The Inn of the Prancing Pony

The fair valley of Rivendell, upon whose house the stars of heaven most brightly shone.
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"The Prancing Pony sits down the road from the West Gate of Bree, and has been sitting there for a long time. Although in days gone by it saw a lot more custom than it does these days it is still a popular stopping place for travelers, both friendly and unfriendly and for those mysterious men known as Rangers. It also serves as a popular meeting place for the inhabitants of Bree; it has always been a great place to hear all the local gossip, and to eagerly awaiting ears an even better place to tell it. The innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur is an important person around these parts and is known by all. Together with his servants Bob and Nob they keep the place running smoothly and keep the atmosphere warm and welcoming to any who come a-calling.

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Upon entering the inn, one is greeted by the sight of many tables and chairs on the near side of the taproom, which are freely pushed and pulled about by patrons to whatever configuration suits them best. On the far side, longs trestle tables with benches take up the majority of the space, and all along the wall opposite the door sits a vast three-sided oak bar, behind which Barliman Butterbur (played by Tharmáras) holds court with his stocks of ales and wines and liqours. A swinging door where the left end of the bar meets the wall provides access to the bar, and through a second door behind it, to the kitchen. All along the bar are stools, where the less (or more, depending) social can nurse their brews. At the back wall a set of stairs runs up to the second story, where comfortable rooms await those spending the night, and behind the inn is a generous block of stables."

- Written long ago by Merly


Attention: It's spring evening at the Pony in the Third Age year 3014.


Barliman Butterbur, the innkeeper, will be roleplayed by Aigronding but you will see him seldom.
At the moment, visitors can speak with my barkeep Edward Sugarplum. Anyone who would like to offer menu additions or be part of the staff as a cook, server, housekeeper, stablehand,
or minstrel please let me know in the Rivendell Activities Thread and I'll add your character name/position here in the OP viewtopic.php?f=10&t=34 .




PONY MENU

Drinks:
Old Hill Ale – A dark malty beer, fairly bitter
Pale Archet Ale - A honey colored ale with a perfectly white head and hints of citrus
Dry Staddle Stout – An almost black beer, characterized by a toast or coffee-like taste. Hobbits love it.
Brown Ale – Dark amber beer, sweet and smooth, with a hint of chocolate.
Hard Apple Ale - A cloudy, sweet-tart ale where apples take the lead in flavor
Nob's Fearsomely Sharp Lemonade - A tart addition to our menu that provides a tangy, citrus blast for your tasting pleasure.
Bob's Dry Perry Cider - This dedlightfully crisp cider offers a sweet aroma with a distinctive, lingering pear taste.
Prince William - This dark, roasty beer with hints of caramel and chocolate was named for a noble of ancient Cardolan.
King Henry - The most dangerous brew in the business. And inky black, malty, hoppy, punch-you-in-the-face confection. Limit: three glasses per customer per night.
Dorwinion Red - A deep, dark red wine imported from the east. Makes Elves fall asleep so be careful pointy ears.
Blackberry Wine - Coming from a mysterious supplier, this fruity wine will lay you low most pleasantly.
Peredhel - A dry white of Flutterbye Vineyards with flavors of peaches and honeysuckle named for a frequent half-elven guest here.
Queen Ann - A red wine of Flutterbye Vineyards which is soft and sweet as its namesake, a queen of old Cardolan. Layers of cherry and blackberry.
Honeymeade - Miss Lisbeth's straight bourbon whiskey, a deliciously smooth liqueur infused with real golden honey.
Imladris Brandy - Made from apricots, cherries, plums, or berries from Linymaril of House Mordagnir in Rivendell
Tea - Black, Thingol Grey, green, white, herbal, and chamomile.
Milk - Cold or warm, for the little ones.

Food:
Bread - White and crusty, thick & heavy wheat, one with lots of seeds. Comes with fresh butter.
Beef & Mustard - Slabs of roast beef and a pot of mustard, with the bread of your choice
Stew – Rich, filling venison stew with barley and good root vegetables
Potted Hare – Rabbit stewed in red wine, shredded, mixed with lemon and thyme.
Cheese & Pickle Sandwich - Crunchy dill pickles, mature cheddar, and mayonnaise.
Roasted Chicken – Whole or half, cooked on a spit over an open fire and basted in its own drippings, well salted and peppered, with a hint of rosemary.
Roasted Coney – Tender rabbit, whole or half, seasoned and stuffed with onion and sage
Bangers and Mash – Beef sausage and fluffy mashed potatoes, with onion gravy.
Pie - Mince, Cherry, Peach, apple
Fresh fruit
Plum Cobbler
Willow Oaks honey-roasted peanuts, chestnuts, and black walnuts
Cinnamon Squares: A warm delicious dessert bar-shaped cookies filled with cinnamon and drizzled with caramel syrup.

This is a Free RP thread with no GM direction however do look at the OP occcasionally for weather/time details.


Last edited by Eriol on Thu Mar 18, 2021 9:07 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Granny Smith

Taking a last deep breath of the evening air before pushing the door open and stepping inside, Granny is surprised to find the inn empty save for the barkeep. It feels like ages since she last visited the Prancing Pony or any other establishment as the elderly hobbit had found herself preferring a quiet night at home or spending time with Lilah, her granddaughter, to the company of large amounts of people for quite some time.

'I wouldn't be surprised if people have quite forgotten about me,' chuckling to herself at the thought as she approaches the bar, Granny takes a seat with a quiet sigh and put her hands on the counter.

It had been a long day of baking cheese and mushroom pies and a large dose of spring cleaning but tonight, for the first time in a long time, she had wanted to go talk to someone other than herself or her black and white, pink-nosed cat Jensen. It was Lilah that had named him when he was a kitten and Granny hadn't had the heart to change it and risk disappointing her only grandchild who loved the cat more than anything, so Jensen it was.

Being in her early 70's her former dark brown hair had turned white and grey and the smooth skin if youth long passed had turned wrinkly.

"Hullo," greeting the barkeep (
Edward) she smiles and as she is unsure of his name she introduces herself "I'm Granny, not sure if you remember me or if we've even met, I'm not exactly known for showing my 'pretty' face outside my own hole much nowadays," at the word pretty she rolls her eyes a little and gives him a short playful smile to let him him know that she's joking and not to take it seriously.

Pausing for a moment to give him a chance to reply her stomach seemes to think it's a good time to remind her that she'd totally forgotten all about supper in her rush to get to the inn.
Rohirrim at heart, always.

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NPC Fallon Underwood

The weary hobbit watches the door under the sign of the Prancing Pony intently. He has been out in the alleyway, concealed in the shadows, for long hours, and when his vigilance begins to fail him – each time his tired eyes begin to droop – he leans forward so that the pommel of his hidden weapon prods him rudely in the pit of his ample belly.

The aromas drifting across the street (good ale and fine provender) are the worst hardship of his vigil, for he last partook of a meal at mid-afternoon. At length the promise of warm food and a cool draught prove too much, and he moves from hiding, the firm warning of caution given by his friend in the Shire a week ago forgotten.

He finds the bar empty – of course it is, he hasn’t seen anyone enter the place in hours! - save for an old woman (Granny Smith) and the publican.

“I’ll have a nice tall mug of your finest,” he says, scrambling onto a stool besides the old gammer without so much as: a do you mind, ma’am?

In a thrice he has laid out his smoking gear on the bar counter, chubby fingers packing his pipe as he studies the menu board on the opposite wall.

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Sidra trudged up the road towards the Prancing Pony. Even though it was a fair spring evening, she kept the hood of her black cloak pulled up; hiding as much of her face as she could. She didn’t know who might be around, and she wanted no trouble from the rough men that she heard sometimes frequented Bree. She had been given leave to go into the town, have a good meal, and listen to the rumors from the surrounding areas – if there was any to be had. She was dressed simply enough - boots, pants, tunic, shirt, and bracers – all of which were black, save for her shirt which was a navy blue. A curved Elven Knife hung at her waist. Usually she would have had her sword and bow on her as well, but she didn’t want those things to make her stand out. She was skilled with her dagger after all; it would serve her well if she got into trouble, as long as she wasn’t too out numbered.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind; she was good at avoiding notice if needed. As long as she stayed alert to trouble, she’d be fine. She pushed open the door to the Prancing Pony, scanning the room as the door closed behind her. It was basically empty, save for the staff, and two Hobbits. She felt some of the tension in her shoulders relax – she wouldn’t have to retreat to a lone corner with so few people around. I can risk it. She thought to herself, pushing the hood of her cloak back to reveal her long ebony hair.

She walked to the bar, taking a seat beside the elderly Hobbit (Granny Smith). She gave a curt nod to the barkeep (Edward). “A pint of your Brown Ale, some bread, and a bowl of stew, if you please.” She said, placing her coin on the bar. He took the money, and quickly brought her her order. She nodded her thanks, before ripping a chunk out of the thick, heavy wheat bread and slathering it in butter. She popped it in her mouth and chewed contently. Taking a sip of sweet ale, she turned her dark umber eyes towards the Hobbits. “Good evening.” She said, to Granny Smith and Fallon Underwood. “How fare you this fine evening?” She noted Fallon’s smoking gear laid out on the bar counter. “That’s a lovely pipe.” She said, taking another sip of her ale, “I hear the Shire has the best pipe weed around.”
Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

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NPC: Fallon Underwood

The hobbit’s vigil at the bar of the common room had proved asfruitful as his watch from the alley.

True, he was snug and warm, the heft of a third tankard of rather fine pale ale in his chubby hand, but conversation had proved meagre. The old gammer next to him (Granny Smith) had not uttered a word since he took up his perch. And as for the barkeep… Well, Surly might as well be his given name!

He turned eagerly as the wind off the street found his neck, and watched intently as a tall woman (Sidra) crossed the room.

A traveller for sure… But how to strike up a conversation discretely?

“It does, ma’am,” he smiled, turning towards her. “Or at least it had when I was last there, and that was many years ago. My weed is passably good though, it comes from the warm fields of Gondor away down South, where, I believe it is known as Westman’s Weed.

Have you travelled far, ma’am? Are you partial to a smoke? Ah, but come, I forget my manners.

Very pleased to meet you, ma’am, Fallon is my name – Fallon Underwood.”

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Sidra regarded the Hobbit (Fallon) cautiously, though she kept her face serene. A traveler, huh? There were very few Hobbits who would venture out from the safety of the Shire. At most, their wandering would take them as far as Bree. It would appear this Hobbit had been much further abroad. “Fallon, a pleasure.” She said, giving him a bow of her head. “Underwood? I must admit, I am not familiar with that name. What Farthing does your family hail from?”

She smiled at him. “Forgive me, I am forgetting my manners myself. My name is Sidra.” She brushed a strand of her raven hair behind her pointed ear before taking another slip of her beer. “I do not smoke myself, but I know many who do. It can be a comforting enough smell on a fine night. Westman’s Weed, you say? I shall have to keep that in mind, if my travels ever take me that way and my companions are in need of a good smoke.” She broke another chunk off her bread and coated it in butter. “You say you haven’t been to the Shire in many years, that is surprising. I was not aware that Hobbits travelled far from home. It has been very pleasant out lately, so I should not have minded if I had to travel far tonight, but as fortune would have it…I did not travel very far.” She gave him a wink.

She popped the bread into her mouth and ate it, then pulled her bowl of stew towards her. “Did you really travel to Gondor, Fallon? That would be quite a feat for a Hobbit, if you don’t mind my saying. Even on horseback that would take…months.” She shook her head. “That’s a long time to be on the road.”
Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

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The passages through Eriador took both time and patience, and then of course you also had to spend much of your vigilance simply to avoid running into trouble. The North was becoming a slightly less welcoming place, Anárië thought to herself as she guided the stallion down the street in Bree, but her musings were interrupted by needing to avoid a direct run-in with a cart that came from the other direction, rather helter-skelter as far as she was concerned. Her horse snorted and shied away to the side, prancing lightly on nimble feet while she murmured quietly, keeping a firm hold on the reins and her attention on just where the cart would be off to next. It seemed the driver wasn't planning on spending much time arguing with her. Well enough.

Shaking her head and brushing a wayward strand of what could only be called baby hair that seemed to take particular pleasure in curling around her temples, the elleth clicked her tongue gently and made her way forward. If her memory served, the Prancing Pony remained the number one establishment here in Bree, and she'd be glad for a pint of something strong tonight, a room to sleep in, and then breakfast the next morning before she bid the village farewell. Both she and her horse were tired enough, and could do with some Bree hospitality, which was fabled enough, if you had both money to spend and interesting news to share in the common room.

The sign hanging above the door greeted her like an old friend, and she considered the number of times she'd visited here in the past. Often enough, truth be told, but not for a while now, so every time was almost like a new experience, especially for an Elf, who did not count years the same way the Secondborn did. The sounds coming from within were rather subdued for a fine spring evening, when she might have expected more people to be out and about, but perhaps they were all cozied up in their own homes and unwilling to stir from their hearths. That could also be a fairly good reason.

Dismounting and unearthing the Hobbit who would look after her horse, she made her way inside the inn proper, pushing back the hood of her cloak and letting her fair hair out to breathe. She knew she generally stood out among all the darker colouring she encountered, but at this point she acknowledged it, like she acknowledged that there were normally eyes on the sword she didn't often detach from her side, and moved along. As she'd guessed from without, the inn was actually rather quiet that night, surprisingly so. Two Hobbits and an Elf, and that seemed to be it as far as the eye could tell. "Good evening," she greeted Granny Smith, Fallon and Sidra pleasantly, walking up to the bar where they all sat, "mind if I join you? A pint of Pale Archet please, barkeep," she added politely as she turned her head to the man.

