Venla Thiel
Lettucewielding foreman
The letter is plain, written on a single sheet of coarse, yellow paper. Venla’s hand is careful but unpracticed. The letters lean slightly, some taller than the rest, others crowded close as the pen reached the edge of the paper earlier than expected. The lines wander a little instead of staying in orderly lines, and here and there the ink has darkened where the pen lingered too long. A few words have been scratched out and written again. There is no seal to the letter, but it is wrapped with a thin leather string, looped twice and knotted.
It would be easy for someone to loosen it, read the letter, and bind it again without leaving much sign...
It would be easy for someone to loosen it, read the letter, and bind it again without leaving much sign...
Dearest Mother and to my brothers,
I hope this letter finds you all well and hearty, with the days going along as they ought.
I think of home more often than I mean to, and sometimes I catch myself counting the small things I miss.
The smell of warm malt in the morning, the comfort of knowing how tomorrow will look before it comes,
and the sound of voices that know mine.
I am well, truly I am, and safe besides. Please don’t let your hearts trouble over me. I do not regret setting out,
not even on the duller days, for this journey has taught me things I would never have learned by staying.
Astenvale Drachenberg is the most beautiful city I have ever set eyes upon. All stone worn soft and
height and old secrets in the walls. Still, I cannot yet say it feels like home, and perhaps that
is no fault of the place. Some places perhaps take longer to settle.
Do not fret over me. I eat enough, sleep enough, and my hands are kept busy, even if the work is not the sort we know at home.
Still, I won’t pretend every day is full to the brim. There are long hours here, and much silence, and sometimes it sits heavy in
the long corridors. A place can be beautiful and still feel far away, and some evenings stretch longer than they ought to.
I was in the kitchen the other day and baked bread there, and mother, you would laugh to see their oven!
It is the biggest I have ever known, wide as a cave! The bread turned out well enough, and I shared it with a kind,
if somewhat odd fellow named Trevor, who seemed very pleased by it.
Do not worry for me, I promise you. I keep myself steady. I carry you all with me, every step, and when the nights grow
too quiet, I think of hearthlight and the people that know me.
Give my love to everyone, and tell the dogs I miss them daily. I will write again soon, I promise.
All my love,
Venla
I hope this letter finds you all well and hearty, with the days going along as they ought.
I think of home more often than I mean to, and sometimes I catch myself counting the small things I miss.
The smell of warm malt in the morning, the comfort of knowing how tomorrow will look before it comes,
and the sound of voices that know mine.
I am well, truly I am, and safe besides. Please don’t let your hearts trouble over me. I do not regret setting out,
not even on the duller days, for this journey has taught me things I would never have learned by staying.
height and old secrets in the walls. Still, I cannot yet say it feels like home, and perhaps that
is no fault of the place. Some places perhaps take longer to settle.
Do not fret over me. I eat enough, sleep enough, and my hands are kept busy, even if the work is not the sort we know at home.
Still, I won’t pretend every day is full to the brim. There are long hours here, and much silence, and sometimes it sits heavy in
the long corridors. A place can be beautiful and still feel far away, and some evenings stretch longer than they ought to.
I was in the kitchen the other day and baked bread there, and mother, you would laugh to see their oven!
It is the biggest I have ever known, wide as a cave! The bread turned out well enough, and I shared it with a kind,
if somewhat odd fellow named Trevor, who seemed very pleased by it.
Do not worry for me, I promise you. I keep myself steady. I carry you all with me, every step, and when the nights grow
too quiet, I think of hearthlight and the people that know me.
Give my love to everyone, and tell the dogs I miss them daily. I will write again soon, I promise.
All my love,
Venla