A/N: I'm sorry my friends, but I'm losing interest now. You see, while I was outlining the third chapter I decided to take a break and post the first two to deviantart. Not an hour later I received a message that someone had added it to his collection; a collection labeled "Retarded Bullshit." I was mortified. I immediately deleted it so that no one browsing that collection would find one of MY works. That little escapade left me extremely disheartened and unwilling to write. Ergo, this may be the last post for some time, until I can find inspiration and encouragement again. On a happier note, anyone who wants to see a photo of Arella's tattoo should pm me with an email to send it to. Yes, that's my belly in the photo. No, it's not a real tattoo. I drew it in gel ink. Here are the reviews to reply to this time.

Melisimo – uh, I think you have the wrong fic.

Daerana – let's put it to a vote. All in favor of "Z" as Zevran's nickname and all in favor of changing it to the standard "Zev" need to tell me in a review.

TheWastelander – I already gave you your tip, but please keep reviewing.

Shousie – Dwarf toss you say? I hadn't thought of that. We'll see if I can work it in.

NuitNuit – That's a recurring nightmare with me. The marionettes keep trying to eat me. *shudder*

Hunter.48 – Glad you liked the idea. I really haven't seen it done yet with Zev. I have with Alistair, but not Zevran.

Avaraen – That's what I was thinking when I started writing this. I used to skip over those parts whenever I'd run across them in a story.

Chapter Three: Like Home, but Not Really

Related quote for the chapter: "Home is not a place. It is people who care."

– George Moore.

Arella heard them before she saw them. Rapid footfalls like a halla's racing heart caring little for what they landed on or how much noise they made. 'Three humans running through a forest; odd.' They passed under the tree branch on which she was perched. Tamlen nodded to her from the ground, indicating that he would intercept them. She leapt down, silently cursing his hatred of humans. By the time she made it to her partner's side, he had already confronted the cowering men and frightened them further with a death threat.

"Don't kill them. That will only bring more trouble," she knew logic would have more effect on him than compassion.

"Why? So they can bring back more shems?"

"Hey now, we don't mean any trouble." She knew that already. They were running away from something, not toward the Dalish camp. "...We have treasure to prove it." She missed what they said in between.

"Let me see that." She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm. They didn't know how lucky they were to have stumbled on Tamlen's one weakness: history. Despite his fascination with the rune and the possible threat of a demon, he still wanted to kill them. "What do you think Lethallin?"

"I think you've scared them enough."

"How can you say that? They might be bandits!"

"You saw for yourself. They were running as though Elgar'nan himself were at their heels," She stepped between Tamlen's raised bow and the villagers, "No, I will not be responsible for the deaths of terrified innocents."

Tamlen hung his head, bow still drawn. She thought he had relented, but then she watched with horror as his skin turned grey, his nails turned to talons, and when he raised his head back up, his eyes had turned an evil shade of yellow. He grinned revealing brown jaggedly pointed teeth, darkspawn teeth. "Then you die with them," he giggled madly as he released the arrow…

Arella woke up, biting back a gasp at the last second, but remained curled on her side. She was safe and warm. The tent smelled like cinnamon. The overall effect reminded her of the snickerdoodles (as her adoptive mother, Ashalle, called them since neither could pronounce their Antivan name) she had when her clan visited Antivia. It had an instant calming effect.

"Good morning, Angel," Zevran looked as though had been awake for a while just waiting for the chance to say that.

She performed a languid stretch, mostly to shake off the lingering fear from her dream. The movement reminded him of a cat. "Morning, Z," she paused a moment, looking as though she just realized something. "Did I sleep in my armor again?"

"Yes, as did I, but I don't think yours really counts as armor anymore," he replied. The studded leather set was missing most of its rivets and also bore tears along several joints including the shoulders, elbows, and knees.

She flopped back down on the bedroll. "Well crap," she rolled over to face him before continuing, "You know what I miss? Dalish leather. Much more comfortable than this Ferelden stuff and it doesn't smell as bad as Antivan. No offense."

"None taken. I am well aware Antivan leather smells like rotting flesh." When he said that he seemed a little wistful to Arella, but before she could comment he continued, "It's still better than the wet dog smell that seems to permeate your Ferelden air."

