Bree

As the sun nestled gently below the western horizon, splaying an obtuse array of luminous orange and purple across the sky, a dark figure slipped out from behind the stables of the Prancing Pony. Adjusting his ragged mustard hood with calloused hands, the man stayed a steady path to the south. There was nothing too inconspicuous about the cloaked figure, in fact, he was quite ordinary, aside from an incessant need to keep the identifiably rugged outlines of his features smothered in darkness.

To the House of Thane Freothulaf, son of Firmon

It was after the market a week ago that I noticed some of my works were beginning to be missing from my stock. I hadn't noticed until the raid upon the lumber-camp some few days ago. A group of brigands encamped in the Chetwood came upon us like a pack of mongrels. I grabbed my axe and charged out the door, dazed in the midst of it while I struggled to realize what was happening. A man in leather had come upon me, I jabbed my elbow into his gut and hit him with the blunt point of my axe.

While i write this the storm is above me for last half of a day, without any source that could take away boredom of waiting under the bloody rock of the ruin till the flood of the sky passes i use this old journal of someone who is very mopey about the woman he loved, then he cheated on her cause he was drunk (like that never happened to me), wich made him take next caravan to nowhere to escape the womans husband.

I have been tasked with finding information on the palantirs in the land of men called “Bree-land”. I do not want to go, but I must. It is not really a matter worth discussing. I have been advised to wear a hood around the Men, as they do not see the eldar often, as so it may cause disruption. I am not fond of being the centre of attention, so I will heed this advice, to save me some trouble.

Fingers caressed the surface of the pages, as if they might absorb details missed by her eyes, even after multiple readings. The paper in this section of the book was slightly rippled, and the tome now opened automatically to it.

While we rode on more warily after being waylaid by the Orc grunts that night by the border of Gravenwood, we kept pressing on as our hearts still burned for adventure. Perhaps even more so now that we had tasted its sweet taste and the rush. 'Twas not quite the same as patrolling the Mark with fellow Riders, battling whatever danger had passed the borders into fair Rohan and engaging them in petty skirmishes. Nay, there was a sense of excitement differing from it now that we were alone and a long way from home, me and Sigefaest.

Once again I find myself quill in hand. Since last I wrote I've found a peaceful area in Bree-land to call home away from home, though that is a story in itself. More than likely no other shall gaze upon these pages, but still I wish to pen my recollections. For myself and later years. Perhaps for some offspring of mine to read, should I yet be blessed with some.