AN: With the end of this week comes the last of the thing that was taking up my time. Hopefully there will be no more late chapters. A fun fact as an aside, I try to make the OCs I use something that could conceivably exist in the original work. Ranger could easily have faded into the background as a werewolf and Xandar, well as the chapter implies, died before the game even began.

Xandar has had several weeks as difficult as your own, more so in some ways considering it began with him being imprisoned. As a result, it seems obvious that you should spend some time with the zealous young man.
"Thank you teacher!" Xandar yells enthusiastically. "I'm always happy to spend time with you!"
Why does everyone want to give you hearing damage this week?
"Please speak more quietly." You say, as the spike of pain fades away.
"Sorry teacher." Xandar says at a much quieter, though still enthusiastic, volume.
"It is fine." You wave your hand. "Let us go outside, it is a beautiful day, and it would be a shame to waste it."
It will also ensure that if he should raise his voice again you will not suffer to the same degree.

The courtyard is a work of art you are proud of. The trees and flowers grow naturally without looking chaotic. The result is something closer the idyllic forests Yavana cultivated than the chaos of real forests that grow without supervision. You and Xandar take a seat beneath a large tree. You are considering what to discuss about when Xandar surprises you by speaking.
"I'm sorry teacher." His tone is uncharacteristically quiet and subdued.
You tilt your head. "Where is this coming from? You were enthusiastic earlier, and I see no reason for you to apologise."
"No, no, no." Xandar quickly protests, waving his arms. "I'm still super excited. It's just that because of me we had to deal with the Chantry and now they can butt in and demand you worship the maker and…"

"Enough Xandar!" You cut through his apology before it can spiral beyond all control. "Much of that is simply untrue, and I can hardly blame you for Templars doing what they are supposed to. If there is anyone to blame for the results of the inquest it is I."
Xandar looks like he disagrees. "Still though, if it weren't for me…"
You interrupt him, because manners are less important than cutting off this spiral of self-deprecation "It would have been something else. Merrill perhaps or even me."
Xandar looks up at you. "You mean it?"
"Of course I do!" You exclaim, almost offended that he would question your word. "Besides, with a formal title it will be much harder for the Chantry to act against me, so you should not worry about them."
Xandar is sufficiently calmed that you can get to the reason you brought him here in the first place.

"Xandar." You state, looking the young man in the eyes. "How are you feeling?"
Xandar is clearly taken aback by your question. "I'm fine teacher. Why are you asking?"
"From the way you were talking earlier, not to mention your feelings on the Chantry, it seemed logical that you might be unbalanced somewhat. Speaking to someone about your feelings is something I have heard helps." You inform your student. "I am unsure how much I can help, but I am willing to do what I can. All you have to do is ask."
Xandar smiles at your words. "Thank you, teacher. It's fine really, you don't need to worry about me."

You lean back. "If you are truly fine, then very well. Far be it for me to tell you how you should feel about something. But I fear you misunderstand something; I always worry about you."
The human looks surprised and taken aback. "You sound like you're my father."
You scoff. "Absolutely not. I worry about my brothers true, but I trust they can take care of themselves. I swore an oath to Eru to help you. I do not think you realise what that means. I have fought multiple armies and many spirits of darkness for oaths, among my people the breaking of an oath is not considered a crime because it is considered impossible. If you want me not to worry about you, too late. I will worry about you until the day you die."

Xandar leaps to his feet, raising his voice at you for perhaps the first time since you have met him. "So, I'm a burden to you? Is that what you're trying to say? That I should never have made you promise to help me?"
"Sit down." You say, tone unyielding.
"What?" Xandar replies, wrong footed by his surprise.
"We are going to talk about this, not get into a screaming match that solves nothing." You state. "As such we will not continue until you are seated."
You had done this with your brothers before, and it usually resulted in them yelling at you for a while. You would simply ignore them until they sat down, which usually served its intended purpose of preventing violence from breaking out. Thus, Xandar sitting down immediately took you completely off guard.

