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Special Abilities/Background:
+5 Primary Skill (Perception) Loëndë (Midyear), T.A. 1640
+15 Persuasion (calm and soothing voice)
+5 Magic Item (Cloak-Stalk/Hide)
Race Friend (Dwarves)
Base Hits: 18
Total Hits: 21
Armor Type: 1
Items:
One Magical Flute
Appearance: Fred Underhill towers over the other members of the group at an even meter, looking imperiously...well, no actually not, let's start again. Fred is easily overlooked, standing but a meter tall. For those who have seen Hobbits before he appears to be wiry for a Hobbit, almost proportionally more like a man. As Hobbits go he is...how shall we say...not particularly attractive. For those who have not seen a Hobbit before, you wonder if Hobbits are a cross between humans and dogs or goats. Despite his lack of physical beauty, Fred does have a peculiar charm about him and is fairly likeable...maybe it is just pity? Fred is attired in the latest Armani survival gear, featuring woollen (an ancestor perhaps?) pants and shirt, both in earthen tones. He has a wide leather belt with a dagger in a sheath, and a crossbow on his back, but no other weapons or armor. He has a leather backpack and a long...well at least for him...cloak that appears to be reversable. It is white on the outside and black on the inside. Despite the cold, Fred wears no shoes on his hairy feet.
Fred was settling in, getting ready to try his hand at the first of the events, the 'Spoon & Egg' race; where contestants would try to run a course while balancing an egg on top of a spoon held into their mouths. They would not be allowed to touch the spoon in any way, except by holding it in their mouth. If the egg dropped, they were out of the contest.
Fred had had to borrow a spoon from the innkeeper and regrettably, it was a small one; and the egg he'd purchased (deduct one quarter-c.p.) was large - far too much for the spoon; but there were none to be had that were smaller since proud farmers were bringing only their best and biggest to market this day. Wise contestants had long earlier secured for themselves large spoons and smaller eggs. Odds it seems were weighted against Fred. It didn't help at all when a large dirty foot, reeking of manure, planted itself upon poor Fred's eggs, smashing it altogether.
Fred was just about to comment upon this. But as his shock was subsiding, he was picked up by his shirt and hoisted very high to gaze into a ruddy jowly face. This man's unkind breath blew past him like a wind that had lingered far too long in a farmer's compost heap, carrying with it a wretched odour.
"'Ere, you then. Yer friends with tha' comely lass aren' ya?"
Fred coughed and then answered. "Who Clarissa? Yes, I am."
He looked at the hold man who was speaking to him and the assembly of seven fat giants who he supposed to be the man's sons and one daughter.
""Ere now. My daughter, Jaina 'ere, is entered ta be the most comely lass in these parts."
Fred looked at Jaina and then at the farmer, his eyes widening. "May Eru be with you then, sir. Such a, er, lovely specimen of human womankind. Rest assured and allow me to give you my, um, compliments. Looking at your daughter and considering the poor looks of my friend, Clarissa, I can say the choice is already made."
The young woman giggled, displaying her own personal lack of dentures, while her lumpy body moved in a mysterious and rather fluid fashion under her dress.
"Should I stick 'im, Pa?" the mentally deficient sounding giant holding Fred asked.
"Not until I tell 'ee, son." the man answered. "My Jaina is goin ta win that contest, I tell 'ee. You agree that she should?"
"Ow," Fred said, feeling a prick in his back as he kept his eyes out for Ranciryon. "Certainly, I would agree, sir. From where I stand, er, see, no one else has a claim to the title. I acknowledge the correctness of this. But as I'm not a judge ..."
"Two uv our cousins are judges," the old farmer explained. "But now with yer friend is here - sumthin we hadn't planned on - that might not be enough. She'll have to leave the contest, if you understand my meaning."
"Well, I just can't tell her to do that. Perhaps if you had a similar discussion with her - she would see the logic."
"Naw, we wouldin want ta be that obvious, now would we. Of course, if she were ta win - I'd hate ta think what would happen to 'er."
The farmers sons all grinned at one another.
"Course, causing my Jaina grief an' all when the prize is rightly 'ers - anything that 'appened to your friend - and to YOU - would be justice."
Fred only swallowed.
