Prologue

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Azor strode through Bree,  stooping his shoulders and wincing occasionally as the wind and rain buffeted his tanned, weather-beaten face.
The streets were eerily empty and some fear seemed to lay heavy on the town, barely a living thing stirring as the dwarf made his way to the Prancing pony. Although he was aware of eyes watching him warily, some unfriendly and evil, some merely fearful.
His sharp blue eyes glanced round suspiciously, but for now he felt certain that  he would only be watchedSeeing the inn a short walk in front of him he  briefly ran over the instructions of Gandalf his old friend.
' Meet me at the Prancing Pony' The old wizard had said ' if I am not there find a hobbit going by the name of Mr Underhill and escort him safely to Rivendall, but be careful the 9 riders have ridden out of Mordor, they hunt for the ring'.
  Now as Azor approached the inn he felt like he had arrived to late....

Azor DreadBane Where stories live. Discover now