You scramble to get back to the point you were making. "Right. What I was trying to say, is that you are my responsibility. I want to see you safe, more than that I want you to be happy. Even if I had not sworn an oath, I have grown somewhat fond of you. So, if you are hurting, do not try to hide it from me. Let me help you, however I can."
Xandar is silent for a while. You fear your words have done nothing, but eventually he speaks.
"I can't really say how I feel." He confesses. "I'm scared, glad, angry and it's all just, so confusing. I feel like I caused everyone here so much trouble, when you saved my life and more, probably."

You reach over to clasp his shoulder. "Trouble is a part of life. If it had not been you, it would have been something else. You should not feel responsible for what happened."
Emotions were never your strong suit. You could stir them certainly, but calming them? That sounded like a problem for literally anybody else, cousin Artanis for example. Still, you have walked a few warriors through their regrets and guilt before. You do what you can to help Xandar with his feelings. You think it goes well, or as well as such things can.
At the end of this, Xandar says, "I have something to tell you."

"I had a teacher before I met you." Xandar confesses. "I had just arrived here you see."
As Xandar trails off, you raise an eyebrow. "Interesting, is there a particular reason you came here?"
Xandar thinks for a long time, then slowly shakes his head. "That's a story for another time, I think. It's not really the point right now."
You shrug. "Very well, tell me about this teacher."
Xandar looks at his hands. "I'd just left home and was trying to live here. I wasn't very good at it, and I nearly died after eating some poisonous mushrooms. That's when I met my teacher. He said he saved my life, but after talking with Antarra I think I might have been fine even without him."

Xandar pauses, his gaze distant. You assume he is gathering his thoughts and allow the silence to remain unbroken.
"He always talked about 'them' coming for him. I figured he was talking about the chantry, I always felt like they were coming for me as well. He told me that I owed him, and I had to help him. He didn't teach me much. Usually just bits here and there. Stuff about binding spirits and the like, but I didn't really get it." Xandar snorts and smiles to himself. "What little I remember makes more sense now that Merrill's explained things to me. I guess he thought I was already a mage? Or maybe he didn't care to teach me properly."

Xandar once again falls silent. Once more you give him time, but it quickly becomes clear that he has nothing further to say.
"What happened then? You were alone when I met you, or was that house his?"
Xandar starts from his thoughts, shaking his head. "Right, sorry. Kind of got distracted. So, he kept getting mad at me. I don't think I was doing what he wanted, he started muttering about 'trading up' or something. I was getting worried, but I didn't think I had anywhere else to go."
Once more the human pauses, smiling this time. "Then one night, my dreams were filled with light."

His voice causes you to recall what he said when he met you, "That was when I arrived in Thedas, at the start of this year, was it not?"
Xandar nods. "Yes, it was. I know you probably don't think about it much, but to me the light of the Maker was a sign."
"It is the light of the Eldar." You correct tiredly. "Eru has little to do with it."
Xandar nods, despite clearly not believing you. "Suddenly my dreams were filled with a burning star, just over the horizon. It promised safety, warmth, hope. I told my teacher, I wanted us to go together. He said that it was clearly one of 'their' tricks and refused. Eventually, I saw the star coming closer and I made up my mind. I had to see it for myself. I wasn't brave enough to approach directly so I made the house. It proved was worthwhile in the end. When I saw you make this place out of thin air I finally understood, you are a messenger of the Maker, here to lead us all home."

There was a time you would have openly wept to hear such a tale, to see the clear false hope in this child's eyes. It says something about the exile of the Noldor that you are all but numb to the tragedy of the tale. The corners of your eyes are wet, and you feel slightly melancholy, but no more.
"I am not a messenger of the Maker." A phrase quickly becoming a refrain in your conversations with Xandar. "I cannot lead your people anywhere. I can only do so much."
Xandar smiles at you. "I know you'll find a way."
Well, you do not want to turn this into an argument, so you change the topic. "Will this teacher come looking for you do you think."
"No, teacher." Xandar replies.

