The Bree Market

[Fuin Elda]

The Great East Road passed through the three Gates of Bree, an old city made of men, and hobbits with a great open square filled with many shops, both made of stone and wood as well as beautifully draped fabric stalls.
The air is filled with the smell of animals and food and fragrant spices brought from the all around the town. Music fills the air from bards and hawkers are selling their wares.

The vendors of the Market of Bree are free to be used as you like. If you wish to create your own more permanent vendor please simply tag myself or a current admin to update the opening post either here or in the Imladris OOC with a name and a basic description of your Bree market stall.

Permanent Vendors:

Tingdain Market Stall
Run By Fuin/Any active member of the Tingdain
A Monthly visitor to the Market of Bree, where elven metal and wood work can be purchased for practical everyday uses or for weapons.

Tunnelly's General Goods
Run by Walto Tunnelly and family (@Rillewen )
Get your general needs taken care of right proper by this fantastic hobbit family

Wood's Warm Woolies
Run by the Woods Family (@Rillewen )
Yarn, woven fabrics made from the wool, knitting needles and other supplies, as well as some premade knitted/crocheted items.

The Ransack
Run by Old Barnaby ( @Metatron Omega/Frost )
Old Barnaby used to be a cabin boy, so he says, and sells all manner of nautical and sailing related implements, from books on knots with questionable bindings to sextants, hourglasses, and star charts; oars, ships, and sails not included

The Wandery
Run by Colbert and Kiaran Whistledown ( @Metatron Omega/Frost)
Whether you're hiking through underbrush, or trekking through swamps, the Wandery will have everything you could need, boots, walking sticks, ponchos, and more

The Most Important Meal
Run by Tiago Muleapple ( @Metatron Omega/Frost )
People often get their mornings started quickly, too quickly, and often skip out on the most important morning meal of all, Tiago and his breakfast wagon are here to put an end to such travesties, rolling around the town of Bree in a large, colorful wagon that acts as a mobile kitchen for those on the go and in need of a good start

For trade and commerce:
10 copper = 1 silver
10 silver = 1 gold
10 gold = 1 platinum

Bartering is highly encouraged.


Rules:
All Plaza rules apply. RP CoC can be read HERE
Please mark your posts as private if you don't want other people to participate.
Please take longer OOCs/planning to Imladris OOC short OOCs are welcome here marked.
Please refrain from posting large images/gifs directly if you need them to demonstrate your item please link them.
This thread it TIME FLUID.
Please have fun, and feel free to be creative inside the above rules.

[The Good Hunter]

The Ransack, Open for Business

“Where is it?” the old man asked himself, rummaging through various and sundry bits strewn across the floor. The particular item he was looking for was, well it wasn’t anywhere he could find. His shoulders were covered in dust, there was a bit of cobweb in his hair (thankfully there was no spider attached to said cobweb), and he was pretty sure he’d just pulled some muscle in his back. This was not how opening day was supposed to go for Old Barnaby. There was a massive, heavy anchor by the door and on it was hung a bit of old netting, too small and too holey to be used as fishing nets anymore (not that there was much need for nets of that size to fish in the small streams around Bree anyway) but it would make a great hammock.

Actually, now that Barnaby really thought about it, that hammock would likely prove to be the most uncomfortable thing in the entire world. No. Not a hammock. Where was that old hammock? What was he even looking for again? Barnaby sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d given himself a good brushing for the big day, but all the pre-opening stress seemed to make his hair stand on end. He pulled the cobweb out of his air and shook his fingers frantically as the sticky substance clung to his hand. “Ah! Dagnambit! Geroff me!” he yowled.

Today was not going the way he’d planned. The sun wasn’t out yet and the storm that started last night was still trickling off. The streets of Bree glistened the light from bakers and inns bounced off the puddles. It was quiet outside, and calm. Inside the Ransack it was not quiet, nor was it calm. Barnaby still couldn’t remember what it had been that he was looking for. He picked up a spy glass proudly displayed on the top of a shelf, inspected the outside of it, nodded, then looked through the glass. His shoulders slumped. It as cracked. He wheeled back as if to throw it against the wall then stopped himself. Today was already going askew, why compound it by making more of a mess. He would still be able to sell it. Easily too, if he told the right story. There could be a dozen reason the spyglass was cracked. Maybe it had seen battle against a horde of corsairs or maybe it was the captain’s last defense against an orc attacker. No need to dwell on the fact that it had probably cracked in the transport wagon. It still looked good, Dúnedain made. Heck, it might sell even better now that it’s cracked. It has authenticity. He grinned and gingerly placed it back on the shelf. Then rearranged things to give the spy glass more room. “What’s a good Dúnedain captain name? hmmm, gotta think of a good one.”

What had he been looking for? It was starting to bother him that he suddenly couldn’t remember. He wasn’t that old, not yet. It wasn’t some cursed item either. No, he made sure he was done with those. The sextant he’d found on that wreck wasn’t cursed. It didn’t matter what that old hag had told him when he sold it at Lond Daer. And even if it was, it was some other poor sap’s problem, not his. He looked up at something passing front of the door to his shop. Wait. No. There was nothing there. Just the wind and the rain. How strange. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Perhaps he should get something to drink.

