Amaranthine. My keep. Light comes pouring in from a set of windows twice as high as a man. It is a small room by royalty standards but well stocked. An increasingly worn desk cluttered with missives and requests pile up as new ones arrive daily. Hanging on the walls and fastened snugly to armor stands were weapons and equipment bought, stolen, forged, found or reclaimed from years of constant battle. Each one served a different purpose or use while some I am simply fond of. All had memories associated with them, a place, a particular battle, a special significance. One could trace a journey that began simply and grew ever more complex just by looking at the items in this room.
Some were more hard earned that others. Some were long since replaced in terms of functionality but kept for other reasons. I did not think myself a sentimental elf but the proof was just a few short feet away. I take a break from running the city and the order to stretch my legs and admire my wall. With the post Blight routed it was peacefully quiet and achingly dull in Ferelden. For the first time in a long time there was no one to kill, no crisis hanging over my head. It was good for the first month or so I'd say. I practice every afternoon but it was difficult to mimic the joy of real combat. I was a warrior that no longer had a war to throw himself into. I think often about heading to the Deep Roads for some action but I know that I am needed here. It would make more sense to wage an underground war to stop the darkspawn from finding Archdemons but garnering support outside Orzamar would be rough indeed. I listed it among my highest priorities but there was so much rebuilding to do that pet projects would have to wait.
My old longbow catches my eye. It is a simple elven weapon done in tradtional Dalish style by Master Ilen with images of Andruil and my personal identification mark. It hasn't been strung for some time but it is still a sturdy, weather resistant instrument. I once carried it far from my beloved home to Ostegar with the taint eating away at me. By the time I came back to the trees with it across my chest, much had changed.
We walk sullenly on the empty road to Lothering. With two Wardens the three of us avoided the main horde easily and made good time going north. There was very little chatter between us and we were all virtually strangers still. My mind worked overtime as the land grew greener and our position becomes more and more clear. It was time to head north by north east and I veer slightly off the path that direction.
"Keep straight, we'll be in Lothering in a couple days." Alistair said glumly but I ignore him.
"Did you hear me?" he asked after a few moments.
"I heard." I respond. "I'm not going."
"Not going? What do you mean not going?"
"I'm joining up with my clan." I say over my shoulder.
"You what!?" he said in panic.
"You heard."
"You can't just leave! We need you! The Wardens need you! Ferelden!" he cried.
"Creators damn all of those." I turn to say to him but keep walking. "I'm somewhat cured, I'm going home."
"Hey! You can't do that!" he yelled shrilly. "Morrigan, say something!"
"This was your idea, elf." she pointed out.
"No it wasn't, witch." I turn around and walk backwards a few paces. "I was forced into this mess. If the darkspawn don't kill us, it seems other humans will do their best. I hope you all die fighting each other."
"This isn't just our problem! They will come for the Dalish too!" Alistair shouted.
"We'll be waiting." I call back as the distance between us increased.
"You swore an oath!" he said loudly and I slow to stop in my tracks. "You must honor it!"
Turning to regard both of them I decree, "An oath under penalty of death is no oath at all. Don't follow me. If I see you again, I will cut you."
Leaving them standing there I continue the way I was going with a light heart. With a bit of luck, things would be back to normal in just a few days.
Weaving through the trees I know that I am close. Bow in hand and quiver open I stalk through the green like a ghost, floating effortlessly over rock and moss. Keeping an eye out for potential meals my keen senses are soon disturbed by watchful eyes looking on me from nearby. In an instant I know that I surrounded but I make no move to take up a defensive position. Only other Dalish who knew what they were doing could have snuck up on me like this and if they wanted me dead it would have happened already. Instead of dropping my bow as a shem might I loop it backwards over my head so the upper limb fit snugly on my shoulder. The taut string crosses my body diagonally and keeps the weapon from moving too much as I place my hand over my heart. Lowering my head to the seemingly empty forest I say aloud, "Aneth ana."
The hunters melted out of the foliage and trees with bows drawn. I don't put my hands up; it would indicate that I had reason to fear them. One came forward and said, "Aneth ana, lethallin." I don't recognize him nor any of the others, not that I thought I would. I was only a child during the last Arlathvhen. "What brings you to our camp?"
