The next reading she gives him is not a book at all. Instead it is a rambling quasi letter-essay of her own writing, which goes on for ten front and back pages in Wysteria's (frankly) lovely handwriting ruminating in the connective tissue between a selection of five of his carefully recorded Ferelden stories with a series of similar from Orlais. Questions posed (and debated) include: The effect of the Orlesian occupation on stories passed down from Almarri oral traditions; where in this do the Avvar figure?; how significant is it that these stories has assumed Orlesian traits, but the reverse seems so much less common?
(A note in the margins alongside that last bit: 'Mr. Ellis, Have you known a single Orlesian who wasn't at least a little dreadful?')
Towards the ends, the essay once more turns into a letter. It says:
P.S. Do you enjoy poetry, Mr. Ellis? I read a piece by TatervallianTantaven Tantervalen (?) Chantry Brother who evidently spent his boyhood traveling and some of the lines reminded me pleasantly of that field trip we took last week with Mr. Stark and Mr. Fitz, that week end when the weather was so pleasant and Mr. Stark arranged to nearly fall off that cliff. I have copied it on the facing page and marked the lines.
(They are in relation to the weather, less so the cliff. In case you were concerned.)
Without complaint, Ellis reads all ten (technically twenty) pages of Wysteria's analysis. He considers whether or not the library has some kind of instructional book on interrogating hidden meaning in literature, if only so he has something worthwhile to contribute to what may or may not be an ongoing project.
He folds her essay in threes, poem turned and set on the top of the stack so as to be the first thing one saw when they opened the pages, and puts it with the rest of Wysteria's letters.
There is a minor setback in the delivery of his next recommendation. He came by a long Nevarran tale written all in verse that felt suitable and potentially interesting (based on his instincts and vague grasp of the points she'd raised in her essay) at a bookstall. Purchasing it is no trouble, but he's caught in a downpour on his way back to the Gallows, and when he removes his coat the book is so sodden it comes apart in his hands.
Cue another week searching, until he comes across another copy by chance while lagging behind Fitz on a search for a certain chemical that Ellis suspects will prove the need for completion of that vent in Wysteria's cellar sooner rather than later.
He sets the book down on the table at her elbow before he takes his place at the other end of the table. The slightly crumpled note poking out of the pages reads:
Wysteria,
I haven't read this one myself, but the bookseller told me it was about a man far from his country and his many travels and discoveries on his way back to his home, children and wife. It's a long poem, and not as evocative of our life as your selection, but the description was engaging.
The book is forgotten over the course of the small war being waged over the table on the subject of low level Fade-iation emission levels from rift shards. It's only once the evening has resolved, their party dispersed, that she realizes the book is there at all.
It is a very long poem, containing enough references to Nevarran literature with which she is unfamiliar enough as to warrant a little extracurricular reading alongside it. While she is reading, the weather finally begins to clear. The house's library, long dismantled, is at last put to rights. She borrows a modest sum of money from a lender in Kirkwall to cover her monthly payment to the Viscount's office in the interest of resolving the administrative costs of the estate and the continued investment of her solicitor to oversee the former. Someone defaces all the newly installed mail cubbies in the Gallows. In sum: the usual assortment of things.
When at last she returns the book, it is in the company of a little chapter book of farmer's prayers which are variations of good luck wishes and old wives tale superstition as much as they are anything to do with Andraste or the Maker.
The accompanying note is simple. On one side it reads:
Mr. Ellis,
I think these are very sweet. Please enjoy them.
Sincerely, W.A. Poppell
And on the other, as if she thought to write it only after having trimmed the note, it asks:
At some point, he probably should have anticipated the question. Tony has seemed content not to ask too much about Ellis' history and relations, and Wysteria has been happy to talk about a wide range of things that do not include familial ties, but inevitably the thought would occur one of them that Ellis may actually have relations here. But still, he isn't prepared. (And in the end, tucks the note away with the rest, and does not consult it when he begins to draft his reply.)
