"I see," she answers, at length, and her hands slow on the loom. She knew something of Corypheus, of his link to all of the chaos and the shadow that spread through Thedas, but she hadn't considered him to be the face of the enemy. It was a strange thing, that she hadn't made that connection, and her focus suffers as she does.

"There was a time, before the ancient smiths wound their power into weapons, when all they made was meant to bring light into the world," she explains and smooths her hands over the strands of wool as one might slide fingers over harp strings. He cannot see Nenya on her hand, but she stares at it as she speaks. "Their arts were meant to grant peace and joy to those who looked upon them, to preserve power, or beauty, or sentiment.

"The weapons they fashioned were beyond compare, truly, but I cannot instruct you in their creation. Those are skills I do not know. Fortunately...for what you wish to accomplish, you will require no weapons. In this, there are no who still live who can surpass me."

She lowers her hands, despite the haste with which she'd worked, and turns a curious eye on Alejandro. She stares for some long time before she speaks again and, when she does, it almost doesn't make sense.

"Do you care for music? Or for sculpture? Have you a love of gems and faceted stone? Of gardens or building?"