"I have terrifying news from the south as well as am in need assistance locating my clan. May I speak with your keeper?"
"Of course." he said and only then did their draw strings ease in unison. "Come, we are not far."
True to his word it was only a short run to the clearing they had set themselves up in. This clan was considerably larger than mine and nearly all of them watched us approach as if we were made of gold. Up ahead is a bald old man that I knew I'd seen before and remembered his sour disposition but nothing else.
"Aneth ana." he said as I come up to him and the hunters dispersed to find something more useful to do.
"Ma serannas, hahren." I bow my head.
"I am Zathrian, and I'm afraid I don't have much good news for you." he said right away.
"Do you know who I am?" I blink.
"A keeper for centuries I have been. I know a clan's vallaslin and ancestors better than anyone. And I have seen enough generations of your mothers and fathers to recognize the same faces over and over."
I have to chuckle at the thought. "I wonder how many of us stole our looks from our parents over the long years."
"More than you would care to think about." he answered and I am inclined to agree. "But as I said, I cannot offer you much aid. Your clan has already moved far to the north and we are stuck here."
My heart sank upon hearing this news. It was a possibility of course but I had to hold out the hope that they had been delayed. It could be a year before they turned around and headed south again. Even then, finding them would be no easy task.
"I'm sorry. I know this must be a difficult time for you but we have our own set of problems." Zathrian said. "Unless you have a pressing desire to go blindly north in search of them, I have urgent need of skilled warriors here."
"More than you know, hahren. There is much we must discuss about the battle in the south."
Coming back from my patrol I enter the clearing unharassed. The hunters knew me by now and I had begun to accept the fact that it might be a while before I saw my own clan again. Perhaps it was time to put down some roots here until I could reach them on the return trip. My brothers and sisters in this place were in dire straights as well, they had werewolves attacking, a couple of youths missing, wounded that couldn't be healed. I had a moral obligation to help in any way I could.
I spot a cluster of people by Zathrian whom I do not recognize and they are oddly tall. When I get closer I am shocked to realize that it is Alistiar, Morrigan and a third human, a woman. All of the thoughts fly out of my head and I rapidly cover the distance to them.
"Hey!" I shout angrily. "What are you doing here!?"
"Ah, he does remember us. See, I told you." Alistair joked to Morrigan.
"Do you know this Warden?" Zathrian asked in confusion.
"Know me?"
"You didn't tell them?" the witch was baffled.
"Tell us what?" the keeper's First Lanaya wondered and I burn a hole through the humans with my eyes.
"He is a Gray Warden." Alistair explained. "Not just that, but we're the only two left in all of Ferelden. He's...fifty percent of the Wardens in this country."
The elder Keeper and the First turned astonished gazes to me and I sullenly shift dirt around with my feet. "Is this true?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not tell us?" Lanaya grilled me.
"It matters not." I huff. "The human's infighting got them all slaughtered and I barely escaped just as I said. I fulfilled my obligation by doing my part. There are no Gray Wardens anymore, just him and some old papers."
"Treaties! Treaties we signed that you are bound to deliver!" she exclaimed.
"Hold your tongue, woman!" I snap.
"I will not! You have deserted and brought shame on your whole clan!"
"Deserted!?" I shout. "By what right was I 'conscripted' into this two man army!? A human decree!? A foreign order!?"
"The Wardens are highly respected for what they do, even by your own keeper." Zathrian said tersely. "You should have told us right away."
"Have you all lost your minds!?" I berate them. "I'm at fault for wanting to return to my clan when I was led to nothing but a swift death by the same people who stole our lands!? Shall we all bend knee to the first human that wanders by!?"
"You know you did wrong-" Zathrian started but I storm past them.
"Falon'Din take all of you! I'm heading north!" In a wretched mood I stomp away from them west towards the edge of the wood.
Creators damn them to the underworld.
"Weeeeeeell...that was familiar." Alistair sighed when he was out of earshot.
"Bit of an attitude on that one." Morrigan agreed.
"We really should go after him. We're going to need his help."
"No, let him go." the Keeper advised. "He'll be back."
"How can you be so sure?" the third human Leliana asked. "There is so much hate in his heart."
"It is a feeling I know well." Zathrian admitted. "And I know where it comes from. He will not abandon us here, no matter what he said. Let him cool off. Now, let us speak more of our situation."
