A Letter Lost

[Notic 953]

[!] The sun of Malin's Welcome bore a warm touch upon the LAND OF THE WEE, the heat tempered by a cool breeze that washed across the river and rolled over the grassy hill homes of the halfling race. A letter sat, tucked in a small container made of rabbits hide, in the dirt road at the village's entrance. A farmer, passing by the oddity, bent down to inspect its contents. He groaned as his back ached from years of hard labor. With a slow lumber, he lifted the container into his hands and removed its contents. Finding no address on the letter within, he took it to the Town Hole, where he nailed it to the message board so that the message might find its recipient. 

 

Dear Dolly,

 

I'm far off now. I think it's been a stone's toss past twenty years, but I find that I often wander on the road and forget to write home. When I left, I didn't think I'd bother. It was only supposed to be a brief jaunt home, and now I find that I shall likely never return. When I departed from port to venture northward, I sent another letter, though I believe that it was lost, as you never wrote back. I do hope that this letter finds you, if nothing else. It is likely the last one I will write before I venture on the final step of my pilgrimage.

 

I have embraced Arkaknox, in his true form, over the false idols taught to us by the Thainship. The truth of Arkaknox was lost, and he was erased and left to die. Twenty years ago, he spoke to me, and now I see fit to answer his call and fulfill my destiny in his name. I intend to venture into the deepest sanctums of his power, for there are few bastions that he has command over against the new gods of our kind, and these bastions are far between. Many have been lost. If I survive this trial, I shall inform you at once and return to the village bearing truth. If I should fail, then I ask to be forgotten from all memory, for it is Arkaknox's wish that the weak perish from thought so that the strong may rise and make our race great once more.

 

In my travels, I found a youth of our bloodline. The son of your sister, Lily, though he told me that he did not know of anyone else within our line. He told me his tale. He was raised, briefly, by his father Hob until he was lost. He does not know the details, but he believes that he was separated in a storm around the age of six. He told me that he can recall another in his family, as well as his father, but the memories of those days have long since faded. He has lived a treacherous life, and currently works as a bard. I have given him a map to Dunfarthing and ask that he make your acquaintance. I do not know when, or if, he will arrive.

 

Stay strong, Dolly. You never needed me. Give Jo my regards.

 

Sincerely,

 

Griff Peregrin.