AN: Double Update because I forgot Chapter 29

The new week dawns grey and cloudy. You are certain that it is going to be raining for most if not all of it. The leader of the Dalish guards calls out to you that a group is approaching. It is Lanaya's messenger from last week. It seems you will now know what the Sabrae clan was willing to send.

As with Lanaya's clan, it seems that the Dalish are generally unwilling to leave their clans for any extended period of time. If it were not for your great reputation among the clan no one would have come. As it is you are introduced to three Dalish, all women, who for reasons they do not want to discuss are willing to work for you.

You assign the three Dalish women to work in the housekeeping staff. Cooking, cleaning and washing clothes is neither challenging nor glamorous, but it is something that needs to be done. You ask them if they plan to remain permanently. Upon receiving a vague affirmative, usually something along the lines of "I don't have any plans to leave right now.", you make a mental note to pay them. Dalish may not use money among themselves but if they are staying here, they may very well find a use for it.

There is rain pouring down from the darkened skies. You put your plans for the many different tasks you must undertake this week on hold for now. You have let Ranger indulge in idleness for long enough. The time has come to give him the work you had promised him. You find him glaring at the rain from one of the many covered balconies, likely unwilling to hunt in this weather but too bored to remain here.

"Why do you glare at the rain so? It is high time we had some, I had begun to fear for the orchard." You ask teasingly.
"Ya bleedin' well know why. This weather is miserable fer huntin'. Wha're ya doin' here?" Ranger grumbles at you.
"I said I had work for you, and I meant it. Are you still interested?" You ask the hunter.
Ranger blinks a few times, then turns to look at you. "Wha? I mean yeh I'm interested. But wha'd I be doin'?"
You look at him in confusion. "Do you not remember our conversation in the tavern? I provided a short list."
Ranger coughs into his fist a few times. "Well, strictly speakin' I don't remember too much abou' tha' night. Refresh my memory."

"Well, there is the position of forester, managing the sustainability of the hunting grounds. You could also take up the role of a scout and hunter for the base, we will need one if we ever get into a serious fight. You could also move to Gladesville; they are always in need of skilled hunters and good teachers." You list.
"Right. Right, I can do those. I suppose the only question is how much ya'll pay me." Ranger muses stroking his chin.
"I pay most of my workers ten coppers a day, with protection, room and board all included." You tell him.
"Ah, but I already have a few o' those, plus I ain't a wet behind the ears nobody. I reckon I deserve a full silver." Ranger says, a glint in his eye.
"In that case, I am sure you will have no objection to paying rent for your room and the full price for your food. It is only reasonable considering the high price your services fetch." You counter, old habits of haggling coming to the forefront.

To list out all the haggling that took place would be tedious should anyone ever compile a tale of your life. You end up agreeing that triple pay is a fair wage for him given his significant skill in the area.
"So you are certain you wish to remain here then, you are uninterested in the position at Gladesville?" You ask him when negotiations have ended.
"Ah, ti… I mean bug… Ah nuts. I totally forgot about tha'." Ranger says.
He falls silent for several minutes, then he finally decides that he would like to work as your chief forester.

"Excellent, I will be more than pleased to entrust the future of the forest to your capable hands." You tell your friend.
"Ya don't need the noble speak ya know? I don't need to be flattered for somthin' so simple." Ranger says awkwardly, scratching at his nose.
"I do not flatter." You assure him. "If I had to choose a role for you, I would choose a forester every time. That hunting spot you showed me was a thing of great beauty and skill. If you could achieve the same thing with the rest of the forest, I would consider you to have easily earned every coin I give you."

Ranger chuckles. "Thanks. Ya really know how to stroke a man's ego. Make me feel bettah about the whole takin' money from a friend thing."
"I make it a policy to hire friends when I can. A stranger may or may not do good work, but a friend will always put his best effort into helping you." You tell him as you begin to walk towards the stable.
Ranger follows along without thinking. "Yeah? Wha' abou' if he tries to take advantage since he knows ya won't fire him."
You look at him sideways. "Then you have not hired a friend, you have hired a liar. Liars will quickly find out that there is a reason I am not famed for my mercy."

