It is the last day before you lead the Chasind to your home. You slipped from the village early in the morning, disappearing into the mist. As far as a roughly eight foot tall, brightly dressed Eldar can disappear anyway.
You want to get a rough idea of how many darkspawn are ahead of you and where they are. The mist slowly clears as you cover the ground between the village and the forest. Sometime around midmorning your investigation is interrupted.
From behind you, without warning, you hear a mocking female voice. "Well. Well. Well. What have we here?"
You whirl to face the voice, heart racing. How had this person come upon you without warning? A thousand thoughts fight to be the one you act on. From this chaos emerges something you would never normally say.
"What on earth are you wearing!?" You ask in complete shock.
The woman blinks once, before she begins to laugh mockingly. "What's wrong with the way I dress? Does it make you uncomfortable?"
The woman has middling length dark hair, gathered together into some kind of messy tail. Her amber eyes glimmer maliciously in a pretty enough face, for a human. Her clothing seems to consist of undergarments, a set of pants that have clearly been put together out of scraps and a red scarf of some kind.
Given the way you are under constant attack by insects, you would have thought that those who lived here would want as much skin covered as possible. You will never understand humans. As your shock begins to fade, you notice the wooden staff she carries, indicating that she is likely a mage.
The woman continues to laugh, but the time she has taken to mock you has given you time to catch your thoughts. You ready your will to prevent any magic and rest your left hand on the hilt of your sword.
"Forgive me. I was taken off guard by your sudden appearance." You apologise to the woman. "Tell me, who do I address?"
"Oh? Playing the well-mannered guest now, are we?" The woman asks faux innocently, moving her staff forward to lean on. "I see no reason to answer your question, after all I asked first."
To your shame it takes you a moment to remember what she is talking about. "I am Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol Maedhros, called Brightstar by the Chasind, eldest of the sons of Fëanáro."
"Oh my, what a distinguished name." The woman replies tauntingly. "I'm afraid I have nothing quite so grand to my name. I am Morrigan." The woman pauses a moment. "Eldest daughter of Flemeth, if you must know."
You incline your head. "And what brings the eldest daughter of Flemeth here in such, dangerous, times?"
Something about your response disappoints the woman, and she lifts her head away from you. "Perhaps I simply noticed a strange giant sneaking through the woods and wanted to know what he was up to? I am more than capable of taking care of myself however dangerous 'the times' are."
You weigh up your options, and shrug. "Very well. I have business elsewhere, farewell daughter of Flemeth."
You turn and begin to walk away, ears straining for the sounds of magic being cast.
"Where do you think you are going?" Morrigan calls out to you.
You turn back to face her, to see her scowling at you. "I have pressing business; I cannot entertain every child who wanders over to gawk at the 'giant'."
"Child?" The mage asks, lips twisting into a sneer. "You have some nerve."
"I do not appreciate my time being wasted." You reply, also abandoning any pretence of civility. "What do you want?"
Morrigan glares at you for several moments. "My mother wishes to speak to you."
You are tempted to walk away, simply out of spite. Your conscience interferes, you are unwilling to leave anyone behind in this darkspawn infested marsh.
"After you then, lady Morrigan." The mask of civility slips back on as though it never left.
This Flemeth lived not too far away from the border of Ferelden, getting there took some time. The house itself is a ramshackle construct with countless support poles and several levels. As you approach you feel a familiar unease begin to settle on you. Something is ahead of you, something old and powerful.
"Wait here." Morrigan informs you before entering the house.
You spend some time trying to discern what exactly you are sensing, when Morrigan returns with a companion.
"Who is this then Morrigan?" The companion, who wears the guise of an old woman, asks.
You ignore Morrigan as you focus on the creature behind the mask. Ancient and powerful as you had sensed before and continuing to elude easy definition. While your thoughts race to identify the creature, it acts out a minor family squabble with Morrigan.
Finally, you interrupt the act the creature and the woman are putting on. "What are you?"
The two fall silent. Morrigan is glaring at you again, seemingly preparing to resume your verbal sparring. The creature speaks before she manages to.
"I could ask you the same question, Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol Maedhros." Your eyes meet its neither giving an inch. "Why should I answer you? Especially when you are being so rude."
"If you wish to know what I am, I am happy to tell you." You inform the creature. "I have nothing to hide. I am a Noldor, of the Eldar, eldest of the sons of Fëanáro and lord of Himring. What are you?"
