Dearest Adeline:
I am sorry that it has taken me so long to send you this letter! I know that I promised I would do so as soon as I had settled in, and I now realize that I am settled in, but it happened by such incremental stages that I did not realize when the day had come.
Let me first assure you that all is well. I thought being on my own might be a difficult adjustment after living with family for so long, and it certainly did result in a few difficult evenings. But I have settled into a pleasant enough routine and I keep myself occupied. I am renting some rooms quite near the town's Market Square, and having to climb two flights of stairs to reach them may become troublesome in time, but for now, I still find it bracing and pleasant exercise. I carry the walking stick Dennison carved for me, but I do not truly need it, save once in a rare while, during cold rains. Even then I could get around fine without it at need.
Most days, though, I feel almost as limber as in my youth. Well, perhaps not quite that limber! My old sword, from my days as a town guard here, hangs now by the fireplace, and if I had to swing it, I would likely grow tired much quicker than I did then. But I am sure I would still know the feel of it, and anyone who was at the other end might feel both surprise and regret for giving me cause. In fact, once in a while, I test it, and it still feels familiar in my hand, even after so many years as a farm-wife. I suppose once it has sung in your hand, you never forget the tune.
Worry not, though! I did not seek work amongst the town guard. I am pleased to learn that quite a few women serve there now, notably the Appledore girls, who have grown into confident and sturdy women who man the jail. The years do pass, don't they? Just the other day I met Briallyn Cob and did not recognize her. The last time I saw her she was still small enough to sprint around the farmyard and throw herself through the gap in the fence without even slowing, and now she's become a woman, being courted by, well, I don't know how to describe him. Perhaps a vast, lumbering bear, only a great deal more cheerful. I don't think I caught the fellow's name, though I've bought bear fat from him.
Yes, bear fat! Since I chose not to take up the sword, and there's not much call in Bree-town to mill oats, I now sell soaps, candles, and when I can, perfumes and fragrances. There is a weekly Craft Fair and Farmer's Market, and while the hawking permit costs more than you would guess, I am doing all right. Some weeks I can barely sell a few candles, other weeks, I make as much as we'd make on a season's worth of oats. Last week, an Elf-maid (yes, we even see the occasional Elf in Bree) bought more than a hundred pennies worth of fragrances and scented candles, even the costly perfumes I made from flowers that I'd bought from a Gondorian merchant that brought them all the way from his homeland! It took about three months to find a buyer for those two phials, but they alone will pay my rent for the rest of the spring.
The Market is quite a bustling affair. Should you have occasion to visit, you must try to attend! Not just to see me, I mean, but because of the vibrancy and the variety of vendors. We often have a minstrel playing. There's a hobbit that sells some of the best pickles you've ever had, far better than mine ever were, and many other goods besides. Sometimes a baker also comes to market, though not often. Other merchants sell farm goods, wood-crafts, cheese, tinker's wares, weapons, hides and furs, and many other things besides. I am probably the oldest at market, though there is one woman who sells cabinets and carpentry who may match or even exceed my years, slightly. Oddly, I've yet to see a tailor. You should convince Percy to come down every so often; he might make good coin from a new market. Has he finally proposed? I hope things go well between you. He is a bit scattered, but that's nothing that can't be fixed by a good woman with her head on straight. I'm sure you could put him to rights without him even realizing.
When the weather turns, I may find a saddle for my pack-pony and go visiting up north. Though being alone is not as wearisome as I thought it might be, I would welcome a bit of company now and then, something I have not yet found in Bree-town. There's little welcome to be found in the Pony for a woman my age, I'm afraid, and not many other times to make acquaintances outside the market. Should the chill weigh less on you than on me, though, I would welcome a visit sooner! Though you may find my small rooms rather strongly scented, from my work as I restock my goods. The sense of smell diminishes with age, and that proves a positive boon in this business. But apart from that, I shall surely make you welcome!
With love,
Lissabeth
P.S. Of course I'm never entirely alone. Bramble has finally learned how to sit still at times, even at Market, but he is never far from my side. Still, while I appreciate both his loyalty and his enthusiasm, he is only a puppy and not much of a conversationalist.
