Chapter 2

"North is always a good direction to travel. But so is south, east, west. We've been going north since we cut through the Vimmark Mountains. Where does this end? When we fall off the edge of the world?" Ronan gazed around the rustic wooden walls of the usual meeting place, an inn in the middle of nowhere. They had been there for a few days while they tracked the horse thieves. "Or did we come all this way north for this place?"

"Oh, now you care?" Vance asked while he watched with interest the inn's owner, a ravishing red haired woman named Ursula.

It was true. Ronan hadn't cared where they were going. He had only wanted to be as far away from home as possible. And, since that night, he wanted to be as far away from Kirkwall too. But that feeling of emptiness, it came creeping back into him more frequently now. Perhaps, he thought, I am too far from my clan now.

"Well?" Ronan prodded, running a hand through his hair impatiently.

"Starkhaven." Vance finally answered. Ursula beckoned to him from afar, a coy smile transforming her deep red lips. "But Ursula's always worth a few days of distraction." With an impish grin, Vance scampered up from his seat to meet with the woman.

"Starkhaven? I never heard of the place." Ronan said with a frown. He rubbed his back as Chug and Fritz joined him at the table, placing a jug of ale and a few cups onto the table roughly, causing some ale to spill over. Riding that horse had not been such a good idea, as he had aches where he never had before. But the coin had been good. Coin? What has happened to me? I never used to care about coin…

"Starkhaven is a grand city, ruled by a prince. Plenty of rich people there, meaning better jobs for us." Fritz explained, pouring the cups full of ale. He pushed one in front of Ronan. Ronan never really liked the taste of human ale, but he took the cup anyway.

"There are rich people in every city." Ronan said.

"True, but Starkhaven is at least a little more civilized than Kirkwall, and even Denerim." Fritz replied. He was an average sized man with long blonde hair, two large braids framing his face, and sea green eyes that never ceased to emanate kindness, even when he was pissed off. He was also from Ferelden, unlike the others who were all Marchers from Kirkwall. Except for Anwen. Ronan didn't know where she came from.

"Let's get some music going in here." Chug bellowed loudly after taking a large gulp of ale. Some of the liquid ran down his face, making his beard glisten in the candle light. He still wore his double horned helmet. "This place feels like a chantry."

There were about a dozen or more other patrons in the inn. It was a popular rest stop in the long distance between the mountains and the Minanter River. As chance would have it, there was a bard nearby and he started playing his instrument. Ronan groaned. He didn't really like the loud music of the shems. He put the awful tasting ale to his mouth and drank, and drank, and drank.

Fritz began to sing. It was more like shouting though and Ronan winced in pain at the screechiness of the man's voice. "Sip once, sip twice, for the wench in your life!" Fritz and Chug both took big gulps of the ale, ogling the serving girls, who giggled at the men. "Take a big gulp, let the ale flow, don't you dare spit on your foe! The ale is too good for that, drink it all till you get fat!" Chug patted his belly at these words and burped loud and long. Ronan shook his head in disgust.

A lithe serving girl came to the table to refill their jug. Her long brown hair was tied back with ribbons, and for a moment, Ronan felt his heart leap out of his chest. The woman looked so much like her… you are nothing. He grabbed the jug and refilled his cup to the brim. He would not think of those words anymore, but words cut deeper than blades, and the wound it had inflicted was stubbornly refusing to heal.

"Drink for the wanderer, drink for the poor, drink for the scholar, drink for the bore! Hail to the men no longer here, we've got their women now, no fear!" Fritz continued to screech. He stood up and held his cup out to the room. "A salute to all drinking and fighting men; this one right here for the Hero of Ferelden!"

Ronan pushed his chair backward and with his cup in his hands, slipped out of the now boisterous inn. Even all the way here in the middle of nowhere he couldn't escape his brother's admirers.

…

The night air was warm. The sky was filled with bright, twinkling stars, and a sliver of a moon. Ronan leaned against the wall of the inn. He finished what was left in his cup and threw the thing onto the rough, dry ground, chuckling as it shattered into little pieces. He could feel his wits become addled. He shouldn't have drunk that much. Who knew what lurked in those woods?

With a smile, he unsheathed his sword and walked crookedly into those woods. There was nothing he liked more than a good challenge. However, there were no beasts to be found and he could hear nothing but the sound of insects, until he found himself a little further in. There was a clearing ahead and voices rang through to his ears. He paused to listen.

"There once was a barbarian princess named Celestine. She was very beautiful and when it came time for her to be married, she had no lack of suitors. Of course, she wasn't as beautiful as you." Ronan snorted. It was Ty, seated next to Anwen. He was trying to impress her.

"At this point in time, there were no stars, just a black fathom in the sky. The stars had been eaten up by a dragon." Ty pointed to the sky. To Ronan's surprise, Anwen seemed to actually be listening intently to Ty's ridiculous story. "Celestine thought it very sad that the night sky should be so empty. So she had all her suitors bring her diamonds. Then she tossed them into the sky and that is where stars come from. When she died, she became the moon."

Ronan couldn't hold it in any longer, he burst out laughing and stumbled into the clearing. Ty and Anwen were surprised to see him. "What a ridiculous story."

Ty frowned. "Nobody asked your opinion."

"That is not where stars came from." Ronan said. He could feel his words coming out slurred. "Everyone knows that Elgar'nan's fury caused the stars to exist."

"A Dalish legend?" Ty snorted and crossed his arms. "Tell us then. Let us see how ridiculous your story is."

"It is not my story, it is Dalish truth." Ronan gripped onto a tree to keep his balance. "When Elgar'nan's father the sun burned his mother the land and all the creatures she created for him, he vowed vengeance on his father. Elgar'nan fought his father for an eternity. Rightfully so, Elgar'nan finally won, throwing his father the sun from the sky and burying him underground, turning the world into nothing but shadows. The stars, they are just reminders of the battle between Elgar'nan and the sun. They are the sun's lifeblood. And that is why we have stars, or so the hahren would let us believe."

"And you don't believe it so?" Ty asked.

Ronan never questioned the stories told him by the hahren, but he always wondered what happened to the daylight if the sun was buried in an abyss by Elgar'nan. Did Elgar'nan let the sun come out for half the day? Is that why they had day and night too? Ronan slunk under a tree. Obviously, Elgar'nan let his father out every day, for the sun appeared at dawn and disappeared at dusk every single day of his life. What stupid questions to wonder at. He probably should have listened more closely to the hahren as a child. His lids felt very heavy now. He closed them, feeling about to fall asleep any second. But he had to have the last word.

"It's better than your explanation."