"Put 'im down, lads. He sees our meaning, I think."
Fred was put down on the ground, but so thick was the ring of very large men around him, that it almost seemed to block out the sun.
"Here, Blotho, you've gone an' crushed his egg, you 'ave. Give 'im another."
A brown egg appeared in an even browner hand. The egg was smashed into Fred's face while the soiled fingers rubbed it over his face and even into his mouth, causing him to gag.
"Remember, Half-runt, if you expect ta live past this night, you'll see your friend doesn't win that contest. Fail me, an my boys will skin you like a stuck pig and I'll be wearin your hide for slippers."
Like a reeking herd, the farmers moved off, leaving Fred alone and eggless. Securing a new egg for the contest would be the least of his problems now.
Fred sat shivering with fear for awhile before slowly collecting himself. Flashbacks of torches in the Shire long ago made an unwanted appearance in his mind as he rushed through the crowd looking for Clarissa and Ranciryon.
When he finally came upon Clarissa, he blurted out the story and then stood there panting.
"Clarissa, big, smelly, men...crushed egg...Jaina must win...skin me alive...too many."
Inexplicably, Clarissa left Fred and went to talk to a well dressed and, Fred thought jealously, handsome blond giant standing nearby. She looked over and pointed at Fred, a look of anger and concern on her face as she talked with this man. Fred waited patiently... if nervously...while Clarissa talked to the stranger.
"Fred....Fred" Clarissa called out, motioning the hobbit to come over to join their converstation.
"Lotheric, this is Fred, my friend, and Fred, Lotheric"
Fred presentsed his hand and said, "A pleasure to meet you." Looking over at Clarissa he continued, "But what does this have to do with the farmers?"
Lotheric replied by saying, "I hear you've been having some problems with them. I was telling Clarissa here that we are near Eketta lands. Halflings were never fondly seen by that clan. Excuse me, but what is that on your face?"
"I have egg on my face... in a different way then usual. The farmer and his sons threatened to skin me alive if his daughter lost to Clarissa. I am still not making the connection between Lotherick and this situation I am afraid. They were not upset with me as far as I could tell."
Lotheric frowned, pursing his lip as if in thought.
"I have no connection beyond that of a fellow traveller and a man who would see justice done. Farmer Gillum, he's the one you're speaking of. He's a bully and a lout - but he's rich and he has many kinsmen in these parts. Your travels for many leagues in any direction would be hampered or endangered if you should fall afoul of him."
Looking toward Clarissa and then to Fred, he asked, "You'll have to both decide how much winning is worth to you. What do you say then?" he asked of both Clarissa and Fred.
Clarissa was silent, thinking, a disturbed look on her face. "Danger be damned, I won't let such a fine horse fall to such men, I want to compete, and win, that is.." Clarissa hesitated, realizing that she did indeed hadn't yet won; feeling a little upset at herself for thinking that she was too confident in winning. "...that is... If I even do win," she added rather meekly.
Fred still seemed a little confused by this whole conversation. He mumbled that perhaps a distraction would be in order. Turning to Clarissa he asked: "What horse?"
"That horse!" Clarissa exclaimed, pointing toward a magnificiant horse corraled nearby. "His name is Windreaver, isn't he beautiful!" She continued to look at the beautiful roan stallion. A horse fit for a king.
"It goes to the winner of the most beautiful maiden contest, there are some farmers that wish it to go to a local girl here, so they may use Windreaver in their plow fields! That is why they threatened you; they think I may win this contest and steal their precious beast of burden. I just can't let them do that. Phooey on their threats! I want to win, and am going to enter."
Clarissa looked at Fred and back to Lotheric, feeling foolish for a moment, but still determined.
Fred stopped to catch his breath. "Clarissa, they said you had to lose, they said they'd skin me alive if you won. And probably you too...."
Clarissa stopped, her expression frozen then one slowly turning to anger. It was those farmers! How mean and dirty! "
"Fred, it is ok, no one is going to hurt you, or me..." She glanced at the horse... "Or that horse!"
I'll help you as best I can," Lotheric added, revealing to be what looked like a short sword or long knife beneath his tunic. "But let us hope that it does not come to that. Now, what is our plan?"
Fred left them to their schemes while he went about trying to find another egg.
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