[She has known of much violence both in her first years and her last. Wolves. Monsters. Raging dwarves and terrible men. To say nothing of the orcs and twisted creatures of Angband and that Morgoth and Sauron’s shadow loomed large over her kingdom for the centuries before its fall. She has known of it, but never had to cause it herself. She is soft and tired and a bit of that weariness creeps into her expression when she hears Thoth accidentally, or perhaps “accidentally” mentions Set is also the god of Violence. Tulkos might have been better suited to being here than she, and yet…]

I am no lover of war. I was born before the sun where everything was dangerous, and I have spent centuries in the shadow of war, of darkness and death. I do not even carry my sword. [There is her very finely crafted bow that is slung over her shoulder and the corresponding quiver, as well as a few small knifes but she carried them for hunting or on the off chance she was surrounded by orcs. Mithiel had no intention of ever starting a fight if she could avoid it. It was not in her nature.]

…Your brother? [It feels like she shouldn’t ask but it slips out before she can press her lips closed.]

If you will have me, I am grateful. I am happy to tell you as much as I can. It has been long since I have had time to talk or do anything other than try to save my people and their works.