Work Text:
Dammon, Master Smith: Forge of the Nine,
In response to your latest and most ardently appreciated letter, I send a parcel which dearly hope has not been separated from this missive. As the new caretaker of a monumental arcane assemblage, I have discovered among the relics of Ramazith a number of powerful instruments. It is my pleasure to pass along one such item to you now.
You mentioned, in previous correspondence, some frustration with your forge not sustaining a high enough temperature to work with infernal alloys. Enclosed is a wand charged with several uses of a potent evocation which should prove helpful. I've no doubt your capable hands will make fine use of a spell called Fireball, and hope you will not take my caution as disparage toward your extraordinary skill or expertise. But do be careful. Lia nearly burnt down the tower with it the other day. I should despair to see my presumptive gesture bring you or your forge any harm.
Simply encant the words engraved upon the wand to activate it. There will, of course, come the time when its charges are expended, upon which l would be happy to refill it for you. I remain always and eagerly at your disposal, and you are most welcome to call at the tower whenever you should wish.
And Cal wants to cook dinner for you, he insists me to include.
Yours in most heartfelt sincerity,
Rolan, Archmage: Ramazith Tower
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Rolan,
I love the wand. I love even more to hear from you. As much as I appreciate the gift, I hope you don't feel obligated to give me such valuable things. I'm only a blacksmith. I'm afraid can't reciprocate equally. Besides, your attention more than counts. don't have your way with words, so can't tell you exactly how it makes me feel to find a letter from you waiting for me in the mailbox. For the rest of the day I'm distracted.
I've never been able to think of anything but work; it's all l've ever been driven toward. A one-track mind for my craft is my biggest problem, according to many. You seem to have solved it. I'm not sure how you do this to me. Please continue. It's nice to think of something other than steel and fire and impatient customers. Nicer still when the subject is you.
Don't worry, though, I haven't forgotten about your commission. All my focus has gone to making it my best piece yet. I don't think I've ever forged a finer Sword. I'm sure it'll do well for Lia's birthday. I very much hope so, anyway.
I thought, though, rather than trusting it to a courier, perhaps could deliver it in person? If that's alright. know it must keep you terribly busy, being a very important Archmage. But if we could all find time, I'd love to take Cal up on that offer.
l'd love to see you.
Yours,
Dammon
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Dammon, Master Smith: Forge of the Nine,
To say that delight to read such words penned from your hand is understatement most heinous. We all shall be pleased to welcome you to the tower; you need not even ask. If it is not too audacious of me, shall tell Cal to expect your company tomorrow evening.
Perhaps this shall alleviate both of our issues with waning focus. I find myself with similar experiences regarding my work, which is constantly disrupted by my, frankly, embarrassing musings of you. Cal and Lia have told me it is impossible to pry me away from my studies, and yet, of late there is no book or scroll that can hold my attention for very long at all.
Forgive me if this seems forward—l know no other means of honesty—but if it should not offend you, and should be forgiven a brief lapse of dignity, I would tell you that your weight in my thoughts daily grows at a rate cannot control. That this ache which you afflict me with is nothing wish to be Cured of. I would tell you that it alarms me. That perhaps it is time we both should address it. So it is more the better that you're paying a visit. Perhaps we shall be afforded an opportunity to talk.
My most ashamed apologies once again for having been precipitant in stating my feelings. I find it increasingly difficult to refrain.
Audaciously yours,
Rolan, Archmage: Ramazith Tower
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Rolan,
It's been three weeks since your last letter. I don't know if you've gotten any of mine, or if you don't want them any more. I'm afraid they only distress you. So this will be my last one, until you respond. If I crossed a line, if I did wrong by you, I'm sorry. I know you're rather traditional about all this. I never meant to cause you discomfort. I want to be a source only of joy to you. I don't know all the etiquette or what's proper. I never had cause to learn any of that. But if you'd like, I can try. There's not much I wouldn't learn if you wanted me to. If it meant you'd write me back.
I thought things went so well at dinner. I came home that morning happier than I'd ever been. Nervous, but happy. You told me that night that you could no longer bear holding back your feelings. That it was torture not to admire me freely. Why would you stop, then, right when you've begun? When we've begun. Whatever we may be. I wanted to discover it with you together. I still do. I need no further courting. Rolan I will be forward, I am desperate to adore you. To give you something special. To be good to you.
I just hope you're alright. If know that, the silence would be bearable. Not knowing is what tears at me. If you want to stop our exchange, just tell me, would you? Perhaps my heart may break, but at least it would stop eating itself alive.
Please. I beg.
Dammon
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My dear Dammon,
I beg your forgiveness. To hurt you was the last thing I would ever wish to do. I've done it anyway. For that I can not understate that I am deeply sorry. The reason for my silence, though not at all even close to a good one, was plain and simple shame. Weakness. Embarrassment.
You must understand that no one has ever seen me so exposed. It is mortifying to allow oneself such deep vulnerability in the eyes of another. I felt you should think me, at best, a rakish drunkard, and at worst, a burdensome weight you'd wish to avoid shackling yourself with. What I failed to realize is that my insecure assumptions would assign to you some awful qualities which you have never once shown yourself to possess.
You are, undoubtedly, the most kind and honest man have ever been honored to know. You are gentle, patient, considerate and good. And should have thought of all that above my own fears. I would consider myself fortunate simply to remain in your life, much less to be in any way significant in it. Rather I fear what life has plagued me with many a time: a promising beginning leading to a terrible end, brought about by my own failings.
I shall not assign the scars of my life to you. Dammon, whatever we begin, I promise you that I will remember how singular and extraordinary it is. It would be my privilege and honor to make it up to you. If you can forgive me, and should you by some miracle find the idea not to be repulsive, I should love very dearly to see you again.
Rolan
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A hastily scribbled note lies on a bedside table, reading simply:
I love you.