The firstborn has a duty to their younger siblings. These are words that your people live by. There may be many reasons why Finrod is venerated for his actions towards Beren, but one of the more significant is the sense of obligation that the Quendi feel towards the Atani. You yourself feel such things keenly, as the eldest in your family and with the knowledge of how likely it is that your brothers would die if you were not watching over them. You had not seen any of their deaths personally, you had been elsewhere. Perhaps if you had not been separated, they might have lived. Such thoughts are what runs through your mind as you consider your plans for training the staff of Endataurëo.

The housekeepers are more than capable of doing what you need them to do at this point. You see no reason to intrude into their training a second time. You are also cautious to train the infantry, considering that the whole point of hiring teachers was so that you would not need to spend time on them. On the other hand, what do you really need to teach your cavalry? Perhaps you should simply focus on your vintners and farmers, especially since they will likely be paying for the upkeep of future soldiers. You would love to train your blacksmiths, but you understand next to nothing about their craft. You could attend their lessons in the hope that you either learn something or that they trigger a buried memory of something your father or brother had said. These are your considerations as you survey Endataurëo from a window.

During this time, you notice some kind of argument developing at the wine press. With a sigh, you head off to the other duty of the elder to the younger. Solving their arguments before there are consequences. When you arrive at the argument, you are surprised by its contents. Rather than the 'it is my turn to use this' argument you were expecting, you instead are hearing an argument about how exactly to make wine.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" The new vintner representative, you think her name is Yanni, yells.
"You're doing it wrong!" The older vintner roars back.

"Enough." Your voice cuts through their argument without needing to be raised. "What exactly is the problem?"
Those who were involved in the argument start guiltily and both try to speak together.
"Well the thing is…"
"He said that…"
You raise your hand to stop them both. "I cannot understand you when you speak together. Yanni may speak then you may go."
The dark skinned woman seems pleased by this decision. "We were just doing our jobs, when this group came up and said we were doing it wrong. We told them we were just doing what we were told and they lost their minds."
You nod and turn to the other man.
The man in question has crossed his arms and is scowling. "They're using the old process. It's going to give us all a bad name if their wine is substandard, and it's going to be."

You fight back the urge to sigh. "So fundamentally the problem is that you want them to follow the new process and they do not know how to."
There is some protests but no meaningful counterarguments, so eventually your view prevails.
"There is an obvious solution here." You swear there is something wrong with the humans here, they keep missing obvious solutions. "The older group can teach the newer group the new process, it was largely their idea after all."
The two representatives' glance at each other, neither seemingly enthused by the idea.
"If we do that, we're not going to be able to make any wine this week." The old man complains. "Is it worth it?"

Having one group of Vintners teach the other is easily worth the time it will save you. You can more than live with one week less of production, it will prove to be incredibly profitable in the long run. It would only take eight weeks to make back the loss of sales, it may even drive up demand. Then again, you had made Moryo promise to not to artificially manipulate markets, so it would be hypocritical to attempt to do so yourself, not to mention the risk inherent in such ventures.
"It is in fact worth it. I think it will be beneficial from both a financial and a personal level." You inform the old man. "It will hopefully ensure that this argument does not emerge again. Perhaps you will even make friends with each other."
Despite the two groups' scepticism of that last comment, they agree to do as you asked.

You walk away from that conversation to find the warriors you have decided to train. Your infantry need training. While they have someone to teach them, you want to make sure that you cannot speed them on their way. If you can, you will, if you cannot, perhaps you will visit the blacksmiths or train your horsemen some more. Your journey takes you across your compound to where the infantry are assembling for their journey to their teacher.
"M'lord." They murmur together.
They wait for you to speak, concerning in its own way. It is probably to your benefit to spend this time with them, that they can know you better.
"Greetings warriors." You say to them. "I intend to accompany you through this lesson to make sure you are being taught well."
"Yes m'lord." They chorus back at you.
You are really going to have to do something about this lack of engagement.

