Weekly Report

Something interesting was included in the usually dull goings on reported by your informants. Teyrn Loghaine is riding about his realm, performing inspections of the troops and generally acting like he's preparing for something soon.

Unfortunately without a source closer to the nobility you have no way of being certain why he was doing so. It could be routine, though the oncoming Blight makes you doubt it. In fact, you would actually like to know a bit about the readiness of your neighbours for said Blight.

A smile creeps across your face as you put down the last note. You have been meaning to visit your neighbours recently…

A Friendly Hunt

It has been some time since you spent time with Ranger. Admittedly this is more of a compliment to the man than it sounds, he has not had any disasters impending that you needed to deal with. Still, you feel somewhat guilty for leaving the lonely old man bereft of your company for so long.

Thus, when he invites you on a hunting trip, you are only too eager to accept.

"Ya know I don't mind, right?" Ranger asks in response. "I get ya're busy and there's plenty of other folks around. Plus, I keep busy doin' the forestin' around here."

"I understand that, yet it sit ill with me to leave one I have claimed friendship alone for periods of time that I understand to be great." You defend your decision.

"I thought ya were a thousand years old." Ranger teases.

"I am older than that." You reply defensively. "But, while I am unbound by the chains of age, you are not. Besides, weeks without seeing someone who is in the same building is quite different from weeks without someone two weeks ride away."

"I saw ya at meals and we chatted occasionally." Ranger points out. "I say that there's nothin' to worry about, and if ya don't want to go ya shouldn't feel obliged."

"From the way you speak, I almost wonder if you do not wish for my company after all." You tease him in turn. "If you do not wish to go hunting with me, I will hardly force you to."

Ranger rolls his eyes. "Don't be an ass. Whatever, change out of that bright red jangling nonsense. Don't want you scaring away all the game."

"I would have thought you would welcome the challenge." You jest.

Ranger rolls his eyes again. "Jus' get it done."

Finding the drab clothes that you use for hunting was a challenge. Despite have created a number of suitable clothes for those who dwell in your domain, none fit you. It is incredibly difficult to find something you can comfortably wear when most humans struggle to reach your chest in height.

Ranger snorts when he sees you. "I'd forgotten how silly you look in that getup."

You glare at him. "I hardly see you volunteering to wear clothes sized for those more than a foot shorter than you."

"Yeah, but that'd mean I'd be wearing children's clothes…" Ranger trails off. "Ah."

"Yes. Your entire race is remarkably childlike." You comment, somewhat vindictively. "That is not a matter for the moment, let us away."

"Ya got it m'lordship." Ranger replies mockingly, accent thickened deliberately.

This 'banter', as you believe it is called, continues as you depart. Who is the one making the comments that mock the other varies several times. Both you and Ranger are the kind of proud that demands the other's teasing be answered, it makes for a contentious conversation.

A conversation which peters out once you emerge from the relative darkness of the building into the bright morning light of the courtyard. The sudden change in environment sees both of you shielding your eyes rather than speaking. In this silence, you take the opportunity to bring up something you that had been bothering you.

"If we are to hunt, would you care to extend it into a trip towards the Dalish?" You ask.

"We can't be takin' the roads if we're lookin' for quarry." Ranger objects reasonably. "Otherwise, sure, but I don't much see the point."

"I have to spend the majority of this week travelling." You explain. "Any time saved on the journey is time well spent. Since we will be travelling and tracking anyhow, I thought that it would be an opportunity to catch two birds in one hand."

"Ya mean hit two birds with one stone?" Ranger asks.

"No!" You exclaim. "That is horrible, why would I do such a thing?"

"Ya realise we're goin' huntin' right?" Ranger asks.

"I do, but hunting is different from mindless cruelty." You explain disdainfully.

"Ya know what, I don't want to know." Ranger says. "We're gettin' your horse I assume. Should we pick up the hounds while we're there?"

"That would depend on what kind of prey we are hunting." You muse.

Ranger grins, "I heard from some of the villagers down in Gladesville that there's been some movement among the local wolves." Ranger says.

"I have heard nothing of wolf attacks." You reply thoughtfully. "Though I imagine that the walls and guards would do much to dissuade them."

Ranger shrugs. "Don't know anythin' about that, but I do know that wolves don't change their territory for no reason. Checked it out and sure enough there's a bear in these woods."

Your brows draw together slowly. "Are you suggesting that we should hunt this bear?"

"Yeah." Ranger says, slightly confused by your reaction. "Figured ya like a challenge and it seemed like the best choice."

