I Am Not My Skin [ UNDER EDITING ]

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For the next few minutes, Igrette decided to seclude himself in his bed chamber and meticulously inscribe his thoughts in his phyphěr joryāl. He detailed everything he wanted to convey to his father, from the elven gēäyms to his secret conclaves with the white-haired wizard whenever he came to Regerth and even his upcoming bârïyte. This celebration marked a pivotal moment for Igrette, signifying his transition from a thýn to an aïdahlt in the eyes of most elves.

Igrette's excitement for the changes in his life was palpable, as it meant new responsibilities awaited him. Guarding the golden gates of Regerth was his foremost desire, and he also hoped to venture to places like Sirhctine and Berthun for trade if Gingerylle would allow it.

Almost everyone in the aron knew that, aside from its amethyst-coloured river, Regerth was known for its wheat, seeds, and nuts, to name but a few.

The bustling market, affectionately known as the little hyvęä of Regerth, attracted washers and elves from distant lands, all seeking the finest wheat, seeds, nuts, and other essential goods. This vibrant marketplace was where most elves earned their livelihood, making it a vital hub for the community.

However, the recent events in Regerth have left many elves feeling apprehensive about welcoming newcomers to their community. After Xerion's sudden departure and the incident involving Gingerylle's soläceýs, the elves were understandably hesitant to place their faith in outsiders.

"If only things could go back to normal," Igrette said to himself just as he finished writing to his father and closed his phyphěr joryāl. He opened his drawer, placed his joryāl inside and closed it again. "Poor Regerth. Gingerylle was right. It is truly disheartening to think that some may never have the chance to experience the enchantment of Regerth ever again." He despondently added as he rose from his stool and, as he had done every other morning, almost immediately fell into his daily routine of tidying up his bed chamber and laying out his clothes for the day.

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Halfway after arranging the items on his bedside table, he was interrupted by the sweet melodies of the birds outside his window, which always managed to lift his spirits. Their chirping was a reminder of the simple joys of life, and for a moment, it helped him forget the worries that weighed on his mind.

Igrette, without hesitation, paused his chores, retrieved a piece of parchment paper containing sunflower seeds from his clothing chest, and returned to the window to greet his little avian companions. "Good morning, dear friends," he cheerfully addressed the birds. "I hope you all had a wonderful evening."

He carefully unwrapped the crumpled parchment and scattered a handful of seeds on the ground. The birds promptly descended from the trees, eagerly vying for the seeds. "Slow down, little ones," with a soft chuckle, Igrette observed their enthusiasm and playfully compared one of the birds to Cellithem, known for his love of Gingerylle's bean soup. "I believe that you and Cellithem would make great companions."

He gently admonished the bird as he attentively observed it consume nearly half of the seeds. "If you keep this up, there won't be any seeds left for your little flyņthėrs to eat. Do you want them to go hungry, little one?"

The bird, who was in his own little world, couldn't be bothered for one second with what Igrette had to say about sharing with his friends as he continued to stuff his mouth with seeds until there were no more left to eat for the others. Upon discovering this, Igrette couldn't help but chuckle, filling his bed chamber with cheery laughter. "From today, I shall call you Mr Seedy, seeing you are so fond of seeds."

"Ardydüs!" He gasped and suddenly remembered that today was his day to clean up Gingerylle's soläceýs. "Well, then, my little flyņthėrs, I must bid you all farewell, for I have much to do before I meet Gregory and the rest for a gēäym of clõvvën later in court."