Although eager to hear about your battle against the bat creature, the elves politely listens as you recount about how you ended up together as well. They have many questions about your fight, and some hide doubts that you could have defeated such a powerful opponent poorly behind frowning expressions, the mystical nature of Old Magic, and the legends surrounding it, warping their perspective. They all however are eager to view the items you recovered from the cave, none daring to touch them as the shuffle round to gaze in wonder, hands almost universally folded across their stomach.<br/>As the shock of the first story wares off gradually, a second revelation dawns on the elves: Rose and Kasumi are from the mainland. This leads to a new flurry of questions as, whilst some of the residents of the forest arrived on this island at some point in their life, none of Red Warriors have, and so they are keen to hear your experiences from the distant land across the water. One even asks if Old Magic still exists there, and is disappointed to find that that is not the case. Deneve shrugs as she is dropped from the centre of attention, taking the moment to reflect on things as she stars into the night sky.<br/>The offer of the pale wine is repeated several times as the barrel is rolled around the campfire, many of the elves becoming merry from the drink. Two females depart to try and persuade the brooding Red to join the fire circle. The rest of the elves take their turns telling stories as grand as yours and you suspect many of them are made are false. Some do not even pretending to be true, such as a brown haired elf, starting to show the signs of age, who claims to have killed some three horned beast thrice the size of a shark by causing an avalanche with an arrow. One story that Deneve recognizes from earlier however seems to be true: a fight with a plant creature, a twisting mass of vines surrounding a flower-like maw. The creature was defeated only when one elf thought of using a special arrow that sliced as much as pierced, and was able to destroy its vines from range.<br/>With Red persuaded to return amongst you the stories start to become more cheerful and light-hearted, as Razzig recounts how a fey folk had him hunting a swift deer for a full three hour before revealing itself to him to laugh. Suddenly the elves begin to sing, haphazardly at first but gradually the semi-sober voices rein in those drunken and the rhythm is stabilized. The song is in elvish for the most part with some verses in common, and from what you can tell it involves a farmer taking the day off to fish and catching a trout with scales of pure silver. When it finishes, with the farmer tossing the fish back into the water with nothing but a single scale to show for his troubles, there is a moment of silence before one elf shouts, “Now your turn,” and the others heartily agree.