Late Winter, 2958 of the Third Age.
Bleak was the night, rain had fell hard on that day. The night watchman of the West Gate in Bree took shelter in his hut, not expecting any fools to brave the weather and reach the gate. Wrong he was, as there was one who walked the path east of the Shire into Bree, one who was not seen until he was at the wooden doors.
"Ho there, good man." Said a rugged man to the sleeping guard in the hut. He was dressed in battered leather and sporting a long beard with specks of grey hair. Drenched was he, though unphased by it.
"Heavens! Who are you? What business have you here?" Barked the guard, still with sleep in his eyes.
"Business you say? Nay, no business here. For business requires or creates coin. I am unable to 'have business'. Nor do I wish to." Replied the man, puffing on some rather odd smelling pipeweed.
The guard coughed at the smell. His nose turned up to both the smell and the man's perculiar attitude. "Bah! You might speak with a fair tone but I know why you're here! Beggar, vagrant I name you!" He spat.
The man stood there for some moments, looking closely into the guard's eyes whilst puffing on his crude pipe. "Are thou paid to be rude to visitors? Hmm? Nay, you should be more encouraging to those whom enter this village. I hear it is like a graveyard here some days. Maybe that is down to you, my good fellow"
The guard snivelled at the man, at last giving into him. Allowed to enter he was, but a name was required to be given, by the Mayor's order.
"What is your name, Hermit? Speak swiftly and begone!"
Though swift was the opposite action. The man seemed too busy pulling some entanglement out from his beard. "Oh, a bramble! How odd, though when one talks the forest road that is expected" He chuckled.
The guard stood lazily over the ledger, wanting to get back to sleep. "Eh? Bramble, you say? And your first name is?"
The tramp stood with an eyebrow raised. Though he did not falter. "Henaver. Henaver Bramble. Hmm, yes."
And entry was given to the man, who then walked straight through the cobbled street. Many looked on at him through their windows, though he did not notice them and continued to smoke and hum a happy tune.
