The Continuing Woo

Dearest Sandro,

I have yet to hear your response to my proposal. I do not worry, for I have been on the move all Winter and did not expect your message to find me easily. I am currently training in Egypt and do not expect to return until Spring. It is pleasant here ... and because of my association with Kheops, I am a "Friend of the Kingdom" and enjoy unparalleled freedom for a foreigner. I have found the loveliest gold brooch inlaid with turquoise that I will pin to your breast upon our next meeting. Yet this is but a trifle compared to the riches I intend to shower you with: the gold will pour from your hair to pile at your feet and your peers will go blind with envy when the Welsh sun focuses through the countless gems into brilliant beams to scorch their retinas! I love you, love you, love you!

No doubt you recall I have spoken of our party's latest recruit, the irritating Vexatious (Yes, Sandro, in Elvish, "irritating" and "vexatious" are indeed synonymous! Rest assured, she is no competition. Helmut delivered a wicked insult at her expense just the other day. He said, "If you were lying in the sand, my pet displacer kitties would mistake your for shit and try to bury you!" Ha! Very droll. Subtle as well, as Egypt has much sandy terrain and a notorious love affiar with felines. Helmut was no doubt warning Vexatious that Egypt may mean the end of her sorry life, slain at the hands of locals and her corpse left to rot on some abandoned beach.

He pummels her constantly with insults. Truth be told, I sometimes wonder if he does not insult her too much. I fear he may grow to enjoy her company if he continues to find merriment in her presence, no matter that merriment's original intent. I must never make that mistake. I feel it in my bones: if we let our guard down, she will rob us blind. She eyes my lucky ring with the same infatuous lust that she once reserved for Faust's magic crossbow. And, she is always writing in a journal of her own ... but with an intensity and calculation that makes me uneasy. Sandro, will you forgive me If I ever have to slay one of our own kind, and a female at that? Let us hope that day never comes.

If I have not heard from you by the Spring equinox, I will visit. It is near impossible to find a pretty elf face in this distant land, and anyway, yours is the only gaze that makes me happy. Will I find you in your fields, sowing the land with life and laughter? I will keep that image in mind until then.

With love,
Fjord