The elve’s monk handbooks are special. Their sheets are four times more large than high, 12 inch by 3, without binding, writed horizontaly. The pages are stacked, and we turn its from down to up. Its cover are made in solid coloured leather. Some books – the more precious of its – have very ornated covers. Then, the manuscripts are gently wrapped into a drapery of silk, and stored in chests, sheltered from light and wet. The first Asgorim’s journal was not different, but much more poor, made with the cheaper paper he finaly succed to obtain near his tutor. The cover was in boiled leather, and it drapery was a piece of cloth coming from a old tunic. When he started his journal at age 13, his writing was still a bit childish and clumsy.


Greetings Goddess Angela !


Today is a wonderfull day, cause I succed to convince this head of wood who is Brother Elvinor my tutor to give me the sheets on which I write now. I – finaly - will be able to start to write to you all I have on the heart and what is running in my head. I chose you because brother Elvinar always tell that Love is the only way and the Mother of all things. And I have no mother in this li… here, a round stain has wet the paper and dissolved the f and the e of life. Probably a tear. Please, don’t juge me. Consider my confidences like a pray and put your loving eyes on me.


You certainly know I am sad about ignoring where I come from, and often angry that nobody in the monastery agree to tell me who was my parents and where they live. I feel sometime terribly alone, and that trouble me while I made the training practices. Why the other monks know their parents but not me ? I would like to know. Or if I can’t know, I would like to not suffering about. But how to live peacefully without knowing who made you ? I am not like the others and it’s hurt me. They have something I have not: a family and some origins. And I, I am just a abandoned child. Please Goddess, think to me.