An outsider in Bree

Bree-town was a very important location in both the original books and the films. Many events took place there.

In reality, though, Bree was only a small settlement. Clever, hardworking humans and kind, peaceable Hobbits lived there, with a total population of probably just over a thousand.

Of course, since it lay along a major road, displaced Dwarves often stayed in Bree for a day, carrying everything they owned.

Once rested, they would set out again for the Blue Mountains to seek the protection of Thorin Oakenshield. After all, the Dwarves Prince was doing quite well there.

All in all, it was a stable, peaceful place that had not faced a threat from darkness for hundreds of years.

Of course, that was only because someone was quietly paying the price behind the scenes.

Allen was walking along a street in Bree-town. Most of the houses were built from a mixture of stone and timber, giving the town a distinctly medieval European feel.

Even more telling than the houses were the roads. They were not particularly narrow, but they were made of dirt, and spring was a rainy season. They could easily become a muddy mess.

Allen trudged miserably through Bree's muddy streets, heading back to his lodgings at the Prancing Pony.

It was already evening, and Allen had just left the home of a slightly balding man with a large nose.

The man was Albert Drelly, Bree-town's "renowned" carrot enthusiast.

On his first day here, Allen had spotted the fellow leaning in his doorway, eating a carrot.

As it happened, he was also the cook in the household of Bree's lord. To satisfy his palate, Allen had been visiting him from time to time to discuss cooking. But why did Allen have so much time on his hands?

Yes, indeed. After bringing Allen to Bree, Gandalf had once again abandoned the young man and run off. He claimed he was gathering information, but nearly a month had passed.

Allen was helpless and could do nothing to stop him. He could hardly tell Gandalf that Thorin Oakenshield would definitely appear at the Prancing Pony on March 15.

Allen also knew he had set out too early. The journey across the Misty Mountains in particular had taken the Great Eagles only two days, carrying Allen and Gandalf from Carl Rock to Eriador.

Even after their swift journey to Bree-town, less than a month had passed. It had only been mid-February when they arrived.

After reaching town, the gray-robed old man had mounted the horse Allen bought and ridden off, leaving him behind. Allen could only wander around Bree-town alone, familiarizing himself with the surrounding area.

Yet when Allen stepped into the Prancing Pony out of the rain, his good friend Gandalf the Grey was already sitting at a table, drinking beer and watching him with a broad smile.

Gandalf was an old man with tremendous personal charm. Even after he had left Allen alone in Bree, Allen found it difficult to be truly angry with him.

The young human sat down opposite Gandalf and called to the serving girl. "Becky, bring me a mug of mead."

Allen preferred something a little sweet to beer.

The Prancing Pony, a property of the Butterbur family, was the largest tavern and inn in the area. All sorts of people gathered there, from every walk of life.

News traveled freely here. Many people came seeking information, including humans who had thrown in their lot with darkness.

Today, for instance, Allen recognized one at a glance. The ugly middle-aged man sitting by the window, with his sinister air, was an enemy spy.

Another man present was Old Bill, a well-known local thug in Bree-town. Over two meters tall, he looked ferocious, yet the moment he saw Allen, he fled the inn like a beaten dog.

Bree had indeed never been threatened by darkness, but that did not prevent the little town from breeding unpleasant people and evil deeds of its own.

On the afternoon of his fifth day in town, Allen had been wandering idly through the market, picking up a few things he liked along the way.

Old Bill, who had been watching Allen for some time, quietly followed him. He came up beside Allen and used his massive bulk to seize him, though Allen remained perfectly calm.

It was hardly surprising. Whenever Allen bought something in this little town, he casually brought out gold. Once wealth was on display, trouble was bound to follow.

Had Allen noticed? He had. At first, he had intended to strike immediately and cripple the fellow.

But as a seasoned fighter, he sensed no killing intent from the man. Old Bill had not drawn a weapon either, merely holding Allen captive with what seemed to him a laughable amount of strength.

Under the circumstances, Allen did not resist. Besides, he had been terribly bored lately. A little entertainment to break up the monotony would not hurt.

What puzzled Allen was whether he really looked that easy to bully. Was it because he treated everyone so politely?

Or had the apparent absence of weapons emboldened these people?

Allen did not want to carry a bow and sword on his back while strolling through the streets. Besides, Elven-style weapons often attracted attention.

That allowed people like Old Bill to think they had struck it lucky and found a clueless, wealthy mark.

Soon, Allen was taken to a dark corner where four or five hostile-looking men waited with weapons of various lengths in their hands.

Perhaps reassured by their numbers and weapons, Old Bill released Allen, shoved him into the group, and proceeded to demand money as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Allen showed no sign of panic. He reached beneath the cloak behind his back and calmly drew out a sword gleaming with cold light, as if performing a magic trick.

How could Allen possibly be without a weapon? He only had to spend Denars to buy one. As long as he had money, he effectively carried an entire arsenal of cold weapons with him.

The thugs surrounding Allen had no idea what had happened. They seemed to see only a flash of white light before the lamb awaiting slaughter transformed into a tiger baring its fangs.

While the thugs were still bewildered, Allen casually knocked their weapons from their hands with his sword and forced them to their knees.

Allen ignored their pleas for mercy and cut off their right thumbs as punishment.

That would deprive them of the means to do further harm.

Old Bill, who had brought Allen there, was dumbfounded. He knew he was done for. Before Allen could say or do anything, the hulking man dropped straight to his knees.

Allen showed him no courtesy either. He walked over, lashed a kick across his face, and strode away in high spirits.

Poor Old Bill not only lost consciousness from that kick, but also lost more than half his teeth.

Rumors about Allen soon began spreading through Bree-town. They claimed that the seemingly polite outsider staying at the Prancing Pony was actually a ruthless murderer, and that the townspeople ought to drive him out as soon as possible.

