I hate dresses, I find they are ugly and inconvenient, representing womanhood in the most disgusting of ways. Red dresses, blue dresses, dresses with ribbons, dresses with laces, dresses with buttons, short-sleeved dresses, long-sleeved dresses, dresses with no sleeve at all.. No thank you!  How is one supposed to breathe in one of them? Maybe you are not supposed to breathe as a woman. I bet you the first dress ever made was by the hands of a man.

The filth scatter as I ride out in my glory. The cold mists curl like tattered banners about the fetlocks of my horse. My chosen men spur on hard to try to keep close, but my horse has no peer - and neither do I.

We erupt from the grinning gates, spike-toothed portcullis swinging above us, down into the cold hard valley. Above me on the stone walls a brazen trumpet blares out my challenge to the North.

Strange is my fate.. When you begin to realize and understand why you are the way you are, something else turns up, an event, a person, a thought.. and everything turns blurry again. It confuses me and makes me uncertain and I hate the feeling. At the same time, I am what I have always been, I get a notion and I act in the present now. Not thinking ahead, simply doing it, because it feels so right, right now. The thoughts of late have indeed been strange and nothing I ever believed would enter my mind and even less acting according to them.

We never thought for one minute that things would turn out like this. It has come as a suprise to us both, but a pleasant, very-much welcomed one. We took a trip to the North, to replace bad memories with good ones and we have succeeded; that day shall remain in my heart forever.

 Something that I did not foresee, this is a sorry day.

My mind, heart and soul has been torn apart, after I learned that my son, Teremonth has beloved another Elf. I dare not speak of it in public, such embarrassment and shame would overwhelm me. Iverwen, Teremonth's wife, seems to be speechless, I feel as if she does not know how to act upon the situation.

I take pleasure in the hunt. It is right and fitting that I should  do so, proud heir to a proud lineage. The ride out before dawn, drumming over the earth. The great hounds faithful and eager at the leash. A falcon at the wrist, wildness at my bidding. In the south the amber-eyed lion - even he - must yield his tawny crown to me. Here in the north the wolf and bear bow to my prowess.

But now - the rarest and most precious. The man-hunt.