Half Timing, Half Luck [Bramble]
Mar 4, 2019 9:17:44 GMT -5
Post by Becanbran Townward on Mar 4, 2019 9:17:44 GMT -5
This was it. The moment he had been anxiously dreading for months now. The Three Farthing Stone was right there, and beyond it, a whole new territory unexplored by the gentlehobbit. Some young hobbits of Hobbiton had probably never been east of the stone, but Becanbran was neither young, nor or Hobbiton. Going west over the stone was, so far, an adventure he had been unwilling to undertake. But he supposed there was no way to get around it now... Besides... well... getting around it.
His preparations for the trip had taken him some time. First he'd had the yuletide season to deal with, which of course meant going home to Staddle for a little while and all the gentle ribbing from his older family that came along with it. 'Why aren't you married yet?', 'Why don't you come back come back home?', 'What nonsense have you picked up from those Men in Bree this time?', 'When am I going to get my youngest grandchildren?'. And, of course, when he mentioned that he had plans to go to Michel Delving he didn't hear the end of THAT either. Not because his family didn't want him going that far, but because all of them knew it must be something pretty special to draw him out to the far end of of the Shire when he was so prone to complaining just about having to cross the Brandywine.
The fact that he was absolutely going because there was a pretty girl there didn't save him from the teasing whatsoever, but at least his mother didn't seem to mind that her little raven was seemingly interested in a 'colonist'.
Convincing his boss to let him go on an extended leave for the trip wasn't as difficult as Bec thought it might be. He thought he would have to promise to make up some of the work later, or work extra hard leading up to it, or willingly take a cut in pay, but it turned out alright. When the words 'visit the Town Hole and the Mathom-house' left Bec's lips, the innkeeper waved him away, said 'fine fine, I don't want to interfere with no hobbit business', and that was the end of it.
And now here he was at the Three Farthing stone, with a pony, a covered cart that made travel a little slower but significantly more comfortable, and a bundle of butterflies sitting right there at the bottom of his chest. He took in a deep breath, ushered the pony to go onward, and continued making his way to the capital of the Shire.
Bec arrived in the town one sunny afternoon, though of course the time of year kept it from being especially warm. He saw all the stone, brick, and wood houses of the hilly region, and couldn't help but smile a bit as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Bramble about it. They really did remind him of the houses in Bree, but with round doors. It gave him a comforting sense of familiarity, even when he was further from 'familiar' than ever.
He pulled up to the Mathom-house first, reasoning that it might be the best place to find Bramble, and if he didn't at least he could get in a sneak preview of the mathoms before she got a chance to show him around formally. He hopped down from his cart and tapped his bare, flat feet against the ground with excitement. He pat his pony's cheek and tied him up with some food and water, and tried to stride into the building full of oddities with something resembling self-confidence for once in his life.
Naturally it deflated the moment he crossed through the round threshold, shrinking a bit on himself as his eyes tried to take in everything at once, but, hey, you could at least give a hobbit some points for trying.
His preparations for the trip had taken him some time. First he'd had the yuletide season to deal with, which of course meant going home to Staddle for a little while and all the gentle ribbing from his older family that came along with it. 'Why aren't you married yet?', 'Why don't you come back come back home?', 'What nonsense have you picked up from those Men in Bree this time?', 'When am I going to get my youngest grandchildren?'. And, of course, when he mentioned that he had plans to go to Michel Delving he didn't hear the end of THAT either. Not because his family didn't want him going that far, but because all of them knew it must be something pretty special to draw him out to the far end of of the Shire when he was so prone to complaining just about having to cross the Brandywine.
The fact that he was absolutely going because there was a pretty girl there didn't save him from the teasing whatsoever, but at least his mother didn't seem to mind that her little raven was seemingly interested in a 'colonist'.
Convincing his boss to let him go on an extended leave for the trip wasn't as difficult as Bec thought it might be. He thought he would have to promise to make up some of the work later, or work extra hard leading up to it, or willingly take a cut in pay, but it turned out alright. When the words 'visit the Town Hole and the Mathom-house' left Bec's lips, the innkeeper waved him away, said 'fine fine, I don't want to interfere with no hobbit business', and that was the end of it.
And now here he was at the Three Farthing stone, with a pony, a covered cart that made travel a little slower but significantly more comfortable, and a bundle of butterflies sitting right there at the bottom of his chest. He took in a deep breath, ushered the pony to go onward, and continued making his way to the capital of the Shire.
Bec arrived in the town one sunny afternoon, though of course the time of year kept it from being especially warm. He saw all the stone, brick, and wood houses of the hilly region, and couldn't help but smile a bit as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Bramble about it. They really did remind him of the houses in Bree, but with round doors. It gave him a comforting sense of familiarity, even when he was further from 'familiar' than ever.
He pulled up to the Mathom-house first, reasoning that it might be the best place to find Bramble, and if he didn't at least he could get in a sneak preview of the mathoms before she got a chance to show him around formally. He hopped down from his cart and tapped his bare, flat feet against the ground with excitement. He pat his pony's cheek and tied him up with some food and water, and tried to stride into the building full of oddities with something resembling self-confidence for once in his life.
Naturally it deflated the moment he crossed through the round threshold, shrinking a bit on himself as his eyes tried to take in everything at once, but, hey, you could at least give a hobbit some points for trying.