3. Burned Letters

Burned Letters

  • I
    Council of Moradin

    Dear Anna,

    Now, and only now I see it clearly. It's interesting how these things work, after so long I can clearly see what really happened. You did not pushed me away, you protected me.

    At least, that's what I chose to believe.

    Not me, but that boy I was years ago. Things have changed, I'm no longer who I was and you …. well, certain things need not to be said. And it was your actions that pushed me away and into the world.

    Ah! The world. So cruel and just as magnificent as only it can be. Full of loneliness and desperately beautiful. A thing that is able to make the most fragile creature in the toughest of beings. That is happenning to me; I can feel it for quite some time.

    Time. For a long time I think of these things speak to you. There never was reason not to do this, but my own cowardice. If you do not like? If you do not want to know? These questions I left today and instead of trying to make excuses for not putting them down on paper, I decided to simply make it.

    Since I left our village, much has happened. These things have changed me, shaped me, made ​​me stronger. Some of them I have no pride. Others, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I liked being responsable for. I'll get to them all in one day. Do not know if it's my current state of drunkenness, or something else. My past seems to assault my memories right now, and you're the only one I want to share everything.

    If only you were still alive.

    If only I had arrived early.

    If only I had not left.

    If only you had told me you loved me.

    After finished, the letter is tossed in the tavern's fire and the man finds the courage to shut his eyes and sleep another night.

  • I
    Council of Moradin

    Dear Annna,

    There is one thing you need to know. Shortly after my troubled exit from our village, I wandered the world trying to find, trying to forget and,sometimes, just trying. Hunger, cold, loneliness, despair, pride, fear, my ingratitude were inseparable companions. It is interesting to realize that these things are as bad as they were able to create what I am today.

    Some years ago, in a forest unknown, the kind that is not and never will be the scene of any tale, completely consumed by hunger, I killed for the first time. She was a beautiful creature. I noticed her the first time at a glance, seemed shy and when I made a sudden movement, her beautiful long legs carried her away. Weak, I could not follow her nor explain myself.

    A few days later, there she was again. Suspicious and curious, seemed to want to find out what that strange and weak boy was in his forest. His big round eyes would not stop. Now staring at me, sometimes unnecessarily inspected the surroundings. I kept my eyes on the ground, determined not to frighten her again. I could hear her footsteps, one after another her feet advancing towards me.

    A few yards she stopped. I could not resist and looked directly into her big brown eyes and smiled …. She smiled back and walked away again, gallantly toward the heart of the forest. More like a dance between the trees than a race. She would come back, I knew at that moment ... and she did.

    It was next day. I gathered what was left of my strength and crawled to a nearby stream. I did my best to wash myself, used the small knife to cut the hair that grew rebelliously and put another set of clothes I was carrying with me. I wanted to impress her. Show those beautiful eyes a better view of what I had offered so far. She liked it.

    She came towards me without any restriction. I, seized by a sudden boldness, stretched my hand up and touched her face. She allowed. It was a long time I did not feel the warmth of another so close to me. I'd like to lie and say that a tear formed in my eye, but it did not happen.

    I offered a place at my side and she accepted. She smiled and gracefully sat beside me. We said nothing to each other until it was time to go, and she went. I almost could not hold the excitement I felt at our next meeting. Again, I prepared well. With the small knife I decided to shave and washed, the best I could, my clothes in the creek.

    The next day she came and unceremoniously stood beside me. She offered her face to me and I touched it. My hands wrapped her face as I brought closer. I held firmly, but gently. My right hand gently caressing her cheeks. She looked at me and once again, offered her best smile. I approached my face to hers, as the lovers do when they want to confide a secret to the loved one. I have no doubt that I loved her. Breifly and intensely, but it was love, at least a kind of love. She showed me that life was worth. My lips came close to his ear and found enough strength to whisper:

    - Forgive me.

    I brought her close with, and with my free hand wielded the knife that ran through her beautiful and long neck. She did not suffer, I'm sure of it. She gave me a sad look and her last, sad smile. She was dead. I do not remember ever hating me for that. As bad as the situation may seem, she had meat and I hunger. I cut her leg off, that beautiful and well made leg. I tore the skin and cut the muscle. I lit the fire and baked.

    I never ate a better deer in my whole life.

    Once again, the letter is tossed in the fire and the man finds his way into dreamland.