Prologue: Rumours in Bree
The common room of the The Prancing Pony was crowded that evening. Travellers from every corner of Eriador filled the benches, while the smell of pipe-weed and roasting meat drifted through the air.
I sat quietly near the hearth, content to listen rather than speak.
At a nearby table, two Elves spoke in low voices. Most of the room paid them little attention, but their words soon caught my ear.
"...surely it is only a tale," said one.
