(Untitled)

[igetthatalot]

Dwarves, according to most depictions thereof, are short, stocky, bearded folk with a fondness for tunnels and mining and dwarven beer. Varric, by these standards, is a very bad dwarf. He has the short and stocky part down, yes, but he does not so much have a beard as he has manly stubble and epic chest hair, and he'll be the first to tell you that

Comments

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel can sympathize - according to some, elves are either something like pixies who hide under leaves and may or may not have wings, or they are slave labor to a fat human in a frozen wasteland. Neither option sounds very appealing.

Besides, a glass of Dorwinion is so much better than the theoretically 'traditional' milk and cookies.

Though he is making a face about the smoke. The smoke is fairly rank

[igetthatalot]

Varric catches the look and offers a wry response of, "I'll take it outside in a minute. There are some things I don't want to forget before I hit the baths."

It's not really his ideal either, but what can you do.

[gondolin_noble]

"The water will wash away your memories?" Glorfindel asks, teasingly curious. Who knows? Maybe he's discovered something new about dwarves!

[igetthatalot]

"Hardly. But when it comes to the fine details of a really impressive battle, the best thing to do is to get them all written down as soon as you can, while they're still fresh," says Varric. "True, the stories that people wind up telling afterwards usually bear about as much resemblance to the truth as a Mabari hound does to a nug, but at least you started from something accurate. It can't be helped if later tale-tellers just have to embroider on the facts."

[calledgreenleaf]

Legolas is not as suspicious as some of his kin about the dwarven race (he finds some of their creations intriguing, and is young enough to feel the distance of myth from the worst of the dwarven betrayal), but that does not make him unsuspicious.

He's at the Bar when Varric orders, curiousity piqued, though he does not yet interrupt him. It's not until later, when Varric is arranging his papers, that stops behind the chair opposite Varric to catch his attention. He's carrying a small wineskin and two glasses, just in case.

"Legolas, of the Great Forest,” he says, tilting in a slight bow - though not quite as casual as those he tends to use with the patrons of Milliways. “May I join you?”

[igetthatalot]

"Can't say I've heard of the place," says Varric as he looks up. He does return the bow, though, before gesturing to the opposite seat at his table. "Make yourself at home. Varric Tethras, of the city of Kirkwall. Pleasure to meet you, messere."

[calledgreenleaf]

"Neither have I heard of Kirkwall," he admits, tilting his head in thanks as he sits. He sets the cups and wineskin on the table. "And the pleasure is mine in return. You will forgive, I hope," he says, glancing up, "my overhearing. But your companion has a dragon slain?

[igetthatalot]

"So far, I haven't met anybody here I didn't know already who has heard of the place," says Varric, "so you're not alone. And, yes, Hawke took out a dragon. The blasted thing had taken up residence in a mine up the Wounded Coast from Kirkwall. It wasn't the only one, either- just the oldest one we found. Which... probably means there's a high dragon out there, with our luck."

[igetthatalot]

"Just a moment."

Varric doesn't like to stop writing until he's at the end of a line or the end of a sentence. Disrupts his chain of thought. Fortunately it doesn't take long to get to that point, and he looks up. "Sorry about that," he says. "How can I help you?"

[igetthatalot]

"That obvious, huh?" says Varric. "I suppose I can't blame you for noticing. WHat kind of help would we be talking about here?"