My lady Id,
As I await renewed assault in these chilled towering halls, I find my mind ever drifting back to you. No, not simply my promise to investigate herbal possibilities here, though on that I have not forgotten, I assure you. My mind, instead, focuses mostly on how comforting your warm embrace would be. I feel the only thing that could rip the chill from my bones here would to be nestled upon our favourite seat in the study by the fire with you curled upon my lap.
It is a wretched, sinister cold, my sweet lady. It pierces my being like no sensation of hot or cold has in many a year.
As you may recall, my previous studies and experimentation’s have left me with a rather dulled appreciation for changes in temperature. I sweat in heat, but I rarely notice it. Cold, especially, is something that goes totally unnoticed. Even atop the Storm Peaks I felt nothing of it out of the ordinary. However, here, I find it sinks into my very being. It is a disturbing feeling after so long.
It is wholly without sympathy to the realm of the living. It perhaps explains why I have not found you so much as a weed to harvest from this towering Citadel, no matter how deep or high I plumb it.
Soon we shall march on the laboratory, however, and from it I pledge my word that something of value shall be returned to you for study. This labyrinth is not void of knowledge, of that we can be most certain. And from it you must be among the first recipients of that hidden wealth of knowledge. I shall not fail you, and my axe swings shall strike all the harder in the name of you, glorious lady Idryl Bitterose, and your pursuit of knowledge.
My time runs short. The clods and nincompoops about me finally pull themselves together and manage to remember they are a fighting force.
I hope soon I return home to you, trophies and prizes of discovery in arms, to a heroes welcome. For to be champion of your cause is my chief aim, a thundering legion in one that serves your mighty purpose. Our mighty purpose.
Your sweet lips, tender touch and supple, yielding body await me beyond these ghostly walls. I know it, though the place seeks to steal the memory of the feeling from me.
Your Knight Errant,
A note on expensive, thick paper, made with very elegant and fine handwriting.
My dearest wife,
The inner calm you instill within me is forever tempered and challenged by the unquenchable yearning fire that burns inside me for you and you alone. You inspire me to great acts of cognition and discovery at the same time you taunt and tempt me with your every word and motion to fall to my knees and plead for your merciful embrace.
The great and noble pursuit of knowledge first united us, as two bright minds drawn to each others light in the dark night. Were I condemned to never set my touch to your flesh I would love and cherish you no less, for your brilliance warms and guides me across distances insurmountable by mortals.
Though to stand by you each day, my own flesh, already turgid with desire for you, is set ablaze, like love and lust doubled upon itself in amounts unequaled by living experience and memory, untold and untellable by the greatest of poets and song writers.
Were I given the chance, my desires unleashed, I would thrust myself into you until all passion was spent, and pray to deities true or false for vigor renewed, that I might never cease in my own reverence at the alter that is your supremely graceful mental chalice. That glorious flesh which cups and holds your thoughts without unduly binding them to our limited material coil.
I cherish you like no other, I respect your mind beyond all other example. Though beneath it and through it the flames of my yearning lick through, it is a lust born not merely from the physical need of your bountiful and luscious physical form. No, the fires that crawl beneath my skin at every moment, waking and unwaking alike, are part of my need to make myself one with you. To bring body and mind, and mind and body together. To stimulate in you pleasure that might transmit my desire to see you gratified.
I lust for your deliciously cunning mind as readily as I do your curvaceous, sumptuous flesh. I can only wish that I were in and of you now, that our flesh were become one, and from it our minds stimulated to frenzy in equal fashion, that we might walk the same path of sensation as lovers on a forest path hand in hand. So as tendrils of lightning satisfaction spread through our being and our psyches, that they would be shared in equal part you and me. That in body and mind no being could dare conjecture that we were not one at this moment in any sense of the phrase.
To steady my hand so as to place pen to paper takes struggle in copious amounts equal to that required for the most momentous of battles. My limbs quiver with their ache for you. The pillar of my male desire exists solely for you, refuses to rest to any and all machinations but those of your making. That eventually it will lay within you again is the sole thought that steadies my mind and keeps me from madness of spirit.
You, dearest and most beloved and desired Id, are the fuel of my heart and felfire of my loins. Unique and totally unalike any other, you are my passion and desire, my drive and my goal.
Ever needful of you,