The lone Warden watched the elf disappear and shook his head. It was going to be a long afternoon.
It took the rest of the day to reach the edge of the forest and I immediately started heading north when I hit the treeline. This is what I should have done from Ostegar, what I should have done the moment I was cured by the darkspawn taint, if only temporarily. Still fuming and muttering to myself I resolve to not stop until I had no more light to see.
I had been walking for hours when I felt them and at first did not understand what was happening. Standing there dumbly alongside the trees I have to shake myself out of disbelief and take up a position as a pack of darkspawn headed right towards me. Putting my back to a tree and well hidden by underbrush I pull my bow from my body. Opening my quiver I stab a handful of arrows down on the mossy earth before me. Nocking one I breathe steady and reamin calm even though they shouldn't be this far north and so close to a Dalish clan.
I see them before I hear them and that is not a good sign. They emerge from the trees at a crisp jog and even the pleasant forest air is corrupted by their polluted flesh. Lightly armed and armored for long distance travel I understand now that this a scouting party. It was likely they were heading south with fresh details about the lay of the land; they weren't going to make it there.
They pass me by as I draw and aim for the neck of the last one, a smaller scout. The pack slows to look around and I realize that they can sense me as much as I can sense them. Inhaling a breath I loose on the exhale and the arrow takes him just where the shoulder joined the throat. The others pull weapons but don't see me and I use the invaluable seconds to draw again. The second shot takes one in the eye and the survivors know then exactly where I am. They roar as they rush the bushes and I have time for one last shot at the knee of the closest one. He goes down and I drop the bow to yank my Dar'Misu free as the last one standing hurls a throwing axe in my direction. Ducking to the right it crashes through the foliage near my head far too close as I then bound forward to meet the scout head on. We slam together with jarring force and bounce off each other rather painfully.
Taking the chance to get my longsword into my right hand the creature comes at me bellowing as a wild beast does. It is strong, heavy handed but relatively slow and without finesse. I work at his sword arm while he lashes out at me until he comes just a little too close. Knocking his weapon to the side with my main weapon I follow it with the parrying dagger and ram it cleanly through his forearm. It can't hold on to its weapon and I adjust my grip to put both hands on the longsword. It summons a shriek from its chest in defiance as I swing horizontally and take its head off.
Kicking down the headless body standing upright for a grotesque few seconds I advance on the last one hobbling towards me. It cannot maneuver very well and I run in circles around it opening small wounds before inflicting mortal ones on his torso. It falls face down in the grass and I hack overhand again and again until it stops moving. Its back it lacerated mush as I pant in lungfuls of air reeking of copper and foul contagion. There were only four of them but they could have given the wrong-
The blackened broadsword of the one below me had blood on it, fresh blood from the last day or so and it wasn't mine. Picking it up I find the weapon to be much heavier than my light blades and far less graceful but recently used nevertheless. None of the bodies had self inflected wounds but their weapons had new coats of blood over older stains. Checking them all the first one I shot had something on it that wasn't crusted cruor and I hunch down to get a look at what was snagged on the edge of the heavily chipped sword. There is a bit of cloth stuck into a crack soaked red and dried to the weapon. My stomach flips as I tug on the tiny scrap and bring it to my face. I want to be wrong so badly but there is no mistaking it: the cloth was undoubtedly Dalish.
Leaving my arrows I nearly forget to collect my bow before setting upon the trail of the scouting party. It is easy to locate and follow their grass-trampling path for about an hour. I do have to stop to pick it up again a couple of times and readjust but it doesn't take long to find what I held out the mad hope I wouldn't. Just inside the treeline was a the scene of a battle...no...a killing. The two young hunters missing from Zathrian's clan were here, brutally chopped down by the darkspawn and mutilated far beyond what was necessary to kill them. The boy, his vallaslin barely dry, was shot in the back with a barbed arrow. It appeared he suffered multiple wounds beyond that like he struggled through it to keep defending himself. The young Dalish maiden did not go without a fight either and darkspawn blood was on the knife still clutched in her hand. Nearby I find the body of a fifth scout who had tried to crawl away but expired only fifteen feet or so from them.
