But after that moment passes he does look at Thranduil—a quick sideways glance and obvious click of understanding effort his attention returns to the mage. Orders. Right. It isn't Thranduil's fault; Thranduil doesn't really know him.
Anyway: "Try to keep count of the archers," he says. The mage is the bigger and louder threat, but from what Alistair knows of the Dalish—it wasn't their mages they sent to Denerim. Herian is making her attempt at placating them. Alistair likes the Dalish as a people well enough to keep his hand off the hilt of his sword, for that long. Only his shield (small but serviceable thank you) to fend off potential arrows where he's risked sticking his head out from around his chosen tree. "We can swing around behind him." The mage. "They'll be able to hold him, if they can't stop him. The boy's a Templar. You can tell because he doesn't smi—"
No banter allowed. He's cut off by an arrow embedding in the upper edge of his shield.
I'm sorry I'm here
So there goes that moment.
But after that moment passes he does look at Thranduil—a quick sideways glance and obvious click of understanding effort his attention returns to the mage. Orders. Right. It isn't Thranduil's fault; Thranduil doesn't really know him.
Anyway: "Try to keep count of the archers," he says. The mage is the bigger and louder threat, but from what Alistair knows of the Dalish—it wasn't their mages they sent to Denerim. Herian is making her attempt at placating them. Alistair likes the Dalish as a people well enough to keep his hand off the hilt of his sword, for that long. Only his shield (small but serviceable thank you) to fend off potential arrows where he's risked sticking his head out from around his chosen tree. "We can swing around behind him." The mage. "They'll be able to hold him, if they can't stop him. The boy's a Templar. You can tell because he doesn't smi—"
No banter allowed. He's cut off by an arrow embedding in the upper edge of his shield.