May My Right Hand Forget Its Skill
Velenna was angry, as usual. In her view, the Warden Commander was wasting time dealing with the petty problems of these shems while Seranni was still missing. She really didn't think the cow the peasants were bickering about was worth my time. I couldn't fault her for her loyalty, but she really did need to expand her horizons a bit.
I wasn't bored by the case. Cows are important when you are poor. Also, the novelty of an elf deciding human affairs still hadn't worn off. When the two parties stopped arguing I would make a decision. In the great scheme of things it really didn't matter what I decided, it just mattered that I was consistent in what I ruled. Anders began to tap out a complex beat with his foot. I reached my decision and banged my dagger's pommel against the table. What I needed, and more importantly what Velenna needed, was a mereth.
"My decision is this. Wat will set the price for the cow. Corrin will pay the price, or if he does not want the cow, then Wat will buy her from him for the set price."
Neither of the peasants looked especially pleased, which told me I had decided the case reasonably well. I went to find Groundskeeper Sammel. After I spoke with him, I would need to visit Amaranthine. Denerim would have exactly what I wanted, but Amaranthine should have something close enough.
I returned from the small city I ruled with a reasonably large parcel and several smaller ones. Not only was there a shop that sold what I wanted but there were two merchants whose business encompassed those sorts of goods.
The Vigil was large enough that it took little effort to find a small unused wing in good repair. I found a room that was perfect, had it cleaned and furnished properly and then used it to practise.
When I regained enough proficiency to where my mother would not be ashamed of me, I set the date. I said nothing of it to Velenna but I did tell the other castle elves to set the day aside. I could see the excitement in their eyes whenever I passed them for the next few days. Even in Denerim we only had such an event once or twice a year. I didn't think there had ever been one here.
When the day came, about noon, I found Velenna. In her room, writing.
"Follow me."
"What? I'm busy."
"Not for this, you're not. Follow me."
"What's this about?"
"All will be made clear. Follow."
Grumbling she rose and followed me to the rooms I had set aside. At the entry to the hall were two of my soldiers set to guard duty.
I told the senior one "Remember, no one, king, queen, bann or teyrn is to come in and disturb us until we leave. The only reason to interrupt us is if the darkspawn attack. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ser."
"Is everyone else here?"
"Yes, ser."
Velenna looked baffled. Good. She was beginning to have her curiosity pricked.
We walked down the hall to the farthest room. No sound should carry past the heavy doors at the entry. The guards would hear nothing and so I would not be foresworn.
We entered to a small crowd of fourteen elves of varying ages standing around a table laid on with some of the keep's best food.
They all turned to see the two Grey Wardens. I was amused to see that everyone had the same reaction to Velenna's presence. We all may have been elves, but she was unique despite that.
"You all know I'm a Gray Warden and that I'm Arl here. Which is extremely odd, but there you are. What you may not know is that before I became a Gray Warden I was trained to be talagan nothlin as is the custom in my family. No questions or comments until I've done."
With a flourish, I pulled the cover off of the harp and began to play "Lowlands." Several of the older elves joined in after a bit. I moved on to "The Farmer's Lament", always a popular choice. All but Velenna joined in on that one. She was seething a bit, but the music was decent and the tune infectious so she took up an angry little tapping with her foot. After four more popular tunes I moved to "Saer Revio". Her eyes widened. Of all my audience, she was the only one who understood even half the words.
I decided to alternate recent songs and old songs. That way the children wouldn't be overly bored by songs they didn't know and couldn't understand. When we broke for dinner, Velenna came up for questions. My fingers were sore from the plucking and my throat was even more raw. I had been practising but this was doing a forced march after several weeks of evening ambles. I put one finger up, croaked "After the last set" and gulped a mixture of vinegar and honey.
When everyone had eaten their fill, I moved into a restful instrumental set, playing for an hour or so. Feeling a bit less raw, I finished off with the traditional toloth gwethil, eight songs so old they likely dated to Arlathan or before. I was pleased to see that Black Dallian actually knew most of them and joined in.
