Dear Drifa,
I hope this letter finds you well. I imagine the snow is piled high outside your lookout door, and if I know you, you feel it's high time for it to melt away. Have you made your path down the slope like you used to? I still remember the time we turned that path into a slide. Do you recall? We had a piece of multi-coloured canvas left over from setting up the tent, and we used it as a sled. How we flew down the path, our beards whipping out behind us! You made me sit in front—you called me your dwarven shield—and my beard was completely snow-covered when the ride was over. We were both soaked in snow, but later, we warmed ourselves by a cozy fire in dry clothes. The sound of water dripping from our cloaks as we enjoyed hot toddies and steaming stew in your comfortable tent brings back good memories, my friend.
We didn't meet in the summer, and I never returned to Bree after our last correspondence. Burin had us all working tirelessly to fulfill a large order for axes, unlike any I had seen before. The order came from the elves in the great Greenwood, but I can't say what they're up to. Regardless, time slipped away, and here we are again, riding on the lion chasing the spring lamb. Where does the time go? Can you tell me?
After that hectic working spree, I requested some time off and finally got it. In the fall, I travelled east and then south with a couple of Hobbits, and I have a grand tale of adventure that I can't wait to share with you when we see each other. I have been spending time in Nan Curunír in the Treegarth of Orthanc. I know you know it well. I cannot seem to depart this forest. It's such a magical place.
But we shall meet in the spring, dear Drifa. I give you my word. I will be knocking at your tent door, so please keep an ear and eye out for me. It's high time I took you to Gondor; you will be impressed with the city.
Take care for now.
Afird
The world was fair in Durin's Day.
Cannot promise you results though so you have to experiment and see.
