This was originally part of a larger idea, which wasn't quite working - but I couldn't quite shake this particular bit…Yes, it's a bit cheeky, but hey, I find it relaxing...
Bioware own all characters and locations. I only hope they don't mind my mage-warden teaching Sten a few dance steps on the side, that's all I'm saying.
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Conversations with a Qunari
"You are not what I expected."
Merran Amell looked up – and kept looking up. With the distance her eyes had to travel it was a wonder she didn't encounter a bank of clouds at the end of her visual journey. The Qunari's head was a great deal higher than her own. The Qunari's head was a great deal higher than Alistair's head – and that was counting that sticky-up bit at the front that added a couple of extra inches to his already impressive height. Templars weren't chosen just because they hated mages and were unquestioningly devout Andrastians - they were also chosen because they were tall enough to hate them devoutly from a great height.
Feeling dizzy with vertigo Merran had to take a deep breath before speaking. She noticed he didn't make much of an effort to lower his gaze to try and make it easier for her either – the result being that while Merran knew he was talking to her, to anyone observing them, he was talking to the tree branch behind her a couple of feet above.
"Huh?" Merran asked his belt buckle, because it was less painful than addressing the underside of his chin. "What were you expecting?" The little green Satinalia goose?
"Legends speak of Grey Wardens – great warriors without equal; leaders of men. You are none of these things."
Merran pursed her lips. True, she was none of the above. She was no warrior, owing to her inability to heft a sword any higher than her ankle and her aversion to the colour red. Nor was she a leader of men if you wanted to look at it from an accurate perspective. Alistair was intrinsically male – that went without saying. Zevran kept reminding everyone he was a red-blooded male (and apparently there was a distinction between Alistair-male and Zevran-male that he insisted on). So considering who was left; Morrigan, Wynne and Leliana - who were all female – this kind of made Merran a leader of one-half of men…and one dog.
She folded her arms, considering her position.
"And you are a mage," Sten said, his voice making the word 'mage' sound like 'eww, yucky slimy thing with magicky germs', except deeper than the one she was currently able to employ in her head.
"As well as a woman," he added with a frown. "This makes no sense."
Merran tapped her chin with a forefinger. Was this one of those cyclical conversations she had with the Qunari where his arguments ended up making her feel like she should magic a beard onto her chin and go stomping around camp belching, flatulating and commenting on what a great set of mammaries Wynne had? Because the last time she did that Wynne had had words with her and Alistair had had conniptions and refused to walk downwind of her.
Honestly, he was such a prude at times.
"Look Sten," Merran sighed. "We've had this conversation before. You say…" She deepened her voice, "…'you are a woman; therefore you cannot be a man'…" She added in her own voice: "And I'll say 'of course I'm not a man – I like to bathe more than once every five years'. And then you'll say…" Deep voice again, "'This is illogical – how can a woman be a Grey Warden? Women are bakers, butchers and candlestick makers. They cannot be warriors or Grey Wardens'. And then I'll say…"
"Stop," the Qunari held up a hand the size of a shield. "You spout nonsense and ridicule. I merely ask in order to understand."
Merran sighed. "Then understand this: regardless of the lace-content of their small-clothes – and I'm excluding Zevran from this argument – people fight the Blight using whatever means at their disposal. Why should it matter whether or not I'm male or female? Duncan certainly didn't care when he recruited me. Isn't it all about ability, rather than gender? I doubt the Darkspawn or the Archdemon care either."
"No."
"No? What do you mean 'no'?"
"Do you not understand this word?"
"Yes, of course I do," Merran shook her head like a wet dog, flustered by his obstinacy. "I mean what don't you understand? You came here to observe the Blight, yes?" He nodded. This was correct. "Can't you just accept that here in Ferelden women – and Holy Maker! – women mages fight too?"
"But you do not fight."
"Huh? What?"
"I have observed you during battle. You merely stand to one side, casting spells. You do not fight."
Merran smacked her forehead with the palms of her hands in sheer frustration. Grabbing a fistful of hair, she squeezed her eyes shut and growled unvoiced curses under her breath. When she re-opened her eyes, Sten was looking at her curiously.
"Why do you do this?" He asked, heading down a completely different – and just as circuitous – path. "I have seen you perform this action many times when speaking to the other Grey Warden." At Merran's questioning look he demonstrated the face-smacking, hair grabbing gesture that was fast becoming her trademark – and yes, she did seem to do it a lot when talking to Alistair. Sometimes she had wanted to do it to Alistair.
