Dear father,
I bring you salutations from Bree, together with a few tidings and matters of import to our family. But first of all, stop blaspheming: I am sorry I put you through the torment of reading, I know how you loathe this. I promise next time either I will be the messenger, or someone trusted, who can tell you news of me.
I won't be able to come home, not for the next two or four days at least. No, I didn't get in any trouble. I am not in shackles, nor sick, nor have I dishonoured you, and the Militia didn't threw me out of their ranks, either. The fact is.. I've been promoted to Guard rank. It's not much, of course. But it's something. Seems like our master-at-arms Arundar isn't a complete pain in the ars back, since he recognizes valour once he sees it. No, he's not blind, father. And of course I know what you're thinking, even though I am in Bree and you're in Combe. You taught me well.
Today I was promoted to guard, and I didn't even have to bribe someone for that, like you humorously suggested last time we spoke. More than just being promoted, I got the chance to lead the volunteers in a major assignment, which only the revered Béma knows how I managed to pull off without getting myself - or the others - killed. But enough about this, I'll tell the tale when I'll be home.
Another matter I must inform you on.. My new responsibilities with the militia require my presence in Bree. I'm afraid I won't be able to come and help you at the forges as much as you'd like need me to. I know your opinion regarding the craft. I want to open a bladesmith here, in Bree. I want to be on my own, now. I spoke with a few fellow volunteers and found some support.. Perhaps you'll meet one of them at the end of this week, when I'll come home to pack a few of my belongings. He's a nice lad, but he's too funny sometimes. I even found a suitable place for the shop..
But alas, I too think you read enough for the evening, and I'll end this epistle here. Now.. please, tend to mother. Tell her to stop crying.. I am not moving to Gondor, am I?
Your son,
Athanaric
