AN: I wanted to apologise for not updating yesterday. I've been doing something this week and simply was so busy I forgot. It may happen again next week, though I will try to avoid it.

"A Blight!?" Merrill shrieks then grabs her ears. "Ow! That was too loud."
"It is the current working theory, according to the Grey Warden I spoke to." You reply distractedly, rubbing at your own ears from her volume.
Merrill recovers before you do, pausing for a moment to check for hearing damage. "That's extremely bad news. Ferelden's Grey Wardens were only let back in twenty years ago. They're severely understrength. And considering the recent war with Orlais…"
You heave a sigh; it seems the problems of Beleriand will never truly be behind you. "King Cailan is going to be stubborn about asking for their help. If we are not careful Ferelden will become a base for further incursions."

Merrill is clearly taking your pessimism hard. "Well, maybe there's something we can do?"
"Perhaps, unfortunately I simply do not know enough about blights in general, or the strategic picture of this one in specific to make a decision." You reply, eyes turning towards the gathering darkness in the south.
Merrill shrinks in on herself further. "I suppose we'll be leaving then. I know that my clan probably will when they hear the news. Maybe Lanaya's too, though she seems more stubborn than I remember."
"It is not my habit to flee from danger, not unless I have no choice in the matter." You state.
Though you cannot see her you know Merrill is staring at you. "You just said that there's nothing we can do! You're staying despite that?"
"I said I did not know what I can do." You reply. "I intend to find out. At the end of the week, I will travel to the Kocari Wilds to see the foe for myself."

Merrill chuckles tiredly from behind you. "I should have expected that much from you. Just another challenge to face?"
You shake your head. "The return of an old enemy, one I intend to see dead before I leave."
"You know these things don't really go away, right? There's been four blights in recorded history. I don't think you'll be able to end it for good." Merrill sounds both worried and sceptical.
You had not known that explicitly but, given that there was a term for it, you had assumed it was a persistent problem.
"Regardless, I will do what I can, to help end this one if nothing else." You agree tiredly.

A moment of silence passes, then Merrill asks. "Who are you taking with you?"
"Well it cannot be Ranger; he has things he needs to do here." You say.
"And it's probably not a good idea for me to go if Xandar doesn't, the last thing we need is for a group of Chantry zealots to burst in here and see him alone." Merrill groans.
Another sigh. "Perhaps it would be best if I go alone."
"No!" Merrill yells, before continuing in a somewhat more sedate voice. "That is entirely too dangerous! Xandar and I can come together. He's a healer, so if anyone gets hurt, you'll want him.
You nod to acknowledge her point. "But if anything goes wrong, he is completely incapable of defending himself. Given the endless numbers of the forces of darkness, there is a high chance we would be unable to defend him."

Merrill looks as though she wants to argue further, but you have made a decision.
"I go alone." You proclaim. "I will not be swayed on this Merrill."
If you were to take anyone with you, it would be the warriors you have been training. The simple fact is that doing so would leave Endataurëo dangerously undefended. You have five guarding Gladesville, and while your purchase of armour means you could still take five more, the remaining warriors are either without armour, or completely unequipped. You do not want to risk something happening to Endataurëo while you are gone. Perhaps it is your overprotective tendencies acting up again, but the forest is not free from danger because the creatures within do not wish to dare your walls.

Merrill is clearly less than pleased with your words, but just as you are learning to discern when she is too committed to be swayed, she is learning the same of you. She crosses her arms and glares at you but does not argue with your decision.
"Fine." She grumbles. "I suppose you would know more than me. Probably not safe to risk being infected anyway."
You smile. "I am glad that you are not taking this personally."
Merrill blinks in confusion. "What kind of person gets upset that someone won't take them somewhere dangerous."
Your entire family for a start, but that is beside the point. "I did not want you to feel as though I did not think you were capable of facing the danger."

Merrill lets out a nervous giggle. "If I'm being honest, the idea of fighting darkspawn terrifies me. Even if you win, you could still lose."
"Then why were you so determined to accompany me?" You ask, as it is apparently your turn to be confused.
"Well. Um. That is." Merrill's cheeks turn bright scarlet. "I was worried about you. I mean, I'd be upset if you died."
You nod slowly, hardly convinced but willing to leave the topic alone for now. "Understandable, it would be rather inconvenient for me as well.".
"You're being entirely too cavalier about this! If you died… Oh, right. Immortal." Merrill, who had puffed up in indignant fury, shrinks in on herself as she remembers who she is talking to.