"Is it a form of meditation?" Sten continued gravely. "I have observed that you appear much calmer when you have completed this particular exercise."
Merran went very still. She sent out the tiniest magical feeler, trying to gauge Wynne and Morrigan's proximities to be far enough away from the conversation then looked earnestly up at Sten.
"Yes," she said simply. She added, "You're very observant. Actually, it's the final movement in a series of meditative exercises, designed by mages. We are after all, cooped up in a stone-tower with little else to do but study and do magic." And try and sneak weird things into the First Enchanter's afternoon tea without him noticing.
"The exercises are meant to…harmonise the physical with the mental, thus enhancing the ability to focus energies. It'd be dangerous otherwise; casting spells and having them go all over the place higgledy piggledy. People could get hurt."
Sten gave a short sharp nod. "This is similar to the meditative practices of my people," he said approvingly.
"Done as a daily exercise, it's very beneficial."
"I have noted the efficacy of your mage exercise with the other Grey Warden," Sten nodded again. He added darkly, "That one would try the patience of the Arishok."
"Well…" Merran began with a small, regretful shake of her head. "I'd teach you, but it takes years to master the movements; to be able to synchronise the correct breathing techniques with the various physical stances."
"Hm," Sten growled, pondering her words. "The other Circle Mage – she is clearly a master of this meditative technique."
"Yes, exactly!" Merran agreed. "She's so calm – and look at Morrigan." Merran shook her head sadly. "She never learned - and we all know how cranky she gets." And let's just hope she's not close enough to get cranky at me, Merran added to herself.
"A pity then," Sten said.
"Mm," Merran inclined her head. "Although…I could probably teach you some basic movements – I certainly wouldn't to anyone who wasn't familiar with meditation. They'd simply be unable to appreciate…but you…? I'm not too sure…"
"You question my ability in this area?" Sten growled at her. "The Qunari learn to meditate from an age before they attain the ability to walk."
"Well," Merran said, injecting a large dose of scepticism into her voice. "If you're sure."
"If I am to understand the Mage-who-is-a-Warden, it behoves me to learn some of your Circle customs."
With an expressive shrug, Merran instructed the giant to stand alongside her. She ran him through some 'warming up' exercises – rolling her shoulders, measured breathing, tilting her head from side to side. She cast him a sidelong look.
"Ready?" Sten nodded. "Deep breath and…put your left arm in…go on…" Sten mimicked her. "Put your left arm out…breathe and…put your left arm in and…" She shook her arm. "Do you feel the muscles relaxing? If they aren't you're just not doing it right."
"I believe so."
"Excellent! Now…put your right arm in…put your right arm out…put your right arm in…and shake – bit more shaking there, Sten – fantastic. Now this is the tough bit. Watch closely." Putting her hands up at ear level she waggled them, making a slow three-hundred and sixty degree turn which ended in a small jump. "Can you do that? If you can't I won't be surprised. It took me months to master that particular stance."
"I will attempt it for the sake of the Qunari," Sten told her with steely determination. He performed the hand-waggle and the turn - almost.
"No, no, no – you're supposed to flex your hands when you turn. Like this." Merran demonstrated again and Sten tried his best to do as she had. "All right, now let's put that all together. Ready? One. Two…"
"Put your left hand in…" Sten intoned. "Put your left hand out…Is there an incantation for the turn?"
"Of course, I was just waiting until you had a handle on the movements first…And don't break up the movement with conversation – the whole idea is to clear your mind of all thought except the words of the meditation itself."
"I understand. I will do as you say."
Merran nodded sagely. One. Two…put your left hand in, you put your left hand out…you put your left hand in and you shake it all about…you do the hokey pokey and you turn it all around…
"And that's what it's all about, really." Merran told him - and happened to look up to see Wynne, Alistair, Leliana and Zevran lined up like large skittles, gaping at the two of them in utter, soundless, - and in the case of Wynne, horrified - disbelief. The look on Alistair's face told her: You are dead, dead, dead…
"I feel refreshed," Sten told her with an approving nod. "I will practice this meditation daily. When I return to my homeland, I will in turn instruct my people."
"Really?" Merran squeaked, and cleared her throat. "That's…good to hear." Oh Maker…if the Archdemon doesn't kill me, the Qunari will – they'll invade, hunt me down and tear me limb from limb. Best make sure the Archdemon kills me first huh? It'll be less painful…
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