14th Wintring, Bree-reckoning
I have arrived in Bree at last, many months it has taken me to barter passage from the Long Lake. Word of the Dwarves troubles have left my nights with only stuggles and troubled sleep. It was fathers dream that our cultures become closer with the coming troubles of all folk, and now with his passing his hopes had have fallen to me to complete.
Master Ulvoin has spoken of his cousins whom like amongst the folk of 'Ered Luin' roughtly translated as 'Blue Moutains' if my words are still accurate. He spoke too of some Dwarf folk who scratch out livings amongst the men of Bree. Makes sense I suppose, none in the Long Lake could rival the craftsmanship of a Dwarf.
The cartsman whom delivered me to Bree spoke highly of 'The Prancing Pony', claiming it was the finest of Bree-lands Inn's. True enough the rooms stacked up the mans description, both gloomy AND damp. The Innkeep seems a fine fellow though, providing you pay your tab anyway, Barliman Butterbeer Butterburr He goes by the name of Barliman, a local of Bree.
The beverages are of poor quality compared to those of Esgaroth, enen even those which he claims to be 'Barlimans best'. Tastes like Bilgewater compared to the old mans homebrew if you ask me, but I cant speak for the tastes of the local drunkards.
