Wounded Wolf

You head straight from the kitchens to Ranger's room. Since you had been unable to visit last week, you are determined to have the first task you undertake this week be a meeting with your friend. The last thing you want is to give the impression that you do not care for the human.

When you reach the door, you begin the process of juggling the things in your arms so that you can knock on the door. It is only when you are looking at your right arm to shift things across that you remember that you have a right hand. Feeling somewhat foolish, you knock on the door with said, unencumbered, hand.

"Come in." Ranger says.

You push the door open and enter. "Greetings Ranger. My apologies for being unable to visit last week. I had a number of guests to see to unexpectedly."

"Don't worry about it." Ranger mutters. "Just put that down wherever."

You place Ranger's half of the meal on a side table in easy reach, then take a seat with your plate on your lap.

Ranger gives you a look. "Ya're eatin' too?"

"Of course." You reply. "It is a comfort to take meals in company, I would not think to deny it to you."

"Ya're a weird one." Ranger chuckles, shuffling up awkwardly from his bed.

"From my perspective it is everyone else who is 'weird'." You reply as he fetches his meal.

"Ya know, part of me wonders how much of what ya do is somethin' all yar people do, and how much is simply ya bein' weird and hidin' behind the fact that no one knows what the rest of ya are like." Ranger grumbles good naturedly.

Your smile slightly. "Do you accuse me of falsehood? Upon what grounds do you base such a slight?"

"Nice try, but I know ya well enough that I don't think you'd talk like that if ya were actually angry." Ranger retorts.

"You might be surprised." You say, dropping the faux offence. "I know more than a few Eldar who grow more garrulous in rage rather than less."

"Ya know what? I believe it." Ranger says. "Met my fair share of blusterers myself. But ya ain't one. Ya don't bluster, hell don't think I've ever seen you bluff."

After a short pause to search your memory, you realise he is correct. "I suppose we shall have to play Fintalë[1] sometime. Then you shall see me bluff."

Ranger's smile is melancholy. "Sounds fun, if ya got time."

"I shall make time." You state firmly.

"Grand." He replies.

Ranger is silent for a time. You choose not to press, using the opportunity to eat while you can, as he does the same.

Eventually he says, "'Spose I should thank ya for savin' my life."

"Such things are not accounted among friends." You reply reflexively.

Ranger blinks in confusion. "Gotta say, that wasn't what I was expectin' ya to say."

You force back the brief flash of embarrassment. "Strange as it may seem to you, I too owe my life to a friend. It would be churlish of me to hold you to account over such matters when I myself am not."

Ranger gives you a considering look. "Ya're right, it does seem strange. What on earth could get ya into the kind of trouble where ya needed to be rescued?"

"A great foe, and terrible treachery." You reply darkly. "I was captured under a flag of truce. I had known that it was a trap, yet I was not prepared for the sheer weight of forces the Foe brought against me."

"I hope ya knighted him at least." Ranger jokes. "For savin' yar life seems the least ya could do."

You stroke your chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it might be said that I elevated him after his rescue."

"Glad to hear it." Ranger says jovially.

Silence descends once more. This time you decide you will press forward with finding a topic to discuss.

"Tell me Ranger, how are you feeling?" You ask.

The human gives you a dry look. "Like I got mauled by a bear."

"I suppose my words were somewhat unclear." You agree in good humour. "Rather I meant, are you discomforted by being confined to your bed?"

Ranger flops back on the bed for a time.

"Yeah." He says eventually. "I am."

Now it is your turn to be silent, though not from a lack of things to say. Instead, you are running your eyes over Ranger, making some comparisons to your own people and how injured they would be in a similar situation. From there it is a matter of considering the probabilities of error and making a decision.

"Then let us get you on your feet." You say, standing up.

The human gives you a suspicious look. "As much as I like the sound of that, I don't want to injure myself any further than I already am."

"Then we shall not go far, merely a walk about the room. I shall support you, and if at any point you fear injury, I shall carry you back to bed." You reassure him.

"Ya even strong enough to carry me?" Ranger asks with narrowed eyes.

"I am strong enough to carry someone who has a foot of height on you and approximately equivalent muscle mass." You reply. "Further, I have already done so, do you not recall?"