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Sidra’s attention was drawn away from the Hobbits to the door as she heard it opening. Her eyebrows rose slightly with both surprise and pleasure as she recognized the newcomer as an Elf! Her fair hair marked her as a full Elf and not a Half-Elf like Sidra was. Even if the Prancing Pony suddenly were to fill with unsavory characters, she knew that she would have an ally in the Elf. She smiled at Anárië as she came and stood by the bar, and said brightly: “Ai mellon! Elen sila lumenn’ omentielvo! Nanya Sidra. Man esselya na? (Hail friend! A star shines on the hour of our meeting! My name is Sidra. What’s your name?)” Then in the common tongue, she added, “Please, join us!” She took a sip of her ale. “Have you travelled far this night?”

Sidra was excited to have run into a child of the Eldar here in Bree, and she wondered what news this newcomer could offer her. It had been months since she had last been surrounded by any of her kinsman in Rivendell, and even longer since she had been home to the Golden Woods of Lothlorien. She didn’t realize she had missed the company of other Elves so much, until tonight. “If you’re hungry, mellon, may I suggest the bread. It is warm and tasty.” Perhaps she should have greeted the Elf more cautiously, but she couldn’t seem to keep the warmth from her voice.
Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

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NPC: Fallon Underwood

The hobbit was rather pleased with the alias he’d given the woman (Sidra). It certainly beat the hastily garbled one he’d supplied the stall-holder in Michel Delving two days before. Yes… Rankweed, what a corker that had been! Underwood and Fallon were far better, both mischievously alluding to a stranger and shadows under trees.

He set a light to the bowl of his pipe and peered wide-eyed as the woman introduced herself. An Elf! How wonderful! But he soon began to feel a trifle uncomfortable. She was fair spoken – weren’t all the Eldar? – but her questions needed to be answered carefully unless his cover, like another’s had been in this very common room, be blown through recklessness.

He took a long pull on his pipe, making a great show of popping smoke-rings over the head of the barkeep, before replying. Then just as he was about to, just as he thought he’d say something the keen-eared Elf-maid would seize on as false, another clear voice rang out across the room.

Fallon smiled at the new-comer - another Elf (Anárië) if you could believe it! – and listened in wonder as Sidra greeted her in a tongue that sounded like song rather than speech.

”Pleased to meet you,” the hobbit smiled at their new companion. “I am Fallon Underwood. What a pleasure it is to meet two of the Fair Folk in Bree.”
Last edited by Aodh Hammerhelm on Tue Jun 02, 2020 6:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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"How's the night going, baby?"

"Slow, Pa," answered his teenage daughter, red hair swishing as she turned about to face him from the tap she held. "Can I go home?"

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"Flutterbye's forge, you mean," he replied with a knowing grin. His child was determined to become a smith. She worked most nights as a serving girl here at the Pony but often by daylight she was usually learning skills as a journeyman at the forge. "Don't be a jive turkey, okay?" he said, drawing a giggle from her. "It's too late, honey. I know Allison's father gave you a key but I don't want you out after dark unless you're with me, alright?" He shook his head ruefully, wiping down the sticky bar with a wet cloth. "The streets can be dangerous when the sun goes down. Got too me brigands coming up the Greenway."

"I'll listen to ya, Pa," Amy promised him, kissing his thick luxuriant beard.

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"Tell your friend, Lauren Yellowbell, to listen to me!" lectured Edward as she ventured toward the smoky common room floor carrying a tray of ales with impressive grace. "I'm sure it's your buddy stealing the rasin cookies back here!" he insisted, flinging a hand at the jar behind the bar. Amy ignored him though, cheering her girl. Lauren, a cute flaxen-haired belle of Archet wearing a violet laced kirtle embellished with golden silk, was energized this evening. She played Summer Leaves, a lively backwoods tune, old as the hills, on her fiddle amid receptive guests. Her spirited performance got several Elves and mortals to dance out of their seats or benches; others clapping their hands along to the rousing music. She grinned and jigged merrily, sunny blonde curls bouncing off her shoulders, sweat glistening her brow from the exertion.

Yes. It was another fine night in the Bree-land.

"Granny Smith, bless my eyes!" Edward exclaimed, taking her wrinkled hand to chastely kiss. "Of course, I remember you. It's hard to forget a Hobbit-lass who's sweet as green Archet apple, miss. Say, if I get you something to eat maybe you'd return the favor. Perhaps you could spend some hours in the kitchen here at the Pony one day of the week. I bet ole Barliman would like to sell your pies or perhaps you wouldn't mind parting with your recipe..."

A smoking Hobbit asked him for a tall mug of his finest ale. "I have a keen liking for Pale Ale, little mister. How does three tankards sound? The third's on me, pal. Anything for a chap who smokes Westman's." Edward chuckled when the halfling blew smoke-rings above his head as he poured the drinks. "Do you fancy Bree-land tobacco?" he asked, settling the stonemare cups before the Hobbit named Fallon Underwood. "It's called Goodfellow in these villages. I could let you try the Brown Label. It tastes like toffee." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You look weary, bud. Need a room for the night or longer perhaps?"

Edward was delighted to see a raven-haired elleth arrive. "What brings you from Lindon, ma'am?" Edward asked, taking her shiny coin. "Do you hail from Círdan's realm and travelling to Rivendell or perhaps you're from Lothlórien and travelling to the sea?" Edward gave a shout to the slim burnette server, Fern Hollow, who was breezing by toward the kitchen, and asked her to get some bread & bitter with a bowl of stew for the Elf maiden. "We get plenty of elven travellers here," he mentioned, filling a glass with brown ale for Sidra. "Some are from the Elven League, a host of warriors Elrond's herald - a High Elf lord named Mordagnir - is mustering from all the nearest elven nations. Others are lone vagabonds, wandering companies, or merchants." He handed Sidra her drink and smiled widely. "My favorite Elves are the minstrels. You see anything they're singing of right before your eyes."

Edward was astonished when the elven blonde (Anárië) came to the bar, asking for a Pale Ale. "We do have pints, miss, and you can have one," he assured her with a wink. "It surprises me Elves love a good beer," he admitted, yanking back the appropriate tap. "Before I started serving your lot, I thought y'all drank wine all day like them Mirkwood Elves in There and Back Again, ha!" He slid her the glass. "What's your name, pretty lady, and where you come from? One of those Elves from Imladris?" He glanced at her sword. "We get a lot of soldiers and adventurers from Mordagnir's Gryphon Battalion here, looking for Rangers to team up with or hear some news from. A popular meeting place, this inn is."
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Edward smirked, shaking his head, uttering, "This guy," when Astaro came swaggering toward the bar. The ringing sound of his silver spurs jingled musically as he drew closer with a broad smile.

"Evenin', Eddy!" Astaro cried happily in Westron, the common speech. The Elf was tall and strong and short of dark hair. You couldn't tell he was of the Elder kindred at first glance. He passed easily for an exceedingly handsome cleanshaven man because of the Combe Valley black wrangler hat he always wore and the black leather dustercoat. The only weapon he carried was an axe and Edward knew the Elf could use it deadly well. "I'd like a berry brandy of Linyamaril, barkeep," said Astaro warmly, shaking the veteran forester's hand manfully before taking a seat next to the blonde swordswoman. When he noticed he was sitting beside two Elves, he blanched, losing his mirth in an instant.

"Bring any Moles with you, Astaro?" wondered Edward, walking away to retrive the brandy imported from Rivendell which stood with other fine liquors. When he returned to the bar, Astaro had doffed his hat and began fanning himself with it, starting to sweat as he figeted uncomfortably next to the golden-haired fighter. "Oh. Moles. I forgot I wasn't supposed to say that word."

"We need to do something about your memory, mate," Astaro replied icily, suddenly irate and flexing the fingers of his black glove. Astaro's elven people were followers of Maeglin, an elvish prince responsible for the fall of an elven city named Gondolin in the First Age. Astaro had told him the story after one High Elf descendant tried to kill him in the inn a few years back. Astaro hadn't lived during that time but he carried the stigma of Mole survivors and their scions living on Tol Noldarë, a Wethrin Isle west of Lindon. Many Moles hadn't survived Gondolin but those who did were rallied by Hatholdir Narroval. The Mole had been a minor noble and gifted matallurgist in the city who was close to Maeglin. He survived a fall, took the sword and secret token of Morgoth's from the prince's burning corpse, and gathered the Moles in hiding. Their cavern abode in the Wethrin Mountains became an island in the diasterous wake of the War of Wrath. Hatholdir did mining there and on the mainland and sold the blades of his Moles to the Elven League as reinforcements. Aigronding was that desperate for help, Edward guessed, even those who tried to kill him once. They were a necessary evil, the grimmest of warriors if legend was to be true and Edward was certain it was after having seen how brutal Astaro fought and that Erfaron bloke he hung around with was even scarier.

Edward set down his glass, meeting Astaro's gimlet stare with a look just as fierce, silently reminding him what he was capable of.

"I just walk in and I'm public enemy number one,"
muttered the Mole under his breath though audible enough to be heard before he took a deep swallow of his drink. "This is excellent brandy," Astaro remarked, looking at his brooding reflection in the liquid. "I first had it at Linyamaril," he added, referencing the manor of Aigronding in Rivendell. Perhaps he hoped to dispel any notion that he was an enemy.

"Whatcha' doing here, Astaro?" Edward asked through an exasperated sigh and smiled wanly yet fondly at the misfortunate but good-hearted Elf. He was a rough Elf, all Moles were, but his mother had raised him decently it seemed. Astaro reminded him of those roguish heart-throbs with intriguing dimension Miranda Peppermint enjoyed writing about in her historical romances; Amy read them and waxed lyrical about those books all the time.

"Prospecting and giving people a hard time, what else?" [/i]Astaro drawled and took another lasting sip of his brandy.
Last edited by Eriol on Tue Jun 02, 2020 7:35 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

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It was cozy in the inn, especially this room, and Anárië felt her muscles loosening once she ascertained that there was no unsavoury character about to jump straight at her. When you didn't count your years anymore you got used to certain types of behaviour, and this was one of them, she supposed. Luckily for her she didn't anticipate anyone trying to wake her in the morning, so there was no danger of her reacting badly to that. Time on the roads, especially in the wild, made anyone wary, and you didn't just drop all that in favour of becoming the way any regular citizen of such a village as Bree would be on your average day or night. The elleth could simply be thankful that she had gotten so far as she had.

At the greeting from the other Elf in the room, however, Anárië's face brightened and she turned easily towards Sidra, extending her hands. 'Elen sila lumenn’ omentielvo, Sidra. Mae govannen. (Well met) I am Anárië.' The last she added in the Common Tongue for others to be able to understand her as well, and to ensure everyone caught her name. It was a bother needing to introduce yourself over and over again. She smiled at the Hobbit as well. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Underwood." Taking another of the empty seats at the bar, the elleth turned her attention to the barkeep as he spoke.

"Tis true that I like a good wine, but Bree ale is known throughout this region, and you can hardly get it anywhere else," she answered him with some amusement, "And I do believe I shall take Lady Sidra's excellent advice about your bread, if you would be so kind." She was pulling the gloves from her fingers when the other Elf walked in, even as the barkeep continued talking. "As you say, good sir, this inn is a meeting place for all sorts." There were too many names being thrown about, too much information, and even if there weren't that many pairs of ears to listen, Anárië was going to give them as little as she possibly could. It was no one's business who was going where and what other Elves were on the loose, or wandering, not to mention what their beverage of choice was. Next she knew someone would claim they knew the location of the Golden Wood, and how to enter it! Which would be a lie, of course, from anyone but an Elf of the Wood, but still.

Her head turned to the newcomer and she dipped it in greeting, catching the reference that he was purportedly a survivor of Gondolin - but she hadn't gotten to where she was by bandying about information about herself, so left it at that, and refocused on Sidra again. "Forgive me, I am being incredibly rude," she apologized first and foremost, "but yes, I have travelled far, and will travel further tomorrow, weather permitting. The Valar know spring in these lanes is as wet as it comes, but hopefully it might hold off for a day or so. I'm making my way towards the Misty Mountains; what of you? You seem far afield, and far from home as well." She took a sip of the Pale Archet and sighed at the light citrus taste. The reference to brandy, however, made her chuckle lightly. "Aye, fine brandy is difficult to come by these days, unless you know where to look."

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Sidra contemplated how she should answer Edward. It was always nice to find a friendly barkeep…but barkeeps were known to talk a lot, to lots of people, and she’d rather not have everyone who passed through Bree know her story. “Elves do have beautiful singing voices.” She replied to Edward, her dark eyes regarding him thoughtfully. “Though I myself do not sing much.”

Sidra’s attention was drawn away from her current companions once more as a newcomer (Astaro) swaggered over to the bar. Her graceful brow rose slightly at the dark haired Elf’s reaction to those sitting at the bar. She took another sip of her ale, gazing at him from beneath her dark lashes. What strange garb he wears. She mused to herself. Perhaps she was just too used to dressing as the Rangers do, and wasn’t up on the latest trends. He appeared to be an Elf…though she had never seen an Elf wear his hair that short willingly. Plus, he carried an axe…not your typical Elven weapon. He seemed to be good friends with Edward. Sidra tried not to eavesdrop too much on their conversation.