But a customer might come along at any moment! He could rest later.

What was it that he’d lost again? Dangit!

[The Good Hunter]

The Wandery, Open for Business

Going into business with your family, they say, is like flipping a coin. Either you work splendidly together, balancing each other’s strengths and compensating for each other’s weaknesses, or you work horribly together, nothing works and you end up wanting to kill your own brother. There was a third option that no one actually talks about: what if the coin lands on its edge, not on heads or tails? That was where Kiaran found himself. It was inevitable that he would work alongside his older brother Colbert, the entire family had known this since they were young, but that did not mean that he was going to enjoy it.

He’d spent that last year trying to find alternatives, some way of staying out of the family business, but each plan fell through. He tried to become a ranger but could never find a ranger willing to sponsor him and get him into the ranks, he tried to become a guide but since he wasn’t a ranger people didn’t trust him not to get them all lost. Everyone in Bree assumed he would take part in the family business and so no one would hire him, not the blacksmith, baker, candlemaker, or even the street cleaners.

None of this is to say he didn’t like his family. He loved his family, loved his older brother Colbert. But he also loved them at a distance. He wanted to be able to put space between himself and them. While he could differentiate between his family and his own life, not many others could. Making his own mark would have gone a long way in establishing his own personhood and individuality. Alas, none of that was going to happen right now. He was going to sell walking sticks, tents, knives, and boots to travelers going east into Eriador or west toward Lindon.

Colbert reassured him that it was only temporary. His older brother knew that he chaffed at being stuck behind a counter watching people count out coins. But that did not change circumstances. That he knew and understood only made things worse. Kiaran wished his brother had no idea, wished Colbert thought he enjoyed inventory and bartering and helping people pick out the right size boot.

“It’s a Whistledown tradition,” Colbert brother said, breaking his brother’s concentration, “that on the first day, you pick out a new walking stick. I know, I know it’s not much. Believe me, I know. But, I will make this promise, little brother. If we do well enough, we can take a few days off at the end of the month and go off camping, like we used to. Remember that?”

“I remember getting soaked because we didn’t put our tent up properly,” Kiaran said dreamily.

His older brother narrowed his eyes but grinned. “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

In truth, as both brothers knew, the tent had been put up perfectly. If it had not been for a random, roaming bear searching for a dry place to sleep, they would have slept the night away. The only reason anyone thought otherwise was because Kiaran panicked and told their mother they had not properly put the tent up. If she knew the truth, neither brother would ever see the outside of their home ever again.

“I’ll take that one, I suppose,” he pointed to one made of holly, with a heavy curve toward the top.

“Excellent choice, Kiaran,” Colbert said and tossed the walking stick to him. “Ready to start?”

“No, but let’s do it anyway.”

[The Good Hunter]

The Most Important Meal, Open for Business

Tiago had been working for hours. He wasn’t really even sure what time it was now. The world outside was still dark and gloomy, with shadows stretching and yawning under the eaves of the inns. Rain was pattering on the wagon’s roof. The inside was warm and smelled of three different kinds of bread. He loved that smell. It was partially that smell that made Tiago want to do this in the first place.

All his friends in the Shire told him this idea was a madcap, that it would fail, and he’d end up living with his mum again. They were right that it was madcap. Who in their right mind would try and pack up a kitchen and put it into a wagon? And it was not just any kitchen. No, a Shire kitchen was bigger than many Breelander houses. How would a wagon be able to fit it all, or even half, and still be called a kitchen? Well. The way Tiago saw it, the bigger the wagon, the bigger the kitchen. So, he built himself a wagon, two wagons really with one being more of a larder and storehouse than kitchen, that dwarfed anything anyone had ever seen in the Shire. It needed eight wheels twice as tall as a hobbit and a team of ponies to move. Indeed, the amount of money Tiago put into this venture could send him to the poorhouse. He managed to fit two ovens inside with a large griddle over the top of them, a small fireplace and chimney that doubled as a place to warm soup and tea kettles (four of them at any given moment). The opposite side of the wagon could be opened up and a small table from the doorframe. It was big enough for the Big Folk to speak to him and not stoop over, and it was small enough that Hobbit folk didn’t have to shout over the edge to be heard.

He took a deep breath, held it on a ten count, and exhaled slowly. His insides were filled with nerves and excitement. There were so many possibilities for today. He was going to have a great day. He was going to prove all his friends that he was more than capable and that even the maddest of mad ideas can come true if you believe in yourself. The only person in all the Shire that believed in him, aside from his mother of course, was Lavinia Dewfoot, the best chef in all of Middle-earth. If she believed in him, then not even the Thain or the Master of Buckland could say otherwise.

