arrived at his stall. Ahhh, rain. It seemed close, with the air smelling fresh. It had seemed like ages since he had been to the market square, but there was his stall, in its familiar place in a corner. He pulled up his wagon laden with his assortment of plants to the side of the stall, and began to offload them to their displays. He only hoped the rain would hold off for a little bit so he could finish this task before he got himself drenched.

Esquire of The Mark
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Lily had heard from conversation in the Green Dragon last night that the market was reopening, and that news had sent her running home at the end of the evening shift with butterflies in her tummy - she was so excited to see what would be available, and she needed all sorts of things that came from outside her little slice of the Shire; seeds, cloth, a new watering can..., and she had fruit and preserves for sale... Oh so exciting!

So it was no surprise that she was up before the birds and encouraging her little pony to pull her cart to the market as the sun lit the sky. It was not an arduous journey but the market wasn't exactly on her doorstep and she wanted to arrive with plenty of time to browse.

Before she saw the market she heard it, the quiet buzz of shoppers and stall holders making transactions, admiring produce. She squirmed with excitement and as soon as she could she dismounted, freed the pony from the cart and tied him up near a patch of green grass and a bucket of water she fetched herself from a nearby stream, and hurried into the market proper.

Stall holders were still unpacking, which prompted her to seek out an application for a stall of her own. She could browse whilst she waited to find out which pitch was hers.

Owner: Lily Knotwise
Name of Stall: Perfect Plums: Produce, Pickles and Preserves
Description of goods or services provided: fresh berries, orchard fruits (pears, apples, peaches, plums) and rhubarb, and preserves and pickles made from the same


That done, she had look around her... Where to start? Aha! Dainty Daisies might have some of what she wanted. She made a beeline for Joel, though she could see he was still unpacking.
"Hullo there, do you need a hand with that?" she asked as she approached.

Storyteller
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Owner: Dwim Took
Name of Stall: Unnatural Selections
Description of goods or services provided: An eclectic collection of oddities from around the world. Taxidermy services and specimens, strange books, old portraits (of famous hobbits & others), bones and teeth (of goblins, wargs & such), peculiar medicines, odd weapons, and many other eccentric items. Commissions considered on request.

Dwim had become a bit of an outsider, unusual even by Took standards. He was a friendly, polite lad, and quite well dressed though not too fussy about that sort of thing. As far as most were concerned, he could be considered a good and respectable hobbit were it not for his peculiar and concerning habit of collecting odd things. He was known for displaying all sorts of strange items and decorations gathered from curious parts of the world. Many of these were from the Shire, items that some had wished were lost to the dirt, but many had been collected from dark strangers he'd met at Bree and had come from far off places.

He was well aware of what people thought of his collections. He was reminded almost every day. That is why he was naming his new stall 'Unnatural Selections', he knew that was exactly what people would say about his items. But he was proud of his collection. More proud of it than anything else. It was his life's work. And he knew there were one or two people around who would be curious enough to visit his stall, it had happened before at other markets. He was particularly excited to show people the jar of goblin teeth he'd picked up recently. He hadn't had time to mount the teeth individually yet though, that was his job for today after setting up his stall.

As Dwim unpacked his cart and began putting up his tent, he could see others beginning for the day too. Joel Cotton was there unloading his plants and flowers, and it looked like Lily Knotwise was there too, offering to help. Dwim called out with a wave and a smile, "Morning!". He was not sure how welcome his stall would be here today. He was not even sure if his application would be accepted. But where else would he get a bigger audience for his collection of oddities? He began hanging some of his portraits and wondering how the day would go.

Elven Enchanter
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Owner: Heather Boffin
Name of Stall: Knitted Knacks
Description of goods or services provided: A variety of knitted and crocheted goods. Mainly items such as shawls, scarfs, and baby blankets. The occasional tea cosy or hat can be found as well. Commissioned goods are considered upon request.

Heather slowly entered the market square. This was her first time attempting to run a stall. She had grown up attending the market with her parents, so there was some familiarity in the area, but she had always been a customer here. As she arrived, Heather looked around and sighed in relief that it was still early and there were only three stalls up so far. Joel Cotton was there with his flower stall, Lily Knotwise with her fruit stall (I must remember to pick up some fruit before I go home, Heather thought), and that strange Dwim Took with a stall filled with an assortment of odd goods. Heather shuddered slightly as she caught a glimpse of the items in that hall. Who on earth would want things that did not come from the Shire?

She began to unpack her bags of knitted good and arrange them in her stall. Knitting had been a hobby of hers for years and it was time to see if she could make some sort of a business out of it. Hopefully there would be hobbits who wished to avoid making many of the knitted goods that were often required about the house and would choose to purchase them from her stall.

Heather waved hello to the other stall owners and then waited by her stall for the market day to begin.
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

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Having come from the Green Dragon Inn, she had already gotten a good view of the goings on at the old market grounds. Hobbit lasses and lads were milling about, checking out the new stalls and setting up even newer ones. Seeing this made Istya's heart leap. She remembered her own stall from many years ago, and already had her own ideas of how she could expand on that business idea today.

So she handed her own slip of paper over to the market overseer, and hoped her old idea - with new services added - would still work. She couldn't see why it wouldn't but just wanted to be sure.

Owner: Istya Alassea

Name of Stall: The Writing Quill

Description of goods or services provided: Varieties of writing quills, along with a wide variety of scented and unscented inks. (If a client wants a custom-made ink of a particular scent, please let Istya know!) Parchment of different types and origins are also available - some even from Minas Tirith and Rohan. Book seaming services are also available, which is great for clients who want to self-publish diaries, stories and poetry for others to read.

She already started looking toward the brand new market stalls, and she stepped over to admire their woodwork. Some had handmade carvings along their sides. Others had paintings of flowers and plants instead, and this gave her yet another idea. She wondered how much creative control she would have if she were to be approved. She also started to look about the grounds to see where she would set up. It would have to be not too far from view of the Green Dragon or of the main road looping through Michel Delving. But exactly where was a great question to ask herself right now!

Hobbit Child
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Owner: Lobelia brindleway
Name of Stall: Time for tea and cake tearoom
Description of goods or services provided: A tea room selling a great selection of delicious cakes, a place to come and get your daily loaf or rolls, a place to rest from shopping and catch up with friends.

Lobelia was excited to be opening her tea room. It was something she had always wanted to do. She had always had a passion for baking since she was a little girl and her mother used to let her bake simple cakes.

She saw all other Hobbits excitingly opening up stalls and her excitement grew. Hers wasn't necessary a stall but a tea room and she hope it would be approved. She would love to have Hobbits in so they could catch up with friends and help them with their sweet tooth or get their daily bread for the day. She found an empty room in a nice little area just under a tree and she sighed smiled and placed her hands on her hips as she admired it.

Yes this is perfect she thought as she imagined briefly what it would all look like. She had so many ideas with how to decorate it inside.

She couldn't wait to tell her best friend rose once it had all been approved.

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Dwim had done quite a bit of work in the last half-an-hour or so. His favourite portraits were hung for display, and his tables were set-up with some of his best taxidermy animals, surrounded by trinkets and things. His favourite new specimen on display today was an extremely rare black fox he'd had the fortune of being able to mount. He was especially eager for people to ask him about it.

His stall and tent were still not completely set-up though. He was yet to sort the collection of books he'd brought with him so that visitors could browse the covers easily. But it was becoming high time for a break. Too much hard work for too long at a time wasn't a good idea as far as most hobbits were concerned. There needed to be regular breaks so that one could eat sufficiently and have a drink of tea too.

Fortunately, it looked like someone had just arrived who could help with this need! Lobelia Brindleway had found her way down to the market and was looking to prepare her tea room. Dwim was so enticed by the thought of tea and cake (breakfast was already an hour-and-a-half ago), that he didn't take much consideration that Lobelia was probably not at all ready for customers yet. He approached the friendly looking hobbit at her soon to be tea room. "Good morning!", he greeted her with a smile. "I'm Dwim Took, I have the stall over there." He pointed at his strange looking shop, Unnatural Selections. "If you don't mind me asking, are you ready for customers?" He continued. "And what sorts of cakes might you have for sale this morning?"

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Lobelia sat on the grass under the tree near her picked location, she was planning out her tearoom onto paper with a quill, organised that she was.
When along came a friendly looking hobbit (Dwim) with a smile he introduced himself and pointed to this shop, unnatural selections, it was a unique name for a shop. After following his finger to look at his shop she then looked back at him as he asked her if she was ready for customers and the sort of cakes she would be selling this morning.

Lobelia stood up and placed her quill and parchment back into her bag, dusted her skirt down and replied
'Good morning. I am Lobelia Brindleway. Nice to meet you. And yes I passed your unnatural selections shop, a lovely name. I shall have to check your shop out and see if I can find a gift for someone, particularly your trinkets. ' she smiled and continued to answer his questions.

'You are lucky I have bought some freshly baked cakes and other goods in my basket here just to tie the shop over should it be approved to open before my mother comes along with her horse and cart to help me set up shop furthermore...' she had a look in her basket to remind herself what she had brought along. 'Let's see...I've got apple turnovers, blackberry crumble pies, apricot jam tarts, raspberry and apple cakes and also...poppyseed loaves, mushroom pies...' she finished with a smile and a squint as the sun was coming out and shining very brightly into her face.

'What do you fancy?' and as your my first customer I will let you try something for free. ' she beamed and she waited for Dwim to reply.

