Will soon get some info' up to run a bit of RP for the trip to Bree for Áski Adisson, Vidar son of Flar, Homnir and Kelda, daughter of Kolbeinn.
To RP your links, backstory, the travels... and get into the game.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:31, Sun 05 Dec 2021.

Word - and silver coins! - came from Bree, with a very large order for top quality items to build forges, and for tools used during blacksmithing and such work.
Both Erebor, mainly, and Dale - still a lucrative order for them - had a bit under two years to make all this and transport it to the Spring Fair in Bree-land, in 2965.

Thus a merchant-caravan was prepared, with many mules to carry the boxes, crates, bushels of prods and pincers, the anvils, two teams of four mules for the two gigantic bellows - nearly as big as the ones under the Mountain!
Guards, of course, but with the many Barding and Dwarven merchants coming along, bandits should be detered.

As light late-winter snow falls on your heads, the caravan that set out from Erebor to Dale, where it picked up the Mannish merchants and delivery-men, you leave the Lake, heading around to the West and the North, to move up with Mirkwood on your left-West-hand, and reach the foothills of the Grey Mountains.
You are to move west, between Mirkwood and the Mountains, heading for the Anduin Vales, where you will move South to then head West again after the Old Ford, across the Misty Mountains.

You pull your cloaks tight, secure your hoods, and off you go, trudging along for this long trek.
You look around, to see who you will be spending this many weeks with.

It's good to be back on he road, and he lamented that it had taken him this long to be back out, but he has spent the time since the Battle of the Five Armies to formulate a plan, to take back his ancestral home.

Homnir looked around, seeing the great caravan assembled, and he was delighted to see friendly faces, especially among dwarven kind. He stood taller than most dwarves, and his equipment shone, as if it too was anticipating this journey. He was proud of his kind, though few looking at him would be able to tell that just from his appearance, as his stern look covered his thoughts. Erebor had been kind to him, but now it's time to seek more, and achieve greater things.

Áski spread out his maps for the caravan-master. "We've two months' journey to the Old Ford," he said, tracing a route through the Grey Mountain Narrows and down Anduin's East Vales, "and another month's to Bree-land." A tap on the High Pass, through the Trollshaws, and onward along the East Road. "That'll put us in Bree a fortnight ahead of the Spring Festival, assuming the weather holds and we've no mishaps. If not, we'll be pressed to arrive on-time and in good order."

Vidar made his way to the gathering point, clad in the armor of the Iron Hills.  Heavy mail and a shield and mattock slung across his back, with a short sword hanging next to the hunting knife on his left hip.  His sturdy helm resting lightly on his head.  Emerald eyes observing the gathering caravan from within a craggy face.  His broad and heavily muscled frame making way for himself amongst the throng.

As Áski plans the trip, and imagines you will arrive a fortnight ahead of the fair, she can share with the others, some of whom might not know this, that you will most probably be staying at the Dwarf-house, in Bree. A place run by a Dwarven family, to store goods, and with rooms for Dwarven travelers and merchants.

Homnir spots Vidar, and a smile cracks his stern demeanor "Greetings Vidar, son of Flar, it's good to see you joining this venture, and a pleasure to have your trusted Mattock on our side." Homnir has never really talked about his own ancestry, and while most humans might not think much of it, it's a glaring thing to dwarves, but he always hoped that his own deeds will have them ignore that question.

With the approach of Vidar and Homnir, Áski waved them over to the map-table. "Good morrow, cousins. Looking forward to our coming stroll?" The raven on his shoulder croaked amiably. "Homnir and Vidar... ever with a snack for Old Mág!" Áski grinned at the old bird and shook his head "Already putting the touch on my kinsmen, eh Mág? Shameless." He gestured at the company of Men arriving from the south. "Now the Dale-folk are here, we'll be on our way soon. Remind me to introduce you to my counterpart in King Bard's court... Kelda of Kolbeinn's house."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:04, Mon 06 Dec 2021.

Barding wagons gathered and halted; soon men and women from Dale were caring for their draft horses or seeing to their load.  In short order one did separate from her kin and approached the trio with a even, steady pace and a warm smile.  She offered a slight bow to Aski in greeting before speaking, "Well met, Aski Adisson.  I am bid inform you that my people are all arrived and eager to see the other side of the Misty Mountains.  Once the animals a watered we will be ready to depart should you wish to press further before the sun sets."

If Men seem young to Durin's folk then the woman especially for she had not yet seen two score Summers.  But no hint of youthful eagerness or uncertainty showed from her countenance though this must surely be the furthest she had yet traveled from her home.  Instead she stood at ease amongst the Dwarves, and seemed to regard the coming months of travel as nothing more than a short stroll.

