"Merrill, do you have a moment?" You ask.
Merrill pauses from hurrying down the corridor. "Uh. Maybe? Is it important?"
"Not particularly, just more work on my book." You reply.
Merrill shifts awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm kind of working on something important. Another time?"
"Certainly. You must feel as though I only speak to you when I need something. My apologies, I have been busy with expanding the base and Ranger's emotional crisis. We will return to your lessons soon; in fact, I probably have some time this week." You muse, stroking your chin.
Merrill brightens up for a moment, then subsides. "Oh, that would be wonderful. I would love to, really, but I'm too busy right now. First thing next week?"
You laugh. "Certainly, I will even go so far as to take Xandar this week so you have time to finish what you are working on."
Merrill smiles widely at you. "Thank you Nelyafinwë! I probably won't see much of you this week, sorry."
You laugh again, waving a hand. "Do not concern yourself with it too much. Be safe."
Had you not been walking away, you might have noticed her face twist with guilt.

With your usual point of first contact not available to you, it is now necessary to travel in order to address your questions on Dalish life. You have established much about their songs thanks to your efforts last week, you have also been given their entire oral history by Marethari. The only thing you are missing is their tales. Almost none of the songs you have learnt were the ballads you are used to, so you have not gathered much in the way of stories of the great and small. Though, reviewing your notes, you have no shortage of more mundane tales to use.

You mount Orundómë, reminding your guards to not get so wrapped up in their practice that they forget to guard the walls. Then you stop, you have an idea. You go back into the main complex and find Xandar.
"Oh wise teacher! It's so great to see you again. How may I serve you?" Xandar gushes upon seeing you.
"No need for that, student. There should be no talk of service between us, for several reasons. Merrill is busy this week, so you I will be teaching you. Come, I have many other things to do and we can have your lessons on the ride." You tell your zealous former hermit.

You and Xandar ride towards Lanaya's clan, you will take the time to teach him on your way to the Sabrae clan. While you ride you consider the topics you are going to be covering with the clan. You need their tales, but you suspect you are going to have to prompt them on what you mean by the questions. You could ask about historical figures, or about their morality tales. There is also the question of who you ask, the Keepers are probably not the best source for this question but they might know.

The question of what to investigate is one that divides you. Between the possibilities of investigating the Dalish's morality and their history you see solid arguments in favour of both. What a culture values, and how they teach those values, are as important as the stories they tell of their history. You are torn though; would it be wiser to ask the common people or the keepers about morality. The people live the lessons, but it is the keeper's role to ensure that they are passed on exactly as they were conceived. It is this indecision that settles the internal debate. You decide to seek out the common variants of the history Marethari has given you. You may know the broad strokes of their history, but you know little of the agents of it. Folk stories and local legends often give a more complete picture of such persons, even if they are mythologised.

You are met by the sentries, once more well after you see them. The trade between peoples have lessened some of the tension between humans and Dalish but, due to your base serving as a trade hub, that has not spread throughout the entire clan.
"Who's this then?" The sentry growls at you.
"I am Xandar. Proud student of Merrill and the messenger of the Maker!" Xandar gets out before you can stop him.
"I reiterate that I am not a messenger of anyone. Sorry, he is my student. Please forgive his comments. He is deeply religious but harmless." You say calmingly.
The sentries scowl at Xandar, a long cultural memory of harm from his religion colouring this interaction. "Why should we let him into our clan?"
"So that I can ensure he will not cause any trouble. I will be with him the entire time, and you may send an escort if you wish." You negotiate.
More scowls, but ultimately your compromise is agreed to.

The most common story you get is that of the clan's founder. Unfortunately, they are cagey as to what the name of said founder was, but the stories all agree on what they did. The tale goes thusly, the founder was an elf of great insight, and had long warned that conflict with the humans was inevitable. Despite his or her, which gender the founder was changes between each telling, warnings the preparations were hampered by fears of causing the war they sought to avoid. The founder began gathering supplies and preparing to flee. A decision that was proven very wise when the Emerald Knights were overrun and many people survived by fleeing in the aravels and living off the gathered supplies.

You are also told many stories of the Emerald Knights themselves. An order of Elven warriors sworn to defend the Dales. When a new elf took the oath, a tree was planted in their honour. The knights seem to be to the Dalish as princes are to your people, heavily romanticised with many a tale told of them. From Atyin the wise, who tamed a dragon with a song, to Delynn the mighty, who single handedly slew 'an abomination most foul'. You note them all down, nearly twenty heroes named with feats of strength, cunning or magic to their names.

