Mixed in with her regular speech are words that translate poorly, if at all, though he imagines it was much the same for him, and still is to those who overhear his conversation with his kin. But he follows—

“That will be difficult,” he says, and thinks of the Galadhrim, and those in Imaldris, who so often refrain from meat, and then his own little cohort in Mirkwood, who make use of the spiders. “The Gallows are mostly stone. Most of our furniture is wood. If you eat in our mess, expect a good deal of grain and filler—we are not wealthy enough to serve meat at every meal, especially with the winter and war.”

However she plans to smoke her kills—it occurs to him vaguely that she might use dung-fires—she will need to do it outside, but she seems the reasonable sort. “I wish you luck—and with us so close to Orlais, I suppose you might manage to live off cheese.”