You fight back a laugh at her mortified expression. "There is no need for shame. You have lived long with mortality; it will take time to adjust. Besides, death is a cause for grief even among my people. Some of the fallen never emerge from the halls of Mandos, and those that do may be there for centuries or millennia."
Merrill quickly regains some of the anger that had been propelling her earlier. "If it's such a problem then why are you treating it like it's nothing? Do you know what would happen if you were to die?"
"Many things would change, others would stay the same. Some would mourn, some would celebrate." You reply seriously. "That is not a reason not to do what is necessary. I go not to certain death, only to great danger. If I were to flee from it, I would be a coward."

Merrill stares at you stubbornly for a long time. You meet her gaze unflinchingly. You had made your peace with death atop Thrangodrim, it no longer holds any power over you. The deadlock seems as though it will never end but, of the two immortals involved, you have the advantage in patience. Merrill breaks her gaze and looks away.
"I already said it was fine." She grumbles. "But you better come back, or I'll never forgive you!"
You cannot prevent the bright laughter her words inspire. "Truly, your concern is touching! Never fear, I had no plans to die even before you spoke."
Merrill glares at you and changes the subject. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"I plan to spend a week scouting the area. Given the travel time, then I should be gone a week and a half." You muse, more to yourself than to Merrill.
Neither too short nor too long. If you cannot find anything in a week then you will not find anything ever.
"That's not so bad." Merrill mutters to herself. "It's just a week, he probably can't get up to too much trouble."
You still your face and hook your thumbs into your belt to keep from shifting. If there is one thing your family tends to do, it is cause and attract trouble. You fully expect there to be multiple events of note while you are away.
"I am certain there will be nothing I cannot handle." You note diplomatically.
Merrill blushes furiously, it turns out she did not realise you could hear her.

You had been all but thrumming with nerves the first week you had to leave Gladesville to its own devices. You think it says something about the last few weeks that you have been entirely too busy to continue to worry about them. Now though, the time you had said that you would leave them alone has passed. You are able to return and see how your student has performed. You ride along with your warriors who are currently taking over for those who have been in the village overnight. Given the purchase of armour last week, there is no longer a need to swap garments. A comfort to all involved, you suspect.

Your arrival among the warriors causes something of a stir. As you ride through the new houses that have been built you catch sight of people waving. A number of workers in the newly expanded farms call out to you as you ride past. You even see some children staring and pointing. You are not sure what is so impressive about you, your riders are armed almost as heavily. Your cloak and horse are nicer, you concede, and you are technically a prince, but the comments you overhear are still a bit much. Ophelia meets you in the village square looking rather well rested and put together.

"Welcome Aráto." She says nobly, bowing shallowly from the waist. "It is good to see you again."
You slide from Orundómë and incline your head in return. "It is good to be back. I must say I am impressed. You must tell me what has transpired to grow the village so."
Ophelia smiles and gestures for you to follow her. "Of course, come inside my house and I'll tell you all about it."
You follow her into one of the new buildings as your warriors head either to their posts or back home to sleep.

"Your home is lovely." You compliment politely.
In truth you find it a little plain. Though admittedly, you appreciate the effort that has gone into it. The furniture, while simple, is made well and there is a nice pot of flowers on a small table.
"You're too kind." Ophelia demurs. "In truth I had hoped to have more amenities for the town, but things did not work out the way I hoped."
"Oh?" You ask, curiosity piqued. "What happened? Everything looks like it has gone very well."
Ophelia smiles slightly and takes a seat. "It looks like it now, but a week after that 'Xandar' fellow visited there was a fire. It took out a lot of houses and we spent the next few weeks trying to fix that. We nearly lost a few people. Last week we managed to get that done and I had a bit of luck. We picked up a few families looking for farmland. Since we had to clear land to fix the houses anyway, we had plenty to spare. They settled here. As you could probably tell."

