I beseech ye all, forgive me — for I bring tidings that, unto ye, are as naught. They are as dust upon a long and weary road. They are as a grey cloud that shall never drift your way — swift and unseen as the beat of a hummingbird's wing. I shall meet my dear friend once more, after a long while apart. We converse but seldom, yet she is the kindest soul among all my friends and acquaintances. And lo — as if to prove my words that these tidings mean nothing to ye — she, the only one among all with whom I hold discourse, hath made me a gift. Alas, she came too late for my celebration — yet the very fact that she kept it so long means much to me. And 'tis a fine gift indeed: a figurine of Frieren — small and most lovely.
And once more, my deepest apologies and a low bow unto ye. I did so wish to share this news, and this splendid mood of mine — for a smile hath not left my lips.