With your morning wasted dealing with a human who lacks the good sense to leave when asked politely, you only manage to depart for Gladesville after lunch. As a result, you do not have the entire day to teach Ophelia that you were hoping to have, unless you want to stay for an extended period of time.
"Arato! It's good to see you." Ophelia exclaims when she sees you.
"Aráto, Ophelia. Ar á to." You correct, somewhat exasperated. "If you cannot pronounce it then I would prefer to be called champion."
"Why'd you even ask to be called by your strange title if it translates directly?" Ophelia questions you.
"It does not, I simply prefer being called the wrong title to hearing you butcher the real one." You inform her.

"Oh." Ophelia's face falls. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was a real thing. I'm pretty used to Elven stuff being basically all made up."
"What about Elven titles is made up?" You ask, they all seem very normal to you.
"Well, like, they don't really have a kingdom or anything, but they still have these titles for their leaders." Ophelia offers.
"I can only speak for the Dalish, but the only titles I have heard are keepers, which is an official position in their society, and Hahren, which is their word for an elder. Could you give me a specific example?" You ask your student.

Ophelia fidgets in place a bit. "Uh, well, I don't really have specific examples."
You give her a look, and she squirms beneath it. "Have you ever met an Elf beyond the Dalish."
Ophelia shakes her head. "I haven't really met the Dalish, I just hear about them from the others."
"You should not be quite so quick to dismiss a people based only on the tales you have heard from others. I would also caution against you judging people based on their race." You instruct the future leader.
"So I should just ignore what everyone says?" Ophelia retorts defensively.
"No, but you should also not make it the sole criteria by which you make judgements. We discussed the importance of making your own analysis of situations during our conversation about advisors, remember?" You remind her.

Ophelia shrinks in on herself somewhat. "Oh, yeah."
"Do not be too hard on yourself. Nothing of import has been impacted yet, unless you have suspended trade with the Dalish?" You ask, half-jokingly.
Ophelia shakes her head. "It's too important to the village. I couldn't, nor would I want to. I don't hate elves, I just thought…"
"Then you should have no problems for now." You reply. "I would once again stress that you should be wary of dismissing anyone without speaking to them. A leader should always be polite, you never know whose help you may one day need."
"Yes, Ara, Arä, Ar á to." Ophelia produces the correct sound after a few attempts.

"You are already improving." You tell her smiling. "Now we need to make a few arrangements. Do you have any tasks that need doing currently?"
"Not really? Why?" Ophelia asks.
"I intended to arrive here much earlier, as such I have twice the content to fit into half the time." You explain.
"Ah, you could stay here a while? I mean, you're already coming every week. Why not get it all out of the way at once?" Ophelia suggests.

You consider for a short time objectively, though as with all such things it feels far longer. The prospect of simply getting the lesson done as you had planned is tempting. It would leave you with plenty of time for what seems to be a busy week ahead. Instead, you decide that you will stay. Not for a single night, as you suspect Ophelia intended but for two. You will run her through an intensive course of training, akin to your own study of the blade. It will be focused, difficult and stripped of all unnecessary embellishment. You expect Ophelia to be sick of the sight of you by the time you leave.

"Thank you for your generous offer. I will take you up on it." You smile, luring her into a false sense of security.
"Oh don't worry about it. It's the least I can do." Ophelia smiles in return.
"I might even go so far as to stretch out my stay another two days." You muse.
"Really? Great! It'll be good to get some more proper training under my belt." The foolish girl has wandered straight into your trap.
"I am glad you feel that way. Do make sure to clear your schedule for the next two days." You instruct your unsuspecting student.
"What? Surely I'll have time between our lessons to. do. things…" Ophelia trails off as she sees your expression.
"No, my student, I do not believe you will." You say.

No one has ever accused you of not being a Noldo of your word. Ophelia's training begins essentially immediately and only pauses when necessary to keep her mind at full capacity. Her breaks are frequent, but short. She has no desire to do any work during them, that much is certain. Despite the gruelling pace she continues to display the potential you have seen in her since her first week. She is not one of those people to whom leading is second nature, but she is dedicated, enthusiastic and clearly has a talent for doing so. She absorbs the knowledge you offer her like a sponge and is always ready with questions or situations she would like covered in detail.

