Ethuilon,
Of course you've bloody left Rivendell. Trust a Mirkwood elf never to stay in the same place for long. I always wondered how your folk could stand all that moving around. I reckon it's a bit like your Noldor cousins feeling the call to the West, except for you lot it's more like "the call to be an incorrigible pain in the arse at every possible opportunity".
I hope Celebreneth's keeping you out of trouble, at least. Perhaps a sightseeing journey around Middle-Earth will be good for you, if you cut down on the day-drinking and don't start any fights with that Lorien elf you mentioned.
Me, I'm still in Bree. Yes, alright, call me a hypocrite, but I'm not as like to get myself in trouble as you, and there's still work to be done.
I had the pleasure of running into a fellow Erebor dwarf a couple of weeks ago. Balnirar, his name was, and as chance would have it, he'd run into Celebreneth's adopted daughter on her way to the Havens a day or two before. Wasn't too impressed to hear she'd called him a Naugrim, among other things, but I suppose she's no longer Middle-Earth's problem now.
We had a fine evening of drinking with a few sell-swords and a messenger, though I do wonder if it's time I stopped playing that "never-have-I-ever" game around other dwarves. As luck would have it, Balnirar was out of the room when someone cracked out the old "I've never kissed an elf" one, and, well, I've never been a good liar.
(Funny thing - the fellow he went off to talk with was the tallest Man I'd ever seen, taller even than most elves, though Balnirar assured me he was trustworthy. Shame I didn't get to chat with him myself - I can't put my finger on it, but there was something fascinating and ancient about him, like one day he'd just walked out of the forest fully-formed, with all its wisdom still inside him. Or maybe I was just a bit drunk. I don't know.)
I thank you for your letter, though I wish you'd write in a sensible order sometimes. We dwarves tell stories like we're doing battle; in solid, incontravertible lines, advancing ever onward to a conclusion, for good or ill. You write like you're following the flight of every bird that passes, like you're flinging thoughts into the air on a windy day without necessarily waiting to see where they land.
Bloody Mirkwood elves. Or maybe it's just you; I only really have your example.
Do give Celebreneth and her husband my regards. I'd offer to accompany Zaiss on his quest, but I doubt a craftsman with one-and-a-half legs will be much help to him in such treacherous territory. Still, I worry for him. He's a good lad, and I'd hate to see either of them hurt.
I can only hope it all goes better for the two of them than it ever did for us.
Stay safe, Ethuilon. Write back when you can.
Cordially,
Kolbrand.