Ranger's face flushes. "I was unconscious. Fine, let's do it."

You reach down and slowly, gingerly, help Ranger sit up. You pause at several points when he hisses in pain, asking if he wishes to stop. Each time he takes a few minutes and shakes his head. By the time he is standing, he is leaning heavily on you, arm about your shoulders.

Given the difference in your heights, you are almost walking on your knees and bent at the waist to boot. Still, that ultimately proves a boon, as Ranger is barely capable of more than a slow hobble. He does manage to reach one wall, but then asks to be carried back to his bed.

Once there, you examine the human to see if he has injured himself in the process, but the care you had taken has been sufficient to prevent any such complication. The risk seems to have been worth it, Ranger is not exactly happy, but there is some clear satisfaction from managing what he has.

"Thanks kid, I needed that." The human sighs. "It's frustratin' ya know? Bein' cooped up like this. Can't feel the wind, touch the ground. I only get to see the sun through a window. Folk ain't meant to live like this."

"It always used to frustrate me, how much help I needed." You agree quietly. "Things I'd always been able to do on my own, I needed a helper for. It hurt, strange as that sounds."

"Didn't come back from that rescue entirely intact either?" Ranger asks.

"Worse than you I suspect, though judging such things is an exercise in futility." You reply.

The human snorts lightly. "Sure. Totally not because ya don't think ya can prove it."

"It is more that I have no desire to turn this into a competition over who has suffered more. Such things are both unseemly and pointless." You explain.

Ranger laughs bitterly. "Yeah. Guess so."

You walk over to the window to see if it might open, unfortunately, it is built into the side of the building. You peer through the thick glass at the green and blue blur beyond. Ranger is right, this is no place to dwell solely.

"The healer lady already had a look at that." Ranger notes emotionlessly. "Said somethin' about needin' to clear out any miasma that could infect the wounds."

"I see." You say, frustrated at your helplessness. "Is there anything you need?"

"Nah." Ranger says, moving his head slightly from side to side. "If ya want to entertain me, ya could take a seat and tell me a story. Merrill reckons you've got some real fascinating tales to share."

You sit down in your chair once more. "I know a few tales, though I must warn you that most of them are sad."

"There's worse things than a sad tale." Ranger says.

A short moment passes in silent contemplation of tales you know.

"I suppose I could tell you of my capture by Morgoth, and the time I hung upon Thrangorodrim." You muse aloud.

"That the thing ya got rescued from?" Ranger asks.

"Yes." You reply, turning to look out the window.

"Alright. Sounds like fun." Ranger says.

You spends some time in silence, recalling the events in question. Ranger says nothing, though he might have given you a look. You do not know, your gaze was elsewhere, elsewhen.

"It was dark." The Light was gone, the sun and moon had not yet risen. "My father had died in our first battle against the great Enemy Morgoth when his messenger approached, claiming that he could see that he was beaten, that he wished to meet to discuss terms of surrender."

The creature had seemed fair to your eyes, for all that you knew the foulness that lay within. Like a handsome elf, with a burning gaze that seemed to pierce right through you as he spoke in that almost mesmerising voice. You had trusted neither him nor his master.

"We did not believe a word of it, of course. Morgoth had proven himself faithless, and we all knew that this was a trap." The argument had been thunderously loud, Moryo and Turko especially. "I decided that we would attempt to turn the trap against him. We would come upon the meeting place in force and slay the dark lord once and for all."

It had seemed so easy, obviously the mad Ainur would bring his crown and with it the Silmarils. In a single attack you would sweep aside his worthless warriors, fulfill your oath and avenge your father. So you had thought.

"Sounds like a risky move." Ranger observes. "Ya had no idea how many he'd bring, or even if he'd come himself."

The visions of the past scatter, and you once more sat in Endataurëo.

"You see more truly than I did." You agree. "Still, I was young, and victory sat like wine upon my tongue. Our battle beneath the stars had been costly, but far easier than we had feared. It seemed as though we were destined to succeed."

Of course, you had been rather the opposite.

"Ya still are young." Ranger says, eyebrow raised. "Ya wouldn't have been the first person to succumb to victory fever."