The group ambles along the road without any particular formation. Their pace is abysmal, and their seeming lack of urgency annoys you. What eventually breaks your patience is when you begin to outpace them. You are not trying to; you are simply walking at a comfortable pace. Despite this, you find yourself stopping frequently waiting for them to catch up to you.
"Attention!" You roar, at full battlefield volume.
The warriors jerk where they stand, looking around as bird flee from your shout.
"Stand up straight! Hands on weapons or at your side! Look at me!" You command. "When I say attention that is what I mean!"
When all the men have obeyed you, with admirable promptness, you continue with your instructions.
"You and you stand side by side." You instruct at a quieter tone. "Each of you choose a man to stand behind and form a line."

It takes some time to get the group into two lines of equal length. It is not as much time as a larger group would take, but it is still a longer task than it seems at first.
"Now, I am going to call out either left or right. When I say left, you will step with your left foot, when I say right you will do the same with your right. Any questions?" You instruct, looking over the lines. "No? Left! Right! Left! Right!"
It takes the group a little bit to get into the rhythm of marching, but once they do you are moving at an acceptable pace. It is still slow by your standards, but you can fix that with drill. What is more important is that you no longer have to wait for them.

This quickly becomes the theme for the lesson. You aid Sir Avan in a demonstration of the importance of formations against their foes. You fill in for the gaps in his knowledge by explaining how and why the formations they are learning are effective. Sir Avan, being a knight, learned largely as a lone fighter and is relying on his experience to teach formation fighting.
"A shield wall is not obsolete." You inform him seriously. "It is contextual, as all tactics are. You likely have rarely seen it as charging such a formation with cavalry is foolish."
"If you say so." The knight shrugs. "I'd rather just focus on what we're doing now."
You accept his comment and return to the lesson. It is not the last conversation of that nature the two of you share.

During your time with the group, you pick out an individual who is clearly outperforming his comrades. Whether due to natural aptitude or superior intelligence he is learning faster and consistently winning spars. You take the man aside about halfway through the session.
"What is your name?" You ask.
"Mark, m'lord." He replies.
"Tell me Mark, would you be interested in a more challenging role?" You inquire.
The man grins. "I'll try anythin' once m'lord."
You had picked him on something of a whim. Your warriors are currently few enough that either you or Anneth could lead them alone. You decided that it might be worth elevating him to a different role simply because you can. It would be beneficial to have the bones of an organisation present early as well, but not necessary.

Tell me, do you know what the role of a standard bearer is?" You ask the man.
Mark frowns. "They carry the flags, don't they?"
"Correct, though I think you are underestimating how important that role is." You make a mental note to discuss the importance of banners to your warriors in general. "A standard bearer has the challenging task of not only carrying the standard but using it to inspire their comrades and defending it."
The man is still confused; you suspect that you are not going to be able to explain the role until you explain the importance of banners. Since you have no desire to explain this more than once, you decide to address the whole group.

"Forgive the interruption Sir Avan. Something has come to my attention that I would have addressed before too much time has passed." You apologise to the warrior's teacher.
"What would that be?" The knight looks at you from the corner of his eye.
"The role of banners in an army." You explain.
The knight shrugs. "Sure, knock yourself out."
Another strange saying to look into later you muse, turning to address your warriors.
"Who here can tell me what the flags of an army mean?" You ask the men.
They look at each other and shuffle nervously, you wait patiently for an answer.
"Which side they're on?" One nervously ventures.
"In part yes." You smile encouragingly. "Anyone else.
A few more answers are tried, including which lord the soldiers serve and many other technically correct answers.

"All of these are good answers." You inform them. "But they are all missing the core of what a flag does. A flag, fundamentally, is a tool for communication. Hence, it is used to signal allegiance and all the other things you mentioned."
The humans all make an understanding sound, nodding to each other and smiling.
"There are generally three kinds of flag." You continue. "Personal flags that mark someone of importance, such as the commander. Signal flags, that relay orders. The kind of flag I want to talk about today, is the unit flag."
You give a quick look to see if anyone recognises the term, which they do not.
"What in Andraste's name are you talking about?" Sir Avan asks.

