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Chapter 3:
Nimwen passed through the crowds, Mahvir following close behind. The Grand Cathedral would soon be in view, and despite the elf's less than favorable opinion of Val Royeaux, she still found the building impressive. "Have you ever been in the Grand Cathedral, lethallin?" she asked Mahvir.
"No," he replied, voice distant. The word had been spoken with a breathlessness behind it and he moved slow. Several times Nimwen had to slow down to match his pace.
"It's quite beautiful," Nimwen said, eyeing Mahvir with curiosity. "One of the few things in Val Royeaux that is actually worthy of lavishness." Her brow furrowed. "Are you all right?" she asked, noticing the fatigue on his face.
He managed to give her small smile, but didn't otherwise speak. He pulled out a plant from one of the pouches at his belt. Nimwen recognized it at once as one which was used for elders in her clan to ease breathing during the colder months. Mahvir placed the tip of the plant in his mouth.
"Is something wrong with your breathing?" she asked, concerned.
Both his eyebrows rose. "You're the first to recognize the plant," the words were quick as if he was struggling for air. "My breathing is poor," he explained.
"Do you need to sit down?" she asked. She stopped walking and turned around to face him. "We can take a break, nobody is going anywhere," she assured him.
"You are too kind, my lady." He stopped as well and leaned against the wall. He took out another few plants and started to mix them together in a bowl. Each one Nimwen recognized as something the Keeper had been teaching her to help strengthen the elders for long journeys, breathing, pain, and more.
"Come, there's a bench right over there," she said, pointing to the stone seating nearby. She knew his condition had to be serious, given how short a distance they'd walked before his breathing started to act up. She would feel more at ease once he was sitting down.
"This is all I need." He held up the bowl. "I am not here to be a burden upon you, Inquisitor. I've lived with this most of my life." He lowered his hood before he downed the bowl's contents. It was then Nimwen saw just how young he was. He couldn't have been more than three or four years older than her. His black hair chopped to shoulder length part of it bound back back from his eyes. His eyes were a dark, rich purple.
"You'll be more of a burden if you pass out," Nimwen said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm going to sit down. Feel free to join me." She strode over to the bench, well shaded beneath an apple tree. She sat down and crossed her legs, looking at Mahvir to see what he'd do.
A small sigh escaped him. After a moment, he joined her on the bench. Fear snapped his beak a little and hopped down to rest on Mahvir's leg. The long beak of the raven then nibbled at Mahvir's black gloved fingers.
"Greedy thing." Mahvir pulled out a few bread crumbs.
The raven snapped them up faster than one could blink.
"See, isn't this nice?" she teased gesturing to the scene. "Even your bird approves."
"Fear wasn't even doing any work." Mahvir gave the bird a playful glare. It was easier to relax after seeing his face and just how young he really was. "Human cities are very different from one another," he mused. "I will confess I've only been to Val Royeaux once before."
"I don't think I'll ever get used to them," Nimwen admitted. "There are some advantages; a market with food available everyday, permanent shelter, books-I love the books. But so many people! I still can't believe so many people can live in one place," Nimwen shuddered. "Sometimes I forget what it was like back with my clan. Then I go to Val Royeaux, makes it easier to remember," she chuckled.
"There are places in human cities far more packed than this. The Imperium's slave pins for one," he stated as he mixed more of the herbs together. There was already a notable difference in his voice and breathing.
"I don't know if I'd ever want to go to Tevinter," Nimwen said. "Though, I may someday. I have a friend there and I swore I'd visit him." Nimwen felt a tightness in her chest. It had only been a month since Dorian left for the Imperium, and already she missed him. They had spoken everyday using the messenger crystals, but there was something about not being able to see him, or hug him, that had the elf missing her best friend even more.
"It wouldn't happen to be the new magistor I've been hearing about, is it?" Mahvir asked before he drank the bowl and made a face.
"Yes, that would be him," Nimwen replied. "Still can't believe I have to call him Magister Pavus, though the minute he commands me to call him that I'm burning his mustache."
"A magistor friendly to one of the People." Mahvir had a sad smile on his face as he looked at Fear. "The future might be closer than we think where our People can walk on equal footing with the humans once more."