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Dainty Daisies
Joel had gotten about half of the planters unloaded from his wagon, and was just leaning up some of the hoes and rakes up against a display stand when a voice behind him asked if he needed help. He turned around to see Lily Knotwise standing there. He recognized her as being the owner of the new stall selling a variety of berries and orchard fruits. He would need to stop by and check out what she has later, as he didn't have any in his home. He smiled and said "Hullo there! I think I have this quite handled, but thank you kindly for the offer. Can I interest you in anything? Any seeds or flowering plants? Tools perhaps?". He truthfully didn't have much left to do to unload the wagon, and now that the market square is filling with more hobbits coming to check out the activity, it was working out for him to be prepared and ready for potential shoppers.

Just then, he heard a voice call out (Dwim) "Morning!" - to which Joel turned around to the source of the voice and waved a cheery greeting in return. "Hullo back, and a fine day it is!" It was then he noticed the stall the hobbit was setting up, and the rather, erm, odd... assortments he had. It certainly looked intriguing. Perhaps he'd be brave enough to take a gander later too.

More hobbits were coming in, and Joel waved hello back to Heather as she came in and had her stall ready. He then noticed Istya looking over the stalls, and he remembered then that he would need some new parchment and quills for his books. Perhaps when he had a break, he'd go over and see what she had. The day had barely started, and already so much to do and see.

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Unnatural Selections

When Dwim saw Lobelia get up, put her quill and parchment away, and dust the grass off herself, he realised she probably wasn't ready for visitors and he'd just intruded on some important writing or planning. "Terribly sorry to interrupt!" he apologised, before she began speaking to him.

It turned out she was a lovely hobbit to talk to. She paid him an exceptional compliment by remarking on the name of his stall. That brought a smile to his face, as he had wondered if it was too strange a name. "Thank you, thank you. You are very welcome to visit my shop. We do have something for everyone." That last part could be considered debatable, as there were plenty of hobbit-folk who wouldn't dare even look at some of the things in his shop. But Dwim was very proud of his collection and knew he had many things that would make great gifts. "If you come by later, I'd be very happy to make some gift suggestions," he offered.

But what made Dwim even happier was her answer to his enquiry. She did in fact have plenty of treats in her basket, and his belly made an audible growl as she mentioned all of what she had. So many options, he could try them all! But he had to remember his manners, and he liked to make a good first impression. "Oh they all sound lovely. How about I try an apple turnover, and three apricot jam tarts?" he asked. It was quite a lot to ask for one lad on his first visit, but hobbits were hobbits. "That is so very nice of you to let me try something for free, but here's some payment for the rest. You let me know if it's enough." He reached forward to put some money in her hand. "Thank you, see you later. I should be back for a mushroom pie at some stage!"

As he returned to his stall, he heard Joel calling back to him and waving. As Dwim had already pushed one of the jam tarts into his mouth, he couldn't call back. But he raised his eyebrows with an impressed look on his face as he pointed to the cakes in his hand, then pointed to Lobelia, with the intention of letting Joel know there were cakes around, they were good, and that was where he could get some.

Hobbit Child
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Lobelia took out an apple turnover and 3 apricot jam tarts and handed them to the Hobbit (Dwim) and I was nice of him to offer her some payment even though she had said he could have them for free.
'Why thank you. I do hope you enjoy them.' I'll look forward to serving you later for a mushroom pie. Perhaps I will have the tea room set up abit by then.' She smiled and watched him walk away.

And with that she sat back down again to her planning. She wondered how long her mother would be with tea room supplies.
She had just taken out a blackberry crumble pie for herself to eat as the heat and planning had made her peckish. When she could hear the sound of hooves.

She looked up to see her mother on her horse and cart coming around down the middle of the marketplace. The inside laden with stuff to help set up her tearoom.
When her mother had got to where she was, Lobelia gave shadow her families horse a stroke. And hugged her mother when she had got down from her seat at the cart.

'Hello dear. You found a place to set up then..' her mother said and wiped her brow '....it sure is hot today. '... Right so I've got everything from tables, chairs, tablecloths, ingredients for the cakes and bread in the back...let's get started then. ' her mother said she was also excited for her daughter to be setting up her own tea room. And had even said she will help with baking bread, rolls and sausage rolls her speciality bits to help out.

Lobelia took out the key she had got ready to open her tearoom and opened the door. She was so excited. 'Oh look mother, isn't this exciting. I've always wanted to open my own tearoom since I was small and now it is official.

'Yes dear, I am delighted for you...' her mother said as she carried in some supplies from the cart...' Lobelia went over to the counter she would be serving behind and breathed. 'this couldn't be any more perfect...' she said...' as her mother struggled to take a table in through the door. And she went round to help.
Later on she would go and tell her best friend Rose Sandybanks all about her new job.

Chef
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The Writing Quill
    Istya almost jumped when the market overseer (Joel) called out her name and told her she was good to set up her market stall. "Thank you!" she called out, pushing the various strands of her hair back behind her right ear. "I will get right on it." She then placed her hand on the market stall cart she liked the most for the purposes of her wares, pulled up the handle to bring it to where she wanted it to go, and then carried it down the road to be not too far from the tea room Ms. Brindleway was currently setting up with her mother. She had not yet met the hobbit lass, but had heard good things so far about her from other hobbits in the area. The food she was already handing out also smelled really good. The treats she smelled were so tempting, she determined she would head her direction once she was set up herself.

    Once she got the cart all set up in the position that she wanted it, she began to look over the wood paneling. She found the sign that needed to be painted, and she was just about to place it in front of her for some wood finishing when a tall, sandy haired elf spotted her curly head and headed down the road purposefully in her direction with a cart full of her supplies.

    "Good news, Eldor!" she trilled, leaving her stall behind for a minute. "As you can see, your help today is right on time and approved by the market master. Thank you for heading this way."

    She felt a little embarrassed when he leaned over to kiss her cheek in front of everyone else there. At the same time, she couldn't help giggling. Had it really already been two years that they had been married? "At your service, my lady," his voice replied, lilting with laughter. "Let me get all these bags unloaded for you."

    So the two of them worked together first in getting her available fruits, flowers and herbs to go toward the back of the stall. She then started going through all of the available parchments, each of the types tied up in twine to keep them all together with their own kinds. She placed them toward the left front side of the stall in different rows and columns. To their right, her husband was putting down all of her ink wells in random places. That was fine. She would organize them later. The last task was to put up the quarter vases, with all of the quills in them, on the cart's main table top.

    Even without the sign, it would be obvious as to what she was selling. So that could wait. She was just excited to start doing business soon! The last time she had run the business, most customers had come in the mornings and then sometimes later in the mid-afternoons. So she anticipated that would happen this time as well.
    Last edited by Istya Alassea on Sat May 23, 2020 4:41 pm, edited 2 times in total.

    Chieftain of The Mark
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    A hilltop north of Hardbottle and south of Michel Delving

    NPC: Wer ëac Hoblyta

    Two figures stood atop a grassy hillock at daybreak. From a distance an onlooker might have mistaken them for a father and child; closer inspection would have disproved this. True, one of the duo was taller than the other - the top of his companion’s head reached his waist only – yet his back was stooped with age, making him more likely gran’ pa to the smaller.

    But that was not true either.

    The morning sun found the faces of the pair as they hunkered by their campfire, faces which bore no hint of kinship. The man, grizzled hair tied in a rough ponytail at the nape of his wattled neck, was weather-beaten, careworn and thin as a whippet; his acquaintance, a hobbit that lounged rather than hunkered, had a head of tight curls atop a ruddy, plump face. There was no air of dishevelment about his apparel; the spangled wes’kit about his rotund frame was freshly laundered, so too was the garish handkerchief knotted rakishly around his neck.

    As breakfast (the first of the day) cooked on the campfire the pair set out between them a wad of letters and notes. Some were scrawled on reused parchment, others on fine pampiere. Some were lengthy and crammed with irrelevant detail, others short and to the point. The pair divvyed up these missives as they munched their ham and eggs; sipped the last of the tea as they broke camp and made ready to venture forth.

    By 8 o’clock no sign of them or their palaver remained upon the hilltop. By 8 of the morn the hobbit had been heading due north for half an hour on foot. His companion, mounted and lightly arrayed, had already reached Sackville as he hurried south
    .
    Last edited by Aodh Hammerhelm on Thu May 28, 2020 10:38 am, edited 2 times in total.

    Storyteller
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    Unnatural Selections

    With pastries in hand, Dwim returned to his stall as he still had some work to do finishing his shop. With some sugar in his body, he felt ready to get back to work. He wiped his hands on his trousers before setting himself to the task of organising the books he'd brought to sell. He pulled one of the small bookcases from his cart, heaved it down onto the ground. He put it into place on top of a dark red rug, and just below a hanging portrait of a male hobbit with a strange bulbous growth coming off the side of his neck.

    On top of the bookcase, he placed a magical looking carved sign which said "Books". He'd bought that sign cheap from a closing-down sale at a book shop in Bree which had gone out of business. He began filling the bookcase with books from a wooden box, stopping here and there to browse through some of them. He found some of his stuff hard to sell, as he was proud of every piece in his collection. One of the books he stopped to look through was a heavy work entitled 'An Inventory of Mathoms', which was written and compiled some time ago by the old curators at the Michel Delving Mathom House. As stated on the first page, it was intended as an image of a moment in time, a look into Shire culture by listing the full collection of mathoms that were stored in the house at the time. Complete with as many details as were available, including descriptions, drawings, and names of original owners of most of the items. As a keen collector of antiques and strange and unwanted items, he found this book absolutely fascinating and was tempted to put it back in the box and keep for himself.

