Now, how was a Nord to believe that the woman who had pulled him from the brink of death was actually not a High Elf, nor was she a Wood Elf. No, she was something entirely different. And this oddity had just placed a warm cloak around his shoulders and had returned his weapons. Yet he had no intention of using them. “I... I had not intentions of accusing you of anything, nor do I wish to harm you. I doubt I could anyway.” He let the weapon she placed in his hand fall back to the floor, as he adjusted the cloak of furs to more comfortably fit his large form. “I am Andrel, and you are a living legend.” Everyone had of course heard of the tragic fall of the Snow Elves. Perhaps the Gods were playing a game, their entire race a simple pawn on a board. Yet it was stressed that the Snow Elves were no more, they either died off or succumbed to the blindness they had been stricken with. That was a fate worse then death, considering that those who became blind were now the Falmer. Yet he she was, and Luna had something else that made her so different from everyone else. Her beauty. She was by far the most beautiful woman the Nords eyes had laid eyes on, and he was sure many others would agree. But that didn’t matter at the moment. “I don’t know if you spend much time out of the mountains, but you don’t seem to understand why the Thalmor are feared. They don’t torture for information. No, they enjoy it. They enjoy seeing other races suffer, all because they believe they are superior to us.”<br/><br/>This belief, along with the humiliation of the White-Gold Concordat had driven Jarl Ulfric to challenge the High King, and now the Civil War. The Empire was working with the Thalmor instead of fighting against them, as all races who wish to stand free should. That is why the Stormcloaks fight. “I thank you for staying with me... yet I fear this storm is not natural. Look.” He gestures to the outside of the cave, the snowfall actively picked up and nearly made it impossible to see but a few feet. “I fear a different power is causing this storm. They are never this bad, winter hasn’t even set in yet.” Perhaps this was connected to the return of the Dragons? Everyone had heard what happened to Helgan, and if anyone was to believe it, it was Andrel. After all, his family was from Helgan. He was forced to leave after the town was declared to be loyalist, his family choose the same. Now, they were gone, consumed by the end of all, Alduin. “You are a Snow Elf, yet I do not understand how you are even here. The world believes your race is gone, or they suffered an even worse fate...” he was curious as to how she stayed alive long after the rest of her race had disappeared.<br/><br/>Andrel remained quiet for awhile, enjoying his meat as he watched the Snow Elf continue to collect what was worthy of trade. He’d remained quiet about her trade with the witches that the forsworn had taken to serving, yet he couldn’t for very long. “You play a dangerous game you know. The Forsworn are not to be trusted, even more so for the Hagravens. Our came was raided many times by the Forsworn, but we held them back. The Imperials seemed to have been looking to wipe us both out at the same time.” Slowly, his hand made its way to his shoulder where he proceeded to rub it gently, to soothe the now fading pain. “Speaking of which, we should move deeper into the cave. There could be more then wolves looking to take shelter from the storm.” The last thing Andrel wanted to face was a Troll. He was in no condition to battle one, and his savior would only be burdened by him in battle. Better to be safe then sorry. “I think I can walk... I just need a little help getting up...”