Out From Bree: Part One

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

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.