Ranger has been downcast since the incident at the Dalish camp. You have given him space, remembering how you and your brothers had gotten after the Kinslayings. That ends today. The rain has let up and he still remains in his room. You stand by your belief that he is far less guilty than you, and if you have to get up and do things so does he. This train of thought is what has brought you to his door. You take a deep breath, prepare yourself for a fight, and knock on the door.

"Go away." You cannot help but feel as though you have been here before.
"No." You reply, knocking again.
"I swear kid, I will hurt ya." He growls through the door.
"Good, get out here and do so." You reply, knocking a third time.
The door flies open.
"What the hell is wrong with ya." Ranger all but roars at you.
"My friend has shut himself in his room and is refusing to leave it. You understand how that might cause some concern." You reply calmly.
The anger drains away from Ranger's frame. "Oh. Look, I appreciate what ya're tryin' to do but I'm fine. I jus' need some time."

"I have given you time, near a full week of it at this point. You are clearly wallowing in your grief and that is not healthy. I am told that confronting the problem can be helpful." You tell him, leaning against the door 'casually' to ensure you cannot be locked out again.
Ranger looks at you like a child trying to contribute to a conversation they do not understand. "Yeah. I heard the same thing. Look it ain't nothing ya can help with. I just need… I dunno. Gimme time kid."
You sigh. "I would like to believe you Ranger. Yet I can clearly see that time has not helped you much. Anyone will tell you that it does not matter how much time you give it, if you pick at a wound it will never heal."

Ranger slides down a wall to slump on the floor. "Fine. Let's get this over with then. What do ya recommend? What's ya magic cure for what I've done?"
You scoff. "There is none, what has been done can never be undone. What I can do is advise you on how to face the consequences."
Ranger's face twists into a gruesome parody of a grin. "Yeah? And what do ya suggest for that then?"

You have heard good things about talking about your feelings, that it can help to move past them. That has never been how your family does things, you have no idea if you would be able to do so. You also doubt that it will help Ranger. There is one thing that you think might help though.
"The best thing for this sort of thing is to confront the consequences of your actions." You say.
"What? Go back to the Dalish again? Sounds like a stupid plan." He snorts.
"Perhaps. We do not have to begin with the Dalish though." You reply.
"What're ya talkin' about?" Ranger peers at you, as though trying to read your thoughts.
"Did your transformation not impact your family as well?" You raise an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

"On second thought, let's go talk to the Dalish." Ranger says, voice laden with a complex mix of emotions.
"Very well, how many among the Dalish do we need to visit?" You are more than happy to let him decide where you go first.
"What're ya on about?" Ranger asks.
"Well we have already confronted one of your victims, and you apologised. Now we must meet the others, speak to them and put the ghosts of the past to rest." You explain to your friend.
"Well, I don't remember anyone from the Dalish but I reckon there were a few people I could talk to." Ranger says contemplatively.
"Excellent. Shall we go then?" You prompt.
Ranger looks up at you from where he sits. "What if it happens again? What if I spend all day being attacked by angry parents, siblings or children?"

You sink down until you are level with Ranger. "I would like to say that it will not happen, that people will understand. That would be a lie, so I will not. Instead, I will tell you that it does not matter what they say or do. What matters is that you face this yourself, that you make peace with your own conscience regardless of how that is done. If that is better served by something other than speaking to those you have wronged, tell me. I will see it done."
Ranger looks at you for a long moment. "I suppose they do have the right to know. Ya'll keep me safe yeah?"
You grin. "Should Morgoth himself strike at you, still will I strive to defend you."

You and Ranger ride along the forest's edge astride Orundómë. You do not have far to go, most who were in Ranger's range were those who lived close to the forest. From one village to another you seek for those Ranger thinks he might recognise. You ask after disappearances or encounters with wolves. Slowly you build a list and visit them each in turn. Ranger speaks to them, with words meant for none save the recipient to hear. It is only your desire to keep him safe that prevents you from leaving when they speak. Few try to strike at him, and those that do lack weapons. You feel like an uninvited guest at a funeral.