You laugh bitterly. "True, I believe that would be my father, who so outpaced our lines that he died before any of my brothers could reach him."

Interestingly, it had actually been Kurvo who reached him first, not you as most assume. You had not at that time been the most skilled of your brothers with the blade, you had still held out hope that the division of the Noldor might be healed with words.

"Right, so I assume things didn't go as ya planned?" Ranger prompts as you begin to drift once more into memory.

"Yes. Morgoth brought far more warriors than we had anticipated, and we were being overrun." You state. "I ordered the retreat and chose to command the rear-guard."

"Seems foolish." Ranger observes.

"It was my plan that failed, and thus my responsibility to salvage." You reply. "We were overrun, and I was captured."

"Ya know, I find that kinda hard to picture." Ranger says, frowning up at the ceiling. "Ya've got this aura like nothin' could harm ya."

An orc threw himself on your sword. A Balrog's whip coiled around your neck dragging your head down. You bellowed in rage and pain. You threw the orc off, grasping at the burning loops around your neck. Another Balrog smote your blade in two with his axe. You managed to slip the whip as a crush of orcs fell upon you, dying to your shattered blade even as they dragged you down.

"The might of Morgoth's forces is not to be underestimated. Orcs I could fell from dawn till dusk, but he has other, far more deadly servants." You summarise. "Those I had underestimated, still new to war as I was in those days."

A vestige of better days, slain by Morgoth much as those times had been.

"I was hung from a peak of Thrangorodrim, how long I cannot say." You continue. "For much of the time I could not see the sun, and even when I could, one day seemed much the same as another."

"Wait what? Ya 'hung'? How? Weren't ya in some kind of prison?" Ranger interrupts.

"That might have been more sensible." You say. "Yet, Morgoth has ever enjoyed the suffering of the Children. He had one of his servants create a single loop of iron, so strong it could not be broken by any art my people possess, and it was bent around my wrist and sealed. Then I was suspended from a chain upon the peak."

"Ok, I get ya've got to make the story a bit interestin', but that's a bit far don't ya think? How'd ya even survive something like that?" Ranger protests.

"I am far hardier than an atan. Though it was suffering as I had never known before, I survived, barely. I stood on the cusp of death, but never quite fell over." You state grimly. "Morgoth was ever a master of his craft, terrible though it was."

Your teeth chattered in the freezing wind. All wind was freezing this high. Your stomach had long since shrunk upon itself, despairing of being filled. Not even the snow reached you to quench your thirst, you were ever so slightly too low. You could see it, yet never reach it. Still, you endured. Tomorrow they would bring water, and food.

Tomorrow.

"Then, one night. I heard a song, one I had often delighted in before the war." You say quietly. "I thought I was hallucinating. They were not uncommon, on days before food was delivered. Still, so long had I lingered in isolation, that even that was comfort. When it stopped, I could do naught but continue it alone."

You choose to omit the grim conversation that had transpired before the Eagle's arrival. "Then, upon the back of a Great Eagle, who should appear upon the peak, but Fingon, son of Fingolfin, my friend of many years."

"YES!" Ranger yells, shooting up from the bed. "Arrgh, ow. That hurt, dammit."

After you help him lie down once more, he speaks again. "Wait, the band. Ya said it was forged around ya hand. How'd he get ya out of that?"

You stroke your wrist, hissing as phantom pain dances along it. "There was only one way."

Findekáno's blade flashed silver, a brief moment of pain and then you were free. Free. You didn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it until you landed by the shore of the lake, and were greeted by your brothers.

"My, is that the time?" You ask, seeing the sun out of the window. "Forgive me Ranger, I must be away. I have much to do in the coming week, I will visit again if I am able."

"'S fine." Ranger says, staring at your right hand. "Maybe ya can tell me about that Fingon fellow next time."

"Certainly." You reply. "I could speak on him for many days."

The Mind of the Forest

After your conversation with Ranger, you take some time to rest. You walk in the forest, enjoying the peace and serenity. You watch the farmers go about their daily tasks, listen to bird song. Generally, you take just a moment to simply enjoy the world as it stands, the hard won peace your heart has always longed for.

