Disclaimer: I do not own the world of middle earth or any of the characters it contains. I do however own the characters I created for this story.

Unwelcome.

As a red sun rose high in the sky a hooded figure silently walked the streets of Bree. He walked with a purpose about him, he knew exactly where he wanted to be. He was drawn towards the sound of people, the hustle and bustle of a typical bar. After surveying the area he saw the one sign he was looking for. The Prancing Pony.

The figures dark brown boots made no sound as they passed over the soft mud. But still the sound of footsteps could be heard all about him. The figures clothes were worn you could clearly tell he was a traveller.

His dark green jacket hung down to just above his knees; open at the front it revealed a black shirt thick and sturdy. Around his neck hung a single jewel, emerald green it shone when the light bounced of its majestic glass.

He wore a belt around his waste the clasp had the shape of a leaf. But this was no ordinary leaf. There where only eight of these broaches in existence. Under the jacket to the back, sat two straight edged blades, also engraved with leaves and may patterns.

Also in his hand was an objected covered with cloth He carried the object with care in his right hand. The steps of the inn creaked as he made his way towards the door. His eyes darted about taking in everything about the place as he approached.

He could hear, and make out several people conversations but stopped, it was none of his business and he did not want to intrude. Just before reaching the door he quickly stepped to the side.

The door swung open, and a tall man came stumbling out, tripping over his own feet he feel down the front stairs and lay on his back.

"I warn you sir, you have worn out your welcome here. Do not return." The voice came from inside.

It was the voice of a man who had authority. He did not raise his voice, because he never had to. This man was who the hooded figure was looking for. Smiling under the shadow of his hood, he stepped through the door just as the other turned and walked away.

He turned and walked to the back of the common house, making no sound. No one had even seen him come in, no one was aware of his presence.

The common house had a soft yellow glow to it, thanks mostly to the large fire on the right hand side. All the benches and bar tables were made of wood. They seemed old and frail, yet they took the weight of many a large man.

The people in the bar were all pleasant enough, none of them seemed to notice the stranger watching them, analysing them. He kept his eyes on the man who had thrown out the drunk. He smiled and laughed with his customers, cleaning the steel ale cups as he walked about, joking with them and serving.

He seemed more like a friend than a bartender. The hooded figure sat back, listening and waiting.