Dearest Mother,
As I write this, I have truly settled within Eriador. I have found residence in Bree, in the town’s tavern called the Prancing Pony, a rustic establishment. Its ambience reminds me of the Mûmak and Keep back home. This living arrangement is only short term, until I find somewhere more permanent where I can work from.
The people here are an interesting folk, with names that seems to feature nature in some form. They have no central leader, such as a King, but rather each settlement is led by a mayor or similar, meaning they all run independently of each other. Bree-lander society seems to be largely focussed on farming, craft, and trade with other settlements, largely with the Hobbits across the Brandywine River and the Dwarves from the Blue Mountains beyond that. The Men of Bree I have become acquainted with here have good humour and are generally friendly people who are not looking for trouble. Though in my time here, I have met not just Bree-landers but people from across Eriador. One of note being a lady of the Lumi-väki, who call the frozen lands of Forochel their home. As the Arthedain King Arvedui discovered, they are a wise people, respected for adapting to the harshest environments.
The Halflings too, or Hobbits as they are more accurately known as, are even more curious still. Even with the Four Heroes who aided the Men of the West being forever immortalised in song and story in Gondor, I think they are still largely misunderstood by us. From what little I have gathered from the travelling troubadours that frequent the Prancing Pony, they are a happy folk hailing from the Shire, a land of rolling hills and woodlands teeming with life. They spend their days working the land, eating, drinking and being merry, living in homes built into the side of hills with circular doors. Though unassuming, they will stand up for what is right and fight tooth and nail to defend what is close to them, just as the Four Heroes did. These people recently experienced a time of great hardship, where ruffians and brigands laid waste the Shire, turning the peaceful land into a polluted nightmare. Though the recovery from this time has been long and challenging, they persevere, lifting their spirits through song and dance. I must visit these lands at some point whilst I am here and see the Shire for myself. They are also renowned for their tea, a hot beverage which I have become very accustomed to.
As I write this letter, I have returned from the town of Trestlebridge, a settlement on the on the border between Bree-land and the North-Downs overlooking the Cirith Núr chasm. The people who live here are the victim of frequent raids from small groups of Orcs that stalk the hills and woods beyond the walls. Though the Shadow is gone, the minions of evil remain, fighting amongst themselves for power and control. The town’s militia seems capable of fighting them however, and since the downfall of the Shadow, their raids are becoming less coordinated. The original plan was to travel here later, once I had a better understanding of Eriador itself, but a lead in my research led me here regardless.
Another matter has come to my attention that may be of interest to you. Upon my return from Trestlebridge, I become acquainted with a fellow Gondorian, a Captain who defended Cair Andros during the War, and later embarked on a campaign in to the black lands of Mordor, whilst in Bree-town. He has brought some of his soldiers north under the banner of the Order of the Hand of Númenor, with instruction from King Elessar to reclaim Annúminas. This is all the information I can really gather from these men for the meantime, though I have no reason to distrust a man of such reputation. Since Annúminas and Fornost Erain are places I have been planning to visit, I will travel with them to achieve our goals together. It is good to have found some allies here.
I miss home greatly. Although I am settled in these lands, whether I will truly be accepted amongst them I still cannot say. At least Maethoriel is here to accompany me on my journey. You will be happily to see that my writing with my left hand has become better, in no small part because of my work and research. Spending time at the Scholar’s Stair, Bree’s archive, has also been useful. Hough earlier than planned, the next time you hear from me, I will have news regarding what is happening in Annúminas and Fornost Erain. Though I may be restricted as a fighter, it is my hope that my knowledge can be of more use here.
Until my next letter finds you.
No aer i eneth Helcharon. Padrad mi i calad.
Thandanar, on the eighteenth day of Hithui in the 3019th year of the Third Age