"Tha' ain't the story I hear from the folks down Gladesville way. Accordin' to them ya're some kind o' cross between a saint and one o' them proper noble types. Ya know the ones wha' ride out all personal when harvests are bad and such." Ranger says, elbowing you in the side.
You sniff imperiously. "Spare a man's life and he will sing your praises from the mountaintops. They cannot speak truly of my character. As for the aid I give them, it is simply a matter of responsibility. That there are nobles who would not personally give aid in times of hardship speaks more to their lack of character than to the presence of it in those who do so."

Ranger laughs at your comment. "Ya've got quite some opinions about nobles don't ya?"
You shrug. "I was raised to believe that power and responsibility are inseparable twins. We are here."
You have arrived at the stables, Orundómë is looking at you with barely concealed excitement.
"What're we doin' here?" Ranger asks.
"We are taking you to introduce yourself to the other denizens of the forest." You inform him calmly. You idly pet the Mabari that has wandered over from the nearby kennels.
"Wha'? Tha' wasn't part o' the job." Ranger exclaims.
You give him a flat look. "If you are to manage those who hunt in the forests you must be able to speak to them. Why would you assume otherwise?"
"I thought you'd tell them and I'd jus' mark out areas or pop in sometimes. I ain't no good at talkin' to folks. Besides it's so wet, who wants to ride in that?" Ranger says, fidgeting nervously.

You give Ranger a considering look as you debate your options. You could let him 'off the hook' as the locals say. Go yourself and tell everyone without bringing him along. You could go with your original plan and bring him along and support him as he talks to the others. You could also send him out alone, really challenge him with a new task he is uncomfortable with. After considering your options you realised, as you so often do, that your first idea was the best one.

You spring onto Orundómë's back. You whisper a question into his ear and get an ear flick of agreement.
You extend a hand down to Ranger and say, "Climb on, you do not need to fear. I will be with you should anything go wrong. You will need to speak to these people frequently, it is best to get used to it now."
Range looks at you, down to your hand, then over to Orundómë. "Doesn't ya horse kick anyone tha' tries to ride it?"
You chuckle. "I asked him if I could bring you along and he agreed. Come, make no more excuses."

Ranger sighs. "Ya're gonna be the death o' me kid."
He grabs your hand, and you haul him up onto Orundómë's back. "Have you ever ridden without a saddle before?"
He looks at you as though you are crazy.
"Well better hold onto my waist then." You say.
He looks at you strangely again, then gingerly does so. "Jus' don't make this weird kid."
You laugh at his strange behaviour. "Come Orundómë show us the meaning of speed."
The great horse needs no further encouragement and speeds off into the forest.

Your trip to Gladesville is not particularly noteworthy.
"We nearly died! Three times! A spider tried to eat me!" Ranger yells to one of the villagers.
Orundómë seemed to take Ranger's presence as an invitation to show off.
"That horse is a demon! I swear it was trying to slam us into a tree with how close to them it ran!" Ranger continues to complain.
You made excellent time and the journey seems to have washed away much of Ranger's hesitancy. Though you will admit you would like it if he got to the point soon.
"What do you mean you have no booze! What is the point of living without booze!" Ranger's cries reach a shrieking pitch.
You may be enjoying his distress a little bit too much.

You do end up having to intervene and inform the village that Ranger is a gifted hunter they should consult with when hunting. They are sceptical due to his somewhat unhinged behaviour, but they trust you enough that you do not need to do anything about it yet. You wave goodbye as Ranger whines about wanting to walk to the Dalish.
"I have far too much to do this week to lose the time that walking will take. Besides this weather is awful and I want to be out of it as soon as possible." You gesture at the heavy cloak Ranger is wearing and the soaking downpour.
Your words put an end to his complaining.