    But Dwim wouldn't make any money that way, so he closed the cover and put it on the shelf with a smile. He continued moving books onto the case, until it was full. He breathed a satisfied sigh, then turned towards the rest of the market to have a look around at what was going on.

    Elven Enchanter
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    Heather Boffin - Knitted Knacks

    The market was quickly filling up with stalls and there were some delicious smells coming from Lobelia's Tearoom. Once all of her bags and boxes of hand knitted goods were out for display, Heather wondered if she should wander over and get a snack before the business of the market day started. Her stomach rumbled a bit and quickly decided that yes, a snack, or perhaps two snacks, were in order before the day of selling began. In a moment of horror, she realised she hadn't yet had her second breakfast of the day.

    She padded over and said, "Hello, I'm Heather. Your cakes smell wonderful. Any chance one or two are available?" As she waited for the hobbit to respond, Heather noticed that Dwim was starting to put out a collection of books. Perhaps he wasn't so odd after all. And the stall full of writing materials certainly looked worth exploring. Heather didn't consider herself much of a writer, but nice inks and quills were always useful to have about the house. Her stomach rumbled again and she eagerly awaited Lobelia's answer, hoping that it would be a positive one.
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    Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

    Esquire of The Mark
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    Lily smiled as Joel confirmed he was all set up and started to talk about what he had to offer on the stall today. After waving a hello to Dwim as he passed, she began to explain to Joel what she was looking for.
    "Well, you see, my garden is more of a vegetable patch than a flower bed, but I do serve edible flowers with my salads and cakes, and some flowers help to keep the pests away, and other flowers help the bees make honey. So I'm looking for some seeds - things like marigolds, lavender, lilac, pansies, nasturtiums and geraniums. I don't expect you to have them all, but if you have any it will help brighten up both my garden and my plate." she said with a giggle.

    While she was talking a little hobbit lad ran up to her with a note advising where she could set up her stall, and she almost hopped on the spot with excitement. She would finish her shopping first, then go and set up, she decided, as buying seeds was also very exciting - imagining all the colour and life in her garden!
    Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

    Farmer
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    Dainty Daisies

    Joel nodded as Lily began to list the different types of flower seeds she was looking for, as he had just seen them in his inventory as he was unloading to set up. "Of course! I've got a wide variety of seeds, my preferred ones being the nasturtiums, geraniums, and pansies. I also have some starter shoots of snapdragons, and several other types of flowers if you don't want to wait for the seeds to germinate - you can easily just transplant them into your garden for instant satisfaction for those bees!" He hoped he wasn't overwhelming her with choices, but one couldn't have too many different kinds of flowers - variety was key to a well-tended garden. Or so his parents taught him.

    His eyes caught sight of someone just past Lily waving and gesturing. He recognized Dwim pointing to his full face, and then to a quaint tearoom that had just been set up with some delicious smells wafting from it - Yes, that is where he would go next once his customer was well-stocked and on her way.

    Hobbit Child
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    Lobelia Brindleway
    Time for tea and cake tearoom

    Lobelia and her mother, Donnamira had just finished setting the last bits of furniture and accessories up in her tearoom. She stood back and admired the results. Lacey tablecloths graced the tables and her mother had even put up the curtains which were a cherry yellow colour.
    Lobelia went round to the counter area and finished up there. Setting up some of the cakes and pies that where in her basket onto counter. She would make some more fresh ones later at home and then tomorrow her mother will help bake some loaves of bread her mother's speciality in the back of the tearoom.

    It wasn't long before a hobbit (Dim) came along and she introduced herself as Heather she told her her cakes smelt wonderful and if there was one or two available. To which Lobelia smiled and replied,
    " Hello Heather and welcome. Of course there is lots to choose from. I've got apple and blackberry crumble pies, apple turnovers, apricot jam tarts, raspberry and apple cakes and also...poppyseed loaves, mushroom pies...' And my mother here bakes fresh bread which will be available daily" She finished. And she waited for the Hobbit to choose.

    Chieftain of The Mark
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    NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta : The Market at Michel Delving

    By the time the hobbit reached Michel Delving his feet were aching and his tummy rumbling. He’d made good speed from the hill south of the town, kept his eyes firmly on the road to avoid lolly-gagging in hedgerows laden with summer berries.

    The market place was as he remembered it; little had changed in his long absence from the Shire. The place was crammed with stalls and shoppers; the scent of fresh baking drifted in the noon air. The hobbit tightened his belt around his rebellious stomach and cast an eye over the booths and pitches which did not offer food and drink. These were few in number, most were laden with tempting morsels of every shape and description, but two he espied which might suit his purposes.

    Yes, The Writing Quill and Unnatural Selections seemed like likely places to begin his enquiries. With any luck he’d soon be in possession of the information he sought and then… Well, then he would treat himself to the second-breakfast and elevenses he’d missed on his morning march.

    He moseyed past The Writing Quill several times, trying not to look too suspicious as he cast a sideward glance over the merchandise on display.

    No good, he quickly ascertained. Blank parchment and paper without any history or information that might aid him. Unnatural Selections proved an altogether more promising prospect, although the name of the stall made him uneasy for some reason he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

    Stepping forward, throwing his hood back as he did so, he rapped sharply on the counter top of the booth and addressed the stall-holder (Dwim) cheerfully. “Good day, good hobbit, I wonder if you might be of assistance on this fine midday?”
    - he hath not forgotten Image the face of his fathers -

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    Unnatural Selections

    The marketplace was starting to busy up. It had been a slow start, perhaps due to the threat of oncoming rain. Dwim was yet to have a customer, though he caught a few glances directed towards his shop. Most of those people glancing quickly averted their eyes in hope that Dwim wouldn't notice them looking. Well, if there were no customers, he at least had to keep himself busy with other work. He dug into his bag and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for.

    It was the jar of goblin teeth he'd recently acquired in a trade with one of the Big Folk. Each tooth was to be set onto a spike and mounted on little carved stands for display. Even before mounting, the teeth were interesting enough on their own to look at. Quite horrifying, actually. It was a challenge to find goblin teeth that hadn't rotted. But these were better quality ones, some of them frightfully sharp and crooked, with roots bending in all sorts of directions you didn't normally see with teeth. Once mounted, they would make quite an impression as stand-alone pieces.

    He'd just begun deciding which tooth to start cleaning up first, when his attention was caught by the sudden rapping of knuckles on his counter. Dwim turned his head quickly. There stood a well-dressed hobbit (Onhæle Holbytla), his first customer of the day! After a cheerful greeting, the visitor asked for some assistance.

    "Good day to you too, sir," Dwim replied with a smile, unaware that the hobbit seemed to be looking for information. "Yes of course, how may I be of assistance? Is there anything in particular you're looking for? I've had lots of new arrivals in the last few months."

    Chieftain of The Mark
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    NPC: Onhæle Holbytla: The Market at Michel Delving - Unnatural Selections

    Dwim’s first customer of the day did not reply immediately, his eyes were drawn (somewhat reluctantly!) over the slew of macabre articles that crowed the counter-top and shelving before him.

    Stuffed animals and other distasteful artifacts, who would buys such things? And more importantly what kind of person collected them?

    The bottle of goblin-teeth clutched in the stall-holder’s chubby hands were particularly gruesome, but there were many other items on display that caused the would-be client’s empty tum to churn alarmingly.

    Stilling what would have been a loud and exceedingly discourteous belch, Dwim’s customer bellied up closer to the counter. Assuming what he hoped was a nonchalant and worldly-wise pose, he set a small leather purse upon the counter.

    “In particular? Why, yes, in a manner of speaking… But before we begin our business, might I, in the manner of all good Shire-folk, know your name?”

    Forester of Lothlorien
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    Leilani Took

    Leilani’s warm brown eyes shone brightly as she skipped towards the Michel Delving Market. It had been too long since the Market has last been open, and when she had heard the night before that it would be open today, she had gone to bed early, and had snuck out of the family Hobbit hole before her mother and her numerous aunts and uncles had even stirred from their beds.

    Her blue-grey skirt swooshed around her knees as she skipped along. She eyed each stall with interest – seeds, fruits, craft items, writing materials, and eccentric things, but it was a little room underneath a tree that caught her attention. Mouth watering scents came from within, and her tummy rumbled. Her slowed her pace, placing a hand over her golden-yellow corset atop her tummy. She had left before eating breakfast; a very un-Hobbit thing to do. She shook her head, making her long brown curls dance. Grabbing a bite to eat before exploring the other stalls wouldn’t hurt. She slowly made her way inside, smiling at the Hobbit (Lobelia) who seemed to be running the stall. “Hullo!” She said brightly. “Beautiful day today, isn’t it?”
    Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

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    Unnatural Selections

    Dwim noticed a pause from his visitor, the Onhæle Holbytla, when asked what kind of assistance he required. He watched the hobbit's eyes skitter across the various specimens and devices laid out across his counter. Unsure what this meant (whether he was looking for a certain item, judging his strange collection, or merely just curious), Dwim continued to watch the eyes of his customer to try and understand the hesitation.

    He offered as comforting a smile as he could, so as not to appear suspicious himself.

