Home Is Where
We Make Our Fire

Not quite spring, in Bree. A cloaked figure steps out of the cold into the light of the Prancing Pony — and from that hearth an errand unfolds across all of Middle-earth: the deeps of Moria, the halls of Rivendell, the plains of Rohan, the White City, and at last the grey ships of the Havens. This is the archive of that journey — who she is, where she has walked, and everyone the road gave her and took away.