[Underneath one of Bíld's prettily-drawn filigrees is a drawing of a Man's body, the skeleton showing through an outline of flesh. The hand that rendered it is neither that of a skilled anatomist or pen-and-ink artist; it does, however, function as a reasonably clear schematic. The most attention and detail has been given to the long bones, which each have a measurement listed next to them. These measurements and notes indicating the joints — and four lines marking where bones were severed — are labeled in cirth, though still in Westron, perhaps because the creator is able to write them very small but still legibly.]
Entry the third.
I have completed the assigned practice. On one limb I attempted using a cleaver rather than a saw, and I was pleased to find that I am not so weak that I could not sever it in one strike; however, I think that the saw is best because my test seemed to indicate that a single heavy blow will tend to crush the bone as well. I cannot imagine that would be better for healing than quick and steady work with a saw, and my victim was not even struggling at the time.
I then attempted to glean a little more knowledge from the materials by opening him up and having a look inside, but I fear that my dallying over the past few days has allowed him to reach an advanced state of putrescence, and I could hardly make heads or knobs of what I was seeing. I sewed him back up, which I hope shall make him a little easier to handle for the undertaker. He is ready to be buried as soon as possible, though I would first like to make a request that is odd and perhaps a bit silly.
If it is not an insult to the customs of Men, I would like to attend the disposal of the body. It is true he is some ancient Man whose name we do not know; perhaps even his descendants have forgotten him, and certainly he has not been treated with loving kindness, dragged here like cargo by a criminal, though perhaps this was not the first time he was defiled, if his corpse did indeed walk the Barrow-downs before coming to us. But he was, or at least belonged, to a person, once, and if he has no family to mourn him, I would like to stand in for them, if only to apologize for how rudely I've treated him with your knives.
[Another filigree is drawn as a divider.]
I look forward to working more with Master Zeylheim and Maddoct of the Iron Hills. The latter I believe to be so far beyond my own skills that he may make me unnecessary to you, but as long as you do not find me too much underfoot, I would like to stay and learn from you both.
The arrival of my brother Seimurr in Bree has brought not only news that I am no longer required to return to the mountain immediately but also a fresh, plump purse. This being the case, and a larger space for the Soothery now beginning to seem necessary, I would like to make you the offer of canceling my weekly stipend. I am happy to continue working solely for education and safe harbor; I do not require a bed, but even just a spot on the rug near the fireplace. Though if this is amenable to you, I do ask you not to mention it to others, as I would not like my family to lose face.
[There's a hesitation here.]
I must now confess a deception and beg your pardon for it, though I know it is not an easy thing to forgive. Until my brother's arrival, I have been giving my father's name as Vald, which is an untruth. My father's name is in truth Bóurr, and henceforth I shall not lie about it. The reason for my dishonesty is difficult to explain, perhaps cannot be explained to Men. I can only assure you that I have been otherwise true; I am of the Lonely Mountain, son of a veteran of the Dimrill Dale, grandson of a burned dwarf.
If it is necessary for me to say more to regain your trust, I will say what I can, in person and in confidence.
[Instead of a pretty filigree, only a tired line is here drawn as a divider.]
I wish I could offer some insight into the condition of our patient Rue. What he says makes little sense to me, and what I say does not seem to earn his affection, though at least I have not yet been physically threatened. All I have learned of the situation is:
◆ Rue is pursued by "her", and "she" sees and hears all, especially in dreams and through the eyes of birds.
◆ The trouble seems to have begun when Rue learned something and had to flee from society. Something was "lost" and Rue now wants this thing that was lost back.
I do not understand it, though I have tried earnestly. My intuition at this point is that we may need to consult a healer more learned in ailments of the mind, perhaps one who also knows much of the influence of the Shadow, in case there is something more than madness at work.
If your knowledge has been taxed to its limit, and Master Maddoct's the same, then I think Rue requires us to seek out the more learned.
Perhaps among the Elves.