    When the visitor's response came, a simple request for his name, he was happy to oblige. "Of course, sir," he replied. "My name's Dwim Took." He pointed to the sign atop his market stall, which read:

    Unnatural Selections
    Proprietor: Dwim Took


    "Son of Willum Took," he added. "Local of Tuckborough." Having confirmed that matter, Dwim was now curious himself. "And your name?" he asked in return.

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    NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta: Unnatural Selections

    The secretive customer had not set foot in the Farthings in quite a few years and had left them under something of a cloud. This was one of the reasons he chose to travel under an alias. He'd hoped to adopt a name similar to his own whilst in the Shire, but now that he knew the stall holder's name this was quite obviously out of the question!

    Took, of course the fellow was! Wasn’t everyone in the Shire somehow linked to that esteemed line?

    And, Dwim’s furtive client mused, likely more so now that Peregrin Took had returned to the Shire a head taller and sporting outlandish finery. Folks far and wide would be lining up to pin their pedigree to the cloak tails of Master Pippin’s fame.

    Remember to base any deception on fact, his companion had warned before they parted. Smalls lies have a way of growing into lots of larger ones; before you know it they’ll set a snare for your woolly little feet!

    Good advice, of course, given by a past master in subterfuge, but to mention now to the stall holder that he too was connected to the Took clan seemed foolish. The news that his client might be a relation would turn to long-winded prattling – fine if they were sat in an inn or tavern for a night’s gentle chatter as new friends well met, not so when speed and secrecy was required.

    But what name to give? What name would not lead to talk that took up most of the day, or worse still aroused suspicion?

    As he toiled with this dilemma, Dwim’s customer cast a quick eye over the bustling market place. Relieved that the feather of a sheriff’s cap did not bob over the heads of the crowd, he let his glance wander over the crowded bookshelves behind the proprietor.

    Two of the tomes seized his interest:
    A History of Bree-land (bound in tattered linen), and another covered in splendid green leather, its spine stamped with strange lettering.

    “Well met, Master Dwim of Tuckborough,” he said at last, bowing low at the waist as he tapped his breast with the fingers of his left hand. “I am Timothy, Timothy Rankweed of Bree-hill…”

    Esquire of The Mark
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    Lily was delighted to hear Joel list the variety of seeds he had available, by the sounds of it her garden would look wonderful! "Oh lovely, thank you Joel that sounds perfect - I'll take the pansies, nasturtiums and geraniums today then. Can you eat snap dragons too? " She asked, as she hadn't thought of those and wasn't sure if they would go in a salad or in a vase. "You must stop by and see these in bloom whenever you are passing, I'm just off the road by Frogmorton, along the river. it's a pleasant spot to take some tea, and I always have some cake" she said, grinning."Oh, I just realised, my stall isn't set up yet, would you keep hold of these for a while so I can get set up, then i can put them safely in the footbox on my cart without worrying about them getting lost." she asked hopefully, starting to take out her coins to pay.
    Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

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    Unnatural Selections

    Dwim's head bobbed down, then back up again, as his eyes followed the movements of his customer, who had just given a deep and (seemingly) sincere bow. "Indeed," Dwim replied with a smile. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Timothy."

    "...Rankweed, I'm not sure if I've heard that family name bef..." he stumbled as he said it, quickly realising his words were a risk of causing offence. He hastily made an attempt to correct himself. "But an honourable family it must be, if your dignified and worldly manner is anything to go by." For he was a well-dressed and put-together hobbit.

    Dwim's thoughts suddenly moved to Bree, a town he was more familiar with than most Hobbits of the Shire were. His pursuit of strange and foreign items to add to his inventory brought him there every now and again. "Oh Bree, and The Prancing Pony," he said, expressing his thoughts out loud with a longing sigh. "The thought of that bustling hill, and the warmth of Mr. Butterbur's hospitality, is enough to give me the itch to travel again." For Dwim was adventurous even as far as Tooks were concerned.

    He noticed the visitor glancing at the books on the shelf behind him, which prompted his next question. "But please may I ask, what brings you west of the Brandywine?" It seemed a long way to travel just for books, if that is indeed what he was interested in. He was sure this question would lead back to the matter of what assistance it was that the hobbit was seeking.

    Elven Enchanter
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    Heather Boffin - Knitted Knacks

    Her mouth watered as Lobelia listed all of the tasty treats available at the tea room. "Everything looks delicious. May I have an apple turnover, please?" she asked, as that sounded the tastiest to her hobbit tummy. "And may I have some fresh bread as well?"

    Tasty treats acquired, Heather paid for her goods and padded back to her stall as the market was beginning to fill up. Today was her first time manning a stall, so she hoped that someone would stop by soon. She noticed several different people checking out the Unnatural Selections stall. Of course, oddities would have a certain sense of curiosity to them, but she knew that hobbits still needed normal everyday things, such as hand knitted blankets, tea cosies, and other lovely items.
    Image
    Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

    Chieftain of The Mark
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    NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta AKA Timothy Rankweed: Unnatural Selections

    Rankweed? What was he thinking! It was the Big Folk up Bree-way that went in for herbaceous names, not the Little Ones.

    The furtive customer almost compounded this clanger by slapping himself on the side of the head.

    He undid his neckerchief and mopped his brow as Master Dwim stumbled over the strange surname he’d given. The lad seemed embarrassed, and Timothy breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled warmly as the stall-holder offered a sigh of his own.

    ”Ah, so you are a Travelling Hobbit as well I see, or should I say hear? I assume this is how you’ve managed to come by all these wonderful specimens, baubles and bibelots?

    West of the Brandywine… Bree? No, alas, it is a very long time since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing my old home town. I’ve been away south, you see, down on the coast helping out friends with their fishing boats and business. I hope to travel to Bree tomorrow though, and sit over supper and a pint at The Pony before night falls.”

    Pointing over Dwim’s shoulder, the garish kerchief fluttering like a pennant ‘twixt pinkie and thumb, Timothy turned the conversation from chit-chat to transaction.

    “Might I have a look at that fine green book on your shelf, please? The one sitting alongside A History of Bree-land…”

    New Soul
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    Tari hauled boxes behind her in a wagon. She had her purse over one arm. A cat's head was poking out of it. Her hat was askew and her apron was neon green, her favorite color. She trudged through the lane, crowded with people yanking her wagon behind her. Hauling honey was no easy task. It was heavy. A couple of bees buzzed around the wagon cart, knowing their hard work was being stolen for resale and seeing if they could take any back to the hive. One buzzed up by her face, she waved it away and kept going.

    She approached the market entrance and found a form to fill out about her stall. As a beekeeper, she had loads of honey she tried to sell locally, but for some reason, locals didn't love knocking on grouchy old Tari's door to be greeted with a scowling face and an open hand awaiting payment. She was well known as a grouchy old hobbit lady. She filled out the form and realized she needed a name for the stall. "Bee Vomit," she wrote. Then she crossed it out. "Probably too much for these folks," she muttered to herself as she wrote down a new name.

    Owner: Tari Boffin
    Name of Stall: Bee Vomit Boffin's Beeswax and Honey
    Description of goods or services provided: Raw unfiltered local honey and beeswax products.

    She turned her paper in, left the quill, and headed toward an empty stall to begin setting up.
    she/her

    Farmer
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    Dainty Daisies

    Joel placed the pansies, nasturtium, and geranium seeds on the counter for Lily. He pondered a moment on her question about eating the snapdragon heads.

    "You know, I never thought to try that. I just like how they look in the garden, a nice piece of decoration with excellent flash of color. I don't suppose it would be too harmful to do, but they just look so exquisite that I couldn't bring myself to do so!" He had a few on display behind him which he pointed out - some had begun to blossom into purples, some yellow, and even a deep, dark red one. He really loved how they looked, but as he had said, he just couldn't bring himself to try to eat one of them. He turned back and nodded to her as she said he would have to stop by and look at her garden, especially with the new additions once they grow. "Oh yes, I would be delighted! I do love seeing what others have done with their gardens! Some of my best ideas come from seeing what others have done. And the hospitality of others is always so quaint and appreciated! Why, I always make sure to have a kettle on at all times, and some biscuits cooling just in case someone happens to drop by for a visit."

    He nodded as she asked if he could hold the products while she tended her stall. "No problem at all! I should also stop by and visit your stall, but I am fancying a brief stop over at that Tearoom across the way first. Not to worry, your purchases will be safe. Oh, and these all come out to just one copper." He had noticed her fumbling through her coins to pay. In truth, seeds weren't costly at all - being so many and all. They were truly a good bargain!

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    "Thank you so much Joel. You are right" she said, seeing the blooming snapdragons behind him "they are beautiful, I can see why you love them, they must be stunning in a garden. But these will look lovely too" and she indicated the seeds on the counter. "And thank you for looking after them for me. I hope you enjoy your visit to the tea room, I have to say that sounds like a lovely idea. Maybe I'll pop over too when I'm all set up." she grinned. "See you later when I collect the seeds" and Lily waved goodbye, leaving her copper on the counter as payment,

    Skipping over the marketplace to where she had left her cart, she wondered if it would rain today - it smelled like rain. Perhaps she should bring a few coverings over to her stall in case. She loaded up a couple of canvas sacks with table cloths, bunting and other bits and pieces to decorate the stall, and three crates of fruit and jars. Clutching the drawstrings of the sacks in her palms she stacked up the crates and begun carry them over to her new stall. She was quite puffed out when she got to the stall, and wished she had brought her three-legged stall over too...not that she could have carried it!

