His youngest child to Bóurr son of Bíld of Erebor greeting.
Once again I walk the East Road, though I take it not as far as you might wish. Once more we try for Rivendell, again in the company of my bodyguard Master Finnric and my honor-sister Arlis, as well as Seimurr this time and, for at least the stretch to Ost Guruth, a reliable guide from among Women. We will join there a larger caravan, and so you may be assured we shall be safe, though disappointed you may be we do not yet go all the way to Erebor.
As little as has actually happened during our stop in Bree-land, much has my heart felt. Awful grief, shame, anger, such that many nights I have gone to bed drunk, tearful, or both. You need not worry that any misfortunes have befallen me personally; it is on behalf of my friends that I weep — and because when I am powerless either to help or to fight, weeping is all that I have left.
As it is not my misfortune to lament, I will not write of it here. I will say only that I have been decisively reminded of the importance of chastity, and you can rest easy, dear Father, that I shall not forget it.
As we set off, my heart is fretful, and not only for the friends I have left behind. Looking ahead, to that Valley of the Elves, I am also uneasy.
Till this week I had never met an Elf who behaved to me in any manner but a kind or at least civil one. Some, even, were to me more than kind — truly generous, patient, and compassionate. But I know this is a function of my having met none on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains and on the western a mere handful, and so all the while I have kept your warning in mind, never once doubting it to be accurate. And so it proved to be, at last: an Elf I met at last admitted that they do not think Naugrim to be real people with intelligence or capacity for suffering. The kindly ones treat us gently, like petting-animals; the less kind ones treat us just like animals. And they have the right — who can protest? They are, after all, Elves; and we are, after all, Dwarves.
But while I held your warning in mind, I also held your instruction: to offer only peaceful friendship and courtesy even in response to insult, for the end of amity between our peoples is a cost neither can pay, even if they do not believe it. And so even though the honor of my fellow was bruised — such horrible things were said I could never repeat them in ink, and I hate even to remember them — I helped to keep him calm. Of this the offender was of course not appreciative, and indeed I am sure he walked away without even a memory of the occurrence, certainly no concern.
For why should one immortal be concerned with mortals' efforts, feelings, and woes? It would be unnatural.
But as much as I am stung, and as much as the experience now casts a shadow of anxiety over my journey, I suppose I can take from it a little confidence, too, that if I face such unkindness again I know that I am able to keep my temper. Though I do not know about my honor-sister I hope that by it I make you proud, rather than ashamed that I do not fly into a rage in defense of my honor. But in our family, steadiness is the greater virtue, something for which I am very grateful.
For all of you I am truly grateful, and I love each of you so much. I would not exchange any one of you for anything in the world, and to you most of all, Father, was I most fortunate to be given.
I should finally reassure you that the matter about which I wrote to Mother has been resolved, and, to my joy, without any heartbreak. Though I am yet embarrassed by my conduct, I am glad that no harm came of it and that after a frank conversation all parted in friendship, good feeling, and no love.
You may remove the battering-ram from the front of your wheel-chair, Father.
When next I write it will be from the Valley. Until then I remain,
Faithfully and full of love,
Your Blída.
