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Being the record of Applecider Bolingbroke, cunningly coded in shorthand, for debriefing & delineation by the Honorable Bounders at the Hunt’s conclusion … (unless get very lucky, and can avoid paperwork) ….
Being another letter from Applecider Bolingbroke, to Lancogard North-Took, Hon. Deputy-Shirriff of the Northfarthing (still apparently on the beat), left attached to the first, written roughly half a day later:
Duncadda finds himself in a far-off place, in a candle-lit hall, and in the company of a mysterious Elf-woman with whom he shares speech and song, food and drink...
In reality I’m sleeping sheltered under a tree in the White mountains, weary in body and mind. And I dream about meeting an esteemed elf with the name Seregrian, praising me for something I have created and rewarded me with a song, ale from strange lands and a table filled with delicious food. Even a wonderful jewel was a part of that reward, which I felt undeserved, but she would have none of it.