To Lord Glorfingwë, with a large delivery of supplies
My dear friend,
As well as one barrel of pipe-weed (which I had to call in quite a few favours to acquire, but cleaning that up is for the future), I have sent as much hemp-flower and poppy-juice as we could part with. The poor Dwarrow! I cannot believe they are suffering so much pain before firith has even properly turned into rhîw! Harnack said absolutely nothing about this -- is he one of the sufferers, and if so, is he displaying any other symptoms? For example, are the affected joints (I can only presume we are talking about not only his joints, but quite a lot of joints indeed) swollen and red? Send another bird if you need me to come in person. I greatly dislike the area around Hrimbarg, for reasons you know all too well, but if there is some sort of plague of rheumatism (or worse) going on, the outpost may need a visit from a healer.
Because of the temperatures and the difficulty of shipping, the milk of poppy has been rendered into the dark, crumbled solid in the third barrel. I am sure I do not need to tell an old soldier such as yourself, but be careful when administering this to our shorter friends, and give it only to the worst afflicted. The Quendi are not intoxicated by this any more than we are by slightly too much wine, but Mortals can be outright slain by it, and the line between a pain-relieving dosage and a lethal one can be perilously thin. At the bottom of this note you will find the formula for how much to give based on body weight. (Of course weighing a Dwarf, particularly in the cold, is more than you probably want to take on in an emergency such as this must be. Remember that they are heavier than a Mannish boy of the same height, due to muscular density, so just make your best guess and add fifty.)
The hemp flower is generally the better tolerated remedy. If you give this first, it may obviate the need to progress to the other. Watch for fits of laughter and especially a suddenly increased appetite -- the last thing Hrimbarg needs is to eat through its entire supply of salted pork, and the last thing we need is to send them all of our provisions. There is caring about the fate of our Mortal allies, and there is being altruistic to the point of ridiculousness. Here again, the line is awfully fine.
If I write more I shall require a second sheet, and I do not wish to burden the bird. I shall be terribly curious to hear reports from your good self and Lord Branalph upon your return.
Yours in haste -- Manadhlaer
