Fanuilos, le linnathon

[mythalenaste]

WHO: Pel and Thranduil
WHAT: Summary of content
WHEN: Timing (backdated, covering a span, etc.)
WHERE: Location
NOTES: Content warnings, OOC notes, links to other relevant posts, etc.

Pel slings a satchel over her shoulder and takes off toward where the halla are being kept, outside Skyhold's walls. Out of the library, down the stairs. She doesn't make small talk. She doesn't appreciate talking without having anything to say.

She maintains a quick pace to keep up with Thranduil's much longer legs. And just so she's not completely rude, she takes two peaches out of her satchel. One, she bites into and holds with her teeth. The other, she offers to Thranduil. Food is hospitality. Sharing food is something sacred, almost, because food is not taken for granted by the Dalish the way it is by city folk. The Dalish have to work for everything they have. Offering some of it up is a real gesture. But not talking. Pel does not like unnecessary talk.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

She’s quiet. Chillily so, unexpected from one of the Dalish, who have so far been kind enough to humor his and Galadriel's questions and presence. Perhaps he might have been better off asking Beleth, or Cyril—but it matters little now, because she’s asking him to follow, and has been kind enough to offer him food as well. The peach is sun-warm and juicy; he savors the taste as he takes a bite as he hurries after her, minding the imperfect paving as they go down into the valley. The heat makes him glad for the tunic and breeches.

Where before he might have made conversation—who minds the halla, when is breeding season, how do they structure the herds?-- he keeps silent, and watches.

[mythalenaste]

Pel reaches the pen first, and opens it, inviting Thranduil in with a gesture. This one's not too bad. No unnecessary chatter. But no questions about the halla, either, which wouldn't count as unnecessary chatter, as they are here for the purpose of meeting the halla. When they are both inside, she reaches for one and draws it near with a few warm words of elven--a rather warmer greeting than she gave Thranduil. Animals are not people, and so she warms to them a great deal more easily.

"They're prey animals, so don't stand right in front or right behind. To the side, they can see you. Treat him with respect and don't paw at him. Make him an offer and let him accept. Just like dealing with people."

[rowancrowned]

He finishes the peach, tucks the stone and stem into his pocket, and offers his palm to one of the halla. It's flat, no errant fingers that might resemble carrots. The juice from the peach makes his hand sticky, and maybe that's what draws them as he drops into a crouch and lets one lick at his palm.

(He's rather fond of deer, in general.)

It regards him with large, black eyes, and humbles itself enough to lick his palm.

"Are the designs for the bucks different from that of the does?" He speaks, of course, to Pel, but keeps his eyes on the halla.

[mythalenaste]

"Their antlers?" That's the only thing she can think of that he could mean. She shakes her head. "No. And generally you're limited to what the halla allow anyway. It doesn't hurt them at all, but they know what you're doing and have opinions on it like anyone would. Nobody chose my vallaslin for me."

[rowancrowned]

"Yes," he says, patient, allowing the buck to nuzzle at his sleeves, wondering if the peach juice means a peach for him, somewhere. He's wrong, but Thranduil is glad to allow him the illusion, now stroking his neck.

What the halla allow- he will have to ask Beleth, or Ellana.

"Mythal, yes?" In the interest of making conversation. She's done him the kindness of bringing him here, he is obliged to return it. And he's always curious and eager enough to speak with the Dalish.

[mythalenaste]

She blinks at him owlishly--his comment is, perhaps, a bit oddly placed--and moves on.

"They're intelligent as we are. They have opinions. And they're as much a part of the clan as the elves. The trick is learning how to listen to them."

[rowancrowned]

He corrects himself easily, between strokes along the halla's head, between the buds of his horns. "Your vallaslin are for Mythal."

He's able to tell them apart- Mythals's seem the most popular, among the elves in Skyhold, but he knows too little to make a conclusion.

"In Arda, I might have spoken with them as easily as I speak with you. Now, I fear their voices to be quieter."

Not silences, but harder to hear. This one, though, he makes his needs known easily. A scratch, a kind hand, the remains of a peach.

[mythalenaste]

There's a dumbfounded sort of pause from Pel.

"Their voices are just fine," she says, somewhat offended. "And I know my own vallaslin, thank you. But we didn't come here to talk about you, or me. You wanted to meet the halla, didn't you?"

[rowancrowned]

He forgives her. She is young, it is easy to brush aside her rudeness and blame it upon the foolishness of her age and what the Dalish must do to survive. "I think," he says softly, still stroking the halla, watching a doe risk another step closer to him now that the buck has determined he is not a threat. "-that you might have other matters far more important and pleasurable to you than watching me meet the halla. If I might beg trust and friendship enough to be left alone with them- I give you my word that no harm will come to them."

[mythalenaste]

A completely bewildered squint. He has been condescending the last few times he has spoken, now he's patting her head and telling her to run along when she's taken offense.

"No," she says flatly. "You've been told not to visit without one of the Dalish, and you'll respect that. Now I'm sorry if I was rude, but so were you. My vallaslin is a personal subject, and it's condescending to tell me there's something wrong with our halla just because you can't hear them."

[rowancrowned]

He gives the buck a final gentle scratch before standing, idly dusting off the knees of his pants. Thranduil exits the pen; rests his hand on the top of it. "I am afraid I do not yet fully grasp the manners of Thedas, and must plead ignorance and beg clarification. I did not question your choice of vallaslin, only sought clarification as to the god for my own benefit. As for the halla- I mourn for our mutual inability to communicate with them as we should. It is no fault of theirs, but rather our ears that are deafened due to the state of the world. As Dalish, I thought you might have a better understanding of how things ought to be with them."

Here, his gaze softens. "You have never lived in a world with things as they ought to be."

[mythalenaste]

Pel is...still bewildered. Is this how city elves feel when the Dalish tell them how things ought to be? It's bringing to light some of her own attitude toward city elves, as if she can bring light into the darkness by showing them how to be elves. It's an attitude she has been trying to shed, but this has put a real nail in that coffin.

"There's nothing wrong with us just because we don't remind you of yourself," she says slowly. She's not angry, just surprised she's having to say this at all. "We like our ways. And the halla teach us that we have to learn continually, and listen continually."

Pel has never felt that the elves are lesser for not being what they were in the days of Arlathan. Maybe she is outclan now, but she loved clan life. She is proud that she has earned and worked for everything she has.

"I know you must feel very strange here," she says gently. "Very alien. And I'm sorry for you. But you and I have no kinship. If you have questions, I'm happy to answer them, but please don't try to teach me about being an elf. It's presumptuous."

[rowancrowned]

He lifts his hand from the fence, and settles both against the small of his back, inclines his head in polite acknowledgement and steps back. "As you like," he murmurs, taking her attitude in stride.

"Thank you for the peach," Thranduil he says, raising his head to look at her. "By your leave?"

She's made it clear from the start she didn't want company, and saw the task as a difficulty. Why then, he wonders, did she offer?