I'm sorry to have to say this in such a public forum, hon, but I really just don't care for you the way you do me. I've tried to let you down gently before, but, in your love-striken despair (or was that the nann...?) you repeatedly dashed into my room in a panic, thrusting your (erm) swords at me desperately.

Now, any respectable thief tries to ignore such impropriety (perhaps lifting a few items from the suitor as a chiding), but somehow that only seemed to add fuel to the flames of your passion (though that could be the branches I dropped when I lost the link to this land). You persue me from city to city, day after day, obviously in torment over your unrequited love.

It is getting a bit tiresome, hon, I have to admit. The mooning eyes (hmm, maybe some zaganzar), the throbbing heart (akmar should fix that...), the puckering lips (aha yake!), I'm sorry, but I really can't let you think you have a chance. I'm sorry to do this in such a public forum, but it's simply not meant to be. I am a pirate, and a thief, and you are far too honourable to debase yourself in your throes for my attention. Take care, and don't love faith, I'm certain you will find someone else. There

are many fair maids in the Goblin Halls you frequent so much (perhaps to console yourself...?).

Written by my hand on the 28th of Ilmarael, in the year 1142.