Fellowship of the Dice

Pipkin ambles over to the kite seller and for a few copper coins he buys himself a large blue kite. Wren and Varuthil join in as well getting themselves each one as well. With Borir and Aerth looking on the five find a nice open spot on the field and up go the kites. The weather is perfect for it, strong winds, not to gusty not to slow. You wander about with the kites in the air following the wind. Eventually more and more people come, and soon the sky is filled with kites, and the elves of Mirkwood can't help but feel like a whole flock of butterflies, like those that live among the canopy of the forest, are about. The ground is actually shaded in spots there are so many, hundreds or more. The growing number of people pushes you further west along the field little by little as you make room.

Finally Pipkin's kite slips from his hand and blows away west over the field and out toward the edge of the land that nears Mirkwood. Without thinking Pipkin cries out and gives chase...

"Oh bother," Pipkin says when the kite slips from his hand. Then he starts jogging over to the edge of the field to try and catch it before it blows away completely.

"Master Brandybuck! Watch your step, there's critters and holes in the meadow." Borir calls out and quickly follows after the hobbit. The dwarf is more concerned that the hobbit will fall down a hole or injury himself trying to fetch the kite than anything else. The stout legs of the dwarf hurries after Pipkin as fast as any dwarf could be.

Varuthil finds the sensation of trying to fly a kite odd. She is so serious that she rarely does anything for the sheer pleasure of it. She enjoys her scholarly work, but sees it as a mission. As she tries flying the kite, the expression on her face flickers back and forth between traces of pleasure as she does something simply for fun and stony frustration at her lack of skill with the kite. She looks up in alarm as Pipkin goes racing after the kite and Borir goes racing after the hobbit. She would follow herself, but she is pretty sure that she would simply get her own kite entangled with other people's if she did--and the dwarf seems a competent sort. "Master Brandybuck," she calls out, "do not fret too much! Surely, you can purchase another kite!"

"But it's my lucky kite!" Pipkin calls out. "The first kite I flew in the kite festival. And it's my favorite shade of blue." He keeps dashing after the string of the kite.

"Don't worry Borir," he adds. "I'm no stranger to avoiding gopher holes and rabbit holes while running through meadows."

Wren is so enthralled with flying his own kite that he barely notices the commotion that is Pipkin running after his now free kite. Wren chuckles a bit watching Borir chase after Pipkin, an event most certainly better seen than told in a story.

Glancing over at Varuthil, Wren's eyes follow the elves string up to the kite then looks to his own. "Come on Varuthil, clearly you can fly higher than that!" Knowing that their kites are at even height Wren thinks to himself, Hmm...perhaps I should risk a bit more string.

Varuthil says, "Hmph. I think I'm doing pretty well for someone who hasn't flown a kite before. And I don't want to get tangled up in someone else's line." Nonetheless, she rises to he challenge and as Wren lets out his kite line, she lets out hers as well.

Wren taunts Varuthil to try flying higher. The two wood elves suddenly are victims of a gust from the north, their kites, along with a dozen around them are battered about tangled up on one another and come crashing to the ground in a mess of lines. Some rip, some have their rib supports broken, its a disaster the likes no one has seen! (or so that's the reaction of some of the more emotional fliers).

Pipkin is chasing his kite, Borir giving chase to the Hobbit and Aerth, with nothing better to do, follows behind the dwarf a bit more slowly. He's heading that direction anyhow. Pipkin finally locates his kite, stuck in a small gorsebush, as Borir and Aerth come up behind him. The trio work to detangle the kite from the bushes and after a few minutes they hear shouts coming from the west (and not those from the kite disaster to the east).

The trio hears someone running, and shouts of "Help! Help!". A young boy about ten years old bursts out of the rushes ahead of them. As he spots them he runs towards the trio, waving his arms. Tears run down his cheeks. “Help! Please help! My father – his guards – they're going to kill him! We're going to Mirkwood and they're going to kill him! He told me to run! Find help! Help!” The Boys words tumble out in a terrified flood.

Borir huffs and breathes heavy as he rests near Pipkin and the hobbit's kites. "Well, that was my exercise for the month. Now Master Brandybuck, don't..." The dwarf pauses as he hears someone running towards them and cries for help.

As the young boy comes running out of the woods, the dwarf grumbles and mutters something under his breath. The dwarf who's imagined saying similar words before, takes off towards the boy as fast as his dwarven feet can carry.

"Calm down, child. Is it bandits?" The dwarf asks.

"They're going to kill him!" Pipkin exclaims. "We can't let that happen." Then he calms down when Borir speaks, allowing the boy a chance to reply to the dwarf's question.