The wind blows like a mad Nazgul in the town of Bree this blustery day! Debris rolling across the town square reminds one of a Gondorian New Year. If we had electricity in the town of Bree, we would have lost it hours ago. But we do have a plentiful supply of whale blubber to burn in our lamps no matter what conditions we may face. There is no such thing as a combustible engine yet in Middle-Earth. I suppose we will have to blame the unusual weather on bovine flatulence!
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