Breelanders All! RPG

[piosenniel]

Annunfuiniel's post - Rosco

Rosco stood on the doorstep of his hobbit hole and breathed deep the fresh morning air. The sun was still low on the eastern sky and the wind had not yet woken. What a fine day to go hunting! the hobbit mused and turned to get his bow from inside when suddenly a rattle of cartwheels reached his ears and made him glance back.

A plump pony trudged slowly up the road from Staddle towards Rosco’s burrow and the small red cart behind the beast swayed gently from side to side with every move. On the driver's seat there sat a grey figure that to a stranger would have seemed to be nodding in sleep. But Rosco recognised the comer and smiled.

“Good morning, dear old Hamson!” Rosco called out and raised his hand in greeting; “You’re early on the road. Going to town?”

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Woodfarer. The early bird catches the worm, they say – and the early hobbit gets a second breakfast says I. It sure looks like a fine day coming; yesterday’s rain was just what we needed! And yes, I’m on me way to Bree to visit me son and his family – he keeps a little shop now, you know; 'What ye can imagine that lad can carve' I used to tell all and now he’s tryin’ to make a living out of that art. And then I must run some errands: sell this and buy that, you see. Though I must say there’s not much to sell… But here we go again! I just rattle on and almost forget the reason for me call!” The old hobbit rummaged around his bags and baskets; “Where did I put it… Ah, there!” he handed out a small, warm package.

“Me wife told me to give this to you. 'Take this bread to Mr. Woodfarer,' she says; 'for bread doesn’t grow in trees and yet he walks in the woods all days long. We must take care of him!'”

The grey hobbit grinned; “'Take care of him?' I says to her; 'Mr. Woodfarer’s no lad anymore; surely he knows how to look after himself!' But did she take heed of me words? Why of course not!”

Rosco listened to this flood of speech smilingly. But he knew well the value of the gift and thought hard how he could repay the old hobbit couple. Finally he had a chance to speak; “Thank your kind wife for the bread and for her concern.” The delicious smell of the fresh baking flowed to Rosco’s nostrils and he had an idea. “But tell me: would it ease her heart if she did the baking for me from now on? I was thinking maybe three or four times a week? I would pay her what I’ve paid to the bakery before.”

Old Hamson took his hat in his hand and bowed his head; “Thank you, Sir; I’ll ask her. But I’d say she’ll be only pleased to hear this offer.”

Rosco watched as the cart and pony disappeared down the hill and then he stepped inside. Soon he appeared again, wrapped in his grey cloak and carrying his bow, quiver hanging from his belt. He headed towards the sunrise and soon vanished into the green shadows of the wood.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rosco returned to his burrow couple of hours later, whistling a merry tune. He felt refreshed as always on such a day when things seemed to flow smoothly from the beginning.

The round green door swung open with a barely noticeable creak and Rosco stepped in. He hung the bow on its place on the wall and the quiver – the arrows this time untouched – right beside the weapon. Then he just stood there for a moment or two staring into the distance, suddenly unwilling to stay inside though his stomach – which could be quite persuasive - would have been willing to steer his steps towards the kitchen.

Then slowly Rosco's stare became focused again and his lips curved in to a smile. Of course! I'll go see Mausi and the kids – that's the way to perfect the day! The thought of a pleasant visit – and the unintentional rhyming – made Rosco chuckle. He made a quick stop in to the kitchen, then stepped out and headed down the hill with the smell of freshly-baked bread following close behind.

[ September 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]