Author's note: After seeing that little broken hearted icon come up one too many times while doing the UC leg of the Valentine's Quests, I couldn't resist.

Letter from a Broken-Hearted Blood Elf

Undercity, how I used to love thee. Going against everything in my nature, and to the scorn of my fellow Elves, I've always preferred your streets and alleyways over those of fair Silvermoon. I have always felt more myself when I browsed your shops, more accepted. You seemed to sense it as well, the loyalty I felt to your Forsaken. You rewarded me with one of your great Skeletal Warhorses for which I will always be grateful.

So why then, oh why, do I sit, desolate, on the steps of your docks, my feet dangling just over top of your putrid green water? Why is my heart filled with so much sadness? Why am I so overcome with dejection in a place that once brought me such joy?

It is because my heart's been broken. A token of my affection has been rejected by its intended, leaving me alone and lonely at the time of year meant to celebrate love.

He was a city guard, stationed on the outermost ring of the Magic Quarter. Yes, his eyes were a little skewed; and yes, the third arm protruding from his back was a little disconcerting, but there was a warmth in his lopsided smile that I found alluring. They are lonely creatures, the Abominations, and it seemed a shame for anyone to be lonely at a time when others have winged goblins following in their wake, waiting to shoot love's arrow.

I donned my best red gown, the one cut low with the open back, and dabbed on my favourite perfume. I approached him demurely, presented my token.

And he --

That wretch --

I cannot think of it without being overcome by anger.

I tell myself I was doing him a favor. We are, after all, the fairest race of the Horde. And him? He doesn't even have all his organs on the inside! There are ribs sticking out, waiting to stab me if I come too close. And let's be frank here, the odor coming from that gaping stomach cavity cannot be masked by all the cologne in the world. The fact that he would reject me is unfathomable.

Oh, if only it were simple rejection. He had to insult me as well. He had the nerve...the nerve...to call me fickle (though his simpleton's vocabulary reduced the word to a much cruder term). My tokens of affection were meaningless, he said. He then insinuated we were such narcissisticand vain creatures that we would trade our affections for a Scrunchie!

Sigh.

I should be furious. I want to be able to hold on to the rage that pulses through me only to receede one more into the depts of my despair. I want to hop on the nearest windrider (Mr. Garrett, by the way, was very flattered by my gifts) and fly back to Silvermoon City, where my beauty and my gifts are appreciated. The men there are well aware of how a lady deserves to be treated.

Yet I cannot. The sadness in my heart roots me here as surely as any entanglement spell. He has rejected me, and I am no longer worthy of happiness...

Sigh

Excuse me, Troll? Why do you insist on jumping jovially around me? Can you not see I am dejected? That I have been forsaken by love and am doomed to spend the rest of my life looking into these green waters, writing melancholy sonnets about the bitterness of amours lost? How can you dance when my heart is broken? How can you--

What is this?

A gift?

For me?

You wish to bestow upon me your eternal friendship, to be commemorated always by this bracelet? Oh, Sir Troll, you are too kind! A mere glimpse at it upon my wrist makes my heart alive with hope once more! I am freed from the chains of sadness that had enslaved me! Thank you! Thank you, you wonderful, kind--

Where did you go?

No matter. I can love again, and my perfume still smells oh-so-sweet. And what is this here in my backpack? A handful of love tokens, still waiting to be distributed.

You know, the Cockroach Vendor is kinda cute in the right light.