I try to tell myself that they died bravely. I try to convince myself that this was a fluke and they had simply wandered too far from the protection of the clan. I want to believe that humans could have been responsible for exactly this kind of thing and were not any better but I know in my heart that it isn't true. My fists are clenched so hard that my knuckles are white and I come to be aware that I am shaking. These two could have been – should be – two happy elves contributing to their clan's prosperity for years to come and possibly blessing it with strong children as well.
My chest heaves up and down and it is not sorrow that grips me but the blackest, foulest, most terrible rage. I want to kill and not just in defense but in limitless slaughter until the darkspawn drown in a river of their own cursed blood. It wasn't just these youths or the fact that it could have been people I knew either. I had run from what everyone was trying to explain and the two mangled bodies here brought reality crashing down on me. These creatures were going to murder every last Dalish in Ferelden and our disparate clans would not be able to resist them, not with their own divisions and problems keeping them apart. My inborn hatred of humans had made a fool of me and everyone else had been right, even Alistair. I couldn't bear to face them all again but I would have to no matter my shame.
It took me about an hour to bury them properly and find sturdy enough saplings for them. Their weapons would be brought back to the people that another might take them up. They had earned the right to be buried in their armor. I didn't want to go back, I didn't want to be the one to break the news to two crying mothers but I was going to so that the Creators might see my penance. There was what had to be done and what I wanted to do didn't matter anymore. I vowed to make darkspawn regret the day they attacked a people who had so little left to lose and who would die before they would ever submit again.
At last into the camp I arrived with dozens of eyes trained on me. Ignoring them I head straight for the keeper's spot but Zathrian is nowhere to be seen. It is his First I make a beeline for and she nods as I approach.
"We thought you might be back." she remarked.
"I must speak with the keeper and humans." I inform her. "And the names of your two missing young ones, what are they?"
"Teague and Raghnailt, did you find them?" she asked worriedly. I stare at her and bring up the bundle in my hand. She looked down at it and then to my chest where she saw that I had more items than I left with. The First covered her mouth and looked away for a few moments. Recovering quickly she asked with a broken voice, "Did you...see...to them?"
"Of course."
"I will inform the parents..."
"No," I shake my head, "permit me. Point them out."
She spoke quietly and indicated how I could recognize them. A thousand thoughts run through my head as I bear the wrapped bundle to a small grouping of men and women a hundred feet away or so. There was a couple sitting next to each other and the female had a red flower in her hair. The male of the pair is fifteen or more years older than me and he seizes up slightly when he realizes I'm coming to them. The entire group stops chatting and rises to stand as I arrive in their midst.
"Raghnailt is your daughter?" I ask the two before me.
"Yes?" the woman came forward past her bond mate. The male's eyes are locked on me and I cannot return the gaze. Taking a full chest of air to steady myself I unwrap the girl's knife with a heavy heart. "No...no, Creators, no!" she put her hands over her mouth.
"Ir abelas, hahrenen." I say with my head down and hand the knife to the father. It hits him like a physical blow and his knees buckled when he accepted it. He stared blankly at the object and when he looked back up at me there were tears in his eyes as his spouse fell to pieces at his side. The other women nearby wordlessly wrapped themselves around the mother and the men moved behind the father to put their hands on his shoulders.
"She was cared for." I can barely speak and the words sound as empty as they feel.
"Ma serannas, da'len." the male said to me in a cracking voice that fell to a harsh whisper. I walk away from them but I cannot stop my eyes from blurring. Wiping away the moisture I know that I have to remain strong. The spirits are watching me and I would not let them down.
Farther out near the edges of the encampment I find who I am looking for doing laundry with her back to me. My steps are as soft as falling snow but she freezes when I get within ten feet of her. The older female turns very slowly to face me and I don't have to say a word as I cross the last few steps in between us. Her eyes go wide as I reach to my chest and remove the extra bow stacked on top of my own I had slung over my shoulder.
"Ir abelas." I say and extend her boy's bow to her. She hits the ground howling and I calmly set aside my things to kneel on the soft earth with her. She throws her arms around me and I hold the person whose world I had just shattered until she could cry no more.
They sat around me in a circle with the keeper posted by the door as if I would leave again. Hunched over with my forearms on my knees I stare at the floor trying to think of what to say.
