Daughter of the People
Chapter 1: The Two Trees
The Free Marches: Clan Lavellan 9:40 Dragon Age
"Clan mates, our day…has finally come!"
Ellana, Captain of the Hunters of Clan Lavellan stood before the great bonfire, pacing before the flames; she was tall for an elf and slender. Long raven colored hair flowed like dark silk down past her shoulders, two long braids ran down the sides of her face, framing her face in their dark glory. The gentle points of her ears were easy to spot, their pale skin a great contrast with her dark black hair. Violet colored eyes flashed in the fire light, the determination their made even more intense by the glow of the flickering flame.
Ellana's intensity had never been questioned, it had been her fire that had made her the hunter she was today, the woman she was today. Despite her…dubious beginning, all of the clan now saw her as a powerful ally, and servant to the clan.
And why not, she might say. She lived and would one day die for Clan Lavellan, her family.
Family…was all.
All around her the clan had gathered, come to hear her report, her words. The young and the old, the tall and the small, all had come at her request, and with the blessing of their Keeper. What she had to say tonight was not just for the ears of Istimaethoriel, or her First Mahanon it was for all of Clan Lavellan to hear. Those that had accompanied her took their place just off to her right should anyone feel the need to ask anything of them. It was not hard to notice that most were looking a little green tonight, not that Ellana blamed any of them in the least. What they had seen…it was not for the faint of heart.
She glanced over at them, her friends, her brothers and sisters. They had shed blood together, played together as children; none questioned her place here now. Most met her gaze evenly, offering their quiet strength and support.
For many years now she had been their captain, leading them on the hunt, bringing down game, and defending the clan when they had to
Those brave faces pleased her, after everything that had happened; it was good to know that she was not alone.
A Dalish hunter was never alone; the love of their clan was always there, even when its members were gone.
Ellana winced.
Even when the ones they loved most…were gone.
It was always the same for her, being back in their autumn camp. She had too many memories of this place, too much pain.
Her eyes drifted over to the right, over the tiny hill behind them.
The two trees awaited her.
She tried not to think about it, not now, the clan needed her. They needed to hear her words.
They needed to understand what was coming.
She and her hunting party had only just returned from the site of the Shemlen's latest travesty. What they had seen, what they had heard…no longer could they keep silent, keep to their forest and hope for the best.
What they had seen, what the shemlen mages and Templars had done to each other, and to those around them, it was not just a horrible, it was obscene, evil.
Ellana frowned.
Such evil…could no longer be tolerated.
"We have heard the tales of the shemlen wars," she began, her pacing quickened as her heart beat faster.
"Those elves that have fled Kirkwall and other places tell us of how the shemlen chantry has fallen apart. Its Templars no longer guard its mages. Its mages no longer rot in their towers, waiting for their chantry to call on them for aid."
Her frown deepened.
"Now we have heard that the Orlesian Empire, the thieves that stole the Dales from us, are also at war. Their leaders fighting like scavengers eager to pick the bones clean from what they tore from us and each other."
"Let the shemlen fight!" a voice cried out, the widow of a hunter who died years ago, a hunter who had died the same time she had lost Thrad.
Ellana did nothing to silence her; she knew the woman's pain.
She shared it, as did all who had lost loved ones to the humans.
"Let them wipe each other out! Maybe then we can take back what is ours!"
Several of the clan nodded, agreeing with her sentiment. Clan Lavellan had never openly attacked humans, but they were not above defending themselves.
That was no longer enough.
Ellana gave her a sad look.
"We can no longer wait," she continued, "Yes, we could sit back and watch the shemlen kill each other, but in doing so, we allow this evil to continue, we allow it to spread to other lands, lands that our people travel."
She paused, letting the fire wrap her in shadows, a shadow she now cast over her people.
"The shemlen care nothing for those that get caught in their war. I have seen it. We followed the sounds of battle this morning, to a shemlen trading post at the edge of this forest.
Ellana shook her head.
"Only now…We found no trading post, only a massacre. Mages giving themselves to battle and to demons, Templars striking down unarmed traders because the abominations just happened to be nearby, we took prisoners, a Templar and two mages. One of the mages tried to use blood magic, to bend us to his will, he was slain quickly. The Templar demanded we release him, that in their world we would be exterminated if we did not…"
She spat on the ground.
"His arrogance was sickening, he died too. The last mage was too badly wounded to heal. It is from him that our suspicions about the shemlen wars were confirmed. The Chantry has fallen apart, and now its slaves hunt each other while the priests hide in their temples praying for a deliverance that will never come, and is not deserved…"
Ellana shook her head.
"They…they killed everyone, everyone…even the…the…"
She shivered with rage, memories twelve years old now surged forward. She saw the two trees, she saw herself on her knees still weak with fever weeping before the two trees.
Life would spring from death, that was the way, but it did little for the pain of the one left behind.
She took a shuddering breath, gathering her control once more, forcing down her fury.
She would find release for that soon enough.
