Bree

It was a sunny late summer afternoon as Ceonbura roamed the Bree market, her brow furrowed in deep thought. The tall, muscular woman was tackling a problem she had never had to face before. Her mind was muddling its way through ideas that slowly formed out of her imagination as she looked at the items displayed at the stalls, but she had no experience to know if they were right. This problem truly was new to her.

Khaki was the colour of Bree-land. Green, the colour for sleep or delusion, and beige yellows, dulled, sedately corrupted passions.

It was the type of place to lull those who stayed too long into a sense of trouble despite their luxury and wellbeing. People invented trouble here, and sometimes willed it into harmful reality. A side-effect of so much peace and, Ryheric figured, boredom.

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.