Light pours into my glossy hazel eyes as I try to stand up, holding onto my chest, stumbling through a bright lit field. I strip of my deep blue cloak unbuckling the gold pins to my white linen shirt. My chest is not pierced with red bloody strokes of fangs but five or so scratch marks that glisten by the sunlight. There are no signs of a sword on both my legs but when I pull my tan trousers back down there are only deep, ragged lines. This comes as a shock to me as if a very gifted doctor has healed me from impossible wounds. I come quick to realize what has become of me and place a hand against my ear, feeling the pointing at the top of it. I take a strand of my brown hair and look as it goes down to the middle of my back
Disoriented, I stumble trying to find Edina, maybe she hasn’t woken up, I think and place a hand against my head to stop the spinning. I sit on the ground to focus my eyes when I’m startled.
“ Are you lost, mon ami?” The voice comes from a little girl barely clearing the age of ten behind me. She wears a lavender knee length dress, with stark brown eyes, and dark brown skin. Her ears and long black hair are like mine. And she wears ballet flats instead of the usual boots that I wear from Spain.
“ Perhaps, where is this place? And where are your parents, little one?” I ask, bending down slightly to meet her eyes, still dazed as to what is happening. She can only be the age of ten at the most, but acts as if she has lived for generations, like she’s already grown up.
“ We are in Tratador. You shall come with me to meet my mother. She is in a castle a little north of here,” She says, taking my fingers in hers, dragging us to the city.
The empty fields we walk are caked with dirt and undoubtable ruin my clothing as the stocks grow higher to where I can barely see. She keeps a hand on me though, like the little girl knows this place, calls it home. I was just fighting a skin walker, now I’m walking through corn stocks, at least I hope it’s corn, I am either drunk or asleep and neither of those things are true. The Sun beats on us with horendous heat and I think that maybe I’m hallucinating, that this is all a dream.
“ Sorry to interrupt but where are we?” I ask as she turns her head slightly to look at me.
“ Tratador, where else,” She says.
“ I’ve never even heard of this place and I certainly don’t remember growing my hair long and making my ears pointed,” This time she stops dead in her tracks, to look at me with a sad glance.
“ You died fighting that beast, and now as a reward for dying in an honorable position you get to be in Elvish territory, to live out eternity in peace,”
“ I-I’m dead, what about my sister, where is she?”
“ Most likely somewhere else in the Elvish territory where you are placed is based on what you were in your past life,”
Soon, I can see through the corn stocks and see a city.
I cannot believe what I see when the guards dressed in black and silver let us into the city surrounded by water. It seems similar to the city of Venice as with the natural water bordering the etherial capital. Buildings of earthly colors like brown, green, white, and red circulate the town square. It is complete with just a simple but beautiful fountain decorated with charubs and mosaic tiles, piled with coins in the water. The moon shines upon the city making it glow unearthly, making it beautiful
Music, talking, and laughter fill my ears, even a few streets away I can hear it as we follow the winding path to the white marble castle with golden domes atop it. The girl takes me behind a waterfall, both of us almost slipping on rock as we reach the other side, reaching yet another gilded gate.
“ Who is this?” A guard asks, pointing at me with the tip of his sword.
“ He is a newly born elf, Fyron,” She says, as we both bow. They let us go through and I look up as we walk up the stairs, I stare in awe at the beauty of this castle. I come to realize I left my cloak in the field but feel relief knowing that I buttoned up my shirt to the collar.
The girl tugs on my shirtsleeve and am brought to a much smaller door painted black. She goes in first barely fitting motioning me to come through. I can hear the knocking of glasses, and the eruption of laughter, high pitched and mocking.
“ I cannot fit, that door is much too small for my body. It is barely big enough to fit yours,” I whisper, on my hands and knees looking at her. Candlelight emites from her hand and I’m shocked as she is holding fire in her hands for me to see.
