Alright, I have a request for the three or four people who actually review occasionally. I wasn't happy with parts of this so I've rewritten the ending of the scene with the Templar from the quest. I want to know what people think of it. Is it too sharp of a tone shift? How does it hold together more generally? For those who've also read my quest, do you think it's a better resolution?
If you are mad enough to want to answer the last question even though you don't read the quest head to A Varda Elentari under quests on Spacebattles and look at the the threadmark A Very Successful Week in the section 'The Dark Haired Mage'.
The Dark Haired Mage
Lilian glanced behind her as a howl echoes through the woods. The Templars weren't far behind her, and it sounded like they'd broken out the dogs.
"Dammit, I thought we'd have more time." Brandon curses.
"I hope the elf's alright." Lilian says quietly.
"He wouldn't want you to stop now." Brandon says kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If the worst has happened, he'd want us to make the best use of his sacrifice."
"Yes. You're right." Lilian breathes deeply. "If the elf was telling the truth, we're nearly there."
The two humans ran, faster now, towards the promise of safety.
Lilian breathed deeply of the air. She'd finished her harrowing and as a result the Templars watched her less closely these days. Even though she didn't remember the accident that had caused her to be taken to the Circle, she'd always had the threat of Tranquillity hovering over her.
Now she was free of it, and even though Iriving had refused to let her out of the circle, she was more than capable of sneaking out. She'd have managed it years ago if it weren't for the fact that a Templar followed her everywhere she went.
The woods were beautiful in the moonlight, it cast the white flowers into stark relief against the ground. They looked almost like little clouds clinging to the ground. Lilian giggled to herself and set about making a flower crown. She had vague memories of seeing these in her village when she was young girl and was determined to have one of her own.
Of course, her joy quickly became frustration. She has no idea what she's doing, and she keeps getting a few knitted together before she realises that she can't keep going. Perhaps it's the tiredness of being up so late, or just frustration at failing at the task, but she ends up yelling quite loudly.
Her heart in her mouth, she freezes, ears straining. She half expects a Templar to come crashing through the underbrush, irrational as that may be. When the sounds of something moving through the forest reaches her, she bolts to her feet, trying to decide where to run.
From the underbrush came a man, clad in simple clothes with thick dark hair and beard. He came into the clearing and froze. Lilian stood still for a moment, then bolted for the woods.
She'd just made it into the cover of the trees when she heard a voice call after her.
"Wait!"
She paused, glancing behind her. The man wasn't chasing her, and he had her barely started crown in his hand.
"Were you trying to make a flower crown?" He asked, sounding strangely desperate. "I can help. I used to make them for my sisters."
Lilian hesitated, she thought it might be a trick, but he wasn't dressed or acting like a Templar, so she might be safe. Unable to decide, she just watched as he slowly began to weave the flowers into a crown.
Eventually she mustered up the courage to slowly approach. The man held out the now finished crown. Tentatively Lilian placed it on her head.
"Beautiful." The man breathed.
"What?" Lilian asked, blushing.
"I mean, uh, I'm Brandon. Might I know your name spirit?" He asked, also blushing.
"I'm not a spirit. I'm a human." She muttered.
"You are? I mean, sorry yes. I just thought that someone as beautiful as you surely must be something otherworldly." Brandon said, with a nervous smile.
Lilian glanced away, blushing more intensely.
"You're lucky you're good at making flower crowns." She grumbled softly.
Finally, the road comes to an end at a cream coloured wall, dotted with towers. A hall of some kind can just be seen over the top of the wall, its green roof blending into the forest canopy. Warriors call out a challenge as they approach.
"I'm Lilian, a mage! I am here to request asylum from the one who rules these lands!" The mage calls back.
There's a heart stopping moment as the warriors discuss the matter among themselves. Fortunately, the gates are opened and they are shown into the hall. They are led into a room festooned with red banners with a throne placed at the far end.
Lilian and Brandon are not left waiting long before a tall elf with red hair and cloak sweeps into the room to hear their plea. Lilian looked upon him and gasped. The figure before her, though different of hair and clothing, bore a striking resemblance to the elf who'd helped her escape the circle.
You enter the room and see the two humans who wish to meet with you. The mage is pretty much what you expect, human, dark haired, wearing those robes the Circle is fond of. The man reminds you of Ranger if he was several decades younger. Dark hair, beard, bright eyes and drab clothing.
When he notices you, the man goes to bow, then pauses and makes as though to kneel. Generally, he gives off the impression of someone trying to be respectful but having no idea how. In contrast, the woman is staring at you like she recognises you.
