Wandering

Lissi wasn't sure where she would go. Bree was not a good option, since nearly everyone she knew and loved was there. Her presence would place them in danger.

Too much. Too much death around her.

The tall, muscular woman put a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes as she looked into the sky, watching intently.  Her tonuge protuded slightly from her mouth as she concentrated on the object in the sky that she was watching float on the wind.  She quickly put her hand back down to grab the spool of twine that an invisible gust of air threatened to rip it out of her strong grip.

                    Laughter booms over the lake side all of sudden and Briannon looks over her shoulder as kneding dough for pies with blackberries they picked on the way. Birchald was standing in knee deep water of the lake, with pride as raising his catch, a 15 pounds heavy and large trout, for her to see it.

It has been a long time since I didn't went back to Bree, long time walking trough the lifeless and silent roads of The Lone Lands. I miss the evergreen plains and the forest that spread its woods to everyplace. So one day i went back to Bree, and heard after days the noise of the horses, the chant of the bards, the propaganda of the merchants, the blades crushing in the forge... all that combination of sounds, something that I usually heard before, are nothing more than noise... one that is really disgusting now.

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).