“ Crawl in, it will be alright my friend, I promise,” She says, placing a hand against both of her shoulders, smiling, an Elvish term of promise if I’m correct.
Slowly, I crawl through, wincing as I move onto the cold tile and push me to a golden pillar, signaling for me to quiet myself. Even from being tucked in the corner of a ballroom I can see the exquisite taste of this court. Black and white tiling that’s embedded with diamonds and other precious minerals. The pillars are made out of pure gold and tapestries as well as paintings line the walls from all I could see.
“ How did I fit?” I ask, letting herself be placed against the wall across from my before speaking.
“ It is a power I received when I turned into an elf. Everyone has some sort of ability, mine is the manipulation of objects,” Her tone is giddy as she smiles at me letting a smile creep onto my face as well.
“ So, once people get turned into elves they receive magical powers limited to them in their life before,” I say, pulling a leg up to my chest.
“ Yes, once a person dies and comes here it is my job to take them here, so then they can receive training on their powers and get used to the life of an elf. It is always joyus to gain a new member in court but it is even better if they are young, then they can stay that way eternally,” She says.
“ I shall meet the Queen then, lest there be a different protocol on these matters here,” I stand up ready to move when a flag surrounds my body, tightly wrapping around me as she smirks.
How could I forget, elves are known for their mischief and tricks.
“ Stay here and wait until I raise a thumb up. For I want your entrance to be better executed than others,” She says.
“ Let me go then, out of this trap,” I say, the flag moves back into its position behind her as she walks away into the throngs of dancing elves, laughing at her prank.
I walk through the crowd of courtiers to find my brother who is a few feet away, mindlessly drinking out of a flute of water I suppose. His face is emotionless but not cruel as I tap on his shoulder. He snaps out of his trance and looks down smiling at me, kneeling before me.
“ What have you been up to, Cici?” He asks, smiling though it does not reach his eyes as I respond.
“ I have been in the fields. I also brought a friend with me, brother, would you like me to show you?” I smile my sweetest and place a rose in his hair.
“ How adorable you are, how can I say no?” he pats my head, wearing only a golden vest above his shirt, radiating in his sun. I run with grace back towards the secret door and find the boy leaned against the wall.
“ Come with me, I shall show you to my brother,” I say, taking his arm running.
I follow the little girl who I find is named Cecile from passer bys as I am brought to a mosaic stained glass window. She tells me to stay and I do let her bring a boy around my age to me.
Straightening my neckcloth I bow, taking a shaky breath and look back to the boy’s face. He is lean and tall, a few inches taller that me perhaps.
“ My name is Salvador Hutcherson, it is a pleasure to have your acquaintance,” I say, he nods and curtly bows, letting his red hair fall out of it’s plaits, framing his face. His face is in a smile as he looks to the side as if he was embarrassed to talk to me, he’s the Prince for god’s sake.
“ You may call me Nicholas Livingston, I hope you find this castle homely,” he gives a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes in my direction as he lets his sister whisper something in his ear. His face is tinted pink and murmurs something back to her. That face is one I’ve seen before in my lifetime, like he was a close friend of mine.
He seems so familiar but I cannot place it-
“ Shall we bring him to his mother?” Cecile asks.
“ Yes,” He responds, “ If you are uninjured I would like you to see the Queen at once, if it pleases you,” He looks back at me, cyan blue eyes glaring, gentle in thought as if he is giving me time to say no. I can see him bite his lip, like he was the shy and gentlemanly boy a few years ago that I met when we were small.
“ I will,” I say looking down at my clothes, “ Before my entrance I have rather be dressed in the proper attire to meet a Queen, away from these rags,”
“ Nick shall have some clothes that shall fit your size, don’t you?”Cecile nudges her brother’s side as he rolls his eyes.
“ Alright Salvador come with me, there is a secret entrance,” He points to his sister, “ Keep the Queen in the ballroom until we come back,” He motions for me to follow him and I do as we hide between a pillar and a wall, only but half a foot away from each other. I smell peppermint and am brought to my memory’s in the city square of Madrid, it always was weird to me because Nick would always stand out in the city and I would always know where to find him.
