faderift | [open] concerning hobbits

WHO: Samwise Gamgee and EVERYONE HE CAN FIND
WHAT: Sam's arrived at Skyhold and is exploring! Also asking questions. All the questions.
WHEN: After arriving from the Fallow Mire
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Feel free to meet Sam in any part of Skyhold! He'll be all over.

He'd tried to stick close to who he'd already started privately thinking of as his new friends - the other Sam and the wizard Twisted Fate. He'd even glimpsed, once or twice, the Man who'd pulled him out of the Mire in the first place, and saved him from being drownded. But the road from the Fallow Mire had been long, and Sam had spent much of it on his own, tucked away in small corners of wagons or sitting astride horses alongside dwarves, being too short to walk and have a hope of keeping up.

And when they'd arrived at last, he'd found himself suddenly left completely to his own devices.

Skyhold. He rolls the word around in his mind, staring up, up at the battlements and the clouds beyond. It's a good enough name for the place, he supposes, being up in the mountains as it is. And there's something in it that appeals to him - it's not quite Elvish, not quite Rivendell or Lothlórien, but it's a bit more fanciful than Hobbiton or Bywater, he thinks. As for the place itself, he finds himself a bit overwhelmed - not only with the size (which is enormous in its own right, apart from everything in it being built proportionate to Big People), but with the ceaseless activity and the seemingly endless places to explore and get lost in.

He finds the kitchen first, hobbit-senses guiding him true, but after he's snacked his fill he finds himself wanting to explore more, and he steps carefully down the stairs into the yard. There are folk of all shapes and sizes everywhere (though nobody he recognizes), and he takes a deep breath before walking forward, not quite sure where he's going.

There are Elves here; he knows that much. If nothing else, perhaps the Elves will know more about what's happened and why he's come here. Perhaps they'll at least know Gandalf's name.

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Ellana can't help but chuckle softly at his innocence. Part of it can surely be explained by the fact that he's a rifter, but she assumes the other part is just him, thinking it's as easy as people suddenly treating elves fairly.

She wishes it were so, because it's nice to dream.

"Well, let's talk of brighter things now. Anything you have in mind?"

He's taken off guard by the request, and it shows in the way he hesitates, looking a bit blindsided. An Elf, offering to talk about anything he might wish to, and letting him choose? It's almost too much to hope for.

"I don't suppose," he says shyly, at last, "you have any happier tales of the Elves you might be willing to tell? Or any - any songs, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid to say that all our songs written in elven are about sorrow and loss," she says, wearing an apologetic smile. But she's also one who doesn't like the sound of her own singing voice. She only sings with her clansmate Merrick, or under very rare circumstances, because she doesn't want anyone to hear her. Maybe with time and encouragement, she'll be more open to it.

"But happier tales? Hmm." She needs to take a moment because all that are coming to mind have death and destruction in them. All of them. It's enough to depress a person, but finally she recalls one to tell him.

"There are evil creatures in this world called darkspawn. They are corrupted beings, and their blood does the same to others. Once, long ago, one of the Dalish clans fled from a group of darkspawn, but no matter where they went, the darkspawn followed. Finally, the clan's leader, Iloren, stopped his people. He said they would stand and fight, but they would be clever about it. And so before the darkspawn arrived, the clan gathered dried grass, brush, and anything else they could that would burn, laying it out all around their camp. When the darkspawn came, hungry for chaos and death, Iloren used his magic to call down lightning upon the brush, which lit and engulfed all the darkspawn, sparing his clan."

Sam listens intently, watching Ellana with a rapt expression. He's always loved tales of Elves, and he's taken some comfort in the thought that if everything is new and different here, at least that means stories he hasn't heard before.

But when Ellana finishes her tale, all Sam can do is stare at her for a moment, blinking uncertainly. Oh. That story...well. It hadn't been what he'd expected, that's all. A bit more corruption and death than he'd hoped for.

"Well...thank you," he says, finally, and ponders a minute more, trying to find something good to say. "I...I'm glad the clan was saved. And that Iloren was so wise - though I wouldn't want to clean up after that fire," he adds.

Since he takes so long to form a response, the only thing she can take away from it is that he didn't like the tale. Perhaps it's a cultural difference. The elves celebrate their victories because there are so few.

"They would have moved on again," Ellana answers. "They were far in the Anderfels, a desolate land of desert. Once the darkspawn were defeated, they would have traveled back to more hospitable lands."

"It doesn't seem a very nice place," he mutters. "Full of these - darkspawn creatures." He frowns. Her description of darkspawn, unsurprisingly, reminds him of Orcs, making him shiver. And he still can't wrap his head around the concept of Elves on the run, without a safe and beautiful home to retreat to. "Wouldn't it have been better not to go to such a horrid place to begin with?"

Edited 2015-12-16 19:46 (UTC)

"They had no choice," she answers gently. "We Dalish do not have permanent homes. We live in camps, and move to where there is food, or where there aren't hostile humans closing in on us. It's the way it's been since the fall of the Dales."

Ellana looks off into the distance for a moment, deep in thought, before she turns her attention back to Sam. "Between just us? I have long wished to have a permanent home with a roof over my head. But tradition is hard to break and my people don't feel the same."

Sam bows his head with a troubled frown. She'd said as much, but it's still hard to think of - Elves without a home, Elves camping in the wild and marching from place to place to avoid those who would do them harm.

He looks up in surprise, his brow drawing down in confusion. "Not feel the same?" he repeats. The prospect of anyone wanting to live in such a way is even harder to grasp than that of Elves needing to. "Why would they not want a home? Somewhere safe and warm and comfortable to rest their heads?"

"It's a complicated thing," she admits. "And I can hardly speak for everyone and their personal reasons, but at a guess, it's because it goes against tradition. We've lived in wandering clans for hundreds upon hundreds of years. It's what we know."

She gets the sense that the honest truth she's told him has turned out being rather depressing. Such is the way of things for the elves.

"But let's not talk of that anymore. Are you in the mood for a walk? We could walk around and see what everyone else is up to."

[ ooc: we could wrap it up now if you'd like? ]

Sam nods, not without a bit of relief. As much as he likes hearing about Elves, and as curious as he is to hear more of what had happened to him here, and what they were like, it's all a bit much, and darker and drearier than he'd hoped.

"Yes, if you please," he says, only a touch over-eagerly. "I haven't seen much of anything - a bit afeared of getting lost, if you want the truth." He stretches a bit, then looks up attentively, waiting for Ellana to lead the way.

[ ooc: sounds good! ]

[open] concerning hobbits

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