Respectfully,
U. Irontongue
Professor of Linguistics
University of London
The academic credentials feel necessary for context, but also potentially intimidating. University professor complaining about colleague's noise suggests institutional rather than personal conflict.
I add my flat number instead:
U. Irontongue
Flat 4B
More neighborly. Less hierarchical.
But the signature raises new concerns. Irontongue announces orcish heritage immediately, something that might explain acoustic disturbances, and it doesn’t favor continued peaceful coexistence.
Some humans find orcish names amusing. Others find them threatening. Academic context usually provides sufficient legitimacy to overcome initial prejudice, but personal correspondence operates under different social rules.
Fourth draft:
Dear Ms. Ruiz,
Thank you for your courteous note. I sincerely apologize for disrupting your work with my morning language practice. I should have considered how sound travels in older buildings.
I completely understand your need for quiet working conditions and will adjust my schedule to avoid early hours. Please don't hesitate to contact me if any other issues arise.
Best regards,
Ursak Irontongue
4B
Using my full first name feels more personal without compromising honesty. The tone matches her professional courtesy while accepting full responsibility. Schedule adjustment promise provides concrete resolution without defensive explanations.
I read through the draft three more times, checking for grammatical errors or unintended implications. English remains my third language, despite decades of study. Subtle connotations sometimes escape initial review.
The handwriting appears appropriately neat as legible without being overly formal. Academic training ensures consistent letter formation, something that frequently surprises humans expecting crude orcish penmanship.
But timing presents new considerations. Immediate delivery might seem anxious, like I'm monitoring her movements. Delayed delivery risks appearing dismissive of legitimate concerns.
Evening delivery allows for private conversation if she chooses to open her door. Also demonstrates that I take her complaint seriously enough to address promptly.
I fold the note carefully and place it beside my linguistic notebooks. The juxtaposition strikes me as oddly symbolic as practiced romance in six languages, but struggling with basic neighborly communication in English.
"Kedves Szerelmem, minden nap arra gondolok..."
Hungarian love letters seem absurdly irrelevant now. What good is mastering romantic vocabulary when I can't manage simple courtesy toward actual humans in my immediate environment?
The afternoon passes slowly. University email confirms Dr. Westfield's meeting for tomorrow, but provides no additional context about acoustic phenomena or anthropological research. I attempt to focus on grading student papers, but concentration proves elusive.
M. Ruiz lives in 4A. Mirror layout to my own flat, most likely. Her morning work routine probably takes place in the same front room where I conduct pronunciation exercises. Shared wall between our primary living spaces.
Which means she's heard six months of linguistic practice without complaint until now. Either building acoustics recently changed, or my volume levels have gradually increased without conscious awareness.
Or deadline pressure finally exceeded her tolerance threshold.
