When the group has reached the Brecilian forest Merrill splits off from the others. While she does not begrudge the need to defend Xandar at the inquiry, she has something she has wanted to do for nearly a full week now. Riding Dal'banal'ras through the trees is a slow process, and it takes all her control to not urge him into a gallop. In truth she's been finding it harder and harder to control herself over the week. When that chantry woman had demanded Xandar been made tranquil, she'd been on the verge of attacking her. Again, when her teacher had been imprisoned, she had been torn between murderous rage and crushing despair. She puts it out of her mind for now, she has joyous news to share with her clan.

Her clan was a welcome sight, an immense smile and a wave of ecstatic joy swept over her as she approaches. The guards spot her before she sees them, and they greet her cheerfully. Her heart swells as her clan, her family, welcome her back. Though she is not universally beloved, something of the opposite actually, it feels as though everyone is happy to see her and eager to hear what she's been up to. She manages to fend off the questions and head towards the centre of the camp. There Marethari stood, looking the same as when Merrill had last seen her. Tears filled the young Dalish's eyes against her will.
"Welcome back Merrill." Marethari began cheerfully, but her tone switched quickly to concern. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"
Merrill shook her head. "Sorry, I'm fine. It's good to see you."

The Keeper and her First embraced, glad to be reunited. They spoke of inconsequential things and their feelings. It had been some months since each had seen the other and they had much to catch up on. They spoke over tea and caught the other up, this conversation led naturally to the topic that Merrill had come to speak of.
"I'm worried you're not going to believe me when I tell you this." She confessed to her first teacher. "It's going to sound really arrogant and given what happened with Zathrien I wouldn't blame you for not believing me. I discovered a way to get back out immortality."
Marethari placed her cup down on the table. "You are correct, I do find that hard to believe. But I trust you enough to accept that you believe it if nothing else. Can you provide any proof?"

Merrill felt a wave of defensive anger and shame weep over her but fought it back. "I can't really prove the immortal thing, but I can sort of prove that I've done something."
"Sort of?" Marethari asked.
Merrill's blush intensified, and her anger roared. "Well, my magic has changed and I can't sleep anymore. I can also 'see' a bunch of things that I couldn't before. But the best way to prove what needs to be done is to show you how I did it."
Marethari raised an eyebrow and waited. Merrill hurried to explain the process she had used to retrieve whatever it was from the Beyond.

Marethari listened in silence. Her gaze on Merrill made the young Dalish shift nervously in her seat. She feels as though she is a child presenting work, she knows is substandard to her teacher. She is surprised when a pair of arms wrap around her, and she realises her teacher is now embracing her.
"Oh my poor student." The Keeper murmurs. "What an ordeal you have been through."
Merrill is paralysed by conflicting emotions, pulled in so many directions at once that she cannot choose a path to take forward. Eventually the hug ends and Merrill is able to rally her thoughts.
"Its fine, really!" She protests. "It paid off, I reclaimed our heritage and we don't have to be human anymore!"

"Merrill, we aren't human. Have you forgotten?" Marethari asks, clearly concerned.
"I know that, but think about it. How are we different?" Merrill gives her teacher some time to think before continuing. "We have pointed ears and that's about it. Everything else is cultural. Compare that with Nelyafinwë's people, there's tonnes of differences. They think differently, they value different things and it's really weird to watch sometimes. Did you know he can read minds? He never mentioned it until last week. It just wasn't important to him at all."

"Merrill. The point please." Marethari said, something Merrill could not identify in her tone.
"What I mean to say is that there's more to being an elf than just being descended from them. Since I came back so much has changed. I see more, I feel more. There's so much I can point to and say that is different from a human. I couldn't do that before. If a little pain was all it took to get there, it was well worth the price!" Merrill exclaims, springing to her feet in excitement.
Marethari falls silent for a long time. Merrill fidgets, her enthusiasm quickly replaced by nervousness as she sits down.

After many long minutes of contemplation, the Keeper speaks. "I cannot say that I believe you. Yet I do not think that you are insane or lying. Therefore, there is only one option."
Merrill shifts in place, waiting for her Keeper to deliver judgement. When none comes she asks. "And that option is?"
Her teacher looks at her, mischief glimmering in her eyes. "Why don't you tell me?"
"What? I can't decide!" Merrill yelps.
"No. but one day you will be Keeper. You should be able to tell me what you'd do." Marethari replies, her tone equal parts lecturing and teasing.
"I'd do what I've already done!" Merrill almost yells. "I'd have tried even if I was the Keeper!"
"Exactly!" Marethari chirps to her student's dismay.

