1 December
To: Oliver Thornstead
Bree-town
My Dear Uncle,
As I mentioned in my previous letter, I intend to call at your house tomorrow, if you are still amenable to a visit. I had hoped to arrive early in the day, around ten o'clock, but if you'll forgive me, the time will very likely be a little later, perhaps sometime in the afternoon. This is due to my own misstep of indulging in a bit too much ale the past few nights at the Prancing Pony. Do not think ill of me, Uncle, as a man may be forgiven for seeking a respite from his troubles now and again, may he not? My own headache is punishment enough, and you will have my sincerest apologies if I have inconvenienced you at all.
You will not have the pleasure of asking me if my inebriated evenings were spent in the company of Miss Forbush, as I am telling you now that they were not. I have not had the mispleasure of encountering our mutual acquaintance for quite some time. The ladies one encounters in the Bree tavern are palatable, I suppose, but there have been none to capture my attention beyond a pale curiosity. And this is a blessing, is it not? The fewer complications in a man's life, the better, wouldn't you say?
I hope you will allow me to trespass upon your hospitality for a night or two, at least. I wish to speak with you about several matters, including the lumber camp, the dilemma of Miss Forbush and her family, and a few other things. Whatever disappointments you may feel towards me, Uncle, your advice is always desired. I hope that, in time, you will come to see me as something besides the wayward nephew who threatens to disappoint at every turn.
Say hello to my aunt. I will see you both very soon.
Warm Regards,
Westen