"It might just be, though the only reason anyone bothered with me was because my hand glowed." Just as she mentioned it, Nimwen winced, the end of her stump arm aching. Ever since she lost her arm she would get bouts of pain where the bone ended. The worst though, was when she thought she could feel her fingers, but when she looked down all she saw was empty space. 'You're gone, but you still cause me pain,' she thought, trying to keep her composure when her arm throbbed.
"Both of us are not even physically thirty yet, and already in poor condition. Quite a pair we make to take on an ancient, immortal elf," Mahvir's voice was sad. "Though, the Inquisition follows you still and the People see something in me, who knows what, but they do."
Nimwen laughed, a sad, hollow laugh. "Oh, yes, they follow. They have a crippled, elven, mage woman who has yet to reach her twenty second birthday and with nary a clue what to do, and still they want me to decide their fates. What a life I lead, huh, Mahvir? What about you, did you take up leadership out of passion, or did fate drop it in your lap and wish you good luck?"
"There is no such thing as luck," he started and looked across the way. "In part, it was dropped on me. I saw my People suffering at the hands of Tevinter mages, I suffered the same as they did. I decided enough was enough and managed to trick our master. We fled across the south. And thus the People saw me as akin to Shartan. And word spread among servants and slaves until it is what I am known as."
"So, when you spoke of Tevinter slave pins, you spoke from personal experience?"
"Yes." He lifted his gaze to the sky. "But it is in the past. While the past is something we should never forget, it isn't something we should strive to cling to at the cost of the future. I will not wallow in the pain or the loss, rather strive to make each day one where the People can live free of chains."
"I wish I had your strength," Nimwen whispered. "I'm just so tired." Her winter eyes glanced up at the branches of the tree above them. "They are so pretty, aren't they?" she asked, looking at the bright red apples hanging. She lifted her hand and from the tip of her index finger sprouted a small spiral of frost. It gently floated up until it hovered next to an apple. It then stretched and severed the apple from the tree by its stem. As it tumbled down, Nimwen caught it in her palm. "There are three things I like about Val Royeaux," she said. "Its books, its frilly cakes, and," - she bit into the apple with a sharp crunch - "it's apples."
Mahvir laughed. His laugh was soft as the whistle he had made to call the ravens the other day. "I will have to look into these books you speak so highly of." He stood.
Fear screeched and took to the sky before circling around and landing on Mahvir's shoulder.
"As for my strength, it took a great deal of time to heal wounds of betrayal to find what I live for." He looked at her, his dark, purple eyes locking onto hers for the first time. The amount of knowledge and pain reflected there was far deeper than she had seen in even Solas's gaze. "We all must find the one thing we live for: whether it be our People or our family. It's out there even if you can't always see it."
His words cut deep into her. It made her think of Lori, who was back at the Cathedral in the quarters given to them by Leliana. Her daughter was the main reason Nimwen forced herself out of bed everyday. She only had to think of her smile, her laugh, her constant questions, or her sweetness and the weight on her shoulders felt just a bit lighter.
"Ma serannas, Mahvir. You are wise, much wiser than I."
"You don't give yourself the credit you deserve, Lady Nimwen. We are all capable of great wisdom and stupidity. Age doesn't make one wise, experiences do. You've experienced enough in your twenty-one years to make you wiser than most." He held out his hand to her. "Who else is going to wise enough to tell me I need to take to break?" He smiled at her. His smile warm and welcoming. The pain in his eyes had vanished the moment he smiled.
Nimwen chuckled. "That is less about me being wise, and more about me being a mother. You reminded me of Lori when she refuses to take a nap when she is nearly asleep on her feet." She smiled.
Throughout her words it looked as if Mahvir was about to start laughing. When she finished he doubled over, laughing hard.
Fear launched into the air once more shrieking his protest to Mahvir's movement. The bird landed on Mahvir's head and peaked him.
"Away with you!" Mahvir snapped, laughter dying as he shooed the bird.
Fear landed on the bench beside Nimwen, feathers puffed out and eyes flashing.
Nimwen held her hand to her mouth as she snickered. "Careful, he means business," she warned Mahvir. She looked at Fear. "Have mercy, oh, Feathered one, he meant no offense."
Fear snapped his beak a few times looking as if he was going to actually speak. Then the bird turned his beautiful head to Mahvir, eyes blazing with more rage than before. He spread his wings and took the sky.
"I believe we just hurt a raven's pride." Mahvir chuckled.