You chew your lip in thought. "Does this bear truly need to die?"

Ranger gives you a disbelieving look. "Ya know what huntin' involves yeah?"

"I am aware." You snap at the human. "Yet the gap between a hunt for food and one for sport is wide as an ocean. Animals hunt and eat, that is merely a part of life. To hunt for the sake of a challenge… It sits ill with me."

Ranger pauses in thought. "What exactly is the difference? Killin's killin', whatever the reason."

Your command of language fails you, Thedaslta lacking the words to enunciate what you wish to convey. The Mabari about you pick up on your distress and push into your legs, whining and licking in sympathy.

You shoo them back and gesture helplessly with your hands. "It is as the difference between eating solid food and a slurry, it is not as things should be."

"People eat slurry, especially if they're sick or old." Ranger points out.

"That is not… What I am attempting to say…" With a shout of frustration, you abandon your attempts to explain yourself. "I do not wish to kill things that need not die."

Ranger gives you a cautious, considering look. "Tell ya what, we'll go check out the bear. Odds are, if it's runnin' the wolves off somethin's fishy. If it is, then we go ahead with the plan, if not then we'll try somethin' else."

"You have my thanks." You state, somewhat contritely. "It is not my intention to dampen this activity, I truly do wish to spend time with you."

Ranger dismisses your concerns. 'It's fine, I already know ya're a weird one. Shouldn't be surprised it came up here."

The way one of the Mabari barks as though in agreement feels a little personal.

The two of you creep through the forest, hounds loping easily by your sides. The mid-autumn sun filters gently through the leaves, casting a rippling shadow upon the floor of fallen leaves and roots. Ranger claims to have found a trail, but you do not see one yourself. The dogs seem confused themselves, unable to lock onto any scent.

"Are you certain that we are on the right path?" You ask.

"Should be." Ranger responds cautiously. "I don't see how anythin' other than a bear could've made these marks."

"Would something the size of a bear not leave a larger trail?" You insist. "I may not be the greatest tracker, but I like to think that I am at the very least capable of following something as wide as you are tall."

Ranger laughs. "Common misunderstanding actually, bears are only that wide when they're overeatin' for winter."

You give the human a disbelieving look. "Ranger, it is mid-autumn. Most bears will be well on their way to full weight for their coming hibernation."

"Further north or sure." Ranger concedes. "We've got temperate winters here, most native bears don't hibernate since the food doesn't go anywhere."

"Very well." You agree cautiously. "I still feel as though this trail is not that which we seek."

Ranger grunts in acknowledgement, clearly concerned himself though he clearly still believes this is the correct trail. The hounds continue to run about, seeking without finding.

The two of you continue to follow the marks for a short time, then Ranger shakes his head.

"We should've seen more signs by now." He mutters. "And the dogs shouldn't be this distracted."

Your reply is cut off by a great roar as the beast you were seeking barrels through the tree line to smash into Ranger. Immediately you can tell that this is no ordinary bear. Great spurs of bone jut from its body in all directions, and your senses can tell it reeks of darkness.

The hounds raise a great cry as Ranger slams against a tree and slumps forward.

The hounds leap at the bear as you break towards Ranger. You cannot afford to stay and fight, nor do you wish to risk yourself and the hounds by treating his wounds at this moment. You plan to flee. Some might call your actions shameful, but most of those Eldar died in dragonfire.

The hounds are trying to keep the spiked bear at bay, but the creature seems to care nothing for pain or injury. Your resolve firms. You will carry Ranger, and call the hounds off to accompany you as you flee. While a bear is surprisingly fast, with clever tactics, the hounds can engage in a fighting retreat.

These thoughts flash by in mere seconds, as you reach Ranger's prone form. A quick glance reveals that he is still breathing, which is a relief. He seems to be unconscious, which is a worrying sign, and there is blood and swiftly forming bruises all over his body. With a grimace you reach down to haul him up and over your shoulders.

A lance of pain shoots up your right arm. Muscles long left unused screaming in protest as a great weight is put upon them. Your wrist snaps backwards with a sickening sounding crack. Your entire body lurches violently to the side, and the pair of you crash into the ground.

The growling and barking of the Mabari seems to redouble in sound. The bear roars, and you start to hear whimpers mix in among the other sounds. You try to struggle to your feet, but another spike of pain punishes you for forgetting about your injured wrist.