Instead she turned her attention back to Anárië, clasping her hand in greeting. “No need to ask for forgiveness, Anárië.” She said, with another smile. “There are many things happening that draw one’s attention away. I hope the weather holds out for your travel. Are you heading to Rivendell or past the Misty Mountains?” She pulled her bowl of stew towards herself again and ate a spoonful. It was warm and savory, and hit the spot. “I am rather far from home.” She confessed, “Though I find am blessed to have friends in many places. I’m a Galadhrim, hard as that might before people to believe.” She said with a chuckle, motioning to her ebony hair.

Turning back to Fallon, she said “I’m sorry, I believe you were about to say something, before the ellon entered.”
Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

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NPC: Fallon Underwood

The common room of the Inn feels suddenly crowded and claustrophobic. Three large mugs of the Pony’s finest have given the hobbit’s head a warm glow; the sudden greeting by Edward, the barkeep and the general clamour in the room make it chime like a bell. The portly hobbit, Fallon to those in the Inn, suddenly sees the truth in a tale he’d often scoffed at.

How could someone with such a secret – one as perilous as carrying the Ring of the Enemy – be so foolish?

Well, he sees the truth in it now! Of course his furtive mission is in no way as important as the one carried out by the esteemed Frodo Baggins - it concerns the matters of three or four people not the entire world – but to mess it up would be mortifying.

A bite to eat… that’s what I need, something to steady my tum and stiffen my resolve, he thinks, dabbing absently at his forehead with his neckerchief.

But of course his purse is all but empty: the Shire coins received as change in Michel Delving have been squandered on ale; and only two knuckles of the silver ingot (travelling money, his erstwhile companion had called it) remain… Not enough surely for a long journey East?

”Excuse me,” he says, hopping down from his stool and offering a quick bow to Sidra and Anárië. “I think I need a touch of evening air…”

With that the hobbit wobbles unsteadily towards the door. He stumbles into the street and gulps in long draughts of cool air, before tottering on across the cobbles to the stables. There is no sign of Nob, and Bob does not respond to Fallon's reedy call.

“Bother it!” he mutters, “What have they done with my pony?”

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BUMP

NPC: Fallon Underwood

Fallon stands in the deep shadows without the stable-block for what seems like an eternity. He guesses it now close to midnight, and still there’s been no sign of Bob or Nob. Across the street warm light and laughter spill from the Prancing Pony; the prospect of a warm meal and bed almost drive him back through the inn’s doors. Somehow the hobbit manages not to surrender to the easier way. A new day might not bring new counsel, he reasons. And besides his steed, faithful Stew-pony, seems to have been pinched.

He toys awhile with heading back to the Pony anyway, waking Barliman Butterbur and demanding compensation for his stolen mount. But, just as his woolly feet begin to betray him, he notices something he can turn to his advantage. A wain heavily laden with cargo, drawn by six large horses, creaks down the road over by the East Gate.

The hobbit, perhaps for the first time in his wandering years, acts on impulse.

Drawing in a deep breath he lowers his head and trots down the road. As he slips by the shuttered windows of the grocer’s store he is going at a fair old clip. The wain draws closer; close enough for him to see markings on the barrels and bundles (Product of Bree); close enough for him to hear the teamster call a loud farewell to the gatekeeper.

Gates! Drat, they're swinging closed!

Fallon’s canter turns into a full-blown sprint. Through the gateway he whizzes, and on up the highway as it climbs Bree-hill. Just when it looks like he will not make it, just as the teamster gives a loud whistle and crack of his whip, Fallon leaps for the rear of the wain. He catches hold of a trailing rope, and, with surprising agility for one so plump, shimmies up it like a toy monkey on a stick.

“Let it be going the right way!” he puffs, as he scrambles atop the wagon’s cargo. He falls on his back, wiggles his toes and watches the lights of Bree disappear into the night.

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"Aye, Miss Elf, we have good ale here in Bree but we have splendid wine as well," Edward assured the blonde, Anárië. "We have the Flutterbye Vineyards in Combe Valley. If you fancy a taste, I have a lovely sweet red for you to try."

Edward was amazed when Sidra told him she couldn't sing much. "Blimey, I have so many misconceptions about Elvenfolk it seems!"Edward exclaimed, passing a malty King Henry to a thirsty Dwarf. "The way your lot carry on in stories, singing every five seconds, I've figured every Elf was as merry."

He chuckled, winking at them, hoping they knew he was making lighthearted fun. "Do you need a place to stay for the night or a while?" Edward asked the Elves. "Anárië mentioned she would be underway in the morning. Will you be staying longer, Sidra? We have many suites with a lovely view of the Road." Edward smiled as the halfling, Fallon left. "Take care of yourself, friend!" Edward shouted, raising his voice above the applause for Lauren's performance. "There's been woodcutters from Combe vanishing in the Chetwood over the last few weeks!"


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

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Uhta Halsad

The evening’s entertainment had been worth the walk. The bald man tapped one foot with unrestrained abandon along to the young girl (Lauren)’s jig, spading food into his mouth with such a speed, it seemed that his foot was the pump to an effective assembly line. A chicken was firm within the man’s strong hand, clutched as though it were a comely barmaid’s behind, even as a fork stabbed slabs of beef, dunked heartily in the stew and still dripping down his other wrist. It was fortunate that his arms were stripped, liberating large biceps, that the sweat and the streaks of grease glistened under the inn’s light.

Pie” he asked, with an earnest expression catching the musician’s eye as she ended her tune. “More pie,” he clarified, for it would not have been the first he had tried tonight, intending it would seem to work through the entire menu. The table before him was set for a banquet though he dined alone, and not a single plate yet had been finished or ignored. He was whetting his tastebuds. All of them. Waving his poultry, fresh with bite marks where he’d gnawed of it voraciously, he called after her. “And Hill ale !" he confessed, a fifth now emptied tankard which bounced on the table top as he threw down his fork and a particularly heavy hand.

Returned to his feast, the large man ducked his head at anyone who so much as raised him one eyebrow. He was having an incredibly good time, and did not care to mind himself. For he could very well, mind himself if the need should arise. Drowning doorsteps of hard bread into various dishes about him, Uhta smacked his lips. This was his first time in the Prancing Pony, but by sure he determined that it would not be the last. The men and hobbits were very accommodating, despite the astounded looks which had been thrown his way at quite how much he was fitting into his heft. But Uhta’s greatest weapon was himself, and his greatest love was to worship that self with all the wonders life had to offer. His immense height and bulk allowed that few things were beyond his mere taking as he pleased. Still he was a jovial enough fellow, except when crossed.

There were a lot of Elves in the inn tonight, he could not help but notice. And that barkeep had an awful lot to say for himself. Uhta had given Edward nothing but eager instruction for a hot bath and a large bed. He might have asked for something to warm that bed, but such slips of the tongue had caused him to be kicked out of the Forsaken Inn. He was far from home here, but assuredly making himself quite at home.
Last edited by Ercassie on Wed Jul 15, 2020 10:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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"Just remembered I was holding a letter for you, Astaro," Edward informed the young Mole, snapping his fingers.

"It would behoove you to hand me it," Astaro politely suggested in an icy drawling voice. He rolled his hazel eyes when Edward spent several minutes shuffling through two dozen envelopes to find the missive. He tried to mask his intrigue with an air of irreverence. No one knew he was coming besidesErfaron . He was in in the neighborhood and had recently sent a letter to him, alerting the younger Elf - or was it was warning? Astaro still wasn't sure - that he'd find him eventually in Eriador. Erfaron had an inkling that the Mole prospector would be spending some time on the mainland when he left Tol Noldarë a short while ago.


"Sorry about that,"
Edward apologized and smirked as he tossed the Elf an envelope of cheap brown paper. "When it rains, it pours as we say in Bree, you know."

Astaro removed a badly folded piece of parchment from the envelope and laughed, recognizing the writing before he even began reading the thing. It was indeed from Erfaron! His laughter grew louder, finishing it a second time. Through the fond barrage of customary insults which many a Mole was accustomed to using at personal greetings or by the written word, Astaro determined that the older Elf was still in the vicinity and had the Mole sentry, Ospiel, with him. In the previous letter, half of which he he declared his revulsion of Erfaron's pungent odor, Astaro alluded to the assignment Hatholdir had charged him with and hinted at strange happenings in the region.

Astaro rang a large hand-bell on the bar to seize Edward's attention from taking several orders at once. Although it was only civil (For normal people) to wait until Edward had a free moment, Astaro (having learned thousands of ways to irritate people from Hatholdir and Erfaron, rejecting ettiquette and protocol most readily) restrained a lopsided grin as he rapidly tapped the bell until Edward glared at the Mole. "Quill, ink, and parchment, please."

When he was provided with these, Astaro began writing Erfaron a reply back. Suddenly he smelled about him a reek not unlike a barnyard as if a paddock of swine had been loosed allowing its vermin to run rampant inside the Pony. Trying in vain to rid the unpleasant stench from his nostrils with vigorous waving of his black hat, Astaro turned toward Erfaron and Ospiel.

*


Image


"The Bree-land Gazette!" cried the scrawny teenage town crier from his soapbox on Cherrytree Lane, not far from the Pony. With only a few minutes left until his shift ended on the top of the hour, the boy in white breeches and red coat waved the brass bell high with his left hand and lifted high a copy of The Bree-land Gazette with his right. He was eager to get home to his Mama's hot supper after a long day of saying the same repetitive declaration.

"I'll buy a copy, lad."


The little newsie looked into the shadows of Hemlock Avenue and saw a tall broad-shouldered man emerge from the darkness, lighting a carved rosewood pipe. His illuminated cleanshaven face was rugged and weary but his easy smile was both handsome and charming.

"Are you an out-of-towner, mister?" asked the hawker with a low amazed voice. The man spoke with a richly pleasant accent. His skin was olive not white and his thick hair was black as South Downs coal.

The man said nothing for a moment, smoking the fragrant tobacco of Goodfellow Blue Label in deep thought, obviously none too comfortable with revealing his origins nor his identity but he did finally speak, kneeling to be equal height with the child. "I hail from from burning arid plains where camels trod and lush forests where behemoths walk, son," he uttered and lifted his sad weathered face toward the spangled heavens. "Where I come from, boy, the stars are strange..." He clamped the pipe between his teeth, taking the Gazette with one hand and fishing in his belt's pouch for coins with the other. "These are for the paper." He gave the boy four silver pennies.

"Mister, that's too much!" the child protested hotly but the man chuckled, mussing the boy's disheveled brown hair as he stood up.

"I have many more. Keep them. For you and your mother." He walked away with a brisk step, crossing the street to enter the Pony behind two chattering Elves.

*



"I expected to find you where there was food, always thinking with your stomach, Uhta,"
Kfir remarked with a subtle air of passive-aggressive condemnation. "Always thinking with your stomach, my big friend," he added, taking a seat with Halsad at the bar as he unfurled a large napkin with a fluid snap of his wrist. "Don't eat this much. You're done. I truly pity the dear woman who's unfortunately doomed to clean your chamber pot." Kfir was mildly amused, watching the beautiful golden-haired lass (Lauren) attentively listening to Uhta's request for double pie. She was not phased by the display of the brute's great biceps. Her ginger friend (Amelia) gazed at Uhta's bulky frame with such rapt attention however that she nearly walked into a wall with her tray laden with jars of foaming beer. "Don't think about it," Kfir warned Uhta, observing the leatherbound menu. "You'll crush her. The redhead is a twig."

Image


"Hey, sugar!" Lauren hailed Uhta sunnily. The joyous attractive blonde hastened out of the kitchen with two pies - one of apple and the other peach. Warm and juicy. "You're lucky, Mister! These are the last fruit pies we've got tonight. Mince is left."

"I think he's had enough, sweetling,"
Kfir remarked, stifling a groan.

"Aw, he's a strapping man! Leave him alone."
She slapped Kfir's hand lightly with a charming grin and tore the cap off of a bottle of Brown ale with a yelling Troll opener mounted on the wall behind the bar. "If you gotta bust his arse from something, let it be his manners or lack thereof." She giggled then patted Uhta's muscled arm much to the visible dismay of the ginger. "You should try our breakfast special!" winsome Lauren suggested, talking with one hand while the other rested on her hip. "On Highdays we serve the whole morning selection."

"Oh, dear," Kfir muttered, looking at the pouch of stolen money. He couldn't kill people every day.

"We've got pancakes in small mountains on the back griddle, sir,"
Lauren encouraged Uhta. She blew him a kiss. "I'll get our widest saucer for you." She seized a bottle of caramel sauce and set it before him with an appealing smile of her soft glistening pink lips and made a beeline to the kitchen, telling her irate redheaded friend to hurry up with those drinks. She stole an eager glance at the handsome Elf in black with the cattleman hat before she vanished.

Kfir presented Uhta with a huge rose-gold ring embellished with glinting rubies. "Don't ask me where I found this but there's more if you behave," Kfir promised the colossal man, confident it would fit one of Uhta's strong meaty fingers. Kfir snorted a laugh. One thing was certain. When the Umbarians claimed the Bree-land for their own, Uhta would want to rule the Hill from the Pony. It would be his castle. He was home, clearly.

