January 20,
1218
Hello Brant:
Another New Year has come and gone and I'm still an outcast with no
sign of ever being reprieved. Sometimes, I just don't get it. Why do
you -- who leads the not-even-close-to-loyal-opposition against Her
Royal Majesty -- get to continue to live in town while I have to live
out here? It's enough to make a bard scream, I swear it is.
This year I'm going to learn crocheting like my grandmother used to do
when I was a small one. She'd make these multi-colored turtles and
bears and birds which she would give to us to play with. I can remember
waking up on a cold night and having her heat me a glass of goat milk,
which tasted better then than it does now, probably because she added
sugar to it. I haven't seen her in years -- guess I should visit her
before she dies.
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My childhood
memories remind me of the differences between the rest of
the covenant and me. It's hard to believe how violent and bloodthirsty
they've become in the last few months. They really seem to have it in
for midgets and go out of their way to murder them. They think it's ok
since their victims will be resurrected.
I know what you'd say: they're a different culture and I should not
view them through the lenses of our culture. But I can't help it. Even
the Christian folk are quite brutal. I know we have our own flaws too
and I'll have to learn to look past theirs. I hope I don't become like
them. Goddess save me!
Your friend,
Larissa the Bard |