RP: Letters, Part 4

Shockingly enough, you should read Part 3 before delving in to this one.

I am beginning to wonder if I will ever again have a quiet day in my life. Yes, I have more to write about the humans, and I hope you are resigned to the topic by now, because the way things are going there shall be nothing else to discuss for some time. Today I was running an errand in the Cenarion Enclave when I caught scent of that strange human with the red eyes. His name is Conorrius, by the way, and I shall not forget it again. For some reason he had taken it upon himself to rest in the branches of a shop, and was several feet above my head when we first spoke. I cannot imagine what possessed him to go up there--I have never felt the need to climb a tree with no good reason. Have you? It always seemed slightly disrespectful.

But I digress. Leave it to the Druid to be distracted by plant matters. I ended up having a rather long conversation with this man, and unless you have seen things I cannot even fathom in your travels, you too will be surprised at what I am about to tell you. Apparently he is a half dragon! His father was a member of the Red Dragonflight, and his mother was human. The red whelpling who travels with him is named Rok, and is his adopted son. I quickly grew fond of Rok, which should not be surprising to you. He seems both playful and intelligent, and quite enjoyed perching on my shoulder. That, unfortunately, sent my poor Hawk Owl into a fit of nerves. She is so high-strung, and does not seem at all fond of the humans in general.

He was pleasant enough to talk to. He was interested in my previous experience with the Green Dragonflight, and whether or not I knew Draconic. It made me feel so young when I admitted I was unfamiliar with both. They seem to know very little of Druidic practice, which is likely why he thought it possible that I would have been through The Emerald Dream already. I refrained from telling him that it will be several centuries before I even begin to consider such a trip because I was afraid of making him feel akward. Though, in retrospect, it might not have-- do you know how long half-dragons live? Surely not for as short a time as humans do. He also asked if I had wanted to become a Druid, which gave me a bit of a start. I told him truthfully that I had never really thought about it, but certainly did not mind this calling. I hope you understand why I did not mention your role in my entering the Enclave. Only Manari knows of you, and even then has been given no details.

Conorrius also offered to teach me the Draconic tongue. I accepted, but I should tell you one thing that bothers me about his looks that would likely impede my ability to learn from him. I simply cannot tolerate his teeth. They are pointed, and he bares them often when speaking or smiling, so my eyes are always drawn to them. He had some advice to offer me, but his teeth drove me to distraction and made it difficult to listen. I lost my train of thought at least three times while we were speaking, though his suboordinates did not much help matters there, either. They spent most of their time tinkering with a mechanical animal, and left more than one burn mark on the lawn of the Enclave. (Knowing my luck I shall have to explain that to Fandral Staghelm personally.) They seemed nice overall, if a bit coarse. I believe they are related, for they have the same last name, but I could not quite gather how, and I don't want to guess in case humans trace lineage differently from our kind.

Conorrius used a word I was unfamiliar with when we were talking, and was cryptic when I asked for him to explain it to me. He of course took his leave without giving me an answer, so now I am thinking ceaselessly about all the possible definitions of the word. I am sure you know it, and would find my stress amusing, but I cannot help it. I do not understand what "flirting" means, and I do not want to ask one of the other humans. He tied it to young soldiers, and had previously been warning me to be prepared for a good deal of racism, so I assume it is related. What bothers me, though, is why specifically young soldiers? Do older soldiers flirt? And do non-soldiers flirt? And what, exactly does flirting entail? I wish you were here to give me the answer, and tell me if you ever experienced flirting. I am worried, because I have no idea what to expect, and more than a little displeased that I had not already come across this term during my study of Common. I lose faith in the Enclave's tutors day by day, it seems.

Once he left me to stew over the word, one of the pair, Andreu, fell asleep under a tree, despite the fact that there was a perfectly serviceable inn a short walk away. I understand it is good for soldiers to be used to sleeping outdoors, but why continue to do so when back within a city? The other, Joathen, I left sitting on the grass of the Enclave, looking at some sort of Gnomish book that seems to be called a "kamirah." However, as I was preparing to sleep, I opened my eyes, and he was standing in the middle of my room! I tried to be polite and direct him to the Inn, but he just stuttered at me and wandered off towards the center of the city. He left the book he said he was reading, too. Conorrius said he was "an odd one," so perhaps I should assume this is normal for him. Either way, I am now fully awake. I am not used to people entering my house when I have not invited them.

Humans are so very strange. If I have many more days like this one I shall become convinced there is no way I can ever understand them without going utterly mad first. How can these people make up an army? Our Sentinels are nothing like their soldiers in demeanor, and I cannot see how their fighting skills could possibly compare.

No. Thoughts like that are what keep Druids like Fandral Staghelm sullen and brooding as Teldrassil withers around them, instead of giving and seeking aid. I have been trained to believe that all life exists naturally in balance, and from that perspective there is no way Humans can really be all that different from my people. A shorter life span should not mean lesser intelligence or quality of character.

Ah, I smell the other male approaching my house. The day's events are clearly not over, though the hour grows late. It seems I must prepare for one more encounter.

Elune'adare. I am sure there will be more to tell you in an hour's time.