Dear Diary,
Today, the road was long and surprisingly lonely. I thought the world would be bursting with adventure, but so far it's mostly been trees and an occasional grumpy farmer leading a cow. My feet were sore after escaping the lone lands, but my spirit was high. But as it became dark, I decided to set my camp near the water. As I slept under the stars, it was cold, and I was shaking in my sleep,
Alas, I finally awoke and made some food as some people watched... I didn't know what, or why they were staring... guess they had never seen a river-hobbit out in these lands, or I was pretty. Either way, I packed up my things and finally continued my journey to Bree!
Upon entering, the town was even more chaotic than I imagined. The air was thick with the smell of pipe-weed and roasting meat. I found a room at the Prancing Pony, a cozy inn filled with laughter and song. I ordered a hearty stew (paid for with the last of my silver coins) and listened to the locals. Everyone seemed to know someone who's been to the Shire. My heart raced with excitement! Tomorrow, I would cross the border!
but my curiosity got the best of me when I wandered out for the night to explore the town... though I shouldn't have left the Prancing Pony so late. I was eager to see the town, to breathe in the atmosphere. I was walking down a dark alley, trying to find a quiet corner to sketch (my nana always encouraged my artistic tendencies, at least), that's when they jumped me. Three rough-looking men, their faces hidden in shadows. They demanded my money, and I, fool that I was at the time, resisted. They knocked me to the ground, snatched my bag, and disappeared into the night. Everything was gone. My money, my map, all my food, even my sketchbook! Thankfully, they didn't take my diary, tucked safely inside my cloak. I was shaken, bruised, and utterly destitute. So I spent the night huddled in a doorway, cold and terrified—my dream of the Shire feeling like a million miles away.
As dawn approached, I awoke to the sound of children laughing. A kind woman, a baker by the looks of her, found me shivering in the doorway. She offered me warm bread and a cup of watered-down ale. She listened to my story, her brow furrowed with sympathy. "Those ruffians are the bane of Bree," she sighed. "But don't let them steal your dream, lass. The Shire is just past the bridge next to Buckland." She pointed towards a gently sloping rise in the distance. "Follow the road west. You can't miss it. Tell them Bess sent you, if you need help. They are good folk there."
Strength flowed back into me with every bite of the bread. Bess's kindness ignited a small spark of hope in my heart. I straightened my cloak, wiped the dirt from my face, and started walking.