"And that has solved your food troubles?" You asked, leaning forward in your seat.
"Not really." Ophelia shakes her head. "It made it not so bad, but we were still in trouble. That's when I had my great idea."
"Go on." You prompt.
Ophelia preens. "We still had a lot of cleared land, so I decided to raise some cattle. It gives us a regular source of milk, and it means that we don't need to take chances in hunting so much."
Ophelia is looking at you expectantly, so you smile at her. "Very impressive. You have done well. I am proud of you."
Her celebration was a tad excessive in your opinion. Once she has calmed down, she asks you what you are planning to do while you are here.

"I have no plans actually." You inform the leader of Gladesville. "I simply wished to see how things have gone in my absence. Since you have done such an excellent judge, I am happy to simply speak as one leader to another."
"Uh, what about?" Ophelia asks. "I mean, I'm happy to help with whatever I can but…"
Her hesitance takes you by surprise. It seems that despite your relative fluency in the language, you are still missing some cultural nuance.
"I meant that we will simply talk to each other." You clarify. "I merely wanted to acknowledge how far you have come in the short time I have known you."
"Oh. Oh!" Ophelia's face brightens immensely. "Yes! Absolutely. What should we talk about?"
You consider for a moment. "Perhaps we could share interesting stories of our experiences, I will begin since I brought the topic up."

You relay a tale of one of your many conversations with Thingol and his advisors when the Union was forming. Ophelia seems enthralled by the events, leaning forward with rapt attention.
Alas the tale comes to an end, as all tales must. "All of this was being done in Sindarin too, so I only found out that it was an insult when Moryo was clear across the table swinging a chair at him. Needless to say, negotiations were suspended."
Ophelia stirs as though she has woken from slumber. "What happened? Did you end up convincing him?"
You grimace. "There was a long break in the negotiations, during which time another of my brothers had some, shall we say unkind, interactions with Thingol's daughter. That put an end to any talks of an alliance."

Ophelia notices your skirting around the Lúthien affair but seems willing to not act confrontationally in her response. "Seems silly to do something like that when you're trying to win over her father."
You sigh, not exactly thrilled to talk about Turko and Kurvo's actions in Nagothrond. "He was trying to help, I choose to think he failed due to a complete inability to speak to people rather than any ill intentions. Only he can say for certain. The lesson one should take from that incident is that you cannot force people to help you, it will backfire eventually."
Ophelia nods cautiously, clearly thinking something unkind about Turko. You wish you could blame her for doing so.

"I wish I had a story even half as interesting to share with you." Ophelia sighs. "In truth nothing much of interest happens here."
"A tale is only as good as the telling." You quote to her. "Give it a try, the worst you can do is fail." Ophelia seems uncertain, so you continue. "Trust me, you will learn more from failure than you think.
Ophelia takes several deep breaths than begins her story. "So the builders and the new farmers were having an argument over the houses."
Ophelia tries her hardest, she uses most of the rhetoric techniques you taught her and it is not the worst story you have heard. She does fall into the trap of having to constantly interrupt her own story to explain characters who become important.
"So they ended up building the house themselves." She finishes, looking nervously at you.

One feedback session later, you are once more searching for a topic to discuss.
You have a flash of inspiration, just before the silence extends to an awkward length. "Actually, something of interest came up last week, now that I think of it."
"Oh?" Ophelia prompts. "What has caught your fancy this time?"
"I do not appreciate the implication that I am easily distracted." You reprimand her, before continuing, "The Bann of Whitecliffe came to visit in his former capacity as Lord of Brecilian Forest."
Ophelia's eyes widen immensely. "What!? I thought the forest didn't have a lord."
"Unfortunately, it is more complex than that." You relay the tale of your adventures the previous week.

If Ophelia was surprised before, she is reaching previously undiscovered levels of shock and awe as you tell your tale.
"You met the king? And he made you a noble just because you asked?" She whispers, awestruck.
"It was a great deal more complex than that." You correct her. "Though yes, I did meet him. A rather nice young man, though one who clearly needs to attend his studies with more diligence."
"So you're our lord now?" Ophelia asks, clearly unsure how to feel about that.
You shake your head. "No, the title explicitly came without any land. Presumably to prevent the situation that led me to Denerim in the first place."