When you arrive in Lanaya's clan's camp you gather the leaders of the warriors, with Lanaya's permission of course. Ranger is teasing you about the way Lanaya speaks to you as they arrive.
"I tell ya, tha's the kind o' thing ya need to hear more often. I mean…" He trails off, staring at the man who had just walked in.
"What are you staring at Shemlen?" The warrior snaps at him.
"Ah, sorry. Jus', ya don't have a daughter do ya?" Ranger asks, with a note of guilt in his voice.
The elf's face twists in fury. "Not anymore."
Ranger hesitates, moving to speak before stopping several times.
At last he says. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Ya deserve to know. I was the wolf, ya know, the one who… killed her."
There is a heartbeat of utter stillness. Then with a cry of rage and grief the man drags his sword from its sheathe and lashes out at Ranger.

His blade skates off your own. The full might of his two handed swing is deflected along your blade and into the ground. Your free hand lashes out and grips his wrist. Your might proves far superior to his when all his straining cannot budge your grip.
He looks at you, eyes wild. "Stand aside!"

"Will slaying him bring your daughter back? Will ending his life ease the pain that claws at your heart? You and I both know that it will not." You say gently.
"This is justice! Vengeance for my girl! Stand aside outsider!" He screams at you.
"This is not justice. The curse stole the wolves' minds from them, they are no more to blame for their past actions than an animal is." You reply.
"We kill animals that harm people!" His spittle hits your face as he stretches up towards your face.
"He is no longer an animal though." You point out. "His death will not aid anyone, least of all you. This is Zathrien's path, an endless spiral of anger and grief."
There is a moment when you fear you have gone too far, as all around you there are gasps and the other warriors step back. Then the man falls to his knees, his sword released from his hand. You release his wrist as he begins to openly sob.

After that there is no chance to convince the people of Lanaya's clan to follow Ranger's lead. Too many people hate the werewolves, who it seems were quite active against the clan in days before the Lady of the Forest came.
"I think we should go." Ranger says after the most recent refusal to even listen to your proposal.
You sigh heavily, the last thing you want to do is admit defeat but even you can tell this is a lost cause.
"Yes. Let us return." You tell him.
The ride back to Endataurëo is silent.

The rain has not let up since the week began, and you have little confidence that it will do so in the next few days. You decide that you will try to wait out the rain and do so while enacting one of your long delayed projects. The songs, tales and oral history of the Dalish is a book you have been meaning to write for some time. Thanks to your trade network it is finally possible to acquire paper without having to make it yourself. You had exchanged the leather you made yourself for two rolls of paper last week in anticipation of this project, it had required far too much haggling to manage such a good deal. You still have plenty of ink made from months ago, so there is nothing else you need for the project.

You have to consider who you want to talk to. You are tempted to avoid speaking to the Sabrae clan due to the distance required to reach them. You look at the rain and the dark clouds. You do have the time to do so if you wish to. You also have far better relationships in the Sabrae clan. It would also have the benefit of allowing you to compare two different versions of all the stories you manage to uncover. You sigh as you realise you have talked yourself into making a three day trip, well day and a half if you let Orundómë run, in the wet and cold. So much for a task to keep you out of the rain.

You further need to consider who among the clans you will ask for tales of their people. You ignore the voice in the back of your head that suggests you are stalling because you do not want to ride through the rain. You need to decide before you leave in case you want to talk to Merrill. There is definitely no other reason. The real question is if you want to talk to the keepers, the elders or the common folk.

You take another look at the immense downpour the sounds of water striking the ground filling your ears. You really only have one option, you should talk to the Keepers that you know, and Merrill who is not yet a keeper, as they keep the secret of the Dalish and you are on good terms with most of them. You are not sure why you even considered any other option. You turn on your heel, cloak billowing behind you, as you head to wherever Merrill is and away from the rain.

You find Merrill supervising Xandar as he performs some exercise regarding creation. To your amusement it seems to involve a twig fallen from a tree, much like your first lesson with her.
When Merrill sees you enter the room she says, "Hi Nelyafinwë. I thought you were busy. Do you need something?"
You look at Xandar and reply, "It is nothing that cannot wait until the lesson is done. It has to do with a personal project of mine."
Merrill turns back to her lesson, and you go the a nearby room to fetch a chair. You are pleased to see that the expanded housekeeping staff are keeping the rooms not in use clean. With your plans for expansion, it would be a shame if people had to clean their rooms when they arrive.