Finally, you reach the end of the list. Ranger seems tired, and you sympathise. You remember explaining to the sons of Ëarandil why they would never see their father again. It had left you feeling much as he does. You are riding for home, Orundómë as tireless as ever, when Ranger speaks.
"Do ya mind if we take a detour?" His voice is tired and hoarse.
"No, where are we going?" You reply.
"I'll guide ya. It's a cabin in the forest." Ranger tells you.
You ride in sombre silence, save for the occasional direction from Ranger. You end up adding an hour to your journey when you arrive at a log cabin. From the outside it seems undisturbed. Ranger slides off your horse and walks inside without a moment's hesitation.

You slide from Orundómë's back and walk towards the tree line. You want to be close enough to intervene should the worst come to pass, but you do not want to eavesdrop on what should be a private moment. You lean against a tree as Orundómë grazes nearby. You try to keep your focus on the house, and what may be happening within. You had given your word that you would protect Ranger and you have no intention of failing that self-imposed duty. Yet as the minutes drag on you find yourself slipping into your own thoughts. The ride, and the conversations you have witnessed on it, have left you with many heavy thoughts. Thoughts that refuse to simply let you focus on the moment. With a heavy sigh you instruct Orundómë to alert you if anyone comes near and turn your focus inward to address these thoughts.

Is atonement possible? Can someone ever do enough, or pay a high enough price, for the ill they have done? It is a thought you have had before, but you have always thrust it to the back of your awareness. Now you face it head on.
'Obviously.' you tell yourself, 'If it were not, there would be no such thing as justice.'
'And Kinslaying? What is the just judgement for that?' You are answered.
Your mouth dries and you think. You force yourself to imagine another brought before you, charged with Kinslaying. What is a just answer to his crimes?

You grandfather had once told you that true justice lay not in punishment, for that will 'make you an enemy, and confirm in the judged's mind that he was the victim.' Instead Finwë had always held that the purpose of the judge was to confront the wrongdoer with their evil and prevent them from repeating it again. To one who had slain many of his own kin the obvious first step would be to forbid them from bearing arms ever again. Your hand wraps around your sword's hilt reflexively. You cannot, there are too many things that wish you dead.

'The greatest tool of the judge, little Nelyo, is poetic irony. Let one who has done harm undo it by his own hand, whenever possible.'
"I will help you, my words hear thou Eru Ilúvatar." You had whispered.
"So long as you dwell in my lands you are under my protection." You had said.
"You died to make your actions right. Not everyone can say that." You envied Zathrien of that.
"A healer." You had told an injured elf.
"We will be escorting you to a safer place, one with water if nothing else." You had told the bandits.
"You saved my life." The Dalish had said.

In truth it seems you had already known the answer to your question. Since you had arrived in this land, you had reached out to help those around you. To build them up, not solely to aid yourself, but for their own sake. You had resolved to put the kinslayer behind you, and your actions had borne that out so far. Here you resolve again, this time will be different. You will not turn around and wield your blade in the name of yourself, your pride. You will defend those who claim your protection. You will be worthy of the Silmarils again.

You emerge from your thoughts to hear silence. Fearing the worst, you hurry to the door of the house and knock.
"Yeah?" Comes the tired, hoarse sound of Ranger's voice.
You do not sigh in relief, but it is a near thing. "Are you ready to go, or do you need more time?"
"Gimme another five minutes, kid. I jus'. I jus' need to do this one thing." Is the exhausted reply.
"Very well, I will be nearby. If you need me, call." You tell him.
You wait for the appointed time. Then Ranger emerges. His eyes are red and his face is tear stained.

"How are you feeling?" You ask gently.
Ranger gives you a look. "Pretty rubbish if I'm bein' honest."
You grimace. "My apologies. I thought it would help."
Ranger gives a long sigh. "Probably did. Jus' don't feel that way right now."
There is a moment of silence before he speaks again.
"I dunno how to do a proper funeral. Always Chantry folk in charge, I jus' did what they said. Do ya know anythin' about it?"
You shake your head. "I know nothing of the human customs for such things. Though I know the Dalish often say some kind of final message for the fallen."
Ranger nods a few times. "Right. I can do tha'."
He pauses, gathers himself and finally says. "Bye. I love ya."
The two of you mount Orundómë and ride back in a silence once more. It is the silence of ending rather than that of self-recrimination.

