[Enfolded with this letter is a flower of a sort that grows not in Men's lands, shed naturally from its vine before being pressed and dried; in appearance it resembles a bundle of dainty traveler's-joy but blue in color.]
Bíld son of Bóurr to Maddoct son of Haddoct, cheerful and affectionate greeting.
On a little bench I sit, the same carved white marble as the pillars and half-dome above me, looking down across the Valley that cascades below, the path that cuts diagonally left and right like slashes upon a sleeve from which erupt the damask dark and bright of trees, shrubs, and flowers. The lattermost yet blaze with summer's vigor, while in the trees the sign of iavas just appears in the brush of gilding upon the leaves, spots of copper and gold that dance under the sun.
If I were to try to make you understand what it is like to be in Imladris, galdûn, I think I would say that here I truly feel and understand it, 'the season of the fall-of-the-leaf'. I feel that in this place at this moment, I witness the autumn-of-autumns; it is not only the bushes and the trees that droop heavily beneath the weight of summer's lush production, but the people, the buildings, even the air that feels laden to bursting with color and history and song and life. But it is life that is long and heavy, very heavy, life that feels the shortening of the thousand-thousandth day and turns in unison West, towards the sleeping-place of the sun. And yet — although I do not find the Elf-lands, as I believe I have already told you, to be timeless at all, but infused with a trembling awareness of every moment — I somehow do not find it to be sad. Every breath one takes is one closer to the fall of the last leaf, yet full of tranquility, beauty, and peace.
The Valley makes you feel that, regardless, it will be all right.
I hope that my few and ineloquent words may transport you here with me for at least a little while, and you enjoy them near as much as I enjoyed reading of the sunrise in the East, though I hope you are able to come to this place and breathe its densely fragrant air yourself, perhaps on your return journey to the land of those sun-red mountains, and someday form an opinion of your own.
Finnric, Seimurr, Arlis, and I are all well. I entered the society of Elves with two fears: the first, that I would encounter one as horrible as that Elf who needled Balnirar and me and find myself — I, Bíld Bóurrul, a child still young even to be out of mountain — having to account for the fall of Doriath, and the second that my mission is foolish and I shall have imposed on my escorts to bring me here for naught. The second fear I can report happily dashed; when I spoke of my interest in healing, an Elf immediately offered me access to a translation of our people's own ancient lore, recovered from Khazad-dûm. I have already transcribed my own copy, which I am keeping safe among my effects and will deliver to you (and, if you judge it appropriate, Master Dimheim) when we return to Bree-land; even translated to Elf-script and transcribed from stone to leaf, I felt that by touching the page I was closer to the words of my ancestors than I had ever before been, and more than once had to pause because of the cloudiness of my eyes.
As regards my first fear, I am relieved that so far I have been received with warmth and graciousness. The nearest thing to unkindness I have experienced is the suspicion of a Captain with a particular vendetta against riding-goats. But though I think his hostility, slight as it may be, is laughably misdirected at a few timid Longbeardlings, I am not by it much offended, for keeping the security of the Valley is his duty, and to be concerned with its borders' permeability is his natural disposition. And every other Elf has been to me more than cordial, some very generous. One has offered to mentor me in exactly the subject I have come to Imladris to study, though I have had some trouble in locating her (perhaps my error is that I have attempted to find her; in a forest, it is surely wiser for the Dwarf to wait for the Elf to find him). Another even extended us welcome to her Silvan-style festival, though I am not sure if we ought actually to accept, as I suspect it may have been but a gesture of politeness and that Elves have little use for Naugrim at their festivities, save as jesters.
Most remarkable of all I have met an Elf who, more than being kind, speaks with a true understanding and respect for Dwarves, gained, apparently, from a long stay in Khazad-dûm. I know that if I say she reminds me of Arlis you will be immediately picture someone to be feared; in this case I would make no attempt to persuade you otherwise! Yet (and it is no surprise) I find her to be a singular and wonderful person, one I could pester with questions and listen to long hours; and not once has she called me 'Naug'.
