Lands tame and safe?
Budding flowers and wavy grass…
Rolling hills, no mountains.
Buzzing marshes and big oaks…
Blue skies and open fields…
Sheep, cattle, even chickens!
…No goats.
What about bears? I see a woods, I must investigate.
Turns out there was a hedge afterall! A big hedge that wrapped around the town like a growing wall.
What town?
Bree.
As we first arrived, the bustling of many voices hit my ears like an unfamiliar din of unintelligible noise. After so long on the open road with naught but each other and the occasional bird and deer for company, the streets of this busy town were both welcoming and strange.
The people of these lands were shorter, less built, farmers and woodsmen are strong, yes. But they had not the blood of Beorn nor the seasoning of the North. Less wild were their faces, and more tame their clothing, plain colours, few wore anything that stood out from the cobble grey and woodsy browns of the houses surrounding them. So with that said we would have blended right in with the other scurrying travellers all incognito like if it were not for the fact Andri stood well over a head higher than the men and I… Well I doubt I could fit in any of the tight wash dresses the women were wearing.
Speaking of dresses! I made sure to bring one! Just one! My favourite dress, my only dress, but that doesn’t matter and what we wore wasn’t important.
We were set to purchase supplies from the market. Many stalls and tents dotted around a large fountain in the town centre. The fountain was built to resemble three boars, and from their mouths spurted water.
I watched as the fountain shot out clean water, deluging across the back of the stone boars like a never ending rainstorm. Rending the pool beneath with a constant splashing trickle.
It was unlike a river and unlike a lake. We had wells back home but not fountains like this. I was infatuated by its design.
The market was busy, and from it sold many things to eat and make. Wool, linens and cloth, but also produce such as eggs, milk, and even meat…
Meat…
I should have seen this coming, we are not in The Vales afterall, I admit at first it was queer, even upsetting in a way to see the carcasses of lamb and pork being hacked at by a fat man in an apron, to serve the meat to customers who would take it home to cook. I suppose it is the way of the wider world outside our home.
We eat fish, fish is from the river and the river grants us this fish. And we forage fruits, nuts, berries and greens from the forest. Mushrooms too!
I wonder where the mushrooms are in these lands…
I was then quickly taken away from my musings and distracted by cousin Andri who found something even more interesting.
We snook off out of sight of the market, we paced up the wide road leading North, narrowly avoiding a horse and carriage. They would race down the road at a frightening speed here.
We came to a large building nestled beside a great hill. A warm glow of candle and hearth invited us through the open door… Into the thick of a merry crowd.
It was a tavern! And the say it is the best tavern in town!
It is like the Lodge back home, but less grand. Boards and benches placed haphazardly about the common room, hay strewn lazily to mask spillages. Tankards of stone and metal piled high behind the counter.
Served within were ales of simple make, no better than water
Though of course, this was not just a simple alehouse. This was the Prancing Pony!
Served also were stronger stouts from Dwarvish lands, in fact I took a liking to this particular brew, one of the only things I can stand from Dwarves, they make good beer.
Rich, flavourful beers were also served, stirred by delicate maidens. Stronger drinks too! Wines sweet, wines sour… Strong spirits made with some strange methods I knew not. I think it must be magic, bad magic though for they tasted horrible, just horrible!
On that night, I also learned a fair deal about the people in this busy, bustling town.
Men were farmers, foresters and some were crafters and smiths… Smiths worked with metals, like Dwarves but not as good.
Merchants too passed this way, and often stayed within this very roof, some claimed to sell mysterious potions that could heal all hurts. Others were more honest.
Oh! And how can I forget? Hobbits!
Upon first seeing one of these creatures, I mistook them for a lost child, for a tavern is no place for cubs that small I thought. But nay. He was older than I, much older yet looked youthful all the same. A short stature almost laughable if it were not for his many equally sized friends who all seemed rather fussed at my initial reaction, he stood up to my thigh and the poor fellow strained his head to view us.
I forgot what we talked about, but I learned that these hobbits live alongside the Men of this town, and that to the West lay a country populated by these small folk.
I wonder if I’ll ever see this Shire, or maybe dance with a hobbit!
I’m going to try and do both of these things!
The night went on and so us two boisterous cubs did what we did best! Talk, drink and drink some more!
…I would spend many more nights in this Prancing Pony tavern over the months, drinking with strange people and making stranger friends.
…But first, training.
Serious training.
That’s why I am here.
I hope my head clears because I’ve been told we start tomorrow.
