Evlish terms for reference:

Emma lath = my love

Lethallin/lethallan = clansman

Ma'arlath = I love you

Vhenan'ara = heart's desire

Nae = Negative, or just No

Ar tu na'din = I will kill you

Shemlen = quick children (insults for humans)

Ma halam = you are finished

Halam sahlin = this ends now

Ar tu na'lin emma mi = I will see your blood on my blade

Ma vhenan = my heart

len'alas lath'din = dity child that no one loves

seth'lin = thin blood

Elvhen'alas = dirt elves

Harellan = trickster, traitor to one's kind

Ir abelas = I'm sorry, expression of grief

Ma serannas = thank you, expression of gratitude

ma sa'lath = my one love

dareth shiral = farewell

The shrieks were certainly quiet for being able to sneak up on their seasoned group, Zevran thought to himself as he sliced through yet another creature with his twin blades. But, ultimately unthreatening for all the good their element of surprise had done them. Or, so he thought as he turned from the dead creature to see his companions felling their own beats easily. But he slipped his gaze to the Warden, just in time to see her blades fall from her fingers, tears streaming from her face.

"Emma lath..." she breathed, stepping towards a twisted ghoul in tattered leather armour.

Tattered...Dalish armour...oh no...

Zevran rushed forward, as did the others, but something in them kept them back as the ghoul began to speak. His speech was retched, his voice hazed with pain, his unseeing eyes staring straight at the young Dalish woman.

"Stay away from me lethallan! Do not...want to hurt you...stay away...I am...sick!"

"No!" Eralen stepped forward towards the creature. "Lethallin...no!...there must be a way to heal you! I have to heal you!"

She cupped his face and flinched when his flesh burnt her, but she did not pull away.

"No help...too late...for me lethallan..." he rasped. "Ma'arlath, vhenan'ara...I'm so sorry..."

His hands wrapped themselves around her neck and she screamed. Only then did the others break from their daze to rush to her aid, Alistair ripped the ghoul from her throat and threw him to the ground, snapping his neck from the impact. Eralen broke from the revere she had been in since she'd sunk to her knees after Tamlen's attack, and crawled to his side, cupping his tortured black skin in her hands.

"No! No!" she cried. "Nae lethallin...nae! Emma lath! Ma ar'lath! Ma'arlath...Ma'arlath lethallin!"

She heaved great heart-wrenching sobs in between her frenzied babbling of Elvish, and there was nothing any of them could do but look on helplessly. Zevran tore his gaze away. He wished he could turn off his ears. The pain in her cries, even if he understood only a fraction of their meaning, was too much to bare. It was surely a crime for such a beautiful woman to be in such pain. He could not stand to see her in such a state, surely his own heart, shrivelled and frozen as he believed it was, was breaking to hear such agonising sorrow spill forth from her tiny frame. Why did Alistair not do something? Say something? Why was no one doing anything to soothe her?

Zevran couldn't take it any more, he broke away from the rest and crouched beside her, wrenching her from the corpse and proceeding to hold her firmly against him.

"That's enough mi amor," he murmured. "He is at peace. Let him go."

He let her cry against him, looking down at what was once a young Dalish hunter, and now just a shrivelled husk of darkspawn taint. Eventually she calmed, and though she quietened down Zevran did not let her go, just loosened his grip.

"I'm so sorry...who was he?" Alistair eventually murmured.

"He was called Tamlen." Eralen sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her eyes downcast.

"Tamlen? Then he was the one who was with you when...I'm sorry..." Alistair said. "This is what happens when the Taint is left unchecked, it's better for him to have it end...it really is a mercy."

Zevran heaved a sigh. He watched the other Warden go, and felt the woman in his arms go rigid. He took once glance at her tattooed face, to see it contorted in a snarl of pure fury. Zevran was an assassin by nature, he could tell when death was coming, and he predicated the blonde Warden's imminent death in the growl of "Shemlen!" from their leader, as she shook herself from his grip and stole his Crow dagger from his belt, charging at the unsuspecting ex-Templar.

"Eralen! Don't!" Zevran managed to get up and catch her in his arms, holding her about the waist as she thrashed against him, trying desperately to reach Alistair.

Alistair, who had been oblivious to his near-murder, spun around to see the growling, howling, hissing Dalish warrior fix him with a look of such fury he stepped back from it in fear.

"Ar tu na'din!" she screamed. "Stupid shemlen!You know nothing of suffering! Ma halam! Halam sahlin! Ar tu na'lin emma mi shemlen! What do you know of mercy?! Of grief?!"