"So, who is our lord then? Are they going to be a problem going forward?" Ophelia replies, relieved and concerned.
"The land is 'de jure'," You pronounce the unfamiliar words slowly, "the domain of Teyrn Loghaine. However, due both to the extreme youth of the Teyrnin and the difficulty of actually making use of the forest it exists in a practical grey area where nobody uses it."
"Is that likely to change?" Ophelia asks.
"It seems inevitable given that someone else, namely us, has done all the hard work." You admit, not quite managing to disguise your distaste for the behaviour of human nobles.
"So what are we going to do?" Ophelia asks.

"Given human nature, I think it would be best if we discussed what we know of tax law. That way few if any will be able to fool you into giving more than is your due." You explain.
"Assuming they don't just take it." The girl mutters.
"You let me worry about that." You reassure her, eyes cold.
You really wish you had looked into tax law in more detail, but you only had so much time and the law books were a complete mess. You did not know many of the details, beyond that each lord owned certain portions of their land and could collect rent from them. You were never one to let such a minor hurdle stop you though.

"Let us begin with what we know." You muse. "Firstly that there is some kind of food tax decreed by the Teyrn. Fortunately, based on what he said to me there is some kind of threshold of time or production before it will be collected. Presumably to prevent a famine."
"Of course, it just doesn't take into account the fees the Banns collect, or the rent for the land or any other of the other dozen nobles each taking their cut." Ophelia seethes, rage building in her eyes.
Perhaps in the future you will need to speak to her about whatever noble caused such obvious hate for them. Today you have to wrack your memory for obscure legal trivia in a language you do not speak, so you leave it alone.

"None of those should apply here. To my knowledge only the Teyrn and myself are even technically nobles of the area, and even then, I have no taxation rights." You reassure her.
"Just because it doesn't affect us, doesn't make it fair!" Ophelia shouts, her chair crashing to the floor as she leaps to her feet.
"I was not saying that it was." You reply calmingly. "I merely want us to focus on what we can act on, rather than raging at injustice we cannot stop."
Sheepishly, Ophelia picks up her chair and sits down. "Right. Sorry. Lost my temper."
"Think nothing of it." You reply. "It was almost nostalgic really."
You really do need to find your brothers if you are starting to miss being yelled at for things that are not your fault.

You are grateful that Ophelia moves past that reply without comment. You do not want to be distracted by a tangent on your brothers.
"So, what else is there." She asks.
After extensive thought, you cannot think of anything.
Frustrated, you say, "There is rent, but I do not know enough about the law to say how the forest is classified, or if it even matters."
Ophelia grimaces. "So we don't know, there could be anything."
"Your best bet is to refuse anyone not bearing the Teyrns sigil, and demand a full accounting of what you owe and why. In writing, if possible."
Ophelia nods slowly. "Is that legal."
You wave your hand back and forth. "Depends on which case law you follow, and some careful interpretation of a few proclamations. The important thing is that they will not know either, so you should get away with it. We may be unable to make them be fair, but we can at least keep them consistent."
You still wish you had a better answer.

Merrill rode back to her clan. The discussion she had with Nelyafinwë weighed heavy on her mind, but she was far more concerned for her teacher. Her own experience with the Veil fed those worries still further. She had to resist the urge to exhaust poor Dal'banal'ras by galloping to the clan. Her arrival, when she reached the clan, was more subdued than the last time she had visited. Understandable, given that it was only a week since she had last seen them, but it did nothing to soothe her fears.
"It's good to see you, Merrill." Auriel said. "The Keeper's been weird since you left. She hasn't been sleeping. Can you have a word with her for us about it."
Merrill wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "I'll talk to her. I think I know what's going on, it might be nothing to worry about."

The moment Merrill lays eyes on her teacher, she knows. The process was a success. The new senses she is still getting used to whisper of their kinship. Merrill runs to her first teacher, and now kinsman, with her arms wide open.
"You did it!" She laughs launching herself forward to embrace the Keeper.
The old Dalish wobbles for a few moments but prevents herself from falling.
"I told you not to worry about me didn't I?" She laughs. "It only took a single attempt before I managed it. Much easier once I knew what to expect."
Merrill feels joy threatening to overwhelm her. She buries her face in her teacher's shoulder, lest she break down into uncontrollable bouts of laughter. Marethari's arms tight around her suggesting it is not a struggle she is alone in.

