<Another Letter, Recently Put By.>
Dearest El,
Life moves on without you, though it does so slowly. I have buried myself, not in combat, but in the happiness of others. My friends know, I think; one certainly does and has expressed this knowledge quite openly. Still, they do not stop me as I think they fear that doing so will lead to worse things. They are probably right.
It is easier to bury myself in such duty as this. Striving to make others happy, working to ease their suffering and supplying their wants to the best of my ability -- it allows me to forget you for awhile. For while I ease their sadness and try to bring them joy and laughter, I cannot concentrate on the emptiness that your passing has left behind.
Nights are difficult as one might expect. When the shade of evening falls and the stars fill the sky, I lie down wherever I might be and try to sleep. The thoughts that work has kept at bay, though, creep back to torment me. Resting does not come easy these days and I would give anything to be too tired to think when I go to sleep. If only I had come back sooner, I would have been able to say good bye! Perhaps I might have even been able to save you. I can hear you now, telling me that I shouldn't say such things. You are right; I shouldn't.
But it cannot be helped. It is as natural as breathing. For your sake and my own, I will do my best to banish these thoughts. Goodnight, dearest El.
Faelalan.