    Perfect Plums: Produce, Pickles and Preserves

    Recovering her breath she started unpacking. First, bright yellow and red table cloths were spread across the tables. Next, matching bunting was strung across any surface that would support it. Taking out a wooden board and some chalk she wrote "Perfect Plums: Produce, Pickles and Preserves" and propped it up with a stone. Finally she started unloading the produces; first red and green apples, pears and quince were lined up, followed by plums, peaches, apricots and greengages. She set out jars containing a huge selection of jams (raspberry, strawberry, black currant, cherry, apricot, blackberry, plum and rhubarb with ginger) and pickles (tomato pickle, dill pickle, pickled walnuts, pickled onions, tomato and chill chutney, red onion chutney, spiced pear chutney) and then a selection of preserved fruits (pickled lemons, peaches in syrup, cherries in juice. pears in syrup) and along the back of the table she arranged bunches of ruby stemmed rhubarb.

    Something was missing....she tapped her foot as she thought...."Berries!" she yelled, and ran back to the cart, returning with another two crates, which contained baskets of ripe strawberries, raspberries, cherries, gooseberries, cranberries, blackberries and red, white and black currants. "There, all set" she said happily, looking around at all the lovely produce.
    Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

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    NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta AKA Timothy Rankweed: Unnatural Selections:

    As he waited, Dwim’s furtive customer peered intently at the bookshelf and a queer sense of unease and anticipation fell upon him. Could the book really be what he thought it was? Would the man he sought have given up something so precious?

    A light drumming sound broke his musing. Gazing down he finds the digits of his podgy left hand tapping a staccato pattern upon the counter top. It was an irritating and extremely rude thing to do, something not practised by a well-mannered hobbit. With an effort he stilled his fidgeting and made a show of neatly folding his kerchief before placing it carefully in the breast pocket of his wes’kit.

    The day moves on, he thought, noticing the shadows lengthening behind the specimens on the counter. What’s this?

    Again that creeping sense of disquiet and expectation fell upon him, for there (amongst the snagged goblin-teeth and tacky taxidermy) was something bright and beautiful. Timothy’s hand crept carefully over the more revolting wares and settled upon a small metal box.

    A sign escaped his pursed lips. It can’t be – surely not!

    He lifted the object carefully and held it up for closer inspection. At first glance it looked like any other metal tin – one that a hobbit-maid might keep small trinkets in, or a gammer stamps for postage – but as the light caught the lid, the hobbit saw it was finely filigreed and embossed with a small rune.

    Timothy was a hobbit well versed in letters, in fact he took particular pride in his skill of reading and recording everything from Elvish to Westron, but this letter bore no resemblance to anything he’d seen before.

    And yet he found he COULD read it:

    C the symbol, which looked something like a leaping dolphin, announced.

    “Bless me!” the hobbit breathed, setting a thumbnail to the tiny clasp. Don’t open it! Don’t you dare!

    But the compulsion was too strong to resist. The clasp gave way with little effort and the contents, utterly more alarming than any of Dwim’s artefacts, fluttered in the hobbit’s panted breaths. Two pieces of vellum, no larger than postage stamps, lay within the box. Each had been cut with neat precision from their dead hosts and bore, in faded blue ink, crude images that resembled barrows.

    Timothy snapped the box shut, teetered on unsteady legs and stumbled away from the counter. An upturned keg – another display area for Dwim, or a seat for a tired customer? – blocked his way. Grabbing frantically for purchase, Timothy pitched forward with a shrill cry.

    THOCK! The top of the stout oak firkin caught him above the right eyebrow, rendering him senseless as he fell to the ground.

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    Unnatural Selections

    Hearing his customer's news, Dwim thought to himself that it was strange for a hobbit to be so well travelled. He himself did not know what lay south, nor what the coast looked like. He couldn't recall hearing any detailed stories about it either. He made a mental note to remind himself, the next time he was in Bree, to inquire further. For the coast sounded like a strange and daunting place. And if there was anywhere he could find a traveller willing to tell such stories, it would be in that town.

    The conversation quickly turned to business, or curiosity as it may have been, as Timothy asked to have a look at one of his books. "Certainly, Mr. Rankweed," replied Dwim, turning without fuss and reaching for the green leather-bound book that his customer had asked for. He opened the book to admire it briefly as he turned back to the counter. The book's title, which ran down the spine in strange lettering, was "The Arts of Prophecy". On the front of its green cover were a collection of arcane looking symbols among illustrated stars. He clapped the book shut again to place on the counter for his customer to look at. But before he could do so, a startling accident occurred in front of him.

    Timothy had stumbled backwards all of a sudden. Dwim watched with wide-eyed alert. He had not seen him peeking at that small, blackened silver box, and was unaware that a sight of its contents had prompted this scene. Timothy tried to use the keg for support, and instead managed to make things worse by clocking himself in the head as it became unbalanced. Dwim's face went from wide-eyed alert to sheer horror, and an overwhelming yet familiar feeling of dread seemed to come over him. This feeling of dread was only in part due to the concerning accident that had just played out. The other part was because Timothy had just disturbed an artefact which had belonged to the Wights of the Barrow-downs.

    Dwim suddenly felt cold, and it was as if a dark cloud had lowered itself over his stall. Yet he did not know why. He shivered briefly, before jumping around the counter to assist his injured customer. As he did so, he saw the box open on the floor and came to a sudden realisation of what had happened. Where were the contents? He worried about that, but he worried more about the health of the stunned hobbit on the ground before him.

    Farmer
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    Image

    The skies had been clouding up throughout the morning, and the wind picking up, carrying that familiar scent of fresh air that only heralded one thing: rain was coming.

    Soon enough, little pitter-patter of drops could be heard on the stones in the market square, and became quite quickly a shower. It was one of those showers that could only last a few moments, but it could also go on all day. It didn't matter to the hobbits. Stall owners had been prepared, and little hobbit children began splashing around in the now-forming puddles. How would the visitors cope, though?

    Esquire of The Mark
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    Perfect Plums: Produce, Pickles and Preserves

    Lily had barely finished putting the finishing touches to her stall for a few minutes when the heavens opened. She took in a deep breath, absorbing the wonderful smell of fresh rain on dry ground - nothing could beat that smell...well maybe fresh baked bread..or spiced cake...but it was very close to being the best smell you could smell. Then a thought struck her - she had brought some waxed canvas coverings for just in case it rained, she had better use them. The fresh fruit would be ok, in fact the rain might make them look even more appetising, but the labels on the preserves would be sure to run if they got too wet, and her little chalkboard sign wouldn't last long either. Fishing around in the crates she found two squares of waxed canvas, in matching bright colours to the table cloths and bunting, and settled them over the stacks of jars. Hopefully if anyone wanted to buy a pickle or preserve they would ask her, or take a peek themselves.

    Lily meanwhile turned her face up to the sky and let the gentle rain fall onto her hair and skin - so refreshing!
    Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

    Chieftain of The Mark
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    NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta AKA Timothy Rankweed: Unnatural Selections:

    Dwim's customer lies sprawled upon the grass, oblivious to the sudden, sharp rain shower - dead to the world it seems. But, his eyelids flutter rapidly and within some recess of his mind he is...


    Riding with Prunela. Their troubles in the Shire are behind them; the day is fine and bright as they journey through the Chetwood. They are laughing and chattering excitedly, a new home and life lie before them. Then everything changes.

    Two men step from the trees: one sports a cloak of extravagant cut and cloth; the other a well-tailored three-pieced suit. Despite their respectable attire Timothy knows at once that they mean no good. Cloak-man has a nasty looking dagger clenched in each of his hands; his companion holds what looks like a walking staff, albeit one topped with a wicked looking iron spike.

    "Rein in Mr and Mrs!" a harsh voice calls from behind. "Do as I say and we'll make this quick and painless." Timothy gazes over a trembling shoulder. A tall old fellow leans against a beech, a sword - almost as tall as a hobbit - rests upon his bony hip.

    Before Timothy can process what has befallen them Prunela, ever impulsive and decisive, acts.

    "Ride, love!" she yells, and spurs her pony forward.

    Cloak-man is bowled over by her sudden rush, but the man in the dark suit steps neatly aside. Timothy, frozen in the saddle, gawps as this fellow takes up a pose as casual as a dart player at The Dragon. His arm blurs, a javelin flies down the pathway and Prunela is thrown from her mount.

    "Oh, no!" Timothy howls as his bride twitches in the leaf mould like a broken bird.

    Cloak-man laughs heartily, an ugly sound like the braying of a donkey, and advances with his companion towards the startled hobbit. And still Timothy is transfixed; his eyes dart between the quivering spear that protrudes from Prunela’s back and the cruel weapons in their assailants' hands.

    "She ruined my cloak," Donkey-brayer snarls. "Get him down and make him pay!"
    "Quit your puling, Feor," the old man calls from behind the hobbit. "Fix him, Ræd! Fix the little rat quick, we've been on the road far too long."

    Feor, Donkey-brayer if it please you, and Ræd step forward smartly. Timothy takes in the crude blue-inked design etched into the skin between the thumbs and forefingers of the men's hands - a barrow and not one of the gardening kind! – and waits for doom to fall.