Velenna looked stunned. She had obviously never heard any of these songs before. When I finished the last chord and did the sitting bow custom required, there was a brief moment of silence. Then we all stood, stretched and walked about a bit. Two of the children had to be woken. I happily guzzled more of the vinegar and honey. Velenna sat, deep in thought, hugging her arms tightly about herself.
The rest of the group thanked me. It was nice to be, for a moment, not an Arl or a Gray Warden, but an equal, a performer for an audience. It was a pleasure I had long denied myself. I couldn't sing the old songs for my companions, unless it were for Zevran alone. When I did try it for Zev, I rarely got past a verse or two before we moved onto other things.
The Dalish never shut up long enough for me to play. With them it was always "Listen to this sad story of ultimate injustice and then listen to this other sad story" never "Do you know any songs?" I couldn't play the really old ones for them, but some of the recent ones weren't barred. But they never asked or listened.
I put ointment on my fingers and wrapped them with small clean bandages. When I got back to my room I was going to have a nice long gargle with salt water. There would be spitting as well. I was mulling over asking Anders for a finger healing spell when Velenna cleared her throat.
She looked at me. She had been weeping for a while judging by the redness in her eyes.
"You look puffy" I told her.
"Why?" she replied.
"Because you've been crying is my guess." I answered.
"No. Why did you play those songs for me and why don't I know them? There isn't a Dalish alive that wouldn't want to sing them."
"I played them for you because I could. If you were not an exile, I never would have."
"What do you mean? Why wouldn't you?"
"The Dalish are descended from the nobility of the Dales?"
"Of course. We have preserved the old ways where others have forgotten them."
"Our fathers swore to your fathers oaths of service in return for which your fathers swore oaths of protection. But you abandoned us when the Dales fell and fled."
"That's not the way.."
"Your hahren put it? Think it through."
"Oh."
"Most of us have forgotten the history. Those that remember aren't bitter about it. I was made to swear a stupid oath when I was taught and I can not break it. I daresay it would take little effort on your peoples' part to redeem the old pledge."
"What oath?"
"Oh the usual nonsense about not playing for humans or oathbreaking elves. I also have to require any pupils I teach to swear the same silly oath. We can not sing the old songs for the Dalish until they redeem themselves."
"What!"
"I'm being somewhat picky, but I decided that since you're an exile and a Grey Warden, the oath doesn't apply to you."
Velenna obviously didn't want to dwell upon her non-Dalish status and so changed the subject, "The elves from the cities we encounter never speak of these things."
"A lot of them do not know. Only reason I know it is music is my family's trade. We've been talagans since before the Dales."
"I thought your parents were servants."
"They were also soldiers for a while, but mostly servants as well. Most elves work as labourers or servants. We all know trades though. The guild rules mean that most of us can not practise them, but we do know them. Go to any alienage and you'll find blacksmiths that work on the docks, tailors that wait tables, candlers that cook and so on."
"So why do you city elves all seem so ignorant?"
"We are trained from birth never to volunteer information to strangers. That's why we seem so meek. And since when do the Dalish ever ask anyone about anything?"
"Oh."
"We stopped living in Arlathan. We were slaves for a long time. We were evicted from the Dales. But we never stopped singing."
Epilogue
Shianni opened her door to find a strange elf standing before her. The girl was young, nervous and had a face covered with an intricate and beautiful gold tattoo.
"May I help you?"
"Are you Shianni Tabris, hahren of the Alienage and talagan nothlin?"
Shianni blinked. The first part of the question was expected, but the second, coming from a Dalish, was startling.
"Yes, I'm Shianni. Who are you, how may I help you and most importantly how did you know I'm a talagan?"
"I am Zathria, daughter of Gheyna of the Dalish. I have come to redeem my ancestors' pledge to yours."
"Oh. Oh! Come in. Do you like cheese soup?"
The door closed behind them.