Your level of communication is shameful. You wouldn't have had a problem with the keeper if you had your full proficiency with words in her language. This week is going you are going to focus on matching your command of your native language in this new one.
"You want to learn more?" Paivel's question could use less disbelief in your opinion. "You've made so much progress in just two weeks and you're still not satisfied?"
Obviously, you're not learning this language for the sake of learning so improvement doesn't matter, only results. For example, you have no way of expressing that thought other than, "Yes."
Paivel was a dead end it seems, he has no further writings to study and is too busy to simply talk to you. It looks like you're on your own for this week.

Your progress during the week is slower than you would like. Without any good texts to use and no teacher, your only effective option is to dedicate your time to striking up conversations around the camp. Unfortunately for you, there are relatively few conversations that manage to stretch your linguistic prowess beyond what you are capable of. Though practice is increasing your fluency, you had hoped to learn more grammar and vocabulary this week. One good thing does come of your failures this week is the realisation of how many elvish words are used in casual conversation. It is about halfway through the week when you stop to consider your options. You could continue to study the base language of 'Thedas' which would help you learn faster. You could pick up the study of Elvish, which would likely help your image among the clan if you could get someone to teach you. Finally, you could spend the rest of the week writing poetry, it would stretch your linguistic skills further than regular practice but will take a long time to show any benefit, since it needs someone to critique it in order to be useful practice. You ended up deciding that if you wanted to truly understand your surroundings Elvish was your best option.

The question of who to ask to teach you Elvish is a tricky one, Paivel would be the obvious choice. That said, he's also the one you've asked to teach you things the most and it's clearly starting to annoy him. Not to mention that he has already refused to teach you more language, there's no reason to think he will change his mind now. You could ask Auriel since she seems to like you, but she's a hunter not a teacher. Your best option might be the keeper. She's teaching Merrill so there's some credentials and she's aware of your origins and why you might want to learn the language. Besides, if someone doesn't yank her out of that existential crisis of hers, that you might have accidentally started with the revelation that other worlds existed, people might start to accuse you of witchcraft or something else equally ridiculous. With a decision made it is a matter of minutes to reach the centre of camp. You knock on the keeper's wagon and await a response.
"Go away." Is the reply you receive.
"Keeper. Please to teach me Elvish." You reply as if you had not heard her.
One of these days she is going to figure out that you take orders like Moryo takes insults; poorly. There is a short silence before the keeper opens her door and pokes her head out. Her hair is a mess, and you think she might still be in her sleepwear. Surprisingly the markings on her face are still clear. There's clearly more to them than mere face paint.
Her eyes narrow and she asks "Why do you want to learn Elvish?"

"I want to learn. I want to understand everything. To understand the Dalish, the world. I want to speak to people in their language. Further I want to know, for the chase of to know is best pursuit for all life." Your voice is filled with passion as you speak.
The weight of millennia of Noldor tradition mixes with your own belief to carry in your words, granting them a weight that they might otherwise lack. The keeper seems taken aback by your words for a few moments. Then her eyes gleam with some inner fire and she speaks.
"Yes, the search for knowledge is indeed the greatest pursuit one can undertake. Wait there a few minutes while I get dressed. I'll teach you our tongue." The door then shuts. Apparently she was in her sleepware.

True to her words a few minutes later her door opens and the keeper walks out dressed, though her hair could still use some work in your opinion. Elvish proves much harder to understand than the other language. You think it's the lack of hard consonants. You keep inserting unnecessary hard sounds into words. It also requires you to unlearn a lot of the bizarre phonetic rules of the other language. Comforting though a consistent phonetic scheme is it's a jarring change.

