The Shire

The Land of Faerie

"Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold."

I awoke to find Estarfin absent, although his cloak was placed over me. Parnard, however, was sitting on a nearby rock, resting his chin on his hand and looking rather thoughtful. 

“We will travel soon, I believe. At least this time I do not wear iron chains,” he said upon hearing my movement.

We rode on. I had expected the further north we travelled the colder it would become. To some extent that was true, but it snowed less and the sky was more of a watery pale blue-grey. Even such little light was welcome. As we drew nearer to Bree we were passed on the road by two travelling groups. One consisted of cozily garbed Dwarves, who made a brief but polite acknowledgment to us, as we did to them. 

He sat at his old, carved wooden desk, a small elderly Hobbit snuggled in amongst bone-easing cushions. Pen in hand, he had been scribbling away in his neatest manner, carefully dipping his feathered pen (his father's, handed down to him,) in the ink pot, and blotted it so that it would not drip. He was a careful sort of Hobbit. He liked his home to be tidy, but lived in.