[Child of the 7th Age]

Before Andreth could get more than a half dozen steps down the hall, there was a sharp rap on the kitchen door; she hurried back, turned the latch, and opened it an inch or two, peeking through the crack. Cook came scurrying just behind, her plump fingers securely wrapped around the handle of a hefty cast-iron pan. She peered around Andreth's taller form and strained to catch a glimpse of who was standing on the steps, suspiciously eying the intruder. "Anything wrong, Mistress Andreth? Is this fellow giving you problems? Can't be too careful in times like these!"

The Innkeeper turned and emphatically shook her head, "Oh, no! No problem at all." She went on to explain, "Cook, this is Master Berilac, the Ranger who addressed the meeting tonight. I expect he's come on business."

Cook cautiously eyed the stranger and muttered something under her breath about how the hobbit looked even smaller close up than he'd first seemed in front of the crowd. Andreth blushed with embarassment and beckoned Berilac inside, hastening quickly through the kitchen and down the stairwell to the small nook on the lowest floor that served as her office. The ceiling was barely high enough for Andreth to stand up without hitting her head on the rafters.

Once inside, the Innkeeper gestured for Berilac to sit down and offered a brief apology, "I'm sorry about Cook. You'll have to excuse her. People are jumpy with all this talk of bandits and assault." What she did not say, although it was equally obvious, was that Cook had had few dealings with hobbits and tended to view them with unabashed suspicion.

"Your office?...." the Ranger observed, glancing around the room. "It looks a bit like a burrow,"

Andreth smiled and nodded, "So I've been told before! And, now that I've seen Mausi's house, I understand what your people meant. I had the room put in just two years ago by Master Rolo, one of the craftsman who hails from Coombe. There was a tiny unused space under the stairwell, and he swore he could turn it into a livable office, even for someone who's my size. I haven't been sorry. It's my hideaway where I come when other things get too bad."

Berilac looked up and laughed, "And tonight was one of those nights?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it was. But there's no use dwelling on that." She shrugged her shoulders and pointed towards the mound of scribbled papers still scattered about her desk. "I'd just like to figure out a way we could gather in some of the crops from the surrounding countryside to store at the Inn. I talked with Master Harald about it, and he agrees it's essential. We could be in for a long siege, and our stock of foodstuffs may make the difference. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem possible, at least not now."

Berilac looked up and politely inquired, "But why?"

Harald says most of the Breelanders with wagons will be helping to re-dig the ditches and then hauling away the dirt to shore up the fortifications on the northern side of town, where the damage is most extensive. He's working on getting more volunteers, but who knows how long that will take? I had hoped Minastan could help. But he only looks at me and mumbles some vague excuse that he won't be available for some time."

She sighed and shook her head, "I don't know what we're going to do. The children can help sort and list the things, if we can just figure out a way to have them hauled back to the Inn."

She glanced over at Minastan and added half apologetically, "You know, we need some big burly types who aren't afraid of long days and hard work. Gathering in all those crops one or two loads at a time will be back breaking labor, I fear."

"And, now, Berilac," she added, "what can I do to help you?"

[ October 15, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]