You resist the urge to sigh. "A unit flag represents a group of warriors. It serves to tell the commander where each unit is and what they are capable of. This is the kind of flag you will be receiving as a reward for your hard work in training today. The unit flag represent you, your accomplishments and your honour. Though I doubt you will feel this way at first, you should consider the loss of your flag as a stain on your honour. As well as those things, the flag also represents my trust in you. That I believe you are worthy to fight by my side, and on my behalf."
Sir Avan is grumbling something under his breath about 'newfangled ideas' and 'peasants having honour, hah', but you ignore him. What is important is how your warriors take it, and they are clearly more moved than he is.

You take Mark aside once more as the others return to their drills with more enthusiasm. "I hope you have a better understanding of the importance of the standard now."
The man swallows. "Now I feel like it's too big of a responsibility."
You grip his shoulder firmly and meet his eyes. "A standard bearer is chosen because they are the best warrior, and brave. I firmly believe that you are worthy of the honour, and that you will be the rock around which your friends will rally."
The man still seems uncertain but nods. You spend the rest of the lesson teaching him how to fight with only one hand. He is acceptable at it. You ended up giving him one of the banners from Endataurëo, as you did not have any others. The infantry seemed very proud to have it none the less.

You have been 'fluent' in Ehlven for some time. You simply have had too many other things to do to sit down and teach it to anyone. This is a shame, but understandable. You simply have too many things to do. Now you have finally carved out a few hours before you need to leave. The time has come to approach the minor challenge of reviving a dead language. Many would believe your words either sarcasm or arrogance, but the simple fact is that the task truly is simple. It is not a quick task, but that does not make it a major challenge or hard, merely something that takes time.

In order to revive a language, two things need to be present. Firstly, you need people to be fluent in the language. Then they need to use the language for something. These two factors feed each other, if people are fluent in the language, they are more likely to use it, and if more people use it then more people will want to learn it. This is why the challenge takes time, you need to spread the language through teaching it to people. This is a process that takes a significantly amount of time. As a result, the obvious option of simply opening a class for the Dalish where you teach them the language is not one you are interested in.

That leaves you with the question of what to do exactly. You could obviously simply teach Merrill, something she would probably advocate strongly if she could read your mind. You quickly check your mental defences just to make sure she cannot. That thought leads to a better idea. You could teach the Keepers, you know the speak more of the language then they let on, so it should be easy to fill in the gaps in their knowledge. Their position and role in their societies should spread the knowledge further than you could alone. It would be the most direct and easiest option.

Another option is to simply create the demand for knowledge that will drive people to actually use the grammar book and dictionary you have created. Thingol had done something similar by banning Quenya in his court, but if you teach your staff the Ehlven language and have them use only that, it will then cause the traders to demand more Ehlven from their keepers, which will lead to demand for your work. It would require you to inform people that you have the dictionary and grammar book. It might also cause some friction with your staff if you are not careful, but it will create an 'organic' demand that the top down approach will not.

There is also the tempting option of translating your own book on the Dalish. It is an oblique option that seems like it would not help. To your mind though, it has the advantage of giving the Dalish a way to shift their extant culture into their new language. You could teach them all their language, but as long as it is easier to use their currently extant methods of communication that is what they will do. Giving them something that makes their transition as simple as possible will be useful, the only question is if it will be sufficient on its own. Which it might not be.

You will teach the Keepers, and also Merrill. There really is no other option. The Keepers are exactly that, the keepers of the Elvish lore. If there is anyone who should have their knowledge of the matter expanded, it should be them. They are also involved in the leading of clans and education of the future elves. More importantly than anything else, this is fundamentally their culture. If you are not going to directly educate elves, they are your next best option. You even have convenient ways of letting them know that you want to speak to them, since Merrill is visiting her teacher and Lanaya's clan is still sending merchants to Endataurëo.

