Disclaimer: I do NOT own Dragon Age or anything related to it.
"I made an oath to myself:
as long as I live
as long as my soul remains in this body
I won't deviate from the right way
but later I looked to my left and then to my right
and I saw our beloved everywhere
how could I make a wrong turn?"
— Rumi (The Rubais of Rumi: Insane with Love)
Chapter 1:Oaths
Hear me, sons and daughters of the People
I am Sister of the Moon, Mother of Hares,
Lady of the Hunt: Andruil.
Remember the Ways of the Hunter
And I shall be with you.
Those exact words rang through Lara's head everyday. It was her duty as an Elvhen hunter to always remember these words and the meaning behind them. If any hunter ever forgot these sacred words, then they did not deserve to call themselves Dalish, for if it was not for Andruil, there would be no hunters to do the hunting or animals to be pursued by the hunter. The Elvhenan owed their beloved goddess of the hunt much, and anyone who failed to proerly honor Her, was not only showing a complete lack of both love and respect for Andruil, but also showing themselves as being no better than the disgusting shemlen and their worthless, flat-eared pets.
It had been several years ago, but knelt down in front of a statue of Andruil now, Lara could easily remember the day she'd first become a true hunter, having brought back the pelt of a large bear who she'd killed all by herself. The entire clan had gathered around the former hunter apprentice, congratulating her on her accomplishment before quieting down and moving aside so Lara could slowly approach the keeper, who stood in silence outside of his aravel with his face maintaining it's usual stoical mask as Lara carefully placed the pelt at his feet and knelt down before him with her head bowed low as a sign of deep respect for the man who was her keeper as well as the first of the Elvhenan to rediscover the immortality of their ancestors.
For the longest time, Zathrian remained silent, his eyes locked on both the pelt and the elven huntress kneeling before him. He cleared his throat eventually, and Lara took that as a sign that she could look up, but still hesitated to fully raise her head and allow her light blue eyes to meet Zathrian's dark, unreadable ones. She could herself querying with tremulousness under his gaze as he gave a curt nod of his head then gestured for her to follow him into the aravel. Lara followed him inside, lowering her eyes and biting her lip as she watched the keeper retrieving a tome from one of his chest and opening it to the first page.
After about half-a-second, he looked up at her, face still an emotionless mask, and beckoned her closer with another brief nod. She nodded back, already knowing what was in the tome by the time she came to a stop in front of him. Wordlessly, the tome was placed into the huntress's hands, showing her all of the designs that she would have to choose from for her vallaslin. Not even two seconds later, she looked up to give him a nod and pointed at the design that would soon grace her brow; Ghilan'nain.
It was obvious by the brief widening of his eyes that Zathrian was slightly surprised by this rather unexpected decision of hers. Most Elvhen hunters usually wore the design of Andruil, the craftsmen typically had June, halla-keepers preferred Ghilan'nain, and most importantly, the keepers, including Zathrian himself, wore either Mythal or Elgar'nan. That was just the way that a lot of the Elvhenan chose their vallaslin. There was certainly no law regarding making a decision such as this one; it was just a normal pattern of how things went in most Dalish clans that very few acted differently from.
The suprise in Zathrian's eyes vanished as quickly as it had originally appeared and he nodded slowly, gesturing for her to have a seat so they could begin the sacred, silent ritual of adulthood. Once the ritual was finally complete , Zathrian nodded and for the first time in the last few hours of silence, he smiled widely, making him look much younger. He'd then stated that it was done; Lara Tarsis was no longer a mere da'len and hunter apprentice; she was now a grown woman by Dalish standards and a true Elvhen huntress in the eyes of her people.
Recalling everything now, Lara couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about the gathering tonight. The clan was already packing up their belongings while Elora prepared the halla to move on so they could meet with the other Dalish clans today at sunset. Lara could not stop thinking about the archery competition in which she would be the one to represent their clan. She was very confident in herself, of course, but at the same time she was also more than slightly worried about failing to do her clan proud. Even if she was one of the finest hunters the Elvhenan had to offer, it was only natural for any person to feel nervous when they felt that more than a little pressure had been put on them.