Emotionally drained from your conversation with Ranger, you decide to dedicate the next few days to your book. You review your notes on hat you have learned. There is definitely something there, the history and the way it is told speaking of deeply rooted us vs them mentality for example. In fact, you think that you can conclude from all the responses you have gathered, that there is a deeply rooted sense of something, Isolationism? Xenophobia? In the Dalish culture. You are also forced to confront the relative narrowness of your focus thus far. You know much of the Dalish's history and attitude to others, but what of their daily lives? Fortunately, you have an easy first step in this matter.

Merrill is reviewing her own notes when you find her.
"You want more help with your book? Well, your last question was fine so, probably?" She replies to your request.
"Do not worry, this has less to do with the knowledge of the Dalish and more to do with you." You say, "Now, how typical would you say you are of a First in a Dalish clan?"
Merrill is surprised by your question. "Ah. Well, I don't know? I mean I think I'm pretty normal, none of the Firsts I've spoken to do things I've never heard of."
You frown as you make a note of that. "I suppose you never allow outsiders at your little gathering?"
"The Arlathvhen? No, we wouldn't." Merrill replies

You had not expected anything different but you had hoped otherwise. It does not matter in the end.
"Tell me then, what does the Keeper's First do? And how has that changed since you left the clan?" You continue your interview.
"Well, it's mostly studying. We're all mages so there's that. Then there's all the stories and histories we need to memorise. We need to learn reading and writing, counting that sort of thing. As we get older we start to be trusted with jobs by our keepers, things to prepare us for leading. Truth be told my life hasn't changed that much, I'm just studying different things." Merrill tells you.

You dutifully write all this down. "Thank you, Merrill. Is there anything else about life in a Dalish clan you would like to share?"
Merrill shrugs. "I don't really know what is different from daily life anywhere."
You nod a few times. "Excellent, then I only have one other question for you. Do you know any songs?"
Merrill blink a few times at you. "Songs?"
"Yes, words put to music generally. Though I will also accept music without lyrics." You clarify.
"Why do you want to know songs? I guess some of them are about history but really they don't seem that important." Merrill tells you.
You give her a horrified look. "Music is a cornerstone of culture. A people without music are a people without a heart. Why would I not want to know it."

Merrill does agree to sing some songs for you. She sings the lullaby from your first lesson again, as well as a number of folk tales and nonsense ditties. You note them all down, writing out the tune to the best of your abilities.
"What are those markings?" Merrill asks.
"Words mostly." You say, not looking up from your work.
"Obviously, but I mean those ones there. They don't look like the rest." She says, pointing.
You glance briefly at what she's pointing at. "Musical notes. They're only a rough guess, I am not a bard."
"There is no way those are musical notes. What's this one meant to be?" Merrill insists.
You end up drawn into a tangent that takes up the rest of Merrill's free time. When she leaves for Xandar's lesson, you are left to decide where you are going next.

You are tempted to get an outside perspective on the Dalish. You have easy access to many who know them, and you will be in the area they are while doing other things this week. It would be efficient with your time but not much use. Without a firm grounding in the traditions, such a comparison would likely serve only to colour your later conclusions. With a heavy sigh you put aside the idea for later and instead resolve to talk to the people of the Dalish clans. It may take two days to do but it will be far more useful to your project than the other options.

You briefly visit your students to say farewell before mounting Orundómë and leaving. You ride first to Lanaya's clan where you will begin your survey. You will repeat everything you do here at the Sabrae clan later. You chose to start here to get a more natural reaction, the Dalish's willingness to talk to outsiders is an important part of their culture. You are far more welcomed by the Sabrae clan, and they will be more willing to talk to you. You make a brief stop to inform Lanaya of what you are doing, you do not want to be accused of spying.