Your sessions with the keeper continue through the week. You make some progress but you're not quite able to start using the words you're learning in day to day conversation. Near the end of the week you finally get the chance to ask a question you've been meaning to ask since the conversation about your origins.
"Around camp, many to call me shemlen. What to be shemlen?"
The keeper seems surprised for a moment before she replies. "It means quick children, it's what we call humans." You desperately contain your laughter at the idea of these vaguely atani striplings calling you a child. "Though I suppose you're not human if you're from another world. What are you exactly?"
"I to be a Quendi, often to call Eldar. We to be the first to walk beneath stars. We to take a long trip west. Many quendi to choose to stay before reaching our home, Valinor. My people the Noldor, to keep to go all the way. After many millennia of peace we to go to war. War to be very big, against Enemy of World. Noldor to be very great warriors, but Enemy to have army of no end. We to win, but only because to help from other Quendi, Atani and Casallië."
The keeper is silent for a few minutes, she looks at you and asks, "Did you fight in that war."
Your face twists with the complexity of your emotions; in the end you can only reply, "Yes."
The keeper stares at you for a few moments more, then she speaks. "We should return to your studies."
Your next few lessons through the week are notably absent of similar questions. It likely has something to do with how she keeps looking at you strangely during your lessons. Whatever she was feeling or looking for it seems to have done her some good. By the end of the week, she is seemingly back to her old self. Perhaps even slightly more determined in her duties. During your last lesson of the week, she asks if you know her name. Upon receiving your affirmative as you've heard it used around camp a few times she tells you
"If you're going to be my student then you should refer to me by my name. I don't want you to refer to me by my title unless it you are speaking to me as the leader of this clan. Do you understand Nelyafinwë."
You're surprised by her firm tone of voice and the glint of determination in her eye. You also think her use of your name feels a bit forced. Despite these concerns she doesn't ask for anything you're unwilling to do, so you agree.

One of the very first things you noticed about the Dalish warriors was their lacking quality. They may be considered acceptable in these lands, but they would not have lasted a month during the War of the Jewels. This was already concerning to you when you were just staying in the camp but now that you have unofficially become the leader of some of them it has become imperative you do something about it. At your command your hunting party, and Auriel for some reason, assemble in the small space set aside for practice. There is little here in the way of room or tools for training, the small area of packed earth has a few straw dummies for basic drills and little else. Such limits are irritating but all that is strictly necessary to make a good warrior is a good teacher and time, other tools simply make it easier. Fortunately, that Dalish have you, an excellent teacher with infinite time. With that in mind you have your followers begin to run a few drills and simply observe.

You've come to realise that you mean something slightly different when you say warrior when compared to what the Dalish mean. Among the Noldor being a warrior is a profession, much like a smith. The Dalish instead use the word to refer to a role played by someone, like a sentry. It seems a subtle difference but what it actually means is that these 'warriors' are actually hunters. Their primary skills lie in their ability to stalk prey and shoot accurately. Useful on the battlefield archers may be but they lack discipline, and their swordsmanship skills suffer as a result. It also leads to the problem that the Dalish lack a strong frontline to keep enemy melee combatants from reaching the archers and losing their main advantage. The 'warriors' of the Dalish are not so much an army or even a warband, they are a militia. This is probably why they keep to the forest as much as possible; it would let them primarily fight in ambushes and generally avoid a pitched battle. Idly you wonder if that had been why the army from your vison had counted atani in its ranks, to make up a frontline for the archers. Their lack of skill is not your only concern. Regardless of what the local craftsmen claim, stiff leather is not armour. Good steel will shear through it with ease and many layers of thick cloth would serve much better in battlefield conditions and be cheaper besides. At least their swords are made of metal, though it would be nice if they were all the same metal and not an eclectic mix of iron and various qualities of steel. Unfortunately getting good steel armour and weapons is beyond both your power and budget right now. You do resolve to ask for the creation of some proper gambeson from the weavers, assuming you can find them.

Equipment concerns aside it's time to start drilling your warriors properly. Marching in formation is the first thing they'll need to do and you're a little out of practice yourself. You lead your party in a marching column, which to your surprise goes somewhat well. The first day ends with good natured grumbling and sore legs from the people who had to follow your pace with much shorter legs. It reminds you of the days of bringing Moryo's atani allies up to an acceptable standard, which brings a smile to your face. Once you are alone you need to decide what you're going to teach your warriors going forward.

You decide that it's best to focus on what your followers are already good at. Archers are always useful, and you can get some frontline combatants elsewhere if it proves necessary. It will also give you an excuse to practice your archery for the first time in five centuries. The first thing you do before you meet up for your second practice of the week is look into securing some better bows. This results in an extended argument with Ilen, the tribe's smith/fletcher/tanner/general 'master' craftsman. Specifically, the topic was on how large a bow should be. He presented the argument that a bow should be as small as practicable for hunting purposes. You pointed out that you wanted a war bow which should be as tall as the archer who wields it as a general rule. Eventually a compromise was reached where he would spend his time making a small set of war bows to practice with if you brought the materials. With that done you head to the practice space to begin running through speed and accuracy drills.