This is the same peppermint smell wafting in my nose, it truly is Nick, it’s alarming as my friend who I saw die in the streets, is in front of me, so close that if I just moved forward I can hug him.
I can feel my breath hitch as I come to realize who he is; a person who has suffered so much is standing before me as a prince. I cannot wrap my head around this Elvish land, much less my friend who got killed standing before me perfectly fine.
“ Hold onto my arms so I can use my gift to get to my room without the guards catching us out,” He whispers, I search his eyes for any sarcasm or trickery but I see none, I only see genuine intentions. Even as a few years past he is still the same person.
I glance from his eyes to his slender arms and grab onto them as Nicholas looks startled at me. My heart pounds as I have never been this close to someone before and would be a peculiar thing to explain. He closes his eyes and golden magic surrounds us as I look with curiosity, like a child. It brightens his pale skin to a honey color. It is now like golden globes around us as I look at him laughing and he gives what seems to be a small smile, only half looking at me. The golden embers slowly swim away revealing a room made for a prince.
There is a big bed behind Nicholas that has a black blanket with a white canopy. A desk is behind me filled with papers and a quill with a rug under us. Other trinkets are around the room but I don’t take notice as Nicholas falls on knees, bleary eyed. He looks so vulnerable, like a child about ready to receive his punishments.
I place a finger under his chin so he can look at me and he is an utter catastrophe. His eyes are half open, the bright cyan is a dull grey, a sheen of tiredness cloaks them. His face and dark red hair is doused in sweat, his hair limp against his face. The tint of skin underneath my fingers goes from a perfectly fair complexion to a light gray one. Everything about him now is gray and dreary, it hurts me to see him suffer because of my doing.
“ Are you alright?” I ask with a hand on his shoulder.
“ Yes, I just need some rest, perhaps a few minutes,” He whispers, as he plops on the bed closing his eyes. His body is so small in that large bed, it would be comical if not for the circumstances.
I walk to what looks to be a dresser and open it to see a lot of clothes of all different colors and designs. There are soft snores coming from behind me as I pick out an outfit. Before I do though I take off his top to cool him down, I can feel the golden embers float on my fingers. A blush heats my neck and I set aside those thoughts as I walk towards the window. Even though we’re both older now I could be rejected and besides with all this time in court he probably has someone of his interest.
A woman appears out of a door half startled at me sitting next to the Prince’s bed but she resumes her composure. She has blonde hair, brown eyes, and pale skin and she holds a bundle of clothing.
“ What is your business here, sir?” She asks and I see her ears aren’t as pointy as mine which is weird but I take little notice of it.
“ I came here to dress in coronation to the Queen’s invitation. Prince Nicholas allows me to be dressed in any outfit of his that sees fit,” I say and she still doesn’t believe me as she looks at the sleeping prince.
“ Why is he asleep then?”
“ He used teleportation to get us here, I guess it’s very conscientious,” I say walking towards her as she sets down the linens on the dresser.
“ That boy, I told him to use his teleportation at a limit, he will drain his powers for good if he doesn’t stop,” She says, shaking her head.
“ What do you mean?”
“ Sometimes, though very rarely an elf comes here seeking their gem only to find out it’s faulty. The wearer can still use their power, it’s just limited and will prevent them from becoming their truest form,” She says dusting his desk, careful of all the papers and the quill.
“ How often does it happen?” I ask, looking her straight in the eye.
“ The last time it has happened in this kingdom was 700 years ago and that person defected to another kingdom and reigned terror. That’s why the Queen has him under a watchful eye, to know his every move, to make sure he doesn’t spoil,” She responds and hands me a pile of clothing to change into.
