This started out as an illustration to practice my photoshop skills. Then I wanted to add a caption that turned into a one shot. Oh, well.
The illustration is on DeviantArt under the same name as the story.
I've been fascinated by the fact that most elves in Dragon Age seem to walk barefoot. I love the idea of it aesthetically, but since the creators have given no reason beyond that I decided to come up with something myself.
Sometime during the night Anders is woken up from his much needed sleep by continuous knocking on his door that slowly grows more agitated. It takes him a minute to orientate himself after being woken so abruptly, and he stretches his limbs that still ache from the work of the day before. Or today? He realises he has no clue what time of night it is, and for how long he has actually been asleep.
"Anders?", a muffled voice asks through the door, "I know you're in there."
The mystery person on the other side of the door has apparently run out of patience, and...wait. Is that actually who he thinks it is, calling his name?
Anders gets up, dressed in nothing more than a loose shirt and leggings, and crosses his clinic on bare feet. He opens his door and to his surprise it is Fenris's lanky frame that is standing in the doorway, his markings illuminated by the flames slowly dying in the hearth. The elf is not wearing a breastplate and gauntlets, revealing the lines of lyrium all along the arms to the fingertips.
"Fenris?" he says, slowly, cautiously, before adding, "Have you come to insult me some more?" in a sharper tone.
Fenris scowls at that, but doesn't take the bait. "I…" he clears his throat, "I require your help, mage."
Anders is stunned into silence for all but a second before he lets out a laugh. Fenris's scowls deepens, but Anders can't help himself. "You require my help? Well, isn't that ironic." He says, but when Fenris shifts his weight Anders doesn't miss the flash of pain on the elf's face.
"You're hurt." He says, the healer in him taking over.
Fenris nods, the admission costing him obvious effort. It must be something serious if the elf has come all the way to him. Normally he prefers to stay by himself in his crumbling mansion, and heal his own wounds through non-magical means. Unless he's actually dying that is. Only then he'll allow Anders to use his healing magic on him. Anders has to admit that he's more than a little curious to find out what has hurt Fenris so bad that's he willing to speak to 'the abomination'.
So he steps back to let the elf in and gestures to one of the cots lining the wall of his clinic then turns to build up the fire again. From the corner of his eye he watches Fenris limp across the room and then lower himself on a cot.
When the fire is burning again, and Anders is sure he has enough light to work by, he focuses his attention on his patient. In the light of the fire notices how pale Fenris is, how a sheen of sweat clings to the elf's skin. He wouldn't be surprised if he was actually running a fever, whatever the injury. He wonders how long Fenris has walked around with it, before he decided to come to him.
"So what has hurt the mighty warrior so badly, that he has to come to a lowly apostate for help?" Anders asks.
"I have no need for your sarcasm." Fenris responds, his scowl still firmly in place.
"But you do have need of my healing skills. So show me."
Fenris hesitates a moment, then lifts his right foot up and lays it across his knee, the sole angled towards the healer so the lights fall on it. Anders sucks in a breath. The ball of Fenris's foot is an angry red, and in the middle of it…
"Maker's breath, Fenris! Is that a nail?!"
He doesn't wait for an answer and grabs the foot by the heel and pulls it towards him to get a closer look. He can feel Fenris tense from the physical contact, but ignoring it he studies the appendix. And indeed, there's a nail imbedded in the elf's foot, very deep by the look of it, the area around it clearly infected.
"What? Where?," he shakes his head in horror, then settles on the most relevant question, "How long has this been in here?"
"Two days." Fenris answers, his face tight both from pain and the discomfort of being touched. "I've attempted to take it out myself but with no success. I lacked the proper tools."
"You fool." Anders says with no real heat as he lowers Fenris' leg to the ground and gets up to grab a rag, a bottle of alcohol and, most importantly, a pair of firm pincers. He settles himself down on his knees, with his tools, in front of the cot. The flames of the fire illuminating both him and the stubborn elf in front of him.
"This is going to be very painful," he starts, "I could numb your food with magic but.."
"No magic." Fenris cuts him off, "I can handle whatever pain you are going to inflict on me."
Anders snorts. "I was expecting nothing less."
He pulls up the elf's foot again and removes the wrapping that usually covers most of it but leaves the toes and heel bare. Elves and their strange footwear. Or lack thereof.
He picks up his alcohol soaked rag and start with cleaning the infected area as much as he can without touching the nail. When that's done he picks up his pincers and gets a grip on the nail. He hears Fenris suck in a sharp breath as he starts to pull on it gently.
"Can't you just pull it out fast?" Fenris asks, his voice a little hoarse.
"I can't. That might damage your foot more."
To distract the elf, and because Anders is honestly curious, he attempts to start a conversation while he works.
"Why do you elves walk around barefoot anyway?" he asks, trying to keep his tone conversational. He can feel Fenris giving him a look, so he doesn't expect an maybe Fenris does need the distraction, because after clearing his throat he starts talking.
"Elven slaves…are not permitted to wear shoes in the Imperium." he starts hesitantly, then he picks up, "The Masters think it's a punishment. So after I escaped from Danarius, one of the first things I did was steal a pair of boots. But I found that it made me feel…less grounded. Less connected. As if my reflexes were better when my toes where in connection with the earth underneath me. It's strange, but I can't explain it any other way."
Anders listens, while he keeps working on pulling the nail out, bit by bit.
"I asked Merrill once. She said it was because elves have a connection to nature that you humans lack. I feel no cultural bonds at all towards the elves, Dalish or other, but apparently this is something that does bind us all together, willingly or not. I do not care much for the reasoning behind it, but if it makes me fight better, then I will forego footwear. It's a shame that I cannot tell the Magisters in Tevinter that their punishment is not a punishment at all, though."
The last thing is said with something that could almost qualify as a chuckle, but it's cut off as Fenris squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip when Anders pulls out the last part of the nail with considerably more force.
"I don't think I've ever heard you talk this much." He says to the elf as he studies the nail that's now lying in the palm of his hand, "Andraste's flaming knickers, would you look at that! That is one hell of a nail."
Fenris's only response is a snort, so Anders puts the nail down and pours a generous amount of alcohol over his foot to shut him up. Then he rubs the wound clean with the alcohol soaked rag and binds it. Then he binds it some more, because he knows that his warnings to the elf to stay of his feet will fall on deaf ears anyway.
When he's done an awkward silence falls over the clinic. Anders doesn't really know what else to say to Fenris, so he gets up and starts cleaning up his tools.
Fenris replaces his foot wrapping then raises himself up from the cot, trying to keep as much weight of his injured foot, and proceeds to stand somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room.
"I'd warn you to stay of your feet, but I know that's not going to happen, just.." Anders gestures at nothing in particular, "get some rest, and remember to clean the bandages. And if it doesn't get better, come back. I'd might actually have to use magic on it then."
They fall silent again. Fenris just nods instead of arguing on the use of magic, then limps to the door.
"Do you want to keep the nail?" Anders asks suddenly, but immediately regrets his question when he sees the incredulous look the elf gives him.
"I want that infernal thing as far away from me as possible." Fenris deadpans, but Anders swears he can see something of smirk ghost over his face. And just when he thinks Fenris is going to limp out the door without saying anything, the elf turns.
"Thank you for the help, mage." He says, before he disappears into the darkness of the night.
Anders is left staring at the nail, which he swears is about 2 inches long. Then he turns, puts it up on a shelf as a reminder that Fenris apparently does have the capability to be decent towards him once in a while, before he drags himself back to bed.
The next day, all is right in Thedas again as Anders and Fenris are back at each other's throats.