"You want to do what?" Lanaya stares at you in open disbelief.
"I want to interview a random selection of your people to ascertain what practices are common among them." You repeat.
"What kind of inane waste of time… No, the more important question is why?" Lanaya's eyes narrows as she studies you.
"Well, as you may remember, I am writing a book on Dalish culture, traditions and song. Understanding the daily lives of the common folk is a vital part of that." You tell her.

"But why are you writing the book? It seems so out of character for you." She presses.
"Leaving aside that you do not know me as well as you seem to think. I am writing the book in equal parts to improve my language and out of a curiosity for Dalish culture. It is far easier to see the holes in one's knowledge when one has to write out a coherent summary of it. Should you not know this? Is the role of a Keeper's first largely studying?" You reply.
Lanaya stares at you for several long minutes, then says, "Right, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute. There's no law against talking to people, so knock yourself out."
You smile and thank her as you leave. It is time for learning.

When constructing your questions, you had assumed that you would get a similar reaction to them as you had to your questions last week. As a result, you had been forced to resort to a question that you hate to ask yourself. 'What would Kurvo do?' The question had provided an answer that left you feeling somehow tainted, as it usually does. You have couched your questions in an innocuous manner, asking after personal favourites and other seemingly innocuous questions.

"What is your favourite game to play?" You ask one of the weavers.
"I'm sorry?" She replies.
"Your favourite game, or the one you play the most." You repeat.
"I don't really have much time for games…" She trails off.
"What game did you enjoy the most as a child then?" You ask.
She looks up from her work. "Look if this is some kind of joke…"
"I assure you ma'am this is no joke. I am writing a book on the Dalish people, and I am looking for personal anecdotes to 'liven it up', so to speak." You tell her.
This is one of the more 'Kurvo' lines you have prepared. It flatters her and is not, technically, untrue. You do want personal anecdotes to both prove your point and maintain interest in the reader. That amassing data through these anecdotes is your primary goal is simply unmentioned.

"Oh, in that case I suppose I could share a few stories." The female elf says, her hands flying across her loom even without looking. "When I was a girl, me and Allyssa, that's her doing the washing by the stream, we used to play this game called…"
Her anecdote, much like the others you have collected, is meandering and does not focus on the game so much as the people around it and what they did while playing it. At this point you could probably make a relationship web for the entire clan, but it is all information.

"What were the rules of this game again?" You prompt.
The interesting part of this question is that even when talking about the same game you get slightly different answers every time.
"Do you perhaps have a favourite song?" You ask when she has finished listing off the rules, as far as she remembers them.
"I do, it's called Shiral Enansal. It's this wonderful little song my mother sung before we left camp." She says, smiling faintly.
"Would you sing it for me?" You ask.
"Oh no I couldn't." She blushes, shaking her head.
"Well if it would be inappropriate then I suppose there is nothing to be done. But I would love to hear you sing, I am certain you have a lovely voice." You will admit that you are stretching the truth on that last one.
"Oh well, if you insist." She says and begins to sing.

The song is a decent tune, and she is not a bad singer. You make notes of the lyrics and the tune. It is somewhere between a prayer and an aspirational tune, all about having a safe journey and asking the gods for guidance. You have heard it a few other times here and there, each time with only minor variation in the tune. It fits well with the Nomadic Dalish, who dedicate themselves to preserving a lost civilisation.
"Thank you, ma'am. You have been very helpful."

This scene repeats throughout Lanaya's clan. When you have gathered all the information you want, you leave for the Sabrae clan. You get many similar answers, but the warmer reception means you get far more detail.
"What's this I hear about you walking around asking pointless questions?" Marethari asks, looking amused.
"There is no such thing as a pointless question. Unless the question is asked in bad faith all questions are useful." You reply seriously.
"Oh and what incredibly useful questions are you asking?" Marethari responds.
If she wants to know. "What is your favourite game to play?"
Marethari ends up answering all your questions between howls of laughter. She even sings the entirety of the 'Ballad of Wobbly Jones' for you.