Allen paid no attention to the rumors, and the innkeeper at the Prancing Pony said nothing either. After all, Allen spent lavishly. He had not encountered such a generous guest in years.

In the days that followed, whenever Allen grew bored, he would seek out Old Bill to "practice his skills." Allen did not remember how many times he had done so, but Old Bill had probably lost every last tooth.

Soon, a new rumor spread through Bree-town. The town's notorious gang leader, Old Bill Ferny, had been targeted by the outsider staying at the Prancing Pony. Now he hid trembling in his ramshackle house every day, not even daring to step outside.

Yet today, the fellow had actually dared to appear at the Prancing Pony. Something must have been afoot, but Allen did not care.

Gandalf, however, had clearly learned what Allen had been doing during his absence as soon as he returned, judging by the smile on his face.

He joked, "Allen, I never imagined your fearsome reputation would spread throughout Bree in such a short time."

Allen knew at once that Gandalf was teasing him. He waved it off and asked quietly, "Gandalf, any news of Thorin?"

It was already March 15. If there was no news, Allen would have to consider whether his little butterfly wings had stirred things up again. If that had happened, he would also need to discuss their next move with Gandalf.

Gandalf nodded. "He should arrive tonight at the earliest, tomorrow night at the latest. When he does, let me handle the discussion. You can listen in."

Allen nodded in agreement. He was about to ask Gandalf about his trip when he noticed the wizard looking toward the entrance, so he turned to look as well.

A somewhat bedraggled Dwarves in a rain cloak entered the Prancing Pony. After making himself a little more presentable, he sat down at an empty table in the middle of the inn.

Although he had looked disheveled at first, there was nothing shabby about his equipment. He wore snug, practical clothes and carried a Dwarves sword.

He was now enjoying a smoke from a pipe of the kind Bree-town was famous for, a contented expression on his handsome, resolute face. This was Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarves Prince of Durin's Folk.

Allen was already preparing to get up and greet him, but Gandalf stopped him with a meaningful glance. Only after waiting a little while did Gandalf go over alone and sit down.

Interestingly, the spy by the window had begun to hesitate in his seat after Old Bill fled.

At first, he could not understand why Old Bill, who had demanded such a high price, had simply run away.

But he soon noticed Allen staring at him. Startled, he remembered the rumors circulating through town and slunk out of the Prancing Pony as well.

Thorin Oakenshield had also noticed the sinister man watching him earlier, but since there was only one of him, Thorin had merely been a little wary.

He did not want to cause trouble here. It might bring trouble upon the Dwarves and make them unwelcome in Bree-town.

With the sinister middle-aged man gone and Gandalf sitting down opposite him, however, he relaxed once more.

Allen sat at a nearby table, drinking his mead and listening carefully to their conversation.

There was no denying that Gandalf was an exceptionally persuasive speaker. In a very short time, he convinced Thorin Oakenshield, and the confusion and uncertainty in the Dwarf's eyes gradually gave way to longing.

Indeed, the displaced Dwarves of Durin's Folk desperately needed to return home, and Thorin Oakenshield was eager to reclaim his family's throne and wealth.

Still, as Allen listened, he could not shake the feeling that Gandalf had thoroughly talked Thorin Oakenshield around. Then he thought of himself and suddenly felt he was even worse off than the Dwarves Prince.

That was inevitable. Allen had an innate fondness for Gandalf, that respectable old man, which was perfectly natural.

Soon, Gandalf and Thorin began discussing the details: how to gather an army, how to retrieve the King's Jewel, and finally, the need for a burglar.

Thorin Oakenshield glanced toward Allen and asked Gandalf, "Is this the burglar you found for me?"

Indeed, Allen was dressed very much like a ranger, and Thorin Oakenshield had long since noticed his connection to Gandalf.

In particular, this human ranger had driven off the sinister man with nothing more than a look. That kept Thorin Oakenshield from underestimating the young human who had come over to join them.

"No, no, Thorin. He isn't a burglar. This is my friend Allen, from Wilderness Town."

Gandalf introduced Allen to Thorin Oakenshield, and Allen greeted the Dwarf with a slight nod.

Thorin Oakenshield frowned, seemingly considering something, then said, "I've never heard of that place."

Allen spoke then, his voice measured, neither servile nor overbearing.

"That's only natural. Middle-earth is vast, and Wilderness Town isn't famous. It's perfectly understandable that Thorin Oakenshield, grandson of Thrór and Son of Thráin, has never heard of it."

Thorin Oakenshield nodded, then turned his attention away from Allen and back to Gandalf. "Then who is your choice for the burglar?"

The Dwarves Prince was still more concerned about the expedition. If he could make use of a capable human ranger, he would simply offer him more payment.

"I've already found someone. We'll gather in Hobbiton, in the Shire, in a little over a month. I'll leave a mark on his door."

Thorin Oakenshield was reasonably satisfied with Gandalf's answer. Allen's presence in particular had given the Dwarves high expectations for the burglar.

Allen knew they had finished discussing the details. He returned to his own table and asked Becky to bring him a deluxe meal.

He could not help it. Everyone around him was eating, and it had made Allen hungry despite the meal he had already eaten that afternoon.

After eating and drinking their fill, the three returned to their respective rooms at the Prancing Pony for the night. The next day, they left Bree and set out on their own paths.

Allen knew that during the past month, Gandalf had most likely already visited Hobbiton and found Bilbo Baggins, whom he had been watching for a long time.

But Allen neither mentioned it nor asked. The two simply rode on, passing the Barrow-downs and traveling through the Old Forest before checking into the Green Dragon Inn under the eyes of the Hobbits.