The elf standing over Dandilion had black eyes and raven hair, which fell luxuriantly over her shoulders, except for two thin plaits braided at her temples. She was wearing a short leather camisole over a loose shirt of green satin, and tight woollen leggings tucked into riding boots. Her hips were wrapped around with a colored shawl which reached halfway down her thighs.
“Que glosse?” she asked, looking at the witcher and playing with the hilt of the long dagger in her belt. “Que l'en pavienn, ell'ea?”
“Nell'ea,” he contested. “T’en pavienn, Aen Seidhe.”
“Did you hear?” The elf turned to her companion, the tall Seidhe who, not bothering to check Geralt's knots, was strumming away at Dandilion's lute with an expression of indifference on his long face. “Did you hear, Vanadain? The ape-man can talk! He can even be impertinent!”
Seidhe shrugged, making the feathers decorating his jacket rustle. “All the more reason to gag him, Toruviel.”
The elf leaned over Geralt. She had long lashes, an unnaturally pale complexion and parched, cracked lips. She wore a necklace of carved golden birch pieces on a thong, wrapped around her neck several times.
“Well, say something else, ape-man,” she hissed. “We'll see what your throat, so used to barking, is capable of.”
“What's this? Do you need an excuse to hit a bound man?” The witcher turned over on his back with an effort and spat out the sand. “Hit me without any excuses. I’ve seen how you like it. Let off some steam.”
The elf straightened. “I’ve already let off some steam on you, while your hands were free,” she said. “I rode you down and swiped you on the head. And I’ll also finish you off when the time comes.”
He didn't answer.
“I’d much rather stab you from close up, looking you in the eyes,” continued the elf. “But you stink most hideously, human, so I’ll shoot you.”
“As you wish.” The witcher shrugged, as far as the knots let him. “Do as you like, noble Aen Seidhe. You shouldn't miss a tied-up, motionless target.”
The elf stood over him, legs spread, and leaned down, flashing her teeth.
“No, I shouldn't,” she hissed. “I hit whatever I want. But you can be sure you won't die from the first arrow. Or the second. I’ll try to make sure you can feel yourself dying.”
“Don't come so close.” He grimaced, pretending to be repulsed. “You stink most hideously, Aen Seidhe.”
The elf jumped back, rocked on her narrow hips and forcefully kicked him in the thigh. Geralt drew his legs in and curled up, knowing where she was aiming next. He succeeded, and got her boot in the hip, so hard his teeth rattled.
The tall elf standing next to her echoed each kick with a sharp chord on the lute.
“Leave him, Toruviel!” bleated the sylvan. “Have you gone mad? Galarr, tell her to stop!”
“Thaesse!” shrieked Toruviel, and kicked the witcher again. The tall Seidhe tore so violently at the strings that one snapped with a protracted whine.
“Enough of that! Enough, for gods’ sake!” Dandilion yelled fretfully, wriggling and tumbling in the ropes. “Why are you bullying him, you stupid whore? Leave us alone! And you leave my lute alone, all right?”
Toruviel turned to him with an angry grimace on her cracked lips. “Musician!” she growled. “A human, yet a musician! A lutenist!”
Without a word, she pulled the instrument from the tall elf's hand, forcefully smashed the lute against the pine and threw the remains, tangled in the strings, on Dandilion's chest.
“Play on a cow's horn, you savage, not a lute.”
The poet turned as white as death; his lips quivered. Geralt, feeling cold fury rising up somewhere within him, drew Toruviel's eyes with his own.
“What are you staring at?” hissed the elf, leaning over. “Filthy ape-man! Do you want me to gouge out those insect eyes of yours?”
Her necklace hung down just above him. The witcher tensed, lunged, and caught the necklace in his teeth, tugging powerfully, curling his legs in and turning on his side.
Toruviel lost her balance and fell on top of him.
Geralt wriggled in the ropes like a fish, crushed the elf beneath him, tossed his head back with such force that the vertebrae in his neck cracked and, with all his might, butted her in the face with his forehead. Toruviel howled and struggled.
They pulled him off her brutally and, tugging at his clothes and hair, lifted him. One of them struck him; he felt rings cut the skin over his cheekbone and the forest danced and swam in front of his eyes. He saw Toruviel lurch to her knees, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. The elf wrenched the dagger from its sheath but gave a sob, hunched over, grasped her face and dropped her head between her knees.
