Asarnil himself is less taken with the crowds, and broods in his massive tent alone each evening. He's occupied with buffing his armour with a cloth, but turns as you enter with a scowl and his mouth open to deliver a cutting rebuke, but upon seeing you he stops, surprised. "That manner of dress - why, you're one of Teclis' little ones!"
You're rather taken aback at that. "I- well, I am part of the Colleges of Magic, yes-"
"I'm so glad that you're still doing well. Which of them are you? Wait, don't tell me, you must be one of the Grey ones, right? Ulgu?"
"Yes, I am of the Grey Order."
"So few believed it would work, but Teclis proved them all wrong. And didn't Finubar hate that! He didn't even have the bravery to forbid one of those two brothers from doing what they pleased, but he predicted such ruin, and yet here you are." You're completely taken aback by this, but that last bit at least partially explains it - the tale of Asarnil's banishment from Ulthuan is well-known, and so something that tweaks the Phoenix King's nose would definitely please him. But you're starting to get the annoyed feeling that you're being treated like a child that has learned a particularly clever trick. "He taught you something of our language as well, didn't he? Is that still being passed down? Of course, not the proper thing, but a few words to use like we would use Anoqeyån."
"Ulgunar kirior onai Tar-Eltharin, caladai-eldoir-kurn," you retort, and he stares at you, quite surprised.
"I haven't heard-" he breaks off, and almost haltingly continues in Eltharin. "I have not heard the tongue of the True Elves in close to two centuries."
"If it would please you, I would be happy to converse with you in it," you respond.
"Of course!" he stops, and looks frustrated with himself. "Of course. I would like that very much."