Dear Mother,
I am sorry to have left without a word of farewell. I am also sorry to have taken your sword and your armor, but in the hurry I packed what was in my reach.
Please understand, that I no longer can remain in Jarnsalr and around Bree, for wherever I go, I experience mocking words. I am kept the maid to deliver this and that. No one would take me serious in my words nor appreciate my efforts to bring good to the people, to learn from Whunjo's teachings to become some day a leader.
What good is a leader without the respect of his people?
I am not like you mother, who is respected by her service in combat and strength. I must find my own way and place to earn the recognition that I am worth something. But that is not in Jarnsalr or under the gaze of my uncles, nor of the folk of Bree.
I bid you, mother, do not follow me. I will go to the Elves in the hidden valley on the path that you once told me of. I hope they will teach me their wisdom and remember their friendship with our people to the time of Mandred Torkíldson.
I will write to you and father. Please, give him my love. You two should not worry, for I am well now.
In greatest and unending love,
your drakeling Frøydis