It is a simple one, but rings out elegance as I place it against myself in the mirror. A cuffed white linen shirt, slim black trousers, red pirate shirt, and a pair of brown boots. I change into the outfit and pull my new long silky hair into a braid that ends at the small of my back.
Turning back towards the bed, Nicholas’ long red hair is splayed atop the pillow, his features soft like a dove’s. With no creases in his forehead, he still could pass off for a young teen if not for the height. His stature has filled out, even more muscly than the last time I remember but still wiry for me to know that it is Nicholas from my childhood. I wake him up, wincing at my actions because he jumps up with wide open eyes, taking a few breaths before realizing where he is.
“ You might want to change,” I say, placing a hand against his shoulder.
“ Why-?” He looks down at his sweat ridden clothes and mumbles something.
I walk outside to give him privacy and a few elves pass, a few girls and a boy around the age of nine. As they pass I look at their ears, all of them have long pointy ears while the boy could pass off for a human if not for his body unearthly glamorized. I’ve heard of stories where Elves either fathered or bore children with humans, and they were brought back. It still puzzles me as to why he is here but looks so much like a human but I put it aside as Nicolas walks out.
“ How will we get back lest we shall want to get spotted,” I say as we walk down the hall. He is wearing the same ensemble as me but with a deep blue vest in place of a green one.
“ We will have to teleport again,” He says looking down at my feet, “ It seems you have a liking towards my boots,” I turn my head to the side to see him laughing. It is like I have seen that smile before.
“ Have you an idea on where we are going?” I ask.
He does not respond but instead takes my arm and pulls me to a door, pushing me in as he follows. I start to speak but he places a finger against his lips and takes both of my arms again. We both close our eyes as I can feel the magic swirl around us in a residual position. I can taste flecks of gold on my tongue even with my eyes closed. I know we are there, in front of the bronze palace doors.
I am about to open the door when I feel Nicholas grasp onto my elbow.
“ Let me catch my breath, then we can go in together,” He rasps leaning his head on the door, with glassy eyes. I smooth a hand over his back looking at the moon and smile pitifully when I think of my sister. Even with the chilled night air warmth rises from my neck to my ears.
His eyes are on my face when he looks away towards the door instead.
“ What is it?” I ask, incredulously as he shakes his head looking back at me and places a stray strand of brown hair behind my ear.
“ You should smile more,” He says, opening the door and I follow into the ballroom. My breath quickens at the sight of thousands of people in all colors and extravagance as we move through the crowd, and they move away for us, startled. They all have masquerade masks on their faces and slightly intimidate me, like I’m in a horror novel with everyone looking directly upon us. I’ve never felt comfortable in confrontation or big crowds but that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Turning my gaze back to the front of me I see Cecile as she smiles at us, next to the throne with the Elvish Queen upon it.
She is dressed in a gown made of purple velvet with the sleeves long and flounced and the front is made of gold, she wears black slippers. Her dark brown locks are curled and placed in a simple bun atop her head with a flower crown completing the look. Unlike most here she has darker brown skin similar to my sister’s. She looks so much like her with her equally dark eyes.
“ My Queen,” Nicholas says bowing, “ This man was found just outside of Tratador, he is a newly born elf,”
I bow as well just as the Queen speaks, “ What is your name, for if you are to be apart of my court then I shall know it,”
“ Salvador Hutcherson, my Queen, it is a delight to meet you,” I say, feeling my breath quake from nervousness.
“ And I you. I suppose you shall receive the powers of an elf, to help you get used to this life,” She says, her voice booms as she walks to a pile of cases and brings one to me, opening the parsel. I unwrap it revealing a double hilt sword that has emblems of the Sun on it. Looking at it I can feel the cool press of silver and leather against my skin.
“ Take the weapon out and unsheath it, then you must take out the jewel so I can change you completely,” I do as told and hold a honey colored jem, and give the silver sword to Nicholas who gives a sideways glance. His face gives off a face I’ve seen so much in the eyes of prey.