You would consider this more than sufficient for your purposes, but you get a bonus you had not expected. It is called 'The Tale of the Red Crossing'.
"Now sonny." Hahren Fina tells you, chewing on some kind of plant gum. "This ain't a tale people like to tell. Yer writing this down yeah?"
You look up from your notes, page covered in writing so small it is hard to read, to give her a flat look. "Yes."
"Great, wanna get the truth out there. Chantry got all them clergy to write down their version so I figger it only fits we get to tell the real story." She falls silent for a long moment.
"The story being…" You prompt.
"Gimme a minute sonny. Young people these days, so impatient." She grumbles.
You are on the verge of shaking the woman until she starts her story when she finally begins.

"If you ask the Chantry how the war with the Dales started, they'll say we attacked. Truth is a raiding party went to retrieve an elf who'd turned his cloak. No one is sure how things go started, but some human girl died, and then the fight broke out. Emerald Knights against angry civilians, you figger how that would go. Turncloak died, turned out he hadn't been betraying us anyway. It was all a big misunderstanding."
The old elf falls silent. You scribble down every last word. You have so many notes in the margins, questions you have and observations about how she told the tale.
"Thing most people don't want to admit, is that it's partially our fault we got into the war. Red crossing was the start, but it wasn't the cause, just the leaf that broke the halla's back. We cut ourselves off from trade, didn't help in the blight, and all but executed every missionary the chantry sent. What were we expectin' really?" She spits her gum out. "Anyway, I'm done. Go away now kid."

You have gathered enough material for a book, you will still go to the Sabrae clan to verify everything that was said but you do not need anything new from them. There is obviously more you could learn, but that would turn the book into an enormous monstrosity no one would read. Now you are faced with the task of turning your mess of notes and observations into something coherent. As a result, you have to ask yourself what kind of book you want to write.

You rode away from Lanaya's clan sometime in the afternoon. You are not going to reach the Sabrae clan before dark. Given Orundómë cuts the travel time in half you are likely to have time for at most three lessons with Xandar, two on the road and one in the clan. Given that you will likely use the day you spend at the clan to continue your questions that leaves you with two lessons. These are your thoughts as you keep an eye out for a good place to camp, somewhere defensible and relatively sheltered. Xandar yells a question which you can barely understand over the rush of wind and the thudding of Orundómë's hooves.

You urge Orundómë to stop, and once he has done so you turn to Xandar. "What did you just say?"
Xandar seems uncomfortable as he asks. "When are we going to stop? I'm getting very tired."
You do not sigh, but you want to. "We need to find somewhere we cannot be easily snuck up on and that is relatively sheltered from the wind. I may have an enchanted cloak that will keep me warm, but you do not."
To your surprise Xandar perks up at that. "I know a place like that. Not too far from here there's a cave. I think it used to be some kind of animal's den, but it was empty when I was in the area."
"Lead on then, we will go slowly so that you may guide us." You reply.

Xandar proves to be correct in his assessment. He leads you to the cave he mentioned, which is empty. You note that the area smells musty and mildewed, as though it has been abandoned for some time. You also note the bones of animals, large ones, strewn here and there. You wonder what kind of creature used to live here, and if it intends to return.

You and Xandar gather up firewood to keep you warm and help ward off predators. Xandar lights the fire with a spark of fade energy and an expression of fierce concentration. In the flickering light you finally get around to talking to your student.
"How have your lessons with Merrill been going?" You ask.
"They're really great. I never knew so many things about the Maker's gift. I've been learning all sorts of useful things." He says, beaming.
"I can certainly see you have learned much, your control is greatly improved." You compliment him.
His already wide smile grows yet more. "Thank you! I work really hard at it, Merrill is so learned and I have a long way to go to catch up."

You absently feed the fire some of the larger logs. "Be patient, no one becomes a master overnight."
He nods rapidly. "Of course, I just want to be helpful."
"Rest easy, I swore to aid you and aid you I shall." You tell him. "On the topic of aid, what has Merrill been teaching you? Beyond magic, that much is obvious."
"Well, she's been walking me through mundane healing as well. Something about knowing more about a subject making you better at it." He tells you.
"Is that the case for you?" You ask.
"I don't really know, no one has really been injured enough for me to practice." He grimaces as he replies.
"I hope you will take no offense if I say it is a problem, I hope you continue to have." You inform him.