Your training focuses on coordinated fire, and on speed and accuracy in which your followers improve at by leaps and bounds. When the first practice bow arrives, they're sceptical, particularly when they realise that the draw weight is much higher than what they're used to. This scepticism is put to rest after you pick up the bow and send arrows into a target clear across the practice area without aiming up even a single degree. As you had hoped they take your speed and accuracy with such a mighty bow as a challenge and throw themselves at it. Their dedication pays off as, with you correcting technique and giving them exercises that will let them practice in their own time, they are all capable of drawing and loosing at their old speed with the new bow by the end of the week. They don't entirely abandon their older weapons as the short bows are still useful for hunting, but they can all be seen practicing with war bows every day. You're not satisfied yet, they're not a match for a Noldo, but soon they will be.

The big surprise of the week was Auriel. She was already one of the best shots of the group, but your demonstration seems to have lit a fire in her that sees her staying up late into the night practicing with a war bow. When, on the final day of practice, she manages to match you in accuracy, though not yet in speed, her entire face lights up with joy. She looks at you and makes some strange gesture. After asking around about it is seems that it means something akin to 'I'm coming for you'. Apparently, she was something of a local champion at archery and intends to eclipse your skill in archery. You are just glad that she has an understandable motivation. This land has thrown far too many surprises and bizarre standards your way in the last few weeks.

You decide that Auriel's rivalry with you should be encouraged. It will grant her the motivation she needs in order to chase the furthest horizons of skill. That it will allow you to polish your long unused archery skills is only a useful side benefit. You spend that evening refamiliarising yourself with a bow and considering how best to approach such a contest. Part of you wants to simply practice in secret, motivated in part by shame of how rusty you are. You eventually decide against it, appearing to simply be untouchably skilled without any practice would be far more disheartening than motivating. The next day, after you have finished drilling your archers and they begin moving away, you take up a bow yourself. You begin to run through the motions of drawing and firing as slowly as you can. By doing so you impress the movements once more into your body and mind, true speed is born from proper technique after all. Auriel has also remained and is sending arrows at targets on the other side of the clearing. You spend easily an hour simply going through the motions incredibly slowly to the sound of her arrows hitting their targets. Then, as the shadows begin to lengthen and the afternoon moves into evening, you take a deep breath and loose your first arrow of the day.

With barely a glance to spot your target your bow rises smoothly, the arrow already coming back to your cheek. You don't sight along the shaft so much as you perceive the entire range including the target. You feel the flights brush against your cheek and in the next heartbeat your arrow is speeding downrange. You strike not the centre of the target but right where the eye would be on a real person. The arrow buries itself half its length into the hard wood. It's a perfect shot and everyone here knows it. Turning to Auriel you smile widely and, bowing, gesture to your arrow. You then stride downrange to retrieve your shaft, despite having another nine you could fire. The strangled cry from behind you has notes of rage, awe and fierce determination. If you are any judge, you have successfully designated yourself as a worthy challenge. When you have retrieved your arrow and have turned to leave, you see Auriel practicing the motions slowly, much as you had earlier, with a ferocious look of concentration. Her determination brings a smile to your face.

Your drills and practice have attracted no small amount of attention from the various hunters in the clan throughout the week. You see more than a few of them watching you as you practice. Some seem to be scornful of what you're doing. You understand their distaste, you're teaching battlefield tactics not hunting techniques. Others are fascinated, still others have a gleam in their eyes that you don't like at all. Your followers seem to be pleased with your direction, especially with the drills about how to handle being suddenly attacked in melee. It seems they still remember the bear attack and hope to avoid such embarrassment in future.

By the end of the week another hunting party starts to come to you for direction and advice. They ask if they should join in your training and coordinate hunting schedules with you. It seems the sight of you training your own group and your general competence at the things hunters respect has won you more loyalty than you would have expected. It is quickly becoming clear to you that this clan has been starved of truly outstanding warriors for some time. You notice the blonde leader watching you quietly after this development. He doesn't seem hostile but there's definitely something about this situation that sits ill with him.

