You old rascal. Did you know when you sent me out from Y’oda to intercept your friend that you were sending me directly into a warzone? Whether or not you actually knew, that was the effect that it had. Cherlindria and I set out, as you saw, from the docks amid a decent fanfare from the gulls and waves, but none at all from yourself. I remember seeing you in a blue light from above, but blame the effects of my morning draught for that.
In any case I had a nice conversation with one of the gulls as we slowly sailed out of sight. He is of the opinion that you are a rogue and a bounder, but at the time I disagreed with him vociferously. I think the other passengers think me a little mad, but as is usual I don’t allow them to get me down.
I did consider allowing the captain to join me in my draught, but after the last time it was only a passing consideration. Mostly I think people are just interested in what I am having, and not wanting to join me.
And I am not interested in spending another six months stranded on a deserted isle.
The morning dawned a brilliant lime green speckled here and there with the sound of milk and the taste of bird song. It was a glorious dawn, and I felt it would be an auspicious start to my search for Rell. Little did I know, once again, that you would be sending him a pigeon and telling him to meet me at the docks in Haven.
I seem to say that a lot, but I did know little of your behavior before this journey. I considered you a friend and would have thought myself well met in your company, but you are a rascal and a fraud…but I said rascal before didn’t I.
I know, I am losing my touch for prose, and will have to consider sending my next missive to you in verse. How would it begin?
You goat of an elf,
But then I would be stuck rhyming elf….of course I could always end the line in goat…but then I am stuck with goat for a rhyming word. That and mother would never forgive me for putting you in a poem that found a rhyme for goat.
It seems she has more respect for her elders than I do my great ad nauseum grandfather.
I know that statement makes you feel old, but like I told you last time, it’s your age that makes you feel old, I just drive the point home.
Why mother wanted me to actually spend time in your company I will never know. I can only assume that you are better behaved with your great ad nauseum granddaughter’s than your much more rambunctious grandsons.
Of course, in a moment of rare sobriety I might just self-examine and assume it is simply me that you behave thus with. I shall never know since there are no such moments since that horrid six months by the sea. I still shudder at the memory of those long dreary days and nights, alone, with nothing but my own music to keep me company.
The human is pretty enough to be an elf. In fact there are many elf maids I know that are less attractive. Had you not told me that I was to be meeting with a man, I might just have embarrassed the two of us and attempted to woo the boy.
I still might.
As of my reporting here, he is none the worse for wear, his long overland journey notwithstanding. He seems a bit thin, but as I never met him before this, I do not know whether it is just him, or something to do with his journey.
He tells me that Greminor refused to send a pigeon for him or he would have sent word previously as to his condition. I get the impression that he had still not gotten over his anger at the world at that point, and was not as…cordial as Greminor usually requires.
To hear Rell tell it, the alchemist would not accept even a hundred thousand Wolven to send one. Rell must have pissed him off severely to achieve that response.
But war, oh war. Nothing has prepared me for the reality. Even my draught does not insulate me from the horror. The colors are just more vivid and real to me. I shall never forget my fist battlefield, wreathed at it was in purple and red and orange and pain.
Pain is a very real color here in Timiro, and it is not just my draught that makes it so. You can see it there in the houses and the streets, let alone the faces of the people
I weep nightly for the dead, and wake the next morning to find more destruction. It seems we are following the path of a mighty army of orcs, and I know not what Rell thinks. There is a grimness in him, and I wonder if he feels responsible for this carnage. There are rumors among the common people that CrIsis sent this plague upon them.
I can’t believe it is true from what you told me of the group, but they do serve the church of Light and Darkness, so could this possibly be part of the balance of their work? The evil to support their good?
I would discount this all as lies but for Rell’s behavior.
The pigeon I send with this message will go with my worry of the populace. I do what I can to ease pain and heal the sick, and I am not alone in this. Rell is tireless in his attentions to the suffering here in Timiro.
On a happier note, I have recorded another little love song from among the people here. The woman I asked about it got an entirely wrong idea that I failed to dissuade before Rell and I left and I found the learning of the song to be very enjoyable. That brings my total of collected love songs to four hundred ninety three. By my tally, and if you haven’t discovered any new ones since we last spoke, that puts me a mere forty three behind you. I will collect more than you, and soon.
Your loving great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson, Ferrel Fesqueue
Posted by Ferrel Fesqueue, bard, lover of women, and all around nice guy on a day which will hereafter go down in history as the 2nd of Thoth in the fifth year of said Ferrel’s search for more love songs than Malkin Falimede
Image by Mukumbura as shared on Flickr