"The key component between any leader and their followers is trust. A leader must trust that their commands be followed, and the follower must in turn trust the leader to act in their best interests." Begins one of your lessons early in the second day.
"That's why we have to be honest, yeah? So that they know they can trust us?" Ophelia asks.
"Partly. There is also another part, if you are honest then when you tell your followers that you cannot do something you said you would, they will believe you. If you are a dishonest person, they will assume it is an excuse even when it is not." You expand on your point.

Ophelia nods to herself. "Like the boy who cried wolf?"
"Yes." It is interesting that there is a version of that story in human culture as well as Dalish. "It follows then that you should never be afraid to explain why you have decided to do what you are doing."
"Doesn't that go against the no discussion once a decision is made rule?" Ophelia requests elaboration.
"This is one of those situations where you must understand nuances." You are always willing to give further detail on these matters. "Your explanation should not invite critique; it is simply a relaying of your logic to those who place their trust in you."

Your lessons come to an end after three days of gruelling work. Ophelia is now approximately as skilled as an acceptable junior official of the Noldor. You would be comfortable leaving her in charge of the village now, though there is always more to learn. Since you focused on leading from a social perspective, she is sadly not on the path of a prince, but perhaps that is for the best. You are still uncomfortable with the idea of women fighting on the front lines, save at the direst need. Instead you have managed to teach her to be a true noble.

Ophelia has absorbed your lessons like a sponge. She has listened to you speak at length of morality, and the importance of character in being a leader.
"A true noble is not an example." You had told her. "They do not act nobly for the purposes of demonstration. A noble acts nobly because it is who they are. They show courtesy, loyalty and integrity, not because it is expected of them, but because it is right to do so,"
Her eyes had shone, drinking your words in like they were water offered to one dying in the desert. "How does that make them a leader though?"
"Because all know they can be trusted. Because they will act in the interests of those who follow them. Because they are the right choice. Everything else is meaningless." You replied.

"I'm not a noble though, how does this apply to me?" Ophelia asked.
"Were you not listening?" You asked. "A title does not make someone a noble. Who their parents are do not make someone a noble. Nobility lies in deeds, in acting in the interests of those who look to you. Thus you have the potential to be a noble, in action if not by law, so long as this village looks to you for leadership."
Ophelia had nodded, something kindling in her eyes as she listened to your words. "I'll do it. I'll be the best noble ever to live."
"No." You corrected her, despite her initial look of hurt and betrayal. "That attitude will never work. You are not going to be 'the best noble ever to live' you are going to be the best you can be. It is not a competition; it is about right action and honest intentions."

You had feared that your words would not reach her, humans have ever been weak at heart. They are all too easily swayed to darkness, even without outside influences. Yet now you stand looking at a student who has embraced those words. She shows humility, in the true sense of understanding her limits rather than a performative show of self-debasement. She also is honest, in the sense of speaking so that she may convey truth instead of lying without saying anything false. She is a noble in the truest sense, one who is worthy of responsibility. You beam widely, you could not be prouder of the young human leader.

When your lesson with Ophelia is finished you ride for Lanaya's clan. The journey is swift, thanks to the road connections. You do not want to waste any time, you have many things left to do this week. Unfortunately, you have left off speaking to Lanaya in a casual context for too long. She is Merrill's friend and the leader of an important neighbour, this cannot be allowed to stand. The guards of Lanaya's clan continue to fail at the very basic task of noticing a brightly clad, very tall, Noldo before he is close enough to kill them and keep riding. You are used to the disappointment these warriors cause in you, so you ignore the irritation and simply go to meet Lanaya. Lanaya is walking around her camp, talking to her people about something or other.

Lanaya looks up from her conversation and catches sight of you. "Oh, look who's dropped by my camp. What can I do for you?"
You give her a polite smile. "Would you believe me if I said that I do not actually want anything for a change?"
"Nope." Lanaya says cheerfully. "I'd remember sending for you, and nobody's gone missing recently. That's all three reasons you ever come around."
"What if I have some business related to the trade route?" You counter her claim.
"That's usually you asking me to do something for you so it still counts." You do not know why you get the impression that Lanaya would stick her tongue out at you if this conversation were not in public.

"I could just as easily be coming to offer you something you would want though." You point out.
"True, but you haven't so far." She counters. "Is this the end of that streak?"
"I would not say I have never offered you anything you want." You disagree. "If you did not want to trade you would not remain a part of it."
At this point there is a small crowd watching this, whatever it is. Lanaya purses her lips and thinks for several moments.
"Tch." She lets out a disappointed sound. "You've got a point there. Fine, you win. You don't have to be here because you want something from me."