Edward promised Uhta his largest bed and a hot bath following the meal then took Kfir's order for a refreshing sweet glass of Queen Ann red wine. Kfir inspected the Gazette he purchased from the hawker outside as he sipped. Flipping pages beyond short stories, poetry, bogus farmer predictions forecasting weather, villager interviews, proverbs, and other useless information to him until he came to the page of news. He allowed himself to smugly grin, reading about the mystery of the vanished woodcutters. Sometimes what you're looking for is hidden in plain sight.
"Eriol... 'One who dreams alone.' ” - Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales I

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The meaty cobra of a tattooed arm shielded the feast as Kfir sat himself down. One eye daring his associate to intervene, Uhta rearranged his plates, levelling the contents of some, by piling up others. To make space, staking his territory. “There are things,” he admitted, in lieu of greeting, “besides my stomach, that could stand to be satisfied.” As Lauren unloaded another platter of delicacies, her keen customer patted the newly cleared table surface, as though he expected her to spring up there herself, or lay down yet another serving, or both; he could not have cared which. “Already she talks about breakfast,” the vast bald head rocked with mirth. “When first I will need bed ..

The emergence of a shiny ring in Kfir’s grasp stole Uhta’s attention, utterly, and the Bree girl was allowed to return to her duties without further harassment. The Umbarian held out one hand, generously dressed in crumbs, needing no words to make his demand. Strong fingers simply beckoned for the prize to be handed over, tried on, and admired, before the man returned to his food. “Last ones,” he shrugged, with the deft stab of a knife into the closest pie. Whether Uhta was agreeing to order no more, or simply explaining that there was no more the servers could find in their kitchens, was anybody’s guess. As the elder guest settled back to read his newspaper, the younger tore a broad leaf from the back page, and wiped his hands with it. Crushing the ruined remnants into a ball, he pitched it over at the bar. But something else had already caught Astaro (at least) ‘s attention.


It was no small wonder that the young Mole had turned to see. Though it might have been wiser to avert an astounded gaze. The latest arrivals to the inn were a sight to make jaws drop, conversation stop. Silver hair, plastered fast with both mud and .. worse .., was cemented slick about the skull mask of Erfaron’s pale face. Ospiel bore her own mane, the night sky to match his veil of starlight, but now both stood obscured by a blanket of filth. Hawk-sharp features were made all the more pronounced by each surprising, sodden state. Travel-stained, or so one might hope, garb hung heavy like the rain clouds which might have explained all. Still there was no hint of storm to be glimpsed through the door, which crept to a close, warily behind them.

Uhta dropped a heavy hand onto Kfir’s newspaper, which crumpled as consequence. But got no further. Cold blue eyes were already raised toward the pair of Men, small animation in a frame of cadaverous countenance. Then shifted away, apparently unthreatened. The two Elves exchanged a glance which expressed a silent, begrudging sigh, and dropped a series of bloodied weapons upon the bar. If it was a gesture to declare themselves unarmed, then the size, state and quantity of the tools bred little reassurance.

What is good here ?” the She-Elf found her tongue, clearly expecting to be accommodated, irrespective of her attire. A derisive grunt from her companion suggested there was naught good, save for the small contentment he gained; when seizing up Astaro’s hat, sailing it clear across the room, and only then relaxed. As much as one could, without taking a seat.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
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Philomena Brooks and Hazel Cooper
sitting at a table in the common-room

Philomena flicked a dingy silver coin on the surface of her table, watching it twirl like a child's spinning top toy before smacking her right hand down on it. She did so repeatedly, neglecting to drink the pint of dark malty beer in her left hand. Its foam had long-since subsided, but Philomena did not care, she had not come to The Pony today to sate her thirst.

“You certainly know how to keep someone waiting,” she grumbled, as a tall lithesome woman took a seat in the opposite chair. Hazel Cooper, the secretary of the Mayor, hung the leather strap of her jeweled purse over the back of her wooden seat and brought her flawless hands together on the table. Her fingers were long and beautiful, her nails had been coated in a rich plum-colored lacquer. She wore a little black dress with a low and immodest décolletage. Its slit rose high above the level of her thighs, not only revealing almost the entirety of her shapely legs but also failing to leave much to the imagination.

Hazel tossed her glossy raven-black hair over her shoulders as the men in the common-room gawked. “A gift from Oliver I imagine?” asked Philomena, pointing a finger at the Haradrim gold-plated earrings swinging from Hazel’s ears. “Perhaps,” she said coolly, raising a hand at a passing server and requesting a glass of Dorwinion wine.

Philomena rolled her eyes. Hazel did not hide the fact that she was a mistress, if anything, you could say she flaunted it proudly. “You know why I asked you here,” went on to say Philomena, ”so what is your answer?”

A glass of deep, red alcohol was placed before Hazel. She plucked it carefully and raised it to her pouty, red-painted lips. Only after she had enjoyed a full sip did Hazel place the wine down and answer the editor-in-chief’s question. “I won’t be testifying against your father,” she said.

“Oh come on, do you really think Oliver is going to keep you around forever?” replied Philomena, talking down to the secretary, “He will replace you the minute he finds someone younger and more beautiful.”

Hazel smirked. “Do you think I’m that ignorant kid?” she said, it was her turn now to patronize Philomena. “I have been benefiting from Oliver since the first day we started seeing one another, and rest assured, by the time he is done with me I would have acquired enough to live out the rest of my days in luxury.”

Hazel finished her Dorwinion and left a gold coin on the table beside the empty glass. “I know you’re out for blood kid, but you can’t bring down Oliver,” she said casually, rising from her seat and strapping her purse over one of her bony shoulders, “If you’re that desperate to get back at daddy for trying to kill you, why not just go to the Hill Watch?”

“Right,” scoffed Philomena, “like I’m going to ask Vincent Snapdragon and his boys for help.”

Hazel shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, beginning to walk away before pausing and turning to Philomena one last time. “Oh,” added Hazel, “ and if you even think about writing another article in your Hill Journal about me, I’ll make sure whatever goons Oliver sends after you this time actually finish the job.”

Philomena snickered, watching Hazel strut snobbishly out of The Pony. She downed her pint of Old Hill and pitched her silver coin at the head of Barliman Butterbur.

“Hey Fatty!” she yelled, “how ‘bout another round?”

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Uhta Halsad

The grating shriek of knife was scraped across a barren plate, seeking albeit in vain to harvest some delight not yet spent. The still smacking lips of the Umbarian fell to a faltering finish, and a frown, as he scrutinised his hoard of emptied crockery with, first suspicion, and then afterwards, dismay. The feast, it seemed, was done. For at least so long as it would take for the cooks here to produce a new round of treats. Breakfast they had claimed would be worth the waking for. And after such a spread this eve, he certainly meant to challenge that boast !

Leaning back in his seat Uhta wiped his mouth of crumbs by the back of one hand. The other laid upon his satisfied gut in a happy, sedated state, as he opened and closed his dark eyes sleepily. Both the serving wenches had ceased coming to see to his needs now, and his comrade was clearly lost in mirth of his own cleverness, reading and smirking at his newspaper. Kfir didn’t even seem to stir, as the younger, and wider, Corsair found his way to his feet. The chair which had held up manfully for so long under his weight, screamed now at the startling drag over tiled floor, pulling all manner of crumbs and spillage in it’s begrudging wake. But the Man yawned brazenly, and rubbed one bleary eye so it might find the stairs. There was a rancid sort of fetor slowly unfurling by now from near the bar, which threatened to turn Uhta’s stomach, in a violent clash against all the tantalising treats he had filled it with this eve. Wrinkling his nose, he rounded, and tight-roped wide feet across the great expanse of floor.

Finally, the bannister caught in both arms, like a bear embracing a fresh catch of fish, Uhta started ever so slowly up the stairs. He padded one foot after the other, with one hand poking in a pocket that did not wish to be found, for the room key. It was hope that the two girls out of the kitchen might be yet found in his waiting bath which saw him, eventually, to his destination. The fact that the destination was not quite his room troubled the Umbarian not one little piece, for the door to the unassigned chamber broke easily under his hefty tumble, and the bed was not too steep to climb off the cool floor. Swimming into a swaddle of sheets and blankets, Uhta commenced with a proud performance of snoring that saw anyone who might have dared take advantage of his exposed, snoozing self, hastily seen off, by the fear that he might at any moment wake ..




Erfaron Silugnir and Ospiel Iuliel

The Sinda caught the tail end of her lightless, sodden mane, and wrung it out unashamedly on the floor, awaiting for the barkeep’s response to that, since he had not yet seen fit to answer a decent question. The knowing glance from her friend was warning enough that she ought not hold her breath. Having spent some moments in tilted head intrigue, Erfaron gave up waiting on Astaro to finish either spying out where his hat had been flung, or else spying on the two fair ladies who were quarrelling at a table in that general direction.

More than enough,Silugnir shrugged and, reclaiming his arsenal, beat a composed retreat up the staircase, having satisfied a hard glance back at any patron fool enough to meet his eye. Between the hat and the women, he didn’t expect to hold Astaro’s attention, and had no care to compete with either idle distraction. An abandoned bronze key was the only thing worth stalling his progress, but briefly, and the Elf retrieved that in a swift fluid motion up from the floor, en route. Ospiel hesitated only long enough to stalk around the untended bar, help herself to a bottle of unopened whisky, and stow it under the arm unburdened by her gathered tools. So equipped, she chased her lost companion up to find where he seemed to know he was going. Silugnir had been to Bree before, after all. Which was why, according to him, it had taken over three hours for her to convince him they should traverse here. A filth pit thick with incessant pests would be more charming, he had warned her. But as she pointed out, that would still be a vast improvement on where they had just come from. Barely, he had conceded. But barely had been just enough.

It had been a hell of a day, but the hot, drawn soapy bath which waited behind the locked door, was worth a small exchange of smiles. As had pointing and shhhing, when passing a large Man collapsed on his (well, it was his now. And the stars help anyone who tried to argue otherwise !) bed, still dressed, doorway framing the sight. Taking time only to secure the nearby door of Uhta’s actual assigned room behind them, the two Elves found welcome relief in the refreshing water, and the prospect of the massive, ready-made bed. Having dunked each other quite determinedly with mirth and bubbles, the whisky was named as judge to whom should have the bed this time. Somewhere before the elixir ever tolled it's score, the drinking contest left both bathed and recovered Elves at repose on the floor.


How close the two respective sets of guests had come to a chance encounter, and all it might have led to is now utterly beside the point. The night earned the Corsair and the Elves each a calm and utterly uneventful night. The one departed after depleting the kitchens for his breaking of fast, and set off to meet the duty which had brought him and his crew this far from home. The two were gone before the dawn, with only the cold, dirty water and an empty bottle to tell they were ever there at all. The smell that lingered in their wake a while still, would never be explained to Bree, who surely were just glad when it finally dissipated.
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@Arnyn

Gwestion & Gladhron
Traveling with the Millson family, and Celume
Third Age - before the War of the Ring
Continued from here

After a lengthy journey, they had finally arrived. Gladhron and Celume rejoined the rest of their party once they were within the walls of Bree, and it was a relief to turn the bandit captives over to the Hill Watch of Bree, and relinquish the responsibility of the prisoners over to the local authorities. Once that was done, it was unanimous that all of them would spend the night at an inn, even the Millsons. They still had a ways to go to get to their new property, and they had no idea how much work would need to be done to the place when they got there, so it was far more comfortable to get a room at the Prancing Pony. They could rent a horse from the proprietor, and go out there to begin moving in when morning came.

As for Gladhron and Gwestion, the latter had dismounted upon leaving the bandits with the Hill Watch, and both walked alongside their respective horses while they headed for the inn, which Gladhron remembered them staying at when they were there years before. While Celume went to get her horse unhitched from the Millson's wagon, the brothers went to get their horses stabled, and soon came inside to get a room. There was a bit of a wait, as the innkeeper seemed to be terribly busy, but at last he arrived, and they asked for a room with two beds. Thinking ahead, they also informed him that there would be a family of three, two adults and a child, coming along in a moment and that they would also be wanting a room. And, that there was also a woman coming along who would want one, as well.

Before long, they were ushered into a room and given the spiel about where everything was, and to ring if they needed anything. The innkeeper was gone in a whirl of business, before either could even say thank you. Gladhron tossed his saddlebags onto the bed by the window before Gwestion could claim it, which was little surprise. Gwestion put his things down more carefully, on the floor, out of the way. "Certainly different from the Forsaken inn, isn't it?" Gladhron asked, somewhat rhetorically.

"Mhmm." Gwestion refrained from rolling his eyes, since he figured it was only his brother's attempt at bringing up Bel again, so he could tease him. "If you're planning to go down to the common room, you might want to take advantage of the bath first." He suggested, since he assumed Gladhron would rather go to where there were a lot more people. "It is quite different from the Forsaken Inn," he reminded his brother, wryly. Meaning of course, the place was full of people, by the sound of it, as opposed to the other, less frequented inn.

"Oh, I will," Gladhron assured him, rolling his eyes. "But are you going to come down, too?" He asked. "You should, you know."

"I don't know, I thought I might go look for the blacksmith stall we were told about." Gwestion shrugged.

"Really?" Gladhron stared at him incredulously, and shook his head. Of course Gwestion would be thinking of getting their business taken care of as soon as possible, so they could move on. But Gladhron wanted to take his time and enjoy being here for a little while, at least. "That'll be closed up by now, you know. Almost everything is. Come on, you never know but that you might hear some interesting story." He grinned, trying to persuade him.

Gwestion had to admit that Gladhron was right about the first thing, anyway. Most businesses would be closed by now, of course. He let out a soft sigh, and glanced at the sword he had laid beside him on the bed. He definitely didn't want to bring that along, but neither did he want to leave it here, in case there were thieves. This city was unfamiliar to him. "I'll think about it." He answered his brother, eventually.

