There was no reply, either because there was no answer to give or there was no answer worth giving.  Tamlin watched Ranuk approach the tree, sniffing at the air and looking utterly confused by what he was finding-- even if the demon did not recognize it, there was something more in the look on his face, something the prince couldn't name.  It was one thing to know nothing, it was another to not remember...  And though Tam had no way of guessing if the tree had any meaning besides its curious appearance, something in Ranuk's puzzled response made him attentive.<br/><br/>The elf hung back from the hill, just watching Ranuk sit and stare.  He tried to think of any stories, any lore about such a tree; nothing came to him, leaving Tam completely lost.  There was no reason to be afraid of it, but there was no reason not to be either, so caution ruled his judgements: he wouldn't touch ths tree unless he had to, would recount the experience to the scholars back home... Perhaps they could answer whatever questions he might have.  As soon as he could make them.<br/><br/>Then Ranuk moved, as quick as his injuries allowed; clearly, something had clicked.  Whatever it was, it seemed important.  "Ranuk?"  Tamlin followed, cradling the kitten in his arms as he skirted around the tree, following his betrothed.  He seemed to be searching for something, something hidden in the tree's roots...<br/><br/>"What is it?  What are you looking for...?"  The prince stopped when Ranuk did, dark eyes wide and alert as he scanned the gnarled white roots, trying to pick out what the other had seen...<br/><br/>He saw the sword first.  It had been made with a special pommel, unique and specific to the tastes of its owner-- a miniature version of the Twin Sisters, mounted in silver and decorated with fine engraving.  Now it was oxidized and blackened, the blade itself corroding with age, like the bones of his grandfather, turning to dust in his tomb.<br/><br/>And this was a tomb of another kind, with bones of its own.  The skull was massive, bleached to the same paleness as its grave marker, covered in the marks of its previous life; the four great horns curved and fanned out, as impressive as the four that sat on Ranuk's own head.  Even without the sword, even without having the story intimately in his mind, Tamlin could have pieced things together; this way, it only took a second, and he knew.<br/><br/>The prince stood immobile, his storm-cloud grey face paling, and his ears went stiff against his head as he gazed at Ranuk and the remains of his father, his heart beating loud and hard in his chest.  His mouth was dry, his tongue did not work-- what was there he could say to this?  What sort of words would be appropriate when confronted with the past, what could the child of an enemy offer in peace when the cost of war was right in front of them both...?