Having spent a week hunting you have gathered enough food to not need to do so again until next week. You consider continuing to build up a reserve, but the fact that you still do not have a good idea of the edible plants of the area and meat is likely to spoil. Further, if you can secure a steadier source of food, you will not be dependent on frequent hunting and foraging in the future. You know that the locals seem to rely primarily on a hunter gatherer lifestyle but, having come from an agrarian society yourself, you cannot help but be constantly reminded of the amount of time hunting takes. You decide that your best option, since you will not be around long enough for a farm to be of much benefit to you, is to talk to the werewolves. They already need to hunt for their daily needs and if you can get them to bring you food then you will be able to focus your energy on other tasks during the week.

You spend no small amount of time trying to find out who to talk to. Ranger is obviously a possibility, but you honestly do not know if he wants anything. A lot of the wolves you ask point to Swiftrunner as their de-facto leader. Talking to him would likely result in you needing to trade something that they need and cannot make themselves. The downside is that anything they need will likely take more time than simply hunting yourself. The most interesting option that you uncover is a wolf named Bulfa. Bulfa is apparently something of a personable character and approaches you with a proposal. The werewolves need very little, but they want many things. They claim that human objects might be useful in maintaining their sanity and they would also like to create a supply chain, so they are not dependent on hunting themselves. The problem is obviously that they have no good way of talking to the local villages without causing an incident. Bulfa proposes that you could go and offer trade with some of the villages on the outskirts of the forest.

You think that Bulfa's plan shows a great deal of foresight, so it is only natural that you would agree to act as his agent in the matter. Your only concern was the length of time that a trip to the human settlements would take. The Heart of the Forest is on the other side of Brecilian forest to the Dalish camp and Ferelden's land. Bulfa helpfully pointed out that there are a number of villages on this side of the forest. His only concern is that he is not sure if they are technically a part of Ferelden when you ask him. You make a mental note to be wary of any changed customs and prepare to leave.

You do not take Merrill with you, the harsh reception that the Dalish had gotten on your last trading trip makes you think she would be a liability. You also want to take the time to be truly alone with your thoughts, not needing to be constantly focused on keeping your companions alive. The journey to the nearest village, Brynwich if you are recalling the map correctly, is less than an hour, so you take the time to appreciate the beauty of the forest and consider your future actions. You come to no firm conclusions before the first house comes into view, but the time to think is appreciated none the less.

The village is much like the countless small human settlements you have seen in the short time they have existed. Small houses with wood or clay walls and rooves made of thatch. You cast a well-practiced eye over their fields and are not terribly impressed. Though the rows of wheat swaying in the breeze are an impressive sight, there are definitely better ways to preserve the land than leaving significant areas of the field unsown. Do they think the soil is simply going to magically produce the required nutrients if it is left alone? Though given the strangeness of this world you have found yourself in it would not surprise you if that was in fact what would happen. You walk among the humans of the village, looking to see what they might need. The area is a rich one, many people are well dressed, and they have a surfeit of tools and clothes. They even have a number of well-armed and armoured guards, who bear two different liveries. The most common livery is that of a fish-tailed horse, white on blue. There are also a number of warriors wearing a golden dragon on black, most of whom are better armoured than the others.

You ignore the guards as you go about asking after grain prices and tool or weapon production. You get little in the way of information, for some reason your questions make the locals defensive and guarded. You are also having trouble thinking of something the werewolves could trade for what they want. Your thoughts are interrupted by a trio of the guards you have been ignoring. They escort you to what they call the local jail, though it is clearly a repurposed barn that you could escape with little effort. There, a woman in more ornate armour 'interrogates' you.
"You're working for Orlais! Admit it!" She slams her hands into the table you are sitting at and attempts to loom menacingly.
"I am not. I have never been to Orlais." You are not intimidated; she is less than half your height and, more importantly, not a balrog.
This is the pattern of the interrogation going forward. She would yell some wild theory about you being a spy and you would calmly refute her by pointing out that you were here for trade. You are honestly surprised when you are simply escorted out of the village, you had expected to need to fight your way out. Despite this turn of good luck, you have gained nothing of use. You still have nearly half a day dedicated to this task, so you decide to try another village

You do not even glance at the village of Brynwhich as you depart. You could not care any less for the people of the area. If your memories of the map you saw continue to serve you well there should be another village along the road from the village gate, Lannerch was its name. It was a hub for the roads leading from the various farming villages, it is likely to have a great many traders and is only a two hour journey away. You set off down the dirt path, wishing that you had brought Orundómë along. Alas, you had left him behind enjoying a wild apple tree.