Despite the keeper's seemingly cavalier view of the danger the process, she took careful note of what her student said. Merrill ran through the exercises she used with her teacher, mostly to help the keeper practice them. Marethari had taught Merrill most of them in the first place, it was simply a long time since she had used them herself. That night, Marethari went to sleep while Merrill abused her newfound ability to go without sleep to keep a nervous watch over the woman who had raised her. For an hour the Keeper is still and silent, asleep as far as her pacing student can tell. After that time the older woman began to toss and turn, occasional yelps and groans of pain disturbing Merrill, who hovered nervously over her teacher wringing her hands.

For nearly half an hour the unconscious Dalish struggled with the Veil, then she awoke. Covered in sweat and massaging away phantom pains, Marethari nearly headbutted Merrill when sitting up. When she met her student's eyes, which apparently glowed slightly in the dark, Marethari smiled sadly.
"It didn't work, did it?" Merrill asked despondently.
Marethari's response was a mixture of a cough and a laugh. "You could tell? No, I got in there and I remember finding something. But it was too much, I'd never felt anything quite like that."
Merrill slumped. "So that's it then?"
The elderly Keeper scoffed. "Hardly. What that infernal barrier has not realises is that I have not yet begun to fight."
Her eyes glinted with the stubbornness that her student was well known for.

"That, however, is a matter for another day." The keeper said, slumping over her age now apparent. "For now, I think I will rest. Perhaps tomorrow I will make another attempt, or tonight even."
Merrill wanted to believe in her teacher, but she found that she couldn't. She was no child to think that those she cared for were invincible. Even Nelyafinwë, for all he seemed like nothing could harm him, was vulnerable. She had learned the hard way, not even she was safe from danger.
"I'm sure you'll manage." She told her teacher, though her voice failed to carry the certainty she had hoped for.
"Thank you Merrill." Marethari smiled, seemingly grateful despite Merrill's lack of conviction. "But enough of this unpleasantness. It has been months; we should catch up. How have your studies with Nelyafinwë been going?"

Merrill was surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. "Wait a minute, we can't just move past this. I remember the first time I tried, and it was really bad, if you need to talk about it…"
The keeper waved her off. "Goodness, you've gotten disobedient. I'm fine Merrill. What I want is to talk about something else. For example, what my First has learned in her time apart from the clan."
"If you're sure." Merrill replied uncertainly. "Well, I've learned a lot actually. It's kind of hard to put it all into words. The magic of the Eldar is like nothing I've ever seen before."

"The Eldar are what Nelyafinwë is right?" Marethari asked.
Merrill nods. "Didn't he tell you about them?"
Marethari shrugged. "My memory isn't what it used to be, thought I'd check that I was understanding correctly. You were talking about their magic."
"Right. So, it's actually pretty complicated. They've got these different branches of magic, but they all tie back together. The strangest thing about it is that their most powerful magic comes from singing! Can you believe that?" As Merrill explains, she grows more and more enthusiastic, remembering her excitement at learning an entirely new style of magic.
"It certainly sounds unusual, though that boy is quite unusual himself." Marethari chuckles.

Merrill stares at her teacher in surprise. "Keeper, how old do you think Nelyafinwë is?"
The old elf pauses, considering. "Well, he looks pretty young, but he can't be quite as youthful as he looks if he was some kind of leader. Mid thirties perhaps? A very young looking early forty at absolute oldest. Not really a boy, but when you reach my age everyone under fifty seems young."
Merrill paused, considering whether or not to tell the Keeper what she knew. She did not want to betray Nelyafinwë's trust, but it seemed like an important bit of context for the process.
"Nelyafinwë is more than five centuries old." She said cautiously. "He wouldn't give me an exact age, but he said that was a fraction of his lifespan."

Marethari laughs lightly. "Come now Merrill, that seems unlikely. I understand that he's your teacher and you trust him, but still."
"I know it sounds silly, but is it really?" Merrill protests. "We know that his world has dwarves and humans, why not elves? Why wouldn't those elves be immortal like we used to be?"
Marethari's smile fades as she considers her student's words.
"Not only that." Merrill continues. "But doesn't it make more sense if he's really old? Just listing off what he can do, he's a gifted healer, a charming speaker, a saddles horseman and a master swordsman. That's just what he did while he was here! Since we left he's shown that he's also an excellent organiser, teacher, mage and more. He found a way to get his soul out of the Beyond! These things take great skill, skill that takes time to develop. It makes more sense that he's five hundred years old than if he's forty."