"Eralen, please calm down," Leliana tried to soothe, only to turn the Dalish's savage eyes on her.

"Calm down?! What do any of you shemlen know what it is to suffer?!" she shrieked. "Len'alas lath'din! All of you! What could any of you understand about us? I have lost emma lath! My lethallin – ma vhenan! I lost emma lath to this Blight you shemlen brought down upon us, and now I run around trying to save all of your lives! Cleaning up the mess of the len'alas lath'din is not the duty of the Dalish! My Tamlen is gone! And I have lost him twice! All because of you shemlen! Zevran let me go!"

"I cannot mi amor, I cannot let you be subjected to the guilt you will feel if you kill any of our companions." Zevran answered, keeping a firm grip on the still-thrashing woman.

"I care nothing for any of them! Filth! Bringers of death and destruction, a curse on the land!" Eralen screamed. "Let me go seth'lin! Elvhen'alas would never understand! You are harellan! Savage elf! You know nothing! My lethallin! Ma emma lath! Ar tu na'din! Ar tu na'din! Ma halam shemlen!"

Eralen managed to break free of Zevran's grip, kneeing him in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him as she lunged for Alistair. She raised the dagger ready to kill, fire in her forest-green eyes, before Wynne cried out and sent a spell of sleep in her direction. It hit her and she fell, fast asleep in the enchantment as Sten swiftly caught her before she barrelled into Alistair or the ground.

"Maker..." Alistair breathed, staring at the unconscious woman in Sten's arms. "That was...what was that?"

"That was the wrath of the Dalish my friend," Zevran said standing up with a wince. "You picked your words very poorly I might add."

"You think so?" Morrigan said sarcastically. "Alistair is a bumbling fool at the best of times, this certainly 'twas not one of his finest moments. She was ready to kill him. And I for one, was not going to stop her taking out her grief."

"Oh thanks," Alistair muttered.

"She must have loved him very much..." Leliana murmured, stepping over to the corpse of the once-Dalish hunter. "It is so sad that it has had to end this way..."

"From what I know, Dalish tend to only have one partner in a lifetime." Zevran commented. "He...Tamlen...was her ma sa'lath...her one love. There were most likely expected to be bonded since childhood. That is apparently...their way."

"No wonder she took such offence," Morrigan quipped glaring at Alistair. "Fool."

"I didn't mean to...upset her I just..." Alistair stammered. "I wasn't sure what to say..."

"When in doubt, remain silent." Morrigan responded.

"We should bury Tamlen," Leliana piped up. "Um...Zevran, do you know...how Dalish bury their dead?"

"I know." Alistair cut in. "She told me...they bury them in the woods and plant a tree over their grave."

"I will dig this grave," Sten rumbled. "Elf, look after her. Templar, find a small tree."

Alistair nodded and went off in search of a sapling while Sten passed down Eralen to Zevran. She looked so small and dainty in Sten's arms, fragile like a flower, and her skin the ashen colour of death. She was light, and Zevran had no trouble taking her into her tent and setting her down comfortably on her bedroll, sitting beside her and waiting until the spell wore off, and she would wake.

Some time had passed before Zevran looked up from Eralen's tattooed face at the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was Morrigan.

"This should calm her, should she be frantic still when she wakes. Have her drink it in small doses." she said passing the Antivan a red bottle.

"Ah my dear Morrigan, showing you care after all," Zevran winked, placing the bottle beside him.

"I do not. I simply do not wish her to kill any of us." Morrigan sniffed indignantly. "As much as I wish to be rid of Alistair, 'tis true that...a guilt-ridden Warden would not suffice to lead us. Do not read more into this than what is there."

She left without another word, leaving Zevran to chuckle to himself. He felt the booming footsteps of Sten settle outside the tent.

"I have finished the grave. We will be ready to bury Tamlen once Eralen has woken," he said solemnly.

"I'll bring her the moment she is well enough," Zevran promised.

