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A mere letter contained the following in a flowing script most definately not belonging to the usually illegible Fea; it was obvious that she had dictated it's composition so that the illustrius Barrow-Wight would actually be able to read it:
In seeing how this lovely barrow has grown and flourished under your supervision, I suspect that you are either exceptionally proud, like a many-children'd father rather early in the day before he becomes exhausted by them, or a bit nervous, like a many-inmate'd prison warden rather late in the day, long after he's become resigned to them.
May this birthday of your creation amuse you, and may the day, with or without affectionate letters, be one full of adventure and good drink and good friends, as all good days are wont to include.
Regards,
Feanor of the Peredhil
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