What she said next surprised him. "Tell me about it. Believe it or not, I'm not actually a big fan of dogs. I much prefer wolves. They're cleaner, stealthier, and frighten enemies more easily, but battle wolves are a lot harder to control than war dogs. That's why no one really breeds them anymore." She struggled to get up without putting any weight on her ankle. "Give me a hand will you?" He began clapping. She rolled her eyes. "Smartass. Now help me get up."

"As you command, my Angel." He pulled her to her feet and put an arm around he waist to keep her steady as he led her out to the fire pit. What he saw at the pit made him uneasy, but luckily he didn't have to say anything because Arella did it for him.

"Alistair, I thought we all agreed that Lels and I would do the cooking from now on."

He stopped just short of putting a whole side of lamb in the pot, bone and all. "But you're hurt! I just thought I'd help by taking your turn for you." He sounded like a kicked puppy towards the end, but Arella knew better than to fall for that.

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"I just…"

"Alistair, no means no. That's final. Now you go gather any damaged armor we have and let someone else take over the meal."

It was about that time Wynne walked over and said, "You'd best do as she says, Alistair. I'll take care of breakfast." Alistair walked away grumbling something about menial tasks and never getting to fight either. After he was out of earshot, Wynne turned to Arella and asked, "How is your head today?"

"Much better thank you." Arella and Zevran settled next to one another in front of the fire as Leliana joined them.

Wynne went about gleaning meat from the lamb ribs as she spoke, "Just make sure to tell anyone if you start feeling dizzy or nauseous. Is sheep bacon alright with everyone for breakfast?"

Sten had joined them by this point. "Pasherra, more mutton? We have eaten it everyday since we saw those bandits kill that farmer and his livestock."

Arella fixed him with a tired glare. She was not known for having the best temper and had become sick of his complaining over every single choice she made. In the coldest tone she could muster, she said, "This was the only one that wasn't poisoned. To leave any part of an animal to simply rot goes against my beliefs and yours as well if I'm not mistaken."

He looked ashamed, but only for a moment. "At least I do not jeopardize our mission by stopping to aid every pitiful creature that catches my attention."

"What do you expect me to do, fight my way through an entire horde of darkspawn and defeat the archdemon with only six warriors? Nothing short of an army stands a chance. With every person I help, it adds at least one more soldier to our cause. We need their support," she finished with a growl.

Leliana saw what was happening and decided to intervene before they attacked each other again. "So where are we going now? We've already recruited the dwarves and the mages."

Glad for the neutral topic, Arella answered honestly, "I was thinking about that yesterday. It's about the time that Valendrian's clan should be back in the Brecelian Forest. He's a legend among the Dalish and the only hahren whose clan stays in one place for any length of time."

There was a murmur of ascension from the fighters present. Even Sten agreed. "Then our course is laid before us. We go to this forest and find the Dalish," Zevran commented brightly.

Two hours later found Arella (newly equipped with a bow), Drake, Zevran, and Leliana heading west along the Imperial Highway. It was, thankfully, an uneventful trip, but the quiet invited Leliana to ask questions. "Why is this Valerian such a legend? I am a bard and have heard many tales, so why have I not heard of him?"

"First, it's Valendrian. Valerian is a plant. Second, I said, 'He is a legend among the Dalish.' I doubt any human is allowed to know about him, but back to your original question. He's a legend because he's over 500 years old. Most believe him a hero who has rediscovered our ancestors' immortality…" she trailed off with a dark look in her eye.

Zevran recognized it as a look of deep mistrust. "I take it you do not agree."

"He has been asked many times by many clans how to restore our people's longevity, but he refuses to answer. What kind of Dalish denies access to knowledge that was ours to begin with? No one. Which leads me to believe that he gets his immortality from magic, possible even from dark arts."

Not sure what to say to that, both Zevran and Leliana let the subject drop, leaving the rest of the journey to be travelled in silence.

Miah: Yeah, I don't feel like finishing this right now. Arella's tattoo will come into play next chapter when she switches into Dalish armor, (Gotta love how even though it's one of the best light armors, it doesn't cover much) but you can still message me to get a sneak preview so to speak.