Annúminas

Tywerd reached the shire in the sunrise . Its small size, relative lack of importance, and brave and resilient Hobbit population amazed Tywerd . More importantly, the Shire was guarded and protected by the Dúnedain Rangers , who watched the borders and kept out intruders. The only strangers to enter the Shire were the Dwarves travelling on the Great Road that ran through the Shire to and from their mines in the Blue Mountains, and the occasional Elves on their way to the Grey Havens.
 

As Tywerd left bree , darkness fell upon the fields of Bree-land . Tywerd made it to the southern bree-fields and decided to camp nearby . He searched his surroundings for wood , then made campfire with the woods he have found .  He lied down near the campfire , It was a place that could not have easily been spotted . But he heard noises coming through the ruins . He quickly got up and put out the fire . He whispered  " Quiet , Leaf ! " .

Tywerd entered the prancing pony inn at bree-town . He looked around the Inn for a brief moment , adjusted his sword attached to his belt and walked to the table at the far corner of the inn where 3 hooded man was sitting . Tywerd approached the table , Took off his sword with its sheath and put it in the table . He raised his two fingers to call for Barliman Butterbur , He asked for an ale as he sat next to the hooded man . 
 

Finally the letter she had been waiting for and also dreading slightly had arrived, she quickly skimmed over it and noted the name at the bottom, worry now took her as she reread the details.

Addressed to Filrean Gwathir,

Your letter for Captain Tarmagiel has found its way upon myself, to which this cause has now become a matter most serious.  Your course of action is close to being of an insubordinate nature, though we are not of the military strength we once were you are to be held accountable for such. 

Third Age 2998, The Sunken City of Annúminas

I'll sit back no more she thought as she put pen to paper, this has gone on for long enough.  I'll not sit idle and watch my kinsmen, my mentor, ride into battle without me. All those years I have spent under the guiding hand of Amlarad for what? To sit and sew, to cook?