    ”Nay, nay, nay - this will not do!” a new voice rings out under the trees, stopping the brigands dead in their tracks. “I cannot allow it, not on such a fair afternoon, not even if it were sousing on your fool heads. Nope, I would if I could, but I simply cannot. The sight of such violence in a fair wood makes my mind quail… Absolutely KUHHH-WHAIL!”

    A tall, slightly built man - a boy surely, a lad not out of his tweens – stands beside Prunela’s broken body. His clothes save for a shirt of deepest red, are worn and unremarkable. No weapons hang from his slim hips, but a sling-shot twirls lazily in his right hand.

    ”Away snot!” Prunela’s killer growls: “Away home to mammy with your babbie-toy ‘fore we slay thee,”
    Feor bawls another peal of awful laughter: “Fix him, Ræd, I’ll do the Shireli…”

    But Ræd is no more; he lies twitching on the path with a tiny hole punched in the centre of his forehead.

    ”Now, now mister,” Feor wheedles as the stranger reloads and advances up the path. “Cry yer pardon, mister! We have no business or quarrel with you…”

    ”Ah, but that’s where you are very much mistaken," the stranger smiles. "You do have a quarrel with me… Or, put more precisely, with my din. Aye, you’ve been my business since you and your tet rode out of Hambry. And, even if that were not the case, robbers and murderers, wherever I find them, are very much my business.”

    Timothy’s rescuer moseys closer, sling-shot whirling languidly in his hand. A bird skull (a rook's perhaps?) bobs on a cord around his neck.

    “Quarter! Give me quarter!” Feor shrieks, tossing his knives to the ground.

    ”No quarter, cull – none for those who have forgotten the faces of their fathers!”

    The lad’s second shot flies sudden, swift and sure. Feor steps up on tippy-toe, tottering and teetering as if he’s been punched hard under the jaw. The folds of his extravagantly tailored cloak billow and flutter as his corpse crashes to the ground like a felled tree.

    “Oh, my goodness!” Timothy squeaks, as the world spins suddenly about his little head. A terrible pounding fills his chest as he pitches from his pony and sprawls hard upon the track. He tries to rise, marks the limping retreat of the harriers' leader, then everything goes black.

    He wakes with a terrible headache and a thirst such as he has never known before. He is lying on his side, knees drawn up under his chin - someone has thrown a blanket over him. Close by his rescuer hunkers on the forest track; the booted feet of the dead outlaws lie just beyond him. One set of boots rock gently as the lad takes up a lifeless hand. Timothy sees the flash of a thin blade in the gloom and watches in horrid fascination as the lad turns and places a flap of skin into a small silver box balanced on his knee.

    "Awake are we?" the lad grins, swapping the knife for a small leather pouch. The hobbit turns his head as the fellow begins sprinkling fine white powder into the little tin. He closes his eyes, as shivers rack his portly frame, and tries to unimagine the appalling horrors he’s just witnessed.

    Robbers, sudden violent death, trophy gathering – Prunela dead! Surely this is all a dream? Surely this can’t be true?

    He feels a light touch on his forehead. A hand shakes his shoulder gently. ”Wake ye, little master. Wake ye, now – you are safe.”

    Timothy, too afraid to look into the face that he knows leans in close over his own, keeps his eyes screwed shut.

    “What can I get you, little master?" The voice, like the lad with sling-shot's, is strangely accented, but the hobbit finds he understands it well enough. "What can I offer to ease your pain, sai-Hoblyta?”

    “Ters… tee,” the hobbit peeps at last. “So thirsty… Lem… nade…


    Timothy eyes open and focus on Dwim’s anxious face. "A glass of cool lemonade and a seed cake, please,” he squeaks.

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    Unnatural Selections

    Dwim knelt down beside his comatose customer as a number of market visitors and stall-holders started gathering around the scene in curiosity and concern. That was quite a nasty whack to the head he'd taken. The hobbit's eyelids were fluttering, and Dwim knew he was asleep and dreaming, most likely in another land altogether. He realised it was perhaps going to be some time before the patient awoke. Well I'd better at least make him comfortable then, he thought to himself. He reached to the upturned keg and grabbed the blanket which had previously been laid out on its top. He rolled it into a bundle and placed it carefully under Timothy's head.

    As he lifted the hobbit's head, his eyes widened as he spotted the small patch of skin which had escaped the small, silver box. He snatched it up carefully and hoped no one was watching as he put it back in its place and closed the lid. He quickly went it to his shop and stashed it away so it was no longer on display, then returned.

    "Somebody get some water for him, please!" he said towards the onlookers. There were some comments in agreement, and one hobbit lass dashed away to do as requested.

    Soon Timothy was showing signs of waking, and when the lass returned with a pitcher of water, Dwim took it from her in preparation. But when the patient awoke, the first thing he asked for was some lemonade and seed cake. Dwim smiled and remarked, "Ah, well I see you are okay then, Mr. Rankweed." For he could not have made a more sensible request. To the same lass as before, he gave a couple of coins and sent her off to fetch the required refreshments.

    When she returned again after a few minutes, Dwim let her attend to the hobbit and deliver the requested cake and drink. Suspecting that Timothy may have been a bit startled by what he'd found before falling, if he even remembered anything at all, he decided he would address the matter soon. "Once you're recovered, I'll explain what you came across, but before then we must get out of the rain. Up you get, come under my shop tent, it'll be dry and warm in there." He offered a hand to help him up as the sudden downpour began to get heavier, his own black hair falling heavily over his eyes as it started to get drenched.

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    Unnatural Selections: NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta AKA Timothy Rankweed:

    As Dwim sent a hobbit-maid scurrying to the refreshment stand, Timothy allowed himself a moment to recover from his shock and injury. The latter was the least of the two (a lump above his right brow and no blood shed) the former was another matter entirely. He remained upon the ground as the rain began to pelt down harder, and mused over how the stall-holder had come by such an unlikely treasure.

    His rescuer from a long ago when, the lad who he knew as Arthur, would not have parted with the silver keepsake save in the direst of needs... And that begged another question: how grim was his friend’s predicament – had he started to take drink again?

    The hobbit’s musing was broken by the arrival of seed cake and lemonade. His nose twitched as he lay awhile longer and admired the shapely ankles of the returning hobbit-maid. At last he reached up, took Dwim’s hand and followed him under the drumming roof of the stall.

    “Thank you, master Dwim,” Timothy said, seating himself on the keg by the counter. “I am in your debt, sir – and doubly so it would seem. I ask your pardon for my clumsiness, and thank you for your kindness.”

    As he spoke, the hobbit retrieved a slim bladed knife from his waistband; the blade was honed to a wicked sharpness on both edges, and made for an unlikely, but highly effective cake-slice. With a deft hand he neatly quartered the seed cake, eyeing Dwim carefully as he returned the blade to its scabbard.

    The stallholder's actions during the unfortunate incident had been admirable – specifically the voice of calm authority he had used to disperse lolly-gaggers and summons the aid he required. Yes, there was something about the chap, something that the unusual collection of merchandise had hinted at earlier. But how much to tell him – how much to entrust?

    ”Have some cake,” Timothy said, wiping crumbs from his chin. “It's quite delicious, and just the thing to share between two fellows well met, and about to begin a transaction…

    Where’s the little trinket box gone to, then? I thought I’d slipped it into a wes’kit pocket as I fell? How came you by it, Dwim? Can you describe the person who sold it to you?”
    - he hath not forgotten Image the face of his fathers -

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    Lobliea Brindleway - Time for tea and cake tea room

    In came a friendly hobbit called Heather Boffin, she recognised her from the stall knitted knacks and hoped to pop by there at some point.

    She asked for an apple turnover when she had approached the counter and told her everything looked delicious. And even wanted some fresh bread.
    'Certainly dear, those apple turnovers are my favourite. Here we go.' as she took one off a plate and wrapped it in a cloth. Then she proceeded to get the lovely hobbit some fresh bread.

    With the hobbit having given her the money for her goods and took off. Lobelia started clearing the tables of cutlery and wiped up the crumbs with her cloth. Her tea room was going well she thought.
    Her mother (Donnamira) was busy kneading and baking some loaves of bread. Then Lobelia started doing abit of moping before some other customers come along.
    She might ask her mother to keep an eye on everything for a while so she could venture out and take a look at some of the stalls specially the knitted knacks stall, see if she can find a nice little gift for her best friend Rose.

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    The Writing Quill

    Just as Istya was setting up, Eldor heard some raindrops start to fall on the cart. Looking at Istya, Eldor was grinning, “Istya, it’s finally starting to rain again!” Eldor was lost looking at the sky as the rain was falling. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a shower this intense!” Looking into the distance Eldor saw some little hobbit children playing in the rain, just having a great time. With glee, and losing himself in the moment, Eldor ran and joined the children playing in the rain puddles.

    Eldor being much taller than the hobbit children, they were startled a little but seeing the warm look on his face, they started to understand – Eldor was just like them, just quite a bit bigger. The children and Eldor had a grand time. Eldor looked back at Istya, just seeing a smile on her face, Eldor felt so blessed to be able to do this eventually with his own child in future. Istya gave Eldor the head motion which read – “come on honey, it’s time to get to work.” And after just a few more moments with the children, Eldor gave them all high-fives and went back to Istya.

    “Hey, Honey!”, Eldor said, “Where do you need me?” Istya pointed to one of the customers. Eldor went back to helping the customers and fulfilling requests for orders. Overall, it was a great time learning the new family business and starting to get more comfortable with the locals.