The journey, though not a long one, is very unpleasant. The road is more a function of frequent travel than any design, as a result they are incredibly dusty. You are going to need to wash your hair when you return to the ruins, to say nothing of your clothes. The dust is swirled up by occasional parties of horsemen who ride by you, often wearing the dragon livery you saw in the town. When you reach Lannerch you find it a middling sized town. It has a small wooden wall and a rampart. You pass into it through one of the four gates after a cursory inspection by the local guards. You are grateful that many people go armed in this land, for your sword causes no comment.

You wander about the market square, looking for food to buy and trying to see what might be sold. There is little market here for furniture or wooden products, it seems that several other villages produce such things and sell them here. You think there might be a market for leather products or dyes, given the relative prosperity of the area, neither of which will be of much use to the werewolves, whose claws prevent most fine movement. Worst of all, there is no food for sale that is not marked up exorbitantly. An entire gold piece for a handful of wheat is exorbitant and you did not need Balarika's lessons to know that. You are wondering where this sudden scarcity has come from, and if it has anything to do with the war footing the previous village was on when you notice some guards seizing a wagon load of food at the village gates. You wander over to listen, your ears letting you her from further away than most.
"By order of Teyrn Loghaine, all food is requisitioned for the war effort." The stern officer informs the frightened farmer.
"Y, you, you can't d, d do this! I n, n, need to buy new t, tools. I was c, c, c, c, counting on the profits to afford them." The farmer stutters, whether from fear or a speech impediment you do not know.
Whatever the cause the guards are unmoved by his pleas. You can only watch as food that you would very much have liked to purchase is seized and taken away by the dragon liveried soldiers. You make a note of the name Teyrn Loghaine, he seems to be the ruler of the area, since the soldiers with the dragon have been in two different villages nearby. As you finish your inspection of the marketplace and head back to the ruins to bring the bad news, you hear people speculating about a possible war with Orlais.

Bulfa is understandably disappointed that his plan has come to nothing. He is glad to know that the local humans are preparing for some kind of war. He mentions that the area has a history of werewolf attacks and that had a scout seen it they might have feared an attack. You are pleased to lay such fears to rest if nothing else. Despite that you are concerned. Why is Ferelden preparing for a war?

You said that you would aid the newly established community of ex-bandits, and you intend to hold true to that. If they are to survive long term, they are going to need farms and walls. As you travel to the site of the town to be a fierce debate rages in your head. Which of the two options you are considering you should start with is a question without a simple answer. Walls would keep out the hostile creatures that infest this forest but without farms then they will still be in danger when they leave the walls. After some internal debate you decide that setting up farming is more important. The Sabrae clan has no walls and they have not yet been attacked, though they do have a larger group. The former bandits were also camped without walls before you spoke to them.

Your return to camp is met with cautious hope. The group seems to have been trying to make the best of their new circumstances. Though you do have to make them clean up their campsite a few times, even if the lack of storage means that you can only make them organise belongings into piles. Then you gather them all together and asked if any of them had farming experience. A few did, though mostly as hired hands rather than as someone who could actually plan and run one. This was more than you were expecting so you are in high hopes as you begin to teach them.

