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piosenniel · 03-14-2003, 05:08 PM

‘Let’s get that last bale of hay up to the loft!’ Hob stood looking with a critical eye at the hay window at the top of the stable, wondering if he and Faldo could do this themselves. Faldo followed his line of sight up to the pulley apparatus. He rubbed the arm of his shirt across his already sweaty brow, then flexed his tired back and shoulder muscles. ‘I think I’ve got one more pull left in me, Hob. You go on up there and drag it in.’

Faldo rolled up his sleeves and wiped the palms of his hands on his breeches. Leaning over the bale to check the lashings round it were secure, he pulled on rope’s hook to make sure it was set. Hob waved at him from the upper window, hay hooks in hand to draw in the bale once it was raised. Faldo planted his feet firmly and grasping the thick rope, he began to inch it up to the waiting Hob.

Hob signaled with a nod of his head that he had the bale, and pulled it onto the loft as Faldo slackened the rope. ‘Good work, Faldo. Come in and have an ale on the house.’ Hob clapped the Hobbit on the back and started for the kitchen door. ‘I’ll pass on that for today, at least.’ smiled Faldo, walking into the barn. ‘Supper should be ready soon. The missus will be expecting me.’ He took the string of three ponies Hob had indicated to him and headed home to stable them at his holding.

Hob waved him off, and looked back at the stable. That left Mithadan’s horse and one Inn pony left in the stalls. He took the pitchfork and shovel and quickly mucked out the stalls, making sure there was plenty of clean straw in the empty ones as well as the two that were occupied. He had already spread a thick layer about in the loft and left clean blankets up there. He stepped back, once he was done, to survey his handiwork. ‘Good enough!’ he thought. ‘Looks fine for those not concerned about roughing it.’

It was Prim who had suggested he do this. She had sized up the Hobbits who had arrived today, and thought they might be more comfortable in a less confined space. Hob chuckled to himself. ‘She can’t fool me. She doesn’t want that rowdy bunch in the Inn, so she’s given them to me to look after.’

He put the pitchfork back in its place, and brushed the hay dust from his clothes along with a few odd strands of it that had stuck here and there on him. Walking quickly back to the kitchen, he let Prim know the job was done and he’d see her tomorrow.

‘Home to my sweet Minta!’ he called back over his shoulder, smiling as he left the Inn.

[ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

03-14-2003, 05:08 PM	#198
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	‘Let’s get that last bale of hay up to the loft!’ Hob stood looking with a critical eye at the hay window at the top of the stable, wondering if he and Faldo could do this themselves. Faldo followed his line of sight up to the pulley apparatus. He rubbed the arm of his shirt across his already sweaty brow, then flexed his tired back and shoulder muscles. ‘I think I’ve got one more pull left in me, Hob. You go on up there and drag it in.’ Faldo rolled up his sleeves and wiped the palms of his hands on his breeches. Leaning over the bale to check the lashings round it were secure, he pulled on rope’s hook to make sure it was set. Hob waved at him from the upper window, hay hooks in hand to draw in the bale once it was raised. Faldo planted his feet firmly and grasping the thick rope, he began to inch it up to the waiting Hob. Hob signaled with a nod of his head that he had the bale, and pulled it onto the loft as Faldo slackened the rope. ‘Good work, Faldo. Come in and have an ale on the house.’ Hob clapped the Hobbit on the back and started for the kitchen door. ‘I’ll pass on that for today, at least.’ smiled Faldo, walking into the barn. ‘Supper should be ready soon. The missus will be expecting me.’ He took the string of three ponies Hob had indicated to him and headed home to stable them at his holding. Hob waved him off, and looked back at the stable. That left Mithadan’s horse and one Inn pony left in the stalls. He took the pitchfork and shovel and quickly mucked out the stalls, making sure there was plenty of clean straw in the empty ones as well as the two that were occupied. He had already spread a thick layer about in the loft and left clean blankets up there. He stepped back, once he was done, to survey his handiwork. ‘Good enough!’ he thought. ‘Looks fine for those not concerned about roughing it.’ It was Prim who had suggested he do this. She had sized up the Hobbits who had arrived today, and thought they might be more comfortable in a less confined space. Hob chuckled to himself. ‘She can’t fool me. She doesn’t want that rowdy bunch in the Inn, so she’s given them to me to look after.’ He put the pitchfork back in its place, and brushed the hay dust from his clothes along with a few odd strands of it that had stuck here and there on him. Walking quickly back to the kitchen, he let Prim know the job was done and he’d see her tomorrow. ‘Home to my sweet Minta!’ he called back over his shoulder, smiling as he left the Inn. [ March 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.