You approach Merrill on a cold, wet day. You have little intention of leaving and preparing torches for your search of the ruins requires dry conditions. Given that she has accompanied you in order to learn your magic it seems prudent to actually give her some instruction beyond what you have already done.
Merrill's response is predictably enthusiastic. "Great! Ah I mean, thank you. What are we going to learn. Are we going to cover making dead things live again?"
That question is emblematic of what you want to cover with her today. "Actually, we are going to have a lecture on safety."
She looks at you sceptically. "Really? Nothing we've done seems very dangerous. I mean it's just learning skills and stuff."
You sigh and take a seat across from her. "Let us begin with raising the dead. While you can certainly make a plant bloom again, I would not advise attempting to bring an animal back. Even an animal that has just died is decaying in ways that are impossible to understand, raising them will often result in them dying painfully again. And you are never to attempt to raise a dead person."
"Is that because of demons? I know they possess corpses sometimes." Merrill asks.
This world is going to give you a heart attack if it keeps throwing impossibly dangerous magic at you like that. "No. Though that is an excellent reason all on its own. The real problem lies in the soul of a creature. Once the soul has left the body attempting to make it remain in the world, we know is incredibly bad for the creature in question. Best case scenario is you get obliterated from existence for daring to step into the realm of Eru."
"Eru?" Merrill asks.
"A topic for another time, think of him as the Maker for now." Merrill raises her hand, you interrupt her before she can speak. "Yes, he does exist though likely not as the humans claim. No, that he exists does not mean the elven gods do not. As I said a topic for another time. May I continue?"
Merrill puts down the hand she had raised and closes her mouth, her questions headed off before they were voiced.
With that tangent cut down ruthlessly, you continue. "The worst case is that your attempt works and the soul that you have trapped becomes a dark spirit that you cannot control. These spirits are nothing like the ones you know, and they are evil. They do not care if you are mage or not, they will possess anyone, and that will be only the beginning of your problems."

You allow Merrill a few moments to take in what you have said. Once you are confident that she has done so you move on to the central thrust of your warning.
"You have been applying what I have taught you to skills without my supervision. This is commendable; however, you must be careful. The dangers of my art are not as obvious as you are used to. A common example used among my people to warn new students is that of Fëanáro. Fëanáro was a great smith and spent much of his art and time on the creation of great works. One such work consumed his life in its entirety, he all but abandoned his family during its construction and barely ate. This resulted in the creation of something without compare but in doing so he had become obsessed with the object. His reckless pursuit of them, after they were stolen would lead to terrible deeds, war, and his death."
Merrill takes in all that you have said with wide eyes. She swallows nervously then asks, "Fëanáro? As in…" she trails off.
Your answering smile has no humour and no shortage of bitterness. "My father? Yes. Be careful."
You let a few moments pass so that as to not undermine the point you want to make, then you begin the lesson proper. "The dangers of Eldarin arts are invisible but that does not mean they are not real. This leads us nicely into a discussion of the importance of the unseen. Unlike mages of this land who can visit the unseen Eldar practitioners can only sense it. This means that you will need to stop thinking about the unseen as separate area and start to view it as an integral part of the world."

"Merrill, do you remember the three types of power I explained to you?" At her nod you continue, "Today we will be moving away from the power of knowledge we have studied so far and towards something more familiar, innate power."
"That's things like Elvhen immortality or dwarves not being connected to the Beyond, right?" Merrill asks.
"In part yes. There is another kind of innate magic that we shall be covering as well, but we will begin with what is inherent to the Dalish." You tell her.
Merrill looks confused. "I already told you that we don't have immortality anymore."
You smile encouragingly at her. "Do not fear. There may yet be more power to you than you think, there is only one way to find out."
Merrill looks at you for a moment, then nods firmly. "What do I need to do?"
"I want you to close your eyes and think on your own feelings." You tell her. "Focus not on what you want now, but what calls to you inherently. That which forms the foundation of all your other desires."
Merrill's eyes tighten and her expression twists in concentration. You remain silent while she seeks that which is innate to her. More than once, she causes some small flash of magic, but always of the kind native to this land.

After ten or fifteen minutes, Merrill opens her eyes. "I don't think there is anything like that in me. The closest I got was the magic I already know."
You nod understandingly. "It was always a possibility that you had no inherent power, or that it was your inherent power that allows you to wield the energies of the Beyond. Do not be disheartened, we will move on to another kind of power."
You take a moment, breathing deeply, and attempt to call upon the shield that preserved you from the fire of dragon and Balrog alike.

