All That Was Not Lost to the Fire by Isilme_among_the_stars  

The Wooden Box

My father has a tiny box, more precious to him than anything in the world. Not the sort you would expect, being neither ostentatious nor particularly skillful. It is crafted from wood of trees that knew only starlight, and inlaid with linen woven from flax nourished by the Sea of Helcar. Like father, it is a rarity. They are the only things in the world borne of both his mother and father’s hands. He suffers none to touch it, not even mother. When he caught me stroking the fabric with small fingers, I thought he would rage. Instead, he cried.

Found in the bottom of a chest in Formenos, tucked inside a letter addressed to him from his mother, is a small piece of parchment with lettering in Maitimo’s child-like lettering. Scrawled on the reverse side, faint graphite markings read:

“Do not forget, your father once allowed you to see his unguarded tears. Grief and fear sharpened to anger are terrible things. Do not make the same mistake yourself. Perhaps he may be softened once more, but not by my hand. Take care Maitimo.”