[piosenniel]

Chathol-linn's post - Harald

“The best thing your Mum ever did as Mayor was holding these weekly market days,” observed Telien. The two men sat in the new Mayor’s kitchen that overlooked the street and the town below.

“The market days and keeping the streets in order,” agreed Harald. “Let’s have a look at the market, shall we? It’s the first one since Mum died and I should make an appearance, I think.” He tied his red scarf around his neck – symbol of the mayor’s office – and the two went down the narrow stairs to the front door.

“You’ll have to make a more important appearance soon,” said Telien. “Did you hear the news?”

Harald had many ways of hearing the news. He said, “Wanderers in the Wild. Rangers, crying doom. Their party is staying at the Pony.” They were walking downhill from the good residential section of Bree, where houses were two-story stone and the streets were paved – yes, paved – with Brandywine river gravel. Also, a Hobbit family from one of the outlying villages had found a way to chop tree branches and saplings to make a rough mulch. Parts of Bree actually had side trails of springy shredded bark as a result.

“This beats mud,” observed Telien.

Harald was not so sure. “I miss mud,” he said. “If this drought continues, wells could dry up. Livestock could die. Crops already are withering. As for that bunch of Archet Hobbits, downed tree limbs might be the best crop they can come up with this year. Of all the things we don’t need just now, it is scary stories from uncivilized folk. I want you at the meeting, Telien. The Captain of Guard must hear with his own ears if this is a credible threat.” And Telien nodded.

They were now come to the place of the market fair, a little dell in the Bree Hill just south of The Prancing Pony Inn. In former times it had been grassy and green. Now it was dull and browning. That was not the only change.

“Where is everyone?” wondered Telien. For many of the accustomed stalls and stands were not there. It was the middle of Halimath yet noticeably lacking was the fall produce of the rich outlying farms. In their places stood the stalls of Hobbit townsfolk, displaying their cottage-made crafts. The crowd of marketers was thinner than Harald had ever seen.

“This is worrisome,” said Harald. “At first I thought the market fair brought us and the Hobbits too close together. I thought Mum was a bit off, to tell you the truth. Then, their farms did well, and next thing you know, the townsfolk are relying on the Hobbit farms and villages for basic foodstuffs and raw materials.”

“But they relied on us for lumber and smithed products, and a market for their wares. They bartered with us fairly and spent their coin in our taverns and shops,” Telien said reasonably.

“I shall just want to keep an eye on them,” said Harald. “They may befriend us when times are easy but in times of trouble they will keep to their own, just you watch. Big is Big and Little is Little.”

Harald contemplated the Hobbits and their visible impact on the economy a moment longer. Then he said, “I will see you at the meeting. Maybe these … Rangers are alarmed over nothing.” He didn’t sound convincing even to himself. “Meanwhile, I must leave you a while, my brother. I have an errand at the stables.”

[ September 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]