You feel a jolt throughout your entire being, as though you had suddenly slammed into a great wall at high speed. You cry out and fall backwards. You feel an ache that reaches down to your bones and your head spins. Merrill rushes over to you, her worried questions hazy and indistinct to your clouded mind. You indicate for her to back up as you struggle back into a sitting position. After a while your thoughts clear up somewhat and, though you are still in great pain throughout your body, you manage to tell her that you are alright.
"What happened?" She asks.
"I was trying to demonstrate the Sandafëo, a defensive spell used by my people to fight magical creatures. Unfortunately, I have experienced some kind of resistance that has caused a physical backlash." You tiredly tell her.
Merrill is wringing her hands as she asks, "Is that common? Is it one of the dangers you mentioned?"
You shake your head. "No, perhaps if my shield was broken I might experience something similar, but never when it is simply called. The worst I have experienced is a delay in casting. It must be some function of this world I do not understand."
Merrill seems calmed by knowing that it is something she can help with, though only slightly. "Well tell me what the spell does and maybe I can help you figure out what went wrong."
"The Sandafëo is when you make a shield out of your Fëa, that is what its name means. I do not know what the local word for it is, but it is the part that makes someone different from their twin despite being identical in every way. Unlike the body it is impervious to harm from external sources, barring some extreme edge cases, so if you can briefly manifest it in the physical world then it can ward off danger. It is rather tiring though, so one cannot simply keep it up at all times." You explain to your student.
As you speak Merrill's eyes are slowly widening in shock. "Are you… Are you talking about the soul? You tried to bring your soul into the physical world using magic?"
You shrug. "Maybe, I do not know enough about the subject to be certain."
Merrill chews her lip in concern for a few minutes, and then says, "We need to investigate this further. I have an idea about what is going on but I'm not certain."
"Verry well then, I place my trust in you. What do you need me to do?" You ask your student.
Merrill straightens up and for a moment you see a shadow of something great in her. Then she spends several minutes stuttering and aborting her thoughts before they are fully voiced, and it is gone.
Eventually she gets her thoughts sorted out and asks, "Ok, ok. Before I do anything else I need you to explain what a fayuh is, uh, as best you can anyway."
"Fëa. It is a part of all mirröanwi, in fact it is their defining trait. Unlike the Ainur, who have no body and wear their physical forms like clothes, Fëar are bound to the physical body. Despite this they share some of the nature of the Ainur, they are immortal and cannot be controlled by external powers without consent. They are the seats of our consciousness and what separates us from animals." You explain
Merrill has her full attention on your explanation, when you have finished she says, "That sounds like the soul. You tried to bring your soul into the physical world. Why would that be a problem. How are you feeling?"
You grin wryly, "Like I just ran into a wall at incredibly high speeds."
Merrill nods, "Ok yes. Have you noticed anything else?"
You shrug. "Not as of late. I have been tired beyond my ability to recover since I arrived in this world, but that has not grown worse or intensified in any way."
"What? Can you go into more detail?" Merrill gasps.
Once more you shrug. "My limbs are leaden, hard to raise, and they often feel as though they respond to my commands a second after I give them. My thoughts too are clouded, I struggle to wield my wits and words as I once did."
Merrill's eye are rapidly darting to and fro, she seems on the verge of some revelation. "You mentioned the light of Valinor to the Keeper, that that was what we saw in the fade. Is that perhaps a function of your soul?"
You frown, "I do not understand it very well but yes I believe so."
Merrill looks at you and licks her lips nervously, when she speaks it is hesitant. "Is that shield the… only way of using your soul you have?"
You shake your head. "No, my people use our souls in many different ways, the Light of the Eldar is another for example."
Merrill breathes deeply a few times, stops and prepares to speak, then breathes deeply again. "Excuse me I need to try something quickly."
Merrill pulls a vial, filled with a glowing blue liquid from her pack, and drinks it. Then she closes her eyes and a few moments pass. You are waiting for something to happen when you think you see her stand, if only for a moment. It takes a few more repetitions of this for you to realise that you are seeing her when you close your eyes, much like the battlefield vision. You close your eyes for longer than a blink and find yourself standing in a strange, twisted landscape, a green sky far above. Merrill stands before you talking to herself, so you ask what is going on.
Merrill starts and looks you in the eye. "You can see me. You are here, but you're awake. You're not a mage, you know nothing of our arts and your ways don't use the same energy. I… I can't believe it."
You sigh and look around to see the ground slowly being covered with grass. "I have no idea what you are talking about or where we are. Please explain."
Merrill shakes her head, "Not here. Do you need help getting out?"
You look at her and say, "I will open my eyes and not be here."
Merrill's reaction is a bit dramatic in your opinion, but nevertheless you open your eyes to see her doing the same.
"Your soul is in the Beyond." Merrill says, mostly to herself, she seems bemused at first. "You are in the Beyond and the physical world at the same time. This… This is impossible. This is terrible! You should be dead!" She is quickly becoming distraught.
You take a moment to process her words. To your immense surprise she is right, if your Fëa is outside your body you should be dead. Which means that its not, or at least not entirely.
"Be calm. I am not dead, therefor this is most likely more complex than it seems." You tell your panicking student
Your words fail to have much effect and you spend a great deal of time calming Merrill down. Needless to say, you do not finish your lesson.

