[From the direction of the Brandywine, a black shape flies over Bree-town... a rotund shape, it could be called, though with great offense given to its owner, Mänik of the Iron Hills, whose distinguished pedigree can be traced back to the first Rookery of Grór, he'd have you know.
The Raven alights on a windowsill in a shabby neighborhood near Staddle-gate, honking loudly at the dwarf within. He bears many messages rolled-up tightly, one inside the other; a terrible weight it was, too! Can't that beardling be a little more terse in his writings, especially when asking a Raven to deliver them! Ravens are living beings, you know, with flesh and blood and feelings! And also a need for food. What food does he have? It had best be better than the fare last time. Don't mind if he does —
... If the dwarf's ever able to read the outermost letter, it begins like so:]
Bíld son of Bóurr to dearest Maddoct, warm and affectionate greeting.
At very, very long last we set off from Thorin's Hall; as is ever the case, our plans are realized at least two weeks later than they should be. But no falsehood: we come now, bringing you your beloved cousin. Make yourself ready, and tell Maurr to make ready the house, though there is some additional (perhaps bad) news I beg you give him:
We come also with Kveldun, son of Kvass, about whose nephews he can tell you if he has not already, and Master Erlingur of the Grey Mountains, who has volunteered to assist in their retrieval. The suspicion is that they make for the mountains north of Othrikar in hopes of slaying a drake-father — little lads of forty! — and have already crossed into the Shire; they are on ponies and probably intend to take the North-South Road, so I hope our friends are watching the Brandywine Bridge. The hope is to capture the lads before they cross into Bree-land, and failing that before they make it to the North Downs, so they are not like to stop in Bree-town any more than one or two nights; nevertheless, neither of these two is a young Dwarf, and I wish that my family could see them comfortably housed. (Maddoct, please comfort my brother now, as he shudders.) If there is literally no room at our place in the Stone Quarter, perhaps it must be an inn room, but I desire that Bóurr's sons should at least see to the expense.
I am not sure, if we fail to intercept the lads in the Shire, that I will go with them to Othrikar. I am not sure what role I may play other than the Dwarf who holds the coinpurse, and I hope someone else may be persuaded to take it in my stead. Otherwise I can do little more than bandage a wound, and that no better than any of the veterans; if I would only make the company slower and more clumsy, perhaps I will do more good by staying behind.
Regardless, I give you now two letters that must be delivered.
The first, on the large parchment, is what was promised Master Dimheim at the end of my Durin's Day journey. Though I attempted to consider very carefully what would be acceptable for me to write, I would appreciate it if you pass your wiser eyes over it and redact any information I give too freely. I trust your judgment in this, as I do in all things.
The last, in the roll tied with ribbon, is for Finnric Springwatch, my friend, who stays at Miss Rubiginosa's house in Henstead, 4 Chestnut Street; we have walked there together. It is urgent, so I beg you or Maurr to deliver it if Mänik does not agree to fly one stop further himself.
No more at this time, for we set off in haste for the Shire, but I am honored to remain,
Yours faithfully,
Little Bíld.
