Hrrrmmm... "Sand." "Rain." "River." Is he writing of
[cdb]the weather?
Are you all right, Petra? That's quite the noise that
[cdb]just came flying out of your diaphragm.
Linhardt, perhaps you can be helping me. This letter
[cdb]is giving me much difficulty.
A letter, is it? I was under the impression that you
[cdb]had no trouble reading the language of Fódlan.
I also had that thought, but this page is not making
[cdb]sense. Can you be reading it for me?
What? Oh, no, I couldn't. This is a private matter.
I mean, I don't even know who it's from.
But I cannot be writing back if I do not know what
[cdb]they are saying. Please do this favor for me.
Oh, very well. Let me have a look.
Goodness, no wonder you struggled with this—
[cdb]it couldn't be more archaic. Right, well, let me
[cdb]give this a shot. Ahem...
"Yon world is endless sand, and I but a parched grain
[cdb]e'er upon its bosom."
"O beauty! Was 't the western wind which brought
[cdb]thee hither, merciful rain? Soft, my river o'erfloweth!"
Hmm... Petra, is this a love letter?
That is a possibility? But I do not have certainty.
OK, you definitely should have mentioned that
[cdb]before I started reading this. Well, too late now,
I suppose...
Indeed.
I am blaming the letter. If no one can have
[cdb]understanding of it, the writer is a waster of paper.
Well, it's not that I don't understand so much as...
Look, let me just give this back to you.
You have understanding? You must be teaching me!
Oh, very well. The writer is using archaic speech to
[cdb]express his love for you through metaphor.
So much so that I would say they have gone and
[cdb]spoiled the whole thing.
So he has passion? I am pleased, although I have little
[cdb]knowledge of the letter's writer.
Really? From what he's written here, it sounds as if
[cdb]he sees you every day.
Also, the letter is absolutely rife with mistakes.
Take this passage, for example. I think he mentioned
[cdb]the western wind in an effort to evoke Brigid,
[cdb]but it's actually the southern wind that brings rain.
Besides which, the "merciful rain" is a gift from the
[cdb]goddess. This paramour of yours shouldn't
[cdb]be tossing such sacrilegious comparisons about.
And I won't even ask how a grain can be parched,
[cdb]let alone turn into an overflowing river.
The words have richness and color. I wish I could be
[cdb]reading them as well as you.
Trust me, it's nothing special. Well-crafted writing
[cdb]has layers—this just has apostrophes.
So, are you planning to write him back?
This has been a most painful lesson of how little I am
[cdb]knowing. I must be reading many books to study the
[cdb]old speech of Fódlan before making my reply.
I sure hope she doesn't plan on writing him back in
[cdb]the same style, or they're going to end up talking
[cdb]right past each other...