(You see a piece of paper balled up on the ground, thrown away in frustration. You open it up, and find a song or a poem, mostly scratched out. Clearly a minstrel wrote this, or was working on it, and got frustrated, unnable to find the right words.)
Of the Sun and Moon
~L
Marvelous rays!
Devine Perfect fire!
A heat and a wonder wihto without compare!
I will never tire weary of thee.
Marvelous beams!
Perfect chill cool ice!
A chilling and sultry breath upon my skin!
A tempting breath upon my neck, begging for secrets!
A...a....a....a....
~Note to self: You will never be considered among the greatest writers of your time if you continue to write as poorly as this.~
(The writing is spidery and fluid, almost illegible in some parts. There are many doodles, mostly swirling lines near the edges of the paper. This note would be found in Celondim.)