"Meaningless titles." Flemeth, or so you assume, replies. "I could just as easily say that I am a mage, a witch of the wilds, mother of Morrigan and owner of this hut."
"Then we are at an impasse." You state flatly, gathering your will in preparation for violence.
"It seems we both have something the other wants." The creature states. "In such situations it is traditional to trade, yes? I will answer your questions and you will answer mine."
"How could I trust your words? You could easily lie." You reply, "Besides I only want to know what you are, if you have arranged this meeting, I assume you have more questions than that."
"You have the same guarantee on the truth of my words as I have on yours, none." The creature does an excellent imitation of an old woman disappointed in the youth. "Are you sure of that? Do you not have questions about the darkspawn? About the Chasind? I have lived here a very long time, you would be surprised by what I know."
Despite your caution, you do admit that you see no other way to discern what exactly you are dealing with.
"I have no better suggestions." You reluctantly agree with the creature. "Ask your questions, then I will ask mine."
"What a polite young man you are." Whatever it is, it certainly acts like Morrigan's mother. "I believe that I have already asked my first question."
"You wish to know what I am?" You ask neutrally. "I have already answered that question."
Disturbingly human like eyes glitter with amusement. "Meaningless titles, as I said. I want to know what you are, not what you call yourself."
You do not trust this creature even slightly. Despite this you have a hunch that that she plans to answer your questions in the same way you answer hers. Perhaps it is her easy agreement to your demand that she lead with her questions. This in hardly a concern to you, lying is not in your nature.
"As I said, I am an Eldar, a prince of the Noldor, Eldest of the sons of Fëanáro and lord of Himring." You begin.
You are interrupted by a mockery of a chiding grandmother. "Yes, you did say, there is no need to repeat yourself. I'm not going deaf you know."
"I was establishing a basis for my explanation. It is good pedagogy." You force through gritted teeth.
"Very well, do get to the point though. I'm not getting any younger." The thing replies.
"The Eldar are the firstborn, the ones who dwelt in Arda before humans first came. The Noldor are those among the Eldar who seek knowledge of steel and skill. Among the Noldor Fëanáro was the mightiest, and the first in line to the throne."
Somewhat vindictively you continue despite the surprise of your audience. "A prince is a rank of nobility, often given to the sons of kings but can be given for other reasons. A lord is another title, and Himring is a fortress in northern Beleriand."
"You're an elf?" The creature asks.
"I believe I have answered your question. Now it is your turn to do so." You state.
The being disguised as an old woman glares at you, but bound by her own rules obliges.
"I am Flemeth, The Witch of the Wilds. You may recognise me from the tales." You do not, and do not hesitate to say so. "Oh? You should, it's quite the tale. Perhaps it is simplest to say that I am an apostate who lives in the wilds."
"You cannot fool me." You hiss. "You are no human, nor are you merely a mage. What. Are. you?"
The creature smiles at you. "I believe I have answered your question, now you must answer mine."
For a moment the two of you stare into each other's eyes, neither willing to cede ground on the matter.
In the end it is Morrigan who breaks the deadlock. "Are you certain you haven't heard the tales. They do say that mother was possessed by a spirit of vengeance, and you seem convinced of that fact."
Flemeth takes the time you are considering that possibility to ask her next question.
"Are you an elf?" It says, with a degree of intensity you had not expected.
"Not as you would understand an elf, no." You reply distractedly.
You have not lied; the Eldar and the Elves are only similar in concept. Your thoughts are primarily occupied with the question of possession.
After some thought, you decide that the creature is not an abomination. You remember how Merrill felt when she was possessed, this is not that sensation. Admittedly, time and the death of the original mage might have caused the feeling to change, but you doubt either would be enough to render it unrecognisable. Besides, you have seen very little vengeance from something supposedly defined by it.
For a time you and the creature were both consumed by your thoughts. When you arrive at your conclusion the creature is still deep in thought.
You take the chance to ask your question. "Know you the Ainur or other travellers from beyond the circles of the world?"
"No." The creature responds without hesitation. "Unless you mean the spirits of the Fade, but I would not say such things are from beyond the 'circles of the world'.
The creature shakes off whatever thoughts it was considering. It seems to be falling into some kind of rhythm now, as its next question comes almost as soon as its answer finishes.
"How did you come here?" It asks.
"I know not." You reply flatly. "I simply awoke in a clearing in Brecilian forest. I know nothing of how I arrived there."
Ignoring the creature's displeasure at your answer you ask your own question. "Is there a concoction to drive out the darkspawn taint that you know of?"