"Right, so, were we going to speak?" Alistair broke the silence.
"I don't like you." I start off. "I don't like humans and I don't trust you. But for the moment we have a common enemy. I never wanted to be a Warden, I still don't, but there are worse things than you running around Ferelden. This is a fool's errand we're on but at we'll be encountering a lot of darkspawn on the way. At the very least we can hand these treaties out and pave the way for reinforcements."
"Well, that's an improvement in attitude at least." the other Warden remarked.
"You're going to see this through then, elf?" Morrigan asked.
"I am, witch."
"What changed your mind?"
"That isn't important." I dodge. "What is right now is solving this werewolf problem. I've been scouting east for a week and I've discovered much about their movements. With good fortune we should be able to bypass or ambush the nearest groups."
I look to Zathrian who nods once. "Are you going to follow orders?" Alistair challenged.
"From you? Absolutely not."
"Worth a try." he shrugged.
"I hope you will come to trust us as we will you." the red head offered. I didn't like the idea of a Chantry sister just randomly joining up with us – she sounded like a templar spy to me – but we were in enough trouble that we needed the help.
"We'll see." I reply nonchalantly.
Night. It's pouring rain and the three humans have decided a fire would be a good idea. I tried to explain that a werewolf infested forest was the last place you'd want to ignite a beacon but apparently they knew better than the elf who grew up in this wood. They probably wouldn't have been able to light it in the first place had the witch not been able to summon a blaze with a flick of her hand. I could not imagine sleeping when there could be an ambush forming around us so I kept watch far enough away to be out of earshot but close enough to hear any suspicious activity.
This was where I belonged, here in the trees working for my people, night chill in the air, cold drops soaking my cloak and braided hair. I could not imagine living or being anywhere else long term yet I had agreed to exactly that. I could always renege, head north or even wait here until my clan came back through. It was a fallacy though. I wouldn't, I couldn't. Not with Zathrian's people in such a sorry state. Not with the images of elven blood and bits of cloth seared into my memory. All my life I hated humans and with joy in my heart I fought against them. These darkspawn were worse than even Loghain. They didn't kill for land, money, power, influence, anything I could understand. They only cared for the black will of the Archdemon that whispered to me in a alphabet of fear every night in my dreams. Humans were vicious, selfish creatures no doubt but they were not a Blight.
The witch thinks she's surprised me but she hasn't. The lovely pitter-patter of the invisible rain sings to me like a musical instrument and her quiet steps are discordant notes breaking the harmony. "You may approach." I say still facing the dark wood before us. She comes to sit beside me with her cloak shrouding her face just like mine.
"Can't sleep?" she joked, knowing that I disapproved of the fire. Her senese of cruel humor was getting easier to understand bit by bit. I assumed she was getting used to my disdain of her race. I don't respond.
"Why do you camp away from us?" she asked. "You must be positively freezing."
"You get used to it." I mutter.
"I have wards set up. If a nug moves within fifty feet of us, I'll know."
"How nice." I comment.
Minutes tick by and I forget she's there until she speaks again. "I've been watching you. You move like an animal, tasting the wind, running your fingers along the tree trunks, smelling the grass. Your swords are wielded as if they were parts of your arm. And you guard your bow jealously, almost like losing it would be the end of the world."
I don't know what her angle is here but I answer, "Master Ilen made it for me. I lost mine in the cave that cursed me and set this whole story into motion. He is a rare talent in a craft with precious few masters and I intend to keep the bow with me a long time."
"Did he make your arrows as well?"
"No." I shake my hooded head. "I did."
"They are a notch better than most. Do you count yourself among the masters of your clan?"
"My craftsmanship in mediocre at best." I admit. "My specialty is not in the making of weapons but the using of them."
"Yes." she agreed. "There is something different about you. Even among the Wardens your ferocity is unmatched. I watched your fellows hack clumsily at the darkspawn in the Kokari while you struck them like a lighting bolt. It was a sight to behold."
I don't know what to say and my keeper once told me that this was a sign from the Creators to keep quiet. She is silent as well a spell before climbing to her feet. "Get some rest, Warden. You're no good to us half asleep."
She left me in the dying light of the campire and her warmth lingered on the spot next to me a while longer. I went over the brief conversation we had in my head until both were gone.