Tiago loved breakfast. What hobbit didn’t? He loved it so much that he decided this new food wagon idea of his would focus on breakfast, and probably second breakfast, and elevenses most days. Really, Tiago felt his food wagon would be ideal for any of the morning meals. Tea, eggs, black pudding, crapes, and fruit juices; who could say no to that? And all of it was reasonably priced and portioned. Big Folk portions were about a third smaller than a hobbit’s portion, owing that hobbits could eat any Big Folk under the table and then ask for seconds, but he was willing to change sizes the more he learned how Big Folk ate.

He poured a cup of tea for himself, a rich breakfast tea to really get his blood flowing and sharpen his senses. He’d put the word out weeks ago, a whole advertising campaign. It was only a matter of time before people woke up ands started flocking toward him.

The special of the day, meaning the only thing he was planning on making, was a big fry up. Eggs, bacon, black pudding, freshwater cockles, soda bread, baked beans, and mushrooms with tea or coffee. He’d bought a new press from a supplier in the Westfarthing that made coffee in a much more efficient way and was eager to try it out on customers.

He finished his tea and dropped it into a bucket filled with soapy water. Well, he placed it gingerly into the bucket, he was not going to cast a pall on his first day by breaking a dish.

To pass the time, Tiago started frying up some eggs and mixed some pancake batter. Depending on how things went, he would have to get himself an assistant or two, local lads or lasses who could contribute with ideas about the best stops to stop and serve while they chopped veggies and washed dishes.

He was going to have to talk to his supplier too, Tiago had a sinking feeling he was going to run out of eggs before the day was over.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Brooke Willows
(Aka Bronaeth, to a select few)

Tingdain Stall

"Where are you going?" Brooke wondered, directing the question toward the reddish-brown dog as he took off in what appeared to be a randomly chosen direction. He paused in his tracks, tilting his head at her as if wondering why she wasn't following. Glancing ahead, she saw that the dog had been aiming for a strange sort of wagon, double the size of an ordinary one. Some new business that was opening. She could smell food cooking; apparently, they intended to serve food, so she figured that was what had drawn Chewy's attention. Shaking her head, she corrected her new friend, "We're not going there." If he could understand, his hopes might have just been crushed. She felt bad about that, and added, "We haven't got any money, so just forget it." Shrugging slightly, she continued on toward her destination, hoping Fuin would be the one there.

Giving up on that idea, as instructed, Chewy excitedly ran in a circle around her, then came up alongside her and walked with her, tail wagging happily. Brooke smiled faintly, watching him. He looked so much healthier now that he'd had a bath, his fur groomed, and she'd managed to find him a bit of meat each day. Even though it wasn't much, it was better than nothing, and he also hunted small game like squirrels off in the woods. She knew this because he brought her some, now and then. Hopefully, he had learned to stay clear of the tanner's place. She glanced up as the pair approached the Tingdain stall, trying to tell from a distance whether Fuin was there, or someone unknown. She was hoping for the former, because if it was the latter she would just return home, and wait to try and catch her mother's friend there another time.

[Fuin Elda]

@Rillewen
Tingdain Stall

It had been some time since she had seen Bronaeth, she smiled when she saw the young woman coming towards her stall from a distance, she had to do a double take for she had a dog running about her something she'd not seen before, it looke like a fairly decent sized beast and well tended. At least well tended for what she knew the young womans means as she went back to her work, hammering a very large hook and eye latch for a shepherd that wanted one made so that he could keep his pen closed easier. Fuin had tried to tell him that a wire loop would do the trick as well but he would not hear of it and she had gotten to work.

She set it hissing into the water bath with a bellowing of steam and a hiss that sent more than one stray cat that was eyeballing the new restaurants that had opened up to see if there might be food to be had skittering away in fear at the loud sound of it.

"There you go." She said and gladly took the small damaged lamb skin that she'd been offered in trade. It wasn't good enough for the tanners but it was good enough that she'd be able to polish jewelry with it later. She tood and looked to see where Bronaeth was she had to be getting closer by now and she offered a wave to the girl as she drew nearer figuring she was trying to see if Fuin was there and she wondered if she had anything for the elf to fix or if she was just coming for a visit to show the elleth her new pet.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Brooke Willows
(Aka Bronaeth, to a select few)

Tingdain Stall

As she drew nearer, Brooke was relieved to see the elf she knew was at the stall. With a small smile, she returned the wave. About that time, a couple of cats darted away from the area. Before she had a chance to realize what would happen, Chewy had taken off after them, excitedly barking. "Chewy! No.." She made an attempt at catching him, but was too late. Biting her lip, Brooke watched the animals race around the market a couple of times before the cat found shelter in a tree, arching its back and hissing down at Chewy, who just barked up at it, wagging his tail and looking like it was all just a big game.

"Chewy, leave the cat alone," Brooke called after him, then sighed, a little unsure what else to do. She decided that it was probably alright since the cat was out of his reach now. Hugging her arms around herself, she continued toward where Fuin was working at the forge. After seeing Brooke walk past without joining the game, Chewy ran to catch up and looked up at her with a big doggy smile, waiting for Brooke to acknowledge how well he'd managed to tree the cat, but she didn't seem impressed after all.