"Poor thing," Nimwen smirked. She looked to the other elf. "Are you all right? With all that laughing, I wouldn't be surprised if you were out of breath again."
"We've delayed meeting your allies long enough." He did sound a little out of breath. "I can rest when reach our destination." He looked towards the sky. It wasn't in the direction Fear had gone, rather towards where the scar from the Breach was.
"You're right. We had best get going before Cassandra sends for a search party," Nimwen said with a shake of her head. She stood up, tucking the remainder of her apple away in her bag. "Shall we get going?"
Mahvir bowed his head and gestured for her to take the lead.
"All right, ready to meet the Divine?" Nimwen asked.
"You make it sound like a simple matter, but, yes."
"I promise she doesn't bite, not all the time at least," she said with a wink. She started down the path once more, leading Mahvir towards the Grand Cathedral. The throbbing in her arm had faded some, and Nimwen felt a sense of purpose she hadn't felt since she woken up from the Crossroads.
It took the pair over an hour to get across the Cathedral's courtyard. Mahvir's breathing was so bad that he started wheezing after a few minutes of walking at a normal pace. For most people this only acted up when running; yet, walking was causing him problems.
"We can keep going," he instead the third time this happened.
Nimwen was unsure, and she wanted to make him stop again. However, they were close and she felt like he would only grow more frustrated if she told him to stop. So she remained quiet, but was silently watching him. If he got any worse, she would then demand they take another break.
When they reached the entrance, Mahvir stopped and leaned against the wall. A thin layer of sweat covered his face and he was shock white. His breathing was low, uneven, and pained. "Forgive me," was all he managed to say. The words were so hushed the only reason Nimwen could hear them was because of how close she stood.
"Are you all right?" she asked, worried. She put her arm around him, letting him lean on her. "You look like you're about to pass out."
His lips twitched in a thin smile. "I'll live." He straightened and started forward once more, all of his weight now on his staff.
Nimwen hovered close, flashing back to when Lori first started to walk. "We don't have to meet with them right this instant," she assured him, eyeing his feet for fear he would slip. "You are allowed to rest, lethallin."
Mahvir stopped and bowed his head. The moment he stopped, his free hand moved to his chest.
"Mahvir?" Nimwen felt her heart race. "Mahvir, listen, if you're all right and you're just winded, nod yes. If there is a problem nod no, and you had better not lie," she said in what everyone liked to call her 'mom' voice.
After a moment, he shook his head. She had moved close enough that she could hear the thinness of his breathing. His hand moved from his chest to his bag. The movement made him stagger into the wall. He slid to the floor, eyes still open but he was sitting up, breathing still thin. He pulled out a vial from his bag. With his teeth he removed one glove before he dipped his long fingers into the container. He spread the poultice on his throat. The movement pulled down his tattered scarfs neckline to reveal thin, nasty scars covering the left side of his neck. His hand was pale, the same scars lacing his fingers and hand. It was the same as the scars Nimwen had seen on people who had been burned.
At once his breathing eased. "Forgive me," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I sometimes forget I can't last as long as I used to."
"It's fine," Nimwen said, her eyes still drawn to his marred skin. "Just so long as you are okay."
He followed her gaze to his hand. Then he replaced his glove, hiding any signs of the burn. "I'll live. I'll always live through it. People can live through just about anything."
'Yeah like having your arm melt off,' Nimwen thought to herself. "Can you stand?" she asked, offering her hand.
"Give me a moment." After a few minutes, he used his staff to pull himself up. "Can we walk slower this time? I am sorry, but I don't think I can handle a normal pace right now."
"Of course," Nimwen said, her voice gentle. "You just let me know when you need help, okay?"
He managed a weak smile. "My thanks. You've a kind heart, Lady Nimwen."
Nimwen blinked. "I...thank you." More and more she found there was something about this Mahvir… it was like there was a thread, spider's silk really, between them, and the more he spoke the more she felt it tug. There was more to this man than he let on, and Nimwen was determined to learn more. The matter at hand, however, was getting him to Leliana before he passed out. "Come along then, we have a Divine to meet with. She's usually in her office around this time." she said.
He nodded. The two of them started off down the hall at an almost excruciatingly slow pace. He kept one hand on his staff and the other out for balance. Nimwen felt relief when the door to Leliana's office was in sight. She and Mahvir stopped when the two guards posted outside the door stepped forward.