"Greetings Homnir, Aski son of Adi.". He rumbles in his deep bass voice, as he offers Mäg a tidbit of smoked sweetmeat.  "It will be good to walk with you again Homnir.". He rumbles, then addresses Aski.  "How are we provisioned with guards, besides myself, and what points along the way do you think most dangerous?". He asks.  He did not address the woman, for her business was with Aski and this was not the time for idle pleasantries.

Homnir did nod at the woman, when she introduced herself. He's lived long enough to know that while the lives of Man are much shorter, it is this short life that makes them work harder to build something of a legacy, and this one did seem courteous. "This is good to be walk with you again Vidar, and you Aski, it's been a while. And greetings to you as well, Kelda, may the fortunes light our way, and may the blood of the enemy be spilled."

Áski knows that there should be guards enough.
Mainly due to the simple fact that a lot of goods come from smiths, and are big and heavy - and valuable! - so there are numerous smiths and their assistants coming along. Sturdy folk, in their prime, with good weapons and armor.
Also, the Barding merchants have hired a half a dozen from their Archer Guild as guards.

You do spend several weeks quite close to the Mirkwood - that seems to dark to you to be named Greenwood the Great - first moving North along its Eastern side, then passing alongside its Northern boundaries, before turning down the Westen forest eaves.

And all along you do feel watched.
Elven eyes most probably.

Áski directed his companions' gazes to the maps on the lead wagon's tailgate. "Goblins naturally remain a threat in the Narrows, Upper Vale, and High Pass," he said, indicating those three points in Wilderland, "but they're nay so bold after we broke their strength a generation ago." Pulling a map of Eriador from beneath, Áski continued. "Once across the Misty Mountains, we'll follow the Loudwater southwest to the Great East Road. The Trollshaws, 'twixt Loudwater and Hoarwell, presents the greatest danger," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "but Wolves oft-times roam 'tween the Last Bridge and Bree-land. Hill-men and Goblins too. Our numbers should discourage them, however."

The path suggested looks good to Homnir, who has trodden these paths before, and it saddened him a bit to recall that some of those he had travelled with before, are no more, and these two dwarves, as close as they were, hadn't been born when he took to these routes before.

"The Hill men, and Goblins are no match for our tactics, or numbers, and if they dare show their presence, we can crush them."

Áski nodded his agreement. "Hence the Trollshaws being the more dangerous passage. Wolves, Hill-men, and Goblins will attack stragglers but not a  well-ordered train. Even a single Troll might wreak considerable havoc before it can be brought down. More than one, and we risk the loss of wagons, horses, and fellow travelers."

The weeks pass, and things go as per Áski's plans and predictions.
Once you go North from Dale, you move West through the Narrows, then go back South along the river Anduin, the Great River.
Rolling plains, and small settlements of those Mannish people who follow Beorn.
Tall men, dressed in their heavy winter furs.

Then, the Old Ford, held by the Beornings, to whom you must pay the tithe.
But, well, you can stay and rest and be fed, and they do seem to keep the lands you just passed through clear of all threats.
Also, you see some Dwarves here too, who are working on the Old Forest Road. One day, soon, there will be a shorter way here-- South from Dale, along the river, then West through Mirkwood.

Then West, the slow trek up the mountains, still snowed in, but, here too Beornings patrol and keep the place safe.
The High Pass-- and then down again, down into Eregion, and into the shorter part of your trip to Bree.

It was midmorn and the train had begun its descent from High Pass when Kelda ambled up to join the group of Dwarves.  The view of the land spread out before them stirred her and she admitted all, "This is the farthest I have ever traveled from home.  I have stood atop the High Pass previously but never passed to this side of the Misty Mountains.  I was not yet born when your people reclaimed your home from the dragon Smaug.  Surely you have passed this way and back again many a time, yes?"

Homnir nods, a faint smile on his face, probably the most smile any of them has seen on his stern face. "Aye lass, I have crossed here many times, but not recently. This is now the short part of our journey, but not necessarily the safest part. These lands are mostly wild lands with little human activity, but that only gives rise to other creatures to settle i, but nothing we can't fend off." Unless Kelda objected to his use of the term before, and he will have used it on their journey, he will continue to do so.

Áski listened to his conversing companions whilst relaxing with a pipeful of Sweet Galenas. "I have made many a journey to Bree-land and the Shire since concluding my apprenticeship twenty-five years ago. Also took the 'long walk' from the Iron Hills to the Blue Mountains several times... a full year's round trip. Served as a guide for those of my folk who chose to leave Thorin's Halls for the Kingdom Under The Mountain."