You return to the room with your chair and wait until Merrill finishes her lesson. You speak briefly to Xandar, praising his progress. Then you and Merrill are alone in the room together.
"So what's this project you want my help with." Merrill asks with shining eyes. "Are you doing something with the Beyond. No. No. It's the templar abilities isn't it. Oh! Or is this about going home? Oh I know it's…"
You raise your hand laughing. "No Merrill nothing like that, I am afraid. Actually, this is a book I was hoping to write, mostly to improve my language skills but also to understand my distant cousins better. Tell me, are there any stories, songs or histories of your people that you are willing to share with me?"

Merrill's face falls. She goes still for a long moment. When her stillness passes, she looks around nervously. She moves in place a few times, shifting her weight from one foot to another.
Finally she says, "Ah. Well. That is. I'm not really supposed to share those sorts of things with outsiders."
You smile at her understandingly. "If you do not wish to you do not have to. I am merely asking; I am not holding anything over your head to force you."
Merrill looks at you for another long moment.
When she speaks, her voice is small and quiet. "I suppose I could tell you a few things, what did you want to know?"

"What I am most curious about is the culture of the Dalish. I appreciate that culture is often hard to perceive when one is a part of it, so I have prepared a question. What is the difference between a city elf and a Dalish elf?" You ask Merrill.
"Oh, that's not what I was expecting." Merrill seems to brighten somewhat. "Well, I guess the most obvious difference is that we're nomadic and they're not."
"That does seem obvious." You agree.
Merrill nods, "It's not really much that's specific to elves though. I guess the real difference is how Elvish we are."

You rest your chin on your fist. "You are going to need to give me more information than that."
Merrill nods. "Well, city elves live in human cities. They pick up a lot of human customs and can't practice elven customs as much as we do. It's usually illegal outside the alienages."
"That seems incredibly unjust." You say, your voice flat and dangerous. "By whose hand was this wrought?"
"I wish there was a single person I could point to, but there isn't. It's a combination of nobles, the chantry and common folk all working together." Merrill say, shrugging.
"You seem very calm about this. Are they not your people?" You ask her.
She starts slightly and looks aside guiltily. "Well. Uh, most Dalish don't really consider city elves 'our people' per say. It's kind of like the, uh, small races you were talking about when I asked you about your people. They don't really act like us or speak Elvish and mostly they are just different."

You consider her words. You can almost see her point. You had not exactly wept to hear of Thingol's death for example. Yet, you would have ridden to Doriath's aid against Morgoth. If it would have gained you the Silmaril you would likely have sworn yourself and your warriors to its defence for all time. You struggle to fathom the callous disregard for their fellows the Dalish seem to show for the city Elves. The only other things Merrill tells you are things you already know, such as their tattoos or their use of Elvish.

After you have finished talking to Merrill you hop on Orundómë and ride in the direction of Lanaya's clan. The trip is miserable, even your horse's eagerness for riding is dampened by the weather. You make it to Lanaya's clan before too long though, and you gratefully duck into her wagon and out of the weather.
When you have hung your cloak by the fire to dry, she asks you, "What brings you here? Are you here to apologise for your existence?"
"You are fortunate that I am here to ask a favour, else I would crush your pathetic excuses for insults beneath my superior wit." You reply, shivering as the loss of your cloak reveals how cold it truly is.
"Oh, a favour? Do tell me, I'm all ears." Lanaya says, leaning forward.
"I wanted to know if you had any stories of the Dalish people you were willing to share." You ask.

Lanaya's smile leaves her face, and she leans back once more.
"Ah. That is quite the favour." She says, her eyes cool and assessing. "What is it that you wanted to know exactly?"
"I was wondering about the Elven gods. Who are they and what stories do you tell about them?" You inform Lanaya.
She gives you a long searching look. Then she says. "There are nine gods that we worship. Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance, Mythal: the Great Protector, Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets, Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt, Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper, June: God of the Craft, Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla, and Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf."