Through the haze of pain and the snapping and snarling sounds you force yourself up once more. A good half of the Mabari have fallen already, whether injured or dead you cannot tell. With gritted teeth, you reach down once more, determined to get Ranger out of here.

You keep your injured wrist in mind this time, and use your left hand, and long experience of one handed operations, to hoist the fallen human over your shoulders. You take a deep breath and dare a few moments to let his weight settle on you. It is a lot, but nothing you cannot carry.

You throw the fallen human over the back of Orundómë and urge him into a gallop. A sharp whistle, followed by a barked command sees the hounds disengaging, crashing through the trees to catch up with you. You hear the lumbering sounds of the bear's approach, but you do not even need to give commands to the dogs.

Entirely of their own initiative, without any communication you can see, a small group of the hounds peel off and rush back towards the bear, halting its approach. Soon after, another group peels off, presumably to take a position further back for the dogs to retreat to. A sensation like the wind rushing by suggests that either you are moving faster than you think, or the Lady is aiding you.

You are not sure how long you run, but eventually you realise that the sounds of pursuit have faded away. You slow down and take stock of your surroundings. You are not far from your road, which is fortunate as you wish to return to Endataurëo and get Ranger medical attention.

The Mabari's numbers have been savaged. Despite your best efforts, they have taken the brunt of the wrath of the bear. Their losses are significant. Several of the remaining four have injuries. They are trying to conceal their injuries and failing.

Looking from your fallen friend to the tired, injured hounds, many of whom lost their lives to the bear, black poisonous rage snakes around your heart. It is a rage you remember well, the same rage that drove you to the Oath. Not quite the same degree, admittedly, but the same kind.

Looking at the cost this bear has levied upon you, there is an overwhelming temptation for revenge. Who cares that it is merely an animal, likely driven mad by the pain dark magic inflicts on its victims? Your rage demands blood.

You simply stare, rage slowly draining away. You refuse to allow your grief and pride to drive you to foolhardy measures once more. With a sigh, you urge Orundómë to a run once more. Though you worry for forcing the Mabari to injure themselves more, you need to get Ranger to Endataurëo for medical attention.

You barge into Minhowen, the elven healer's, room Ranger in your arms. A short exchange sees her beginning to treat the human.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask.

"No!" The elf snaps. "The last thing I need is some untrained bystander interfering just to try and 'help'. Get out!"

"As a matter of fact…" You begin.

"Out!" The elf yells.

You grit your teeth and leave, unwilling to risk forcing your help upon the woman. You decide to throw yourself into your other tasks to drown out the worry you are feeling.

The Stag's Head

You have begun a project to resurrect the Elvhen language. Your ultimate aim is to have it serve as the primary language, and native tongue, of the ones of the dale[1]. That said, you have many other projects in motion at the same time, as such you have entrusted the task to others.

This week, you intend to establish how they are progressing. This ties neatly into your plan to visit the Sabrae as well. So, now that your hunting trip with Ranger has ended, you saddle Orundómë and ride towards Lanaya's clan.

It takes a bit of careful riding to reach the road, and from there it is a short trip to the Dalish. It gives you just enough time to review what you did earlier in the day before you left with Ranger.

You had begun with a short conversation with Merrill over breakfast. Her tribe had made relatively little progress on the matter as they had been distracted by Merrill's project. You believe the project in question was a means of spreading Merrill's rediscovery of immortality. Good for them.

Then you had visited the Dalish who live in your home. They remained, and you believe they still remain, quite skittish around you. Still, you had managed to engage them in a somewhat halting conversation in their original language. Their fluency was reasonably high but the tended to default to Thedaslta for complex or rare terms.

Now you are riding towards Lanaya's clan. You decided to focus your efforts here primarily. In part, this was driven by a desire to not disrupt the presumably delicate procedure of returning immortality to a group of half-elves[2]. The greater part was the hope that this would act as something of a peace offering to Lanaya.

Admittedly, you fully expect an argument about 'intruding on Dalish business', but you are confident that of all the things you could do, returning the Elvhen language to its people is the most conciliatory to her objections. After all, you have no intention of maintaining any kind of control over grammar or, dare you even think it, slang.

You swear you can feel your mother's glare for daring to use the horrid word.

You ride past the scouts, who are grumpy about your arrival but not actively obstructive, which is an improvement. Lanaya makes you wait a time before she agrees to see you, a rather common display of power among humans. Admittedly, some quendi are guilty of the same, but doing so is the sign of a rather petty individual so most avoid it.

When you finally meet with the Keeper, she proves somewhat hostile.

