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Green billowing grass, babbling brooks, and the open gates of Bree mark a special time in Middle Earth: Spring. Hobbit everywhere could roll in their donkey-drawn carts, carrying loads of potatoes, fireworks, and the finest of ales from the Green Dragon in the hopes of spending a picnic out in the fields to enjoy the bright, golden sun kissing the hills of the Shire.
Oh, to be a hobbit basking in the sun once more.
Like a happy pet in the yard, lying carelessly in the sunshine, hobbits lived a good life out there in the West, wondering not of the evils that awaited on the other side of Rivendell. Beyond the land of the elves, an area already out of the scope of a hobbit's eyeline, there were true terrors of man, mixing with the powerful evils of magic and lore. No hobbits would dare to cross—especially on foot—to the lands of the large ones, lest they had no choice in the matter.
Alas, only brave Frodo and Sam (accompanied by Merry and Pippin), would stand the trials of Middle Earth, encouraged by their wisest wizard friend and a fellowship of comrades eager to aid in their quest.