"We are here to speak to Divine Victoria," Nimwen said.
"Her Perfection asked that nobody disturbed her, she is quite busy," one of the guards said.
Nimwen raised a brow. "Did her requests specify that the Inquisitor was not allowed in her office?"
The second guard coughed. "N-no, she said everybody was-"
"Gentlemen, I am certain that the Divine will tell you that I am not everybody. Now please, I would like to speak with her."
"And who is this?" the first guard asked, pointing to Mahvir.
"Me? I'm nobody." Mahvir smiled at the guard.
"And therefore is not 'everybody.' Are we clear?" Nimwen asked, flashing a smile.
The guards exchanged nervous glances, but in the end they parted and allowed Nimwen to open the door. "Thank you. Come on, Mahvir."
"It's 'Nobody,'" he corrected, joking. He passed the guard his staff. "So you needn't think I am here to do Her Perfection harm." He limped after Nimwen.
Inside, in the most lavish office Nimwen had ever been in, sat Leliana at an ornate Dragonthorn desk, a mountain of paperwork before her. "Hope none of that is too important," Nimwen said as she and Mahvir walked inside.
"It is, but I have a feeling you have something more important," Leliana replied, her blue eyes on Mahvir. "Who are you?"
"I am Mahvir," he said with a bow of his head. "It is an honor to meet you, your Perfection, Divine Victoria. I came to the Inquisitor with information to aid your search for the ancient elf Solas."
"Here, sit down," Nimwen said, pointing to one of the plump chairs in front of the Divine's desk. "Do you have any tea, Leliana?"
"Over there," the redhead replied, gesturing to a pot on a nearby table.
"Good, I need some," Nimwen sighed, making her way over.
"So, Mahvir, was it?" Leliana asked. She folded her hands together. "What sort of information do you have about Solas?"
Mahvir remained standing. "I can provide the Inquisitor and yourself, your Perfection, with detailed information on his movements. I have no military force to act on this information and, thus, believed it to be wise if our two groups pooled knowledge in order to," he hesitated and Nimwen felt his eyes shift to her, "convince him our world is worth keeping."
With tea in hand, Nimwen took a seat in one of the chairs. She set the cup onto the desk and then snapped her fingers at Mahvir. "Sit," she said. "I don't need you getting sick again."
The tips of his ears reddened. He looked at the Divine before slowly sitting down.
"Mahvir said there is a possibility Solas plans to create another Anchor," Nimwen said, sipping her tea. It wasn't the minty herbal tea she preferred, but it was sweet and she could already feel her nerves and headache lessen as she drank. "He said it might take years for him to do that, which gives us time to try and get him to see reason."
"Is that even possible?" Leliana asked. "I know your relationship with him, Inquisitor, but thinking objectively; is a man who has planned to destroy the world going to stop if we ask nicely?"
"It's not going to be that simple, Leliana," Nimwen replied. "But there is a chance. Unlike Corypheus, Solas feels he has to end the world, he doesn't want to."
"Which makes trying to convince him all the more difficult," the Divine pointed out. "If he is willing to commit an atrocity even he himself doesn't want, what is there left to change his mind?"
"A man who believes there is nothing left to lose but love. Who is lost in the belief his actions will undo his greatest crime is not always beyond reason," Mahvir stated from where he had had been listening to them in silence. "Solas believes in repeating the past, he is undoing all the pain he caused our People. No one ever said the first of our People were easily swayed against their beliefs, but Lady Nimwen has already gotten him to see value in this world. He is far from beyond hope. Besides, the first of the Elvhen can't be killed in the sense you understand. He would vanish for a time then return and try again, bitter towards the world with nothing left able to sway him."
"This is true," Leliana said. She turned to Nimwen. "You hold more influence over Solas than you may believe, maybe even more than he would care to admit. If anyone can change his mind, it's you." The Divine bit her lip. "And perhaps another."
Nimwen's eyes widened, realizing what Leliana meant. "No."
"If he knew, there's a chance-"
"We are not using her, Leliana," Nimwen snapped. She gripped her teacup until her knuckles were snowy.
"Besides getting a child that far behind enemy lines would be dangerous. By all that's holy, getting Nimwen behind enemy lines will be hard enough." Mahvir smiled. "And myself if possible."