The situation regarding Zathrien is one you have no intention of leaving unaddressed. Even if the Lady of the Forest has lied to you, the mere fact she wants him dead is concerning. You gather your gear, your weapons and armour obviously, but you also make sure that you have your pin and letter of introduction. Throwing the saddlebag over your shoulder you are headed towards the entrance of the ruins when Merrill interrupts you.
"Where are you going?" She asks, curious.
You tell her, "I am going to see if I can find Zathrien and discover the truth of the allegations made by our host."
Merrill stands up and begins to gather her own gear. "Oh, great! Give me a few minutes and we can go."
You look at her, surprised. "What made you think you were coming with me?"
Merrill does not even look at you as she answers, "I decided that I was."
"Merrill…" You begin in a reasoning tone.
She spins around and interrupts you, "No! I don't care what you're going to say! I looked up to Zathrien! I thought he was the epitome of what a keeper could be! If he has lied to me, to all the Dalish, let us think we could reclaim our immortality when he is sustaining his life with a spirit bound curse then, then I. I have to know."
You look at Merrill, her eyes filled with anger and determination, and you doubt you can sway her from her course.
With a sigh you reluctantly say, "Verry well. But, if you are to accompany me, you will do as I say and follow my lead. Ensure that you are ready for combat, it is not my intention to fight Zathrien but we may not have a choice. When secrets long hidden come to light some will resort to violence to conceal their misdeeds."
Merrill turns back to her preparations without a word. She does bring her staff and a small vail filled with a blue liquid. You spend the time you wait checking your arrows for damaged flights or warped shafts. Despite your desire to avoid violence you cannot help the tension you feel. Despite the fact that you are in a world operating on different rules your mind keeps drifting back to the last being who created Nauro and the Noldo who confronted him. For Findaráto strove with Sauron in songs of power, and the power of the king was very great, but Sauron had the mastery.

You and Merrill travel through the forest searching for Zathrien's clan. You have the advantage of knowing the rough area from the map you looked at in the Sabrae clan. This reduces the area you need to search significantly, and you soon find signs of the clan. You had previously noted a lack of professionalism on the part of the Dalish hunters in Merrill's clan, and it seems that it is a universal problem. The trail, made in part of bloodstains and in part the usual signs of passing groups, leads you straight to the clan's sentries. You approve of the posting of sentries in principle, though given you see them before they see your approval diminishes somewhat.
Not wanting to cause any undue tension, you call out, "Hark! An envoy approaches."
The sentries scramble to draw their weapons, which is the wrong way to greet an envoy. When you reach them, they have weapons in hand and have started to make demands.
"Who goes there?" One shouts,
"An envoy of who?" The other asks.
You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, while presenting your pin for inspection. "I am Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol. I am a friend of the Sabrae clan and have come to speak to Keeper Zathrien. My companion, Merrill First to Keeper Marethari, can vouch for me and I carry a letter of introduction from said Keeper."
The sentries seem a little bewildered by you introduction, and you get the sense that Merrill is holding in laughter. You despair for these people and their complete lack of understanding of proper protocol. Despite this you do manage to secure a meeting with Zathrien with a minimum of difficulty.