Finally, Merrill and Marethari separate, more neutral in their emotions now.
"Gods, there's so much to talk about." Merrill says, tears of joy still lingering in her eyes. "Not being able to sleep is very weird, isn't it?"
Marethari nods ruefully. "Yes, I find myself with so much time, and no idea of what to do with it. Though, I find the sudden and intense emotional swings far worse personally."
"You have those too?" Merrill says. "Thank goodness. I thought I was going crazy!"
"You're managing it well." Marethari replies encouragingly, before her expression becomes more drawn. "I hope I'm doing as well, but I think I've been stressing the Hahren with my unpredictable moods of late."
Merrill giggles. "Well, at least they'll have a harder time talking behind your back now."
Marethari nods. "Not to mention, most of them have trouble dealing with my new energy. I feel thirty years younger."

The two Dalish passed some time swapping stories of their experiences of their new forms. Tips that worked or things that did not were explored. Eventually the two of them moved on to the prospect of what to do now.
"Obviously we need to spread this to all the Dalish!" Merrill exclaimed. "How can there be any other choice? We've rediscovered our old immortality!"
Marethari sighs. "I'm not saying we shouldn't but think logically. Are the clans ready to have a population that doesn't age? What about the emotional volatility? Are we going to solve the problem of age, only to lose our people to duels?"

Merrill's anger climbs to new heights. It feels as though there is no way to stop it, but with great effort she manages to pause long enough to think about her teacher's words.

With some further thought Merrill acknowledges that her teacher has a point.
"Fine, you might be right. But what are we supposed to do? No matter how much we plan, there is no way to anticipate everything. I know our magic is stronger, but what if people without magic start getting it? How can we plan for that if we don't know it will even happen?" The First argues.
"I know it may seem pointless, but even if it proves useless having a plan will help in the end." Marethari counters.
"What if we compromise?" Merrill suggests. "Let's get Lanaya and some of the other keepers in on this. We already know what's going to happen to keepers."
"And risk accusations of a cartel of immortal tyrants over our people?" Marethari questions. "We cannot keep these changes secret, if we only share them with Keepers it's going to look worse than if we just keep it to ourselves."

"But. But." Merrill wants to argue, but she can't think of any good counter arguments. "Fine. You're right. We should plan."
Marethari smiles kindly. "There's nothing wrong with being excited and wanting to share this with everyone, but we need to plan how to do so first."
"I get it. I do." Merrill says, slumping into her seat. "Where do we start."
"The first thing we should think about is the practical matter of spreading the practice." Marethari muses, resting her chin on a hand. "I mean, that was hardly easy to do for us, and we're used to this sort of thing. How would it go for other people?"

Merrill perks up, always glad to face an intellectual challenge. "We could have lucid dreaming classes! It's a really neat trick that people will sign up for."
"Not everyone will do so, they may worry about being demon targets." Marethari observes. "Even then that does not address the difficulty of passing through the Veil."
"Couldn't we help them with that?" Merrill asks.
Her teacher shakes her head. "No, we don't sleep anymore. We might be visiting the Beyond while we meditate, but I doubt it."
Merrill hadn't even considered that. She was just so used to the idea that everyone who sleeps visits the Beyond that the idea that she did not had never crossed her mind.
"It's a good thing we absorb magic from around us." She says, more to herself than her teacher.

"Stay on topic, Merrill." Marethari reminds her. "I think our best option is to pick up some volunteers and walk them through the process. We leverage social pressure to get everyone else to follow."
"Isn't that going to be a bit slow though?" Merrill asks.
"It is probably better to think of this as developing the process to its greatest extent, rather than spreading a tested procedure around." Marethari explains. "We take it slowly so that there are no unexpected downsides."
Merrill crosses her arms. "Fine, what about the other things you mentioned. How are we going to stop fights from breaking out?"

