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Credit: Tuckborough dot net.
Bree
Geography: Quaint village in Eriador near the Shire, nestled on the crossroads of the Great East Road and the Greenway (Royal Road linking the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor). Situated on the western side of Bree-hill. A deep dike and a hedge form a semi-circular fence enclosing the village against the hill. Gates can be found on the western and southern sides of the hedge, which remain closed and guarded at night.
Contains approximately one hundred stone houses, set fairly close together by the hillside, though there are smaller dwellings further up the slopes. Roads and pathways winding through the village are basic and narrow, and used mainly by horses and pedestrians.
Wood is the main fuel of source in Bree (and throughout Middle-earth), though oil and candles are widely used for illumination. Note: 'Faggot' is the Arda-wide term for a small log of wood used in fires and NOT a homophobic nickname for a gentleman of the pink persuasion. Therefore, if your kindly host offers you one or two to heat up your bedroom, DO NOT get your hopes up and/or do NOT launch into a detailed explanation justifying both your sexual orientation and your views on multiple partners. This will only confuse and frighten your host, and possibly lead to your immediate expulsion from Bree.
Natives: Bree is the only place in Arda where humans and hobbits dwell together. Humans dwell in the stone houses and hobbits live mainly in smaller houses or Smials burrowed into hillside, though both races work harmoniously together in the running of the village and its pub, smithies, stables, etc.
Additional information: Given Bree's location on the busiest main road in Eriador, it has become a thriving community, mainly due to the custom received from travellers passing through on their way to or from various destinations between Rivendell further east, and the Grey Havens to the west. Since the happy conclusion of the recent war, visitors from the southern regions of Middle-earth have also notably increased as messengers, tradesmen and civilian traffic now utilise the North-South Road in greater numbers, enjoying the new safety in venturing further afield without being accosted by thieves and/or bloodthirsty enemies.
Being a medieval-style village, it is only fair to warn potential tourists that Bree has absolutely no lavatories, and that the phenomena of plumbing is as familiar to the locals as a lunar landing. That means no en-suite facilities at the Prancing Pony, folks, and not so much as a public toilet in sight. So if you're one of those not-so-chirpy types who needs a power shower to wake themselves up in the morning, forget it. At the most, you'll have the use of a (communal) wooden tub that will be delivered to your chambers on request (please ask for the spare if yours still bears tell-tale scum-marks from the previous occupant).
Hot water for bathing is also only on request as it must be collected at the nearby river, heated, then lugged upstairs by general dogsbody, Nob the hobbit. For any other morning ablutions, please use the washbowl and stingy pitcher of (ice-cold) water supplied on the dresser, compliments of the management.
As for answering the call of nature, the METB can assure tourists that each room comes complete with its own chamber pot, which - for propriety's sake - may be found sitting discreetly under the bed (but you'd better hope the chambermaid remembered to clean it after the departure of the previous guest - probably a smelly, shifty Ranger-type).
Places of Interest: The Prancing Pony is Bree's most popular pub (probably because it's the only pub in the village) and boasts some of the best ale in Arda. Rumour has it that it was enchanted by a crotchety old wizard who happened to find himself in one of the few good moods of his life at the time, something the landlord, Barliman Butterbur, is eternally relieved about. Gastronauts would do well not to expect fine dining as the pub itself offers rather basic fare, but it is hearty and delicious. If it's still not to your liking, bring your own rations as there's no other possibility of a decent meal for miles, and insulting the cook will only get you a clobbering from an angry hobbit (using a very heavy skillet) and eviction by an affronted landlord.
Things to do: Drinking. Smoking. Eating. Dancing on tables. People-watching in the main bar (a particularly satisfying pastime given the sheer variety of visitors to the village).
Looking to explore Bree's history? Visit the monument to the men and hobbits who died in the Battle of Bree, and marvel at the story of how their comrades finally routed the marauding band of brigands and ruffians with little more than half a dozen pewter tankards and a few well-aimed apples (using a technique commonly referred to as the 'Gamgee Flick'). Or join the locals over a pint and frown in disapproval at the tale of the Rowdy Ranger who hurled abuse at their respectable innkeeper! Listen in awe to the tale of the Disappearing Hobbit who fell off a table and was never seen again! Shiver in horror when you hear of the terrifying Nazgûl, a group of vicious delinquents in long black hoodies who trashed the Prancing Pony's hobbit accommodations (probably because the beds were too small to sleep in comfortably) and roamed through the streets afterwards, shrieking like frustrated insomniacs for the rest of the night.
Fancy exploring the surrounding areas? Then why not visit the equally quaint villages of Archet (on the southwestern edge of the Chetwood), Combe (located in a deep valley east of Bree) or Staddle (on the southeastern side of Bree-hill)?
If you are of the opinion that 'when you've seen one quaint village, you've seen them all', and you're looking for something a little more exciting, we suggest you take a leisurely stroll to Chetwood just outside Bree. The Great East Road runs through its southern edge, so it's relatively well travelled. But be warned! It's ridden with robbers (and no doubt Rangers too) lurking in wait to spring upon wealthy travellers and tourists! If this doesn't put you off (or you're a swaggering idiot of a body-builder who thinks they're no threat to you), then by all means, go for it. But please note that the woods are home to massive, mutant wolves and other unspeakable beasties who might view your overdeveloped 'guns' as more of a super-sized snack than an actual threat to their lives.
Having made it through the woods without incident (or having successfully managed to subdue your attackers and/or slay the local fauna and still have all limbs attached) then take a carefree wander over to the east side and discover the fabulous Midgewater Marshes, home to vast stretches of reeking, mucky water and a gazillion-plus man-eating insects - though the METB would recommend you take a tank or three of insect repellent and full body armour if you want to return alive.
Things to avoid: Vicious delinquents in long black hoodies. Insulting hobbits (Bree is infested with over-protective Rangers under strict orders to maim and/or kill anyone who offends and/or harms the little folk, and they will carry out said orders with relish). All roads and public footpaths. Why? Because there are no sewers in Bree! Not a one. Which means the streets are literally awash with pee and strewn with poo. Human, hobbit, horsey and many, many more disgusting, malodorous varieties. Have a nice day!
Recommended travel accompaniments: Wellington boots/galoshes/gumboots (for traversing the filth-ridden streets). Indoor shoes. Portaloo. Reams and reams of antibacterial wipes, and absolutely gallons of antibacterial soap (never trust a handshake in Bree. They've been known to lead to violent bouts of gastric flu). Gas mask. Industrial strength insect repellent (and lots of it).
METB Rating: Two stars (if one remains within the village proper).
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