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    Bee Vomit Boffin's Beeswax and Honey

    After Tari had filled out her paperwork for her market stall she began trudging all the way to the other side of the market stalls. Boffin's Beeswax and Honey was going to be on the very end. As she pulled her wagon full of boxes behind her she began to hear the small drops of rain falling on the road, then it turned into a gush of rain and, naturally, she was drenched in moments. Although the other stall owners were prepared, she hadn't gotten to her stall yet and didn't have an umbrella on hand. She couldn't carry one anyway with all the other things she was carrying into the market. She rushed to her stall as fast as an old lady hobbit could and took cover under the small roof. Her boxes sat in the rain and her curly hobbit hair was unraveling and dripping into her face. She looked grouchy. She wrung out her skirts and neon green apron to get as much water out as possible, before attempting to quickly unpack her boxes under the dry roof of her stall.
    she/her

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    The Writing Quill

    When she noticed her husband Eldor had gone off to play in the rain and its growing puddles around the stall with the gathering hobbit children, Istya let out a little laugh and in the meantime set to work on organizing the ink bottles by color at the very front of the stall. She did notice a couple of potential customers glancing toward her stall - but no one biting - that she began to think about what her set-up might need to officially get the customers.

    But as her mind turned and turned on that, she noticed other stalls getting set up around her. So she signaled to her husband then, and she encouraged him to go right behind the stall with her so that customers could see they were ready for marketing and selling.

    She dug around in a few of the bags that Eldor had brought with him to help her set up the stall, and that's when it hit her. "Of course!" she said out loud to herself, as she brought out smaller signs and notes that were meant to be put up with the merchandise. "Oh, I am so silly. Pregnancy brain is definitely getting to me. Would you mind showing me the parchments, stack by stack? I will give you the signs that describe where each of them are from. I already see one stack that is parchment from the royal halls of Meduseld right there, hand-picked by Eowyn herself. And here is another sign for Denethor's preferred choice of parchment ... from before he passed."

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    Heather Boffin - Knitted Knacks

    Soon after returning to her stall with the procured treats, the sky grew cloudy and it began to rain. Heather quickly placed her treat down and moved a few of her display items further under the protection of the stall cover. It wouldn't do for knitted goods to get wet in the rain. She couldn't tell if the rain would be the sort that merely lasted a few minutes or if it would rain the rest of the day. If just a few minutes, she could easily wait it out, but if the rain was the sort to go all day, Heather wished she were at home in her hobbit hole with a cup of hot tea. Rainy days were meant to be spent inside with tea, good friends, and perhaps a book.

    She looked around and saw a few hobbit children (and an adult Eldor) running about in the rain and splashing in the puddles as they started to form. It was such a delight to watch the young ones enjoy the simple things in life to such an extreme. Hobbits always loved the simple things, but the children even more.
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    Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

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    Shirriff Bingo Took
    Amalda Goodbody


    Amalda made her happy way between the stalls. Though she had served in the past as the head of the Shire Walking Club, an old and respected position, though her enthusiasm about sleeping under the stars and having "adventures" hinted at her Tookish streak, a gift from her mother, at times it seemed she preferred skipping to walking. Head of the Skipping Club, her neighbors nicknamed her fondly; they shook their heads at some of her strange habits, the chief one being traveling, but as she was always very polite and generally "such an excitable little fellow", they forgave her. Amalda was a good neighbor, especially when it came to mushrooms. Her parents had a mushroom farm, and she always kept some of the best kinds in her tidy little hobbit hole's garden. When they were ripe, and their wonderful smell hopped down from hole to hole in Mushroom Lane, Michel Delving, the neighbors suddenly remembered they had very urgent matters to discuss with Amalda, and she welcomed them with a knowing grin and plates full of delightfully delicious mushrooms, and they declared them the best they've ever eaten. (Each year, they marveled, they get better and better! We wonder, they added meaningfully, whether next year we'll also have a taste of such excellent mushrooms...)

    Leading the way was Amalda's usual companion and expert navigator. He was large, grey and perhaps, in his family's distant past, a descendant of northern wolves from the cold winters of the elder days; he bore the name "Brandy" with remarkable generosity, considering it was simply a shortened version of the river on the bank of which he was found by Amalda. He was also fond of squirrels, particularly of the swift kind that climbed quickly out of reach but remained carefully within sight, in the exact way to provide lasting entertainment for the dog and serious headaches for the neighbors.

    Brandy was barking joyfully, and Amalda was relieved to see the object was not a furry little animal but rather the shop she'd asked him to look for. "Wonderful," she exclaimed, reading the sign that declared this to be the "Time for Tea and Cake Tearoom". "This has to be a great bakery with some great warm tea to drink - Bingo?" This last was because she had turned around and suddenly realized she was talking only to a few birds who idly pecked away at crumbs. "Now where did he go to?" She muttered, looking around with a puzzled expression. As much as she liked her cousin, there were certain downsides to his job as Second Shirriff of the Shire, and the active head of the Watch (Mayor Whitfoot, officially also the First Shirriff of the Watch, wasn't quite the type to deal with such matters himself). The bustling market of Michel Delving was crowded with people who called his name, or tried to shake his hand, or made a great show of completely avoiding him. Unlike Amalda, Shirriff Bingo Took was very clearly a Took. He was bold, a born leader, square-shouldered and determined, with a jaw you could crack nuts on. His curly brown hair was covered with a wide-brimmed hat boasting a marvelous blue feather, the only sign of his rank; his eyes were alert and watchful, his famously unsmiling lips tight around his short pipe.

    "Why smile," joked a hobbit who passed by, "When every day a host of wolves could invade the Shire?"

    Bingo nodded grimly in agreement. Wolves or worse, he thought. Things were becoming quite strange in the Wide World, and more and more Bounders were needed to watch the borders.

    An elderly hobbit stopped to say hello. Bingo, ever serious though courteous, greeted her by name. Her had an exceptional memory for names and family relations, some things many hobbits valued very highly.

    As he continued, absent mindedly following his cousin, a stall caught his eye. He stopped and puffed thoughtfully on his pipe as he examined the sign: "Unnatural Selections". There was certainly something unnatural about the variety of items offered on sale. "You be the owner?" His words billowed with a small cloud of smoke. They must be distant relatives, he assumed, though he was forced to admit he did not immediately recognize the name. "Master Took?" He added as an afterthought. Then, "I'm Shirriff Bingo Took, and this," he glanced at his cheerful cousin who joined them with her dog, "is Amalda Goodbody. What is it that you're selling?"

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    Unnatural Selections

    Dwim gladly accepted a piece of cake from Timothy, also taking a drink of water for himself, as the sight of his customer's lemonade had made him quite thirsty too. It had been quite the exhausting event, what had just happened, and he was glad for a moment to pause with some refreshments. After a mouthful of cake he prepared himself to answer the question he'd been presented with.

    The trinket box. Dwim was wondering if the knock to the head would have made Timothy forget about it, but it was not to be. "The box?" he replied vaguely, unwilling for now to reveal where he'd put it. "Hmm, well I put it away, somewhere over here." The next question was how he'd come by it, which was a fair enough question. But the one after that, about who had sold it to him, seemed quite specific and piqued his curiosity about what this box (and its strange contents) meant to his customer.

    "Have you seen something like this before?" he asked. "It came to me in Bree. I am not sure what it's worth money-wise, but I am a trader you see, so I traded for it - with a collector of crystals. He had a great desire for a spectacular fuchsia crystal I had, which had been sold to me by a dwarf from the Blue Mountains." He paused for another bite of cake before returning to his explanation. "But this box and the pieces of vellum inside were of far greater interest to me. The man who traded it to me, well he is from Bree like yourself. A fellow with a limp... wears an odd sort of bowler hat. I've only ever known him as Woodberry. Have you heard of him?"

    Dwim was not completely sure how much he should reveal about the item itself, but he was proud of his collection, and he gave in to the temptation to talk about one of his pieces. "I believe the little patches might be horse skin. I'm a taxidermist you see, and that's the sense I get. Strange thing that, but from what I know, believe it you may not... these have been marked by Barrow-wights, if you've ever heard about them." He left it at that for now, unsure of whether his customer would still be interested, or rather just outraged.

    Dwim's attention then suddenly turned as a new customer (Bingo) approached. The rain had slowed down to a sprinkle, so market-goers were starting to get around again. "Apologies, Mr. Rankweed, I won't be a moment," he said to the hobbit under his tarp as he got up to greet his new customer.

    "Yes, sir, I am the owner," Dwim said with a smile and a nod, noticing the blue feather on his hat. "A pleasure to meet you, Shirriff Bingo, and you too, Ms. Goodbody."

    He'd had a shirriff question him before about some suspicious items in his collection, and wondered if it was about to happen again. But the shirriff's manner was friendly enough and Dwim did not feel uncomfortable. "I'm selling all sorts wonderful things, actually," he informed him. "If you're the curious kind, I have plenty of things sure to catch your curiosity!" He gestured to the counter between them, and then the makeshift shelves behind him. "As you can see, there is lots to look at. I have taxidermy specimens, trinkets, potions. Books, maps and collectables, the lot. But perhaps a distinguished member of the Watch like yourself might be interested in my collection of weapons, some decorative, some useful." He pointed to a table laid out with old and fancy daggers and pocket knives, even a couple of bows. "Or perhaps for you, Ms. Goodbody, some elvish jewellery..."

