Mother,
Do you remember how you told us to make friends when we left? Well, I believe we've managed to get along quite well with Ori, Dori, Nori, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur. We are after all, quite the charming young princes.
However, I can honestly say that this burglar that Thorin plans to hire does in no way, under any circumstances whatsoever, enjoy our company. He nearly had a panic attack when Kíli did something as simple as wipe his shoes off before entering his rather impressive house, and looked murderous when we did his dishes. For someone so fond of the idea of home, he surely did not want us to be in his. I daresay he is strange indeed.
Thorin isn't too sure about him either, he has no desire to risk this quest for any reason whatsoever, and I have a great bit of trouble imagining Bilbo making it a few hours in the wild, let alone the year or so we'll be gone.
I'm excited to be out and about, you never quite let us go anywhere interesting, and I've seen so many people so far! I had no idea how short we were, or better yet, how awkward some people can be. Do all folk outside of Ered Luin not have regular meals with large groups? Is it really so strange to sing before and after a dinner? And why does this entire house smell like old pieces of parchment?
These questions will plague me for my entire life, I am sure.
I have not told Master Baggins that I am currently using some paper that I found in his library to write you, but his hospitality knows no bounds. I am sure he'd consent. I do not know when I will next be able to write you; Uncle doesn't seem to have any plans to stop if he doesn't need to. So maybe this coming week, or maybe this next year, who knows?
I can only imagine the mail carrier's face when he sees that this envelope is addressed to the Blue Mountains, I'm not sure anyone here has been remotely out of their little town.
Best of wishes and love,
Fíli.