"They even slew the children," she growled, "Da'len that could have done nothing to aid their enemies."
Many in the clan shook their heads.
The cruelty of the shemlen knew no bounds; they knew that better than most.
She was not the only one who lost loved ones the day she had lost Thrad.
"Do we flee then Keeper," the clan's craft master called out, likely seeking her to stay Ellana's anger, "Do we preserve what we have and flee this nightmare?"
The keeper sighed, leaning hard against her staff. Long had she led them, wisely too, but this was a storm like none they had seen. It could not simply be outrun.
The Keeper understood that, it had taken her longer to understand, but finally she did…
Now Ellana had an ally.
"We will move on," the Keeper said, "it is too dangerous for us to remain, but we cannot simply run. If what Ellana says is true, we can no longer simply avoid this chaos."
Ellana did not smile, but she almost did. For months they had been hearing about the chaos caused by the shemlen wars. Now that they had confirmation, they could finally act.
What they heard, what they had seen, was horrifying, it was chaos…
…But…
Chaos could also breed opportunity.
Ellana had long preached of bringing the people closer together. That simply meeting every ten years was no longer enough. If the Dalish wanted a home, a true home, then they needed to be more…proactive.
The Keeper had thought this merely a hazy dream, too much time had passed, the clans so different in their methods and ideas it would take something extreme to bring them all together.
The Orlesians, the mages, the Templars, they were all tearing at each other like animals, their armies splintered and weak, reduced to warring factions.
The shemlen were now divided as much as the people. Only they were openly hostile to one another.
That was an opportunity that could not be passed up.
Orlais had no mages to call on. The Chantry had no Templars to smite down Elvhen magic. Their world was ripe for the picking. The great Orlesian army was slaughtering itself in droves over the Dales, if the flat ears that they had sheltered and traders they had met could be believed.
Ellana's eyes flashed with dark excitement.
Their time…had finally come.
"We must move carefully," she said, reigning in her excitement. "The shemlen are cunning and ruthless. If they realize that we are moving against them, they might try to reunify and fight back. That cannot be allowed."
Ellana found herself thinking about what could come next, what their first move needed to be. Word would need to be sent to the other clans. It would take convincing some of the other keepers could be very stubborn.
Once they had force large enough, they would be able to move back into the Dales. They would arrive as separate clans, at first, so not to draw too much attention, doing their best to avoid the fighting shems. The chantry, lulled into complacency by the familiar sight of passing Dalish would think nothing of it, and even if they did, they did not have the soldiers to stop the people. No elvhen should be able to advance with little or no problem. Then…when the time was right…they start liberating the various cities of the Dales. It would be slow word at first, but then after a few victories they would have the numbers to get things rolling far more quickly. They would be snowflake that falls on a mountainside, a snowflake that sets off a massive avalanche. Their city brethren would be set free, and in their gratitude would join the cause.
Ellana pursed her lips.
There would be some issues with that at first. Many of the Keepers, not to mention their clan mates did not see the city elves as truly elvhen. Some thought them no better than their shemlen masters. Ellana had always had a different view; after all, her parents had been born in the shemlen cities…
They had produced a daughter who was no less Dalish than anyone else born to the clan. The Keepers would need to come to accept that.
It would take a bit of work, but with time and patience they would be able to convince the rest of the Elvhen of the value of numbers. Meanwhile they would launch raids against the feuding Templars and mages, fueling their war, making any chance of peace impossible.
The mages and Templars would continue fighting; the survivors of that fighting would be easily hunted down and destroyed. Any elven mages would be welcomed provided that they turn their back on the corrupt circle and its chantry.
Ellana felt a cold shiver run down her spine. In two year's time, maybe three, they would likely be poised to attack Halamshiral directly. The shem nobles would be overwhelmed; they would ransom the survivors back to their families. The gold and supplies would be used to build up their new kingdom's defenses.
Orlais could still be a problem, but as long as its leaders kept fighting, it would remain only a minor threat. Plus, if the elvhen could destroy the bulk of the Imperial army, they would find themselves under siege by their enemies to the north.
That would give the elves the time they needed. They would dig in, and ready their kingdom to repel any invaders.
Justice would finally be served. The Dales…would be theirs once more.
"Most important of all," she continued, "We have learned the shemlen Divine herself has summoned the leaders of both the mages and Templars to a great Conclave in mountains to the south. She seeks to restore order, and bring her wayward slaves back into the fold."
Ellana shook her head.
"That cannot be allowed. I will go to this Conclave, see what the leaders of the various factions intend. If the Conclave fails we will be free to move as one people."
"What if it doesn't fail," Mahanon asked, "What if the shemlen chantry manages to restore itself to order?"
Ellana's ears lowered.
"I will see that it does not. I will be crafty and smart. I will make sure that the Templars and mages leave the Conclave intent on continuing their war."
She looked around, taking in the faces of those she loved, those she had sworn to protect.
"I will be careful, and return with good news. Be patient, but be ready to move when I return. We should send word to the other clans, prepare them as well."
