Since J.R.R. Tolkien intended for the lore and history of Middle Earth to continue beyond his own works, I have decided to step into the world he so thoroughly described and tell a tale of my own.
Enjoy!
Out From Bree
The Tale of the Brothers Hamel & Bernus
Out From Bree
The Tale of the Brothers Hamel & Bernus
Part One
It had been a long while, quite long, since the town of Bree had bustled with visitors. Not since the roaming dwarves had deserted the Hills of Evendium to the north (as it turned out they did not possess any such treasure as dwarves would deem worthy of their effort). And not since tales had spread like cobwebs over Middle Earth of the curious goings on in the Old Forest on the town’s western edge. And, of course, very few, fewer each year in fact, were coming and going from the Shire beyond the Old Forest.
The town of Bree had its purpose, and all long-term
residents within its walls knew it well and were proud to serve it. Travelers
would enter at one end of town weary, hungry, tired and in need of provisions,
and would leave out the other end satisfied, rested, and a little fatter for
the next leg of their journey. But too few now were found to be enjoying Bree’s
hospitality. Yes, without the welcomed traffic of passers-through, life had slowed
much in Bree. This dainty trickle of travelers had the town’s folk feeling much
like an old dog waiting through long days on the porch for its master, watching
for any sign of movement off down the road, and unsure of how it ought to busy
itself in the meanwhile.
This week, however, was the last week of June, and even in
slow times all of Bree knew that July was a month of promise. First there were,
naturally, the varied summer travelers, summer being the gentlest time of year
to make one’s way across the fair places of Middle Earth. Rangers, too, seemed
to be especially on the move in the summer months, and while they weren’t any
too social, they did require room and board while passing through.
Then there were the small groups of young men making their
pilgrimage north out of the smaller outlying villages of Gondor. As was still
the custom in some of the more “traditional” villages, it was a rite of passage
for a tween to make his own journey north to the old fortress of Fornost to pay
homage to the long-lost capital of Men, which lie one hundred Numenorean miles
north of Bree.
And finally, there were those remaining friends and kindred
kin of hobbits who would still make their way along to the Shire each year to
celebrate Midsummer’s Day. It was this crowd which seemed to brighten Bree
beyond any other. Perhaps their cheer was owed to the anticipation of a grand
hobbit party, for to those who knew of hobbits (much of the world in those days
was still ignorant of their existence) no greater celebration could be had than
that which was hosted by the Shirefolk.
Aside from their gardens, hobbits have long prided
themselves on their merry gatherings. The halflings’ masterfully brewed ale was
never in short supply. Their food was so plentiful that it seemed their bowls
were without bottoms. Then there were the presents, which were passed around
more freely than ever would be found at a party of men, or certainly of dwarves.
And the pipe weed! Well, the pipe weed was shared and shared alike by all who could
pack a pipe (and by any who could not, for that matter!)
It was just such a party that, in the year 2897 of the Third
Age, brought a wizard through the gates of Bree.
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