17:57 20/10/2020

To my dear…

I caught the rail carriage today, making my way home from my mother’s keep. It explains why my handwriting is so messy (since all my work is handwritten first). Damned carriage is shaking and swaying like a madman at the helm. At least I know the ride will only be this rough for the beginning of the journey. Once the carriage is out of the countryside and into the city, it’s smooth sailing.

As I hopped into the carriage, I heard a commotion inside. A man and a woman. Loud. I couldn’t tell the content of their words, nor the intent. They were foreigners. Elves. Just like us, my darling. But when I found my seat inside the car, their callings became more clear. Goodbyes. And farewells. Their excitement wasn’t aggression. Nothing ill of sorts. It was something else just as powerful.

The woman had already made her way outside the carriage. But still, the two were in an excited exchange of words. As if there were an urgency. The carriage hadn’t left just yet. When the man took his seat, they stopped their words. But still, they talked. Outside, she stood. Inside, he sat. But together, their eyes embraced. And for that quick moment, they watched each other. Carefully. Ensuring that the other was okay.

In that moment, I recognized what I was witnessing. The most innocent and yet the most guilty of emotions. The very one thing that could encourage a man to live, or drive a man to death. And what I was seeing was the former. I saw the will to continue. The will to go on. In hopes that one day, they would see each other again. The concern in their manner. That focus they held. You could tell that the only thing on their mind was the other. The moment only lasted a few seconds. But I swear, what I saw lasted lifetimes. I was only a bystander. I only experienced an outside perspective. But I won’t deny that in that moment, time stopped for me too. Because I, too, recognized how they felt.

Everything he didn’t try to show only revealed what he was truly feeling.

The carriage doors began to close. It was the coming of the end. Of their moment. The man stood suddenly. He inched closer to her. Lest he never got the chance again. But his eyes never lost sight of her. And nor did hers lose sight of him. I saw the slight distress in his expression. He didn’t show it on his face. He didn’t need to. Everything he didn’t try to show only revealed what he was truly feeling. Any man could recognize that ounce of pain. It was the manly thing to do. To not show suffering. And the woman outside. She did what women do well. She smiled for him.

As the rail carriage began to move, they never once looked away. Only until they were finally out of sight. I saw the man pause for a moment. I saw him try to capture that memory of her. Cherish it. All before he stepped about, and took a different seat.

These two were already past their ripening years. Not far past. But they weren’t young. It would be wrong to call them a young man and young woman. And even more incorrect to call them a boy and girl. But from the pure innocence of what I saw, anybody could mistake them for a boy and girl.

They were elves too. It wasn’t common for elves to look each other in the eye. Too much of elvish culture and history didn’t permit that. It stemmed from respect to the emperor. And also never looking up in the presence of authority. But it also came from the acknowledgement of the power of the eyes. Those windows of the soul. I’ve stepped foot in a many elvish homes, and have yet to see eyes in full engagement. Even in your home, my darling, I don’t think I’ve yet seen it. Or noticed it, at least. Not to say it didn’t exist. But maybe that’s what makes it more precious. The rarity. Of meeting eyes.

My heart and soul are only prized to those who win the privilege.

I remember the feeling I saw those two share. A feeling I haven’t felt in centuries. A feeling that, to me, is still so precious. Because to me, sharing my soul is no common occurrence. I do not fit in well with the current trends and practices. Frequent courtships. Those who know me well would agree. I’m not the type who offers himself on the open market. My heart and soul are only prized to those who win the privilege. While everybody else is fed the decoys. The pretty untruths left outside for the treacherous jackals.

So, while I am not searching for such precious moments again, a man does wonder. Will I ever feel that again? Those two made me wonder. The last time I’d experienced such moments was with you, my darling. But those are old stories we need not talk about ever again.

I can at least rest happy, knowing that I’ve experienced such moments. Once. I’ll cherish them forever. And so, I hope the rest of the worlds can, at least once, experience such moments with another.

The carriage has finally arrived in the capital. And so, the end of this letter. It’s been a long while since I’ve written to you. Whether you read them or not, I hope to do so again.

Love from yours truly

Daniel Roy