As the pair approached, Chewy trotted ahead of Brooke and began sniffing at Fuin's shoes and legs, and any hands or such that might come within reach of his nose. "Hello, Fuin," Brooke greeted the elven smith, with a small smile as she caught up. "Um, sorry... I hope you don't mind him. He likes to sniff everything." She explained with a shrug, slightly puzzled about this. "Leave her alone," She whispered to the dog, trying to nudge him away from the elf.

[Dumenelion]

Dumenelion sniffed the air, it wasn't the I'm coming down with a cold kinda sniff, it was the kind of sniff that moved your eyes from side to side...
It wafted, the smell teased your nostrils it was followed by a smacking of lips and it screamed ROLLS on SAUSAGE...
Aha, I spy a wagon.
"Excuse me, Tiagon, I believe.
How are you?
I am absolutely ravenous, I've been bricked up behind a wall for over 20 years and I'm sure that a roll on square sausage will set me right and berid me of this brain fog."
The smell of coffee made her close her eyes and thank Eru that she had arrived in time for breakfast...

[The Good Hunter]

The Most Important Meal

It didn’t take long (or perhaps it did, when it rains time is wibbly-wobbly) for a customer to arrive at Tiago’s food wagon. He smiled inwardly. It was a good idea after all and he was going to be insufferable to the naysayers. He’d thought he’d had a customer earlier, a girl and her dog, but apparently despite the protestations and pleadings of the canine, the girl refused to be invited in by delicious smells and the promise of warmth. To each their own, some people didn’t like breakfast, or enjoy food of the best quality, who was Tiago to try and persuade them otherwise? And besides, now he had a customer, a real customer. An actual customer come to seek customization of his customizable wares. Tiago could get accustomed to this.

He peered out into the rain, it was still a bit dark outside so he couldn’t quite make out the shape of the person seeking sustenance. He was quite certain the person was of the male variety, but even that was not certain. Tiago was acclimated to all types though, as a good hobbit should be. He smiled brightly and leaned just enough out of the window of his wagon that his head began go feel the pattering of raindrops.

“Tiago, my good fellow, Tiago Muleapple, at your service. It sounds as though you’ve had quite a hellish go of it lately. Twenty years behind a wall? You didn’t follow anyone thinking they were showing you some rare wine I hope?” he chuckled.

“Well, regardless of all that, I have just what you seek. Rolls on sausage happens to be one of my favorites, well, no I shouldn’t say that. They’re all my favorites, my recipes are like children you know, you can’t say you love one more than the other without accidently creating a brooding villain. Some coffee to wash it down with perhaps?”

[Dumenelion]

Dume was glad that the rim of her pointy hat was wide enough to stop the raindrops from running down her unpointy nose...
" Cheers abound, Muleapple, my good man, you have no idea how Hank Marvin I am. A few rolls on sausage with brown sauce will remedy that, coffee is perfect, the smell of a perfect coffee wafted me on my tiptoes and here I am, at the source."
Dume spotted the price list and the bartering part, as she had absolutely no Isencoins, gold, pretty jewels or even copper pennies she wondered what the chef would want in barter, she'd hold off asking until she had her food in hand and coffee on her head...

[Fuin Elda]

@Rillewen
Tingdain Stall

She watched as Bronaeth crossed the market to her like an arrow shot true, and the dog at her heels, at least until it decided it knew where she was going and made for Fuin sniffing and bumping at her causing the old elf to laugh at the persistant nosing as Bronaeth made her way to her.

"It's good to see you again!" She said with a grin giving the dog a ruffling about his ears and pushing him away when Bronaeth tried to nudge him away, she had to agree a portable forge was not always the safest place for a pet, especially one with such a long coat as this sweet beast. "And no the pup is fine, I worry more that he'll poke his nose into the forge or use that feather duster of a tail as a torch if he's not careful so him bumping and sniffing me is quite alright by me." She stepped further away from the forge that she'd been working at not long ago, so as to help keep the dog safe.

"How are you doing today?" She didn't appear to be carrying any large assortment of items today to mend which was a good thing she'd been asked to shod and shoe a few of the guests horses at the Prancing Pony while their riders were resting in comfort for a day or two so she would be going to do that soon enough.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Brooke Willows
(Aka Bronaeth, to a select few)

Tingdain Stall

Brooke was relieved to hear that Chewy wasn't bothering Fuin, at least. But she was still concerned that he would be a nuisance, or get too close to her forge. She reached out and pushed down on his hind quarters. "Sit, please?" She requested of the dog, frowning as he resisted. But he at last sat, partially at least, though he looked ready to jump up again at a second's notice.