I get upon my knees looking up at the chandelier above me as the Queen’s hand and the jem is atop my head. Her face is like that of honey but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes, instead an annoyed look is there. Trying to move my hands off the floor I can’t , it feels like invisible cuffs are holding me to the floor.
“ It’s just a precaution incase of aboriginals,” She says moving her hand closer to my head where I can feel the cool press of the gem and her hand against my forehead.
Flames lick from the top of my head to my feet in a synchronized rhythm, writhing around my body as I get raised up. Even with my eyes closed I can still see the light that shines brightly. It feels as if my body is burning, ash falls against my fingers singing the skin. Fire and smoke choke me and I scream from the pain of my aching bones and even more as my throat becomes raw. Red flames slither from me and my eyes open as I see them hit everyone, knocking them off their feet and I can hear the cries from some. Everything stops and I am dropped to the floor, Nicholas catches me, breathless as if he went through it himself. The light of my powers go away, locked in the gem I guess, but the burning and aching of my body is still there as both Cecile and Nicholas have to balance my so I stand.
“ That was more powerful than I expected it to be. The last time I saw that was with-” Nicholas does not get to finish his sentence when the Queen speaks up. I can hear a growl coming from him as his hand curl but he doesn’t do a thing as the Queen starts reading off the scroll.
“ Let us not speak of her for we have more troubling news. Lady Raven, hand me the scroll,” A women comes up to the throne to bring it as I slump into Nicholas’ arms, almost making him fall to the ground. I can hear my heart thump quickly in my chest.
“ Are you alright?” He whispers as I take gasping breaths still raspy from the embers and soot in my throat choking me.
“ I need a moment to catch my breath,” I say giving him a lazy smile feeling his chest beat against mine and I can feel his break shake.
“ As order of today there is a newly born elf whom was taken by the Dark Queen to serve as her own. Her name is Elina Hutcherson, daughter of Mariah Smith, whom has not received powers and is at the mercy of my sister, the Dark Queen. We are to stay away as not to start a war, and keep everlasting peace. It’s a risk and a suicide mission to send in even a battalion of the army to retreave a girl. Under no circumstance will the Tratador’s send any member of the army, if she’s there she was picked to stay there as is every elf when they’re newly reborn,” The Queen announces, I can feel the blood in my viens boil as I walk up the steps leading to her throne.
“ But my sister, she will be alone, and under the mind of an evil witch. If not for sending your legions, at the very least send me, this is my sister we are talking about, not just a toy you can throw away. I don’t care about the peace of elves, I care about the fact that my sister can get manipulated not to mention the condition she could be in. Please, my Queen, rethink your response, I beg you,” I say, and can feel my face contort into a frown, my lip quivers at the mention of her.
“ I am not, sending my soldiers, my people, who have families to retreive one person. Enduring the worst conditions to save a child compared to the thousands of soldier who will die. My answer is final, I will not send aide for I need my people to survive. It might be someone special to you but look at the silliness of this conquest. To travel all realms, hopefully not die, and keep your mind running enough to save your sister. I’m sorry but I herby it be prohibited to leave this city, no one is to go to the mountainous regions,” She booms, and I scowl before walking back to my place. Holding my tongue from cursing as I clench my jaw.
“ Perhaps, mother, Nicholas shall show Salvador the palace and to his quarters,” Cecile says placing a small hand against the Queen’s arm and she noticeably calms down.
“ That is a good idea, Cecile, you two are excused,” She says sweetly as Nicolas and I walk out. The air is cool and inviting, it feels like I can breath out here. We are teleported back to his room as I look out the window, placing my head against the glass.
“ It was a brave thing you did out there. Were it anyone else she would have had you locked up,” Nicholas says, taking off his vest as it is warm in here.
“ I was impulsive. Now, I will never see my sister so long as we follow the Queen’s orders,” I whisper, sitting on the window sill.
