Jumo Illoten
If anybody out there finds this letter, this was supposed to be by my mother’s grave.
If you could do me a favour, please return it and send her your love as you place it back.
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My mother so loved this community, and, within it, loved the people. The stories we’d make and tell one another. The unlikely friendships I formed over our years of living in this conjoined community. My mother taught me how to treat others with respect and love and she would spread that wisdom to everyone within our neighbourhood.
Thank you, Mom, for telling me to go outside and play with the other kids all those years ago.
I was always nervous about making friends back then, especially with a Dwarf and a Human. I was so much bigger and I thought they’d make fun of me, but you reassured me that if I was kind and understanding, they would treat me the same. From that day on, we were the best of friends; we’d travel through the nearby woods and go on fake adventures. We always knew we lived in an unforgiving and dangerous world, fraught with thirst and insignificance. But you always had a glass of water and a warm hug for the three of us when we got home, even when we were covered in sand and silt. You told us which places to avoid, and taught us how to defend ourselves.
But I could tell that as we got older, our glasses stayed the same while yours seemed to get shorter. As your age progressed and your sickness worsened, just about the time when you were stuck in your bed every night; my friends left. They were all old enough to leave, and their own parents wondered why they were still around, but I knew they only stayed this late because of you and me. I assured them that I would remain here to take care of you, and I did everything I could.
A few years after my friends left for better pastures to make names and a living for themselves, is when your vision finally faded and I found the horrific comfort in doing all that I can to have my last few moments with you. I had heard of a water source from a soul that if you ever laid eyes on, I’m confident you would have told us to stray far from. This source was claimed to have granted extra strength, as my job at that time needed a few extra hands around the place, and I needed the extra ceramic to afford your medicine. So I went, and I took a bottle from that strange soul and imbibed it.
And this, Mom, was why I was glad you could no longer see me, for I was growing an extra set of arms. This was not entirely unheard of, for in this land, you and I both know people are desperate for a few drops these days. But you had always told me to be wary of this stuff and these types of people, and I did not listen. But I never had the heart to tell you this in our last year together.
My friends, your three sons are getting back together here in a few days. The travelling arena is coming to a city close by, and I know that used to be your favourite thing to watch. I remember that’s where you met Dad, and so we thought we’d honour your memory by seeing another one.
I will tell them that your strength held until the very last blink, for the Illotens are of a mighty line.
I don’t yet know what I will make of my life, but I will carry you and your wisdom with me wherever life takes me.
Sleep well.