"What is it this time?" She asks testily.

"I thought to inquire as to the progress of spreading the Elvhen language among your people and offer my services in spreading it further." You reply politely.

"What's it any business of yours?" Lanaya asks. "It's not your language is it shemlen?"

"Did I not teach it to you in the first place?" You ask, keeping your temper in check. "I would see to it that all elves speak their native tongue, for there is no greater injustice than to take from a people their language."

Lanaya's brow takes on a thunderous cast. "We spoke OUR tongue, long before you came among us. How dare you claim to have given it to us! It makes me wonder how true your own 'expansion' of the tongue is. Perhaps you have simply invented new words to fill the gaps."

"I believe I told you that I found the remnants of an Elvhan of old, from whose knowledge I gleamed the full extent of the language as that spirit understood it." You explain through gritted teeth.

"A likely tale." Lanaya scoffs. "That you should find a fragment that we all missed, that it should contain knowledge we desire."

"Your own warriors attest that you rarely enter the ruins." You defend yourself. "Further, even if you were to have found the sprit you would have lacked the skills necessary to discern the language."

Lanaya meets your gaze coldly. "I see."

"We have allowed ourselves to depart the topic." You attempt to return the conversation to more neutral ground. "How goes affairs in the tribe?"

For a long moment Lanaya is silent, you can see her thoughts turning in her head. There is some ember of friendship there, for nothing so egregious as to split the two apart has occurred, merely pride and ancient hurt that smothers it. Yet, you watch in equal parts anger and sorrow as the ember is slowly drowned beneath that pride and hurt.

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Lanaya responds shortly. "If that is all, I have business to attend to. I cannot be entertaining every passing vagabond."

"Very well." You say tiredly.

The Sabrae will have to take up the greater part of your attention this week. The only question is what you intend to do while there.

The ride away from Lanaya's clan is a sombre one. Orundómë senses your mood and attempts to comfort you as much as he can. You reassure the horse with physical gestures and thoughts of gratitude. Still, the events weigh heavy upon your heart.

You hope that this does not serve as a permanent severance of your relations with the clan. It is all but impossible to repair relations when one side is refusing to speak to the other, Doriath under Thingol being the best example you recall. At least Lanaya had agreed to see you, even if she had been prickly and looking for a fight.

The silent forest offers to no comfort to your increasingly dark thoughts. In fear of spiralling down one of the black moods that characterised the last few years in Beleriand, you forcibly drag your thoughts away from Lanaya's clan and towards Merrill's.

There are a number of options you could undertake while you are here. There are the warriors you helped organise, there is the immortality project the details of which you know little, the language you will obviously be taking steps on, and yet more to do.

This planning sees you to your destination, welcomed by a cry from a tree. A warrior who, to their credit, you had not seen till they spoke. It seems these Dalish are picking up that most frustrating of Laiquendi habits, vanishing into the forest.

Your entrance to the camp proper is a marked contrast to your visit to Lanaya. You are welcomed by cheerful calls, some jovial, others lightly mocking. Someone agrees to let Marethari know you are visiting, which gives you time to look in on Auriel.

Fortunately, the Dalish warrior and your self-proclaimed rival is training other Dalish in the clearing where you first trained her. You wait amidst the trees, watching as the elves send arrows down range towards straw dummies. You admit that their shooting seems rather basic, which is a concern at first.

As you look closer, you realise that you recognise none of the ten or so elves in the clearing. In fact, one or two of them looks like they might have only recently come of age. Hopefully, this represents an expansion of the Dalish warriors rather than a replacement for those you trained.

Eventually the exercise ends, and Auriel notices you.

"Nelyafinwë!" She exclaims, pointing dramatically at you. "So you have come to challenge me once more, my arch rival!"

"Why are you behaving in a manner so unbecoming of your station?" You ask dryly. "Did I teach you to disgrace yourself before your warriors?"

Auriel's face flushes bright red. "Why you! How dare you, I demand satisfaction!"

"You would lose." You state coldly, the full weight of your will falling upon the elf. "That reaction was quite unlike yourself. You have never been so quick to anger previously."

Most mortals the full weight of the Eldarin gaze terrifying, yet Auriel only flinches slightly. Still, it achieves its goal, Auriel takes several deep breaths and the red fades from her face.

"Yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to get out of control like that." The Dalish warrior says. "Still, that, thing, whatever it was seems a bit overkill."

Your will relaxes, causing everyone in the clearing to breathe a sigh of relief. "Perhaps it was, I am in something of a black mood myself. Perhaps the best thing to do is extend mutual forgiveness."

