“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I don’t hate you anymore.”

Well, I only posted Eristor’s first letter yesterday and already its popularity is blooming! Most of my female readers – cough – wanted a more – ahem – romantic letter from my favorite killjoy, Eristor. So let’s see how my brooding prince does in making all you ladies swoon. ^.^(Honestly, it felt weird peeking this far into his future soul. I was definitely an intruder, and so will you be – just don’t tell him.)


The last time I sat down to write you, I felt as if I were being forced. This time it is different – I feel somehow compelled to pick up my pen. I have nothing to say –  nothing to say that will make sense to you, in any case, and yet I feel I must begin. The first moment I saw you (forgive my lack of chivalry) was not one of my more exemplary shining moments. I grow angry with myself at the very thought of it, and yet I felt myself perfectly justified at the time. You probably know by now that I am not the sort to beg forgiveness, particularly for past sins which cannot be rectified even now, so I will not. I will, however, attempt to express some feelings which are a continual puzzle to me in the hopes that you will find something understandable in them, and have more success doing so than I have.

I did not always like you. As a matter of plain fact, I begrudged your entire existence from the moment you first ran into me until… well, honestly I don’t know. Within the past several months, I have felt an odd sort of thawing in my view toward you. It is as if a veil of misconception was torn from my eyes and I can see you for what you truly are.

Do not be alarmed, it is not as horrific as you may think. We all have our imperfections, some of us more than most, but you have one very great advantage – you see them. You work to overcome them, rather than letting them envelope you as I have. I am not used to pointing out my own flaws… I suppose this is an apology after all? I’m beyond the point of caring. I have never cared what you thought of me, and I still do not live my life by your view, however I have come to realize that strangely, I want you to look kindly upon me. Why I should want this,  I don’t know.

Tylir is calling me a lovesick fool, but I do not believe his assessment is quite correct. ‘Fool’ is something I strive to avoid being at all costs, and as for ‘lovesick’ I do not agree with the term. I believe most people’s view on love is skewed and incorrect; an intangible emotion as fleeting as summer’s warmth. This, I can tell you, is not what I feel. I have come to admire your human ways which I do not understand. You are most likely reading this with an expression of bewilderment on your face, and rightly so for it would match the look on my own. Apparently, I can keep other people’s heads straight but not my own.

On second thought, I do not think I will even send this. Perhaps one day, when I know my own self, I will tell you to your face what I cannot seem to say now…

In which Eristor writes a letter

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.

Good evening.