[b]Without warning, Sylvia burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement. Her poor husband seemed to be so nervous, & over a small thing like her grandmother being buried at the roots of her dowry chest tree. If only he knew the tree count of the castle, or that even her wooden comb was used from the tree of the dearly departed.

"Grandmama isn't [i]in[/i] my dowry chest, [i]Hallaer,[/i]" Sylvia assured Aranhil, leaning over to rest her cheek on his shoulder, "Elves allow themselves to return to nature from where they spawned. The trees only inherit our nutrients, not our souls. We are careful with the things made out of the wood out of respect for the deads' noble contribution. Don't your people still keep the skulls of great rulers?"

Deciding to calm herself, Sylvia closed her eyes & lightly nuzzled Aranhil's shoulder. She hoped for many days like this, where they could relax in the sun & enjoy each other's company. Every day she spent with Aranhil was relaxing, & she was certain he made sure of that. Even though he still had to deal with dignitaries & have meetings with others, he always made sure that she only focused on learning his peoples' culture without diversion. Sylvia had already read on the customs & beliefs of the Dragons before she was sent to marry Aranhil, but Elves only had so much information on their enemies. The culture of Aranhil's people was so much more rich than she originally believed; a little misogynistic with their beliefs that women should make children her first priority, yes, but every group was bound to have a flaw or two.

"Aranhil, would you allow me to help you with your work?" Sylvia asked her husband a bit hesitantly, "I know that it is considered mens' work here, but seeing as I'll probably never be able to help you in battle, I want to ease your burdens some other way." [/b]