Satisfied, the Qunari moved on. While he waited for the Dalish to wake, he pondered on what he could say or do, to make her spirits lift, even a little. Alistair had been a fool in his words, Zevran was sure it cut her deeper still since he was a human. But Zevran was elvish. Perhaps there was something he could do for her the others could not. He remembered her words, viciously spewed at him in her fit of rage. She had called him a savage elf. Zevran was no Dalish, he was certain any words of comfort from him would only been seen as an insult from a...what was it she called him? Ah yes, Elvhen'alas. He had heard the term before, in the Dalish camp in Antiva. The children of that tribe had called him the same. Dirt elf. One who was city-born, ignorant of their ways. Though he knew his Warden would never say such a thing to him in her right mind, he knew of his status compared to hers. Whether she truly believed her to be beneath him or not was not the point. Zevran didn't speak the language of his kind, and had never cared to learn, but while travelling with Eralen he had picked up a few phrases and words. He remembered that one of their first conversations had been about his tattoo. Vallaslin she had called it, and pointed to her own markings. It was not the same of course, but Zevran thought that was one of the reasons she usually felt so at ease with him. For a Dalish elf fresh out of the forest and surrounded by humans, very beings she had despised for her entire life, who had stolen her people's homelands and enslaved them, it must have been refreshing to have an elf around the camp for a change. Perhaps he could help after all.

A rustling of the tent pulled Zevran from his musings, and he looked up to see Alistair hovering there.

"How is she?" he said quietly.

"Resting," Zevran replied. "Wynne's spell as not worn off yet, but it should soon. Perhaps you...should not be here when it does. Allow her some time."

Alistair nodded sagely. "Of course. I was just wondering...if you knew what she was saying...at all?"

Zevran took a deep breath. "I do not speak Elven my friend, I only caught tiny parts."

"But you're an elf."

"I am an Antivan," Zevran huffed. "An assassin raised in a whorehouse. Where would I have had the opportunity to learn Elvish?"

"Oh...right."

"She was undoubtedly insulting and threatening us all however. In between her crying for her love and wishing death upon you, there were many insults scattered in between. What her words meant I cannot tell you, but I am sure they would have been the worst that can be uttered in Elvish."

"I...thought so. I only caught the word shemlen. That's bad enough, I don't think I'd want to hear the rest. Well, I'll try to...apologise later, once she's passed the whole...wanting me dead thing." Alistair left the tent, leaving Zevran alone in the silence again.

It wasn't too long after that, when Eralen finally woke. She stirred beside him, heaving a groan and rolling onto her side.

"Zevran?"

Her heavily-lidded eyes opened slowly, peeking up at the Antivan deliriously.

"You awake mi amor, it is good to see." Zevran said, shifting in his position so he could lay her head in his lap.

He brushed out her long brown hair with his fingers, watching it splay over his legs as he ran his fingers through it. He cleared his throat.

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan." he murmured.

She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. "...Ma serannas...lethallin..." she replied.

"If you feel up to it, we have prepared Tamlen's body for burial, if you would like to set him to rest." Zevran went on quietly.

Slowly, she nodded. "Yes. I would like that. Tamlen should be guided to the Beyond, now that he is truly gone. I am no Hahren Paival, but I will perform a last rite for Tamlen, so Falon'din may come and take him to the Beyond, and he may be at peace."

"As you wish my dear Warden. We are all ready for you."

Zevran helped the grief-weary woman to her feet, and together they left the tent, joining their companions where they gathered by the open grave.

"I will sing, in honour of Tamlen," Leliana said.

As Leliana began to sing, Alistair and Sten lowered Tamlen into the grave, and began to fill it in. As they did this, Eralen recited the rite for the departed.

"Hahren na melana sahlin,
emma ir abelas.
Souver'inan isala hamin,
vhenan him dor'felas.
In uthenera na revas."

Once the grave was filed, Zevran stepped forth to plant the seedling Alistair had found. They stood there for a moment in respectful silence.

"Dareth shiral, lethallin." Eralen murmured, touching her fingers to her lips, then to her forehead.

"We should leave you alone a moment," Wynne said tactfully. "Take all the time you need to come back to us."

As the party began to move away, Eralen spoke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean...what I said."

"We did not understand most of it, 'tis alright." Morrigan said. "Do not dwell on past mistakes, we forgive you for your grief."

"Then I'm sorry for the things you did understand then," Eralen said. "I do not think of you as shemlen. You are all dear to me, you are all my lethallan now. I just want you to know that. I didn't mean anything I said."

"Of course," Leliana said warmly. "It is alright. You will recover, and we will be here for you as you have always been there for us. That is what friends are for no?"

The party then moved back to camp, with only Zevran remaining behind. He did not think it wise to leave Eralen completely alone, lest she hurt herself or fall into grief deep enough to want to kill one of them again. But Eralen merely stared down at the fresh grave, its weak little sapling springing from the dirt.

