The Letter

The letter he carries sits heavy within his bag; the weight of it's contents press on his shoulders as he walks, but it is far heavier in his hands. He considers it, staring at the fine envelope that houses his charge, the name Archibald inscribed in careful, swooping, deliberate pen strokes inscribed upon it's surface. The task he was given is simple: share the story written upon this letter. He is an Orator. To share stories, to spread the history of his Folk, is his sworn duty. It was a burden he happily asked to bear many years ago.

He had always vowed to share the truest form of history he possibly could. Always. He had never told a story that he could not be certain was true.

"You may read it if you wish," Deidra had said the day previous as she handed him the letter. "You are an Orator after all. Carry on this story."

He looked to his left where Deidra currently walked beside him, staring stoically ahead into the distance. He gave her a smile, but if she noticed, she did not acknowledge him.

"If you are asking me to do this, it must be very important to you," he had said with a small smile, the words still new and fresh in his mind at that time. "I will, I will carry it on for you. I'll be sure that whether through ne directly, or those who I share this story with wherever I go, that Archibald receives the words you wish for him to hear."

He had meant every word. He would never have promised such a thing if he weren't sincere in his intentions.

For Deidra's own part in things, he had no reason to believe any of it to be a lie.

This story she intended for him to share was different than the others he usually told, however, and as he repeated every word in his mind he carefully considered them. Many stories from history he had gathered throughout his lifetime were clean-cut. It was clear who was right and who was wrong. When he read this letter he wasn't quite so certain. It wasn't obvious who was right, whether it was Deidra or Archibald, or the Sidhe Courts, or if anyone was even right at all. The lines were not drawn so clearly.

The Court would never do something without reason. This he knew to be true. They always knew what was best for all the Folk.

But Deidra wouldn't lie. She never struck Naoise to be that kind of person. She was like Julius in that regard: blunt, to the point, and honest in all that she chose to say. When reading through this letter, although her views on things conflicted on what Naoise had always known to be true and correct, Deidra's actual feelings were clear as the crystal she once called her home. Her feelings for Archibald could not be denied. Her feelings for what was best for these worlds, both of Hadreon as well as Tír na nÓg, were obvious. There were many things that made sense to Naoise, that he agreed with, that he also felt to be true. And she was once a Noble of the Court, and as such, she would clearly know more than he in regards to such matters.

It just seemed as though the strokes of this picture she had painted with her words were of a different color than what Naoise had always seen.

When he again looked to Deidra, he found that she too looked in his direction and steadily met his gaze. Her expression did not change, and no words were shared, but he felt there was some sort of understanding that was passed between them nonetheless.

There was no place for doubt, Naoise thought. Why should he? He had the facts, he knew he did.

Friends do not lie.

Deidra would not lie.

As such, everything she wrote is the truth. It is her personal piece history.

And she trusts him to share it.

He places the letter back in his bag, careful to keep it separate from his own personal letters written for other friends. It still feels heavy, but he doesn't feel as though it weighs quite so heavily on him now.

If this was the truth, as he was certain it was, perhaps he needed to rethink what history really was. This was it, in it's rawest form, given to him directly from someone who had personally lived it.

He would ensure he kept to his word. Just because it was not what he knew to be true before didn't mean her history was wrong. It was simply new, and it needed to be shared. For Deidra's sake. For Archibald. For the good of all the Sidhe. He is an Orator. It is his duty to share the history of the Sidhe, to share stories that he was certain to be true.

He would never tell a lie.