Thread: Dagor Dagorath

Moira Brandybuck The Shire - Brandywine Bridge As Moira or 'Brandy' as the younger hobbits called her, unpacked Tom's saddle bags, the hobbits scrambled for their dishes. She was pleased to see that Nathaniel did keep two of the hobbits-in-arms focused on watching the bridge and nearby water even as the others eagerly queued up for the meal. What did you bring us Brandy? One of them asked as she began to open covered containers as if she were hosting a picnic and not feeding an outpost. It was all just a little surreal, no hobbit in living memory had fought anything like a battle, they didn't even fight among themselves for the most part. The hobbits her age still talked about the day Brandy had flattened Nathaniel and made him promise to never pull her hair again. Sausage stew Rollo, your favorite as I recall. She said with a wink to Rollo Lightfoot, who resembled his given name much more than his family name, was a pudgy little fellow with a round face and a quick smile. She strongly suspected just about everything was his favorite. Moira made the rounds, even delivering food to the two left 'on duty' and she was just beginning to pack up when she heard little Clovis call out that someone was coming. She steadied Tom as he snorted at the bustle of activity around them. Two hobbits drew bows as the others made ready staves and short swords. Nervous sweaty little hands, more than one trembling a little, knuckles white with holding so hard as to not drop them. The Shire is closed. Nathaniel shouted from his end, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The lone figure on the other side of the bridge looked fierce indeed, the glint of armor from his chest and helm reflecting off the torch light which seemed wholly inadequate as it approached noon. Do you think there are more of them? A nervous Rudolph Hairyfoot asked, expressing the fears of the others. As a strong voice replied from the other side, announcing the name of the traveler there was a flurry of small voices all talking at once. Despite their elaborate duty schedules and flourishes of weapons, they really weren't sure about what to do about peaceful travelers. Men were not supposed to come to The Shire but this was not a man. He's a dwarf. Moira whispered, having come up from behind them to stand behind Nathaniel. She listened to the plans of the dwarf along with the others. Nathaniel's voice called back again. The Shire is closed, you must go....Owww. The hobbits voice was cut short by a thump to the back of his head. He is a dwarf Nathaniel, not an orc, he should be welcomed. Moira's voice was clearly feminine though the dwarf would need an elves ears to hear her properly at that distance. Besides, he might have some word of what is going on. Moira wasn't really the type to wait for permission. It was her voice that called across this time. Come forward friend, and be recognized. The other hobbits looked among each other with uncertainty. Moira decided she would need to act to keep one of the nervous archers from shooting their first contact with the outside world since the darkness fell. She pushed past an angry Nathaniel, who seemed to splutter a few unkind words about a 'she-devil' but didn't try to stop her. She slipped easily under the gate and walked to the middle of the bridge. I am Moira Brandybuck, welcome to The Shire friend dwarf. She gave a small bow. She knew she had very practical and good reasons for welcoming this dwarf to The Shire. She was less certain of the reason she felt the need to smooth out her long skirt and throw her shoulders back to emphasize her femininity. We don't have any beer but there is some warm food left if you are hungry. Her smile was genuine though most of her facial details were hidden in shadow with the torchlight behind her. Come and eat then I can guide you to the inn and that beer, it is on my way.