Bree

I thought I knew what music was. A lively jig at the Green Dragon, a rousing chorus of the Oldfurlong song. Growing up in Buckland, there had always been jolly hobbit tunes for any occasion. That was music, and it was all I believed any hobbit ear could want.

Until now.

Bree was, by all accounts, a moderately sized town. Larger than Combe and Straddle combined, but not a great city. It was still the largest town Morliniel had ever been in and she was perfectly fine considering it a city. She’d spent weeks, off and on, exploring the streets, shops, and getting to know a few of the locals. There were tucked away gardens, and little places to sit away from the main bustle of the thoroughfare. It was easy to get lost between the buildings, even for a girl well versed in tracking her path.

The journey from Snowbourn was arduous on account of the two stab wounds to her abdomen, a farewell gift her Step Father had arranged for her.  She was not sure if it was to see an end to her, or to her ability to have children.