|Dearest Row III|
|Summary:||A letter from Rowan Nayland to Eustace Rivers, care of the Three Keys Inn, King's Landing|
|Date:||22/7/2011 (OOC Date)|
|Related Logs:||Dearest Row I and II|
|Somewhere on the road to Stonebridge|
|Day 22, Seventh Month, 288|
Gods be good, such excitement in both our lives. Your letter made me giggle and guffaw until my sides hurt and there were tears in my eyes. You always could do that. It also made me (as Kiran predicted) want to tear it to shreds and cram it down your throat. You always could do that, too.
But it's only occurred to me now that your play goes up the on the same day our tournament begins! So while you are dodging Good King Bob's Goblet of Drunken Pique (or, far more likely, the coin he'll shower you with after seeing Kittibelle's magnificent breasts), I'll be seeing to my knight. And getting the piss beat out of me, in my own right. Huzzah. I really mean that.
And speaking of him, thrice damn you for being so — so… impertinent! I… you know — well, you probably don't, but I'll tell you — you know that you can bleed rather copiously and never feel the wound until someone points it out? Well, it's true. Had it happen more than a few times. So. Thank you, brother, my darling, for pointing out my bleeding. The pain is quite intolerable, I assure you.
I wish I could tell you at length about how nobly he offered to release me from my duties, and how I bald-faced told him my heart. Things are getting bad between the Terricks and our kin, sweeting. He didn't want me to have to fight my own. He can't imagine, I suppose, that they'd strike me down — you down, either of us — without much thought. Blood means something to the Terricks.
Yes, yes, I know I left you twisting in the wind with the 'told him my heart' bit. My heart, but no who I am. He heard the words and took only half their meaning.
It's enough. It has to be.
I am not a coward. Shut your silly gob.
There's no time to write more now, alas — as you can see by the condition of the parchment, it's raining and muddy on the road to Stonebridge. People are stiring, eager to get back on the road and out of the rain, before a warm hearth. I love you immensely and will write again soon as I'm able.
Until then, I remain,
Your loving sister,