Lanaya falls silent. You make notes of all the gods' names, ensuring to leave plenty of room for notes.
"Can you tell me more about these gods?" You ask.
Fen'Harel in particular has caught your interest, you remember the wolf that had tried to prevent you from leaving the Beyond, and your dreams of dragons and wolves.
"I'm afraid not." Lanaya replies.
When you look up and prepare to speak, she raises her hand. "I know you mean well, but this knowledge is sacred to us. It is my duty to preserve and protect it, and as an outsider I should not share it with you."
Your attempts to sway her have little effect.

After hearing everything Lanaya was willing to tell you, you ride for the Sabrae clan. You are greeted warmly once you arrive, hurried out of the rain and asked many questions. You tell your many well-wishers how Merrill has been, what Endataurëo is like. Paivel and Tamlen are furious to discover what you had done to the Elven ruin, but others are less harsh in their judgements. After nearly two hours of dealing with the clan, you finally manage to get Marethari alone.
"Greetings Keeper. I hope you are well." You begin.
"I am as well as can be expected. How is our student?" She returns.
"Thrilled and delighted by all there is to learn. I wish to ask you a favour." You respond.
"Oh? Straight to the point? How unusual. Tell me, what favour?" She says lightly.
"I would like you to share all that you are willing to of your people's stories." You tell her.

Much like the others you have asked, Marethari's good cheer dims somewhat.
"Do you know what you are asking?" She queries, her tone cautious.
"I know you are wary of outsiders, so I ask only for that which you would share with one such as myself." You tell her, as frankly as possible.
Marethari thinks for a while, then she nods to herself.
She looks up to you smiling. "Tell me what you want to know, and I'll see what I can do."

"I want to know the history of your people. As you would tell it to another of your people if possible." You tell Marethari.
"Oh? As I would tell my own people? Are you going to return the favour?" Marethari attempts to tease you.
"I doubt you would be willing to endure the days of singing that would require." You reply, unaffected.
Marethari stares at you in disbelief. "Days of singing? I have so many questions, and so little time in which to ask them. Your people sing your history?"
"Yes, it is far easier to remember song, and it is more interesting to listen to. Do your people not?" You ask, jotting down notes, this has already been more useful than Lanaya's contribution.
"No. I don't suppose…" Marethari begins.
You anticipate her question. "I will aid you, but I will need to know what I am putting to song. I will warn you that I am not the bard of the family."
Marethari laughs. "Never change Nelyafinwë."

Marethari stares out her window at the rain. "Very well, as I would tell my people."
She clears her throat. "Listen children." She says grinning at you.
You ignore her attempt at humour, to focused on what she will tell you.
"When Andraste led her rebellion against the Tevinter Imperium we rose up under Shartan. We were promised a land of our own in exchange for our hope, and even after Andraste and Shartan's deaths the promise was honoured. Our journey was long, many died of exhaustion or were slain by human bandits. We finally reached the dales and founded the city of Halamshiral, 'the end of the journey'. For a time, three centuries, we were free."

She pauses to look at you. You scribble down notes, trying to draw out conclusions about what this means for her culture.
"Would this normally be done in Elvish?" You ask.
She shakes her head. "No, it is too fragmented. We tell the tale exactly as I have told you."
Then she continues with the history. "The humans and their chantry did not leave us alone. They sent their missionaries, they tested our borders. Always they sought to return us to subjugation. Our refusal angered them and they swept over us like the tide. They forgot our aid to their prophet, that Shartan had been called 'brother' by Andraste, that he had died trying to aid her. Not even the Emerald knights could stop them. So, we are doomed to roam, until the time comes we can reclaim the Dales."

She ends her tale there. You still have many questions, but it is not a story that welcomes questions. Instead, you commiserate with her, you have lost more than one home yourself. You find yourself wondering, after all you have heard, if Xandar might have a point about the Chantry.