I know. I bet you never expected to see a letter written by my favorite elven prince. And yet, here you are – I am tipping your world on its axis again and Eristor is doing the unthinkable. This was an EXCELLENT idea from Rosamund Gregory, more or less an accompaniment to each month’s ‘Beautiful People’ exercises. Your character must write a letter (or possibly journal entry) from their own point of view. I was considering Eristor as a candidate for this month, but then Abigail requested it (she said she was joking, but I sensed it was not entirely a jest…. ^.^) therefore, here you have Eristor. Writing a letter. Oh dear. (I have no idea why Sienna is away, but Eristor is pretending to be MUCH more put-out than he really is, I think.)
Please tell me you requested news without the knowledge that I would be the only candidate who would write. I know you don’t actually care whether or not I’m enjoying this – relaying useless bits of information to you for the sake of your own curiosity, that is – so I won’t bother telling you that it is aggravating and also gives me the sudden urge to sharpen my kelehb sticks. Or go for a ride. Or throw rocks in the lake. But I digress.
Your brother has been amusing himself by poking Krit with a stick. Krit does not appreciate the attention and keeps shifting away, but Alec is persistent. Apparently it amuses him to hear Krit threaten to tear his ears off with his teeth. I would almost agree with him – threats from a talking cloud of fluff are somewhat amusing – but the constant bickering does little to improve my mood. (Which was fine until I was told by Tylir I was the only one with time to write you, I might add. I once again have the urge to throw rocks…)
You may be curious as to why I am the only available author of a letter. This is because Tylir and Salebeth are hunting down our evening meal (I assume it is still too fresh to eat, considering it ran through camp not half an hour ago). Treefist downright refused to write you, claiming he had no business corresponding with a young human girl due to propriety. After further probing, I discovered he actually does not know how to read or write. Much to my annoyance.
Alec is another story entirely. When I mentioned it was his duty to write you since you are, after all, siblings, he quipped “Nah, you do it. It’ll be good for you.” I cuffed him on the ear (don’t worry, he only bled a little and regained consciousness after a few moments) and sat down to write you even though there was no real news to tell.
There you have it. I hope you consider this a letter, because if not, there is nothing I can – or will – do about it.