"Oh, I'm alright." Brooke replied to Fuin with a small smile. "How are you?" She inquired in return, then motioned to the dog. "This is Chewy.. Or, at least, that's what I'm calling him." She shrugged slightly. "He's decided that he belongs to me, I guess." She glanced down at the dog with a slightly puzzled expression, before looking back up at the elf. "I tried to tell him I can't keep him, but he's persistent." She hesitated. "I'm not really sure what to do with a dog, but he is cute, and I've come to like him a lot." She admitted. "So I guess I don't mind letting him stick around." She rubbed his ears lightly, and recalled that she had come here for a purpose. "Anyway..." She paused, hesitating slightly. "Um, are you busy? I wondered if you might be able to tell me something." She hesitated. "I was curious... how much do you think it would cost to fix a broken knife?"

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Gwestion
Approaching Tingdain Stall, waiting his turn

It was still very early as he set out from the Prancing Pony, wearing his bow and quiver on his back, and a sheathed sword at his side. He carried a pack in his hand, which contained a few other items that needed repairing. Along the way, he ignored a few stalls offering breakfast; he'd eaten a light one already, before leaving the Pony. Having been given directions to the blacksmithing stall, Gwestion made his way toward it.

As he neared, he saw that there was already a customer there, speaking with the blacksmith. Which, he then noticed with some surprise, appeared to be an elf. He'd had very few encounters with any of those fair folk, and thus was quite surprised to find one here in Bree. He paused a reasonable distance away.. close enough to make it evident that he had business with the blacksmith, but not so near as to seem impatient or like he was crowding the young lady who was already speaking with the elf smith. And then.. to his surprise, the big, red-brown dog wandered away from the girl, and trotted over to sniff at his boots very intently. He suspected that the dog belonged to the girl who was busy speaking with the elven smith, but she didn't notice right away that her dog had left her side.

"Hmm.. what do you smell on my boots?" Gwestion murmured softly, addressing the dog, even though he knew it wouldn't understand. "Probably.. mud, from distant lands. And horses.. perhaps a few other curious things, I suppose." He smiled faintly and watched the dog as he looked up at Gwestion, then wagged his tail slightly. "Oh, have you decided I'm alright?" He asked, keeping his voice low so not to disturb the other two from their conversation. As the dog's attention was then drawn to the pack in his hand, Gwestion noticed he sniffed at it rather suspiciously. He tilted his head while he watched, wondering if the dog could smell lingering traces of orc blood on the armor pieces inside, and whether that made the dog suspicious of the pack, or if he was merely curious about a foreign smell.

[Fuin Elda]

@Rillewen
Tingdain Stall

"Chewy?" She says raising an eyebrow and looking between her and the puzzled looking dog for a moment. "I have heard stranger names." The elf forge master kept working for a bit nodding as Bronaeth spoke about becoming fond of the dog. She was busy working on the blanks for the horses, most were smaller horses and were tied up near at a post near her so she could size the shoes and shod them as she could.

"Repairing a knife?" Fuin looked up "I suppose it would depend on what and how it needs repairing? is it something where it needs a complete reforging or something that could be done swifter than that?" She asked curious about this knife and the condition it was in as that is what would affect how much it cost to repair. She caught sight of Gwestion, and gave a nod she knew he was there though she was still busy with Bronaeth she'd be with him as soon as she could. Sharp elf eyes seeing his bow, sword and how he was clad and having some idea of what the man might need a smirk on her face as she saw Chewy investigating him as well though he was mostly behaving himself from what Fuin could tell.

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

|
Brooke | Chewy | Gwestion
Tingdain Stall

She smiled faintly at the puzzled look on the elf's face upon hearing what Brooke had decided to call the dog. "He likes to chew things." She explained with a shrug. "I've decided it's best to keep all leather things where he can't get at them..." As she spoke, she glanced around as she realized he was no longer next to her, and heard quiet words spoken nearby. She saw the young man that was speaking to her dog and worried he was being a pest. "Oh, I'm sorry." She apologized hastily. "Chewy, come here, leave him alone.. I'm sorry sir, he gets curious, but he's friendly, I promise."

"It's fine, miss. He isn't bothering me." He assured her quietly, in an accent that seemed like a blend of elvish, rohirric, and westron all mixed together. . "No need to apologize, I can tell he is friendly." He was inwardly amused at how the dog seemed to be so similar to his brother in that way; overly friendly.

Chewy looked at Brooke questioningly, as if wondering why she assumed she needed to apologize for him, before turning back to look at the guy, wagging his tail in hopes of maybe getting a treat.

"If you're sure.." She hesitated, feeling responsible for the dog's actions even though she wasn't sure how to control him.

"I'm sure." He gave a small nod to redirect her attention to the smith again. "Please, continue. I can wait." Though of course, the longer she remained distracted by him, the longer he would have to wait.

Nodding slightly as she too realized this, Brooke turned back to refocus on Fuin's return question. "Sorry," She said to her, for getting distracted and making her wait. She dug into her bag before tentatively pulling out the knife in question. It was in a sheath. She hesitated, slightly unsure about how to proceed. "I'm.. not really sure how hard it would be to fix, but I can show you?" The master elf smith would certainly have a better idea of how difficult it would be to fix than Brooke would, since she'd never done anything like smithing before.