"When Tamlen and I were young, we used to explore the forest together," Eralen began in a soft voice.

Zevran could not tell if she was speaking to him or herself, or to Tamlen.

"We used to go where the Keeper said not to, we'd always take the rules and bend them to breaking point. We never broke them, but our troublesome ways caused many headaches for the clan, but it was so much fun to us, at the time. We would go hunting together, when we got older, always competing against one another for the biggest kill. It is lucky the clan never depended solely on us for food or they would have gone without, so wrapped up in our competitions as we were to remember our duty. Somehow, we retained our childish behaviours even into adulthood. I remember when I received my vallaslin when I became of age. I had thought long and hard of which Creator to honour in my markings, until I settled on Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. Tamlen was the only one who understood why, and the only one who didn't judge me for my decision."

"Was this decision bad?" Zevran murmured.

"Fen'Harel was a trickster. He could change his form and slip unnoticed through the realms of both the Creators and the Forgotten Ones, claiming to be one of their own. He convinced each side that the other had forged a weapon to end the war, and when they went to claim it, he sealed them in their kingdoms forever. He was a traitor, and many of our tribe learn to fear his trickery. I adopted the markings of the Wolf to honour him, because if I honoured and revered the greatest and slyest of the Old Gods, I would not fall to his trickery. His power would be bestowed upon me, and I would be able to walk through enemy and friendly lands unharmed, blending in and remaining unnoticed if I needed to. Tamlen understood my wishes, but the clan believed I was a strange child. They distanced themselves after that day. Tamlen was the only real friend I ever had...ma sa'lath..."

Zevran took two steps towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder to offer her some comfort. She leaned back into him, and sighed.

"I'm sorry. I called you terrible things Zev," she muttered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it."

"I know mi amor," Zevran said, squeezing her slightly. "You were angry and grief-stricken, I understand. In fact, I would prefer you to let it all out on me. Holding it in won't help, and if there need be a victim let it be me, I can shoulder your pain just as you have shouldered mine."

"You already did lethallin," Eralen said gently. "You stopped me from doing a terrible thing. I don't think Tamlen would like his death to bring more suffering. He told me in the Gauntlet, that some mistakes can never be undone, but it was time for me to let them go."

"He would want you to be happy, to move on and live your life, would he not?" Zevran asked.

Eralen sighed. "He would." she agreed. "We were never bonded...though it was always expected...our promise was undeclared but...I wish we'd never found that stupid cave. I wish we had grown up to respect the rules and to not go wandering off on our own when it was dangerous. I wish those shemlen never set foot in our forest."

She glanced at Zevran for a moment, before looking back down to the grave. "That's why I blamed everything on the others. This whole mess started with those humans. They stumbled too near our camp, babbling about caves and demons. We killed them, but Tamlen said the rune they carried was elven, and insisted we find the caves they mentioned. I tried to get him to come home, so we could inform the Keeper, but he convinced me it was fine and we went in search of the caves. We came across a mirror within the ruins...I told Tamlen to stay away from it...but he touched it...and I passed out. When I woke two days had passed and Tamlen was missing. I had been cured momentarily from the darkspawn Taint, and went in search of Tamlen...but we never found him."

Zevran tightened his grip. "This was not your fault mi amor," he said soothingly. "You did all you could, no one could have done better."

"It's been over a year Zev..." Eralen sniffled. "He's been like this...suffering...tormented...all this time...while I was spared...it's not fair."

"No. It's not. Nothing ever is." Zevran sighed.

"Everyone I love dies..." Eralen sniffed, her tears returned as she stood there, staring at the grave of her long-life love. "Mamae...papa...Tamlen...Zev I need you to end this. I'm not strong enough to do it, so you'll have to leave me."

"What? No." Zevran denied. "I will do no such thing. You need support right now, not abandonment. Do not worry for me mi amor, I promise you I will not die and leave you alone."

"Not ever?" Eralen sniffed, looking back at him.

"I will never leave you." Zevran promised softly, pressing his lips to hers more tenderly than he ever had before. "I am yours until the day we do die. And when that day comes, it will be many years from now, and I hope to follow you into whatever Beyond you go to."

"I'll hold you to that promise," Eralen said with a small smile.

"I hope you do mi amor," Zevran smiled.

It was then that Zevran realised, he would do anything, anything for the wild Dalish woman in his arms. And he also realised, that he didn't mind that. Not one bit.