letters

My Dearest El,

It has been weeks since I last wrote to you. Two months have passed since my last letter and I fear that this missive bears no better news. I have been gravely injured, and I am lucky to be alive at all. I thank the stars above that I was allowed to keep my life.

Dearest El,

It has been some weeks now since you went thither into the world. I have not heard of your lover since, but then I suspect that her friends are keeping her good company in your absence. My own friends are on the front; I fear that they shall not return this time. It seems as if every time I go out, there is always bad news to be heard from those beleaguered regions.

In Faelalan's room lay a plain oaken trunk, bound by iron straps. There is no lock on it, for there is truly nothing inside it that would interest a would-be robber. Old clothing from another time and of elven make is interred at the bottom, wrapped in yellowing tissue paper and lavender. On top of that are odds and ends; some of it broken jewelry that has no worth other than sentiment. Other parts of this "junk" consist of feathers and trinkets that she must have found pretty to behold.

Deocles,

Hello there, friend! Well, at least, I hope. This is assuming the raven that the raven took it to the correct person. If you are a scholarly man wit reddish hair and blushed when a raven dropped a letter on your lap while you were sitting at a desk and your name is NOT Deocles... Well, I apologize, but please give this letter back to the raven (her name is Eterúna) and send her on her way.