Lanaya arrives first, not held up by whatever it is that Merrill and Marethari are getting up to, as well as just being closer. The two of you spend some time simply commiserating about the difficulty of living in the forest. When the other two arrive Lanaya is deep in a story of a hunter that had killed a spider only to end up trapped in its web until sunset.
"Well met Marethari. I hope the time since we last spoke has treated you well." You greet the woman who has clearly followed in her student's footsteps.
"I am rather well." The Dalish says, rubbing her eyes. "Simply readjusting. You are… a lot to take in."
"Ewwwww!" The two younger Dlaish chorus, Merrill in particular is looking almost betrayed.
"Get you minds out of the gutter." The older Keeper snaps at them. "He's covered in magic and it's painful to look at."

Eventually you manage to coral the elves into a room that you have prepared to act as a classroom. You have a large late propped up against a wall and some chalk that you borrowed from the tailor.
"I have come into a complete understanding of the Ehlven language due to the memories of a trapped spirit deep within these ruins." You are diverted from your lecture by the horrified looks your pupils give you. "I freed the spirit in exchange for its memories. You can all relax."
When they have done so you continue your explanation of your lesson plan. "Given that I do not believe for a second you would explain your complete knowledge of the language to me."
Marethari and Merrill have the grace to look guilty, but Lanaya just nods in agreement.
"Fortunately, pedagogical theory calls for questions to test comprehension. So, I am going to ask you questions that you will answer. If you do not know the answer, I will explain it. Any questions?"

There are none and you embark upon your stated course of action. At first the Keepers are hesitant to answer your questions, but as it becomes obvious that you already know the answers they quickly begin to answer promptly. An hour in the four of you have hit a stride of raising a topic, they explain what they know, and you fill in the missing information. As a result, you make great progress in a short time. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do in the time you have, and the Keepers are not yet fluent. They know far more than they did, but there is a certain ease to language that only comes with practise. Thus, you are forced to give the three Dalish work that they can do without you.

You are a firm believer in the power of songs to teach people. Though it would probably be more accurate to say you were halfway through preparing the songs you would teach them before you even realised that the people of this land would consider it a strange method of learning. As a child you had learned much in song form, to sing is to learn1 etcetera. You see no reason not to apply this to the homework you will be giving the Keepers. Even though you are a terrible bard, barely capable of writing your own music, you will give it your all to see it done.

To say that you were outside your area of expertise would be a criminal understatement. You may be able to sing without dying of embarrassment, but you do not play an instrument. Nor do you write songs, other than songs of power that do not truly count. You spend nearly an hour staring at a page trying to come up with a melody before you give up and decide to translate songs you already know. This runs into a suit of other problems, namely that the change in language often removes the lesson the song was supposed to teach. When you finally finish your first piece, a diction exercise that has been reworked extensively to work in elvish, you despair to realise you still need another four.

Merrill takes your homework in stride but the other two stare at you as though you have gone crazy.
"You want us to sing?" Marethari asks. "How exactly is that going to help us learn the language?"
"There are a number of benefits." You explain. "It can help expand vocabulary, and studying the song will give you a deeper insight into the grammar we have discussed today."
"What are these strange markings." Lanaya asks, squinting at the page you gave her.
"Musical notes." Merrill and you chorus.
"On that note," Merrill continues, "I can't read music, could you explain these to us."

It probably says a lot about your people that it had not even occurred to you that they might not be able to read music. Not recognising your script would have been understandable, but not knowing at all was not.
"I suppose I could perform the songs in question." You allowed. "Be warned though, they are not exactly works of high art, so do not complain about their quality."
You perform each piece in turn, announcing its title. The listeners are very kind about their rough nature.
"It's actually surprisingly catchy." Lanaya comments, tapping her desk to the tune. "It's really easy to remember."
Marethari just seems touched to hear new music in elvish. Merrill is furiously taking notes, only one in ten of which is on topic for this lesson.

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