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mark12_30 · 03-23-2020, 06:37 PM

Sounds of rummaging and a bit of clanking and clacking were interspersed with muttering. mark12_30 rummages deep in a closet. “The brown cloak or the blue? Green trousers or brown trousers? weskit or an embroidered red vest?” Stepping back with a snort, mark12_30 sputters, “Character first. THEN costume.” A little pause, and then...”Lindo.”

Lindo, now grey at the temples and a little less spry, approached the great door with some trepidation. Reaching just above eye-level for the man-sized handle, he wrestled with it for several moments; then with both hands, gave it a hard tug. The door flew open and the hobbit flew backward with it. “Ow,” came a clear tenor voice muffled by the hand that held his nose.

“Oh, dear, “ cried Estelyn, swooping toward the bloody halfling. “You should have knocked! Please, come inside where I can help you better!”

“It’s just my nose,” came the muffled tenor reply. “I am sorry.”

“I see,” Estelyn sighed with relief, and then ordered him inside. “You’ll frighten passers by if you stay out here. In you go. No, not the Ballroom yet. Here’s a towel. Take a bucket out the back door, scoop up some water from the cistern and wash up. Off you go!”

Still muttering apologies, Lindo did as he was told, and then he washed the towel and hung it in the sun to dry. When he returned, he came through the kitchen and stood for a while in the kitchen doorway, listening. He had not been inside an inn for many years. The ballroom was modest but lovely; he had a strange sense that no matter how many more people came, there would slways be enough room,
Estelyn, Thinlomien and Legate were speaking by the fireplace, while a fellow in blue trousers sporting a toolbox was inspecting the hinges and the patches in a nearby window. Lindo resisted the urge to refer him to the latch of the great door, choosing rather to gently suggest the idea to Estelyn.

And then he saw the rockers, and the quilts. Heaving a sigh of relief, he crossed the ballroom as quietly as a hobbit can, chose a rocker, turned it to face the small gathering, climbed precariously into it as it wavered with his movements, sat down and cocooned himself in the quilt, as he listened to the conversation. He wondered if his nose would turn black and blue.

03-23-2020, 06:37 PM	#7
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Sounds of rummaging and a bit of clanking and clacking were interspersed with muttering. mark12_30 rummages deep in a closet. “The brown cloak or the blue? Green trousers or brown trousers? weskit or an embroidered red vest?” Stepping back with a snort, mark12_30 sputters, “Character first. THEN costume.” A little pause, and then...”Lindo.” Lindo, now grey at the temples and a little less spry, approached the great door with some trepidation. Reaching just above eye-level for the man-sized handle, he wrestled with it for several moments; then with both hands, gave it a hard tug. The door flew open and the hobbit flew backward with it. “Ow,” came a clear tenor voice muffled by the hand that held his nose. “Oh, dear, “ cried Estelyn, swooping toward the bloody halfling. “You should have knocked! Please, come inside where I can help you better!” “It’s just my nose,” came the muffled tenor reply. “I am sorry.” “I see,” Estelyn sighed with relief, and then ordered him inside. “You’ll frighten passers by if you stay out here. In you go. No, not the Ballroom yet. Here’s a towel. Take a bucket out the back door, scoop up some water from the cistern and wash up. Off you go!” Still muttering apologies, Lindo did as he was told, and then he washed the towel and hung it in the sun to dry. When he returned, he came through the kitchen and stood for a while in the kitchen doorway, listening. He had not been inside an inn for many years. The ballroom was modest but lovely; he had a strange sense that no matter how many more people came, there would slways be enough room, Estelyn, Thinlomien and Legate were speaking by the fireplace, while a fellow in blue trousers sporting a toolbox was inspecting the hinges and the patches in a nearby window. Lindo resisted the urge to refer him to the latch of the great door, choosing rather to gently suggest the idea to Estelyn. And then he saw the rockers, and the quilts. Heaving a sigh of relief, he crossed the ballroom as quietly as a hobbit can, chose a rocker, turned it to face the small gathering, climbed precariously into it as it wavered with his movements, sat down and cocooned himself in the quilt, as he listened to the conversation. He wondered if his nose would turn black and blue. __________________ ...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.