You want to teach your student everything. You want to share your observations of the Beyond and the energy within. You discard that option quickly though. It is too close to the spirit school of magic, and thus likely to confuse him. Your meeting with the sentries has also brought his continued not quite worship back into focus. You would dearly love to address his misunderstandings of the world, explain your own nature and how it relates to the One. Yet, you have attempted to do so before, he has closed his ears to you. You may be the greatest speaker among your brothers, and perhaps your entire people, but you cannot convince someone of something they do not want to believe.

Ultimately, you agree with Merrill. Learning mundane healing will be beneficial for your student's understanding of the magic he is learning. You are also a firm believer in the power of skill. Why use magic if there is an equally effective mundane option?
You speak to inform your student of your decision. "Very well, our lesson shall focus on that then. I am no mage, but I have some skill as a healer. Tell me, what have you already learned of those arts?"
"Well, we've covered some of the useful plants in the forest as well as started on some of the basics of anatomy." He eagerly supplies.
You nod in understanding, considering what you can teach him of the healer's arts.

You are not a healer of any great repute. You know little of human anatomy, and what you know of other kinds has more to do with ending lives than saving them. You know much of stitching and binding wounds to prevent blood loss, but you are keenly aware that those you have practiced on are both immune to infection and capable of living through far more than a human. You do have one very important piece of advice you can pass on though.

"It is very important to clean your tools, bandages and the areas you treat people in well. With hot water if possible." You inform him.
"Why teacher?" He asks.
You raise a finger and state, with as much gravity as possible. "I have no idea."
The expression your student makes is hilarious, and you laugh at the sight. "I jest, partially. I have only observed the results rather than personally been involved in them, but cleaned equipment induces a much higher survival rate in humans."
"Oh." Your student looks up at you, like a child learning from a parent. "What if you don't have hot water?"
You shrug. "I have seen many attempted remedies, some use herbs I have not seen in this land, others used honey on dirty bandages, still others used alcohol to clean because the water was fouled. One inventive sort used a wrap made of lettuce if you can believe it."
"And that worked?" Xandar asks, amazed.
"No, it did not." You state

You do not get much else done before Xandar is overcome with exhaustion. You allow him to fall asleep and lean against a rock, facing the entrance of the cave. The slowly dying fire at your back casts your shadow far into the night. In the dim starlight before you the blade across your knees glitters in contrast to the deep shadows. You focus on the blade, entering the waking sleep that will see you ready to meet any threat. Your next lesson will take place when you return from the Sabrae clan, you need to focus it on something you understand better than healing in general.

When you arrive in the Sabrae clan, you waste no time confirming what you learned at Lanaya's clan. There is almost no difference in the tales. You do learn that Sabrae, the founder of the clan, has a different tale about the founding. They were some kind of heroic individual who concealed a group of elves with magic. You came to a decision regarding what kind of book you will write.

You have hardly come this far only to bury your discoveries such that no one else will ever read them. It would also be a betrayal of trust to try to publish the book as widely as possible. Simply making a single, easily accessible, copy is the best solution. You will need something with which to bind the book, but you have a pretty good idea for that. You are currently in the Sabrae clan, and you know for a fact they produce a great deal of leather. A short conversation with the tanners has you acquiring a length of leather that is too stiff for their purposes. You also borrow a needle and some thick thread from one of the tailors.

Making the book is a troublesome task, one that has you cursing the relative clumsiness of your hands more than once. You spend an hour cutting your roll of paper into the appropriate size for binding. Then you make the holes necessary for the thread to pass through. The real challenge is when you are stitching the paper and leather together, you are constantly getting the thread tangled and having to start over. It makes your eventual success less of a triumph and more of a relief that you are finished. A relief that is tempered by the fact that you still have to write the book.

You review your notes with great care, extracting your conclusions from the evidence that supports them. Carefully organising the tales you have gathered into some kind of coherent order. Chapter after chapter is filled in with evidence, conclusions and observations. Your penmanship is as precise and neat as it ever was, but you cannot help but wish you were a true scribe to make it beautiful. You reach the end of your notes, having written all that you have learned from the Dalish. You still have some space left, and you pause. There is one thing you would like to write into the book, but you are uncertain if it would be wise.

Merrill already knows, and this is very much meant to be your perspective. You add your theory of the origins of the Dalish. You doubt the Dalish will care much for the addition, but it is one you feel must be made. You do your best to highlight that it is just a theory and provide the Dalish's own explanation for context. As you read it over you sigh. There is no way this does not make the Dalish furious. Nevertheless, it is done. Your every observation, all the details you were told, recorded as you were told.