After glancing for a spot to put it, she used a work table and, slightly awkwardly, drew out the knife. The very tip of the blade was chipped off. She tipped the sheath over and shook it lightly so that the broken-off piece fell out onto the table as well. After a brief hesitated she switched to Sindarin to mention the next bit. "My mother said it belonged to her father.. my grandfather. I really would like to have it fixed, but I don't know if I'll have enough money. How hard is it going to be to fix?" She looked at Fuin with a mix of hope and concern.

[Fuin Elda]

@Rillewen
Tingdain Stall

Fuin took the knife looking at it as Brook worked on getting the tip out of the sheath. She looked at it closely it wasn't a terribly large amount of it that was broken off and to reforge the tip onto the knife would probably burn up more of the metal than just altering the shape of the knife a bit.

"I think it would be wiser Brook if we did not attempt to reattach the tip. it is... not a lot of metal and reheating the metal will likely burn off more of the metal than what was lost with the tip. In fact the wisest move to keep it as sharp without having to completely rework the blade would be to simply sharpen it down with a grind stone and reshape the tip so the whole blade is a small amount shorter but it has a new tip. it will hold it's edge better that way as well than having to rework it entirely." Fuin said gently looking at the tiny tip that was missing before speaking in sindarin as well "I think your grandfather likely would have done similar to what I am suggesting with the blade as it's less likely to change it drastically than a full rework." Fuin looked at the tip closely looking to see what had caused the break, likely a tiny imperfection in the work that had weakened over time and with a fine point it would eventually give way. "And that's something I could do today for a copper."

[Rillewen]

@Fuin Elda

Brooke | Chewy
Tingdain Stall

Upon hearing that the only reasonable way to go about it was to simply reshape the blade, Brooke was initially disappointed. She had ruined the knife, and it would never be the same again. While she kept the disappointment from showing in her expression, she nodded slowly as Fuin explained about how the small piece would only burn away to nothing, and that it wasn't really worth the time and effort to try and attach it back on, and so on.

But, hearing that she thought her grandfather would likely have done the same, she smiled a tiny bit. But when she heard that it would only be a copper, she was delightfully surprised. That was all? Her smile brightened just a bit. "Really?" She replied, still in Sindarin. She wanted to be able to practice using the language so she would not forget, and Fuin was the only one around that she knew of who she could practice it with.

"I'll need to go and get one," She added, but figured the smith would not mind waiting while she went home and back. "I didn't bring any.. I thought it'd be more than I have, so I just figured I'd find out how much I was going to need to save up." She explained. "I didn't think you'd be able to fix it today, either!" She added happily.

"I was so upset that it got broken.. I know I shouldn't have tried to use it for digging, but.. it was an emergency, and I didn't have anything else." She sighed softly, and then realized she might ought to explain a bit better. "I mean.. sorry, that probably didn't make much sense. See, there was this guy, and he saved me from a mean, scary guy who was threatening me, and then the nice guy got stuck in this hole in the ground, and I was trying to dig him out before the scary guy came back," She explained. "And, of course the ground was frozen, and it was so hard... I should've known better." She looked down with a little sigh, then glanced back up. "Would you mind if I go to get the copper and come back?"

---

Gwestion

While Gwestion was not really trying to eavesdrop, and would not intentionally unless it was a ranger matter.. he couldn't hardly help but hear what the girl was saying. He wasn't sure whether she had switched to Sindarin as a means to keep the conversation private, but.. well, he happened to speak that language quite well, and so he understood all that she said.

The fact that the dagger would be better off just grinded down a bit left him somewhat concerned about his own repair needs. Would she say it was best to simply scrap the sword, and buy a new one? The ranger was trying to prepare for the possibility that he would have to buy a whole new sword, yet he really hated to have to part with this one. It had been his from an early age, and had been bought for him by his father. That meant a lot to him. Not only that, but the sword had served him well for all these years, and it seemed a shame for such a well-made weapon to be destroyed and cast aside.

He was drawn from his own thoughts and concerns as he heard the brief tale of how the girl's grandfather's knife had come to be broken. He looked toward her and the elf at this point, intrigued. Up until then, he had been standing politely off to the side, waiting, while looking around and observing other folks walking around in the market. A single copper would fix her dagger, and she didn't even have one with her? Gwestion hesitated briefly, considering the amount of money that he knew he had.

He still had no idea how much his own repairs would cost, but it seemed absurd for the girl to have to go all the way back to wherever she lived just for one copper, when he had some in his pocket right now. He pulled one out and held it out to the girl. "Here," he said softly, hoping that neither would be upset to find he had overheard the conversation. "Allow me, miss."


Turning in surprise, Brooke blinked at the coin held out to her, then at the stranger. "Oh.. thanks... um," She said slowly, a little unsure what else to say. She was quite sure she'd never had any strangers do that before, and didn't exactly know how to respond. "Thank you, sir." She realized belatedly that she'd already said thanks, but tried not to be too embarrassed as she accepted the coin, slightly awkward about it.

