Bíld son of Bóurr to Maddoct son of Haddoct, warm and affectionate greeting.
I begin this letter at, of all places, the very place I wrote to you during our first trip east. I sit on a cut log at the very same firepit where I dried myself following our waterfall adventure, again warming damp feet by the glowing coals and my hair in the sun. It has turned out Miss Liffey frequents this site as well, and though I do not know if she was the first to strike it, at least some of the firewood that we burned and replenished was cut by her. This revelation delights me and makes me wonder what other companions I have at this camp, separated only by time, not space.
I braved the cave again during my morning wash to implement a scheme my honor-sister and I devised, as the lack of treasure on our first expedition was such a disappointment: we installed some, by draining an ale-bottle I brought and restoppering it with some gifts for a future adventurer inside. My contributions were a small agate and a note that proceeded thus, in Elvish script:
To my unmet friend greeting! — On a fine day upon the cusp of the autumn equinox, Bíld, Bóurr's son, sat under Amon Sûl and contemplated the beauties of this lonely land. By the vapors of this bottle may you share the toast I made to its prosperous someday; pray, when you read this, face the west and tell me if it has come.
A little whimsical it may be — perhaps extremely whimsical — but the words were true to my nature and my heart.
Other than by the installation of this treasure and the slight change in the season, the Weather Hills and particularly this place are nearly unchanged. The chief difference in my experience is that I am now in the seat Motgrouk had.
I have been thinking of him and his wishes, and myself and my purpose, much on this trip, especially since we arrived at and stayed, I for the first time, at the place called the Forsaken Inn. Many as the amusements have been on this journey, such as the stunning sunrise we observed from Weathertop the next day, I remember that I am not voyaging for pleasure but for knowledge, or perhaps wisdom, or perhaps whichever of those I can get, in whatever quantity.
I do not remember if I explained to you that my curiosity is not for any common healing lore, though certainly any such I receive from the Elves shall be a treasure beyond price. But it is specifically the wounded soul (heart, and mind) that I desire to understand and, if it is possible, heal. Whatever scraps they are willing to give a Dwarf I will hoard and bring back to you in Bree-land; there, or perhaps during our journey together to Thorin's Hall, I hope you will teach me everything you know of mind-scars, 'cues', destructive coping, and anything else of which you can think, and help me to weld this lore together into a greater working whole.
I do not know if it is my path to be a healer at all, even a healer-of-hearts; when I compare my conduct to yours and observe the steady resilience of your calm, kindness, and patient goodwill, especially in all the recent chaos, I feel comparatively brittle-tempered, judgmental, and selfish. Nor do I know if it is my path to be a keeper of lore, songs, and stories, as my uncle-in-affection wished; after all, how many dwarrows would ever listen to lessons given by one as irregular as I?? — But by our people this feels to me healing so needed, and lore so needed, that I am compelled to at least try to become its student, that someday perhaps I lay one stone in the advancement of that art.
Is that good enough?
My mind has been mainly occupied with such things, as not much has actually happened on our trip, something for which I am most grateful. We rode east; encountered the Inn, ate suspect meats, and did not order the local specialty, 'Swill'; slept, set off, climbed and climbed and climbed the famous hill, where we saw the sun turn the sky from lapis to coral to shocking pink beryl and then to citrine, yellow love-stone, then scattered electrum and gold; climbed down, made camp, drank, sang, and played.
We did also meet at the haunted inn the ghost of First Mate Cinnamon Scarletbeard, lady pirate as voluptuous as she is deadly; but that is a tale for another time, and anyway you must already know everything there is to know of alluring pirates, so what can I possibly write?
What I had ought to say is that I had a conversation with Arlis about you and me. I urge you not to be afraid on reading this, for I think I successfully made her understand that there is absolutely no cause to terrorize you and that your conduct has in every way been gentlemanly and appropriate. It is true that she is harsh and unflinching when it is called for, but she is not cruel, and if it is not called for, she will not harm you; and I am sure that, now knowing how precious a friend you are to me, she would hesitate regardless, knowing what quantities of tears I would shed if anything ill ever befell you.
So please, I beg, keep yourself well and safe.
So faithfully I remain,
Your fortunate and perhaps even worthy,
Bíld.
