The Prancing Pony

Drinking At the Pony

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XV - Joy and anger at The Prancing Pony

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Story

Repairing the damage from the rains and rodents, clearing the surroundings of the house of weeds, and leaving the windows open to air out the house had been Kennet's chores that morning. But just after lunch the young man had saddled Hawthorne again and set off for Bree.

XIII - Leaving the valley

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Story

Thorough Preparations for a Day Out

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Story

The sun beat down on Ceonbura as she sat outside the Prancing Pony, ticking tasks off of her mental to do list. She had brushed Aernyst and given him some good food. She had taken him to the farrier to get his shoes checked over to make sure they were not in need of repair. She had even begun packing items in her room for what she was going to take on the trip. As she sat under the hot summer sun, she knew there was something she had forgotten, probably due to the heat turning her brain to mush.

Unsettling News

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Diary

Saerias found me in my usual spot by the fountain, he had brought a bottle of Shire brandy to repay the one I had given him a day or so ago, and the gesture touched me. My opinion of this fellow fluctuates as each day passes. One minute he does something that makes me think there is more to him than meets the eye; more than just fence leaning and wandering, but then he acts in a way that makes me think him a ruffian. 

IV - A history to be discovered

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Story

Like every day for the last two weeks, Kennet went to Bree to take care of various matters. But the young man was not fooling himself: he went to find out if there was a response from Rivendell.

III - A dangerous journey

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Story

This was Kennet's first time at an assembly, and he found it fascinating. The place where the Merchant's Guild was meeting captured his attention at first, the hall of Bree-town Hall.

II - Not so easy

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Story

The smell of stew, burnt wood and tobacco smoke permeated the atmosphere, but without being overwhelming. The main room of The Prancing Pony was large enough that the twenty or so people who were there were not crammed together. There was nothing to set this night apart from any other night: no suspicious group of travelers, no performances by musicians present beyond the quiet tunes of local bard Owen, no fights or affronts that would force Barliman to intervene...

A letter to Mrs Hayward, c/o the Rosethorn Estate

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Story

Friend Wisterhya,

 

I trust you be well - it was an unexpected delight to speak once more last night, after so long.  Alas, I have recently been occupied with errands in the north, and so have been an infrequent guest of the Pony - with luck, I shall be present again soon.

 

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