Rolling his eyes, Gladhron gathered some things from one of his saddlebags, then went to make use of the washroom. After a while, he re-emerged in cleaner clothes, and observed Gwestion lying back on his bed, not asleep, but not looking fully awake, either. "So, what are you going to do, mope around and daydream about Bel?" He asked with a teasing smile.

Gwestion sighed, turning his eyes upward to the ceiling briefly, then sat up and frowned at Gladhron. "I'm not moping, nor am I daydreaming." He informed his brother, slightly annoyed. "I was thinking how I might investigate those supplies that have failed to arrive at the other inn, if you must know. As well as the innkeeper who bought it from the Graylakes.. who never showed up."

"Hmm.. well, don't you think you'd be more successful in that endeavor, if you go down to where the people are, and ask some questions, instead of sitting around up here thinking about it?"

Gwestion frowned. That wasn't quite what he'd meant... he had been trying to think of the best way to go about asking questions, where to ask, and whom to ask these questions to. But now that Gladhron pointed it out, he realized there weren't many other places besides the inn's common room where he would find people to ask these questions. At least, not until tomorrow. "Fine." He gave in, rolling his eyes. Gladhron was persistent, that was for sure. "Why don't you go on and get us a table or something. I'll meet you down there." He got up slowly and dug out his own set of clean clothes before heading to the washroom for his own turn at cleaning up.

Grinning, and wondering if Gwestion would really come down to join him, or if he had only said that to get Gladhron to stop pestering him, Gladhron set off to the common room. He was really looking forward to some sort of meal like he and Celume had talked about, and wondered, too, if she might end up coming down there as well. It would be nice to be around a room full of people, but even nicer to have someone around that he knew already.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

Celume came in with the Millsons and let them arrange for their room first. She spoke to the innkeeper after that, and as it turned out he had a room key basically at the ready for her, as if he had previously prepared it. One of his employees showed her to the room, and she asked whether or not a hot bath would be a possibility. (Along with some coin to skew the answer in her favor.) The youngster seemed rather enthusiastic even, and soon came running with hot water to heat up the rest of the tub. When he'd finished, and the key was turned in the lock, Celume thus enjoyed the first thing on her list of luxuries. It felt great to wash off all the dirt - and also to wash her hair. She almost felt like a different person once she'd gotten dressed in her last clean set of practical clothes, which included black trousers, her last shirt - coloured the same deep brown as her eyes - and a sleeveless black vest that laced up at the front. Brushing out her long hair took longer than getting dressed, but - at last - she could pull on her high, brown leather boots.

She gathered her dirty clothes. Before going to the common room, she requested with the innkeeper whether her clothes could be laundered. They could, and so she left the clothes and paid up front. She put one elbow on the bar, thinking about what she would order first, and second - and turned halfway around to survey the common room. Inns like these could go either way, depending on the night - meaning, the crowd. However, nothing as of yet stood out to her as dangerous or a red flag. She wondered whether Gladhron was here already, and scanned the room for him. At least he had made it pretty clear he meant to have a good meal here, so he would be here sooner or later. Whether Gwestion would join him, she did not know. But even Gwestion had to eat, right? When she finally found Gladhron among the patrons of the inn, she turned back to the barkeep. "Do you have any beef stew tonight?" she inquired.

He nodded. "Well, we have beef sausages and mash, miss. Or the best venison stew in all of Breeland."

Excellent. Celume smiled happily. Since she wasn't sure whether or not Gwestion was joining them and what he would like or dislike, she didn't order anything yet. But as it was, she would wait to see whether or not they could be expecting Gwestion to join them this evening. "Can I have some bread slices already, good man? I'll take them to a table myself. I'm starving - some freshly baked bread would get me and my friends started while we discuss the other fine options you have for us." That earned her a smile, and soon a basket with bread and butter was in front of her.

"Drinks, miss?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what they like," she said regretfully. "But..." her eyes skimmed the board behind the bar. "Well, I'll take two of those lemonades." If Gladhron didn't like it, she could drink them both, she supposed.

And so, with a bread basket in the crook of her arm and a glass in each hand, she approached the ranger who'd already made it down. "Figured we might as well get started," she said amicably, putting down the two glasses on the as of yet empty table. "Fresh bread," she said emphatically, not hiding that she was a fan, as she put the basket down in the middle and sat down with a genuinely happy smile. "This evening, life is good!" she declared, raising one of the glasses. "I don't know if you drink lemonade. If not you may want to go order something else," she laughed. "I figured to better keep the hot chocolate for the end. Sweets for dessert, and all that." Even if she hadn't seen it on the menu, she'd seen milk. And what inn didn't have some chocolate on hand they could just melt?
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Gladhron
Common room with Celumë
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

Entering the bustling common room, Gladhron looked around with a smile. It was exciting to see so many people around. Potential people to socialize with, possibly make friends. There were a few available tables, and he soon found one that would be big enough for four people to sit comfortably together. He wasn't sure whether Celume would come and join them, or if she would remain in her room to bathe and eat. Perhaps she was tired, now that they were actually here, but he figured on leaving room for her to join them, just in case.

He settled in and smiled faintly as he listened to some of the locals telling a story about some sort of prank some kids had done. He grinned slightly to himself and leaned back in his seat, glancing toward the door. Still no Gwestion. He let out a little sigh, but shrugged to himself and looked around again, trying to decide if he should order food now, or wait. He was very hungry by now, but what if he ordered, ate, and then Gwestion came down just as he was finishing? But just about the time he was trying to decide, Celume appeared at the table with a basket of bread and two drinks in hand.

Surprised, Gladhron looked up and smiled. "Ah, you did come!" He grinned. "I wondered if you were still planning to, or if your bath was so enjoyable you wouldn't want to leave it." He made a welcoming motion for her to take a seat. "Lemonade sounds great, thank you. I hope you got a nice room?" He checked, accepting one of the glasses. "We mentioned to the innkeeper that you would be wanting a room and a bath." He admitted. "We weren't sure how long you'd be, but figured they could get it started in advance and maybe have it ready by the time you got in the room."

"Mm, that bread smells wonderful." He was extremely hungry, but motioned for her to get the first piece. "Ladies first," He smiled, then glanced to the door again. "Gwestion says he's coming, but I don't know if he really will, nor how long he'll be." He frowned slightly, thinking, unsure if they should start without him or wait a bit. "What do you think, should we order or wait a bit longer? He was just going in to wash up when I came down." He mentioned, undecided about that. Once Celume had gotten a piece of bread, he did the same, and happily took a bite. Fresh, soft bread, instead of hard travel biscuits. And butter! Amazing.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"Of course I came!" She had to laugh quietly as he said maybe she hadn't wanted to leave her bath. "Baths are nice, and this one was very welcome, but they do cool off. Not too mention the fact that we spoke about food too much on the way here to miss out on any now. And, yes, the room is nice, but I see no reason to eat in a room all by myself when I could be eating out here, in good company." Celume's expression made it clear there really had been no choice to make. Glad he accepted the lemonade, she smiled at him. "Besides, you promised me another story." Sort of. 'Promised' might be stretching it a little.

The admission that they had mentioned to the innkeeper that she would be coming in for a room and a bath, explained the ridiculously fast way they'd handled her arrival. "Ahh," she nodded with some understanding. "It did seem like they were expecting both the Millsons and myself. Here I have the culprit! How did your brother react when you told the innkeeper I'd be wanting a bath?" she laughed. Gwestion had not been present when she'd told Gladhron, after all, and some men became uncomfortable when women spoke of those things, however basic such necessities were. She dimly wondered whether Gwestion would think it inappropriate conversation. She didn't think he would. Rangers tended to be more practically-minded. But you never knew, and it wasn't like she had known these two for long.

When Gladhron told her 'Ladies first,' Celume shrugged one shoulder and didn't hesitate to take a slice of bread and bite a good chunk out of it. Her eyes roamed the inn's common room while Gladhron said his brother had claimed he would join them, but that he wasn't sure whether the man would actually follow through. With a mildly puzzled expression, Celume's dark eyes returned to Gladhron just when she'd swallowed down the piece of bread. "We should wait," she said, once again as if there was really no choice to make. "If he told you he'd come, why wouldn't he?" She tore off another piece of bread, this time a much smaller one, so she could swallow it down much faster. "I know I would be disappointed if I had told you I'd come join you two for dinner but you had already started without me." She blinked. "Not that I would be in a position to demand that you two would wait for a woman you hardly know - the comparison doesn't quite hold, I know. It is simply... more agreeable to eat when others are eating."

"If he really ends up taking too long, you can go look for him," she added, a little mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes as she sipped her lemonade. "Drag him out of his self-imposed solitude. Into a bit of fun. Or at least a more relaxed evening than one out on the road or in the wilds of Eriador."
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Gladhron
Common room with Celumë
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"Indeed, I did," Gladhron replied with a grin when she reminded him he had (practically) promised a story. "I agree, why eat all alone when you could come eat with other people? But I wasn't sure what your preference would be after a long day of traveling. I'm glad to know my company is preferred to solitude, at least." He laughed lightly. "In your opinion anyway, I'm not sure Gwestion always agrees, but.." He shrugged. "Sometimes I'm glad for other company than his, so I suppose it works out."

When asked how Gwestion reacted to the bath, he laughed. "His reaction was to inform me that I needed one, too." He admitted. "Though, I have to confess that it was his idea to tell the innkeeper that you and they were coming. I only asked about getting the bath water ready, since I knew you'd said you wanted a bath." He explained with a smile. "And then he insisted I go first, and I'm not sure if I should be offended, or if he was only being nice so I could come down here first." He added, looking a bit amused.

After she had taken a piece of bread, he grabbed one as well and put some butter on it before enjoying the first bite. "Mmm," He hummed in happiness at the fresh warm bread, and fresh butter. He glanced at her in slight surprise when she asked about Gwestion, before realizing she'd slightly misunderstood. "Oh, I only meant that I'm not sure how long he will be." He explained. "Whether he will come in the next five minutes, or more like thirty or more. In fact, I thought he looked like he might doze off before he got up to take his turn cleaning up." He definitely didn't want to have to wait half an hour before even ordering food, and then might have to wait that much longer for it to be cooked. But, if they ordered now it might be finished about the time his brother arrives, so the timing was a bit difficult.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

She waved what was left of her slice of bread. "To be fair, I've only known you for a day or two. Gwestion has known you all his life. Who knows how long I'd haul myself up in my room if the same were true for me?" Celumë was obviously amused, and her amusement only increased at his next words. "You both did," she laughed, unafraid to say so since they'd all been in the same boat, really. "Maybe he let you go first because he wanted some time alone, even if only briefly," she added more thoughtfully. "I've known plenty of people with such a proclivity. Sometimes, I am one of them," she admitted. "We usually have our reasons."

When Gladhron explained what he'd meant, Celumë recognized she'd misunderstood him. "Oh. I had no idea you knew what his order would be. Sorry. Maybe Gwestion will have already arrived by the time you make up your mind about your order. I'm still in doubt. They don't have beef stew, apparently. They do have a venison stew, though." She never shot a deer, even if she encountered one. A waste of food for just her alone. "Or beef sausages. They also have some other things that sound good. But I'm in doubt between the stew and the sausages." She paused to take another sip of lemonade, her eyes widening as she thought of the feast that lay before her. "Then, I was thinking - pie. Apple or cherry..." Celume shot Gladhron a grin. "Maybe both."
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Gladhron
Common room with Celumë
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

Gladhron grinned at the suggestion that perhaps she wouldn't have been in such a hurry if she'd known him longer. "Perhaps," He agreed with a little shrug. "Knowing him, he did want some time alone." He held back a sigh at this. Of course Gwestion would want to be alone, he seemed to want to be alone a lot, but Gladhron thought it would be better for him to be around other people, socializing and maybe actually making friends.

"I suggest we wait no more than fifteen minutes," He decided when his stomach complained. "And if he still hasn't come by then, we can place our order and I'll go and drag him out of his self-imposed solitude." He said, amused at her wording about it earlier. He shrugged when she expressed surprise at him knowing Gwestion's food order. "Well, as you said, I've known him all his life. I know him well enough to make a good guess if needed, anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be exactly what he would order if he were here to pick for himself, but I rarely guess wrong. Or, he rarely complains about it, anyway." He laughed slightly and looked again to the door. "Although," He snickered at a new thought, "If he isn't here in time to order for himself, maybe I ought to order something he wouldn't like, and maybe that'd teach him to hurry next time." He was only joking but found the thought rather amusing even if he wouldn't really do it.

"As for me," He added, when she mentioned venison stew and sausage, "I've had venison and rabbit and pheasant and whatever I could hunt, so much the past few months, that I'm a little sick of them." He admitted. "I heard something about roast beef, and I was thinking I might go with that, and a side of mashed potatoes, with gravy over all... that sounds amazing to me." He wasn't really sure why they had a pot of mustard to go with the roast beef but figured he'd just decline that part.

"Hmm, I wonder if they'd have any savory pies.." He added thoughtfully, after she mentioned a couple of fruit flavors. "I bet Gwestion would like a chicken pie, if they've got it. Might cheer him up a bit," He commented, wondering how difficult it would be for them make specially upon request. "I thought the plum cobbler sounded really good for dessert. With hot chocolate," He added the last bit with a grin.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:18 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

A nod confirmed her agreement with Gladhron's suggestion and she smiled when he repeated her earlier turn of phrase. Hearing that Gwestion rarely complained when Gladhron ordered food for him, Celumë's gaze grew a little whistful. "Must be nice," she said,"To share your travels with someone you know that well and with whom you can be so comfortable." Her brother and she walked paths that were too different to do much of the sort, even though they visited one another regularly enough. "I cannot really imagine weeks or months on the road with my brother," she mentioned, before busing herself with another slice of bread - which, once again, she did not butter. "I've travelled with other people, but they would have never ordered for me in an inn, I think." Not for the reason Gladhron likely imagined (that they didn't know her well enough), but rather because it was not really done to order something for a ranking officer.