He has a few days to consider it. There are three days of chilly, drizzly weather in which Ellis is charged with leading drills in the training yard. Progress on the vent out of Wysteria's root cellar awaits a part that Tony has ordered, and clearing out the attic ends in a minor flurry of knick-knacks flung at all three of them when Ellis and Fitz try to shift an armoire towards the staircase.
Three books are drawn out of the breast pocket of Ellis' coat before he follows Fitz out the door. He puts them directly into Wysteria's hands, and promises to finish up with the armoire in the morning. The note is tucked between the returned copy of epic Nevarran poetry, the book of prayers, and the very latest serial out of Orlais about a noblewoman posing as a knight to win the hand of her lady love.
Wysteria,
Please add the Nevarran poetry to your library. I don't have enough room for a library in my quarters in the Gallows, and I think you'll make better use of the book than I will. (We'll fix the rest of the shelves next week.)
The prayer book was charming, as you said. I've had little time to visit the bookseller stalls, but if I happen across it I know of one collection of Marcher devotions that is comparable. I know how you enjoy making connections in your reading. In the meantime, I borrowed this serial from one of the guards I've been on rotation with. You'll have to tell me if it's as riveting as he claimed.
— Ellis
There is nothing noted on the back, nor any postscript.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(A note in the margins alongside that last bit: 'Mr. Ellis, Have you known a single Orlesian who wasn't at least a little dreadful?')
Towards the ends, the essay once more turns into a letter. It says:
no subject
He folds her essay in threes, poem turned and set on the top of the stack so as to be the first thing one saw when they opened the pages, and puts it with the rest of Wysteria's letters.
There is a minor setback in the delivery of his next recommendation. He came by a long Nevarran tale written all in verse that felt suitable and potentially interesting (based on his instincts and vague grasp of the points she'd raised in her essay) at a bookstall. Purchasing it is no trouble, but he's caught in a downpour on his way back to the Gallows, and when he removes his coat the book is so sodden it comes apart in his hands.
Cue another week searching, until he comes across another copy by chance while lagging behind Fitz on a search for a certain chemical that Ellis suspects will prove the need for completion of that vent in Wysteria's cellar sooner rather than later.
He sets the book down on the table at her elbow before he takes his place at the other end of the table. The slightly crumpled note poking out of the pages reads:
no subject
It is a very long poem, containing enough references to Nevarran literature with which she is unfamiliar enough as to warrant a little extracurricular reading alongside it. While she is reading, the weather finally begins to clear. The house's library, long dismantled, is at last put to rights. She borrows a modest sum of money from a lender in Kirkwall to cover her monthly payment to the Viscount's office in the interest of resolving the administrative costs of the estate and the continued investment of her solicitor to oversee the former. Someone defaces all the newly installed mail cubbies in the Gallows. In sum: the usual assortment of things.
When at last she returns the book, it is in the company of a little chapter book of farmer's prayers which are variations of good luck wishes and old wives tale superstition as much as they are anything to do with Andraste or the Maker.
The accompanying note is simple. On one side it reads:
And on the other, as if she thought to write it only after having trimmed the note, it asks:
no subject
He has a few days to consider it. There are three days of chilly, drizzly weather in which Ellis is charged with leading drills in the training yard. Progress on the vent out of Wysteria's root cellar awaits a part that Tony has ordered, and clearing out the attic ends in a minor flurry of knick-knacks flung at all three of them when Ellis and Fitz try to shift an armoire towards the staircase.
Three books are drawn out of the breast pocket of Ellis' coat before he follows Fitz out the door. He puts them directly into Wysteria's hands, and promises to finish up with the armoire in the morning. The note is tucked between the returned copy of epic Nevarran poetry, the book of prayers, and the very latest serial out of Orlais about a noblewoman posing as a knight to win the hand of her lady love.There is nothing noted on the back, nor any postscript.