"One would assume that if you truly believed I was using you, I would not be so easily granted entry." You observe.
"Ah, don't take it personally. You help us when we ask you to, so we help you when you do." Lanaya responds. "Come on, I've got a few more things to do, then we can talk."
You accompany Lanaya. It turns out she is taking stock of what everyone needs, clothes, new shoes and the like. Apparently, there is a fair chance that people will just refuse to mention their problems without prompting. You find that strange, in your experience people are only too eager to tell someone else to solve their problems.

Eventually Lanaya leads you to her Aravel.
"Must we enter this infernal contraption." You ask. "I find it very unpleasant to try to stand in a room designed by a dwarf for a child."
Lanaya glances at you, then grins. "Well, if you're going to whine about it, we can stay outside."
You were not whining. "One of these days I am going to create a room where everything is scaled to me, and nobody else can reach anything. You will not find my suffering so amusing or trivial then."
Your words cause Lanaya to have a fit of laughter.
During the fit, she manages to gasp out a question. "So, what, hah, did you want to talk about."

You very easily could offer to help with any clan matters. You feel as though you have favoured the Sabrae somewhat excessively. Yet, Lanaya has repeatedly demonstrated a strong independent streak. You do not believe that she would be particularly amenable to such an offer, perhaps reading insult where none was intended.
As such you say. "This truly is a social visit. We are peers, bound by common ties of trade, yet we have never spoken beyond moments of great struggle. It is a poor foundation for a relationship between neighbours and partners."
"You know, if you want to make friends, you can just say so, right?" Lanaya replies, raising an eyebrow. "You don't need to talk around the point like an Orlesian 'courtesan'."

You recognise the gestures she makes with her fingers at the word 'courtesan' to be indicative of quotation marks. You are simply unsure of what exactly they mean in this context. Though her sceptical tone gives you a general idea. You decide to allow them to pass unremarked while you address the main thrust of her argument.
"It is not so much that I wish to be friends. I do not know you well enough to decide that. But we will have to live with each other for some time, it is best if we are at least somewhat familiar with each other." You refute her claim, to your own satisfaction at least.

Lanaya snorts. "Sure, you don't want to be friends, you just want to know all about my life and be on good terms with me."
She widens her eyes comically and claps her hands to her cheeks with a gasp. "You're madly in love with me? What will I tell Merrill?"
"No." Your cold voice cuts through her humour.
"Tch. Not going to play along even a little?" Lanaya asks disapprovingly.
"It is not a matter for jokes." You reply, still unamused.
"Fine, I guess it proves your point about knowing each other better. Any other hot button issues I shouldn't bring up?" Lanaya grumbles.

You pause, considering her words. She may be jesting, or complaining, but knowing what might anger both of you would help keep your discussions cordial.
"Oaths, specifically the swearing thereof." You inform her. "I do not exactly hate them, but I am wary of swearing one. Further, as a general rule, I do not wish to discuss why that is."
Lanaya blinks in confusion. "Ok. I wasn't really expecting an answer. Good to know, I guess?"

"And you?" You ask.
When Lanaya continues to look confused, you elaborate. "Is there anything you would like me to avoid speaking about?"
Her eyes widen in realisation. "Oh. Right. Yes, I'd rather not talk about Dalish secrets, but I think you already knew that."
"I did, is there anything else?" You reply.
"I don't really want to talk about how I met Zathrien." She grimaces. "In fact, let's just not talk about him at all."
"Easily and gladly done." You inform her.
She looks surprised. There is a moment when she seems on the verge of asking you a question, but she does not.

For several long moments the conversation comes to a halt. You are not sure where to go from here, and Lanaya is consumed by whatever thoughts your words have sparked.
Lanaya shakes herself. "Alright, that's enough of that."
"Enough of what, may I ask?" You inquire.
"Maudlin thoughts. What are we going to talk about?" Lanaya replies.
"Do you not wish to choose a topic? I confess I have very few ideas myself." You propose.
She shrugs. "What would you normally talk about with people?"