During your trip to the camp, you had decided that you would be asking for Zathrien's side of the story. During the short walk to the centre of the camp you had further decided to be somewhat circumspect about it. Accusing someone of dark magic while surrounded by their loyal followers is unwise. At the centre of the camp, you meet the elf you have heard so much about. Zathrien is a bald and thin, with a severe face and a tattoo on his chin. He is accompanied by a brown haired female elf. She is young and has sweeping tattoos around the edges of her face, from her cheerful greeting to Merrill you assume this is Lanaya.

You hand your letter of introduction to Zathrien, who reads it.
"Keeper Marethari speaks very highly of you Shemlen." He says, before turning to Merrill and asking in elvish, "Danger? You need help?"
Merrill smiles awkwardly as she replies in the common speech, "I'm fine, the letter is real and Nelyafinwë speaks elvish."
You meet Zathrien's stare with one of your own. He seems to have expected you to disapprove of his caution, in truth you are more disappointed that he has not considered that Merrill may not be who she seems. Though it has made your life easier, so you should not complain too much.
After the time for a response has lapsed, Zathrien speaks again. "I am told you wished to speak to me. Here I am. What do you want?"
"Have you heard of the werewolves that dwell nearby?" You ask.
"I know them well. Why?" He replies.
Choosing your words with great care you say, "I came to this area to study the ruins at the Heart of the Forest. On my first journey here, we ran into a group of them and were forced to fight our way out. Now I have returned and found that they have made a home in the ruins I wish to investigate. I had hoped you might know of them and how they might be dealt with."
Zathrien seems uninterested in your 'plight'. "I fail to see how this has anything to do with me. In fact I see no reason why I should allow a Shemlen into elven ruins at all."

You need to get to the bottom of this before the werewolves decide to attack the clan. Actually, now that you think about it, "Have your people ever been attacked by the wolves? If you have not, I should tell you they are most fearsome beasts. Every wolf is easily the greater of a Dalish hunter, and any who are wounded shall join their ranks. It is only a matter of time before one of your people is attacked and starts a chain reaction among your people. They do not even need a reason to do so."
You know you have him when his eyes widen in response to your words. The line about them not needing a reason hits him particularly hard.
Zathrien responds much more decisively now. "Now that you mention it, we have not yet experienced any losses of our number. Perhaps it has lulled me into a false sense of security. Listen closely, the werewolves are led by a beast named Witherfang. Should the leader be slain, the others will likely return to their bestial natures and disperse. If you bring me its heart, I should be able to use it to cure any who are cursed, so do not be afraid to face them."
"Have you had dealings with this Witherfang before? You seem to know much of them for someone who has never been affected by them." You ask, in as innocent a manner as possible.
Zathrien coughs into his fist a few times before answering. "It is all a matter of observation, when you reach my age, you too will notice things others might overlook."
Yes. In fact, since you are significantly older than he is you have noticed that he is evading your question about Witherfang. Further probing risks revealing your hand too much so you have to make a decision now.

You simply do not know enough. Zathrien knows Witherfang, that much is clear, but how? You feel as though you have found every clue to a mystery, but you do not know what mystery you are trying to solve. There is only one option, you will have to get both Zathrien and Witherfang in the same room and talking to each other.
With this in mind you say, "Could I not convince you to lend us some guards? There are far more wolves than I can handle alone, and Merrill struggles to prevent them from reaching her."
Zathrien dismisses that idea without a second's thought. "Out of the question, I will not risk my people."
You hide your smile, your trap is closed. "Then will you escort us? It would be terrible if we were to fail due to a lack of aid and it is the leader's duty to protect his people. You would have to send a party after us if we did not return after all."
Zathrien is not pleased by your words, but his desire to be free of the werewolves overcomes his dislike of you. "Very well. I shall accompany you myself. If only to ensure that you do not slay some other wolf and claim it was Witherfang."
Several cutting comments about the lack of trust being displayed leap to your lips; fortunately, unlike your brothers, you are aware that there are times when you should not share your thoughts. Instead, you act the part of a grateful supplicant, which seems to soothe the arrogant elf somewhat.

Every time you have walked through the forest it has been unnecessarily difficult. Whenever you are not impeded by terrain designed by a sadist you are attacked by some kind of dark creature. You note that Zathrien is a capable combatant as he helps you burn a Sylvan. Despite these challenges you make good time to the ruins. The Werewolves are avoiding you, presumably due to your company. You are grateful of it, explaining their lack of hostility would be annoying.
Zathrien still complains. "Where are all the wolves? This seems like a trap."
"If it is, can we do anything about it?" You ask.
When he does not answer you increase your pace to the lowest level.