It tilts its head back and laughs mockingly. "Why on earth would you believe I know such a thing?"
Sensing an opportunity, you respond. "Because 'mages' who are beyond the Circle's control often have unusual insights into magic. That is two questions you owe me now."
A flash of rage crosses this Flemeth's face, it is quickly gone but you notice it. "No. I know of no such thing. Ask your next question."
"This is the last question I will ask. At one point in the 'Fade' I was attack by a great wolf spirit. Do you know who or what it is?"
The creature smiles mysteriously. "Perhaps it was Fen'harel, the god worshiped by the Dalish. Such tales often have some kind of grain of truth to them."
You still have questions you would like to ask, but you allow it to seem as though this 'game' has come to an end.
"Enough, I tire of this game." You state firmly. "Is this the part where you reveal your nefarious plan and attack me?"
You can tell that the 'Witch of the Wilds' has further questions, but she seems willing to leave it there. In the moment before she responds, you can see she has reached the same realisation as you; as long as the two of you continue to dance around each other's questions neither will learn what they want.
'Mother' and 'daughter' share a mocking laugh at your words.
"Whatever makes you think that?" The young woman asks.
The creature however takes your words more seriously. "I will not attack you unless you give me reason to. If you will not cooperate, then be on your way."
Your eyes narrow. If this thing truly has no other intentions other than an interrogation, then you simply have no idea why it summoned you. For a moment you are tempted to simply leave, but your curiosity ultimately gets the better of you.
"For now, I will continue to play your game, 'witch of the wilds'." You inform the creature. "I have thought of another question, so you may go ahead and ask another of your own."
The creature places a hand beneath its chin. "Oh? I thought you said you had asked all your questions? Perhaps I too have tired of this 'game' as you call it? Why should I answer?"
You keep a level stare at the creature. "You summoned me before you, I doubt you had no reason to do so. I recall that you were frustrated by my answers, so you have yet to accomplish whatever you summoned me for."
The creature considers you with what might be a slight glimmer of respect, too quickly gone to be certain. The woman next to her looks on with clear anticipation.
"Very well." The older seeming of the two concedes. "I suppose I have one or two more questions. What are you plans?"
You idly toy with the idea of simply say 'secret' and leaving it there. But this question you have few concerns with answering.
"That would depend on what plans you are asking after." You reply, hoping that a detailed answer will get you more from your own question. "In the short term, I intend to evacuate as many of the Chasind from this area as possible. In the long term I intend to find a way to return home, recover my brothers and finally rest. Ultimately? Who knows, that will depend on many things that have yet to transpire."
The creature in the shape of an old woman looks at you with her head cocked for a long moment.
"What was your next question?" She finally asks.
You bend down and begin to trace the markings you had seen on the fur of the great wolf that had attempted to prevent you leaving the Beyond.
"What do these markings mean." You ask, pointing to the drawing.
The creature tilts her head once more, studying the markings. "This is the emblem of Fen'harel. They are not words per se, more like a banner or insignia."
You smile, grateful to see that the choice to give some more detail has paid off. "Thank you, however before you ask another question, I have something I want to ask outside of this game. What do you want?"
"That hardly seems to be outside of our game as you call it." The woman begins, but you cut her off.
"It very much is. Why are you doing this? What do you want to get out of it?" You press. "I said that you brought me here for a reason, a reason that still has not been fulfilled."
There is silence as the woman looks at you coolly. You reflect on the events that have transpired and sigh.
"I suppose this is partly my fault. I was not expecting you to be… whatever it is you are." You incline your head. "I was on the defensive in a way I would not have been if you were human and for that I apologise. If either of us are to achieve anything here, it is clear we need to put aside this enmity."
For a long moment the creature stares at you, then she shakes her head and chuckles. "Self-reflection? What an unusual trait in the young."
"I assure you; I am far from young." You reply.
Your first inclination was to say you were older than she was but given you do not know what she is that might be foolish to claim.
"Oh?" The creature asks, clearly interested. "And how old are you?"
"I believe I asked you a question first." You reply.
"Ah, but it was you who insisted I go first in the little question exchange." Flemeth replies.
You sigh, she is correct. "I have seen more than one thousand years as you would reckon them. The maths is complex and if I would not do it for my friends, I am certainly not doing it for you. Now answer my question."
The 'old woman' examines its staff, seemingly ignoring you on purpose. You can tell that it is readying itself for battle beneath the cover of annoying you. You ready yourself for the worst.