"You seem disturbed, young mage." You prompt her. "What troubles you?"
It seems a nice neutral comment that could lead into her request or to her revealing why she is staring at you. Either would be good.
"Oh, sorry. You just kind of look like the elf that helped us is all." She replies.
The words of the man fade into non-existence as your entire attention focuses on the girl. "An elf like me? Who? Where? When?"
The mage flinches backwards, raising her hand defensively. "I don't know, he didn't introduce himself, he stayed behind to throw the Templars off. It must have been a week ago now. Please, don't hurt me."
"What did he look like? Describe him! What colour was his cloak?" You press, determined to have your answer.
Suddenly, the man interposes himself between you and the mage. "My lord, forgive us. We are but humble peasants and we don't know the answers to your questions. Please, if you don't want to help us, we'll leave. Please!"
Suddenly you realise that you have allowed your usual control to slip, and your power fills the room, not quite manifested yet but present in a way that is hard to describe. Physically, you are looming over the pair, hands extended aggressively.
With an effort of will you reign yourself in with a deep breath.
"Forgive me." You say, inclining your head deeply. "I had not thought to hear of another Elda in this land, and I overreacted. Please, what brings you to my halls?"
The two look at each other. You can see the fear in their faces, the question of if they are safe, especially since you have made such a poor first impression. Then the howl of a bloodhound cuts through the air and you can practically see them asking themselves if they have another option.
"Well, your lordship, we, I…" The man starts, only to trail off.
With a glint of determination in her eyes, the mage steps forward and says, "My name is Lilian, this is Brandon. We ask asylum. We heard of the mage you took under your protection, and we'd like the same deal. I am a fully trained circle mage who has passed her harrowing, if you agree I am willing to offer my services as a mage."
"Very well." You reply absently.
"Furthermore… Sorry, what was that?" The woman asks.
"I grant you asylum, at least for a time. All are welcome within Endataurëo, though I may hold you to account if it turns out your pursuers have just cause." You explain.
Well, Morgoth is not welcome, obviously. Balrogs too. And you would give serious thought to making Thingol wait outside for hours, Arafinwë too now that you think of it. Other than that, all are welcome.
"Just cause my lord?" Brandon asks.
"If you are murderers or thieves attempting to evade the law then I will absolutely hold you to account." You reply. "I will not allow my mercy to be wielded as a weapon by the wicked."
The two look uncertain, which is understandable. After all, leaving the circle is against the law as you understand that. Fortunately, you well understand the difference between what is legal and what is just, and as long as it would not be unjust to aid them, they have nothing to fear.
"Now, I believe there should be rooms available, Karla will be able to show you the way. Just go out the main door, go left and through the main hall into the kitchen. Do try not to interrupt her while she is in the midst of her work, wait for a break." You instruct the pair.
Lilian glances at Brandon, then grips his hand firmly as defiantly says, "We want a shared room."
You raise a single eyebrow. "As you wish, more are available if you change your mind."
The two are clearly thrown by your response, but frankly you have no interest in human mating rituals, and merely want to be left out of it. At this point, you are almost grateful when the warrior who brought you here in the first place returns.
"Sir. Templars are at the gate demanding entry." He says, saluting.
"Of course they are." You sigh. "Very well, show them in, you two, stay here, it will be simplest if this is done all at once."
As you wait for the Templar to arrive, you consider your approach.
The Templars come in force. Ten of the heavily armoured warriors accompanied by twice that number of fierce hounds. Their weapons are sheathed for now, but they are close to hand, and their heads turn to keep all in view.
Considering the fact that they are outnumbered two to one in the heart of your stronghold, you are willing to forgive their caution.
"Gentlemen. Welcome to Endataurëo. What can I do for the Templar order today?" You greet them with all the cheer you can muster.
"Don't try to trick us elf!" One of the helmeted men barks at you. "Hand over that mage and maybe we'll be merciful."
You can see in the body language of the one who stands at the fore of these men that he knows the opportunity the fool has just granted you.
"Oh? So the Chantry has chosen to go back on its ruling and forcefully claim Xandar?" You ask dangerously. "How… unexpected."
"Not at all." The leader says, removing her helmet. "Xandar remains under your authority, as agreed. However, another mage was seen fleeing in this direction, and we believe she has taken refuge here."
Lilian stiffens as the woman's green eyes land on her with a fierce glare.
"I see." You smile warmly. "In that case, I shall forget the matter entirely. This mage you are looking for, I assume you mean Lilian here."
