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Old 11-22-2002, 11:22 AM   #31
Rimbaud
The Perilous Poet
 
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Join Date: Apr 2002
Location: Heart of the matter
Posts: 1,096
Rimbaud has just left Hobbiton.
Pipe

Upon noticing the mild commotion, Rimbaud sighed and rose. He exchanged a brief and good humoured glance with the venerable wizard. His blue eyes sparkled with some inner amusement as he crossed the Inn towards the great fireplace. People fell quiet as he approached the prostrate young Hobbit, the better to hear his judgment. The Elf Pio looked as though she wished to stand and intervene, but Mithadan laid a hand on her forearm and she remained seated, although she watched proceedings intently. Birdland sat, observing with apparent nonchalance.

Rimbaud reached the lamp. Gamba's head, with its unruly curls was on a level with his own. Rimbaud sighed again. With no visible effort, he picked Gamba up by his collar, unhooked him from the Great Wyrm lamp and help him at arms length, examining him.

"Good Sir," he started gravely, and those listening laughed at the adult formality within the Innkeeper's voice, as the addressed dangled ridiculously before him. "Good Sir, your face is not familiar to me. I do not remember your arrival," This was untrue, the Innkeeper had a knack for knowing precisely who was in the Star at any time. "It seems we have received a complaint about you, my good man...Hobbit."

Rimbaud squinted at the Hobbit, who was flapping his arms and legs and trying to speak, but no words would come. "Wait...are you old enough to be here?" asked Rimbaud in a slightly incredulous voice, as if the fact had only just become apparent to him.

"Sir...I....Sir, I am here with them!" cried the Hobbit child. He pointed, as best he could, at the table where the fair Elf couple sat, amongst friends. The tall Mithadan quirked an eyebrow and Rimbaud nodded.

"And it is good you came," declared Rimbaud, solemnly, placing Gamba back on the ground and straightening his shirt. "For the cook has been looking for you."

"The cook?" stuttered Gamba, thoroughly confused.

"Aye, the cook," said the Innkeeper. "He has been waiting for you, as there is a great pile of dishes that needs to be washed!"

Gamba spluttered indignantly, but there was no arguing with Rimbaud, and before the laughter in the room had died down, he had been swept out of the common room and through the small wooden door, recessed in the white wall to the right of the fireplace.

Gandalf nodded mock gravely as Rimbaud returned to his great desk. Birdland was still thumping the desk, convulsed in helpless laughter, mirthful tears streaming down her face.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]
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