A Land to Call Their Own RPG

[piosenniel]

Alaklondewen’s post

The gusty wind ruffled the skirts, aprons, and coat-tails of the hobbit-folk gathering in the center of Bree where a meeting had been called for all the hobbits in and around the town that mid-morning. Groups of ladies stood huddled laughing and gossiping about what the subject of the meeting could possibly be. Merry children ran and played in the streets, while their fathers leaned against the surrounding trees, smoking long wooden pipes, and the discussing the politics of the day.

A short wooden podium had been erected overnight on the small stage in front of the community hall, behind which two middle-aged hobbits talked in hushed whispers with their backs to the crowd.

“Well, brother, spirits seem to be high and with the nice weather the folk should receive our proposition favorably,” the taller of the two spoke to the other who kept his eyebrows furrowed and eyes on the small paper he held in his hands.

“I hope you are right in your thinking, Blanco, but we must not let our heads reach the clouds.” The hobbit turned slightly and looked over his shoulder at the townspeople. Then after taking a deep breath, he continued, “I believe all are here who wish to be…let us begin.”

Blanco nodded in agreement with his brother and walked silently to the podium. He greeted the crowd, but the excited voices of hobbit-folk drowned out his initial attempt. Looking around the podium and his feet, Blanco coolly stepped to the side of the stage and reached a large stone roughly the size of his fist. As soon as he returned to the podium, he pounded the stone on the side of the structure producing a thunderous sound that promptly hushed the voices of the crowd. Raising his arms in greeting, the hobbit welcomed the hobbit-folk and thanked them for coming. “My name is Blanco Bolger. My brother, Marcho Bolger, and I come before you today to offer all of you an opportunity the likes of which will live on in the stories of our descendents.” Blanco paused and cleared his throat before continuing, letting his words sink in. The crowd appropriately responded with much murmuring. “I may be getting ahead of myself…please allow me to back up a moment. During the last several years, Bree has been a desirable place for many to live…too many. I know that most if not all of you feel the pressures of the growing population everyday. The available land for young families is becoming scarce, our streets are cluttered with the waste of too many, and there is ever the threat of war from the east.” Pausing again, Blanco watched the fathers nod, and a few “that’s true” and “he’s right” were tossed out. “How would feel if I told you we have a solution? We do. We will begin to settle the land to the west. We have lived among the Big People too long, and now we can have a land to call our own!” The crowd immediately began raising their voices with approval and opposition. Blanco raised his hands to the folk and called “please, please, wait” until they had quieted once more. “We understand many of you will have questions and comments, but if I may, I would like you to hold off for just a minute, while my brother gives you some information about the location…Marcho?” The hobbit stepped back to allow room for Marcho to come forward.

Marcho, the more serious and older of the two brothers, unfolded the small paper he’d been studying earlier and laid it flat on the podium. Speaking before others was not something this hobbit enjoyed, and he remained silent for the moment, gathering his thoughts before beginning. “Those of you who know my brother and I well will know that for the last several months we have been surveying the land beyond the Baranduin.” The hobbit paused, squinted at what was close to the noon sun, and wiped the nervous sweat from his forehead. “What we have found is a rich, uninhabited land. Approximately one hundred leagues west of the river, we will settle the hills of the White Downs. These hills will not only provide desirable living space, but will protect us from future threats.” Marcho glanced at his notes periodically as he spoke. “The White Hills are surrounded by lush lowlands that will provide land ideal for farming. Our settlement will be in a prime location for obtaining trade with the Men of Arnor and the Elves of Lindon. This factor will benefit our people immensely. We, as a unified people, can hardly afford to let this opportunity pass.”

Here, Marcho stepped back and Blanco came once more and stood beside his brother. “We have contacted King Argeleb II and received permission to enter the land and settle in all the land beyond the river Baranduin to the Far Downs. Our only obligations will be to keep the bridges and roads in good repair, aid the King’s messengers, and acknowledge his Lordship as our King. One week from today, we will leave the gates of our fair city and lead all those families who wish to be apart of this momentous occasion. This will truly be a day that will live on in the stories of our descendents.” Blanco waved his fist in the air as a sign of victory.

Marcho, always calm and rational, said, “We will now take any questions or concerns you may have. We will take our time and answer you in an orderly fashion. Please feel free to voice your opinions. This is an important day for all of us, and we want to be sure you have enough information to make a well-thought out decision." Marcho then announced to the Hobbits that all those who wanted to go along should meet back at the West Gate, all packed up to travel, in one week's time.

The brothers spent the next few hours in front of the townspeople answering questions and debating the need to make such a move. Many of the hobbits were passionate about their concerns, and some, who make it very clear they disagreed, stomped away from the meeting grumbling and calling out their complaints.