"The fool is too stubborn to accept it, more like than not." The priest shrugs, and takes a seat on a nearby log, cracking his knuckles in agitation. You can really see how much the delay is bothering him.<br/><br/>About twenty minutes later, Jordath returns. He looks a bit scuffed up, but has three different tree cuttings in hand.<br/><br/>"Alright, Mattine, here's yer wood." The sharp-featured man tosses the cuttings lazily, leaving the priest darting to catch them. "I take it you're good to go, then?"<br/><br/>The priest mutters under his breath, then nods. "Yes. We have everything we need. Now, then, elf? Are you ready? If so, please take a gold candle in your right hand and a silver in your left, and lay down here on the altar, arms at your sides..."