His youngest son child to Bóurr Bíldul of Erebor greeting.
I write again from Thorin’s Hall, though I hoped that by now it would be from Bree-land. Yet our plans keep churning about, such that it seems I may never plant my feet solidly upon them. If I am yet in mountain when the decoration for the Solstice has begun I am like to actually weep, though thankfully I do not believe that will come to pass.
I am sad to say that what removed my need to travel ahead of my brothers was the unexpectedly sudden collapse of Master Yurri, the elderly Dwarf. Though we could hardly have been called intimates — I know Maurr was closer to him than I, and he may have written to you about the business already — it was of course very sad to lose him. We are losing many of our old veterans now; my heart breaks to think on it. And though I was honored to be among those at his side to make the crossing less lonely, and indeed would have been honored to be guard-of-the-dead again, these honors cost so much in sorrow that if I keep receiving them I may find myself bankrupt.
I am becoming practiced at mourning. I know not if you will smile or weep to read that — perhaps both — but for my part I declare it horrid.
The healer and Maurr stayed long enough to be sure his son endured the first days of mourning; though the pain must be terrible, he bears it stoically, a true Dwarf. They then departed to tend tasks in Bree-land; I and Rofda and our guests stayed behind, and our remaining business in the Blue Mountains I have tried to complete, though with mixed success. I met that visitor from the east and fretted if the advice I gave her was wise and firm enough; I tried to meet with another friend to see if I could be of assistance with another matter, but I must have had poor luck with the timing, and she seems now to be gone on a trip.
I did hire the stonemason; I would have been more nervous going about it if Rofda had not guided me each step of the way. I hope it will work out; she says he is of good character, but I am worried that He is to coordinate the repair of a windmill for my honor-sister Arlis; though relatively speaking the mill is but a small one, it is my first time commissioning such a serious project and signing my own name to a contract as an adult. My chest rattles with nervousness, but I am just as excited and proud; I hope it turns out such that you and Hróda are proud of me as well.
While taking care of these matters I was at last able to make the proper acquaintance of Arlis's family here in the Blue Mountains. Already I love them dearly, and though I know it is soon to hope they will think of me as their grandson or nephew in truth, I may hope instead that I may earn it over the future years of my friendship with Arlis.
I hope I will be allowed to come west again.
Two matters yet remain. The first: I still seek the advice of a master of Dwarvish lore; Arlis believes she knows exactly the Dwarf for it, but her obligations are so many I am not sure I will be able to gain an audience with her on this trip.
The second: by chance I met an elderly Dwarf, one Kveldun son of Kvass, who I learned is in search of his young nephews, recently fled from their home near Thorin's Gate. His fear is that these children, barely into their forties, have gone on a quest for vengeance and glory that will lead them all the way to Caradhras. Little boys with patchy beards and training axes to climb Caradhras in winter! My heart broke at the thought. Though he insisted that the recovery of them should be his own duty, I could not bear to keep silent about it, and every Dwarf to whom I have spread the news has immediately volunteered his help. I hope that Arlis and I have word from Master Kveldun or his sister Lady Nia before we depart, for if he suspects his nephews to travel through Bree-land next, our friends and lodgings in the Stone Quarter may be of use.
It has also made me appreciate how worried you must have been when I left your halls. Though I am neither so young nor so foolish to travel outside a caravan, young and foolish I admit I am. You must have been so grieved and frightened, and for causing you that pain, I am truly regretful.
From the start, I should have just spoken to you. I should have believed in the love and goodness proved to me by the attentive kindness constantly shown me near seven decades; I should have trusted that nothing ill would ever befall me for speaking honestly. What pain and sadness you must have felt, wondering what you did to breed in me such distrust, when in truth it is nothing! never have you done evil by me, never in all my life.
I love you so, G—l. And I love you, Mother, who reads this, and the Maker who allowed me to be born your son.
I am the richest of all Dwarves and perhaps all souls.
Blessed beyond all blessings am I to remain,
Your child,
Bíld.