Marethari frown deepens as she thinks. It has become closer to a scowl by the time she sighs and slumps forward.
"Dammit. That's where you got the idea isn't it." The old elf sounds and looks defeated. "He told you about this and you thought he could help you."
Merrill cringes at how close to the truth that comment was. "It's not quite that simple, there were other factors. It was actually a spirit that made me realise how human we are, or should it be was?"
Merrill is so busy thinking over the terminology of her comment that she misses the thunderous expression on her Keeper's face.
"Why exactly were you talking to spirits without supervision?" Marethari asks.
Merrill squeaked and scrambled to defend herself. She was unsuccessful, in fact she only made it worse when she mentioned the Incident. She resolved to check on her teacher next week sometime during the lecture. Purely out of concern, obviously.

You arrive in Endataurëo travel stained and exhausted. Xandar staggers away to collapse into bed and enjoy his break from Merrill's teaching. You would be on your way to your tasks for the week but Faith stopped you.
"Sorry to disturb you sir, but a man in pretty fancy clothes showed up claiming to be the lord of the forest. He's got some concern about our food, apparently." Your steward informs you.
'You will not stoop to sarcasm' you repeat to yourself as you reply. "I see. When can I expect to see him?"

Faith shuffles nervously in place. "He's waiting for you in the throne room."
"Audience Hall. Only kings have throne rooms." You correct reflexively, before her words catch up to you. "You let him in?"
The young girl curls inward defensively at your tone. "He's a noble! We can't just refuse him entrance!"
You take a deep breath to calm yourself and continue in a more level tone. "I understand. I will meet with him immediately. Please go about your day."
The young girl scurries away and you stride towards the audience hall with anger simmering quietly.

When you reach the room, you see a short balding man, halfway through his life if you had to guess. He has a slightly pronounced gut and thick arms that wobble in a manner that suggests their mass in not muscle. His clothes are a beautiful green and clearly worth more than most of your staff's clothing combined.
When you enter, he turns to look at you, puffing up, only to deflate when he actually sees you.
You wait for several moments for him to speak, when he does not you say, "Greetings. I am told that you wished to speak to me about food?"

The human shakes himself, wobbling as he does so, and addresses you. "That's right! I'll have you know I've been waiting three days! THREE!"
You note that as the man speaks, he seems to regain the confidence that had originally drained out of him when you entered.
"If you wish to see me, you should send word ahead of time. I cannot receive guests if I do not know they are coming." You reply to his unspoken accusation.
The man does not seem to notice the implications because he scoffs. "I am the lord of this land; I go where I please and there is no need to inform anyone of my comings and goings."
"Is that so." You say, your voice stilling into something cold and dangerous. "Might I know the identity of the 'lord of this land?"
"I am Matthias Bittershielf, Bann of Whitecliffe and Lord of Brecilian forest! This land is mine and all who dwell within it are my subjects!" He proclaims imperiously

This mortal who has never lifted a sword in his life dares claim that you owe him fealty? Your rage surges anew, fuelled by your pride. The atmosphere in the room grows heavy and your had twitches. The human stumbles backwards, fear written plainly across his face. It is this that cuts through your anger. The human is ignorant and weak, hardly crimes that deserve the punishment your fury demands. As you forcibly relax, you can see the man's fear concealed behind his bluster once more.
"By whose authority?" You ask coolly.
"What was that?" He snaps, sounding confused.
"By whose authority are you the lord of the forest?" You expand your question, tone calm and quiet.

Your question clearly takes the 'noble' off guard. "The Banns of Whitecliffe have always been the lords of the forest."
You will not stoop to sarcasm; you are better than that. Even if it seems like it would be incredibly satisfying at this moment.
"What exactly is it that you want?" You change the topic lest your worst impulses overcome you. "You have not mentioned why you are here yet."
"I am here to collect the back taxes you owe me of course." The noble sniffs. "I don't know how you went unnoticed for so long, but no one is exempt from the Teyrn's food levy. Not to mention the rent you owe me for using the land."

You continue to stare at him, and he begins to shrink back slightly.
"Would these taxes also apply to the Dalish?" You ask, partly out of concern and partly out of genuine curiosity.
The human sputters for a few moments before managing to spray some words at you. "Of course! Everyone who uses my land must pay taxes."
Your limited understanding of the laws of the land makes you sceptical on the matter, and his hesitance suggest he does not know for certain either.

You would perhaps have heeded the man if he had come up to you and explained why you owed him taxes. Given that he has swept in without a word of explanation, your immediate suspicion is that he is trying to swindle you. It has nothing to do with him being a human, though that is hardly in his favour. That he has apparently come without guards and has clearly been intimidated by your armour and weapon, indicates to you he was likely expecting a group of peasants without protection who would bow to the mere mention of nobility. Unfortunately for him, you are not merely a noble yourself but also a former king. As a result, you have no compunctions about escalating the situation in a manner that nobody who was not at least former nobility would be.