However, as the sun moves across the horizon your thoughts bend towards the tasks ahead. Your steps carry you deeper into the forest until the sounds and sights of Endataurëo fade away. There, in the depths of the forest proper, you take a seat beneath an ancient tree, and slip through the Veil and into the Beyond.

You arrive in a mirror of the forest you left, save that it is younger, with more scrub and fewer great trees. From where you sit, you can peer through the trunks to see the ruins that would become Endataurëo looking much more like a complete building.

"Feeling nostalgic?" You ask the air about you.

Silence is your only answer, not even the sounds of birds to disturb it. Extending your senses quickly shows that despite what you had assumed, there does not appear to be any spirits immediately about you. Feeling somewhat foolish, you climb to your feet and begin to search for the Lady.

It takes longer than you would like, and even then you have a sneaking suspicion that the Lady found you rather than the other way around. The spirit's appearance has developed since last you saw it.

Vines wrap around themselves in the rough shape of limbs and the face. Red flowers flow from the back of her head, expanding over the shoulders like a cape. Wood and bark serves to mimic clothing over the chest, though you suspect there is no vine beneath and the wood is solid right through.

"Greetings cousin. I am glad to see you well." The Lady says, tilting her head.

"I am grateful you have taken the time to speak with me, I see you managed to work out the mouth issue." You reply.

Green lips turn upwards in a smile. "A more suitable material proved necessary, faces are rather mobile."

You return her smile. "I am glad that you solved the issue to your satisfaction. I must apologise, due to poor command on my part many of the hounds you have sent me died fighting a tainted beast."

"Such is the nature of the forest." The Lady says emotionlessly. "Things are born, and they die."

Something about the way she speaks and the stillness she holds herself disturbs you, so to change the subject you say, "In the interests of not wasting either of our time, could you perhaps inform me how the protection of Brecilian proceeds?"

"I have not yet done anything to the forest." The spirit says neutrally. "As I told you, my ability to affect the physical world is extremely limited without mortal assistance. As you can see, I may have been able to nudge those hounds here and there, but I could not protect them."

"I apologise once more." You begin with a wince.

"It was not a condemnation, merely a comparison." The Lady says, again with no clear emotion.

You study her inhuman face, trying to discern what she might be thinking. "I suppose then, the question is why we have not seen darkspawn returning to the forest if you are not protecting it."

"Is winter not preceded by autumn?" The Lady asks.

It takes a few minutes to interpret what she is saying. "Are you suggesting that the number of darkspawn is contracting as they are drawn south to join the Blight?"

"Obviously." The spirit says.

You nod, it does make sense. Why try to hold an extended outpost when they needed all forces rallied for the upcoming war?

"Very well, then the only question is what kind of assistance you need in order to complete your protections?" You ask.

"Was this not your plan?" The Lady asks. "Should I not ask you that question?

"In truth, though it was indeed my idea, the mechanics are hardly my area of expertise." You reply thoughtfully. "If I recall, it was in fact Merrill who proposed a working that is compatible with your abilities."

"Is that the mage's name?" The lady asks neutrally.

"Yes, if you are willing to wait, I shall fetch her and bring her here to consult on how exactly we should make this happen." You inform the spirit.

"A moment Knowledge." The Lady says. "I have a question."

"I was hardly going to leave immediately after asking permission to do so." You reply humorously. "It would hardly be conducive to improving our relations."

The Lady does not respond to your joke. "I have no desire to return to the material world. I have spent more than enough time there, and the discomfort of that existence is something I do not wish to experience again."

"I remember," You say, "Do not fear, neither Merrill nor I have any desire to trap you once more, I assure you that we will do our uttermost to ensure that you can remain within your home and still assist us elsewhere."

The Lady nods gracefully and you depart to fetch Merrill.

"Yes, I remember that we're not supposed to bring her into the real world." She says after she arrives. "I don't exactly want her to turn into a demon, frankly it's a miracle she's not one already."

"Your words are not perhaps as comforting as you mean them to be." The Lady observes dryly.

Merrill blushes. "Sorry. I just meant, that you shouldn't worry."

"Let us not become distracted by minutiae." You interject. "Merrill, you had a plan for using the Lady's abilities in the physical world in a manner akin to the Girdle of Melian. What was it?"

