thranduil oropherion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rowancrowned) wrote2015-03-22 06:02 pm
rowancrowned) wrote2015-03-22 06:02 pm
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[ please imagine his tone for that sentence, spoken out loud. dry enough to catch fire off a particularly warm breeze. ]
But elves are elves wherever. I speak the word in my mother-tongue and you understand it as referring to the people who have pointed ears and whom the mortal death has no hold on. Even if the elven of Thedas have lost it, it will be returned to them. There is power in that, there is significance. And a lack of roads could mean many things, but I see the things that are accomplished by Craft in this world and can only come to the conclusion that they had no need of such things.
[ morrigan, stop having secrets with everyone but him. it makes him feel abstractly annoyed, even though he can't quite place why. ]
Whatever your mother is, I have questions for her. Why might the return of the dragons aid her?
These stories disgust me; I admit this freely. Kinslaying is a horrible crime, and to hear it spoken of so freely only further illustrates the state this world is in. These tales sound like the ways Men will recite deeds of their House generations after the battles or stories, when little of the truth is left.
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Mankind has crushed so very much that it does not understand, and if it is not stopped, we will be left with only the mundane. That is what I seek to halt. I know this very much to be true.
You will recall that my mother can become a dragon? Imagine, whatever she might be in truth, how much harder t'would it be for her to disguise such a thing were the world emptied of them entirely? When dragons take to the skies again, she could indeed be but one of any of them. And when she is an old woman she is Flemeth. Flemeth of the legends or Flemeth of tales to frighten a disobedient child. Asha'bellanar to the Dalish. There are some here who have wondered if she might aid us now as she did the Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall before they wore such lofty titles and I say this: when a woman such as that offers aid, she does not do it out of charity, or the goodness of her heart. She knows nothing of these things.
A tale such as the one I have told is one oft recited among the Dalish, and one that hunters indeed hold particularly dear to them. They have carried it a long time, when she is the mother of halla. Fen'harel's teeth is not solely reserved for shemlen with some clans. You might think elves are elves, but you are a rifter, stranger to them than the flat ears in the cities.
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Altruism is possible, even past a certain age. Her motivations are likely longer-reaching than are possible for you to see as you are, without full knowledge of her past.
[ she's an intelligent woman. she'll catch onto what he's not saying about himself and his plans. it's not wholly territorial- in fifty years, in a century, in two, he'll have what he wants, which happens to dovetail neatly with what she wants, in a way. ]
Given time, the abnormal becomes normal. If they do not see, then their children will, or even their grandchildren.
What are Fen'harel's teeth?
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[If her hand shakes when she writes that, she does well to hide it. She has spent a lifetime this way; Flemeth is always the shadow and the sculptor, and Morrigan might never be free of a thing under her skin like this, but she will do her best never to show it, now when she would rise like a lion to keep her son safe from that woman.
When she would do better, no matter the cost to herself.]
To some, tis a game. To others...likely something much darker. The version I have heard of involves a pair of hardened leather leggings with tiny nails driven into the insides. A captive is forced into them. They are made to run whilst the Dalish give chase after a count of one hundred is given, their hands lashed behind them. Twas a Dalish now gone that told me such a tale, and I had heard such from humans but believed it to be some of the darker stories told of them. To hear the truth of it from one of their own was as unsettling as it was unsurprising.
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[ her handwriting is flawless. he notes no tremor. ]
And this elf, did they speak of it as something they had seen done, by kin? Or only as a story.
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Though he did leave his clan long ago, and call him traitor for doing so. But the Dalish do not always wish to remember that their stories have teeth even when they set the Dread Wolf outside their camps.
[Like any time Andruil had zero chill.]
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Why is it the elves who have drawn your interest? Only for the Empire that once was? You would be able to look at the ancient Tevenes and go back nearly as far in history. Why not the origin of your own people?
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I know only my mother. Nothing more. I grew up in the Korcari Wilds with only she and I, my forays into a civilised world that forgets itself and the Chasind were they not apt to flee should they think Flemeth close behind me then. That is my people, nothing more.
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Gwenaelle seems very fond of you. Fonder than she is of me. I suspect she would call herself one of yours.
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Why would she not? I know what it is to be a young woman making my way in a world that would seek to bind me. I am curious, however, as to what you mean by 'one of yours'.
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[ it was just kind of a Thing you did as one of the quendi. no biggie. ]
Your mother is your mother in name only, you had no choice in being of your line. You chose our mutual friend, I suspect, but she is kin to you despite having none of your blood.