Dearest father,
I apologise for my lack of correspondence in this last month. I sincerely hope that my silence has caused you no heartache. I am, assure you, perfectly well and healthy.
In fact, I have arrived in a town called Bree, situated in Eriador and, as you predicted, have chosen to forgo the traveling life. You were correct in your assessment of me not being suited to such things, but I remain glad that you had the wisdom to at least let me try it for myself.
In the week since my arrival here, I have had two job offers, both for the keeping of books. I find myself eager to return to what I know. I find comfort in the simplicity of the numbers. They do not seek to surprise me, lie or hurt me in any way. Their elegance lies in their inability to be anything other than what they are.
For the moment I have taken a room within the tavern belonging to one of my prospective employers, a Mr Seaver, originally of Rohan. It is not perfect, of course, but it is clean and cheap. Mr Seaver himself is a perfect gentleman and, thankfully, quite blunt in his desire for a strictly professional relationship. I can only imagine that several of his other business connections have sought something else if he felt the need to state this intention, but I see no reason to judge. I've no interest in the man beyond the work he offers and am glad that he has no further interest in me.
Mister Keighley, or Roc as I have been told to call him, is quite a pleasant man. He runs some manner of charity for the local people, aiming to reform the bandits and thieves. A noble endeavor if ever there was one. He also has a minor merchant business with which to support his charity work. A charming fellow, if quiet and self-contained.
Bree thus far has been quite interesting. It seems sleepy and peaceful, but I've been warned of several unsavoury elements and certain dangers to beware. The same can be said of everywhere though, even home. It also looks quite different. The architecture here is squat and drab, not at all like the light stones and soaring buildings of Gondor. Still, I feel I could make a home here given a chance.
Enough of me. What of you, dear father? Does business go well? How are you? I do hope you've continued to take the tincture prescribed by the healers in my absence.
All my love,
Belethanor.
