Gone four years, and it already seems, every face that I see, is unknown to me. I can't let it be, once a town full of glee, but it seems all that's good, is now gone!
'round any corner, you pick the one - A brigand or killer, or something not fun, is waiting about just take take all your stuff, get in your pants, or spill all your guts!
Take it from anyone, take it from me, it wasn't like this in the past, don't you see? All these killers, and brigands, and men from the sea, they get what they want, for free!
Now don't get me started on the other end, Oh, now you've done it, you've done it my friend! Don't say the word 'noble' or anyone here reprimands; They have just as much dirt on their hands!
And with killers, comes mercs, and with them comes more killers; an endless circle of violence and tempers, the watch is spread thin and the locals ain't here just for fun!
Oh, one more thing, then the next thing that follows, why are there elves coming out of their hollows? To talk down their noses at all of Bree-land's simple folk?
You can't walk a step without fearing some trap, from these wannabe rangers with noses in maps, with a tankard in hand, bragging about things we don't understand; sometimes in a language that's utterly foreign to here!
And one other thing, is the 'threat of Angmar', why should I care about something so far? Not only in distance, but I also mean in the past! I don't know why these trends seem to last.
Oh, but there certainly is one another, one that up until now, I've failed to cover, but haven't forgotten, oh no, they are here you see. People that wander 'bout, armed to the teeth, with an army behind them - Can you believe? Down in Bree-land, what business do they have here?
The threat is not here, but they drag it with them, scrape off their boots in our homes and our inns, and claim that they're better, because they're some kind of high born!
Gondorian nobles, assassins and then, the guard goes through captains much faster than men! Brigands, pickpockets, someone swiped my locket! husband was stabbed, and my uncle got nabbed! You can't walk ten paces without glancing back, or you might end getting a surprise attack! There are more kidnappings, than people are born, tearing down houses and burnt fiields of corn! I must say, that today, I'd rather stay over in Combe.
I strongly prefer my little life over in Combe.
