Ellana falls from the tree in an ungraceful manner. She degrades herself on the climb back up, stamping every footstep and reach of shaking fingers with an obscenity and a promise to do better next time. While each statement contradicts the other, it helps build her confidence after the humiliating fall. She hadn't sustained any injuries, and for that she's grateful. Very much she would like to avoid attracting the attention of the hermit in the woods.
This is a dare. Ellana wouldn't even dream of venturing out into the woods past midnight when she could be in her bed, sleeping. Ellana values sleep, but she values her friendships even more. Sera told her she didn't have the balls to do this, and here is Ellana, climbing up the tallest tree she could find, scraped knees and bleeding palms and all, to prove Sera wrong. Why is Ellana climbing this tree? Why is Sera such an asshole?
It starts with Varric. Ellana was inclined not to believe it at first, considering the source, but Sera dragged her over and told her to shut up and listen to Varric's story. Ellana didn't want to listen for that simple reason: it was a story, and she wanted nothing to do with it. But here is Ellana, climbing up the tallest tree she could find, scraped knees and bleeding palms and all, because she suddenly had everything to do with it.
"There's this guy, you see," Varric begins his story, "and once upon a time, he was quite popular—until he wasn't."
"Lovely."
Sera nudges Ellana in the ribs.
Varric continues without interruption. "So, there's this guy—an elf, a real weirdo, a hermit, if you will. He doesn't like to be disturbed. That's why he lives in the woods. No one ever goes in there. Not even Cassandra—and she has that thing with dead people."
The hermit in the woods lives in a cabin, because it's a cliché, and Varric loves his clichés.
The hermit in the woods is an outcast, preyed upon by society for many reasons—goat fucking, blood magic, magic in general, everything and nothing, because this is a story, and Varric knows exactly what to say to appeal to the masses.
Ellana rolls her eyes. Sera laughs her ass off, not because she particularly cares if this hermit didn't have any friends. No, it's because Varric says the one thing that is as outrageous as a scene from a fictional play.
"You're telling me he dances naked in the moonlight!"
And that's why Ellana is currently trying to climb a tree. She's stumbling again, losing her footing more than once. If she falls this time, she might not be able to climb, or do much of anything, anymore. She pictures herself lying in a heap among the tree roots and debris and the hermit finding her. Would he take her body and drag it someplace to eat? Or would he fuck her right then and there? Which would make a better story?
Sera says she's been in the woods before, searching for the hermit and all his glory, but she was never successful in her search. "You might be, though…" She smiles, and Ellana hates that smile.
"No," she says.
"Yes," Sera says. "Do it, or else."
Ellana hadn't asked what the "or else" was, and now she wishes she had. She doesn't like climbing trees, fighting death with each step she takes. She wants to know what's in it for her. She might end up dying. Dying is certainly negotiable.
Once she's unable to climb any further, she sits on a tree branch. It isn't that sturdy. She presses her back to the trunk and holds on with both hands. Sera packed her a bag, complete with a whistle, two daggers, and a pair of binoculars. "But no tweezers," Ellana remarks, plucking out a splinter and tossing it with a flick of her fingers.
She doesn't expect to see the hermit. His cabin is in her sights, the windows dark, no sign of life present. The place looks abandoned, like a place spirits would take over. Maybe this guy is a spirit, though that wouldn't make a better story than some weird guy dancing naked with the flowers.
It's past midnight, the stars bright and the moon full—optimal location for some magical dancing.
Right off the bat Ellana didn't like Varric's story. Sera would chalk that up to her "elfyness". Yes, Ellana is an elf, thank you very much, and she doesn't care for fables cheapening her people to stereotypes of dancing naked and blooming flowers. And even if this guy did that… he doesn't define all elves.
So, why is she so determined to prove them wrong?
She sticks a piece of spearmint gum in her mouth and digs out her binoculars. If he did begin to take off his clothes, then Ellana is totally within her power to see if he's attractive. Something about Varric's tale screams "ugly, lonely dude", so Ellana doesn't hold her breath. She chews on her gum, not even chancing it to check the time on her phone. Knowing all the great luck she's been having tonight, an alarm would go off, and then the hermit would emerge from his cabin and shake his fists and put a hex on her. And then, she would die miserably. And he would eat her dead body after fucking her. Obviously.
"Obviously," Ellana whispers. She shakes her head, laughing at her own ridiculousness. "You're going to be okay."
The door to the cabin opens. Ellana readies her binoculars.
It's past midnight. The moon is full and high in the sky. Ellana's knees are scraped and her palms are bleeding, and she doesn't even catch a glimpse of the hermit in the woods before she tips over and falls. Her balance was perfect. She didn't even breathe, and now she's falling, knocking against every branch on the way down in a very comical fashion, in retrospect. She isn't laughing now. She's falling, trying to grab something, anything. Her binoculars are lost, and her arm feels as if it's being pulled out of its socket. She is suspended in midair, tears in her eyes, everything sore, everything broken. Carefully, she raises her head, looks up to see what has caught her, and it's a hand, an arm, a shoulder. It's a man, an elf, his head tilted to the side, gaze narrowed and lips parted in bewilderment. "Are you all right?" he asks.
