A Letter

Respected Ariellie.

Thank you for your inquiry. I’m doing well. I always am. Why should I allow circumstances to dampen my spirits? Do not think me cold; you know how I loved my mother. But I have learned how to deal with pain. I push it aside and push through. I am all right. I always am.

Respected, I am about to tell you something that may alarm you, so be assured that I have considered this carefully. Everything has been thought out and I know my choice is right. I will use the sum of gold that my mother left me to travel the world. I cannot stay here. Please know how difficult this is for me to write, how I am in agony as my hand pens this. But no – as I said, I am doing well. It is not great agony.

I am half-elven. You know this. I cannot fit in here; I never have. You, of course, have always made me feel welcome. I know I can trust you. But as I’ve told you before, I do not completely belong among humans.

There is something – a yearning I cannot describe – that drives me outward, away from the islands, into the world. I must see the ocean, I must climb the mountains, I must sway at the tips of the tallest trees. I must unravel mysteries, uncover myths. I must find my father.

Do not laugh – no, you know I am serious, you would not laugh. Perhaps it seems impossible to find him. Perhaps it is. I’ve no leads, no way to track him in this wide world. But I am always thinking of him. He must be somewhere. If he can be found, I will find him.

I cannot tell you where I’m going, lest this letter fall into the wrong hands. You know already. Back to the beginning. The last place. Remember, Arielle? Remember the story I’ve told you so often? The daisy chain, the hawk, the last words. The details and the place itself are forever burned into my memory. They’ve branded me, they’ve forced me to wander. It must become a part of who I am now. Verya the Wanderer.

Á enyalë.

May we meet again.