"I was not suggesting we try and bring a two-year old into enemy territory," Leliana scowled, as if offended at the accusation. "I was merely suggesting that perhaps informing Solas he has a daughter might give him more incentive to not destroy the world."
"And he's going to believe me?" Nimwen replied. "I didn't tell him about Lori when we were in the Crossroads, granted I was too busy being in agony to speak, but regardless I didn't tell him. So, how is he going to believe me when I say out of the blue he has a child?"
"We are getting several months ahead of ourselves," Mahvir stopped whatever Leliana might have been about to say. "The first matter of business is waylaying his attempts to find what's needed to power another Anchor. He has part of what is needed, the very base of it from the original. He will need more than the power he's gathered over the past two years to enter the Fade let alone tearing down the Veil."
"Right then, if you have any insight as to where he will go next, I would like to hear it," said Leliana.
"My spies within his group have learned he is looking through the remains of the ruins he visited years ago with the Inquisition for any power which might have been overlooked there. I checked the one in the Exalted Plains on my way here, there are many there as well as at the Temple of Dirthamen."
"We picked both of those apart years ago," Nimwen said. "What else could be there for him to take?"
"The creators were said to be meticulous about how they hid their most powerful artifacts. According to my agents, Solas believes Dirthamen would have hid his away where none but Dirthamen or one of his closest followers could find them. Whatever the reasons, Solas has his people looking through those ruins." Mahvir bowed his head. "I regret I could only get close enough to gather information from a few of my informants. I know nothing else of what he could find in either place other than both were of Dirthamen's territory."
"We have to look into this as soon as possible. I will-" Nimwen paused, realizing what she was about to say. She looked down into her teacup. "I will get others to head out to Dirthamen's Temple and the Dirthavaran ruins."
"I will send a few of my people as well," Leliana said. She looked to Mahvir. "Thank you for coming to us."
"I believe we have a chance together and it is better to try than sit around waiting for the end to come." Mahvir smiled Leliana. "I hope this a start of a good partnership. All my knowledge and resources are at your's and the Inquisitor's disposal."
"Good." The Divine turned to Nimwen. "Is there anything else you needed?"
"No, it's fine," Nimwen replied. "You can return to your paperwork."
"Thank the Maker," Leliana said sarcastically. "And you can return to Lori. I am sure the little Lady is missing you."
"I'm sure she is." Nimwen stood, placing her tea back on the desk. "Thank you for your time, and the tea." She turned to the other elf. "Come along, Mahvir."
"My thanks, your Perfection, Divine Victoria." He stood and bowed to Leliana. Then, he followed Nimwen out, still favoring one leg. "She's not dead," he teased the guard when he took his staff. "Just doing paperwork. Suppose that's the same thing as wishing you were dead."
Nimwen chuckled. "Careful, Mahvir. I don't want to go down to the dungeon to bail you out."
"I think my ravens would beat you to it," he stated with playful smile. They moved off together. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, Mahvir pulled Nimwen aside. "There might be away we can join your troops on this mission," he whispered, eyes intense.
Nimwen's brows rose. "What?" she whispered back.
"You send servants, right? Just a small group? I can teach you to hide among them without notice. We can help them."
"That might be easy for you, Mahvir, but do you realize how many one-armed, vallaslin wearing, female elves there are in the Inquisition? There's one, and you're looking at her."
At this he snorted and flicked his wrist. "Hiding the marks on your face is the easy part. Hiding how you act, that's the hard part. Once you act like a servant no one would look twice at you, one-armed or unable to breath and walk fast. It's the perk of being an elf in a human controlled world. No one notices you."
Nimwen sighed. "I appreciate the thought, Mahvir, but I don't know. Even if I did pull it off, what use would I be once we got there? I wouldn't be allowed near any of the valuable information and even if I could pass for a servant I doubt I could any real work. I'm still not use to...this," she said, waving her stump angrily. "I'd just be, useless...a waste of space."
"Never think that," Mahvir told her. "You're arm didn't make you, you. Your arm is just a part of you and you can learn to live without that piece of you. You can learn to be just as capable with that one arm as you were with two. There are only a few things two arms are better for. Stop thinking of what you can't do and think on what you should do. Then set out to figure out how to do it."