"Perhaps we should speak of our childhoods. What we learned, our friends and things of that nature." You propose.
Lanaya shrugs. "I see no reason not to. Though I'll be skipping over parts, due to you know."
"Ah, I did not realise you were so young. Please, only as much as you are comfortable." You assure her.
She gives you a sad smile. "I grew up in a clan. It's different, I think, to being in a city. Always on the move, eating what you can find. I had one or two friends, but I can't remember their names anymore. Since I had magic I was pretty much always going to be a keeper at some point. Has Merrill told you much about being a first?"
You wave your hand back and forth. "In a sense. She said it was mainly studying."
"She's not wrong." Lanaya says with a bitter smile. "That's pretty much it, without discussing me predecessor. How about you?"

"I was born in Tirion, the white city of the Noldor." You tell her.
"Where's that?" Lanaya asks.
"Across the western sea. Beyond a magical barrier." You inform her, leaving the part about hailing from a different world aside. "I was the first son of Fëanáro and Nerdanel, and I helped raise my brothers."
"What was that like? I don't have any siblings." Lanaya comments.
"In truth it was often annoying. I suspect no small part of my patience was born from dealing with them." You confess. "I struggle to explain it to people, it has always been a part of my life. I genuinely do not know what it would have been like without them."
Who would you have been without those bundles of chaos disguised as Quendi? A vastly different person, most likely.

"We had a large family, for all that my Father did not care for his brothers. We spent many days with our cousins." You tell the Dalish keeper. "I was always closest to Findekáno, we spent many a day at play or study together. As we grew older we would attend the parties our grandfather threw."
You lean your head back to look up at the sky. "I cannot describe them in enough detail. The Noldor were at the height of our power and nobility at the time, and those gatherings were always filled with music and dancing. I could have lived all my life like that, in hindsight I wish I had."
You fall silent in thought, Lanaya speaks up. "Let us move away from such thoughts."

The two of you while away hours in idle small talk. You discuss the games you had played as children, the things you had learned, what you had always hated in childhood. The conversation wanders quite naturally, and you find yourself more at ease than you had expected. Lanaya is no great speaker, but she has a keen mind and a wit that is passable if not great. You depart late in the evening from a comfortable atmosphere and confident that you have forged the beginnings of a solid relationship with your fellow leader.

You are moving towards your warriors before you even fully register your decision. There is no doubt in your mind as to where your talents are best used, both in terms of need and potential for improvement.
"Straighten that arm!" You snap out pointing at one of the more egregious mistakes. "Keep those shields high! You will be complaining of far worse than how tired your arms are should you drop them in battle!"
You move among your warriors, correcting stances and demanding effort from them. It is an easy trap to fall into, simply going through the motions of a drill. Doing so will only hamper their growth, drills done properly are done with focus and intent.

Your warriors heed your words with the dedicated focus you have come to expect of them. There is no lack of will, merely human failing in their flagging at drill. Energised by your presence, they throw themselves into their practice with gusto. So impressed by their dedication are you, that you arrange another impromptu tournament. A series of tasks must be accomplished on horseback. You wait as they take turns in groups of four. It is pleasing to realise that they maintain the use of teamwork to elevate each individual. It would not do to allow them to grow complacent though. You call Orundómë to your side and ride the course yourself. Having created it you easily manage each task with ease and speed that they cannot match.

When you slide from Orundómë's back to be greeted by silence, you fear you have made a mistake. Worried that you have crushed their spirits by showing off. You are mentally chastising yourself for allowing your pride to get the better of you again, when the warriors in training give a great cry as one.
"Best of three!"
It seems they have taken your performance as a personal challenge, and they ride the course again and again to try and beat your time. You suspect their attempts are doomed, Orundómë is far faster than their horses after all. It does give you time to teach Anneth, who has not joined in the second or any subsequent attempts.

You look over your warriors practicing. Wooden training swords making motions that, while basic, may very well save their lives should there ever be a need for battle. Outside the walls, beyond your sight, your farmers plant, grow and tend to the food that sustains everyone who dwells within Endataurëo. You also see the vintners bringing grapes to the press to get next week's wine started. It is a scene of the kind of tranquillity that comes from activity rather than stillness. Everyone has their role and take pride in fulfilling it. It is a scene you have seen in many cities of the Noldor, and you are proud to have brought it to these aftercomers.

Thinking of your homeland was a mistake, as it has begun to draw your eye to the errors made by your warriors. They are often small things that only matter in duels between those of great skill. That does not stop you from noticing, or from being concerned. These errors should be corrected early, lest they become the foundation of other larger problems. Though you cannot recklessly leap to do so. Even as you are watching you can see many corrections that could be made to the vintners' technique also. Though you cannot see them, you know that the same is true of your farmers. You want to improve them all, but you can only do so for one group at a time.

