My dear elven scribe(s), I have noticed that over the past few weeks there has been a steady rise in rather inappropriate questions and anonymous nastiness.
I was wondering, are you aware that you do not have to respond to such horrible things? You may prefer to give responses, being the dignified elf (or elves, as it has been recently) that you are, but you should feel no shame in ignoring certain posts.
If you choose to continue responding to such things then that is entirely your decision and I will respect that, but for your own wellbeing, perhaps it might be a good idea to delete or ignore things for a while.
To help with any lingering unpleasant feelings, here is a book:
A cat to sleep on you while you read:
And a mug of hot cocoa as well.
I hope these help, and I hope your week improves greatly from here on out!
—Story Weaver
Ah—dearest correspondent,
Firstly, allow me to express my deepest gratitude for your kind words and thoughtful counsel. It warms my heart—truly—to know there are such considerate souls among you. Your concern for my wellbeing (and, by extension, that of my assistant) does not go unappreciated.
I deeply appreciate your thoughtful words and concern. Truly, it warms my heart to know there are such considerate souls keeping watch. 💛
Rest assured, for both my sake and that of my ever-dramatic assistant Eredin, I shall henceforth report or dismiss any unkind messages that come our way. No shadow of nastiness shall linger in these halls if I can help it!
Your gentle reminder is taken to heart. Thank you for looking out for us—it means more than I can say.
However—I must address the matter at hand.
You see, your gift included a most curious tome: “Pooh Goes Visiting and Pooh and Piglet Nearly Catch a Woozle” by one A.A. Milne.
Now, I—Lindir of Rivendell, who has read poetry older than mortal empires—do not have the pleasure of knowing this Pooh, a bear-gentleman, you say? A bear. Of all creatures. One who visits places, apparently at whim, and finds himself nearly entangled in the catching of something called a Woozle.
A Woozle, you say?
What is a Woozle? Is it some fell beast of the North? A cunning spirit of the woods? I consulted the archives, yet not a single reference to Woozles in the annals of the Eldar. Distressing. Most distressing.
And then—Piglet. Who is Piglet? Is he a warrior, diminutive yet fierce, sworn to aid this Pooh in his woozle-hunting endeavors? Does this Piglet ride into battle, armed with something suitably heroic? A spear? A blade? A frying pan, perhaps?
I am bewildered. Yet fascinated.
Your generosity also extended to a cat—a most elegant black-and-white creature, whose green eyes gleamed with knowledge beyond reckoning. The cat has since decided that my lap is the only suitable throne in all of Imladris. Naturally. I would not dream of disturbing them. The cat now reigns supreme. I accept this fate.
As for the hot cocoa—ah, yes. A delightful mug, crowned with chantilly and adorned with a candy cane. It would have been a perfectly divine comfort, had I been permitted a single sip.
But alas.
Eredin.
Eredin.
The moment I unwrapped the cocoa, he snatched it away with the swiftness of a Noldorin warrior reclaiming a Silmaril. I had barely turned my head (to ponder, quite earnestly, what a Woozle might be) when I heard the unmistakable sound of content sipping.
“It had candy on top, my Lord,” he said, with zero remorse. “Candy.”
I—what response is there to such audacity?
Now, he lounges nearby, smug, sipping my cocoa, curls immaculate from his unnecessarily elaborate hair routine (he claims the Valar demand it), and the cat purrs approvingly beside him. I am outnumbered. Betrayed by feline and assistant alike.
In conclusion: I am baffled by this Pooh, haunted by the mystery of Woozles, robbed of cocoa, trapped under a cat, and deeply concerned that my assistant may begin documenting this entire debacle for Tumblr under some clickbait title.
But your kindness is truly appreciated. Should you have further wisdom regarding this Pooh and his... Woozle-related adventures, I would be most grateful.
With the deepest of sighs and the heaviest of secondhand embarrassment, Lindir of Rivendell, Reluctant Scholar of Woozle Lore, Long-Suffering Victim of Cocoa Theft, and Unwilling Throne for Feline Royalty.