You flip back to the title page to add in the dedication, title and author. You go back and forth on what to write as to who the book should be dedicated to and what you should say. Finally, you make your decision

The Songs, Tales and Oral History of the Dalish Elves.

By Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol

Son of Fëanáro

With thanks to Merrill and Marethari without whom I would not be here

May they find their way home

Merrill is the reason you met the Dalish in the first place, and it is thanks to her and her teacher that you walked among them for as long as you did. You would include Paivel, who taught you the language, but he hates you and does not deserve a mention. The message you write is one all the Noldor would agree with. Whether they return to the Dales or not is unimportant, but to be without a home is not a fate you wish on those you care for.

You ride away from the Sabrae clan at last, your new book in the saddlebag Orudómë still seems resentful to be carrying. Xandar clings onto your back, a reminder that you need to teach him again later this evening. You have fleeting thoughts about teaching him to be a battle medic or delve into the skill of purifying dark taints. These thoughts are quickly put aside. What you need, what the base needs, is someone who understands disease. You yourself will never experience it and have little knowledge of such matters. You do know enough to get him started though.

You camp in the same cave you did on the way to the Sabrae clan. While you prepare your dinner, you entertain idle thoughts of making it some kind of waystation. Such thoughts are for another time though, now you focus on your student. Despite the flickering firelight, his eyes remain fixed on you as you begin the lesson.
"What do you know of disease?" You ask him.
"Sometimes people get sick, they feel bad and sometimes die. It's a punishment from the maker for the misdeeds of man." He states, confidently.
You take several seconds to recover from that statement. "No. That is just… Why would you even think that?"

"The maker turned the magisters who dared to break into his palace into darkspawn. I see no reason why normal disease should be different, if lesser." Xandar says, earnestly.
You rest your head in your hands in despair. "I assure you, nothing that is evil stems from the One. It is only in the perversion of his creation that evil is born. The first darkspawn would have sought the One's dwelling because of their corruption, not the other way around."
"But Andraste said… No, it must be another lie of the Chantry! Thank you, teacher, for revealing this to me! We should tell everyone!" Xandar rockets to his feet, fervently yelling.

"Sit down." You command, looking up; when he has obeyed you continue to speak. "We are having a lesson on disease, as it is something you will be confronting as a healer."
Xandar scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh yeah. Sorry oh wise one."
"You are forgiven and call me Nelyafinwë. Disease is not a divine punishment, or at least no more so than any other misfortune."
"So completely then." Xandar interrupts.
The only reason you do not glare at him is because it would not help you teach. "No. While the One does work largely through 'coincidence' not every misfortune is a sign of his displeasure. Sometimes bad things just happen. Disease is a product of a number of natural phenomena…"

You spend an hour detailing your understanding of disease. How different diseases appear to have different causes. How they can spread through the air, or through water or many other things. You explain the importance of cleanliness, and how some people are more affected by disease than others.
"Would prayer work? To cure people, I mean." Xandar asks at one point.
You shrug. "I have never seen it help. An entreaty to the Valar directly would, assuming they agree to help. That is not something I consider prayer though."
"But isn't the Maker all powerful?" Xandar continues his line of inquiry.
"Listen, if you want to pray that people get better, knock yourself out. But give them appropriate treatment first." You say, no longer willing to argue the point.
"Yes teacher!" Xandar replies with great cheer.

While you are returning from the Sabrae clan, you find yourself cursing the rough terrain frequently. This, naturally, reminds you of your road project that was so foolishly rejected by the other partners of your trade network. You think you have given it more than enough time to let them come around to the idea and it would almost certainly be met with far less scepticism. You decide to stop off and visit Lanaya once more before you drop Xandar back at Endataurëo.

As you approach the Dalish clan you consider how you are going to construct the road. Your previous plan had made use of your easy access to the Beyond in order to furnish materials. You do not know if it is even possible for you to do so now that your soul is free of the Beyond. It is almost certainly more complicated than simply closing your eyes, however.

You consider your options, of which, to your surprise, you actually have several. You could buy the stone that is needed, you cannot quite afford enough for everyone but even paying partial price would make it significantly easier to convince people to begin construction on their sections of the road. You could also offer to hire the labour if they are willing to purchase the materials. There is also the option to simply use your improved grasp of diplomacy to convince your other partners to take on the work at their own cost.