Auriel smiles wanly, then sniffs. "Speak for yourself, I demand copious bribes in exchange for my forgiveness."

"Perhaps a short spar would suffice?" You offer, enticed by the thought of bleeding off some of your frustration. "A demonstration for the new recruits."

"Hah! You are on old man!" The elf cheers.

There's an excited murmur among the new recruits as someone brings practice blades forward.

As much as the young elf can challenge you with a bow, she is nowhere close to your skill with a blade. You provide a thorough lesson to her students through a rather intense demonstration. It is entirely possible that you were a little to invested in the outcome, crushing a perfectly passable opponent with seeming ease.

Afterwards, Auriel seems even more inspired than her usual reaction to being defeated by you. For your part, you now feel more ready to speak to Marethari on what you will be doing in the clan today.

You meet Marethari outside of her Aravel. She looks rather amused.

"I hear you immediately sought out Auriel when you arrived, do I perhaps detect the faintest sound of romance in the air?" She asks.

Despite knowing she is teasing, it is still difficult to contain your visceral reaction to her words. Instead of yelling, you manage to restrain yourself to a tone that might best be described as 'icy'.

"She is a child." You state.

Marethari smiles apologetically. "It was just a joke; she is an adult by our standards."

"In such matters it is not your standards that matter." You reply, tone finally neutral once more.

"True enough." Suddenly Marethari's teasing smile returns fully. "Perhaps I should tell her that you consider her a child, I am sure she'd love to hear about it."

You sigh tiredly at the mental image. "I am certain not even you would be so cruel."

Marethari chuckles slightly, before shaking her head. "Tell me then, what brings you to our camp?"

"I had heard from Merrill that you were following in her footsteps. That you sought to reclaim your heritage and return once more to the ranks of the Quendi." You say. "I thought to ask after that process and offer my aid wherever it might be useful."

"A little late for that isn't it?" Marethari asks, amused with a touch of bitterness. "The time we needed help has passed."

"Then I can only offer my utmost apologies." You reply with a slight bow. "I had many demands upon my time and chose to trust to your and Merrill's skill. If that has caused grief or loss than I can only ask your forgiveness."

Marethari is clearly surprised by your words. She spends a few moments collecting herself with a shake of her head before she speaks.

"Barely a week apart and I've already forgotten how perceptive you can be." She says sadly. "There is nothing to forgive. This is a Dalish problem, and it is the Dalish who shall face it."

"I hope it is not a matter forbidden to outsiders, for I am now overcome with curiosity." You reply lightly, hoping to lift the Keeper's mood.

She smiles slightly. "I suppose I can make an exception for you, you were somewhat instrumental in making it possible. To hear Merrill describe it, she could not have done it without you."

You shrug. "I only made her aware of the choices available to her. All other credit is due to her."

Marethari's smile grows somewhat. "I am glad to hear that. It does this teacher proud to know my student is living up to her potential."

"We are drifting off topic." You state. "Reclaiming your people's immortality? How does it progress, and is there aught I can do to aid you?"

"In truth, as far as the process itself, it is relatively simple and there is little you could do to help us." Marethari explains. "Most of the process involves meditation to steel resolve against the process, and to aid in controlling emotions afterwards."

"The matter has proceeded without issue then?" You ask.

Marethari shakes her head with a flash of sorrow. "There have been those who tried too soon or failed to abandon an impossible attempt. Though rare, some have been injured or even died."

Your fist clenches. In truth, there is likely little you could have done even if you were here, but such logic does little to assuage the faint traces of guilt that touch you.

"How many?" You say, emotions restrained.

"We've got about half the clan now." Marethari says. "We're accelerating now that we've gotten most of it down. We're using it as a sort of 'coming of age' ceremony. Children won't be allowed to attempt it until they're fifteen."

"How many died? How many injured?" You clarify.

"Only five or six." Marethari says comfortingly. "The healers managed to save most of them, and even the most seriously injured will be back on their feet before the end of the year."

You flex your hand several times. "Is there truly nothing you need my aid with?"

The Keeper shrugs. "If you have any advice on how to run a society where death is not an available consequence I would welcome it. It is hardly urgent, few Dalish are willing to commit murder or treason."

You frown in concentration, mind racing through your vast knowledge of Noldorin law.

"I fear I have little to contribute." You admit. "My people have a rather different constitution to yours and much of our situation is so radically different as to make any advice I give so conditional as to be worthless."