"Well, I already explained it…" Merrill begins.

"Neither the Lady nor I understood what you were talking about, so it might be wise if you explain it again, but more simply this time." You say.

Merrill sighs. "Alright, so how much do you two know about enchantment?"

"Nothing." The Lady says.

"It involves that Lyrium substance that Ursular smuggles." You add.

"Right. Ok, um, this isn't going to work then." Merrill says abashedly. "I guess, what I'm planning on doing is sort of taking a little bit of the Lady's power and having it 'possess', for lack of a better term, Brecilian."

"I have repeatedly stated that I have no interest in being forced into the material world once more." The Lady says, caws crowing fiercely as she speaks.

"No, no, no, no!" Merrill exclaims. "It's not actually a possession. Basically, it's taking a tiny bit of your 'authority' and putting it into the forest. Most of the work will be done on my end, using mana and spellcraft to actually shape it into what it needs to be. It uses the instinctive mechanisms of possession but 'you' or more accurately your consciousness won't be involved at all."

"Could you demonstrate, to ease the concerns of our companion?" You ask.

Merrill fidgets with her staff. "Maybe, it'd have to be with another spirit, and even then I wouldn't be entirely comfortable with it. One of the reasons I think the idea will work is because she doesn't want to possess anything."

"That does put us at something of a disadvantage…" You trail off, thinking. "We could ask Swiftrunner to act as a guarantor."

The Lady and Merrill both turn to stare at you.

"Explain." The spirit commands.

"Well, Ranger knows where Swiftrunner is, and given that it was your power that transformed him into a werewolf in the first place, surely you could do it a second time. If he's willing to oversee the procedure, would you feel more comfortable?" You explain.

The Lady stares at you for a long time. You meet her gaze without concern, you have nothing to hide.

"Very well." The Lady states gravely.

"Great! I'll get started." Merrill says.

"Should you not wait for me to fetch Swiftrunner?" You point out.

Merrill waves her hand distractedly. "This isn't like casting a fireball, there's lots of setup."

"Can it be done without the Lady's cooperation?" You ask.

"Um, some of it?" Merrill says.

Thus follows a short discussion of what exactly Merrill is trying to do.

Merrill proposes something she calls the 'Purity of Essence'. Essentially this would make it so the forest rejects things that do not already exist within it, leading to the very terrain attempting to expel any invaders.

"Would this not apply to any new individuals we bring into the forest?" You ask.

Merrill begins to shake her head, only to stop in thought. "Uh, I don't really know. It would depend a lot on the specifics of the spell, I guess."

"Additionally, it is very difficult for a tree to distinguish between one human and another. They all look the same."

"Trees don't even have eyes." Merrill mutters sulkily.

"Would that not be an argument in support of the Lady's position?" You ask.

Merrill glares at you.

With a sigh, you change the subject. "What I think we are attempting to establish, is that this is a rather risky proposition. There are ways it could go wrong by being too imprecise with its wording, and also ways in which being too precise will cause equal difficulties."

"Well, yes, but that's kind of true of all defences. There's always got to be a balance between what you're willing to put up with and the safety they provide." Merrill argues.

"Perhaps, but I do not think I am convinced that the defences it offers will be worth the costs of having them." You explain your position.

"Alright, then let's hear your proposal for creating a comprehensive magical defence for a whole forest." Merrill says hotly.

"Firstly, there is no need to take that tone, I am hardly criticising you, merely offering a perspective on the work at hand." You chide the young elf. "As for the second, my intention was to recreate, as much as we are able, the Girdle of Melian."

Merrill pauses to take several deep breaths. Long familiar with anger, and given her inability to conceal her emotions at the best of times, you watch as it slowly drains away.

"I apologise. I know you mean no offence, though I maintain that you are being overly critical given how little you know of the subject at hand. Still, I should try and stay reasonable. So, what's the Girdle of Melian like?" She asks.

"I believe I already explained it to you, but to reiterate: The Girdle of Melian was a working by the Maiar Melian, it prevented those with ill intentions from entering the forest of her husband. It is why the kingdom is known as Doriath." You explain.

Merrill chews her lip. "I do remember that, yes, you were planning on having the Lady of the Forest serve as the decider of 'ill intent' because obviously most people can't read minds."

