Bree

Bill Ferny and the Squint-Eyed Southerner.

These are names that I have heard in passing as I venture the markets here in Bree, neither spoken kindly of.

She was sitting on her bed in a house...in a house which wasn't her own one. She had her room there and a warm bed in it with a good company. What else would she need?
She filled a mug with some red wine, took a sip of it and opened her diary again...after a long time.

A/N: Feedback welcome, thanks for reading and enjoy!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Alex could feel eyes on his back.

A/N: Hello! If you're reading this, I'm looking for feedback, critique and comments on storywriting, like pace, tone, enjoyment. I haven't written in a long time and it's been more than a year since I'd done something for LotRO RP, and decided to pen up a multi-part story on this character's current plotline, so that I can get back into the habit of writing and improve my storytelling skills.

Any feedback I get is very very appreciated! It would help me a lot towards getting back into the flow of things!

The pages are spotted here and there with tears, and the handwriting shakes in places.

Dear Ma, Pa, and dearest brother (who I hope knows I love 'im even as much as I teases 'im),

I am so sorry, Ma. I barely don't even know how to start. Oh Pa, you and him had been pals for so long. I am so sorry to have to write this.

Your friend, and my master, Nadvald of the Lonely Mountain, who escaped the dragon, is dead.

I've never liked Bree. It's years since I've been in this town. A town of cheap ale, sellswords and corruption. I'm still weak, my body is beaten and bruised, bloody and broken. I need to find my Kinsmen. I need to send word to the Blue Mountains.

Lord Veinbolt lives, and he shall return.

His mug mug struck the table as he set it down, soon following with a rumbling laugh. Skunkwood raised his fist to brush away the tears his fit of laughter brought him, Applewood had a sort of quiet laugh as he sat down on the chair his head tilted as he looked down his boot.

((A letter delivered to Tirmegil, by a stranger looking for him around Bree))

Tirmegil,

An injured woman, we do not know her name, rode into our settlement earlier today, all she said was your name, that you are her husband, and that you reside in Bree. She has now sunk into a deep sleep, under the care of our healers. Please come to Ost Guruth, as she will need help going on to Bree

Frideric the Elder

Ottho inspected his future investment for another time, caressing every inch with his fingers. The petulant purchaser was going at it for some twenty minutes, and Gib Heathstraw was at the end of his limit. "She isn't going to turn into gold if you keep touching her, Mr Hobbs. Pay up the price or walk away. " Ottho took his hands from the merchandise to speak to her owner. "She is not the looker you promised, Gib. A few cracks and wrinkles that weren't brought up when we spoke before.