When you reach the room where the Lady resides, Swiftrunner has gathered the largest of the Werewolves together. They stand beside the lady in the vague shape of a battle line. Extremely helpful.
"It is a trap." Zathrien says.
"This is no trap Zathrien." The 'Lady of the Forest' says, "We had you brought here to ask you to release the curse."
You take this chance to interject, you need to control the flow of this conversation. "What curse Zathrien? I thought the werewolves were a naturally occurring phenomenon?"
The Lady looks at you in confusion, but Zathrien speaks before she has a chance to contradict you. "It doesn't matter. She's a spirit, the curse is a part of her."
The lady responds for you, "That may be so Zathrien, but it is you who bound me here, and it is by your blood magic that the curse continues."
Surprisingly it is Merrill who speaks next. "Is that true? Did you use blood magic and summon a spirit just to curse someone? Who? Why?"
Zathrien turns wildly. "Well perhaps." He glances at you, then at the Werewolves. "It was for justice. You know what humans have done to us. This 'curse' simply makes their physical forms match the beast within their hearts."
Merrill's eyes narrow and her usual shyness vanishes into a storm of rage. "How could you! All this time, we looked up to you. I though that you had rediscovered a lost secret. That you were everything a keeper should be. I wanted to be just like you! And now I find out that you are just another blood mage, drawing your life out by binding it to a spirit. And worse yet you filled this forest, that has always been a safe haven for our people, with creatures that could destroy whole clans with a single blow. How could you!"
Zathrien snarls. "Do you know what these humans did! They killed my son! I held my daughter's dead body in my arms when she took her own life rather than live with what they did to her! This has nothing to do with extending my life. This is justice!"
"Those who wronged you are dead. Their sons and daughters too. When will your 'justice' be enough?" You voice, despite its calm tone, cuts through the growing argument.
Zathrien turns his rage on you now. "Of course you would think so Shemlen. You are not Dalish. You do not understand."

"You are right." You begin. "I am not Dalish. But you are wrong that I do not understand. I know rage, I know hate. I know what it is to wield your strength in service of vengeance. More importantly I know that mortals should not endure beyond the span of their years. It twists you, damages something inside, turning all that was once good and noble to the ends of evil and death."
"Knowledge…" The Lady begins but you raise your hand to keep her from speaking.
Your words seem to have hit something inside Zathrien, some of his rage disperses and he stutters. "I... No, my rage is justified. I held my daughter in my arms, and it is the humans' fault."
You continue in the same calm tone you began. "And your vengeance is fulfilled. The humans who harmed you are dead, their children are dead too. Why do you persist now? Why cling to that which extends your life and prevents you from seeing your own children again?"
Zathrien looks up at you in shock, and you raise a questioning eyebrow. "You are a mage; you know for a fact that the soul exists. Souls are immortal, they must go somewhere when we die. How will you ever see your children again if you yourself are immortal? Are you not tired, weary of simply existing for the sake of hate alone?"
You allow the spirit to speak now. "Please Zathrien, you are my maker. All the good that I have experienced I owe to you. But it is time to let it end. Please end the curse. For all of us."

Zathrien heaves a great sigh. "Perhaps you are right. I… More and more I have felt as though my justice was all I had left. It seems that I have been outdone in nobility by a spirit."
Zathrien raises his staff and power surges through the room, so great that it can be seen with the eye as a column of light. Then Zathren goes limp, falling to the ground. The moment he does so the Lady begins to fade away. When she has gone there is one last flash of light and a group of humans stand before you. They express their disbelief at being freed. Many take the time to thank you effusively for your aid in freeing them. You smile and nod and accept their thanks. When they have left for wherever it is they came from you walk away from your camp to be alone for a while. When you are certain that there is no one around, you drive your fist into a tree with all your might. The pain that shoots up your arm means nothing to you, compared to the realisation you have. You had cut down Valar know how many of these creatures, never even once considering that they might have been victims as innocent as any. Your one comfort is that you have made it right since then. Freeing them and using words not violence. Beneath the moon, knuckles dripping red blood onto the forest floor, you resolve to be better. To put the kinslayer behind you.