"Correct." The red haired woman nods, turning towards her. "We'll just take her and get out of your hair."
The mage's face flashes with betrayal, and you can see her thoughts racing until you speak.
"I am afraid I cannot allow that." You reply coolly. "You see, I happen to have agreed to oversee her in much the same way as I do Xandar. Therefore, there is no need for her to go anywhere."
"See! He admits it!" The man from before cries. "Let us seize him!"
"Jenkins! If you do not shut up, Maker help me I will have you on a fast for the next two months!" The leader snaps.
"Knight Captain…" This 'Jenkins' begins to whine.
"Silence! That is a direct order!" The Knight Captain snaps.
With her subordinates quelled, the woman turns back to you. "Unfortunately, the agreement extended to Xandar alone, as such it cannot be extended to other mages. We have to return her to the Circle."
"It is true that Lilian was not covered by the original ruling, but you cannot deny the precedent exists." You point out. "If I was granted permission once, I can be granted such again."
The Knight Captain shakes her head. "That's beyond my authority to decide. I merely collect the escaped mages."
"How strange, given that the verdict was given by a Knight Lieutenant who, unless I do not understand human offices, you outrank." You note calmly.
"Knight Lieutenant Sandra was acting in loco for Knight Commander Greagoire who had to excuse himself for personal reasons." The Knight Captain answers just as calmly.
You grin, utilising knowledge gained from your conversation with Knight Corporal Aten to continue. "You are a Knight Captain, does that not mean that you are his second in command? That you are able to make such judgements in his place?"
"As I recall, there was a whole panel that made the decision to allow the apostate to remain beyond the influence of the Circle." The Knight Captain replies flatly.
"For a first time decision? With the accompanying inquiry into Merrill's and my teaching ability? Absolutely. However, that decision has already been made. Now it is merely a matter of extending the matter to another individual, surely your authority is sufficient for that?" You argue.
"Whether or not it is has no bearing on this argument. If you wish to organise a similar hearing, you are free to try, however the escaped mage must return with me." The Knight Captain states.
"Returned to be made tranquil, thereby rendering the hearing moot?" You ask pointedly.
"Harrowed mages cannot be made tranquil." Both the Knight Captain and Lilian chorus.
"Killed 'escaping' then." You continue without pause.
"She broke the rules, she knew the punishment!" Jenkins cries.
The glare the Knight Captain gives him deserves to be studied for replication.
"We are not here to kill anyone." She stresses. "The mage is guilty only of breaking out of the Circle, and is wanted for questioning regarding the strange elf that helped her do so besides."
"Yet you cannot deny that she is likely to be as concerned as I am regarding the possibility, nor can you guarantee that all within your party share your intentions." You observe, hiding your glee. "However, if she remains here then she feels safe, you know where she is and can question her as much as you wish. Or, you could take her back with you where she will suffer a 'tragic accident' at the hands of an unruly subordinate."
The Knight-Captain places her hand over her heart and bows her head. "I swear to you, in sight of the Maker and on the name of house Shepard, she will be safe while she travels with us."
All your humour at the situation vanishes.
"You would not be the first human to swear a false oath to House Fëanáro." You reply.
"Those humans were not me." Knight-Captain 'Shepard' proclaims.
"I do not know you, Knight-Captain." You answer coldly. "I know only the reputation of your order and the words of your subordinates."
You lean forward, left hand moving to rest on your right hip. "I do not believe this woman would survive in your company."
There is a shuffling and a scraping as the warriors who escorted the Templar reach for their own weapons. The tension in the room rachets up, and Jenkins actually begins to draw his sword, only stopped by Knight-Captain Shepards hand on his arm.
Knight-Captain Shepard looks helplessly around. "Is there no assurance I can give you? Nothing that can be said to persuade you?"
"No." You reply flatly.
The red haired woman's fist clenches and her head falls forward. "I will permit the mage to remain here for now. There may be a summons later, and there will be frequent inspections. If she is not here when we come, we will pursue both of you as apostates."
"Of course, Knight Captain. You know where to find me." You reply, allowing just a hint of victory to colour your voice.
Several weeks later, you receive a letter confirming the Knight Captain's decision.
Ranging with Ranger
The forest is beautiful. Ranger isn't just saying, or thinking rather, that because it has been a month since he'd been outside. That is part of it, obviously, but it is more that the time away had given him distance to appreciate the changes the once foreboding trees had undergone.
In his memory the forest was a heavy place, the malice of something otherworldly lying like thick mist. The trees had been filled with shadow and webs and occasionally were straight up possessed. Now there is birdsong and bright light revealing bright colours on the bushes and the grass.