He gave a small nod. "It's no problem, really." he assured her, before stepping back again to resume waiting.

Taking another curious glance at the guy, Brooke managed a small smile before she turned to give the coin to Fuin. "Is it alright if I wait, or would it be too long before you finish with whatever other stuff is before mine?" She wondered timidly, unsure if she would be more of a bother than company, if she was there too long.

[Rillewen]

Private - solo

|
Brooke | Chewy | Gwestion
Later that same day
Late June

Brooke had loitered near the blacksmith stall for a while, but she didn't want to bother Fuin for too long, and had eventually ventured away from there and went toward the shop of assorted, used goods. Sometimes, they even had books for sale there, but there was never any guarantee. She always checked, and hoped that when she found a book there, she might have enough money to buy it. She'd been saving up for a while now, and she thought she might have enough if she could find a used book at a good price, but did the shop even have any?

Before she had a chance to check the shelves, Brooke's attention was drawn toward the sales counter when Chewy let out a quiet little bark, as if in recognition. Turning, she noticed the nice young man from earlier, talking with the shopkeeper. She waited nearby while he asked the shopkeeper a few questions, and she couldn't help but overhear. Not that he was speaking loudly, but... well, she happened to have good hearing.

She watched him while he was asking the shopkeeper if he'd ever met anyone named Harbarad, and whether he knew anything about the sale of the Forsaken Inn. The man who ran the shop was giving him wary looks, and evasive answers. Brooke frowned slightly, tilting her head. She hadn't seen this guy around before, but he seemed nice enough. He had given her the money to pay for the repairs on her knife. And he didn't have an ugly look about him, like some people did. He had a kind look to him, and it seemed to fit with his face. He seemed to be struggling not to lose patience as he thanked the shopkeeper for his time, yet he did not look angry or scowling. Simply disappointed.

He paused when he saw her, and gave a little nod of greeting before holding a hand down to Chewy, letting him sniff it. "How are you, miss? Did the smith get your blade fixed?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you again, for.. you know." She said shyly.

"No trouble." He assured her. "Do you mind if I ask you a question or two?" He added after a brief hesitation.

Brooke paused. "Well.. I don't mind, but um, well, I don't know anyone named Harbarad," She muttered softly. "And I don't know anything about the forsaken inn, either."

He gave a little nod. "I see." He glanced back toward the counter, then back to her. "You heard me asking about that?"

Brooke nodded slightly, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Well. Thank you, anyway." He gave Chewy another little pat. "Good day, miss."

Brooke watched him go with an apologetic look on her face, wishing she could help a little more. Then she stepped up to the counter and quietly asked whether the shopkeeper had gotten any books in, but the answer was no. No reason to stick around, then. She left the shop and glanced around, wrapping her arms around herself. She could think of no reasons to linger in town and longer, but she didn't really want to go home. Claire would probably be entertaining some guy, and Brooke didn't want to be anywhere around for that, even though she wasn't supposed to have left the house today at all.

Glancing up as she heard Chewy giving a little growl, her breath caught as she saw who was sauntering up the street, probably up to no good. Sully. One of the ugliest men around. If his facial features were not bad enough, (in Brooke's opinion) he had a certain darkness that seemed to linger about him, an ugliness that distorted the rest of his appearance somehow.

Her gaze flicked toward the quiet, nice guy who had left the shop a little ahead of her. He was heading toward the Tanner, but he was not yet too close as to draw him away. Brooke hesitated, unsure where the tanner might be going.. but she also didn't want to be caught out here alone in case the man noticed her, and decided to bother her. She hastened her steps and caught up to the young stranger. "Umm... sir?" She spoke timidly, getting his attention.

He turned, somewhat surprised to see her there. "Yes, miss?"

Now that she was here, Brooke didn't know quite what to say. She bit her lip, awkwardly holding her arm with the opposite hand. "Um, well I was going to ask, did you ask over there?" She indicated the general store run by the hobbit, Mr. Tunnelly.

Glancing at the shop, he gave a tilt of his head, then shook it slightly. "No, I must have overlooked that shop, actually. Thank you." He nodded to her and turned aside in that direction.

Brooke suddenly realized the flaw in her impulsive 'plan'. If the stranger went to Mr. Tunnelly's shop, that would mean that she was left out here on the street, alone. With Sully lurking around! She glanced briefly toward the tanner, then turned and followed the other man. Between the two of them, she felt much safer being alone with this one, than the other. "I.. I know Mr. Tunnelly, sort of," She mentioned tentatively. "M-maybe I could help?"

He paused, glancing at her thoughtfully, then took a brief glance around before giving a slow nod. "Alright then, thank you, Miss." He opened the door for her and waited until she had gone inside before following her in.

Brooke hesitated. "Um, it's Brooke." She told him. "And this is Chewy." She added, indicating her dog whom she had made sure followed.

He gave a little nod. "Good to meet you, Brooke. And Chewy."

