Bree

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.

It has been very long since I last wrote down what has happened. Ever since an old expedition within Annuminas.
I suppose this would be a good moment to write again, as days grow darker. 
I am in Bree-land, at my camp in Ost Barandor. I've been in back in Bree for about two weeks now. Before that I was wandering along the road between Bree-land and the Trollshaws.
I miss the greatness of traveling, but I am stranded in Bree once more. Halbarad wants me to keep an eye on the Blackwold, apparently they have been increasing in activities once more.