At the Sign of the Prancing Pony

The small region of the Bree-land is perhaps all that remains of the vanished kingdoms of Eriador, a little island of civilization in the midst of a great deserted wilderness. The area takes its name from its chief village, the town of Bree. The great mound of Bree-hill shelters its houses from the cold north wind since time immemorial, there where two ancient roads meet. The Greenway comes up through Dunland and Tharbad from the gap of Rohan. The East road - The Road, really - is even older. It runs from the furthest east to the shores of the Sea.   Like the Shire, Bree is a safe haven for its denizens and travelers alike, despite the many threats that surround it. These days though, only Dwarves come up regularly along the East Road, and the Greenway sees even less traffic. But Bree endures.   The other three villages - the farming village of Staddle, Combe to the east and Archet in the Chetwood - see fewer visitors than Bree (and that's how they like it). Villagers come to Bree to bring goods to market, to trade with the wandering Dwarf-smiths and to drink in its famous inn, The Prancing Pony.   The Men of Bree tell stories of their ancestors, but if there is any truth left in those old tales, not even the Wise know, for they have been here for a long time even as Elves measure the passing years.