Marethari chuckles. "I suspected as much, you hardly seem as emotional as the newly reawakened."

You nod. "Partly, though the greater distinction is in our circumstances. I have some knowledge that I can share, but I cannot give any concrete advice. Anything of use you must find for yourself."

"Well, I always did like a puzzle." Marethari says.

You turn your options over in your head. There are a few possibilities, legal matters, general advice. You do linger for a while on the lecture about perspective you had given the twins. It is something that comes naturally to most Quendi, but humans and near humans often struggle with.

Even as that thought finishes you internally wince. You know well at least one Noldo[3] who does not find the extended perspective of your people particularly easy. Which in turn sets your thoughts to the strange, exaggerated emotion displayed by Auriel when you arrived. You have experience with heightened emotion.

"If you are interested, I have some advice for dealing with those who are prone to," You pause, choosing your words with care. "Extreme swings of emotional intensity."

Marethari raises an eyebrow. "That sounds like quite the story."

You sigh. "My family have legendary tempers."

"Is that so?" The Keeper asks teasingly. "I confess I have seen little evidence of that."

"I am more controlled than most." You reply. "Though you seem to believe I am exaggerating. Without exaggeration I can tell you that there are legends about my family's temper."

Marethari's expression remains amused, clearly not believing you. "Well, I suppose that makes you uniquely qualified to discuss how to deal with the angered."

"Unfortunately, the first lesson is that you cannot win every battle." You sigh. "Sometimes, they are going to storm off in a huff and cause problems, and the only thing you can do is prepare for the inevitable consequences."

The phrases 'you would not dare' and 'you are incapable of achieving such a thing' are both taboo among your siblings. There is no faster way to ensure that said idea, usually a terrible one, is achieved in the worst possible manner.

"That is hardly useful." Marethari observes. "As a leader I cannot afford to allow people to challenge my authority."

"Hence why it is necessary to choose your battles." You repeat. "You cannot win every fight, so it is unwise to engage when it is clear that the other will not move, it diminishes your authority."

"And how am I to do so? How can I recognise when a fight is unwinnable?" The Dalish challenges you.

You frown in concentration. "That, is hard to explain. In truth I am hindered here by my lack of education on the matter. All that I know of this art is that which I developed over the years of looking after my brothers. The best I can say is that experience gives you a 'feel' for what different 'flavours' of rage can be combatted."

"That's not exactly helpful." Marethari sighs. "Is there anything I can actually use?"

"Well, obviously there is all the usual things one must do to maintain authority." You list absently, thoughts elsewhere.

Marethari sighs once more.

"Perhaps the most useful advice I can give is not to lose your own temper." You say. "Despite what stories indicate, it is impossible to 'shout down' someone who is truly furious. Your anger will fuel theirs and you will simply make the problem worse. You must remain calm at all times, even when you want to smash their head into a wall for being complete fools."

"That… Is true." Marethari says. "I already know that though."

"Have you accounted for the fact that you are likely to be as easily angered as those you are arguing with?" You ask.

"I am a Keeper with decades of experience managing my emotions." Marethari says, unamused. "I think I am capable of controlling my emotions."

"Are you?" You ask leadingly.

"I will thank you not to question my competence." The Keeper says, offended.

"But are you?" You ask again, drawing out the middle word teasingly.

The Keeper glares at you, teeth gritted.

"Are you?" Your voice has become outright mocking at this point.

"If you don't stop saying that I will not be held responsible for my actions." The Keeper barks.

You pause, letting several moments pass. It is a cruel trick, one the twins once delighted in playing on you. When Marethari relaxes, convinced she has succeeded in ending the annoyance you speak again.

"But are you?" You ask with a grin.

You sway out of the way of the staff that is swung down at your head. When it passes your waist you place a foot upon the tip, forcing it down onto the ground. You lean forward, arms on your knee, keeping it pinned with your weight.

"If such childishness can cause physical violence, are you truly ready to mediate between the furious?" You ask.

"That is hardly a fair comparison." Marethari protests weakly.

"Have you heard the way angry people argue?" You point out. "Their arguments are often worse."

The Keeper grits her teeth. "Do you. Have. Any advice?"

As a matter of fact, you do.

[1] Nandëor, sing. Nandëo. Working Quneya name for the Dalish. Criticism welcome

[2] Perequendi, translated due to a lack of similar concept in Thedas. See glossary for explanation of translation philosophy in this quest.

[3] It's Celegorm. Obviously.