29 March
To: Oliver Thornstead
Bree-town
Dear Uncle,
I will be brief on my first point. I pray you give no weight to the words being spoken by the two sisters. I will not lower myself to write their names here. No man is completely innocent and blameless, and I am no exception to this rule. I know my past would bear witness against me to certain folk. I hope this does not include you, Uncle. But on this point, I am not guilty. I will swear to that on my father, your brother's, grave (may he rest in peace). I will secure a confession from her, hand-written, one way or another. Beyond this, I will write no more of it here.
I worry for the young girl I spoke to you about, Audea. I have not seen her for quite a long time, and she always seemed a nervous and shy creature. Will you and Aunt keep an eye and an ear open when you're in town? I described her to you, so if you see a girl going about alone who bears a resemblance, do let me know.
This brings another matter to my mind. There is a young woman, a cripple, who seems to tread a small circuit between a ramshackle area of Bree and the inn, the Prancing Pony. I've never spoken directly to her, but I overheard some conversation lately that gave me cause to feel a little concern for her well-being. Without going into a long tale, might you ask Aunt if she has any simple chores that she could use a helping hand with? Mending or cooking or anything a second pair of hands could do for a few coppers? I will explain to you in more depth when next we meet, but I believe this woman could do with someone taking an interest in her situation.
Do you remember me telling you about the peculiar woman of the woods, Ulfey? I imagine so. Tales of such are not easily forgotten. She has invited me to visit her at her home in the forest, and promised to cook a meal. She was far more excited than I deserve, but I will attempt to make her feel no regret for her invitation, if I can. I thought about entreating Mason Thorne for an extra load of firewood to bring with me as a gift, since she was so grateful for the last bit I gave her. But, of course, it is not winter anymore, and what sort of gift is a pile of wood for dinner with a lady? Therefore, I need your advice. What might I take with me to give as a token of my thanks? Perhaps this is a question I should direct to Aunt.
Until we next meet,
Your Nephew, Westen