You teach Anneth about strategy and tactics. You want to make sure that you can tell her 'take that hill' and trust her to lead your men to do so effectively. You wind up using small wooden blocks and sticks to represent formations, which you move around a map drawn in the dirt. You are fortunate she has a grounding in combat, as she understands many of the factors you are trying to cover without needing an explanation. For example, you do not need to tell her why holding the high ground is an advantage, she has fought up hill and knows that it is already. By the time practice has ended you are certain that you can trust her to lead your warriors when you cannot.

The strange pull into the Beyond is one that fascinates you. It could be the call of Mandos, you suppose. Even that would be useful to you, though. If it is merely the pull of your soul to his halls, then it will let you find your way home. It could be something else though. Perhaps your innate connection to your homeland? Or something unique to this world? You want to find out. As such, when you return from Lanaya's clan, you stop only for a bath before beginning your investigation.

Your first step is to rule out what the pull is not. To do so, you ask Merrill and Xandar what the feeling of being a mage is like.
"Uh. I don't really know, sorry. I've never not been a mage." Merrill apologise. "If you really pushed me I'd say it's like having an extra sense for things and the ability to make things happen."
"So you would not describe the sensation as a pull or a tug into the Beyond on your soul?" You clarify.
Merrill looks at you like you are crazy, then smacks her forehead with her palm.
"I'm not aware of my soul like you are Neylafinwë. But no, I don't feel any pull into the Beyond. I just end up there sometimes." She answers your question

Xandar has a very similar, though more confusing answer.
"It's like there's this great welling of the Maker's gift within me. When I focus, I can make it spill into the real world." He gushes.
"I see, you would not describe it as any kind of pulling or tugging sensation then?" You ask
"Well sometimes." He replies to your surprise. "I feel pulled to act in the Makers name. To protect his children and crush the Chantry, that edifice of corruption to a false idol!"
You want to copy Merrill's by striking your own head. "You are not talking about magic, are you?"
Xandar disagrees with your assessment. "Yes, I was."
"Magic is what is making you want to destroy something you hate?" You prod, sceptically.
Your reply gives Xandar much to think about apparently, because he stops answering your questions.

Now that you have established that what you are experiencing is in no way similar to what being a mage is like, you are free to examine it on your own. Your first step is to attempt to find the Veil as you did in the Beyond. In order to do so, you exit your stronghold and extend your senses. You find nothing, despite extensive searching. The failure is telling, it indicates that the Veil is not a part of the physical world. You idly wonder if the Veil itself is the source of the pull. It seems to want you behind it, if its attempt to suck you in is any indication. Perhaps it uses the pull as a lure.

The problem you have is that you can only speculate. Nobody seems to know what you are talking about around here. Unless you actually enter the Beyond to examine the pull in more detail, you will need a different source from usual. Entering the beyond would be dangerous, though you suppose you could probably manage to enter it using the process you used to escape it. If you do it while awake you might even bring your body. Merrill also made a potion that sent you there once, perhaps that could be replicated. Though it may be unnecessary. You have not asked either of the Keepers, and the Chantry apparently controls information on magic among humans. You could also ask that spirit, assuming it is not too angry at you.

You have a spirit that exited the Beyond somehow, you can think of no good reason not to ask it how it managed to do so. Perhaps you will be lucky enough to be able to recreate it yourself. Worst case scenario, you prevent others from using the same method. With this in mind you ask Merrill if you can borrow her spirit in a jar.
"You're not going to break it are you?" Merrill glares at you suspiciously.
"I have no intention of doing so at this moment." You meet her glare with a cool gaze.
"That's not a no…" She says.
"Merrill, I did not risk life and limb to allow you to capture the thing only to turn around and destroy it now." You resist the temptation to roll your eyes.

As you leave with the spirit jar, you strengthen your mental defences. No need to be reckless at this late hour. You enter the study, closing the door behind you. You place the jar on the desk. It is strange, you expect to feel the bubbling euphoria that you associate with the spirits presence, but the jar keeps it contained and you feel nothing.
"How did you escape the Beyond." You ask bluntly.
The spirit hovers in its jar as a cloud of pulsing golden light. It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realise you cannot hear its answer because of how high your mental defences are raised.
When you relax them, just slightly, you hear its 'voice'. "Why should I tell you anything, Knowledge? If you wanted to talk, the time was back in the forest."

