Fic Title Reference: Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
Anais Nin
Chapter title, "in the beauty of the day" references a poem called Bread and Roses. I found the poem/song through Google and may use it for more titles or other references in the future.
Disclaimer-- As much as I wish otherwise, I do not own DAO. I do not own any of the characters there-in, including the female Cousland origin character, though I would like to think my interpretation of her is my own. I do not own the environment, events, dialogue, etc.
I expect and will receive nothing from this story but the joy of paying homage to excellence. (Imitation, after all, is sincere flattery.) Nonetheless, I do work hard on my little stories, and I love them. Please don't repost or reprint them without my knowledge.
Further, like all fanfic writers, I am fueled by reviews. If you like and want more, please encourage me by telling me so. If you see something you dislike or think needs to be fixed, I will be happy to learn...but please be gentle!
*Most of the Dialogues in this fic are quoted from or modeled off of lines from DAO. I have tried to keep this to a minimum*
Notes-- This 3-chapter stand-alone fic is a fragment of what or may not eventually become a longer, more comprehensive fic. If I waited until that fic was in a condition to post, I would never post at all, and I wanted to post.
Once again, it may be helpful to know that in this particular story arc, Jory accompanied Duncan to Highever, but not to the castle. Jory never entered the castle and never saw Elan. Duncan sent him to Ostagar w/ Fergus, carrying a message to Alistair. This was before the attack on the Castle, of which Alistair is completely ignorant.
The guard had said Alistair was to the north of the mage encampment, and Wynne had mentioned two Grey Wardens heading that direction, though she'd specified the destination of only one, so Elan continued walking.
She strolled up a flagstone incline into an enclosure that had once been a building. The sound of voices caught her attention, and she turned toward them, east up a second incline.
Two men were standing there.
"Tell her I will not be harrassed in this manner!" one of the men shouted. He was on the younger side of middle age, with dark skin, rough dark hair and a petulant expression. Elan had already begun to associate robes like the ones he wore with being a mage.
The other man...well...the very sight of him was enough to bring her up short.
The late afternoon sun slid over him like a carress, illuminating him almost as if the light came from within. His short, rumpled harvest-gold hair gleamed about his head like a halo. He held himself with a casual grace, arms crossed carelessly over his impossibly broad chest as he tilted his head back to regard the mage.
"Yes, I was harrassing you by delivering a message." There was an open, easy humor about his face and a warm, irrepressible humor in his voice that appealed to her. In the oddest way, he reminded her a bit...just a bit...of Fergus. The resemblance went no deeper than his teasing confidence, but at the moment, that was enough to make her feel both comforted and more than a little homesick.
"Your glibness does you no credit," the mage snapped.
Alistair glanced over the mage's shoulder, seeking an escape route, and found himself locking eyes with a girl standing in the shadows at the edge of the enclousure. He never saw her coming. He certainly hadn't heard her, which was more than a bit of a surprise, given the amount of noise the stout soles of most boots could produce against the flagstone foundations of the ruins.
The girl looked him straight in the eye, obviously registering and acknowledging his awareness of her presence, but if he'd been hoping she'd demand his attention and extract him from the situation in which he found himself, it seemed he was destined to be disappointed. If anything, she seemed interested in the proceedings. Great, Alistair thought with a wry sigh, just what I need, someone to enjoy watching me squirm.
"Enough!" The mage shouted, "I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!" He stormed off.
Alistair turned to the girl still waiting silently just inside the stone archwork. They regarded one another expectantly. Alistair knew what he wanted...he wanted her to explain why she seemed to be looking for him and what it was she wanted. What she might expect from him, on the other hand, that was a mystery...not that he wouldn't be willing to oblige if he could.
"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," he said brightly, giving her an opening.
"I know exactly what you mean," Elan said. She wondered if he could hear the sharp, bitter edges underlying the wry surface of her tone.
It's like a party; we could all stand in a circle and hold hands," Alistair suggested, sounding for all the world like a naughty little boy faced with the prospect of some particularly amusing mischief.
Somehow the impression soothed the aching corners of Elan's battered heart. She wondered if he'd intended his words to have that effect.
"That would give the darkspawn something to think about," he concluded, sounding utterly self-satisified. The faint twinkle in the depths of his warm brown eyes made Elan chuckle slightly in spite of herself.
"That argument I saw...what was it about?" she asked, just as he had expected.
"With the mage? The Circle is here at the king's request, and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just love letting mages know how unwelcome they are. Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position. I was once a templar."
"That would be awkward," Elan agreed. She hadn't been aware a templar was the sort of thing you stopped being, but she supposed now probably wasn't the time to ask.
"I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult—sending me as her messenger—and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we're all to cooperate and get along." Alistair sighed. "Apparently, they didn't get the same speech. Wait, we haven't met have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?" he continued skeptically, beginning his nefarious plan to find out who she was and what it was she wanted.
She snickered. "Would that make your day worse?"
Alistair scoffed. "Hardly, I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given second."
"You must be Alistair," Elan said. She understood now why Duncan hadn't bothered telling her how to recognize Alistair. This man was Alistair because he simply couldn't be anyone else.
"That's me," he agreed, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He didn't recognize her, which had to mean he'd never seen her. If he'd seen her, he'd remember. "Alistair of the Grey Wardens, at your service. Did Duncan mention me? Nothing bad I hope?"
"Uh," Elan mumbled, feeling awkward. "No." Nothing good, either. Just your name, really.
Alistair didn't notice. He was thinking.
If Duncan had mentioned him to this girl, that had to mean she had spoken to Duncan. Which was a bit surprising, really, as he hadn't really expected Duncan's return for another day or two at the earliest, something that had caused him no small amount of worry when he realized how quickly a decisive battle with the darkspawn seemed to be approaching. But, it couldn't be helped. Duncan needed recruits, and recruits had to be tested...
The last Alistair had heard, Duncan had obtained permission from the Teyrn of Highever to test his Master at Arms, a man by the name of Ser Gilmore. By all reports, Gilmore had harboured an ambition to be approached by the Wardens since childhood, when he had been greatly impressed by the widespread tales of the order that swept Fereldan as a result of their reinstatement by King Maric. But at the time he'd dispatched his letter, Duncan had not yet had a chance to speak with the man himself.
All of which seemed rather moot, as whoever this girl was, she wasn't a man by the name of Ser Gilmore, that much was certain.