"Firstly, I think we are just going to have to accept an increase in expressions of emotion among our people." Marethari begins. "There doesn't seem a way around it that doesn't involve mass societal change."
"That's a mass societal change in and of itself though." Merrill points out. "Not to mention, if we're easy to anger then open displays of anger are only going to fuel a vicious cycle."
Marethari winces. "Perhaps, but I don't see another option beyond promoting mass repression among our people."
Merrill pauses, considering. "We could do more classes. Actually, that might be the solution in general. Instead of throwing our people in the deep end, we make it a gradual progression. We run people through training for a few months before the make an attempt."
"Maybe…What would we teach?" Marethari asks.
"Pretty much everything you need to be a mage." Merrill replies. "Mental discipline, self-control, lucid dreaming."

Marethari grimaces. "Personally, I think it will be a hard sell to the clan. I think that a small control group would be best. We can try ideas and see how that works out, work out the kinks as we go."
"Weren't we trying to avoid looking like we were creating a group of elites?" Merrill asked sarcastically.
"Don't give me that attitude, Merrill. This is different and you know it." Marethari replies, glaring at her student.

Both women realised their emotions were running away with them at the same time. The two took a few moments to collect themselves before returning to the conversation.

"What about the population thing?" Merrill asks. "That's stuff like housing and food right. Isn't that a bit long term?"
"Perhaps but the solutions take a long time to implement." Marethari counters. "It's important to consider."
"I don't think we can solve it though." Merrill explains. "It would need us to either settle down or spread out. That's something we'd need to talk to the other clans about."
"Which we can't do until we have a plan." Marethari sighs. "Alright, let's get back to it."

Merrill and Marethari come to a deadlock on what to do. Ironically, Marethari's original idea is quickly tossed out.
"Can you honestly say that you would never, under any circumstances, use your superior power to force others to obey you?" Merrill asks.
"Well that's a bit of an unfair question." Marethari replied, offended. "I am already in a position where that is possible, it has no bearing on this conversation."
"But if you feel that way, when you are the Keeper already, is it not logical that some of the others will feel that way too?" Merrill continued. "And with the new power of our emotions, are people not more likely to act on it. Not to mention people attempting to replicate the process without training or selling the techniques to others."

Marethari had to begrudgingly accept that her idea was too risky after that. She was still against the idea of simply spreading the technique as far as possible, even with the caveat of having classes on how to do so safely.
"We risk far too much in any mass adoption scenario." The Keeper protested. "I would have thought that you would be in favour of asking Nelyafinwë about his people."
"It's because I've already done so that I know it's a bad idea." Merrill replied. "If he were here, he'd say that his people are not our people and trying to use their ways is a mistake."
"We would not be using his people's ways!" Marethari protested. "We'd be taking what works from his culture and synthesising the best ideas with what we know of the Ehlven culture to create something uniquely Dalish."

"How much do we even know about our own people's ways?" Merrill hisses. "Most of what we know is from the Dales, made up of mortals."
Marethari frowned. "Merrill, that's going a bit far, don't you think."
"It's true." They young elf protests. "We can name their nobles, describe the Emerald knights but nothing else. We know that elves ruled the whole continent before humans, but can you name a single king? A nation? A subgroup? Why are we 'elves' instead of 'House of Feanaro, of the Noldor, of the Eldar, of the Quendi?"

Marethari resisted for a little longer, but ultimately Merrill managed to sway her.

With her Keeper's approval Merrill began working on the lesson plan for the 'immortalisation program'. At first she'd chuckled over the name, but a memory made her change her mind.
Nelyafinwë's lips curled into a smile that he quickly hid with a glass of wine.
"You want to call it what?" Ranger has yelled.
"The irregular pentagon of trade." The Noldo answered, laughter in his voice.
"I've been infected." Merrill gasped in horror.
When she overcame her existential crisis over her degrading name sense, Merrill quickly set about converting her 'prevent Xandar from becoming an abomination' program into something that would prepare her people to reclaim their heritage.
Dalish Revitalisation Project? Names were hard.

The end result is a five week programme of intensive meditation exercises and self-control classes. In truth it almost seems like some kind of religious order initiation, combining elements of anger management, grief counselling and Mage training into an abomination that bears no clear resemblance to any of them. The important part is that it is simple. Teaching something without explaining why it needed to be done was difficult, but Merrill had successfully kept anything not strictly necessary out of the programme. Well, Marethari had, Merrill had a tendency to go off on tangents that her other teacher only encouraged. The important thing is that it was finished, and in five weeks the first transformations would take place.