19 September
To: Oliver Thornstead
Bree-town
My Dearest Uncle,
I pray that you and Aunt are well and in the best of health. Do take care in the coming weeks, as the air grows colder and people are more prone to catching coughs and fevers. I have already heard of a few souls around Bree-town who are suffering from such ailments, though it seems early in the season for it. Or else I am simply getting older, and each year is going by faster than I anticipate. I'll wager it is the latter.
A week or so ago, I experienced an odd thing. I was working at the lumber camp, and while such labor is always somewhat strenuous, it was nothing I hadn't done a hundred times before. I was in the middle of moving a bundle of planks from one spot to another, when the sunlight seemed to strike my face quite directly, and I had a sort of sudden turn. I could not hold onto the planks, they fell from my hands. A terrible pain went through my head, my vision went white as if I'd been struck blind, and I could hardly stay upright. The other men were beside me before I could think, and Mister Thorne commanded that I sit down even while I insisted that I was all right. The spell seemed to pass after several minutes, and I continued working, though my strength seemed somewhat sapped.
I desperately hoped that such a thing would not reoccur, but to my great dismay it has happened three more times. I pledged that I would seek the advice of a physician, but my employer believes that my years of working at the mill are at an end. I have worked for him for nigh on twenty years now. I know no other life nor means of providing for myself and feeling like a useful man. I do not want to believe that this portion of my life is at an end, for it is too bitter a pill to swallow.
I cannot fault Mister Thorne for his caution in sending me away. A man who has sudden spells where he cannot see is a danger to everyone, including himself, in such a setting. I was fortunate that no harm came to anyone. I shudder to think of what might have happened, had I been working at the saw or moving a large section of lumber and could not hold onto it properly.
I will not dismay, as painful as this circumstance may be. I am not bedridden or debilitated entirely. I can still work and be useful and earn coin, one way or another. With the winter coming near, I can at least offer to split wood for the local families. But more pressing yet is to discover the culprit for these sudden spells of dizziness and blindness. I know of a few healers in the village and outlying hamlets. I will inquire after them and see who has the most favorable reputation.
Mister Thorne, though he is a hard and economical master, is not without magnanimity. He spoke of a friend of his who works as a woodcarver in Knotwood village, who might be willing to take on a partner. And it seems there is also a decent apothecary there, and other places of business where I might find something to do to earn my keep.
I will endeavor then, to keep myself from the trappings of self-pity, while I ponder what to do next. I thought you would wish to know all that has happened, Uncle, that you might keep me in your good thoughts. And if you hear of any work I might be able to do, please send word to me, care of the Prancing Pony for now.
Until we next speak, I remain your nephew,
