''Bree''

It is unusual for a Hobbit to stray too far from the comforts of his home, even more unusual is to do so and enjoy it. A week ago I was clanking mugs in friendship with some Big Folk after supper, and now I find myself behind this soiled parchment, alone with ale, and curious. While the past has gifted me with many moments of solitude, it still remains quite simple to find the comfort in familiarity.

A strange city, Bree is. It is most unusual in nature, but nonetheless welcoming on my first visit in nearly two decades. As a farmer I've become accustomed to the odor of mud and horse droppings, but still found myself a bit disturbed by the overwhelming and lingering stench of these throughout this city of the Big Folk. The buildings are tall, and the clanging of steel and roaring of voices seem to make the city never sleep.

Dearest Aldor,

I apologize for the gap between this missive and the last, but several occurrences have set my nerves on edge. Even now, a full day after these events, my hand still shakes as I write to you. In previous letters, you may recall that I made the acquaintance of a Gondorian soldier named Tothrandir. Well... I suppose I shall have to start from the beginning. Nothing else makes sense.