There's something strained and sad in his expression as he shakes his head. "I appreciate the thought, but I fear there is far too much pride in the Dalish that many would still cling to the old ways, even if they knew the truth."

Finel thinks of the stories Solas had told him, of the way the Dalish clans had spurned his knowledge, even if they (and Finel) had no idea that it had all been firsthand. Yet what would they have done, knowing that they had turned away the true embodiment of Fen'Harel?

Besides which, Solas had plans to render anyone's beliefs in anything completely irrelevant.

He shifts, searching for a new subject when his eyes fall upon the finely crafted necklace nestled carefully just below the hollow of Aragorn's throat.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs softly, eyes looking back to those lovely blue. "A gift?"