The idea of intentionally ordering something Gwestion wouldn't like, made her snicker, but she shook her head at the same time. "Don't," she appealed to Gladhron, even though it looked like he was only joking. "He might never let you forget it."

Celumë watched Gladhron for a moment. "I very rarely have venison on the road. It is simply too much food for one person. And it doesn't feel right to kill a whole deer if I am forced to leave most of it behind." The mention of gravy brought forth a smile. "Oh, gravy. That can be so good. I might actually need those fifteen minutes," she laughed quietly. "Though I suppose I can just have something else tomorrow."

"Why would chicken pie cheer him up?" she asked, before raising one eyebrow. "Good memories?" She leaned forward a bit, conspiratorially. "Girlfriend memories?" she guessed.
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Gladhron
Common room with Celumë
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"Oh, you have a brother?" he was mildly surprised to hear, and was curious about what her brother might be like, if she thought the idea of traveling with him for an extended period would not be do-able. It occurred to him then, wondering what it would have been like if his sister were traveling with them both. He found it difficult to imagine, and mentally shrugged. More than likely, she would have been brought to someplace safe and they would come back to see her when they could. Maybe, they would stay there more often, instead of traveling all the time in constant search for her. Because, of course, if they had their sister, they wouldn't need to go looking for her everywhere, all the time.

He let out a little snort of laughter when she mentioned that Gwestion might not let him forget about it, if he ordered something he disliked. "Indeed, he has far too good of a memory already, concerning things that I would rather be forgotten." He shook his head lightly. "But then, I can't say I don't do the same back to him." He grinned. "That's what big brothers are for, you know. Teasing, looking out for the younger ones, all of that comes together." He informed her with an amused look on his face.

As Celume mentioned the matter of venison, he nodded in agreement. "Oh, yes, I understand that. If it was just the two of us, out in the wilds, far from any towns, we would have had the same problem," He agreed. "You know, if you're near enough to a town or village, you could always take what you can use of a deer, and bring the rest to either sell or give away to someone who needs the meat." He mentioned as a suggestion, in case that was something she had not thought of before. "We happened to be at the Forsaken Inn for the past few months. I did a lot of hunting during that time.. mainly deer and rabbits that tried to eat up the garden. There's a smokehouse there, too, so the meat can be preserved well enough." He explained, in case she wondered why he'd had so much of deer meat, that he was anxious for a change.

Hearing her question about Gwestion and the chicken pie, he laughed, then leaned closer as he matched the secretive tone, "well, Bel did bring him one, once, and it made him very happy." He admitted with a grin. "But, actually," the grin faded as he resumed a normal expression and shrugged slightly. "It's just his favorite dish, as far as I know. Ever since he was very young." He smiled faintly with a vague reminiscence. "Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, 'mother memories'. She taught him how to cook, you know. That's why he's so good at it." He mentioned, with a little hint of pride in his brother's ability. "I used to tease him about hanging around the kitchen with our mother, and.. well, all that sort of thing," he cleared his throat, slightly awkward as he had been about to say, 'doing woman type stuff'. "but now.. I have to admit, I'm glad one of us learned how to cook well. I'm no good at any of that."

Looking around, he wondered how much time had passed. Had it been ten minutes? Fifteen? He was feeling impatient, or more like, his stomach was telling him it was well past time to eat. "I think I might find someone and make inquiries about that," He decided, figuring he might as well find out about the pie before he got too caught up with the idea of getting that for Gwestion. "Anything you'd like me to ask about, while I'm at it?"
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"Yes, I know," she told him when he said older brothers were tasked with both teasing and looking out for the younger siblings. "I have shared that experience. My brother is a few years older, too. We get along well," she added, suddenly thinking she might have given the wrong idea. "But we have never travelled furth-" She caught herself from saying they had never travelled together further than from Ithilien to Minas Tirith. "We have never travelled far together," she retook the sentence. "He is too pretty and likeable," she laughed. "Things tend to come very easily for him. And when he stays at my place, he tends to be an incredible slob," she grinned. "So I wouldn't want to imagine what he gets like on the road after a while." She paused and smiled genuinely. "I love him." There was an undeniable emphasis there, a truth that was beyond reproach before the smile faded. "But he can be a pain in my ass," she shared more soberly, though the hint of a smile was still tugging on the corner of her lips. "Also comes with the sibling territory, I suppose?"

She nodded thoughtfully at his suggestion. Could be a good way to make some money, when she would start getting low on coin.

The chicken pie being more about mother memories maybe than girlfriend memories, made her smile. She raised an eyebrow when Gladhron said he used to make fun of his brother for spending a lot of time in the kitchen with their mother. "All that sort of thing?" But she decided to drop it. "You don’t cook much then? Do you take care of the dishes after?" She inquired, then finished her second slice of bread. "I'm not the best cook, nor the worst. I have a few staples I can do really well, I suppose. Other than those, I am sure your brother could cook circles around me."

"You can ask if they actually have hot chocolate," she suggested. "Because I didn’t see it on the drinks menu when I was by the bar earlier."
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Gladhron
Common room with Celumë
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

Listening as Celume spoke about her brother, Gladhron nodded in sympathy to hear that she was the younger, and that he was a pain to deal with. "Sorry to hear that, but I am glad to hear you get along well enough when you are together. Alas, that is indeed part of the 'older sibling package', I suppose." He added with a little laugh. It had sounded like she'd changed what she was about to say, when she mentioned traveling together, but he didn't ask. However, he looked a bit amused, as well as further sympathetic, upon hearing that her brother was an incredible slob. "Wow, that must be so annoying," He mentioned, shaking his head in disbelief. "And he leaves you to clean up after him?" He asked, incredulously.

He tilted his head in thought as she asked whether he cleaned up the dishes. "We usually split our tasks equally," he decided. "Sometimes we flip a coin to decide who will do this task, and who will do that. Like we did at the camp this morning," He mentioned with a shrug. Once she had given an answer to the question of whether she had anything she'd like him to ask about, he nodded. "Alright then, I shall make inquiries." He declared with a smile. "I do hope so. It's been a very long time since I had hot chocolate," He added wistfully, then stood up and set off to find out where he could make such inquiries.



Gwestion
Entering the common room - joining Celume

Cleaning himself up didn't take Gwestion as long as it had Gladhron, for he didn't linger or take his time about it. He did take some time to check each of his recently healed wounds, making sure everything looked well, and then took some time carefully checking and re-cleaning the scratch on his cheek. It was already looking better, despite what that bandit woman had claimed. Not wanting to worry his brother, nor Celume, he had not shared everything with the others, as far as what she had said to him. Yet, despite the fact that he had ignored her and pretended not to believe her claims of having poisoned her blades, he had been thinking about it the whole way, and had been anxious to get a look at his wound.

Once he had satisfied himself that the wound was clean, no more than a scratch, and healing well already, he relaxed a bit. He had noticed no strange feeling around the area, or anywhere else, so he felt more convinced that she had only been bluffing. He decided he'd ask for a little honey down in the common room, since he had none in his bag of supplies, and he figured that should help keep any infection from setting in. Honey.. that was something else that they would have to restock on.

After getting dressed in a fresh set of clothes, he came out of the washroom, then went to the open window and looked out, taking a deep breath in. The stars were out by now, since they had arrived just before dark. He smiled faintly, recalling the night Bel had insisted that he come outside with her, though he had to use crutches to do so, and had not wanted to try it, in case he couldn't do it. She had certainly pushed him to get used to walking again when he thought he wasn't ready yet, and he was very grateful for that. He wished she would have agreed to come along with them to Bree, for he felt uneasy about her staying at the inn by herself. Especially without the supplies that had been due for months. He wondered if those bandits were responsible for that, but whatever the case, the sooner they could get some supplies back to her, the better. He was also concerned about the man who had bought the inn from the Graylakes, yet never showed up to take charge of it. That was another matter to look into, but he figured they wouldn't be able to find anything out until at least the morning. Letting out a little sigh, he closed the window, latched it, and pulled the curtains closed before turning to take a look at the room.

Gladhron had carelessly tossed his weapons and armor on his bed. Right by the window, which had been left open. Rolling his eyes slightly, Gwestion moved them to where they were not out in plain sight, and then did the same with his own, just in case. While he hoped there would be no thieves around here, it seemed better not to take that chance and leave things lying around where anyone might see things in their room worth stealing. Best not to tempt fate, after all.

After hanging up both their cloaks on the hook behind the door, he took another look around the room and sighed heavily. He shook his head as he went around picking up clothes and several other things that Gladhron had left strewn about the room, trying to neaten up a little. "Really..? He only passed through briefly.. how did he manage to make this much of a mess?" He muttered to himself, a little amazed as well as annoyed. It looked as if he had dug through every one of his saddlebags to find the things he wanted out of them, and then left everything else flung out of his bags, spread across the room. Gwestion stuffed his brother's things back into his saddlebags and set those on the floor beside the bed, on the side nearest the window so that it wasn't immediately in view if anyone happened to open the door, although he would hope no one would be intruding into the room. Eventually, satisfied with the neatness of the room, he left, locking the door behind him, and set off down the stairs for the common room.

Pausing at the bottom step as it entered the common room, he scanned the busy room slowly in search of his brother, while also briefly scanning each person who was in the room. It seemed like a good idea to get an idea of who was there, and be at least vaguely familiar with the faces of those around him. In doing so, he recognized Celume, sitting at a table alone. He didn't see Gladhron around anywhere, but he thought Gladhron had mentioned something about how she had planned to join them or something. With another look around the room at the others in the room, he quietly made his way toward her.

"Celume," He greeted her quietly, though he had to speak up a bit because of some lively singing that had started up with a group at another table. "Have you seen Gladhron?" He wondered if his brother had already grown tired of waiting and wandered off to find some strangers to hang out with. "He was supposed to get us a table, and wait for me, but I was.. delayed," He explained, without actually explaining what had delayed him.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"It is," she confirmed when he said that must be really annoying. Then she laughed. "Well, I'm not his mother. I don't clean up after him at his place. But sometimes he comes for a visit and stays at my place - that's when it becomes a challenge." She usually just chucked everything of his back into the guest room at those times, so it wasn't that bad. She just wished he would realise more how annoying it was when things were all in different places than she preferred to have them. Blankets, books, cups,... With a little sigh, she let the memories go.

When Gladhron said he would make inquiries, she smiled. "Why thank you, kind sir." Her tone was embellished, amused, and she kept the smile as he expressed his hopes and started weaving his way through the crowd gathered in the inn's common room.

Celumë took to watching some of the other patrons while she finished her glass of lemonade. It didn't seem like much time had passed when she spotted Gwestion making his way toward the table. She nodded at him with a half smile, which grew a little at his words. "Hey, Gwestion. Yes, your brother is here," she said, pointing at what was left of Gladhron's glass of lemonade. "He's gone to make some inquiries about chicken pie and hot chocolate," she said, unreserved in sharing what they had been speaking of. A little belatedly, she regretted it. "Hmm. Though I now realize Gladhron probably meant the chicken pue to be a surprise for you, in case they agree to make it, since it doesn't appear to be on the menu. Maybe you could help me out and forget I mentioned anything?" Curious to what he might say to that, she slanted her head and assessed his expression. "Please, sit. Gladhron should be right back."
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Gwestion
Entering the common room - joining Celume

It was not too surprising when Celume said that Gladhron was here, since that is where he was supposed to be, but it was a surprise to hear that he had gone to make inquiries.. about chicken pie? and hot chocolate! While those sounded like a somewhat odd combination if they were meant to be consumed together, he didn't mind. Both were delicious. A small smile lit his face at hearing that Gladhron had gone to inquire about those particular items. "Really?" He asked, trying not to sound too amazed, but.. well, he wasn't entirely sure which surprised him more; that Gladhron would actually think of doing something like this just to be nice, or that he had even remembered that Gwestion liked that dish.

Hearing that it was probably meant to be a surprise, he gave a tiny nod. One corner of his mouth raised very slightly as he replied, "I don't recall you mentioning anything.." Resuming a neutral expression afterward, he looked around quietly at all of the other patrons of the inn's common room as he slid into one of the empty seats, which did not have Gladhron's glass of lemonade in front of it. While it was nice to hear that Gladhron had thought of him, and even gone so far as to make inquiries, he rather doubted that some special dish would be made, without asking for a lot of extra coin, anyway. Still, it made him a bit less annoyed with his brother, now. Once he had settled into a seat, he looked toward where he guessed Gladhron might have gone while he took a moment to think of something to say, so not to be sitting in silence while they waited. He turned back to Celume after a moment. "Did you find your room to be comfortable?" He inquired, curious since they had tried to ensure she would have a room ready for her by the time she came in to ask for it.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"Yes, really," she nodded with a smile, recognizing that Gwestion was pleasantly surprised to hear this. He didn't really smile in return, though she thought she saw just a tiny lift to one corner of his mouth before he agreed not to tell Gladhron she had mentioned anything about the chicken pie. Or the hot chocolate, she supposed - even though that wasn't important. Pleased with his agreement, Celumë relaxed and leaned back in her chair, her gaze returning to the bustle of the room.