“ Unless you didn’t. You are a new elf so she will go lightly if you don’t listen to her. If we leave early enough we can slip through both the guards and the Queen and on our way to your sister by the break of dawn,” He say, and I agree walking towards him.
“ It is a deal?” I ask and he bows then looks back to me.
“ You have my word. Now we must start to get ready, for the trek ahead will be a long one,”
We get ready to leave, grabbing clothes from what seems all different regions and I look at them in awe.
“ It’s a useful trick of being able to teleport,” He says as he goes to his bed placing a much more useful outfit for being in the woods. A long red tunic, silver belt, black trousers, and what looks to be brown shoulder pads but to only one side. He pulls his long red hair into a bun before putting on a brown cloak and a taking a bow with a holster stocked full of arrows. What I wear is complete opposite, brown tunic, golden belt, white trousers, and a crossbow strapped to my back and leave my hair down before we leave with hoods concealing our faces.
Outside the palace gates we stalk the city, leaping from roofs, to pattering down alleyways.
There was a hiccup though, when a man walks up to us, pointedly knows those cyan eyes and starts spraying.
“ I found the Prince and a friend of his trying to sneak out. Looky here, I wonder where the freak’s trying to bring his next victim,” He says though his voice stinks of alchohol and it sounds more like hollaring as we are pushed agains the wall.
I watch Nicholas to see if he will do anything but it seems he’s a deer caught with a bow, eyes blown wide, and both his cheeks as well as his neck is visibly pink. The stoic gentleman I just watched earlier has reverted into a scared doe like when we were tots in school. He keeps gulping and it seems he wishes to transport into a puddle but it works weird outside the castle, like his magic is faulty.
My impulses can’t take it much longer as I punch one guy out cold and the other with bruised ribs as I take Nicholas by the arm to leap off shingles of rooftops again. As we’re sliding off of a rooftop I misstep and fall off the Dartercka resturant if not for his arm I would have broken a few ribs or mutilated myself.
Soon I see a lining of trees and sprint for it and we both rest close to each other for the chilly temperatures and protection.
This will end in flames.
(This is a work in progress)
wait so i’m reading lotr for the first time and in two towers they are doing the three hunters and it said that like legolas was sleeping with his eyes open or summin like is that a thing or did i read that wrong because he didn’t sleep at all he was keeping watch for them but when running apparently he was like asleep?
im so tired and over elves being conventionally attractive. why can’t i have elves who are frightening and tall, bony and scheletal, with bulging eyes and thin braided hair? like. 7 feet tall empathic beings with razor sharp teeth and a whimsical approach to life. like, less humanoid white people and more horrific ancient being. that would be sexy, me thinks
Day 24 #inktober - #dig
Christone like to dig through old items to remember past events.
Still working on my perspective drawings.
I torn between starting a new art-blog or keeping this one for my future scifi elf art
(I’m not gonna stop drawing skyrim elves tho)
“this line of thought has the blessing of being clear”, but it throws away half of the definitions in the best available text. Grundtvig:
Tolkien doesn’t like either (unsurprisingly)
Vanessa the Darkland Elf
time to get to that Tolkien vampire elves AU I’ve always wanted to write
A big part of Silmarillion is about consequences. About how everyone paid for their malice or their hubris or their greed. Everyone except the Valar apparently. When it comes to their messes, it’s brushed off as naiveté or ignorance or Eru’s music or whatever. They never paid for their own messes. This doesn’t mean the burden didn’t fall on someone else. Someone did pay. It was humans, dwarves, elves, even hobbits and random animals. It was everyone other than mighty Valar. They were powerful in the beginning. They remained powerful in the end.
