Bíld son of Bóurr to Miss Rubiginosa of the Fallohides fond greeting and regards, from beneath the mysterious canopy of the Trollshaws.
Our journey to this point has proceeded peacefully, if slowly. Traveling with Miss Kithri naturally necessitates that we make frequent stops to have several banquets a day. As there is no real pressure of time, I make no complaint, and indeed have been enjoying this jaunt far more than my trip west in a far larger caravan. The habit of multiple breakfasts is one I could easily adopt, though such sentiments are the cause of Master Motgrouk incessantly teasing me that I am actually a bearded Hobbit, which wounds my feelings sorely.
From Chetwood to the Weather Hills we journeyed, bypassing the Forsaken Inn as it seemed to our eyes a most unsavory place. We encamped at the foot of Weathertop, and though we alas opted not to climb to the summit for the view as my friend Miss Liffey recommended, many sights we enjoyed regardless. On my first journey through those Lone-Lands I thought it a sad and desolate place, with its endless blasted hills; but riding through in high summer in merry company, I was able to see those hills spread out with wildflowers, like barrels and barrels of carnelian and amethyst beads had been tossed out in careless handfuls over the tawny downs.
We stopped briefly at a place called Ost Guruth, an ruin of Arnor reclaimed as a fortified encampment by Men who call themselves Eglain (& ate many things and met a Hobbit by the name of Miss Dassa). My honor-sister Arlis says they are goodly folk who lend protection and aid to passing travelers, and though I did not speak with any myself, when I looked upon the colorful hills with their twisting flowers, dotted here and there with the skeletons of abandoned farmhouses, I felt a sincere wish that their fortunes soon improve, that they may return to their livelihood and make this land gay and productive as it once must have been, in past millennia.
From there we crossed the Last Bridge and made our way into the Trollshaws, the most treacherous leg of our journey. We were immediately hit with a summertime storm and made haste to find dry and sheltered ground, lest our ponies become trapped in the mud. Arlis brought us to a site that the Elves frequent and guard, called the Fenced Place and I think also a ruin of Arnor. I write this from our little campsite, though with some slight difficulty as one of my arms is trapped beneath the dozing Finnric.
Master Finnric has been the subject of much criticism from my older companions on this trip, chiefly for his practice of riding ahead to scout alone or scampering off into the bushes in search of edibles. They make much of his youth, casting doubt on his stealth and spear arm; and though I do not myself doubt them, having seen him at practice and, too, beating bread dough to an inch of its life for hours on end — I cannot exactly defend his habits to the rest, as they make me very nervous as well. Dangerous lands these are, where sometimes even a Dwarvish caravan guard falls.
Still I wish they would not go on and on about how green children ought not to leave the Shire and whatnot. For judging from what he has chosen to share with me, it seems to me that to stay would be intolerable, even impossible — and that his habit of acting independently, living by his own wits and laughing at the spectre of death, is (though it may alarm his friends) in fact the most natural and logical way for him to be. I wish they would understand this — he has permitted me to explain to the rest those circumstances that he shares with me, but I do not know that such would be sufficient to make Master Motgrouk or Miss Kithri really understand. Arlis, perhaps, especially as I feel I detect some of the same carelessness in her at times so I have told only her.
If Master Lexand remains in Bree-land when we return, I would very much like to get to know him better and to hear from the both of you the tales of your struggles adventures when you were young, like Master Finnric and me, and how you coped survived made your way. In part I wish this out of natural affection and respect for you, our elders, but I also desire to learn your wisdom and perhaps the lessons of your mistakes.
Above all I wish for Master Finnric to see a full century, as you nearly have. I do not think I could bear it if he does not.
No more at this time, but I am honored to remain,
Yours deeply,
Bíld