Nimwen opened her mouth to speak, but found herself lost for words. She closed her mouth and looked down, at her remaining hand. She sighed, clenching it into a fist. "I...you're right," she said to Mahvir. "Ir abelas, lethallin, it's just... so many things have changed and, this has been one of the hardest. But I must stop making excuses," she told him. "I refuse to let myself be useless. Even if the world doesn't want my help I still want to help it. So, I'll go on that trip, whether as the Inquisitor or as a servant."
"Now, that is the spirit to have." Mahvir smiled at her. "You could go as Inquisitor as well and kick your soldiers in the head whenever they try to baby you," he pointed out.
Nimwen chuckled. "My kick is not my strong suit, though I could bop them over the head with my staff. I haven't used it in a while, aside from when I caught Lori using it for dress-up-" Her eyes widened. "Lori, who would watch Lori? There's no way I could sneak away if I ask somebody to take care of her, and the only ones I trust with her are going to be the people trying to keep me from going."
"Then go as the Inquisitor and tell them you are still you with or without an arm. And you can still be of aid to your men." Mahvir placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have to show them you're still capable and they will stop questioning, but only if you can stop questioning yourself."
"I-I suppose so," Nimwen stuttered. She wanted to be ready, but was she?
Mahvir sighed. He placed his staff on his back. "Honestly, you're worse than Deceit!"
Before Nimwen could protest he had taken her shoulders, spun her around, and was stirring her down the hall back towards the padecks. His grip wasn't strong. In fact his hands felt weak, almost frail against her shoulders.
"W-what are you doing?" Nimwen squeaked. She could have easily broken free of his grip, but she was too in shock do actually do so.
"We are going to show your soldiers you are still the Inquisitor and are still capable to leading them no matter the situation. Then, you are going with them to the ruins as their leader and not as a servant," Mahvir declared.
"I-hold on!" Nimwen finally snapped out of it and pulled herself from Mahvir's grip. "We are getting ahead of ourselves here. Before we do any of this, I want to check on Lori."
Mahvir staggered when she broke his grasp. He only just caught a wall to save himself from falling on his face. "I wasn't saying we were leaving just yet. Your soldiers don't even know what's going on." He pulled out his staff and leaned against it. His eyes locked on her. For a moment it looked almost like Solas was staring at her instead of Mahvir. "I'm not going to kidnap you and take you on some wild run through the country where you'll never see your daughter again. That's suicidal of me. Besides," - he smiled at her - "life is too short to not try living each day as if it were your last."
Nimwen was taken aback. She searched his face for that spark of Solas, but like a gust of wind, it was gone, and it was just Mahvir before her. 'What is going on?' she asked herself. "So…" she began, unsure of what to do now. "I promised Lori we'd eat lunch, you could join us if you'd like? I take it you're not doing anything at the moment."
"Not turning down free food, that's what I'm doing." His smile widened. "Just a warning, Fear and Deceit have this sixth sense. They always seem to know when I have food."
"I'm sure Lori would love to see them again," Nimwen joked. "Come, the Divine was kind enough to let us stay in the old Seekers' quarters. It's much nicer than you'd assume."
"And hopefully not too far." Mahvir fell in beside Nimwen, his pace just as slow as it had been on the way to see the Divine. Whatever energy he had to stir her down the hall seemed to have vanished. He was favoring one leg even more than he had been before despite the staff.
"So, where do you plan on staying while you're in Val Royeaux?" Nimwen asked.
"I planned on not staying in the city. I hear they arrest people for sleeping on grass." He gave Nimwen a teasing smile. "I don't exactly have money," he confessed. "And I don't like begging for shelter."
Nimwen scoffed. "Well no need to beg, you can stay with us," she said. "Consider it repayment for helping us."
He stopped at her words, eyes narrowed. "That still feels like I begged for it."
"Well, regardless you're staying, so, deal with it," she smirked.
"If there is no convincing you otherwise, then very well. You've my thanks, Lady Nimwen." He bowed his head to her. "Though, I wish I could give more than my thanks."
"I'll consider your company extra payment."
Mahvir laughed. "Very well." He bowed with such elegance to her, he appeared as an noble to a lady they wished to dance with. His cloths contrasted with such a move it was almost humorous. "Then, shall we find the little lady?" he held out his hand to her.
FW: And the stranger helps to push Nimwen into action :)
HH: -Nothing like a random stranger to help motivate ya!