Notinktober Day 23 - Major Arcana: The Devil
I had a bit of fun with this one… also late!
since i learned that silvans are actually descended from the teleri and not fully part of the avari, i can’t really stop thinking about legolas’s fate.
so i’m fairly certain that the teleri learned the art of sailing and making their swan ships before they set sail, which means that the nandor, who the silvans are descended from, would also have those skills. legolas, as a result, would also be able to make ships and sail them, though probably on a smaller scale as his encounters are with lakes and rivers, not the ocean.
before, i had thought it was really strange for legolas to be so affected by the sea-longing when he was a woodelf. even if he is part sindar, it wouldn’t mean he would automatically be called across the sea. i didn’t see a reason for it.
but the teleri are the “sea-elves”. and the nandor are those sea-elves who turned from the journey to valinor and went back.
and there’s just something both ironic and slightly tragic about a descendant of the nandor being pulled, once again, to valinor.
Solas resists the urge to lend wisdom to the King of Ferelden.
If you liked this, read more at Overheard at the Hanged Man
The elves are sacrificing a hind under the sapling they planted in the courtyard of Tarasyl’an Telas. Their Second is leading the song, Coran of Clan Boranehn. Though half are from the Edgehall alienage, they all know the song. Some are weeping. Imladris told him that they lost a fourth of the People, first from the arl’s attack, and then from the journey to Skyhall. Solas cannot understand the words, but he watches from the edge of the crowd. Many of the elvish servants and some soldiers join in.
A powerfully-built man with tapered ears joins him. Solas is surprised. It is the king of Ferelden, in plain clothes.
“You’re the Inquisition’s elvhen history expert, right?” Alistair asks. “Don’t you know the words?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t know this dialect.” It isn’t real, he thinks, it isn’t Elvhen, it is some corruption one thousand years after the fall of the People, when his lieutenants failed to rally the People together and they all fell in this catastrophe. He is living beyond the end of the world, and the language is grating. The mourning is grating. They do not even know what they have lost.
Alistair is infernally good-natured. “Ah, not Ferelden, are you?” The king sighs. “I’d like to join, you know, but, with the Chantry what it is–my mother’s there, at least. It’s a little too elvhen nationalist for the king to sing. But it goes something like this,” he begins to singsong, badly, “ the people, Mother, the people, they slaughter the deer…poor me, I will live far from here, but our day, Mother, our day, the People’s day, our day, spring is rising…” Solas raises an eyebrow, and Alistair smiles bashfully. “It’s much prettier in Dalish. I don’t know a single elf in Ferelden who doesn’t know this song. Except you, I suppose. Very old folk song. The Chantry doesn’t like it because it’s about the Halla Mother, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “you can’t keep us out of the Chantry and expect us to worship your god, you know?”
“A rather open-minded attitude for the sovereign of Ferelden to hold,” Solas comments. He has been the counsellor of kings before. He has little interest in maneuvering Ferelden through a religious reformation. Who has the time? The Blight is here. He shifts, hoping Alistair will leave. He should not have left the rotunda.
Alistair laughs a little, uncomfortable. “I’m not a king right now. Here, I’m an elf, a former servant of Arl Eamon, mourning the purging of Edgehall.”
“You may have the ears of the People,” Solas says sententiously, “but that does not mean you have the soul.” He thinks to himself: you’re beginning to sound like your own father, graybeard, and that was a pedantic thing to tell a petty king, but why should I humble myself before a shadow? I have been humbled enough. I am here. I will not let the People lose its definition. We are more than a pair of pointed ears, and unending public grief.
“Ugh, you’re one of those,” Alistair says. “And you’re not even Dalish.” He shakes his head and walks into the crowd, putting an arm around Fiona. Solas watches the elves mourn and feels his skin crawl with his own pettiness. They are empty, dreamless, fleeting, aping rituals their ancestors long forgot. They are less real than the certainty of Skyhold, sharp and sturdy regardless of the Veil. They might breathe, they might sing, they even pull at the Veil like a child clinging to their parent’s robes, but they cannot cause the land to bleed with their grief. They cannot sing spring into rebirth and set the seasons right. What the People are has been lost. These little folk songs will not restore it. Solas turns around, thinking: there is much to do, so little time. But it cannot be lost. It will not end with me. It cannot be lost.