The Beornings at the High Pass had warned of heightened orish activity, and to be on the lookout.
But, as you move on down, and either get your first glimpse of Eriador, like Kelda, or have been here before, like Homnir, it is a breathtaking view.

Once you reach the mountain's foot, and pass the Loudwater River, you move through lands that give you a hint as to what "other creatures" Homnir was referring to: for you are in the Trollshaws.
The road is almost swallowed by a rough, rocky landscape, broken only by thick patches of woodland.
You easily spot the numerous caverns that dot the stony landscape. That is the source of the land’s name.
It is wise to never stray from the road.

But things go well, and you reach the Hoarwell River, with its "Last Bridge", and then keep on traveling, tired but relieved, to Bree

You pass a gate on the East side of town.
A gate in a-- wooden wall? The Dwarves do not understand: there are hills all around, surely there has to be stone to make a real wall.

And you enter town, passing through the The East Row, towards the center.
This is the newest part of Bree, yet the houses here are built using old stone, some even obviously ancient.
Yes, you spy part of a statue of an old Mannish king used as the top of a doorway.
And that small house over there, has a very big and antique gargoyle, used as a rain gutter!

You make your way towards the Green.

Vidar took a deep breath at the top of high pass, gazing down the long road below.  Then off toward the Iron Hills.  He had not been here in a half score of years, and as he gazed in the direction of the Iron Hills, his mind wandered for a moment to that first March, and those he would not see again.  That last flowering of youth, just before becoming an adult.  He had been determined to follow Dain, even and in Dains' footsteps, and at 32 had managed to make a place for himself in that March.  Soon though, he was back in the present, fully alert to his surroundings.  He responded to Keldas' question.  "It has been a half score of years since I was this way last.  The first time through here led to the Battle of Five Armies."  More wary now as they took the first steps down the Pass, his eyes often scanning the caves on either side of the road.
   He shakes his head at the human "Wall". So much good stone around, and they waste effort on wood.  It may work for a small handful of bandits, but it was no serious impediment to a determined force.  Perhaps the Inn would have something worth drinking when he got there.

Homnir gives a pat on Vidar's back when he sees his reaction to the "wall". "I had the same reaction years ago, but for many years it seemed to be enough, and so they've grown lax. Men do not think too far ahead, and they forget lessons we keep alive, but they are good folk."

"Hmph.". Vidar snorts.  "Good folk.  Pressed by short year, and driven to do now without regard to what comes later.". He rumbles.  "No worse than others, perhaps.  Better than Elves.  They burn bright and fast, and what they make passes too quick.". He shakes his head once, puzzled and melonicholic for their fate.  "Can't even make a friend of them.  by the time you know one, they're in the winter of their life.". He shrugs his broad shoulders.  "Pah!". "Long journeys on old roads bring too many ghosts.  I'll see what they have for a drink once we're set-up.".
This message was last edited by the player at 12:29, Wed 08 Dec 2021.

Having moved through the East Row, you change areas and enter the Old-town - just to the West.
Old-town is, as one may surmise, isthe oldest part of Bree, rising above the Road on the lower slopes of the Hill.
The houses here all have windows looking west and are made from stone.
Some stand two or even three storeys tall.
The tallest are the home of crafters – weavers, dyers, leather-workers – and have workshops on the ground floor.
Below these buildings, you see cellar doors-- but all fancy, and freshly painted.
And small people coming in and out of them!

Hobbits.

You will soon learn that in this district, Hobbits live in cellars below big houses: they are the Cellar-hobbits!

Finally, you come to the famed Bree-well.
The best-known landmark in Old-town: the town well, sunk deep into the hillside.

Opposite the well stands the notable house you are looking for: the Dwarf-house!
The Dwarves of the caravan peel away from the Bardings, and can go and rest their ponies, unpack their goods, find lodging-- greeted by the family of Dwarves who run this caravan resting place.

The Bardings move on furthest West, to the inn, the Prancing Pony, where they can do the same: unpack, stable the ponies, find lodging.

Of course, Vidar can set of to the inn himself, for a nice drink.

As the Dwarf-house, the merchants, the guards, and the traveling-companions Homnir became closer too during the long voyage from Erebor, all unpack, and put their gear down in the rooms they share.
There is food and water for all.
Homnir sees some have started going out to explore the town, the inn, on this eve of the Spring Fair's opening.
If Homnir wants, he sees he can remain here and help open crates... not the nicest choice to relax after a long journey, though.