[Imladris]

October 30th -- night

Olo stretched as he saw that they had reached the Shirebourne. "Drat those Big Folks...those men...those oafs," he mutterd to himself as he began to unroll his blankets. "Big Folk, eh?" he spluttered. "Big in brawn and big in height, but small in brains! They knew they were to meet us near Tookland and they ain't there. What a surprise," he snorted.

Perching like a barrel upon his wooly heals, Olo lit his pipe and mused the news that Hob had brought about the parcel of hobbits that he had seen. He frowned, and began to absently trace a square in the ground. Then he added some checks and did a rough outline of the figures on a chess board. "We're black, for bad," he mumbled through his pipe. "They're white for goody goodies." He blew a smoke ring on the board and studied it. "Hey, Brass me mate, what do them Tooks like, 'specially ole Paladin an' his gang?"

"Food," Brass suggested helpfully, glancing up from a piece of bread.

Olo rolled his eyes and stifled a sigh. "Every hobbit likes food, Brass," he said, pausing slightly after each word and adding particular stress to the word 'hobbit.' "Use yore head, Brassy," he added snappishly. "No...no...they're after something," he murmured, moving his bishop to threaten the king who posed for old Paladin.

With a heave he crawled around to the opposite side and pretended to be Paladin. "What kind o' fellow is Paladin?" he called to no one in particular.

"Kindly," Hob said promptly glancing at Olo.

"They're always kindly," Olo muttered. "Let's see...the men 'ave taken their food." He movied a pawn, a horse, threatening his bishop.

He switched sides again. "They have plenty of food at the block houses. We don't let them starve because they can't work when they're a rotting corpse in the ground." His rook retreated.

"We're in want of beer," Olo said nasally, mimicking Paladin. The white pawn that guarded the queen hopped forward two steps.

"Any hobbit can make beer," Olo snapped, bringing his knight into play.

"We're on a farming expedition," a pawn whined as he left the king's side unguarded.

"Too many people for that, especially with the lass," the black queen retorted, leaving the side of her liege.

"Relatives are sick," a bishop suggested as it manuevered itself so that it could threaten the black king in a move or two.

"I don't think so," said the black knight as it swept the white bishop off the field.

"A maying party," a pawn said, advancing warily a step.

Olo scowled at the board and swore quietly. The pipe fell from his mouth, the precious leaf spilled from the bowl and skipped dryly onto the dusty board. Of course. The Leaf supply was about cut off from the hobbits, especially the Tooks. They had to have run out somehow and instead of submitting to Sharkey, the fool had decided to go and get some, somehow. "Tobacco," the queen whispered as she glided up the board. "Checkmate, Paladin."

[ October 04, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]