The rising tension is broken when Flemeth speaks. "A little over six months ago the Veil screamed as something broke through it. Not a demon, or other such thing, but something it was designed to prevent. I had little interest in the matter at the time, but then I noticed a beacon in the Fade. My curiosity grew, and when the beacon came into my, 'neck of the woods' as they say, I had to investigate."
The creature assumes a much more obviously combative stance and power crackles around it. "I ask you now, are you one of the Ehlven?"
You roll your eyes. "No, I am of the Quendi. Related, but distinct, hailing from beyond the circles of your world."
The woman stares at you, eyes hard, the human by her side belatedly readying herself for battle. "That is not a very convincing lie."
"Because it is the truth." You reply. "Whether or not you believe it is hardly my concern. Now put away the magic before I decide that this is a threat rather than posturing."
"Are you threatening me?" Flemeth asks, almost amused.
"No, I am warning you." You reply.
With a flex of your will, the magic around you vanishes. Flemeth looks at you, one eyebrow raised.
"You think you are the first Templar to think to slay me?" She mocks.
"That was not for you." You reply, calmly. "It was for Morrigan."
The two of you stare at each other. For a moment you think she is going to attack you, but she scoffs.
"Be off with you. I have no interest in this pissing match." She waves her hand at you.
You find that somewhat hypocritical, considering she started it. For the sake of ending this farce sooner rather than later, you do not comment on that.
"One moment." You say as the creature turns away. "You still owe me a question."
Flemeth pauses, and you can tell she is fighting back her annoyance. "What is it?"
You think for a moment, looking at the sun and considering how much time it would take to get back to where you were. You could ask about her nature again, but you think you have a better idea.
"It I was travelling to Brecilian forest with around three hundred Chasind, what would I need to be aware of?" You ask innocently.
Flemeth turns to face you, and Morrigan is staring at you like you have grown a second head.
"You did interrupt my scouting and waste my whole day." You point out, amused.
You have to say, Flemeth gives excellent scouting advice. A bird's eye view one might say. You wonder if she can talk to animals like Turko.
Martin took several deep breaths. He could do this; he'd had a week to plan it out and had even spoken with his boss on what the overarching plan was. Despite this his throat was dry and his hands trembled. Having total control over the buying and selling was a new experience. He had always had Nelyafinwë present at some point during the week to react to the changing conditions, but not this week.
The elf had left halfway through last week and would not return until the start of next week. Now Martin was left truly alone to face the merchants from the Dalish and local villages.
"I can do this." The merchant reminded himself.
He had done so before and would do so again.
Overseeing the exchange of meat for fruit with the Dalish is always nerve-wracking for Martin. The traders were friendly enough, but their tattoos looked fierce and there was an undercurrent of mistrust in their words. He would still take dealing with them over what he is currently doing.
Over the last few months several barrels of fine wine have been maturing. The time has come to sell them off. The problem is that there isn't a good way to transport them. Martin simply could not carry them all in his hand cart. It's so heavy, he just doesn't have any idea of what to do.
"Hey!" A voice calls out. "What's the matter?"
"Thank you for this." The trader told the two warriors who accompany him.
"Don't worry about it." The younger of the two replies. "We had nothing better to do."
The two warriors found Martin quietly panicking staring at the pile of barrels he had to move. The two had proposed improvising a cart and pulling it with their horses.
"I still feel bad. I mean, you must have jobs and I wouldn't want you to lose pay because you were helping me." Martin continues, embarrassed.
The older warrior shrugs. "I doubt boss will care. We mostly just train and patrol anyway."
Given who had chosen to help Martin, he is tempted to try to equip the whole force of Endataurëo. The wine he sells supports his decision; four gold pieces is more money than he has held at one time. Yet it is that very same weight that stays his hand. He had learned in his time as a merchant that the first thing people tend to do when they acquire wealth is waste it. He did not want to fall into the same trap.
"Would you like me to buy something for you?" He asked the two warriors who had accompanied him.
They looked at each other for a moment, then shrugged. "We're good. Honestly, if we want anything we'll duck out and spend our own money. Best save the boss'."
Feeling a little guilty for forgetting whose money exactly he was spending, Martin decided to limit what he was spending to a single 'item'. Given that such items often involved more than one literal item, it turned out to be a wise decision. Nearly a full day of searching, haggling and quality checking yielded a full suit of steel plate armour, a shield and all the weapons that an infantryman would need.