They had always been there, yet it is only now that Ranger really noticed. The forest seems brighter, and the roads that cut through it no longer seem like the only clean thing in a sea of dirt. Only partly because they are heavily used and covered in dust.
"Ranger? Sir? Are you ok?" Anneth asks.
Ranger drags his attention away from his thoughts and to his companions. He had agreed to accompany the 'rangers' the kid had him train a while back. They were all panicking after the near misses last week and he was happy to help them secure the forest as best he could.
Better than lying in bed feeling sorry for himself, at least.
"Fine girl. Just marvelin' at how the forest's changed." He says.
He definitely hadn't been trying to take his mind off the fact that, as the only one on foot, he was obviously slowing down the mounted party,
"I see." The girl says, looking about her slowly.
Ranger see a smile spread across her face.
"It really has changed, hasn't it." She says, quietly proud.
The old man wishes he knew how the kid did that. The way he made everyone feel like part of something bigger, yet still like everything they did was of vital importance. Hell, it even worked on him.
"Yeah, still, we should get to work." He grunts, unwilling to spiral into maudlin thought once more.
The girl straightens up, humanity vanishing under that mask of professionalism she tries to wear. "Of course."
Frankly, Ranger thinks that he needs to hurry up and get that dog he's been thinking about. His eyes really aren't what they used to be, and he spends a lot of time listening to the 'rangers' (who better not have been named after him, he swears) describe things to him.
It feels like he's missing something, that if his eyes were as keen as they had been he might find something they are overlooking, some angle that isn't there.
His experience suggests otherwise.
The big problem they have is that ultimately, they're already well prepared. Any security measure is always in tension with the fact that people need to use stuff. The weakest point of any wall is the gate, but a wall without one is useless.
The kid did everything right. His settlements have guards, and walls and the roads mean that the 'rangers' can get pretty much anywhere in the forest inside an hour or two, or at lest the parts that matter.
The problem is that the Dalish are welcome to travel along the roads, that the gates are open to them. They can't even effectively bar the way for the threats thanks to the fact that nobody can tell the difference between the Dalish that hate them and Merrill's lot.
For now, Ranger settles for mapping the trails that might let a group of people move off road. They're animal trails mostly, which means they're at risk of wandering, or new ones springing up, but it's better than having no ideas.
"What do you think, sir?" Anneth asks. "I don't know what to do."
Ranger holds back a sigh, feeling his age. It reminds him of the days when he was teaching young hunters for the local lord. You don't show when you don't have ideas, you always act like you know what's going on even when you don't have a clue.
"Right. I guess all we can do is make ya as good at spottin' things as we can."
"Yes sir!" The rangers chorus together.
"Well, I guess ya don't lack for enthusiasm." Ranger notes wryly.
"How're we going to do this?" Anneth asks. "We've got our duties to complete after all."
Ranger squints at the sun, and mulls the question over in his head. "I reckon ya should get ya work done, and we'll do the teachin' in the evenin'. It ain't like most of the people ya are lookin' out for are gonna wait until it's nice and bright to try and sneak past you."
The warriors sigh, roll their eyes and generally signal that this is a decidedly suboptimal outcome from their perspective. The old hunter notes that none of them protest or try to argue against it though. He'll give them this much, they're a lot more focused on their jobs than most of the men at arms he's known.
Must be the kid's magic again[1].
The patrol Ranger follows is a very boring affair, especially compared to his own trips into the forest. Since they stick to the roads, there's almost nothing to see. Ranger notes this down mentally.
Eventually, evening comes, and instead of making camp and preparing dinner, the tired warriors gather in a loose circle around the old hunter.
"Alright, so I know ya all are tired and hungry, so here's the first thing we're all goin' to do. Ya all know how to hunt?" He asks the assembled group.
When the rangers nod, a few of them glancing at each other in confusion, he continues, "Well, that's ya task for the evenin', catch ya dinner."
There's a moment of hesitation as the group waits for some signal or indication they should begin.
Ranger rolls his eyes and says, "Any day now."
Shortly thereafter he is alone in the small clearing.
It takes some time for them to return. A few return with a rabbit or two and Ranger skins and cooks the animals on their behalf, since he is making them hunt quite late. Most people return shortly after it grows truly dark empty handed.
As Ranger shares what was caught he asks, "So, what did ya all notice about the game available?"
There's several long minutes of silence. Ranger waits patiently, until finally someone speaks.
"Nothing? I mean, I didn't catch anything."
