[A neatly penned letter, with perhaps slightly large hand writing.]
This is one of the many works of the nameless master poet that scrawled his words upon the cell that I occupied for five years as a drow slave. It is perhaps a mournful tale. I do hope you enjoy it.
There was a fair princess, in a fair land, There was a fair bedine, in a place of sand. If that fair princess was of a goodly bent, Then that fair bedine, was certainly devil sent. One a noble of a respected house The other was worse then a no good louse, What strange destiny would have thought That these two could both be bought? By a sinister skinned being of black, to be tortured endlessly upon a rack, for the amusement of this master, A powerful drow magician and caster, They did suffer for many years, Until the very culmination of their fears... But in that last moment the princess did see, That she was not so different then he. And in that last moment he did see, That he was not so different then she. Was this love? They would not know, For that was the last moment before their foe, called them up and lopped off their fair heads, sending them into the Dark Lake with weighted leads. It was into death they did escape, Knowing only the stirrings of love's true shape. There was once a fair princess, in a fair land, There was once a fair bedine, in a place of sand. That fair princess was of goodly bent, Yet was that bedine truly devil sent? ~The Nameless Bard, Remembered by Murien Zirkin.