Having those farm hands proves to be very useful. They can mostly verify that what you are saying seems sensible and help sway the others. You spend the first few days discussing growing seasons, planting methods and the various tasks a farm requires. Once these basics are established, helped along by one ex-bandit with some coloured clay and basic art skills making an illustration as a reminder, you start to discuss what to grow. The lack of seeds is a pressing issue, but the bandits have been here for more than a month and have a rough idea of what is and is not edible in the forest. You help them find a few berry bushes and a root vegetable that they can grow. This has the further advantage of allowing you to mostly skip the clearing of trees. It would still be beneficial to do so but without proper tools you cannot do so effectively. With the time that has passed and the increased organisation the former bandits have pulled a few items that can serve as impromptu tools, but they will not be as effective at the tasks as you need. You spend some time thinking about how best to establish this farm.

You vaguely recall stories of Nandor farms beneath the trees. It involved harvesting things that naturally grow beneath trees already. You search your memory for more details, but the original tales were already distorted, and it was not something you paid much attention to. You only recall it at all because you found the idea interesting. You will need to try and figure out how to actually perform such actions based on your own knowledge.

You struggle to figure out what it is you should do. You are used to farming wide open land, and you know little to nothing of the growing conditions of the plants you have gathered. None of the once bandits know either, so you are left with no choice but to experiment. You end up designating several 'fields' which are then further divided into different places where the various foods that you have will be planted. Each field will serve as a test ground to see how things grow in different situations. For now, the makeshift town is going to be continuing to rely on hunting for its food situations. You can tell that this failure has disheartened the group and you need to take action to try and keep their spirits up.

You decide that some future proofing is in the best interests of the town. You gather your dozen or so townsmen and discuss how things will be going forward. They do not have answers to many of your questions, such as what the town should be called or who should be the leader of it. They do however pick up on the more practical aspects. The planning of fields and roads is of particular concern. Many people are also concerned about where they will be placing any future houses, there is little room by the stream. You manage to shake the former bandits from their stupor with practical concerns. What needs to be done? They need to build houses, which means they need clear land and building materials. You currently lack the tools to cut down trees but doing so will provide both of those things. So, getting axes, adzes and hammers is a priority. You bring up the possibility of using a saw and a discussion of the merits of axes and saws ensues. Many of the former bandits worked in logging before their lives fell apart and they have strong feelings on the matter. Axes are eventually decided on for their versatility. You learn a lot about logging methods, including using a wedge and a hammer to split wood. There is some serious discussion of town layout, mostly motivated by you. If you want to build the wall you are going to need to know how much land you will be encompassing. This in turn, leads to a discussion of whether they want to bring people into their town. Everyone leaves the meeting much more passionate about the town project than they had been after the failure of the farming plan.

There are three levels to the ruins you are currently in. Merrill noted that Elven ruins are not usually underground. So, these ruins are either so old they have been buried or a rather unusual construction. Speculation is pointless, so you focus on your search for elven inscriptions. To your immense frustration there are very few of them. You find a few murals and mosaics that have Merrill excited to examine them. She seems to be learning a lot about her people's history, which you are glad to hear, but they are completely useless to you. The only thing you get out of them is her pointing out a few labels that tell you what certain people are named. While this is unlikely to help you overmuch in your endeavour to learn to read and write the language it does tell you how to recognise the writing system. At first glance you are unsure if it is a character based system or an alphabet system.

You inspect the writing closer and quickly discover that, contrary to your expectations, you are not dealing with characters. Instead, the letters have very little distinction between them, each is made of very similar curves. The writing system also shares Quenya's trait of not placing spaces between words. This is a contrast to the style of the common tongue and caught you off guard at first glance. You quickly find a stick and start to draw the shapes in the dirt. Trying to recombine them into the elven words that you already know. You are still missing some of the letters but, with focus, patience and no small amount of laughter on Merrill's part, you manage to put together the beginnings of the alphabet. During your exploration you experience an unusual event.

The room you have found on the lower floor looks like it might once have been a library. There are ruined books strewn here and there and shelves, too rotten to use, still stand against the walls. The room contains some kind of stone altar or bench, too heavily damaged to tell the original purpose of. You are searching through the books, trying to find any sections that are undamaged enough to read, when you come across a strange vial. The vial is shaped much like an hourglass and is filled with a red liquid that you suspect is blood. When you pick up the vial to inspect it closer you hear a 'voice'.

