[piosenniel]

Child's post

Branda awoke with a jolt. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the Inn as big and little folk began the serious business of surviving in a time of hardship. Lying on his back and staring out at the whirling gusts of snow that were still beating againt the frosted window pane, he suddenly had the dreadful feeling that he'd seriously overslept.

Tomba had already gone from his bed, as had all the other hobbits. Every space was empty but his own, with the gear packed away and hauled down to the common room. For one minute, he wondered if his strange experiences from the night before might only have been a dream. Still, the new leather shield standing near his feet was reassuringly solid.

He hurriedly threw on breeches and shirt, plus several vests and a sweater, trailing his heavy cloak behind him. Then he ran downstairs, with packs and weapons in tow, to see if there was any breakfast left. Branda spied one spot left at the end table where Lotho and Carl were seated next to Dafodyl, and grabbed for the last few spoonfuls of oatmeal that were still left standing at the bottom of the pot. There were a number of catcalls and hoots from his companions about the problem of lazy hobbits. He hunched down lower on the bench, and turned a livid shade of red. Served him right for oversleeping!

Best get moving quickly, he thought. For already Bullroarer was calling out his name, to get the hobbits lined up with their belongings, and to make sure that Olo knew what to do nd where to go.

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Piosenniel's post

The early morning weather had been dreadful. Snow thick as lamb’s wool filled the air, and beat against the windows. By midmorning, when the Hobbits had gotten themselves all ready for travel, the weather had lightened, lifting their spirits considerably. The pale sun shone warmly on the frozen landscape, penetrating the snow and ice as it could. Bullroarer walked briskly to the stables to see to the ponies. The icicles were drip, drip, dripping from the corners of the roof, and he welcomed the small sign as a lucky one, even as a chilled drop of water hit the back of his neck and crept down his shirt.

He harnessed the pony to his wagon and pulled it out into the courtyard, bringing it to a halt in front of the Inn’s door. He pulled gently on the reins. ‘Whoa up!’ Branda was standing there, cajoling the companions into getting their belongings loaded onto the wagon. The Took could tell from most of their faces that an extra hour or two or three of sleep would have been welcome.

‘Got to take care of business while we have some sun to warm our faces!’ He jumped from the wagon and helped the younger ones heave their packs up to the small pile already there. He had already placed the box of gifts for Rivendell securely under the seat and now he lit a small, driving lantern and hung it on the hook by his seat.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Daisy, spying the feeble light of the hooded lantern. ‘It’s not dark yet, why did you light it.’

‘An admirable question Daisy!’ He waved his arms for all the Hobbits to gather round him. ‘I want you all to be sure you’ve got your weapons and armor handy for the rest of the trip. There have been reports of Wargs – both from Olo and from Carl, who has seen recent tracks nearby.

Bullroarer threw back the canvas tarp that had covered the long pile of brands from the Shire. ‘This is what the lantern is for – to light these pitchy torches should we have need of them. Should that occur – grab a brand, light it and stand ringed in a circle. We can put our bowmen inside the circle to defend us.’ He looked round at the now pale faces of the Hobbits. ‘I hope it does not come to that.’

Soon they were ready and Bullroarer called for them to head down the road. Bright sun cast shadows on the wary features of their faces.

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]