A Dwarf's Lament: On Elves and Existential Dread

Hello there, dear Anonymous! It’s your favorite dwarven princess, Palling, back with another rant from my luxurious prison tower. I hope this post finds you well and in good spirits, because today I’m afraid I won’t be able to muster much cheer. You see, my mind’s been consumed by those pointy-eared pests—the elves of Ravenglass. Ugh, the very thought of them makes my blood boil! I mean, what’s not to hate about a bunch of self-righteous, tree-hugging, arrow-shooting fiends who think they’re superior to us sturdy dwarves? It’s simply infuriating!

But my distaste for elves runs deeper than mere cultural differences or the fact that they’ve imprisoned me against my will (though that certainly doesn’t help). No, it’s their smugness that really gets under my skin. They strut around with their perfect hair and their fancy bows, acting like they own the place. Newsflash: they don’t! This is dwarf territory we’re talking about, not some elven playground. And don’t even get me started on their prince, Herniere. That priggish little twerp thinks he can just waltz in here, kill my father, and then expect me to marry him? Please! I’d rather eat a whole mountain of moldy cheese than submit to his elven nonsense.

I know some of you might be thinking, ‘But Princess Palling, surely there must be some good elves out there?’ To which I say… maybe. But until I meet one who doesn’t look down their nose at me or try to steal my kingdom, I’ll remain skeptical. For now, I’ll just have to content myself with plotting my escape and dreaming of the day when dwarves can live in peace without elven interference. Thanks for listening to my rant, dear Anonymous. Remember: if an elf ever tells you they come in peace, just smile politely and hide your axe—trust me on this one.