My Lady, whilst my fondest wishes dwell upon these pages, it is my thought that 'tis only by the eldest magicks of the Moors thine eyes will caress them. Such sorcery is beyond me but in faith and fealty I will share my experiences in this strange realm.
The Lord has answered my prayers as my courage has returned and with it my feet have found their way past the shelter of thy glade. Since the quarter moon of midsummer night I have wandered, lurking at the fringes of their society like a leprous begger for fear that my speech and countenance would cause fright to them. But the people are so engrossed in their own affairs that a man out of time such as myself could wander verily unnoticed in their midst. They scurry about like so many ants, forever in pursuit of some nameless goal. This is oft curious to behold but twinged with sadness as you watch them dance around one another without even the basest touch of compassion or humanity in their eyes. Yet their speech is much as I remembered but wrought with haste and bereft of courtesy. From what little I have learned it would seem that Christendom wars yet on the infidel and their numbers - milady - they are a veritable tide of humanity breaking upon the world's shores. T'would seem that the war will continue till the ends of time.
My days are spent learning, milady. Knowledge is easily come by but I fear comprehension is another matter entirely. Their peasantry is literate and can read and write in ways that would engender envy in the humblest scribe. But the written word is not their only marvel - they have curious boxes, windows into another place and time, and from these one can glean fragments of the world as it is now - oh, there is so much to pen that I fear my fingers will be worn to stubs 'fore I've touched upon a tenth of what is now the world. It is a marvel that would've astounded even Merlin as within their depths people move and speak and seem to live normal lives - players upon the stage.
This very night I'd been peering through a window into a domicile. It evoked memories of Sir Thomas, the young nobleman of Gaul whose paramour felt the touch of his eyes most intimitately. And much like Sir Thomas my own curiosity was ended abruptly by the master's dogs. Though this mutt was but the size of a mouse, fear of discovery bade me bid a hasty retreat. Even now the image of your brave knight, clanking away into the dark night from a mere pup brings tears of mirth to my eyes as I am sure they would to thine.
Ah my lady, tis as if everything reminds me of you and even now those selfsame tears well with sorrow. It has been too many years since I've felt thy presence and my heart yearns for a time when we will, once more, be reunited. Before sorrow swamps me, I will beg thy forgiveness and leave thee with my love - now, as always, your humble servant.