Adventure. Action. Romance. Dragons!
Once, Gandalf hired a burglar, now he needs a scout! It was a simple task, nothing more than spying upon treacherous lands. But Safirah felt she was meant to do something more. Running away from home she followed...
Bree wasn't far from our village, it would take a fast horse an hour to reach the west gates. Father will be furious for certain but it will be a while before he finds out I'm gone. I marveled at my rebellious act, it felt...good, surprisingly. I can't believe I'm running away, or should I say chasing my chance of adventure?
'Faster, girl,' I gave Paddy a gentle squeeze and she galloped in the dark, cold wind gusted above the elms and ash, stars kindled pale gold up above burning yellow in deep velvet skies while the moon gleamed just above the tree-top behind me.
The Greenway crossing wasn't far and the wind is grey and cold with mist floating high above the tall grass. I must get to Bree ere the old man looses hope!
An hour past, torches flickered at a distance - the west gate. Bree's taverns are always busy at night, the taverns and busy inns never closed their doors for business but the Bree-folks have grown doubtful of outsiders and so they seal the gates when the night fall.
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Bree has about hundred stone houses for Big-folks and half as many for the half ones --- the Bree-hobbits. Father happened to be friends with old Mr. Butterbur --- the innkeeper of The Prancing Pony, he sure to send words to my father if he sees me strolling the streets.
I don't like Bree at all (as a place) its stables stink when the rain pours, the mud sticks on your boots so thick it would take you a day to clean scrape it off.
And during the morn, laughter and chatters breaks everywhere, strangers come and go and people always talk about odd news from here and there.
Father used to tell me Bree was his home once, until he grew tired of the noise and decided to buy a farm away from the muddle. I am grateful he did.
At last I reached the crossing, past by the river and into the winding road. I spurred to the gates with so much hope --- hope that I am not too late. I pulled the reins to ease my mare until the running faded to a trot and finally came to a walk.
And when I saw the golden rings round the lanterns hanging near the gates, I climbed down and walked pulling Paddy behind me.
'Who's there?' The sound of boots trudging in the wet ground grew louder; a man's voice came out of a slit from the wooden gate then two sunken dull onyx eyes peeked between the small rectangular window.
'It's me, Doromer, open the gate,' I demanded. Father and I deliver fresh vegetables and eggs in this town once a week, how could anyone not know me? Doromer opened the wooden gate with a grin. I stood waiting for a moment, pulled a canvas-made bag off my mare then hung it over my shoulder.
'Oi!? The stars are brighter tonight, eh? What brings you here, lass?' he greeted, opened the door and then pushed it close when I was in.
