Sir
The morning has given me a little less unquiet than last night, when the sight of you made me very tired. I have reflected on matters since, and now I wish to better explain my indignation and dissatisfaction.
Ruineth came to us for help, but you turned her away, with a sense of having been wronged and hardly dealt with. As your Master, it is my duty to deduce what is needful to know and what is not. I once told you that you are not the Gatekeeper of the House; it is not for you to decide what is worthwhile and what to shut out. Despite your bright intellect, your judgment is faulty. Intellect, of itself, though it may answer the questions of life, is not enough when there is a want of tender and kindly feeling. I have surveyed your conduct and searched my heart, in order to find the right estimation of things, but I cannot find any wisdom in what you have done, or not done. In your ignorance, you did not realize the danger, but you did regard everything with indifference. And you still do not see that you have done any wrong, either to Ruineth or the House, and that is very wrong.
Your actions, or rather, inactions, show much selfishness. There is hazard in secret thoughts and whispers, and, if no care is taken, and nothing is done, through apathy or idleness, then ruin is sure to follow. A wrong is more dangerous when it is silent and unnoticed. Greater suffering has been occasioned by your disregard of Ruineth. It is well for you that Estarfin and Danel did not perish, but do not think you have absolved yourself of this evil.
I find myself wondering why it is you serve the House: you have not made yourself easily of service; instead, you are as a neglectful dead-weight and a hindrance. Consider this a missed opportunity and a lost advantage for yourself. But I desire to see you a firm pillar, and so you ought to be. I wish for you to understand the folk of the Valley a little better, and reflect on your hard-heartedness and inconsideration as you labour for them. Remember that when the weather is rough, and the wind contrary, the roof caves in, if uncaring hands do nothing.
Tomorrow you will report to the stables, an hour before sunrise. For the next seven days, you will sweep up whatever litter and dung found there, and you will refill the cistern, by carrying water from the river up the hill, and do whatever the stable-master asks, until the sun goes down again. He will be watching for idleness, so be sure to remember your duty, and be prompt.
Lord Ambassador Parnard
