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Dear Fiyero:
It has been years since the last time we met. I hope you and your wife are well and happy.
There is no need to be nervous when you receive this letter. Your safety is secure—where the letter would be is a mystery to me. It was just some tricky magic that I finally acquired.
Thanks to the Grimmerie gifted me by Elphie and the Hat I gave her with no good intent, dropped by her ultimately. Since she and I were both the owners of the hat, with a subtle spell, the wind took the letter to the other one's location. And no one could track it down; not even the caster herself can catch its trail.
At the outset, I intended to write this letter to Ephie, but after a few discarded drafts, I gave up. Talking to the other acquaintance was relatively easy.
I know you don't trust me, which is perfectly natural. I hardly trust myself, either. Sorry about the disservice I have done to both of you. Not a day goes by that I don't regret it.
All in all, I believe it is best to start with an overview of the situation in Oz in recent years. After all, it was once both of your hometowns (although it may not give you many amiable memories), and I know Elphie still cares though she claimed not anymore.
—With the departure of the Wizard and the imprisonment of Madam Morrible, the ferment in Oz subsided gradually. The Gale Force was disbanded, and the Animal Adverse laws had long since been repealed. People now are more broad-minded. Strife by prejudice and hostility declines yearly. Generosity and diversity blossom in this land again in the whole scheme of things.
Nevertheless, there is still a long way to go. Vested interests won't stop pursuing the sweet blood they had once been provided, and the ripped wounds can't heal easily. Political persecutions have Animals kept skeptical and wary of human beings. Some of them still refuse to come back and withdraw from society completely. But gladly, the Animals are free to speak again.
May Dr. Dillamond in heaven rest in peace and the old time he missed will come back soon.
Yes, of course, I still remember Dr. Dillamond and his words interrupted by me. I know it wasn't entirely sincere, back there when I said I'd changed my name for him (and I assume you were both aware of that but chose to keep it a secret out of politeness and tolerance). But after the meeting with the Wizard and parting with Elphie, his appearance and words I used to ignore deliberately kept popping up unbidden in my head.
Here I think I might start to brag myself: although it sounds a little cheeky, I was not as shallow and brainless as you thought — or as I appeared to be.
I've always known what Dr. Dillamond was trying to say. I knew something was happening in OZ. And I knew our revered Wizard was by no means a gracious and generous Santa.
But, I am a Gillikinese, a woman from the Upperuplands. My beautiful, flowery life had been written on the crumpled parchment of fate from the moment I was born. An upper-class young lady with a prevalent lovely face. A sophisticated socialite lavishing on luxurious balls. A good wife to a wealthy man with fame and power. The only place I needed, or allowed to show my brain, was the dancing floor. Where I came on the stage in a revealing gown and heavy accessories, holding a crystal goblet filled with Pertha wine, waltzing around with the dignitaries, courting the bigwigs, along with my flamboyant husband.
Dazzling but hollow smiles are my characters and my weapons, as well as those ornate yet superficial phraseologies.
Like all the other women from our class, beautiful, popular, snobbish, and superior, those are the innate labels we are born with and are not allowed to be torn off. It is an instinct for us to defend the interests of our family and the entire privileged class, while those interests also serve as a kind of silver shackles for us.
That's why I could not remain indifferent when Dr. Dillamond mispronounced my name, and I must intervene as he started those "reactionary" speeches, for the benefit of our class, for the rule of the Great Wizard of OZ. And if you are willing to believe, it was also for the safety of Dr. Dillamond himself and us naive students.
However, I didn't think that much at the time. For women like us, thinking is a treacherous habit. It might break the pretty crystal ball, shred everything we've been indoctrinated into, and shatter the splendid illusion to which we were attached. Back then, my stupid and mean words were just a plain Pavlovian Effect, a resignation to the latent rule of the deep-rooted social structure.
How ironic, doctors came to academies determined to dismantle the ignorance of the gullible, unpolishing young, yet were entangled with the manufactured, sophisticated stupidity.
Fortunately, one person dared to step forward, strip away the pretense and tear a path from the web of vile lies with pure goodness.
Unfortunately, it was too late for Dr. Dillamond.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the gut to follow her. For myself is a drip of venom on the decaying web; parting from it, I didn't know whether I could survive or who I was.
Speaking of the path, I happen to think of the cub you rescued in Dr. Nikidik's class, who experienced many adventures and carved out a new life along with dangers and friendships—the most beautiful gains in growth, right? I suppose he should remember the braverism of two compassionate students who went to great lengths to help him. And that braverism has given him the strength to face a strange world full of vicious stingers.
It took me long to understand the aspirations and ambitions you've held. Shame, not only did I not dare to break my golden cage, but I also wanted to keep you two with me to rot in the empty illusion of splendor. I was too selfish and weak to give up all the vanity I was courting, too blind and superficial to follow the brave's lead. Thank goodness, she was not appeased by the hypocritical kindness. Thank goodness you chose to stand by her side and no longer solitude would go with her. You deserve each other, I bless you sincerely. Last time it was not, haha.
Sorry, not funny.
I wonder how Elphie is. She was always skinny and malnourished. I hope you have taken good care of her. I once had a plan to feed her more at Shiz but never made around to it. Later on, every encounter with her was always brief and distressing, ending in rage and heartbreak. Through the inconsolable arguing, I caught a glimpse of her exhaustion and fragility, yet could do nothing.
I came to see Nessa recently and bought a lily for her in Elphie's name. Wait, better not bring up Nessa to Elphie lest her grief revival.
In fact, Nessa loved her deeply, sadly both of the sisters didn't realize it. She was unduly reliant on the excessive love and protection Elphie gave her, yet also hated this kind of overwhelming attention. Secular prejudice is a poisonous swamp in which her thirst for freedom can bear no juicy fruits, but only thorns full of jealousy prickles. And all the intricate emotions had erupted into grudges when her sister left her behind, leaving her to the venomous whispering of the herd.
Then, with the death of her beloved father, the only one she had was Boq, so she clutched him desperately like seizing the last straw. Whereas Boq was under no obligation to share in her love and hate. The more emotion she poured on him, the more resentment she got. She had never been satisfied. The two of them were unable to seek solace in one another; one longed for liberation, while the other longed for the opposite.
I should stop yakking about the past. Those days had long gone.
Shiz University invites me to give lectures to freshmen and graduates every few years. When I attended this year, they also invited me to a party. With the interlaced silhouettes against the shining lights, I suddenly went back to a certain night many years ago, when I stepped out of the empty golden cage for the first time and let a radiant green dye the rotten parchment. Back then, the sudden soft music and light, the dance of the crowds, all seemed to celebrate it, even the whole sky is brighter for us.
At this very moment, I sit beneath the tranquil moonlight, contemplating the glimmering stars, yet can't feel the beauty of the quiet everlasting of the sky.
Time flies, youth has passed from me for years. Memories become vague and cunning. I can't articulate how many years you've left, yet always remember the days we were at Shiz vividly. Those were such happy times. We laughed and danced our way toward everything. Difficulties and troubles were simply items on a to-do list for tomorrow.
Those were, without a doubt, the most wonderful days of my whole life. However, I suppose Elphie wasn't as indulged as she should have been, and I was to blame. I have always wished her a more flourishing prospect and, most importantly, to be happy. She deserves better—better than me, better than everyone who has wronged her.
The memories of the Witch of West have also been hazy to the folks of Oz likewise. Maybe someday, you'll come back, kissing freely at some central park. Nobody will show any dissent, only the sincere blessing. So do I.
Your humble old friend