In truth to call it a voice is a bit misleading; it is more of a sense of presence and the vaguest shape of thoughts. You perceive it as a voice due to the way you mind tries to comprehend what is effectively a meeting of minds.
"Away! Away!" The voice recoils in fear at the touch of your thoughts. An impression of a long forgotten and lonely prisoner cowering from the light fills your mind.
You extend your own thoughts, trying to gain a better understanding of what it is you have found. The presence within seems to slowly gain confidence as you do so, but for now you ignore it. Intense scrutiny reveals that this is the Fëa of some creature of this land, held so long by the device in your hand that it has been reduced to tattered memory and fragments of personality. Your fingers whiten around the foul instrument, your rage causing you to reflexively attempt to shatter it. The instrument resists your physical might, and the being within responds to your rage.
"Help." The impression of a desperate beggar clinging to your cloak, a brief glimpse of a mage wearing armour, and a hand offering an exchange.
The creature within was once some kind of mage warrior, and if you would free it from its torment, it will teach you all it knows. Your rage diminishes from its greatest peak to a more manageable simmer. You are going to help the creature within, you have known torment of a similar kind and would not wish such on your worst foe. The only question is how, the creature claims that simply placing it on the altar will free it from its torment. You are not sure if it will truly be that simple but placing the device on the altar is surely a harmless first step.

You hold the vial in your hand for a moment. Then you reach your mind out to it and ask it to teach you all it knows. There is a rush of images and sensations. An elf clad in silver armour, wielding sword in one hand and casting magic with the other. You feel what it is like to be bound to the fade like a mage, know how to wear armour without impeding casting. You also have many comments on the suboptimal way they wielded their sword. You yourself cannot make use of it but you could teach it to others. Among the rush of memories and sensations is the real prize though, literacy in elvish. Once you detect an end to the rush of knowledge you place the device on the altar, midway through communication entreating you to uphold your end of the bargain. You feel as the presence within fades away, finally at peace.

You know intellectually that you made the right choice. You were going to free the creature regardless, so there was no harm in learning what you could from them. Yet you feel as though you have somehow taken advantage of the pitiful prisoner. You examine your own feelings with care, trying to ascertain the origin of this feeling. You find it in an unexpected place, in your memory of being freed from your own torment on Thrangodrim. A foolish comparison, the situation is not even remotely similar and there is no need to feel any guilt or shame about what was a noble deed. Yet your mind keeps returning to those moments on eagle's back.

You clung to Findekáno's back, too weak to hold yourself in place. Your right wrist throbbed with pain, and you would swear you could still feel your hand. Despite these discomforts you feel nothing but joy. You are free. You would laugh for joy were it not for your exhaustion.
"I still say that you should not have come, but I am grateful." You say to your cousin as the wind rushes past the both of you. "I will repay you somehow, I swe…"
Findekáno interrupts you. "No. I need no recompense for there is no debt. I came to save you no in hope of some reward or to place you in my debt. I came to you because I believed you would come for me were I in your place. So let there be no oaths between us, no talk of debts owed and paid. Let us act only as our bond compels us"
You laugh quietly. "Very well Astaldo, I will swear no oath, hold myself unbound by debt. But should you ever have need of my aid, know that I will come should all the hordes of Morgoth stand between us."
Fiindekáno shakes his head slightly. "I never doubted that, not for a second."

The origins of your guilt are clear now. It has little to do with your actions with the captive here. This feeling is an older guilt, long pushed to the back of your mind. The miserable creature's wretched situation has simply brought it to the fore. One tear hits the ground, then another. Soon it is a flood as you try desperately to fight back the tide of emotion that overwhelms you. You do not notice when you slump to the ground, lost in the past.
"Forgive me." You plead.
After the Battle of Unnumbered Tears you had found Findekáno's corpse lying surrounded by his guard, their bodies outnumbered by orcs many hundreds of times. He had held true, even as his guard had been slaughtered around him, unwavering in his belief that you would come. Trusting in your plan, in you. He had died for his faith in you.
It was all your fault.