"I find your interpretation of the law to be extremely suspect. Given my understanding of the Treaty of the Dales gives the Dalish broad autonomy under the law." You reply calmly, continuing over his attempted protests. "If you are going to insist on your interpretation of the law, I will be forced to take this to the magistrates."
"Magistrates?" The alleged noble puffs himself up further, somehow. "What on earth are you talking about?"
You fight back a sigh, if this kingdom does not have travelling magistrates you question the competence of its king.
"I suppose the only recourse is to the Teyrn then." You muse, more to yourself than anyone else. "I'm sure he will be interested to hear about your interpretation of his laws."
"There is no need to get the Teyrn involved in this matter!" The man attempts to sound intimidation but comes across as panicked. "The law is the law; all food is to be taxed at one hundred percent beyond the minimum!"

You loom over the human, your smile dangerous. "That would be the Teyrn's law yes? Why is this the first I am hearing of it? Further, what is the minimum? It seems like I am going to need to go to the Teyrn's court to get answers to these questions, since something as simple as wandering magistrates is apparently beyond the minds of the lords of this land."
"Absolutely not!" The human protests hotly. "I am appointed by the Teyrn as his representative, and I am authorised to use force to compel your obedience if necessary!"
You laugh, a cruel sound echoing through the largely empty hall. "You come here, alone, to my fortress, surrounded by men loyal to me and you think to threaten me? Do you really wish to disappear into the forest, never to be seen again?"
The man's face drains of all colour, and he silently shakes his head.

It takes a while to convince the man to admit the location of the Teyrn, the city of Denerim. You consult your copy of the Dalish's map and find it slightly more than a day's ride from you.
"It seems you will have no choice but to enjoy our hospitality for a while. I have travelled far today, and I wish to rest. Tomorrow we will ride to Denerim and put an end to this unpleasantness." You inform the still pale human.
"That's alright, I'll make my own way there." He squeaks.
"Nonsense." You dismiss his words. "It would be terrible crime to make you ride all the way home after your poor reception. Please allow me to make up for my poor behaviour as a host."
As you escort the human to a guest room you breathe an internal sigh of relief. You did not want him reaching the Teyrn with a whole extra day to present his case.

You want to improve your ability to convince people of your ideas and lead them. This presents a small problem; you know more about the matter than literally any human alive. The number of Noldor who could have taught you something on the matter could be counted on a single finger. If you consider the entirety of the Eldar, the number jumps up to an amazing four. Since you have access to none of these people your only option is to try to something incredibly difficult, to stretch your abilities to the uttermost and in doing so learn more about your art.
"Ok I get that, but why are ya askin' me? And what are ya askin' for that matter." Ranger replies.
"It is less that I am asking you about anything and more that I am trying to get your feedback on the idea, given your own skill in your arts." You inform your friend and teacher.

"It isn't the craziest idea I've ever heard. Though it sounds a little arrogant to say that ya could count the people who know more about the matter than you on one hand." Ranger replies.
"It is true though. While I acknowledge that cousin Artanis knows things about inspiring and leading that I do not, she is not objectively better at it than I am. Father was better, as he was at most things, but no one else among the Noldor is my better. Equal yes, but not better." You explain.
"Really?" Ranger sounds sceptical. "So ya're sayin' that, for example, ya could get any girl ya wanted?"
You give him a glare. "Leaving aside that some of us do not have our lives revolve around our genitals and what other people do with them, no. People are not machines. There is no button to press to make them want you. I can present a compelling case for myself, but it is still their choice to accept."

Ranger stares at you for several moments, then snorts. "Well, I guess that rules out the pickup artist route."
"The what now?" You ask in complete confusion.
"Ya know, those guys who say they can convince any girl to sleep with them. They're probably the only people I can think of who could teach ya how to be more charmin'." Ranger explains.
"I doubt I could learn from anyone so clearly self-delusional. Further I was hoping to learn more about leadership, not simply charm." You reply.
Ranger shrugs. "Then I'm not sure what ya want from me. Ya're already better at that than most nobles I've ever met."

You consider for a moment. You confess, to yourself if no one else, you had largely been using Ranger as a sounding board for your own ideas. However, since he is offering to help…
"What would the people of this land consider a legendary deed of leadership or charisma?" You ask.
Your people have few tales of great leadership that you have not witnessed or heard of. An outside perspective may be fertile ground for possibilities.
"Damn kid, ya don't ask easy questions do ya?" Ranger asks rhetorically. "Well, let's see. There's this story about someone who walked into a king's court and asked to be made a servant. He used that position to end up a lord. Course there's Andraste. Convincing a group of people you're a messenger from god ain't exactly easy ya know? Perhaps ya could end racism, that'd be pretty legendary."
"I am going into Denerim to speak to the Teyrn already…" You muse.