You consider threatening the creature, but you had told Merrill you did not plan to destroy the creature. You also suspect that the creature may be incapable of fear. Instead, you decide to take a risk. The spirit is trying to fit you into a paradigm it understands, so you should give it an understandable reason for your actions.
"If you wanted to talk, you should not have tried to take what was mine." You retort coolly.
For a moment you think it has not worked, then you get the rippling sensation to the creatures voice that you associate with laughter.
"What is yours? Yesss. I had wondered how it was you were out and about. The mage girl I assume." The spirit's 'voice' almost sounds like a purr.

You are straying dangerously close to lying here, so you reply, "I do not have to answer your questions if you will not answer mine."
"No need. I know." The spirit replies. "Still, question for a question sounds like the sort of thing you would get up to. How about it?"
"Yes it is, and yes we may. My turn, how did you escape the Beyond." You reply without hesitation.
"But I haven't asked…" The 'voice' actually sounds like it is laughing now. "Well played Knowledge. Very well, I will tell you."
You take a seat, waiting for the spirit to begin.

"I had wandered into parts that are rarely visited. I was amused by the thought of creating something like the roads I sometimes saw, and it was proving very difficult. During my attempts I opened some kind of rift, which I entered. The land I found was strange. It was solid like this world yet not a part of it. I wandered from place to place, finding countless windows that looked out to here. I attempted to leave through them, but those that were not blocked prevented my exit. Finally, I found one near here that allowed me through. I hopped into that spider and ran for it." The spirit relays.

You consider simply trading a question for the location, but you decide it would be unwise. You had 'tricked' the spirit into giving you information for free and it would likely return the favour by asking something you do not want to answer. 'How do I get out of this jar' is the first one that springs to mind. You are also worried by how the conversation with the creature has you repeatedly skirting the edges of honesty. You were not raised to be a liar and you are uncomfortable attempting to be.

"I will not let you out of the jar. I will bring you with me and you can guide me thusly." You inform the spirit.
"That is not an exchange. I get nothing out of it." The spirit replies.
"Merrill has informed me that you seek experiences. You would be granted the chance to experience the forest once more, not to mention whatever adventures might befall us on the journey." You point out.
"That may be true, but I will still be watching, not truly experiencing it." The spirit counters.
"So you have seen me fight before? I guarantee it is like nothing you have ever seen before." You present your 'offer'.
The spirit is silent for several moments, then it pulses twice in rapid succession. "Very well. Pick me up, let's go."

"It's this way, I think." The spirit says hesitantly.
"You do not have limbs, I cannot see where you are pointing." You state flatly.
This journey has been a disaster from the beginning. The spirit has a poor sense of direction. Which would be bad enough on its own, but it also does not really understand the physical world. You have no idea how to interpret the phrase 'past the thin part of the Veil where you feel slightly stronger'. That 'Joy' seems to believe you are a spirit like him does not help.
"I'm telling you we should follow the pulling." The spirit argues.
"I feel nothing, as I have told you before." You growl at the jar.

"Look, you want to find this place, so you have to work with me." The spirit says.
That is the final straw, you raise the jar to your eyes and yell, "I am working with you! I am bending over backwards trying to accommodate you! It is hardly my fault that you have no idea how to give directions in the physical world, nor is it my fault that you apparently barely remember the way! If you are serious about helping me then I need an actual, physical landmark I can navigate by!"
"Listen, Knowledge…" The spirit begins.
Driven by rage, you do not let him speak. "I am not a Spirit! I am Nelyafinwë! You will address me as such."

You are interrupted by a roar. Your yelling has attracted a strange creature down on you. At first glance it appears to be a bear, but the spikes that protrude from it and the feeling of dark taint that emanates from it leave you certain that there is more too it than that. You place the jar down and draw your sword.
"That thing was near the window! We must be close!" The spirit says.

The fight is not difficult. You slay the creature without incident, though the struggle is fierce. Across the clearing more than once you end up circling. The spikes and a bear's natural mass making it hard to land a decisive blow. When you have slain the bear you turn back to retrieve the spirit, only to find shards of glass laying where it once was. In the struggle you or the bear had smashed the glass and the spirit is gone.