there is great evil that resides in the lone-lands these days. Orcs, goblins and many sorts of foul beasts linger there unchecked. My friend the elf Berethalion of Mirkwood made me aware of this presence. We have done a few quests so far for the patrons of the forsaken inn (a fitting name for such a dire location), and are looking foreward to reclaiming weathertop and rebuilding the tower of Amon Sul bringing it to the greatness of old. But I fear there is a power far greater than I lurking amongst the ruins, haunting my dreams. I hear talk of black riders, blacker and thicker than anything seen before, riding to and fro scouring the land of shire looking for a half-ling by the name of Baggins. Strange tales have been told about the going ons of shire folk of late, reaching as far as archet. Tales of the adventurous hobbit Bilbo and his vanishing into thin air, of his nephew and heir frodo selling bag-end and setting off with three other hobbits. Though it seems Baggins had left some time ago according to Fredegar Bolger, the brave hobbit who, after the attack on crickhollow by the black riders, confessed that they had indeed been gone for some time now. No new tidings of late of the fate of the band of four. But my heart tells me I shall hear of them soon, for ill or for good. I pray to God for the latter. Look at me, i’ve gone off on a tangent. I’d better get some rest here at the prancing pony with my friend Berethalion so we can meet up with our mutual friend Denfare of Rohan and make our trek back to the lone-lands to reclaim it for the free peoples of middle earth!

there is great evil that resides in the lone-lands these days. Orcs, goblins and many sorts of foul beasts linger there unchecked. My friend the elf Berethalion of Mirkwood made me aware of this presence. We have done a few quests so far for the patrons of the forsaken inn (a fitting name for such a dire location), and are looking foreward to reclaiming weathertop and rebuilding the tower of Amon Sul bringing it to the greatness of old. But I fear there is a power far greater than I lurking amongst the ruins, haunting my dreams. I hear talk of black riders, blacker and thicker than anything seen before, riding to and fro scouring the land of shire looking for a half-ling by the name of Baggins. Strange tales have been told about the going ons of shire folk of late, reaching as far as archet. Tales of the adventurous hobbit Bilbo and his vanishing into thin air, of his nephew and heir frodo selling bag-end and setting off with three other hobbits. Though it seems Baggins had left some time ago according to Fredegar Bolger, the brave hobbit who, after the attack on crickhollow by the black riders, confessed that they had indeed been gone for some time now. No new tidings of late of the fate of the band of four. But my heart tells me I shall hear of them soon, for ill or for good. I pray to God for the latter. Look at me, i’ve gone off on a tangent. I’d better get some rest here at the prancing pony with my friend Berethalion so we can meet up with our mutual friend Denfare of Rohan and make our trek back to the lone-lands to reclaim it for the free peoples of middle earth!