Her tirade was telling, though somewhat more reserved than the word implied, and Galadriel listened carefully as she spoke. Though she claimed no kinship to the Dalish, such vehemence was rarely born of empathy alone. Before Galadriel could contemplate her too deeply, Leliana reined herself in. She fell silent, drew herself up, and blanked the look of contempt from her features.

The fire crackled between them but there was no whisper of a knife--Galadriel had paused her work and turned her full attention to the human. Even now, with silence between them, she did not resume her work.

"Why?" Galadriel asked in a polite tone, one that was very nearly casual, and quirked a brow. "You've said nothing that begs forgiving."

Galadriel shifted her work in her lap and rested her hands atop the stripped branch. To carve a bow now or let it rest would make no difference in the end; she decided to indulge her curiosity and focus on Leliana rather than spend half of her focus in crafting.

"Indeed, I can think of few oaths you could have given that would have better earned my regard," Galadriel added. "You are curious; surely you did not simply wish to commend me for my love of the Dalish. If you wish to know of me, ask and I shall tell you."