One of the hunting parties has reported sighting a herd of wild horses travelling up the river. Apparently, they've come from the Kokari Wilds. The news is a surprise to you; horses are plains animals, what are they doing in a forest? Whatever the reason, you're not one to look a gift horse in its mouth; or allow a pun to pass you by. You set off to see this herd for yourself and to catch a few, more domesticated animals will only help the tribe, and a horse would make travel much easier. You call your followers together and set off early one morning. The trip down the river is relatively peaceful and makes you wonder if you should bring up the possibility of making some simple boats to facilitate river travel. You think there's a town somewhere down the river too which could make trade easier. After a few hours you catch sight of the herd and it's bigger than you expected.

There are nearly fifty horses in a few small bands scattered around a large clearing. The horses themselves are probably descendants of feral horses because they are very large, much larger than most truly wild horses you've seen. Their coats are largely some kind of dark colour, usually brown but there are a few greys and a black or two. To your delight there seem to be more than a few males, mostly juvenile but nothing that time won't solve. There's a good chance that if you include Maren, the keeper of the Halla, you'd be able to get most if not all of the herd. Once it's secured, the clan will be able to start breeding them and in just a decade or two you will have the whole clan on horseback. Yet even as you think this your eyes drift towards the stallion that leads the herd. He's magnificent, larger again by half then the next biggest horse and with a sleek black coat he would make a perfect mount for you. The herd entire would likely follow their stallion. The problem is that he is clearly a fierce creature. Just by looking at him you can tell he is not the kind to accept a rider easily. Your followers are all looking somewhat nervous. They have little experience with horses and will likely need you guidance if you want them to be helpful.

It takes almost no time to decide that you are going to catch that stallion. Does it matter that you have never caught your own horse before? No, it can't be that difficult. You motion for your followers to remain in hiding and cautiously walk towards the magnificent black. You extend your hand and mind together, reaching for that instinctive connection that your people make with their surroundings. A great black head turns to face you. Dark eyes that glimmer with intelligence meet yours and powerful muscles tense in response to your approach. You only have one chance to do this. You gather your will and focus on the stallion.

As you reach out to touch the mind of the horse you are surprised to find recognition, not of you personally but of what you are. The creature whinnies in greeting and trots over towards you. This horse is called Orundómë, moving twilight. He is the lord of all horses in this world and he has ridden north to escape a great scourge in the wilds. It is difficult to translate how he thinks of you, 'one who lives in harmony with the world' is the closest you can get to the feeling with words. A brief exchange of feelings and intentions has him agreeing to lead his herd back to where you live. He has a single condition; he refuses to be ridden by any other than you. He also has strong feelings about reigns and saddles, specifically that they have no place on him. He's reassured when you tell him you never had any intention of using them in the first place. With a few quick steps and a leap, you seat yourself upon his back and call your followers out of hiding. They seem surprised both by your ease astride Orundómë and the lack of any reaction from the rest of the herd. Once you have explained what has happened to them you decide to teach them to ride. Doing so will both be a useful skill to learn and increase the number of teachers for the others back at camp. The fact that you will look extremely impressive riding back to camp with the herd on your heels never crosses your mind. Not even once.

Your followers seem to think that reigns and a saddle are needed to ride a horse. After thoroughly proving that they are wrong in this belief, you begin teaching them the correct way to ride. Finding them a horse that matches their temperament is your first challenge but with fifty to choose from you manage. Once that is done you spend far too long, in your opinion, teaching them how to get on. No, they don't need stirrups or a stool, they need to get better at jumping. Then teaching them to read the horse's body language and how to give commands with knees and feet. You have to tell them that spurs would be cruel, they can just tap their heels on the horse's flank to let them know it is time to move or speed up. It is an exhausting process, one that fills your heart with sorrow for the horses of atani. It is however one that you succeed in. Your followers marvel at how responsive to their commands the horses are and greatly enjoy riding around the clearing. Orundómë is pleased with your treatment of his herd and you all set off for camp. Unfortunately, you don't get to experience his full speed or stamina as you must move at the speed of the youngest foal. Nevertheless, when you arrive at camp people are suitably impressed by the sight of such a large herd, your followers and you riding at their head. Not that you care.