That was why she'd come to kneel down before the statue of Andruil, hoping that offering some sort of small prayer to her people's hunter godness might help to calm some of her nerves until it was finally time for the gathering. It seemed to help a little bit, but not that much as these thoughts still continued to plague her mind, so she shook her head vehemently to rid herself of such negative thoughts and sighed before slowly standing up and walking back towards her aravel to get ready for tonight.
We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan and never again shall we submit.
As a keeper, it was Magnus's duty more than any other elf's to never forget the meaning behind those exact words, especially the part with the words 'keepers of the lost lore' included in it. He was not a ruler, seeing as the Dalish had no rulers to begin with; they followed the commands of their wise and noble keepers out of respect and love for both their people as well as what little they knew about their lost lore at the moment thanks to the shemlen and their flat-eared pets ruining everything.
Magnus sighed at the thought of the Elvhenan's almost eternal conflict with both humans and city elves alike for so many centuries. He'd never enjoyed it whenever one of his clan members frightened or threatened a shem, and even more so despised it when he could not avoid a fight by simply moving on to a different campsite or settling for a temporary truce with their neighbors for at least one week of peace without constantly being at each other's throats.
It was sad that very few felt the same way as he did about the bad blood between humans and elves. He remembered back when he was still a mere len who loved hearing stories about their people's history, which was especially important for him since he was First to the old keeper before him and thus, had a duty to remember as much of the Elvhenan's language and history as possible.
He'd always taken that duty seriously, showing love and kindness to everyone, be they a shem or an elf. There was one day when Ilana, one of the female hunters who would be representing their clan in the archery competition tonight, had excitedly come back with a few other hunters to tell or show him something, and that something horrified him beyond words. Ilana presented to him her dagger which was covered in the blood of a dead human man whose heart she had torn out herself while her two male fellow hunters bragged about how the unfortunate shem had begged desperately in tears for mercy before and while they killed, claiming that he had a wife and son waiting for him back in his village, but it did nothing to touch any of their hearts in the slightest.
How could they have been so cruel and sadistic, he had shouted lividly at them. The man claimed to have a family and had done nothing wrong. He was not to blame for whatever deeds his ancestors might have or might not have committed against the Elvhenan. Did they not understand that they had wrongfully taken the life of an innocent man without showing even a hint of remorse? Magnus felt pity for the poor man and even prayed that the shemlen Maker god would grant him atisha and hoped the Creators would forgive Ilana and the other two hunters for the horrid act they had committed.
Even now, years later, it still haunted Magnus to think about the death of an innocent man who just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time and received a fate he did not deserve. Would all of this pointless bloodshed ever end? He wasn't so sure if he really even wanted an answer to that dreadful question, so he just closed his eyes tightly, let out another sigh, and tried to meditate for a few minutes in atisha before they would start moving on for the gathering tonight.
Elven Translations:
Andruil - Goddess of hunt
June - God of crafts
Ghilan'nain - Mother of the halla
Mythal - (Literally: The great protector) Chief elven goddess; Wife of Elgar'nan; Goddess of love, protection, and motherhood.
Elgar'nan - (Literally: Spirit of vengeance) Chief elven god; Husband of Mythal; God of vengeance and fatherhood.
Elvhen - (Literally: Our people) Elven name for their own race.
Elvhenan (Literally: Place of our people/Our hearts) Original name for the elven civilization.
Shems/Shemlen (Literally: Quick children) Humans
Vallaslin - (Literally: Blood writing) The art of tattooing adopted by the Dalish to display their worship of the traditional elven pantheon. It also signifies each elf's coming into the status of adulthood among their clan.
Da'len - Little child; to describe someone young, innocent, or dear.
Len - Child/Children
Aravel - A wagon or tent used by the Dalish; humans call them "landships"
Atisha - Peace, peaceful
Next up: Chapter 2:Dar'ben'din'dar (To be or not to be)
