Prancing Pony

Night fell upon Bree and there was an icy chill in the air. Though Winter was fading for Spring there came snow down upon the quiet town, the folk were all preparing to sleep and two girls who seemed out of place walked the streets of Bree. The girls were of flaxen hair, taller than the Bree-folk, and they had blue eyes. They wore casual tunics that were well cared for, no stains could be seen upon it and they were kept neat.

MossFelt looked at Iccarus sternly as he rose from the bed at the back of the Prancing Pony. She knew his strength was low and he would rely much on her for the time being. MossFelt attempted to calm her heated mind but the words seemed to rush from her tightened lips,"I wish you would wait until you are stronger. A mere child could knock you over in this state Iccarus." 

Bree, maybe this was not so great idea to settle here where eastern practices are so new to this folk. Book of Pleasing, that set up practice of companions and entertainers in Gondor, is largely unknown here. Someone called Maedlyn a wench last night, such disgrace! I can only comfort my little songbird they are ignorant fools, not knowing of what is meaning of our practice of Pleasing. 

The small dwarven company, put off by the facilities of the Forsaken Inn, decided to return to Bree and the Prancing Pony. Having caught some nice catfish in a small pond on the way, they approached the gate late in the evening.

A short tale of the dealings with strange folk in the lands of Men between the mountains of Eriador, and also a celebration of the simple joys of life as seen from a minor company of dwarves (or "dwarrows" if you like).