Her eyes move to the pouch, which she takes gently, since that is the way Morrigan is handing it to her. But her gaze lifts when Morrigan mentions an aravel. Funny; Ellana has already been giving her future some thought, and she plans to travel most of the time. By herself, she assumes, because she doesn't know who would go with her. An aravel doesn't factor into her plans, but the word reminds her that she does want to return to the clan from time to time, if they'll permit it. The Keeper allows Gavin to return, so why not her?

"Ma serannas," she says before even opening the gift, knowing she doesn't need to translate that for Morrigan as she does for other people. She carefully tips the pouch into her open palm, eyes lighting up at the carved bits of wood. The tree branches and vines are reminiscent of her vallaslin, and remind her of Mythal. Then she turns the poem right side round so she can read it.

"Oh, this is-- it's elven?" Ellana looks up with a hopeful expression. "I've never heard it before! It's beautiful." Her lips press together and tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she tries her best not to actually start crying. She reads over the words again. They sound so powerful; from a time long past. They remind her of the story Galadriel told her of the trees of light in her homeland, and how they were destroyed, and the light forever dimmed.