Her eyes fell on the Keeper.
She smiled slightly.
"We have waited so long to bring the old ways back."
She once again faced the others, faced the two trees behind them, faced what she had lost, and what she hoped to gain.
Her smile widened.
"We…shall wait no longer."
IOI
The next morning Ellana stood before the two trees, her travelling clothes and cloak blowing gently in the autumn breeze.
She closed her eyes, listening to the wind whistling through the branches, the gentle keening filled her ears.
It sounded like the song of mourning, the song she had sung so long ago.
She bowed her head.
The graves were almost gone now. Twelve summers was a long time. Grass had grown over the mounds. The two trees, though still small were brightly colored with red and yellow leaves.
A single tear ran down her face.
Thrad's was more noticeable, but that was only because of its size. Next to him…next…next…
Ellana almost whimpered.
The tiny hole had been almost nothing, but it had held what should have been her future, joys ripped from her far too soon.
She shook her head, remembering a babe's cooing in her ears, the feel of his warm little body in her arms.
She took a shuddering breath.
He had been hers, hers and Thrad's, but he had only drawn breath for only two weeks, and then…he had been gone.
Even after twelve years, the pain was still sharp.
"No parent should have to bury their child."
Ellana did not turn; Mahanon had followed her this morning, the robes he wore as First swished around him. His ash blond hair now shoulder length all but buried his tiny pointed ears.
She almost smiled.
Thrad had been Mahanon's best friend growing up. He had often joked with the First about his small ears.
Mahanon had always responded with a quip, how the size of his ears made it easier for him to tune out distractions, that his training as Keeper was progressing better because of it.
"Falon' Din watches over him now," she said softly, "And what the friend of the dead cannot see, my Thrad most certainly can."
She shook her head.
"I miss them both, but that does not mean that they are not safe."
Mahanon leaned against his staff, though they were the same age, the elvhen First looked far old than he should, the stress of his preparations to lead their clan taking its toll.
He gave her a worried look.
"What you are doing is dangerous," he said.
"I have no choice," she replied.
"Yes you do," he snapped, "You can stay here, serve our clan as you always have."
She turned to face him.
"I am serving our clan."
"You would see us go to war."
"I would see our people free, with a home of our own."
"We have a home," he said hotly.
Ellana shook her head.
Mahanon was no coward, but he thought that they could gain what they wanted through patience and negotiation.
Ellana did not.
Her ears lowered in anger.
"We can no longer hide Mahanon," she said, "The Templars and mages are no longer caged, they have surrendered to ambition that ambition will spread."
She shook her head.
"They believe that their evil is justified, that slaughtering all those who oppose them will lead to a greater good. How long will it be until they turn their eyes on the people? How long until they decide that we no longer have a place in this world?"
Mahanon said nothing.
Ellana continued.
"We are stronger than you believe. Stronger than they think we are."
She sighed.
"Tell me lethallin, when did we decide that 'not to submit' meant 'to hide forever?' When did we decide that evil should not be opposed?"
The First shook his head.
"War is not the only way."
"No," she agreed, "But it is only way I can see."
She kneeled down, rested her hand on the two graves, one holding her love and soulmate, the other, her child, taken far too soon.
She sighed.
"Falon' Din keep you both," she purred, "and may the gods grant me the strength to do what must be done."
She turned to leave, adjusting her quiver on her back, her daggers at her side.
She glanced back at her childhood friend.
"Dareth shiral, Mahanon," she said, "Look after our people until I return."
IOI
She began to walk away, out into a world of fear and cold.
Mahanon could not let her leave, not without trying one last time.
"This is not about Thrad," he shouted.
"No," she said.
"It is not about your child!"
Ellana paused.
"No," she said.
He glared into her back.
"You don't have to be what some old crone said you would be!"
That stopped her in her tracks.
For a moment, the First thought she would turn back.
He sighed.
Ellana had only spoken once about what had happened during her first Arlathvhen, she had been a child then, but what she had heard from one of the Elders of another clan had followed her everyday of her life.
She had told him the tale the day after they had buried Thrad, two weeks after they had buried her babe.
It was a prophecy, of sorts; the elder said that Ellana had the fires of destiny burning in her eyes. That she would be a nightmare to the enemies of their people that thousands would fall before her on bended knee that her name would echo through all the ages to come…
That she…Ellana of Clan Lavellan would be the favored of the Dread Wolf, that he would favor her above all others….
That she…would belong to him, and no other.
She would be his body and spirit.
She said nothing. Had she heard, he knew she had, all she had to do now was step back.
Return to those that loved her.
Ellana shuddered. She glanced back at her friend one last time, and at the graves of her family.
With a heavy sigh she turned.
"Good bye Mahanon," she said, "May the gods watch over you."
She turned away, began her way down the darkest of roads.
Her old friend sighed.
He had tried, perhaps that was all he could do.
"Mythal protect you Lethallan," he murmured.
"Gods watch over us all."