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    Unnatural Selections: NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta AKA Timothy Rankweed:

    Dwim took a while to answer Timothy’s questions. He was not so slow at taking up and offer of a slice of cake though, the furtive hobbit noted. The rain began to ease, silence filled the little tent, and Timothy found himself growing ever more impatient.

    “Unnatural Selections.” he’d found this a strange, and disquieting name for stall, and now one more apt popped into his head: “Needful Things!” A sudden savage urge to have the silver trinket box flared in his breast. It took every ounce of his resolve to stop himself springing over the counter, taking Dwim by the shoulders and shaking the truth from him.

    And then, at last, the lad spoke.

    Timothy gawped as the stall-holder trotted out a lengthy tale, his eyes widening with each new twist and turn. Was the fellow trying to fleece him? Was this a sales-pitch to draw him in and milk him dry? No! The lad was odd – his collection of goods announced that clearly enough! – but Timothy guessed, like all hobbits, he was incapable of cunning or malice.

    He heard the stall-holder out, taking careful consideration of the description and name of the Bree-lander. Woodberry? Was this a truth, or a ruse to trip him up? Of course Timothy hadn’t been in Bree in ages, and he’d certainly never made the acquaintance of anyone named Woodberry. How to answer? And as for Dwim’s knowledge of taxidermy, well, he was less learned than he thought if he couldn’t tell horse from Man-skin…

    Timothy took his purse from his wes’kit and leant across the counter. “Master Dwim, I would make you…” His voice trailed off as two hobbits (Shirriff Bingo Took & Amalda Goodbody @Nolewen) entered the tent. His eyes bulged as he noticed the blue feather in the portly shirriff’s cap.

    Turning his back on the new arrivals, he sat quietly, his heart hammering as Dwim greeted the pair.

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    Shirriff Bingo Took
    Amalda Goodbody
    Brandy (The Dog)
    Unnatural Selections


    There was a merry drizzle (for Amalda) or a raging storm (for Bingo) outside the tent. As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, Bingo noticed several things at once: first, he was not the only customer; secondly, the other customer had a nasty bump on his head; and thirdly, the owner had just mentioned the Barrow-wights. An unpleasant feeling crept upon him, and he was only vaguely aware that Amalda was trying to catch his attention.

    "Yes?"

    She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "That lady there, Cousin Bingo, in the stall just yonder: she says something strange happened here a moment before we arrived."

    "Does she, now?"

    "She says that fellow over there just fell over, after touching something. She couldn't quite see, but she thinks it may have been a box of sorts."

    Bingo gave a huff, and was about to continue questioning her when she took notice of the stall-owner's words. "Barrow-wights, sir! Bless my head! You must be joking!"

    "So he must," he said, suddenly wishing to get his cheery cousin out of this strange stall. "I say, Amalda, it's getting quite cold. You were looking for some cake and tea, right? Go ahead and order something for me as well. I'll only be a moment."

    Amalda considered arguing, her Tookish side beginning to get rather intrigued, but she was no fool. If Bingo told her to go, he was expecting trouble; and she was not going to act against a shirriff's direct orders, even if the shirriff in question was her own cousin. She retreated out into the rain, opening her mouth to call Brandy after her but changing her mind at the last moment. Inclining her head in the Shirriff's direction, she caught the dog's eye and felt reassured at his understanding. She went to look for the "Time for Cake and Tea Tearoom" she'd come upon earlier, hoping everything will get sorted out quickly and safely, and leaving her dog with her cousin.

    Bingo inspected the stall's contents with a sharp eye and a sharper mind. Those Warg teeth? Asked his inner Took. They're quite cool.

    Fake, replied the Brandybuck dismissively.

    What's that he said about Barrow-wights? The Took wondered excitedly. Something about skin patches. And Amalda mentioned a box. That's a really nasty bruise he's got there. I wonder how. He fell? Did he fall because of that box?

    "Hmm?" Dwim was saying something about books and potions. "Quite an impressive collection you've got there, sir." He glanced at the weapons table. "I'll be the first to admit you don't usually find weapons in the Shire markets," he added, "or in the Shire in general, other than those kept at the Mathom House." And in Watch Houses, he thought inwardly, but that should not be common knowledge.

    "However, I should very much like to hear about that object you just mentioned," taking a careful guess, he said, "The box you bought at Bree. The one marked by Barrow-wights."

    Bingo was not sure whether such creatures existed. Most hobbits didn't travel too far from home, and fewer still have ever left the Shire. Bingo had been outside its borders twice. Once he'd gone into the Old Forest with a few Brandybuck relatives, and he did not like it at all. There, in the midst of the stifling trees, when they pointed out the infamous hills from afar, he'd been ready to take their word for everything. Barrow-wights seemed like a very reasonable suggestion; and Wargs and trolls too. Now, though, in the safe Shire, he wasn't prepared to trust Dwim's word so quickly, despite the sense that the Took was a good lad.

    It's good lads that do all the trouble, his old mentor's voice floated from the mists of time and memory. They wreak all kinds of havoc before realizing it's them that doing it. Old Shirriff Overhill was a gaunt fellow whose face was always obscured in a cloud of smoke in Bingo's memory. He took Bingo under his care when he first came to the Watch, a young and excited lad, and taught him everything he knew about hobbits, weapons, pipeweed, and cows. Bingo recently found himself missing him quite often.

    "And what might your name be, sir?" He turned suddenly to the hobbit (Timothy Rankweed) who, he'd noticed, had turned away abruptly upon seeing his feathered cap.

    Amalda Goodbody
    Time for Tea and Cake Tearoom


    "Hullo!" Amalda teetered at the entrance to the Tearoom. She was drenched, and the floor looked like it had just been cleaned. "Oh," she breathed in deeply, her face lighting up with delight. "The smell!" It was indeed wonderful, warm, homely, and delicious. "I am looking for some cake and tea, but I know I won't be able to choose out of all those great options. Which ones do you think best?"

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    Unnatural Selections: NPC: Onhæle Hoblyta AKA Timothy Rankweed:

    The hobbit who travelled in the guise of Timothy Rankweed, sat quietly as @Dwim and his new customers engaged in pleasantries and general chit-chat. But, once the shirriff (Bingo Took @Nolewen) sent his companion off to the Tearoom, the conversation turned to more uncomfortable matters.

    The furtive hobbit had a sudden urge to leap up and flee. Breathe in and relax, hold your position no matter what, Ælfred the One-Eyed’s voice sounded in his head. Observe, process - then act! Timothy took a deep breath and thrust all thought of Barrows, silver boxes and trophies from his little head

    Across the counter, standing a little off centre in the jumble of Dwim’s assorted oddities, Timothy spied something to turn to his advantage, a vambrace, similar to one he’d seen the tall soldiery of Gondor wear, but lined with mangy matted fur. The piece of armour has not been polished for a long time, but Timothy found, if he turned just so, it acted like a looking glass and gave him a view over his shoulder.

    He’d seen many lawmen in his time on the road with Aodh and his harriers. Most were grizzled oldsters, eking out their last days in districts where peace and quiet were the norm, or fellows grown fat as they lounged in a rocker on the stoop of a small jail in some back-water burgh.

    Arthur has warned him never to underestimate local law enforcers: look out for that flinty glint in their eye, never forget they carry a badge that was earned..

    Yes, Timothy had learned, sometimes the hard way, that old, fat and lazy often hid cunning, strength and speed. And that taking someone at face value could land you in a heap of... trouble.

    Before he had time to make a full appraisal of this shirriff, the chap addressed him. Timothy turned, heart beating. The shirriff’s face seemed pleasant and welcoming, but his eyes were bright and alert.

    “Timothy,” he replied, tapping the base of his throat, before absently rubbing at the bump above his brow. “Timothy Rankweed out of Bree-land, sir.”

    Orc
    Points: 138 
    Posts: 30
    Joined: Wed Jul 01, 2020 2:26 am
    Owner: Faramond Undertree
    Name of Stall: Lost Cheese
    Description of goods or services provided: Every sort of cheese the Shire has to offer. Also a few dairy items that would probably sell better outside the Shire, if we are being completely honest. Everything is handmade by Mr Faramond Undertree and his handful of shop workers. The Dairy is locally sourced. The staff are not...

    The unmarked goat-drawn cart slowly made it's way into the Michael Delving Market. It was late in the day. Mr Undertree was at the reins. Rumor had it that the old hobbit had a tiny troupe of kobalds from the hills working his cheese shop. Others said it was East Farthingers. But nobody pried too deeply into Mr Undertrees personal life or his business. Mr Undertree preferred to be left alone to his pipeweed and his cheese shop much of the time. But the Market was different.

    The Michael Delving Market was Mr Underfoots opportunity to submerge himself in the hustle and bustle of everyday Shire life. the noise of the farm animals. The chaos of children chasing each other through and between stalls. The barter. It was true that Mr Undertree never got much business here. Much of his cheese better matched the taste of the outsiders to the east. But he always looked forward to his quarter-yearly visit to the Market anyway.

    “Timothy,” Faramond heard a strange voice coming from the new Unnatural Selections stall say. “Timothy Rankweed out of Bree-land, sir.” The odd fellow ([Timothy @Aodh Hammerhelm) was addressing the Sherrif (@Nolewen).

    "Unnatural Selections?" thought Faramond aloud. Curious name for a shop wasn't it? Faramond decided to pay it no more mind as he unhitched his goats and started setting up the cheese stand.
    Proprietor of Pakon Stazim
    He/him

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