If nothing else I accomplished in my entire stay, not one copied page or snippet of lore about the heart and soul, to meet this person alone would make it all worthwhile.
As far as the heart and soul go, I have not yet gotten deep into the study of it. I did happen to meet a Woman healer also a guest in Valley, and in our long and interesting conversation she warned me that the learning of the Elves in this field may take me only so far, for Elves are Elves and do not scar, heal, and forget in the same manner as we mortals do. Of this I was already aware, so I am not exactly disappointed; rather, it reminds me to moderate my expectations. Even so — how excited I am.
I am sure that I will write again before I leave, with further news of my education or perhaps of your lady cousin, from which I am fair dying to hear word. Whenever a bird passes overheard I look up in excitement to see if it is Mänik — but so far, no silhouette has been plump enough to be he.
In the meanwhile I greatly enjoyed reading your report. I am glad of nearly all of it; that Miss Jackilyn heals well, that Miss Kithri does the same, and that you have somehow befriended Master Yurri, even if not by the most ideal circumstances (and though you may beg otherwise, I am of course furious to hear he hit you; to pummel Master Lincoln was not right but at least was conducted under the reasonable grounds of a challenge, but to hit you has no such excuse). And I am particularly glad to hear I will not return to find you thin, for that would be truly worthy of shed tears.
I am not happy to hear of poor Miss Elgerin's misfortunes; I hope she does not become ill and instead that she arrives at a permanent home soon, for no child should be ever seeking sadly for lost parents, especially when those parents are as horrible as we fear hers to be.
Since receiving your letter I have given much thought to the conflicting advice of Master Yurri and your encouraging friend. You know that I greatly admire you, worthy one, and so my initial impulse is to agree with the latter and to tell you to answer questions about where you keep your axe by showing the querent a particular finger. However — having reflected, that is not precisely how I feel.
I like you very much, Maddoct Haddoctul, just as you are, and I do not think you need to change. And if you do change, I would not see you do it for any other person — not the meanly critical, for certain, but neither for the warmly supportive who, while well-meaning, still gives criticism of his own.
I bid this: change never, galdûn, unless it is for yourself and your own happiness. Be a cockerel if you wish, and disturb the whole mountain with your song; though they may not appreciate its beauty, that is their failing, for I can perceive it with perfect clarity. Or be a chick, if you wish, and hide yourself behind barrels, if that way you feel more content and safe; I know that I do, and though I do not think you should ever feel ashamed, I also do not think it is always an evil to avoid conflict, even as a Dwarf.
Just be yourself and be happy; that is all I wish, for your happiness is mine, both in the present as my beloved friend and in the future, as a promise — that a queer Dwarf can live as he is.
The only other news I have to give you is that Seimurr told me about Maurr. I was, of course, very distressed and a fair bit angry, and I shed many tears thinking of him alone and hurt in Bree-land. Now, however, I do not so much weep, for I realize he is not alone; he is in your care, and I truly know no better Dwarf to care for both his medical, practical needs and his wounded heart. I will not bid you treasure him and treat him kindly, for I already know you will and have. I will bid instead that you enjoy his company and be not too intimidated by his manner. I worry one could mistake him easily for an aggressive sort, traditional in the uncomplimentary sense, and that he might by his blunt and forceful manners bully you by accident. But I can declare with confidence that it could only be by accident, for in truth he is sweet and tender-hearted, ever thinking of others' happiness and merriment, with a particular dislike of — Master Yurri's sort, let us say. I am sure that, knowing how important you are to me, his wish will be only for your comfort and friendship — and my wish, of course, is for the same.
I have already written him, but I bid you give him my love; and my regards, too, to Master Balnirar, Miss Taite, Miss Liffey and Master Sedryn, and all the rest of our mutual acquaintance.
No more at this time, but I remain with earnest and devoted friendship,
Yours lovingly,
Bíld.