Brooke gave a little smile before going over to speak with the hobbit behind the counter, fully aware of the guy lingering behind her. The story was the same here, though. Mt. Tunnelly had not met this fellow, nor had he known that the Forsaken Inn had even changed hands.

She smiled apologetically as they went outside again. "Sorry. Um.. there's still a few more places we could check?"

"We..?" He repeated under his breath, but gave a little nod and didn't object. "You know this town rather well, I suppose." He realized.

"I guess so." She paused. "Um, you.. never told me your name." She pointed out tentatively.

He looked at her for a moment, thoughtful. "No, I did not." He agreed, seeming hesitant. "Where do you suggest we try next?" He asked. "My friends have taken other portions of town," He added, then explained the areas that were his 'zone' to check.

Brooke blinked thoughtfully as she considered that, and looked down at her arms wrapped around herself. "Well, um.." She hesitated. "There's the wool place." She drew a slow breath in, then glanced around to make sure that the tanner wasn't around, and started for the Wood's wool shop.

"Why are you so willing to help?" He asked, pausing in stride, in between the shops.

Brooke paused as well, turning back to him. She hesitated. "Well, uh.. I.. you were nice to me. And, you seem to be trying to find someone who's lost. And no one else is likely to help." She mentioned quietly. "You're a ranger, aren't you?" She added more quietly, noticing the slight surprise that flicked across his face before he hid it. She continued, "Not too many people around here are very trusting of rangers. They're.. suspicious or something, I guess." She shrugged and looked down.

"And you aren't?" He asked with a raised an eyebrow.

Brooke shook her head slightly. "No... I.. well, my mother.. I mean, her father was a ranger," She explained quietly. "I never met him, but, my mother really admired him, and from everything she said, he sounded like a really good man." She bit her lip. "Then, my friend and I, well, last winter, we were in trouble, and someone was trapped, and then this ranger came along and helped us.. saved all three of us, and without him.." Her gaze strayed toward where Sully had appeared at the end of the street, coming out of a shop. She turned away again.

"I see." The young ranger answered with a little nod. "And, may I ask, what makes you think that I am a ranger? For I never said any such thing."

Brooke looked up at him, then, briefly at a loss for words. "I... well, I mean, you.." She fidgeted, unsure how to explain it. "You look... ranger-ish." She muttered awkwardly. "You've obviously done a lot of travel, and.. and you speak elvish, and you've fought orcs, and.." She hesitated. "You're trying to find someone, and it sounds like he might be in danger or something." She paused. "Also.. I saw you and your friends come into town, before, with that family, and turn those bandits in." She shrugged. "I know none of that actually means you're a ranger, but it does point to it, and..."

"And you're rather observant." He commented thoughtfully. "What about this other ranger, the one who you say helped you and your friends? Who was he?" He asked, curious.

Brooke looked up at him, hesitating. Thinking about whether to tell him that. Would it make any difference if she did? Was there any harm it could do to him, if someone else knew that name? She stared at him for a long moment, thinking about whether it was safe to tell him this, and ultimately decided that his face was not ugly with darkness and evil. "Gwandhyra." She said softly. "He's a friend of Ms. Seri."

This made him nod slowly in satisfaction. "Ms Seri. I see." He answered, thoughtful. "Let us go to the wool shop." He suggested. After they had taken a few steps, he glanced over at her. "My name is Gwestion, by the way."

Brooke smiled faintly, feeling glad to hear that he was willing to tell her his name, as it somehow seemed significant. As they walked from shop to shop, they talked a bit more, until they had visited every shop in Gwestion's third of town.

"Now, what?" She asked, turning to him with a little frown. No one had been able to tell him anything about this Harbarad fellow.

Gwestion gave a little sigh. "I am not sure. It might be helpful if I could find some sort of documents, relating to the sale of the inn."

Brooke blinked at him. "You mean, like a sales record?"

"Exactly." He looked at her. "Do they keep such records anywhere?"

"Well.. yes. At the record hall." She answered.

"And where is that?"

Brooke quickly gave him some directions to the place.

Gwestion nodded. "Thank you, Miss Brooke. You've been very helpful." He said. "I need to go and find my friends now, but I am grateful to you for your aid."

Brooke smiled slightly. "I'm glad to help." She said quietly.

Gwestion paused. "Would you like an escort home, miss Brooke?" He asked.

"Oh.. no." She shook her head. "I'm alright. Thank you, though." She answered, trying not to sound too panicked at the idea of him walking her to her house. She definitely didn't want to go there. And she didn't want this guy to go there, either.

Gwestion gave another slow nod. "Well. I will be going to find my friends then," He told her. "I hope your day goes well from here." With a tiny smile, he took his leave of her and headed for the Prancing Pony, leaving Brooke on her own.

She glanced around, glad not to see Sully anywhere around. But she didn't quite want to be done helping. The record hall wasn't that far from here. After a little thought, she turned to Chewy. "Come on, let's go see if we can help with searching for that record." She suggested, smiling slightly at her dog as she set off for the hall of records.


(continued here)