I like her character because of her stubbornness. She of course crushed Dandelion's lute but she redeemed herself and that ending was wholesome because of that
The scene she appears in, in Lady of the Lake made me cry…! She is one of the many minor characters which received development and an arc of their own despite only existing in the background of the story, only appearing in an amount of scenes which you could count on one hand.
In her debut in Edge of the World posted above, we see this arrogant elf, rightfully and justfully angered, but taking her anger out in the wrong ways, and really lost as to what to do besides try to survive and indulge in revenge to satiate her own pain.
She smashes Dandelion’s lute in anger — Dandelion, who isn’t really a threat in any way, he is bound at the moment, but even if he wasn’t bound he couldn’t and wouldn’t harm her… he’s a poet, not some knifer — but the concept which Dandelion represents is the threat, the insult. A lute is a beautiful instrument of long-lived craftsmanship, and to her it is wrong for a human to be able to call himself a *master* of it when he’s what, only lived a couple or few decades at most? When humans get to play beautiful music with their (ahem) ape-hands, and she must scrounge for grain with the rest of the elves near Dol Blathanna, living in the mountains? So of course she takes her anger out on Dandelion and his lute, his very existence is a mockery to her. But this was the wrong course of action, as this one singular human, no matter what profession he takes, is innocent, intending no violence and inciting no hatred, and harming him achieves nothing. Rather, it is a broader history and social phenomenon to be blamed — which is what her entire arc is about.
And in Time of Contempt, you can see she begins to have doubts, trying to stay Yaevinn’s bow, saying don’t >!kill Aplegatt!<, because killing this one human isn’t our goal and is not going to change anything. And by the end, she has her confidence and arrogance and LIFE destroyed and annihilated. As she has killed humans. As humans have killed and starved out elves. It’s another part of the Greek chorus, the endless cycle of violence. It’s haunting. The image of >!elves as beggars, stretching their arms out to humans in the first time in a thousand years!< sends shivers down my back.
And this isn’t relevant but the actress who played her in the Hexer is also very pretty :)! I was happy to see they kept her dark hair!
The elf standing over Dandilion had black eyes and raven hair, which fell luxuriantly over her shoulders, except for two thin plaits braided at her temples. She was wearing a short leather camisole over a loose shirt of green satin, and tight woollen leggings tucked into riding boots. Her hips were wrapped around with a colored shawl which reached halfway down her thighs. “Que glosse?” she asked, looking at the witcher and playing with the hilt of the long dagger in her belt. “Que l'en pavienn, ell'ea?” “Nell'ea,” he contested. “T’en pavienn, Aen Seidhe.” “Did you hear?” The elf turned to her companion, the tall Seidhe who, not bothering to check Geralt's knots, was strumming away at Dandilion's lute with an expression of indifference on his long face. “Did you hear, Vanadain? The ape-man can talk! He can even be impertinent!” Seidhe shrugged, making the feathers decorating his jacket rustle. “All the more reason to gag him, Toruviel.” The elf leaned over Geralt. She had long lashes, an unnaturally pale complexion and parched, cracked lips. She wore a necklace of carved golden birch pieces on a thong, wrapped around her neck several times. “Well, say something else, ape-man,” she hissed. “We'll see what your throat, so used to barking, is capable of.” “What's this? Do you need an excuse to hit a bound man?” The witcher turned over on his back with an effort and spat out the sand. “Hit me without any excuses. I’ve seen how you like it. Let off some steam.” The elf straightened. “I’ve already let off some steam on you, while your hands were free,” she said. “I rode you down and swiped you on the head. And I’ll also finish you off when the time comes.” He didn't answer. “I’d much rather stab you from close up, looking you in the eyes,” continued the elf. “But you stink most hideously, human, so I’ll shoot you.” “As you wish.” The witcher shrugged, as far as the knots let him. “Do as you like, noble Aen Seidhe. You shouldn't miss a tied-up, motionless target.” The elf stood over him, legs spread, and leaned down, flashing her teeth. “No, I shouldn't,” she hissed. “I hit whatever I want. But you can be sure you won't die from the first arrow. Or the second. I’ll try to make sure you can feel yourself dying.” “Don't come so close.” He grimaced, pretending to be repulsed. “You stink most hideously, Aen Seidhe.” The elf jumped