When Gwestion asked her about her room, she looked back at him with a thankful smile. "Definitely," she reassured him. "And thank you for that, by the way. It was the smoothest arrival at an inn I've ever known. The key was ready and so was the room. For the Millsons as well." she told him. "That was very thoughtful of you, Gwestion. I could tell the family appreciated it. And so did I." She turned her empty glass around a bit, looking for a reaction in his oh so neutral expression. "Gladhron said it was your idea to inform the innkeeper ahead of time," she explained briefly.
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Gwestion
Common room - Sitting with Celume

He was mildly surprised to hear her thanking him, and tilted his head slightly, but when she explained that Gladhron had told her, he wondered why he'd been surprised at all. He gave a small nod in confirmation. "It was," He admitted. "I'm glad it went smoothly for you. I.. had a suspicion that you may have traveled a long distance before meeting my brother and me." He explained. "As I know how that can be, and I did know you and they would be coming along soon.." He trailed off and let a small shrug speak for him the rest of the way. "The innkeeper seemed rather busy," he added. "We had to wait for him to have a moment to help us. So, I figured we'd try to spare you the same."

He looked around, wondering how much longer Gladhron would be. "Did Narsule get settled into the stable well enough?" He asked, wondering if she had asked to tend to her horse personally, or if she had let the stable-hobbit take care of him. Gwestion and Gladhron had requested to take care of their horses themselves, as they usually did. "He did very well, pulling the Millson's wagon," He mentioned. "I doubt that Mael would have done it nearly as well, for she is not trained for such a task. Nor is Gaeroch."
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

She laughed when he said he'd suspected she'd been traveling a long time before meeting with him and Gladhron. "Oh no," she said, grinning, "was the smell really that bad?" Still grinning, all the more because she knew it had not been, she nodded at his explanation. "You definitely spared the Millsons and myself the same. It was nice." Her smile turned more serious, though still relaxed. "Hence my thanks."

The question about Nársulë was unexpected, but it definitely kept the smile on her face. Not something she had really expected in a one-on-one conversation with Gwestion, based on their interactions thus far. "Yes, he did," she replied. "I made sure he got settled in well. I mostly look after him myself, but especially today, after pulling that wagon and spending so little time together, I wanted to be certain we had some time for just the two of us." She had always made sure of that, even in Minas Tirith. Unless she'd been off on a multiple day mission that had not allowed for horses. Realizing that she'd have to be a bit careful if she didn't want the brothers to know where exactly she came from and what exactly had been her profession, her expression grew a little thoughtful as she nodded to Gwestion's compliment for her horse. "I've trained him for different things," she said a bit more slowly. "Wagons are one of them. He is really strong," she said with a proud note to her tone. "And while Mael and Gaeroch might not have done as well with the wagon, they both look faster than my Nársulë," she returned the favor. They probably were, anyway.
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Gwestion
Common room - Sitting with Celume

When Celume asked if the smell had been that bad, Gwestion was very briefly caught by surprise that she would think he was implying that, before quickly realizing she was only teasing. Like Gladhron would do. He gave a little shake of his head as he let out a slightly amused breath that served almost as a laugh. "No, of course not," He assured her, despite the fact she was most likely only teasing. "There were other factors which I observed, which contributed to me reaching such a conclusion," He added with little shrug. "Though if I am wrong, feel free to correct me."

He nodded as she explained wanting some time with her horse, and gave a faint smile. He absolutely understood that, and he had in fact been in that place only the day before, having spent several hours apart from her. Not to mention the several months when he'd been stuck in bed, unable to walk. The faint smile grew a tiny bit bigger as she commented on his and Gladhron's horses probably being faster. Talking about horses was a topic he had few objections to, as he saw little harm in discussing this, especially with someone who seemed to also share a deep love for her own horse. "I couldn't say whether they are faster than Narsule," He replied, unwilling to claim anything that was unproven.

"Gaeroch, though, is indeed a swift horse, something which my brother is quite proud of." He confirmed, though he didn't mention that Gladhron often bragged about how much faster his horse was than Gwestion's. "She has longer legs, and therefore a longer stride, than Mael does." He went on, almost feeling compelled to defend his own, smaller, horse. "Mael, however, is more suited for picking out paths where paths are difficult to find, and having sturdy footing when others have difficulty, things like that." He explained. "But they both have some training in battle situations," He added, though he refrained from mentioning that Mael had seemed to take to this training better than Gaeroch had.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"You weren't wrong," she'd admitted with a faint smile before they started talking about the horses. The bit about Gaeroch being faster than Mael, was interesting to her. When Gwestion explained, Celume nodded. "That makes sense," she mused. "Nársulë has more strength than speed, himself," she shared. Part of her wanted to suggest they could race their horses sometime, to see where Nársulë would end up compared to the brothers' mares. But another part of her told her that Gwestion would be ill inclined to agree to such a thing, which he might peg as 'frivolous'. Slanting her head thoughtfully, she tucked away the information about Mael and Gaeroch. Another approach, perhaps.

"When Gladhron and I were covering the wagon from the trees," she began slowly, "We spoke briefly of me possibly joining you two in finding out more about this bandit group." She still thought they would need more people on their side if they were thinking about actually rooting them out, but she already knew Gwestion was of a like mind on that topic. "If you were also in favour, of course. In such a case, it might be good for all of us to know certain things about the horses as well as each other. How fast is the slowest horse, both in the woods and on open ground... in case we need a quick escape. Which of us is least or most skilled at what. So we can move the right piece on the board at the right time. Rather than... winging it." It was a careful suggestion, even if rather business-like, but it made sense to discuss. And she guessed Gwestion was the one to talk to when it came to these things.
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Gwestion
Common room - Sitting with Celume

When she confirmed that he was not wrong about his guess, Gwestion gave a small nod in acknowledgement. He hadn't really had much to back up his guess, so it was nice to hear that he was correct, at least. But he didn't offer any insight into what had given him the idea she had traveled far. Soon enough, the topic had moved on to other things.

He listened curiously as she spoke of investigating more into these bandits, and gave a slow, thoughtful nod as she spoke about that. "Not a bad idea," He agreed hesitantly, surprised because he was not used to anyone suggesting ideas so similar to those he might have thought of. Because on the very few occasions when he and Gladhron had worked with others, he had found it was difficult to form a plan without knowing much about the other individuals involved. While he didn't like telling a lot of personal things about himself, he could see the sense in being aware of each other's skills and abilities if they were going to work together. Although, there was something else on his mind. If they set out after the bandits, that might delay the other matter.. and he didn't like the idea of delaying that too long. After she had finished proposing her thought, he allowed a moment to consider the various things this would mean, and decided that if she was interested in joining them in their efforts, then they might as well let her know a little more about their own plans... or at least, what their plans had been when they set out for Bree.

"I would like to know more about them," He agreed. "It would be preferable to eradicate the entire group and rid the area of their threat, but.." he hesitated. "We were actually coming to Bree because of another matter," He admitted after a moment's thought, and leaned back in the seat as he looked at Celume. "I'd rather not put it off any longer than necessary, although.. having encountered these bandits," He frowned. "I wouldn't be surprised if the two are connected, actually." He had considered the idea before now, as he was riding along, but he had thought it best not to try and ask the female bandit any questions. Especially after he ended up binding her mouth.

He hesitated, unused to being the one to do the talking in such situations.. but he also was pleased that he was given the chance to do it, instead of Gladhron.. who would surely have given far too many details than were necessary. "There is an inn," He began explaining. "The Forsaken Inn, about a day's ride East of here.. under normal circumstances, anyway." he added the last part, knowing it had taken them far longer than that with their own circumstances. "It was owned and run by a man and his wife, who lived there for several years as I understand it. They sold the place a few months ago, to a man whose name I don't know." He went on. "As far as I've been told, the deed was signed, the payment given, and the former owners packed up and left. The staff who chose to remain were told to expect the new owner in a day or two." He paused and frowned, troubled by the rest of what he was about to tell. "That was months ago. The present, temporary caretaker of that inn has been awaiting the new owner all of this time, and growing ever more concerned as the time passes. There has been no news, nor have any supplies come to restock the larder, in all that time. They are currently living off of what's been grown in the garden, and what meat my brother and I were able to put away for them, and what eggs the chickens provide each day."

He drew in a slow breath. "The matter is rather concerning to me. And Gladhron," he didn't want to disclude his brother from it, though Gladhron would likely have teased and claimed that Gwestion was only concerned because of Bel. "Until the former owners sold the place, they used to receive a load of supplies once a month, but since they left, there has been nothing. It's unknown whether any wagonloads of supplies have been sent, and were intercepted and robbed before they could reach their destination... or if no supplies were sent at all, why not? And what has become of the new owner? These questions troubled my brother and I, so we came to investigate."

He sighed. "Having run into the bandits along the way, well.. that makes me wonder if that in itself answers these questions. But if they are not responsible, then I want to find out who is." He looked down at the table thoughtfully. "So, there you have an idea of what our plans were to be... but the bandit problem may have changed things." He looked up again, meeting her gaze. "I don't want to leave those at the inn overlong without supplies or news, but I also want to make sure these bandits will not trouble anyone again." He sighed, somewhat torn about the whole thing.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

Celume listened attentively as Gwestion explained why he and his brother had come to Bree in the first place. She wondered why Gladhron hadn't mentioned any of this. He had only spoken of Gwestion's gear. Was Gladhron better at keeping secrets than Gwestion assumed? Or had it simply slipped his mind? The latter was difficult to imagine. especially because Gladhron had mentioned the inn, and Bel.

She hummed thoughtfully as she considered those things, to give some sort of response at least while she thought it all over. "Gladhron did not mention anything about this inn's predicament," Celume said, "Only that you were coming here to have some gear fixed and possibly replaced." It was best to be honest, wasn't it? Maybe Gwestion would appreciate Gladhron not 'blabbing' about it without Gwestion being there - even if Gwestion was now doing the same thing.

Her index finger tapped the table. "Based on your words, I asumme the supplies come from Bree?" Then it should be easy enough to find out what was happening to them. "So you were planning on visiting the source of the supplies here," she mused. "And if they are still being sent - I assume you were thinking Gladhron and yourself could join the supplies on their way to the inn. Then you could see what happens to them first-hand." Her mind was hopping through what she saw as the most logical chain of events, after only getting a glance at the problem of course - and with limited information. But possibly the brothers knew no more than this themselves. "Do you know who sends the supplies? Could the current caretaker tell you that much?"
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Gwestion
Common room - Sitting with Celume

He blinked in mild surprise when she mentioned his intention to have some gear fixed. "He told you that?" He asked, holding back a little sigh of exasperation. He would have preferred that information not to be spread around.. an enemy could find such information useful, after all. That he had damaged weapons and armor.. it was not something he wanted other people knowing if he could help it.

Trying not to feel too annoyed, since she had proven to be a friend, Gwestion cast a glance around the room, and noticed Gladhron finally emerging through one of the doorways. He turned back to her and considered her other questions. "They always had, before," He confirmed, when she mentioned about the supplies coming from Bree. "I'm not sure of much else, however." He sighed and sat back. "I'm afraid she did not know. The previous innkeeper would send for the supplies, and they would come by wagon, she says, but she wasn't sure of much else beyond that. I've been thinking, the best way to learn what I need to know is.. to speak to this previous innkeeper." He was not looking forward to that, but it seemed necessary. "I know that he and his family moved here, to Bree, after they sold the inn. So, it shouldn't take much effort to locate them. They ought to be able to tell us where they purchased these supplies, and.. when was the last load sent." To be honest, he was a little skeptical that anything had been sent at all, despite their promise to Bel that they would.



Gladhron
A moment later, Gladhron had returned. "So, you finally made it down!" He greeted Gwestion with a laugh as he retook his seat. Gwestion gave a small nod, but didn't comment as Gladhron turned to Celume almost immediately. "So, bad news.. the cook said they do not have hot chocolate." He informed her apologetically, with a slight emphasis on that, in order to let her know that they were going to make the other item. If she picked up on the subtle clue. "Did you decide what meal you're going to have, yet?" He asked her curiously.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"He did," she said, not shying away from a response, as she was starting to recognize or at least starting to assume when Gwestion didn't like that certain information had been shared. "It's not like me knowing you have a broken sword in addition to the one you are carrying - which is quite whole - would give an enemy any sort of an advantage, Gwestion." She almost sounded admonishing there. Her words were just on the edge... of something.
But it was true. He still had a sword with him. What was the problem with anyone knowing he also had another he wanted to get reforged? Even if she did mean them harm, it would not matter if she knew that. "And so what if you have some damaged armour? It is not like I am wearing mine," she added with a mumble - though one he would still pick up on. Besides, armour or not, if she wanted him dead, she was pretty confident that armour would not save him. Yet she thought better of telling Gwestion that particular bit. They did not know each other well enough for it to work as humour - not combined with Gwestion's disposition. He was suspicious and recalcitrant enough as it was.

She nodded thoughtfully when he shared what he thought would be the first steps. "Well," she said, "then us working together on the bandit problem will have to wait until you two have figured out whether the supplies are still being sent. If they are not, that is one mystery solved. If they are, I still feel like it's be best to shadow the next supply wagon. If the bandits are stealing the supplies - two birds, one stone. If something else is going on, we can still help..." she halted a brief moment - "... the inn's temporary caretaker. In actually getting the supplies there." Celumë shrugged. "I did not travel here with any plans or motives. Might as well make myself useful to someone. As long as I am not intruding or my presence is not unwanted."