You might also be able to get something done through Ursular, who should be returning next week. She will likely see the benefit considering she travels on some kind of underground highway system. You have also heard that dwarves are, as in your homeland, skilled builders and miners and stone is likely far cheaper for her to acquire. You could take her a message.

Whatever you do you are going to need to talk to at least one person to convince them to let you build a road in their territory. You have to struggle to prevent yourself from grabbing Orundómë's mane too hard at the thought of the 'noble' you had spoken to. Hopefully the merchants of her land have started to wield what influence they have. If you have to deal with her smug condescension again you are likely to do something unwise.

You are going to pay for the labour. It is likely to be the most pressing concern for the leaders who refused. They are likely willing to pay for the stone needed if you are willing to supply the labour needed. The prospect of taking a message to the dwarf is tempting, but far too slow. You would likely spend most of your time travelling there and back again. You turn Orundómë towards Lanaya's clan, grateful you do not need to turn around and attempt to convince the Sabrae clan.
"Where are we going teacher? I thought we were going home?" Xandar asks from behind you.
"We are making a brief stop!" You yell over the sound of Orundómë's running.

You are escorted to Lanaya with only some fast talking on your part. Coming on business is a much easier route into the camp then simply showing up for your own project, understandably.
"What brings you back here so soon Nelyafinwë?" Lanaya asks. "Is there news from the Sabrae clan?"

"The Sabrae are well Lanaya. I have come to revisit the question of building a road. I am planning on hiring a number of workers to build it, and I ask that you provide the stone." You say, hoping that the conversation will not require you to get off your horse.
"That is quite the ask, it would require a great deal of stone, and for what?" Lanaya asks.
You are about to respond when, to your surprise, another Dalish interrupts.
"We need it. It takes so long to get to and from anywhere. Without a way to the villages easily we are entirely dependent on Endatario."
You wince at the mispronunciation of your home's name.

You do not end up needing to convince Lanaya much yourself, it seems that the merchants are looking to expand their influence in your trade system. It makes sense, since the Dalish produce much more than either you or Gladesville. You notice Hahren Fina is throwing her weight behind the proposal. You suppose she recognises trade's ability to align the interests of the local humans with her clan's. You are just happy to have an excuse to get out of here quickly. You drop Xandar back at Endataurëo and fetch something for a gift, you have a noble to visit.

"Leave or we will make you." The pasty human steward tells you when you ask for an appointment.
"You and whose army?" You ask. "I am not leaving until I see the person in charge of the area."
"Guards!" The steward calls.
The two men who step forward are fat, ill dressed and their weapons are rusty. You draw yourself up to your full height, letting your cloak fall back to reveal your armaments.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" You ask, staring the steward in the eye.
The pasty man swallows, and from the clinking sounds you think the guards behind you are trembling. "Fine. We have a fifteen minute slot available. Don't cause any trouble.
You slouch forward, letting your cloak cover your armour and your true height be concealed. "I assure you, I am the soul of civility."

You storm into the noble's office.
"What are you doing here? I gave specific instructions." She says, rising to her feet and puffing herself up like a bird.
"Your inability to inspire loyalty is as obvious as your inability to rule effectively." You reply.
"You dare…" She hisses.
"No! You are not going to speak. You are going to sit, and I am going to explain to you the monumental mistake you are making."
Such is the force of your presence, unchained at last, that the noble is in her seat before she even fully registers your words.
"Your people are, as we speak, in desperate need of food. The Teyrn's men are confiscating every scrap of spare food. A wise ruler would account those as the taxes for the year, but as we established you are not a wise ruler. As a result, your people are desperate for the bounty of the forest. A bounty I am more than willing to provide."

The noble puffs up, but you know what she is about to say and head her off. "Unlike your human merchants, I am not in the habit of price gouging the desperate. This road is vital to the survival of your people, it will make getting to me and the Dalish far easier. It is even in your own interests, the merchants who profit from the trade will pay you the taxes you are owed for such business. You do not even need to use your own manpower, I will hire the workers. The only things I need from you are stone to work with and your permission."
The noble meets your eyes for the first time since you arrived, and wilts. "Fine, build your road. There's a bunch of stone in a warehouse, you can use that."
You slide a page towards her. "In writing please, with your seal of course."
The woman snarls at you, dashing out the words and pressing her seal into wax. "There. Happy?"
You give her a wide, beneficent smile. "Extremely."