"At least not reliably." You agree.

Merrill gives you a cautious look. "That terrifying comment aside, the question is how does that Girdle thing work? I can't recreate something if I don't understand it."

"You know of no way to recreate the effect with magic alone?" You ask.

"Not without several months of exhaustive research." Merrill replies.

You wrack your memory for information on how the Girdle works. Thingol and his heirs obviously had no interest in sharing the details, so you have to attempt to derive an understanding from the operation of the Girdle and your understanding of the arts of the Ainur.

Unfortunately, you have never truly studied with a Vala. You have obviously spoken to them occasionally, and you were even on relatively friendly terms with a Maiar or two, but those were all social connections. Ironically, Turko would perhaps be the most likely to understand what Melian had done, thanks to his time with Oromë.

You spend several minutes trying to even think of how to explain the powers of the Ainur in a way that is not 'they are the Ainur and they do what they want'. You even resort to attempting something in a similar vein with your own arts, but it is useless.

"I must confess, that I do not understand the operation of the Girdle." You say at last. "I have no comprehension of the means by which the Ainur enforce their will on the world, and no practical experience that can serve in its place."

Needless to say, no progress on the mystical defence is made.

Buying and Selling

"Well, I guess this is it." Martin says.

"Yeah." Delora replies, chewing her lip.

For a moment awkward silence hangs between them.

"Best of luck with everything." Martin says with a wan smile.

"What, you think I can't handle things if you're not here to hold my hand?" Delora snaps.

"No, no, no." Martin hurries to say, waving his hands in front of him. "Just, it's a lot of work to be managing alone, and I hope nothing goes wrong."

"It's not like I can't handle myself." Delora says sullenly.

"Sure, but still…" Martin trails off uncertainly.

"Just get going." The elf says. "I'm more than capable of taking care of everything."

The human sighs. "Yeah, you're right. Still, thanks for this. I, well, I guess what I'm saying is thanks, I'm trusting you to take care of everything until I get back."

"Just go!" Delora yells, cheeks flaming.

Martin laughs and sets off through the gates of Endatuarëo, waving as he goes. Delora waves her hand once, then crosses her arms with a huff. She definitely wasn't worried about the stupid human at all.

Delora felt her heart racing as she departed from Endataurëo. It was stupid, really. She'd done this a hundred times, and nothing had gone wrong before. Yet, despite what she knew intellectually, she still felt as though she was preparing to throw down with an entire street gang on her own. Stupid brain not understanding anything.

At least Tellyrn was with her. Big and quiet's always a good combo when you're in Denerim, unnerves people. As long as no one ever finds out that he's just really shy then they're fine. She's got no idea why people forget that the big guy can probably strangle a bear when they find out he's shy, probably the same brain thing that's got her nervously monologuing to herself.

"You good to take care of your route on your own?" She asks, solely to be a good boss obviously.

Tellyrn nods.

"Great, well, if you're having any problems you can let me know." She says, "I'll give them a right earful."

The big elf smiles at her.

Delora nods once and settles back into her seat, feeling much more confident now.

Dammit, now she's thinking about it and her heart's speeding up again. She blames Martin for this.

Despite her worst fears nothing happens in Martin's absence. Almost nobody comments on his absence and those who do simply accept it when she tells them he's visiting family. That isn't to say that she has no problems whatsoever, but none of them are new.

Some people accuse her of stealing the badge that informs them she works for a lord, to which she simply invites them to visit Endataurëo and ask the boss about it. That's usually enough to make them back off, and when it isn't, it's usually pretty simple to take her business elsewhere. The wonders of having enough income and time to travel.

She just hopes no one actually checks with the boss. She might have used his badge for a few personal purchases. Even if she always made sure to pay with her own coin, she can see a noble getting uptight about that sort of thing.

Still, most people didn't care. The wine tended to get snapped up by nobles, and they didn't deal with her personally. The stewards were either too busy to care about her race, or not one of their customers. It was mostly when she had to buy things that it could be a problem, and at this point it was thankfully rare. People just seemed to be used to her.

[1] Lit. Trick, a card game based around deception, sometimes played with dice.