I wrote this story a few years ago and decided to share it only now. Due to that, the writing might not be up to my current standards and the story might be a bit cheesy. I'll be adding new chapters as I edit it. Hope you enjoy it even so.
The Korcari Wilds were a land wrapped in an ever constant haze. The mystery, the danger and tricky geography of the forest always held strangers in awe, the dread of many tales of this forest—the Witches of the Wilds, the Chasind barbarians, the phantoms in the mists—all warning even the bravest of men not to venture there. Yet in the treacherous mists dwell the elves of the Dales, the keepers of the lost lore, the walkers of the lonely path, the last Elvhenan. There, hidden in the shadows of the fading trees, stays the Dalish clan led by Keeper Solan and his First—maiden Avathiel—creature wise and uncondemning.
Alas, the last days have been troubling for the clan, as pack of feral Blight wolves made their lair near their camp and tore few of their hallas into bloody shreds of flesh and fur, and one of their brethren—their herder—shed his life in the attack of the frenzied beasts. Their hunters now stood ever vigilant, their countless arrows coated in poisons to end lives of the wolves for sure. Yet that night, when the moon stood fully upon skies and the silver tones of his light faintly illuminated the camp underneath the twisted branches of trees, the defiance of the feral beasts ended as they were struck by dozens of Dalish poisoned arrows.
But there were losses on the winners' side as well, and as the surviving elves proceeded to carry their fallen brethren to their camp, they stumbled upon yet another victim of the fierce wolves. It was a man clad in leather armour, a human, an archer whose bow bore the emblem of a bear. Surprise took over the hunters as they examined the body of the fallen intruder, for the man was still alive. Unconscious, barely breathing, heavily wounded, but alive nonetheless. They sent the fastest runner back to the camp to tell the Keeper about the dying man, asking him to determine the stranger's fate.
"Leave him there. If he doesn't succumb to his fate soon enough, the wild beasts will take care of him." he spoke, relentless.
"No!" the young Avathiel cried. "If we cannot show humans mercy, how can we expect the same of them? How can we expect them to accept us and stop suspecting us if we do not show them a single act of compassion, when we defy their smallest attempts at peace? They think we're as savage as wild dogs and a murderous lot to that. I say we help him, it is the least we can do."
"You are young Avathiel and you are as naïve as you are talented. The wounds of the Dalish will never heal, not in the thousands of years. We cannot let our guard down, we cannot forget the horrors we suffered. We cannot coexist with humans!"
"Then you are a fool!" the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. "I am sorry, Keeper. I ask you for a permission to tend to the human. Any consequences lay on my shoulders and I shall bear proudly any punishment you'll see fit, should the worst happen."
"Then know this: I will allow it because you are a daughter of my sister. But if your actions were to endanger the clan in any way, any kinship I ever felt for you will be gone."
"Ma serannas, Keeper."
And so on the Keeper's order they carried the human to their camp and Avathiel agreed to take care of him in her aravel. He was feverish, his strength wavering, but he was not beyond saving, not yet. Avathiel cast rejuvenating spell so that he could regain a bit of his stamina as she examined his wounds. His leather cuirass was torn by the claws of Blight wolves and so were his breeches. His shoulder hit by stray Dalish arrow, the poison in which it had been coated causing his fever. Avathiel quickly mixed a few herbs and juices to create an antidote and poured the bitter liquid into his mouth, quickly followed by a goblet of water. Afterwards, used magic to cool the man's scorching skin.
She put dried elfroot and spindleweed into warm water and let it leach while she proceeded to take off his armour. She was gentle and cautious, unbuckling the armour with one hand, stopping the mild bleeding with magic emanating from the other. Once he was clothed in nothing but his breeches she let the allied spirit guide her mind, searching for wounds not visible by mere sight and found that he had suffered none, thank the Creators. She then took to washing his wounds and scratches with decoction she prepared to prevent inflammation. Finally she brushed the sweaty black hair from his face and washed away the dirt still lingering there, when she found herself stroking his stubbly cheek. Upon realizing, she briskly moved her hand away and focused, instead, on her task. A flickering light of blue magical energy sprang from her slender fingers as she finally began closing his wounds. And as all of her mana was spent, she drifted off to sleep on the other side of her aravel, exhausted.
He remained unconscious for yet another day, but his fever was slowly dying down. And the next day as Avathiel kneeled beside him when she tended to him, the tingling shivers of her magic awoke him. He squirmed a bit and slowly opened his eyes, adjusted to the dark void of near death still, bright light blinding him for a while. But then his eyes regained their sight and he gazed upon her, astounded. Avathiel usually wore her hair in firm chignon, but that day she went to bathe in a nearby river and left her hair down to dry. And so, as he saw his saviour, the pale gentility of her soft skin and the beauty of her azure eyes engulfed by the soft waves of hair of golden tint, he uttered these words: "Am I in heavens?"
Avathiel smiled teasingly and said: "Welcome back, stranger. I'm afraid that you must remain disappointed, for you remain in the realm of mortals still."
He was not the most handsome man and yet Avathiel still found her heart pounding in an unnatural rhythm and her breath growing shallower with each word she spoke. Her blue eyes melding with icy grey of his, causing her cheeks to flush, an occurrence she hoped he would not notice.
He shifted a bit and tried to sit up.
"If you want to sit up that's alright," she said, helping him. "But you should not strain yourself overmuch. You're not yet completely healed and it will take at least another two days before you regain your strength fully."
"Thank you, my lady, for saving me."
"It is hardly my credit alone, stranger; were you not so stubborn and determined to survive, my healing wouldn't have helped you."
"My name is Nathaniel Howe, my lady; I'm a Grey Warden." he introduced himself.
"A Grey Warden?" she smiled. "Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, you Grey Wardens were always stubborn lot." Her smile faded as her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
"What is it, my lady? What makes you sad?" He cursed himself mentally, for he thought it was his fault.
"I am sorry, ser Howe, it's just that my father joined the Grey Wardens prior to the battle at Ostagar. He never came back."
"I'm sure he was a valuable asset to the guild. It's not often we have Dalish elves amongst us, your people's prowess in archery is unrivalled."
"Maybe." she wondered. "But it is not my family I wished to talk about. I should fetch you some meal, no doubt you're starving."
She left her aravel and returned a few moments later, carrying a bowl of fresh berries, cooked mushrooms and roasted game, as well as a pitcher of cool water. He took the bowl from her hands, the sensation of his warm touch sending shivers down her spine. For a moment they remained that way, frozen mid-motion, their eyes burying into each other. Then Nathaniel broke the moment of silent fascination: "My lady, your face is as beautiful as your soul."
Avathiel blushed before replying cautiously: "You shouldn't tell these things to elven maidens you barely know, ser Howe."
"I was being genuine, my lady." he protested.
I should certainly hope so. Avathiel thought but did not reply. Instead she handed him a wooden spoon and small knife.
"I should take my leave. I have other duties to attend to." her tone was seemingly cold and uncertain. It felt as if she were afraid to stay with him. And afraid she was, for he was making her vulnerable. Foolish emotions, craving her attention, emerged within her, caused by his presence.
I cannot let that be. It is not right to fall in love with a human.
She was just leaving when he broke the silence once more:
"It occurs to me that I hadn't asked your name, my lady." he said. "I'm afraid your beauty left me a bit dull."
"I am called Avathiel." and with those words and a slight smile on her lips, she left the aravel.
And her inner voices—the heart and the reason—were arguing amongst themselves once again.