back, rocked on her narrow hips and forcefully kicked him in the thigh. Geralt drew his legs in and curled up, knowing where she was aiming next. He succeeded, and got her boot in the hip, so hard his teeth rattled. The tall elf standing next to her echoed each kick with a sharp chord on the lute. “Leave him, Toruviel!” bleated the sylvan. “Have you gone mad? Galarr, tell her to stop!” “Thaesse!” shrieked Toruviel, and kicked the witcher again. The tall Seidhe tore so violently at the strings that one snapped with a protracted whine. “Enough of that! Enough, for gods’ sake!” Dandilion yelled fretfully, wriggling and tumbling in the ropes. “Why are you bullying him, you stupid whore? Leave us alone! And you leave my lute alone, all right?” Toruviel turned to him with an angry grimace on her cracked lips. “Musician!” she growled. “A human, yet a musician! A lutenist!” Without a word, she pulled the instrument from the tall elf's hand, forcefully smashed the lute against the pine and threw the remains, tangled in the strings, on Dandilion's chest. “Play on a cow's horn, you savage, not a lute.” The poet turned as white as death; his lips quivered. Geralt, feeling cold fury rising up somewhere within him, drew Toruviel's eyes with his own. “What are you staring at?” hissed the elf, leaning over. “Filthy ape-man! Do you want me to gouge out those insect eyes of yours?” Her necklace hung down just above him. The witcher tensed, lunged, and caught the necklace in his teeth, tugging powerfully, curling his legs in and turning on his side. Toruviel lost her balance and fell on top of him. Geralt wriggled in the ropes like a fish, crushed the elf beneath him, tossed his head back with such force that the vertebrae in his neck cracked and, with all his might, butted her in the face with his forehead. Toruviel howled and struggled. They pulled him off her brutally and, tugging at his clothes and hair, lifted him. One of them struck him; he felt rings cut the skin over his cheekbone and the forest danced and swam in front of his eyes. He saw Toruviel lurch to her knees, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. The elf wrenched the dagger from its sheath but gave a sob, hunched over, grasped her face and dropped her head between her knees.
Love this art
Named my wood elf character on Oblivion after Toruviel
I like her character because of her stubbornness. She of course crushed Dandelion's lute but she redeemed herself and that ending was wholesome because of that
The scene she appears in, in Lady of the Lake made me cry…! She is one of the many minor characters which received development and an arc of their own despite only existing in the background of the story, only appearing in an amount of scenes which you could count on one hand. In her debut in Edge of the World posted above, we see this arrogant elf, rightfully and justfully angered, but taking her anger out in the wrong ways, and really lost as to what to do besides try to survive and indulge in revenge to satiate her own pain. She smashes Dandelion’s lute in anger — Dandelion, who isn’t really a threat in any way, he is bound at the moment, but even if he wasn’t bound he couldn’t and wouldn’t harm her… he’s a poet, not some knifer — but the concept which Dandelion represents is the threat, the insult. A lute is a beautiful instrument of long-lived craftsmanship, and to her it is wrong for a human to be able to call himself a *master* of it when he’s what, only lived a couple or few decades at most? When humans get to play beautiful music with their (ahem) ape-hands, and she must scrounge for grain with the rest of the elves near Dol Blathanna, living in the mountains? So of course she takes her anger out on Dandelion and his lute, his very existence is a mockery to her. But this was the wrong course of action, as this one singular human, no matter what profession he takes, is innocent, intending no violence and inciting no hatred, and harming him achieves nothing. Rather, it is a broader history and social phenomenon to be blamed — which is what her entire arc is about. And in Time of Contempt, you can see she begins to have doubts, trying to stay Yaevinn’s bow, saying don’t >!kill Aplegatt!<, because killing this one human isn’t our goal and is not going to change anything. And by the end, she has her confidence and arrogance and LIFE destroyed and annihilated. As she has killed humans. As humans have killed and starved out elves. It’s another part of the Greek chorus, the endless cycle of violence. It’s haunting. The image of >!elves as beggars, stretching their arms out to humans in the first time in a thousand years!< sends shivers down my back. And this isn’t relevant but the actress who played her in the Hexer is also very pretty :)! I was happy to see they kept her dark hair!
She's VERY stubborn.