(( Written on a neatly-cut piece of parchment, rolled around a thin shaft of birch-wood and held together with a leather cord, dyed red, knotted and woven down the length. ))
Dearest Mother, beloved Father, treasured Brother,
By fortuitious circumstance, a companion of mine has made plans to return to the Golden Wood, and offered to carry with her a missive of mine. Hoping this letter reaches you, for I desperately wish her a safe journey. I beg that you offer what comforts you may, and please, good Brother, do not take offense; I assure you she is trustworthy of my company.
I apologize deeply for the untimeliness of my correspondences. The roads, as I am sure you have heard, have grown wild of late, and it is rare enough to find one willing and able to take letters into Lorien. So dangerous, indeed, that I fear I would not be able to return for some years hence, were my studies complete. Dear Brother, please do not worry yourself; Bree-town is quite safe, and I have never been put at the forefront of harm, nor shall I seek it on the Road past the Edge of the Wild. As that is the case, and I will be here for some time, I may say that, for the next two years at least (so I predict), you may be able to send messages to me; please address them to The Red-Headed Elf (Cesistya) in the Prancing Pony, Bree, c/o Barliman Butterbur (Proprietor). I am sure, thusly noted, the message will find me.
My studies have progressed, though the turn they have taken is an odd one, as it often is in towns of Men. My last missive spoke of my studies in Lindon; from there I stayed, for a time, in the area of Buckland, in the Shire, which is populated entirely by Hobbits. They are an odd people, but a good one. You would like them, Mother, for they are of the land and they tend it well. A simple folk, but prone to rumour and jest, yet their manners are quite good. I was a stranger to their lands (they are not overly fond of the Big People, as they call us) yet they allowed me lodging in exchange for my knowledge. I shall think fondly of my time there, as fondly as I do my years studying under Lord Elrond. Being so near, I perhaps shall visit once or twice before departing. Here now, I write to you from Bree-town, which is some few days' ride East of the borders of the Shire. It is a town of Men and Hobbits both, though one does see the occasional Dwarf and Elf upon the Road. The libraries here are not what I wish they were, and the history-keeping of Men in these parts is lacking. Much of the lore is unspoken, or tainted with bias; it is only in some books preserved from the Northern Kingdoms do I find the writing of wiser hands. I am not unhappy; the way Men keep themselves here, both in their manners and the way they preserve them, is worthy of note and study. The eclectic culture of this singular land lends it a unique dynamism; I am kept fully upon my toes, as it is said.
I am sure you would wish to know of my adventures of late, though my pen lingers upon the parchment; dear Brother, I do not mean to worry you, yet I fear I would antagonize you far worse were I to say nothing. Whilst I am quite safe in Bree (few indeed take note of me), it is a sad state of affairs that many here engage in unpleasantness with others. I have had to mend many a wound as a result of conflict, an opportunity I do not relish in spite of my acceptance of it. Quite recently, a young Hobbit-maiden has found herself the target of foul people. She has an array of protectors, but alas, this merely prolongs the fighting. Fortunately I am not alone in supplying aid; no less than three others with healing skill have stepped forth, and I am honoured to be among them. It is an odd thing, for although there are town guardians (known locally as the Watch), they appear few and far between, and are rarely seen when such altercations take place. It saddens me to see such violence, yet, this chaos is the way of Men. I have not the wisdom to resolve this, and I fear it shall continue long after my studies here are complete.
Dearest Mother, I simply must pen some words about the wildlife I have encountered. My last missive spoke of the wonderful sea-plants and sea-creatures, the like of which I had never seen, and I confess an eagerness to examine again. As my studies brought me East into the Shire, so did the land simply burst with life. There are rivers aplenty come down from Erid Luin and Hithaeglir and gentle rolling hills which shape them into clear brooks and streams, and infuse life into the land. The creatures who live here, the Hobbits of whom I have written, tend the land as skillful as any, and much care and love. The grass is quite green and very soft on my feet, and the fields they tend provide bountiful harvests. As they have a strong... cultural predilection for consumption, there are harvest festivals nearly every time of the year; strawberrying, blackberrying, blueberrying, appleing, and delightful leaves and carrots and tea. Oddly, for a land with so many wonderful rivers, few among Hobbits (and fewer still among the well-to-do families) care for boats or swimming, and so fish is a rarity; quite a change for me, having just come from Lindon. The earth here is rich and joyous and tended with honour and care; you would like it here, Mother. There is even a forest to the east of the land; not with the breadth of Lorien, but there is still an age to it... a great age, the like of which I have not felt since Fangorn. A curious man tends it... I say 'man' but I know not what he is... he calls himself Tom Bombadil, if you have heard the name. Lord Elrond spoke of him, and Lord Cirdan also. Of those whom I have not the experience to quantify or qualify, he is foremost; yet I say, the Old Forest that is his residence feels more like home than any other wood I have visited this side of the Mountains.
Bree-land is quite a place of activity, which is to be expected given its location; beyond the three nearby towns built into and about the Hill, there are no settlements for many leagues. That, and being built at the crossroads of the Old North-South Road, and the Great East Road, mean many travelers of all sorts come here, and a great deal of news comes along. I dare not hypothesize on what news I have heard, suffice it to say, the roads are not safe for traveling. I shall remain here for now, and when my studies are complete, if the roads are still foul, I shall make for the valley of Imladris once more. Indeed... I shall do so if things get worse, if only for safety. Unless tidings change, this will complete my Journey; I shall set out again only if the lands (and under them) I have passed by become more conducive to travel and study.
Until I am able to write again, this missive bears all the love in my heart for you, my good Family. Not a sun or star lofts into the sky without my thoughts returning to the Golden Wood, and to those whom I love that remain there. Tender Mother, I long for your gentle embrace; I have felt cold without it. Good Father, your strong hand has always brought me courage, and I am weak so far from you. My blessed Brother, ever you have cared for me, and not a thousand Ages of this world could suffice to pay you my gratitude. I miss you all terribly, and long to see you once more.
All my love,
For every remains,
Yours truly,
Cesistya
