The second letter is also written in blocky letters of an unsure hand, inelegant on the patched parchment washed of its script. The ink is rusty gray, homemade of charcoal and fat and scratched with a quill. Curled up in a tight scroll, tied with cord and sealed with a blob of candle wax it is travel stained and crumpled on one end.
Dear Crow,
I rite a second letter to inform you I have found some work with a carruvan in Dale. They must be despret beccause they hired me rite away to help gard wagon. It is not going far, only among villiges. Trade is the trade here. Every day wagons come and go, carrying all kinds of things. From east, south and a few go west. Not many. I am lerning tho, how much things cost and how they trade. Coins or goods or skill, nothin is without some price.
Myself, I am paid 2 silver for coming and 2 for going with an extra 3 silver if the shipment is not mulset moles stolen or broken. They say there is some people from the far east that attack, I have not seen them tho but if they are anythin like those I knew I would bet the village wagons are not a favrit favorite target. Easy silver for a week of work.
Remembering our tawks, I will not be happy with just this. Once I could have been but I want more. I keep practising my riting and numbers, tho it is hard to find riting material and books are costly.
I am sleeping in a room in a villige called some unpro strange name in the local speach. It is not far from the forest they call Murkwood. I think the name of the villige might mean 'place of dead or broken trees' but I am not well skilled in their talk yet.
I will rite again and send it with the first on the next wagon train west. I hope it finds you well.
Your friend,
Anna
