Guess Who?

[Bombadil]

Indeed, tis a good story. Though it frustrated me a bit. Happy googling.

[camus]

"Long, lean, strange and laconic,"

[cameron]

Rodney Trotter

[barrie]

'Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills,
Who pens a few sheep in a gap of cloud.
Docking mangels, chipping the green skin
From the yellow bones with a half-witted grin'

[juliadebeauvoir]

R.S. Thomas: The Stones of the Field ?

[barrie]

Iago Prytherch from 'The Peasant' by (you got the author) R.S. Thomas.

[camus]

"Rodney Trotter"

Ha Ha, very close. Actually Old Bull Lee aka William Burroughs from "On the Road."

[juliadebeauvoir]

A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spun darkness for a wandering beam of sun. So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burnt behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us; coming to the woman first, hundreds of years ago, leaving the house, sealing all the windows; the rooms were darkened. He left it, left her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned in the Southern sky; sought the house, found it dropped beneath the Downs. "Safe, safe, safe," the pulse of the house beat gladly. "The Treasure yours."

[Bombadil]

Mine's given over I see.

Answer: Gimpel the Fool.

[barrie]

For a whole day my companion had rambled about the room with his chin upon his chest and his brows knitted, charging and recharging his pipe with the strongest black tobacco, and absolutely deaf to any of my questions or remarks. Fresh editions of every paper had been sent up by our news agent, only to be glanced over and tossed down into a corner. Yet, silent as he was, I knew perfectly well what it was over which he was brooding. There was but one problem before the public which could challenge his powers of analysis, and that was the singular disappearance of the favourite for the Wessex Cup, and the tragic murder of its trainer. When, therefore, he suddenly announced his intention of setting out for the scene of the drama, it was only what I had both expected and hoped for.

[David]

Am I allowed to use football metaphors here? If so, this must be an open goal you've given us here, Barrie, a mere tap-in.

It's Sherlock, isn't it. And, unless I am very much mistaken, this must be Silver Blaze.

[barrie]

Harrybelafonte my dear Whatnot.

Tea, Mrs Hudson!

[Bombadil]

Barrabas came to us by sea...