Her response, given to him on top of a stack of three books stolen from the Gallows library which she begs him to return for her ('I can't. I have had them for months and if I return them now they will know for certain that I took them and not simply that they were badly reshelved') is not cleverly folded. She needed the space to write and indeed must have been running out of paper for this note (if such a word can be applied) runs across two pages, and must first be read from top to bottom and then turned by degrees for she has scrawled to fill the surrounding margins as well:
Mr. Ellis,
To tell you everything about Kalvad would be a very challenging prospect indeed, so you must tell me if there is a particular aspect in which you are most interested. For now, I will tell you about Bellmoral.
First, you should know the the 'l' is fundamentally silent; take caution that if you pronounce it as anything more complicated than 'Bemora', you will be known instantaneously for a mysterious visitor from Elsewhere and will face no end of scrutiny and curiosity from anyone you might come across there.
With a fast horse you might ride south to Sommerset in a three days, but to travel there comfortably is really the undertaking of closer to five by way of carriage, and so a vast majority of all trade and business and does not go to the capitol but rather makes itself known by way of Draycott, a port city which might be reached in half the time and is very friendly to any young lady interested in very nearly the latest fashions and news from abroad. So you see, Bellmoral is very much a place of country living but is not so tragically remote as to be compared to the likes of Chaepstow or Stawford who are unlikely to have even heard of Iugul, much less that there has been a war going on there.
(That is a joke. I'm sure they can't be so ill-informed as all that.)
Now, Bellmoral—It is predominantly a place for the raising of livestock and tenant farming. Many, many years ago it was part of the grand holdings of a very wealthy old family, but was broken up during the Great Amendments, and so now is dotted with smaller estates of rather less ancient houses, one of which is my family's and where I lived until my apprenticeship. I suppose it is not wholly unlike the Bannorns in that way, although my father has no title (hence I am a Miss, and not a Lady or anything like it). Kalvad is certainly rather more like Ferelden than any other place in Thedas, although having been to the Orlesian countryside I can imagine it might be slightly closer to that in terms of climate and so on (subtracting, of course, the general scars of war and burning fields and so on and there has not been fighting on the Summer Isle proper in forty years).
The summers are mild and the winters cold. The Choral River runs through it and is almost always too bitter to swim in, though I have done so in late August without being overly troubled. To reach my father's house, you must travel west from the village, turning up a long lane of hedgerow until you arrive in a square shell gravel courtyard. It is a fine old stone house with only some ivy and a reasonably pleasant garden with two or three large trees beside it. Should you ever find yourself there, I strongly recommend making your way to the third stairwell landing. There is a small circular window there and through it you can see the wood at the estate's edge, and much of the valley for quite a ways past it, including Jack's Crossing which is a bridge I nearly put my mother into a grave over on account of falling off it when I was a baby who could not be made to stop climbing any manner of rock or railing if not held down by force.
It is a tolerable enough place if you enjoy quiet, and so you would be correct to think that I spent many a day there unamused to the very edge of senselessness. Please forgive this very dull account. Now that I've written all of it, I'm rather of the mind to start over and describe something more exciting (the Church of Kalvad, for example, is not so fascinating an institution as the Chantry, but I think it would be an interesting point of comparison. Our gods are somewhat similar to the Maker, but there is no Andraste et cetera et cetera), but alas!
Let this be a lesson to you that you must be more specific about your requests or find yourself on the receiving end of a very long, very boring education about a place with hardly any merit save that it is pretty and the people living in it somewhat pleasant.
deep breath