Ellana's gum is miraculously still in her mouth. She spits it at the man's face. "You're fucking beautiful," she says, before promptly losing consciousness.
She wakes in a bed, in a cabin, in the middle of the woods. Boy, does that sound like an adventure. Her head is throbbing, her whole body warm and humming mutely. The man from before is with her, bandaging a palm. "Are you the hermit?" Ellana asks, groggy, her tongue heavy in her mouth.
The man smiles, a soft thing that breaks Ellana's heart. "I suppose."
Ellana laughs, ribs aching.
The hermit's name is Solas, and he does not appreciate these lies being spread about him.
"Who told you that? Was it Dorian? I bet it was Dorian."
"No, it was Varric." It's morning, and Ellana's phone is dead. She wonders if Sera had even tried to call to make sure she was okay.
Solas glares at the wall. "Varric," he hisses.
"Yeah, he said you fucked goats and ate dead people and did blood magic and liked dancing naked in the moonlight."
Solas chuckles. "I most definitely do not fuck goats, eat dead people, or do blood magic."
Ellana blinks.
Solas turns to Ellana. "You need to tell Varric he's wrong, and he's an awful storyteller."
"Why can't you?"
Solas stares at the wall again. "Well, I could."
Ellana is sent away with her bag full of healing herbs and sweets her teeth will automatically reject with the first bite. Her body is warm, the humming gone, and the only scar left behind is a ragged thing along her left palm. She rubs the gauze and looks over her shoulder. In the distance, Solas is sitting on the roof of the cabin, his legs swinging, something green flying from his fingers.
She runs the rest of the way home.
Sera isn't as worried as Ellana expected her to be, but then again, she's Sera. Ellana shouldn't have expected anything more.
"So, did you see his prick?"
Ellana frowns. "No. I didn't see anything."
Sera is eating one of the snacks Solas had packed Ellana. Icing covers her lips. "But you saw him."
"Yes, but not… that."
"Tough luck."
Varric vanishes for a week. When he returns, he says nothing of what happened. He avoids Ellana. Sera laughs this off and says it's because Ellana is now the she-hermit, whatever that means.
Ellana visits Solas again. This time, the sun is out. This time, she doesn't climb.
Solas is on the roof again.
"What did you do to Varric?"
"Varric who?"
"You know what? Never mind. I don't need to know."
Solas jumps from the roof. He lands on his feet. Hands behind his back, he walks toward Ellana. "Don't worry about him."
"Okay."
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine." Ellana puts her arms behind her back, too, mimicking Solas' posture. "Thanks for… saving me."
"Your thanks aren't necessary, seeing as I was the one who caused you to fall."
"Excuse me," Ellana deadpans.
"I saw something in the trees. I wanted to see what it was. I don't like strangers spying on me."
She moves her arms in front of her, crossing them over her chest. "I wasn't spying on you."
"I found binoculars on the forest floor. Broken, I'm afraid. Although, I think that's for the best."
"I wasn't spying on you," Ellana mumbles.
Solas goes forward, his heel creating an imprint in the grass as he swivels toward his cabin. Ellana follows him. "Do you remember what you said to me before you unceremoniously collapsed?"
Ellana does. "No." She likes to think it was a dream. It felt like a dream, even the aftermath. Her feet stepped on clouds, and her body was consumed by fire.
There's a fire going in Solas' cabin. He stands in front of it. "That's a shame."
Her eyes on his back, Ellana sinks into the bed. The covers look like they haven't been made since she slept in them. "Why is it a shame?"
Solas shrugs. His skin is brown, the flames dancing off it. The faintest hints of dark stubble occupy his scalp. Ellana links her ankles together. "Did you want me to remember?"
"Why else would I ask?"
"Why do you always answer a question with another question?"
"Why do we do anything?"
Ellana closes her eyes. Solas laughs.
She comes back two nights later. Would he really be Solas if she didn't meet him up on that damn roof?
"Come down," she says.
"Why?" he says.
"Fuck you, just come down."
Solas does. He stands, spine straight, shoulders back, everything about him too damn proud.
"I do remember," Ellana says stubbornly. She won't meet Solas' eye. "I remember what I said to you before I unceremoniously collapsed." She mocks Solas' voice during this. The corner of his lips turns into a smile. She continues to avoid eye contact. "But I still wasn't spying on you."
"Okay."
"I won't repeat myself."
"I didn't want you to repeat yourself."
"What did you want me to do?"
"Kiss me," Solas says, and Ellana kisses him, and this feels like a dream, too, all warm and pink. She's full of fluff, stuffed and stitched and never prone to popping.
Breathless, Solas leans his forehead against Ellana's and says, "I do actually dance naked under the moonlight."
Ellana rolls her eyes and pinches Solas' forearm. "Keep that to yourself. No one needs to know that."