An elf man steps into the Prancing Pony and sits on a barstool.

Butterbur walks up to him and smiles,"We don't get many elves here. What can I get you?"

"Wine please, whatever you have that's good," Ladrochan says.

Butterbur sets a glass of wine in front of the elf and says, "What brings you to Bree?"

"I'm on my way to Celondim to sail to the Uttermost West. How do you humans says it, I think my age is catching up to me."

"Age catching up to an elf? Aren't you folks supposed to be immortal?"

Ladrochan laughs, "We are but I saw something not long ago that makes me think it's time to leave."

"You begin to see things?"

"Not exactly. I had been working as the stable keeper in Rivendell. This wine is exceptional, it tastes like the elven wines I had in the Halls of Fire."

"It is elven," Butterbur says. "A woman named Limael makes it on the other side of the shire and some of the bottles eventually make it to us."

"I didn't know there was an elf vineyard this far west."

"I didn't know there were more than hers."

"Rivendell grows some grapes but they only have a small area for that," Ladrochan says. "Most of the elven wines come from Lothlorien."

"Given that the elves are starting to leave I suppose I'll never get to try any of them."

"It's a shame, the vintners of Lothlorien make the best wines in the world."

"Oh well," Butterbur says. "I'm more of a beer guy anyway. The dwarves and hobbits both provide many fine examples beer and ale. What was it that made you think it was time to move on?"

"While I was brushing down one of the horses nearby Lord Elasser's steed and a chicken ran up. I took notice of it because we don't keep chickens in the Rivendell valley."

"You think you were seeing a chicken that wasn't really there?"

"No I'm not delusional," Ladrochan says smiling. "The chicken stopped in front of the King's horse and stared at it. The horse looked down at the chicken and they two seemed as though they were having some kind of conversation."

"The animals were talking?"

"No, of course not. But just having that thought made me think I needed to go somewhere I could rest. What really got me was the chicken walked away with it's head hanging like it was depressed with what happened with the horse."

"You're right you need some rest," Butterbur says. "I'm glad you stopped in here for a drink before you sailed away."