Gladhron's return came just in time, because Celumë's mood was starting to sink a bit. Something about Gwestion's demeanour kept making her question just how welcome she was to whatever the brothers' plans were. And she did not want to force her presence on him, even if she wanted to help them. So, she could only offer Gladhron half the smile she'd had for him earlier. He would easily link that to the news about there not being any hot chocolate, though - so she figured it would not be an issue.

"Oh," she said. "That is... unfortunate." Great. Just great. Her mood sank just a bit more. Though it sounded like the chicken pie for Gwestion would work out, at least. She resisted the urge to shrug when he asked about her choice of food. "I think I'll have what you were going to have. The roast beef with the gravy. That sounded really good, too." She rose from her seat. "Could you order for me, maybe? Along with some water? I'll be right back." She absolutely refused to speak any words involving the little girls' room. They'd have to draw their own conclusions.
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Gwestion & Gladhron
Common room - Sitting with Celume


Gwestion looked at Celumë while she spoke, while somewhat puzzled about why she seemed suddenly annoyed at him. He couldn't think of anything that he'd said that ought to have made her annoyed, but yet somehow, he must have. He wanted to apologize and sort the issue out, but Gladhron had returned about that time. He fell silent, still thinking for a moment. But then, he thought.. he wasn't supposed to know that Gladhron had done something thoughtful, so why should his brother's return stop him from saying what he would have said, any other time? Leaning forward slightly, he focused his gaze on Celumë, rather than Gladhron, but didn't let the latter's presence bother him. "It isn't the fact that you know about the sword, and my armor, that bothers me, Celumë." He spoke in a calm and quiet tone, only loud enough to be heard by those at their table, and not beyond. "What bothers me, is that I asked my brother to keep that information between us, and he did not. After saying he would."

Gladhron hesitated as he heard this, looking a bit like he'd been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't be doing. "Ohhh.. right. Sorry." He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "I guess I wasn't exactly paying close enough attention to what you said, at the moment... I thought you just said not to tell strangers.. but she's not a stranger now," He added with a tiny smile, as if hoping that would make it all fine. The smile dropped away a second later as he knew by Gwestion's unamused expression that it was not fine. "I'm sorry, Gwestion."

Rolling his eyes at Gladhron's admission that he hadn't even been listening, Gwestion let out a sigh and decided not to respond to that, because he didn't say that for the purpose of starting an argument, but rather, to explain to Celume what he why he was upset. Still, he did want to at least answer what she had said about working together. "Anyway, of course, your presence would be welcome," He informed her. "I had thought you would have had some business of your own to take care of," He added, but she had dispelled that idea by informing them that she had not come here with any plans. "But since you don't, we would welcome the assistance, gladly."

"Absolutely!" Gladhron agreed, eager to change the subject. In fact, he was slightly surprised Gwestion had dropped the other issue so readily, and that he was so willing to accept her help. But then, they had been working together with her for a while, so maybe Gwestion was getting to like her? He really wished he could have come back with a better report about the hot chocolate. Celume seemed quite disappointed about that. He was, too, in fact. "I tried, quite unsuccessfully, to convince them that hot chocolate wasn't all that difficult to make, but they said they were too busy to go looking for chocolate and such." He informed her apologetically. "Sorry." 

As Celume took her own turn leaving the table, Gladhron nodded in answer to her request. "Sure!" He agreed, glad that at least they should be able to get their food pretty soon, since they had already started on Gwestion's, and the other two ought to be simple enough. As soon as she had left the table, he fidgeted a little awkwardly, glancing over at Gwestion. Seeing one of the staff near one of the tables, he hopped up and went to put in their food order, before his brother had a chance to return to the previous matter, now that they were alone for a moment.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Éowyn
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@Rillewen
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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

Gwestion's explanation about what exactly bothered him, was something to think about the brief period of time she spent alone, away from the table. Gwestion had explicitly asked Gladhron not to tell anyone about it. Even if the request seemed a bit paranoid to her, she could definitely understand him not appreciating that Gladhron had told her. A man was as good as his word, was he not?

At least Gladhron had apologized. Not just once, but twice. Once along with a defense. And then when he saw the defense wasn't working, a second time - without any words to try and make it seem less of a problem. That was the best apology, as far as Celumë was concerned. While Gladhron hadn't seemed to see the problem with his first apology, he seemed to have realized his mistake the second time around at least.

Trying to pick herself up, she told herself this was the first time Gwestion had said her assistance would be 'welcome' in such an unreserved way. At least, in her perception it was the first time. Until this point, he'd seemed to begrudgingly accept her help. Maybe he was warming up to her a little. Neither of the brothers seemed to think she was a complete stranger anymore. That was reassuring.

When she walked back into the common room, she made a brief stop by the bar and signalled the barkeeper. He moved over to her and she put on her best half-pout. "Is it true you cannot serve any hot chocolate here?" she asked, hopefullness mixed in with a sad kind of preparedness for disappointment. The barkeeper gave her a sympathetic look. "Uh... sorry, miss. Like I told that other guy - is he your friend, perhaps? - we just don't have any chocolate at hand, I'm afraid..." Seeing her stricken expression, he quickly added: "If we had any, I would have certainly asked the kitchen to make some for you..."

Celumë nodded sadly. "Aww. Well..." She gave him a weak smile. "I appreciate the thought, anyway. You're sweet." After a last, thankful look, she turned around and headed back for the table. Once she reclaimed her seat, she shot a smile at Gladhron. "There might be a small chance for hot chocolate, yet," she announced mysteriously, before glancing at Gwestion. "If that small chance turns true - would you want some as well?" Some ideas were twirling around in her mind, and even though there were no guarantees at all, she figured it might be best to know how many servings she might have to ask for... if she could end up making it happen.
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Gwestion & Gladhron
Common room - Sitting with Celume


Once the food orders had all been placed, Gladhron had tried to find some reason to delay returning to the table yet. But, he had no real excuses left to keep him away, and he ended up returning to his seat before Celume had returned. The brothers sat in silence for a moment before Gladhron broke the ice. "You could have waited to bring that up, until it was just the two of us," He mumbled.

Gwestion held back a sigh, and turned his gaze away from where he had been watching Celume walk over to talk to the bartender. "I get tired of this sort of thing, you know." He said quietly. "You never seem to realize when you've done or said something that upsets me. And I would not have mentioned it at all, except that I felt it was causing a misunderstanding with Celume." He frowned. "I don't like to speak poorly of you, Gladhron, especially not in front of others. In fact, I try to do the opposite if I can. But what am I supposed to do? I tried to keep from mentioning it, and it became evident that she thought I was upset with her for some reason." He folded his arms on the table and sighed. "I'm sorry if it upsets you that I spoke up about it, but it didn't seem fair to let her believe I was upset at her, just to protect you from looking bad." He leaned forward slightly. "At least I didn't bring up how you left the room in such a mess.. which I had to clean up. As usual.."

"What mess?" Gladhron blinked at him, baffled. "I didn't make any mess."

Gwestion raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really, how could I? I just got a few things out of my pack."

"And left everything else strewn about the room..."

"Oh, you're overexaggerating now," Gladhron rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Gwestion. It was only a couple of pieces of clothing. I don't even own all that much, you know that."

Shaking his head, Gwestion decided to drop it, as he saw Celume coming toward them again. He sat back again in his seat as she rejoined them.

Hearing her news, Gladhron smiled a bit. "Oh? How did you manage that?" He wondered, intrigued, and also eager for a change of subject. "They told me they didn't have any chocolate."

Gwestion was a little caught by surprise as she asked him if he would like some of it. "If there would be enough for all of us, then yes, certainly," He nodded. "But, it sounds as if it isn't even a sure thing, yet. So, we had best not get our hopes up." He added with a small shrug.

With a mischievous smirk, Gladhron nudged him. "We should all start banging on the table and chant, 'we want chocolate'." He suggested, and grinned. "That might get a few results.."

"It might also gets us kicked out," Gwestion pointed out, rolling his eyes. Despite a little amusement which he kept well hidden, he shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Gladhron." He added, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, because he absolutely would not put it past his brother to do something like that, thinking it would be funny.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

Éowyn
Éowyn
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Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:34 pm
@Rillewen
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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"I haven't managed anything," she said casually in response to Gladhron's question. "Yet. I've only... laid some groundwork."

Gwestion's reply resulted in an enigmatic smile. "Not a sure thing by any means," she confirmed. "But it is good to know that you would like some, should it all work out."

She raised an eyebrow at Gladhron's next suggestion, partly amused and partly hoping he was not actually serious. Gwestion's response made it seem like he didn't deem the latter unthinkable, so Celume tapped Gladhron's arm with her index finger to make sure she had his attention before speaking.
"Making demands of the staff in such a way would not further our objective, even if they thought it was cute." Though she didn't see why they would think such a thing, really. "Because they cannot make anything they do not have the key ingredient for," she informed him, though her tone was more conspiratorial than informative. "However, that does not mean all hope is lost."

Her smile grew surprisingly playful. "But first... I need some food in my stomach before making attempts to turn hope to reality," she stated, teasing them by not divulging anything she might already have in mind to obtain the hot chocolate. Celume leaned back in her chair and folded her hands on the table in front of her. Her gaze flicked between the two men before settling on Gladhron. "While we wait for our orders... How about that story?"
Arnyn ~ Honor & Valor
Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

Steward of Gondor
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@Arnyn

Gwestion & Gladhron
Common room - Sitting with Celume

Gladhron rolled his eyes with a laughing sort of scoff. "I was just joking," He assured them both, amused that they actually thought he might do that. "Besides, it wouldn't be as effective without all of us joining in." He grinned teasingly. "You both actually thought I was serious?" He laughed as he shook his head.

"With you, one can never really be too sure." Gwestion replied with a little shrug, not quite as amused as his brother seemed to be about the whole thing. "I doubt they'd think it 'cute', either," He added. "more likely 'annoying'." He was glad to hear that Gladhron was only joking, at least.

Gladhron rolled his eyes, again, and then turned his attention toward Celume before he decided to inform Gwestion he was making him want to actually do it after all. He was about to reply to what she said about hope not being lost, when she surprised him by asking for the story he had promised. His grin widened. "Ah, yes, good idea!"

"What story?" Gwestion wondered, tilting his head curiously as he glanced at his brother. Half wondering what she was talking about, while also wondering what story he had promised her.. and also what else he might have told her during the day that they spent walking together.

Gladhron glanced at him, then back at her. "Good question," He realized, since they had not agreed on any particular story. "What sort of story would you like, Celume?" He asked, giving her the chance to pick what she'd like to hear told about.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

Éowyn
Éowyn
Points: 4 122 
Posts: 2197
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:34 pm
@Rillewen
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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

"I just figured your brother knows you best," she said with a half grin. "If he thinks you might..."

Thankfully, though, her request for a story seemed to properly distract Gladhron from whatever mischief he might be considering. Her own grin widened upon seeing his. Upon Gwestion's question, Celumë's eyes flicked to him, only returning to the older brother when he asked her what kind of story she'd like to hear.

She wasn't immediately sure what he meant, and frowned lightly in momentary puzzlement. "The good kind?" One finger drew a small circle on the table. "I am not sure what you mean. But I did very much enjoy your telling of the Siege of Angband earlier. Do you have any other historical or maybe mythical stories in your arsenal?" she asked with a curious expression. "That might be nice."

Celume smiled at Gwestion. "What do you think?" He might appreciate her not asking for some personal anecdote, she figured.
Arnyn ~ Honor & Valor
Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

Steward of Gondor
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@Arnyn

Gwestion & Gladhron
Common room - Sitting with Celume

"I just figured your brother knows you best... If he thinks you might..."

Gwestion leaned a bit closer to her across the table. "He would," He mouthed, while Gladhron was looking at Celume, awaiting her answer about the story.

"A good one?" Gladhron repeated, as if surprised. "Are you sure you don't want a boring one?" With a slightly amused grin, he sat back, unaware of what Gwestion had done, just out of his peripheral. "Let's see," He tried to think for a moment, glancing over at his brother.

Gwestion merely gave him a sort of 'we're waiting' type look.

"Got it," Gladhron declared, smiling in satisfaction as a thought came to him. "Have you heard the tale of how the last great dragon of middle earth came to his end, at the hands of the men of Esgaroth?" He asked, recalling the area where he had gone during his first trip with his father, and that his younger siblings had always enjoyed hearing this story which he'd first heard at some point during that adventure.
Last edited by Rillewen on Sun Mar 03, 2024 4:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

Éowyn
Éowyn
Points: 4 122 
Posts: 2197
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:34 pm
@Rillewen
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Celumë
Common Room
Third Age - before the War of the Ring

She rolled her eyes when Gladhron made fun of her answer and asked if she didn't want a boring story instead. "I'm sure," she still replied, however, with a little smirk at Gwestion in the meanwhile. So. The younger brother did have a sense of humour.

It did not take long at all for Gladhron to make up his mind, and Celume raised an interested eyebrow at him. "Not in a very long time," she admitted, with a pleased smile. "I would love to hear your rendition. And who does not like a good story about a dragon?"

A waiter came by their table, postponing what would have otherwise surely been the start of Gladhron's story. Celumë looked up at him, but he seemed to be focusing on the two brothers a bit more. "While we are preparing your orders, would you care for another drink?"
Celumë blinked and cleared her throat. "Water for me, thanks." The waiter gave a small nod as he looked at her, acknowledging her order. "Water for the lady. And for the gents?"
Arnyn ~ Honor & Valor
Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

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