Ranger nods, smiling genially at the woman who spoke. "Yeah? Why not?"
The woman looks confused, so he clarifies, "Why didn't ya catch anything?"
"Oh. I just didn't see anything." The ranger replies, clearly not understanding his point.
"Exactly." Ranger says cheerfully. "Ya got to understand, rabbits actually prefer comin' out when it's eve or morn, ya probably would have seen more than usual. 'Cept ya eyes aren't good at darkness, and they probably heard you comin' long before you could have seen them."
He can see a few of the brighter sparks widening their eyes in understanding, but most still don't get it. "So when ya are tryin' to hunt something in poor light, ya've got to know how they think."
There's a reason rabbits are normally caught in snares rather than shot.
"What about Nelyafinwë?" One of the other rangers asks. "He seems to have no problems in the evening."
"Yeah, and his eyes glow in the dark and he can hear a conversation clear across a room. I think his senses are a might be magic." Ranger replies, to nervous laughter.
The old hunter smiles to himself. Now that he's not trying to lead people about, it seems he's pretty decent at this teaching thing.
Dammit, that means the kid was right. He's going to be so insufferably smug.
The lessons continue to go well. Ranger had always thought of teachers like the tutors he saw the noblemen had. Lots of lecturing about theory, but he's finding it strangely satisfying to come up with lessons and plans for the rangers.
He teaches them tracking and fieldcraft, not by sitting down and explaining it, but through demonstration and practice. It's a lot of work, and he finds himself sitting down and thinking about the lessons long before he actually has to deliver them.
His next big break comes when he starts structuring the lessons further, finding specific entry points for the rangers to access the lesson and finding opportunities during the day for them to show him what they've learned.
The more time he spends with them, the more he gets to know them. He learns their names, Anneth he already knew, but he also learns of Simion and Stewart, Carrie and Erskine and all the others. He learns their names, what they're good at and what they're bad at. Slowly they start to warm up to him in turn, laughing at his terrible jokes and bragging about their accomplishments.
There is a distance between them despite that. He is their teacher, not their friend, and sometimes he has to make them do things they don't want to or just tell them they have done a bad job, but there is still a warmth and connection that Ranger hadn't realised he missed.
That connection helps him build better lessons, as he learns what they're good at and what they're bad at he can hone in on specific skills. For example, they are quite good at observing their surroundings and navigating the forest, but they are not quite so good at interpreting tracks and trails.
So Ranger begins to spend the day looking for, or outright making trails and tracks of significant age. Then he will call a halt before the sun goes down and lead them along, helping them interpret what they're seeing.
"Put down the pen girlie." He tells Anneth during one of the lessons.
"I'm just taking notes, sir. I'm paying attention." She protests.
"Ain't sayin' ya aint." He replies seriously. "But I don't want ya takin' notes. If ya write somethin' down, then ya're more likely to forget it, 'cause ya know ya can check it later. Thing is, ya ain't goin' to have time to consult a book if ya're trakin' somethin'."
There's some grumbling, but the rangers obey. It's strange how easily they do so too. He'd assumed he'd be facing pushback when he started to give orders. After all, he was some nobody from the back woods, while they were hand picked men at arms. He'd probably have been told to take a hike by most groups.
Probably the kid's influence again. Whatever, as long as it works.
Still, there's only so much time in a week. He does everything he can to make sure that their bases are covered, but still they are not his equals. It's frustrating, but he comforts himself by remembering he can return later. Maybe, if he has time. It's hard with how much work they have, and he could tell he was slowing them down.
"You going to be riding with us again next week?" Carries asks.
"Don't think so, girlie." He says gruffly. "Can't let ya slack off every week."
"That's a shame." She says, sounding genuinely sad. "It was fun."
"Yeah. You're a great teacher sir Ranger!" Exclaims Simion.
Ranger coughs into his beard. "It's just Ranger ya snotlin'."
The rangers laugh and file past into Endataurëo. Nelyafinwë stands at the door with a knowing look.
"Shut ya face ya smug git." Ranger grumbles walking inside.
"I said nothing." The tall elf replies, stopping the human at the door. "Ranger."
"What?" The human sighs, feeling exhausted.
Nelyafinwë smiles. "I am glad you have found a new calling."
"Yeah, well." Ranger says scratching at his beard. "Teachin's not so bad I guess."
[1] Notably, in this case Ranger is wrong. He simply hasn't realised that the rangers enjoy a position of relative 'elite' status, and it comes with a certain esprit de corps that encourages them to undertake any challenge without complaint.