Chapter 7

"We tell the children that the elvhen are strong, that we are a proud people, but they hear of these city elves who choose to toil under the humans' heavy hand. How do we teach them pride when they know there are others who would allow themselves to be trampled into the dust? So we tell them that these city elves are to be pitied, that they have given up on their people, given up their heritage. We tell them that some people are so used to being controlled that, when freed, they know not what to do with themselves. They are weak and afraid—afraid of the unfamiliar, afraid of our life of wandering. Above all, they are afraid even to hope that one day we may have a home of our own."

—as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish

Líadan

When the two Dalish elves walked into the Highever Alienage, they drew stares immediately. While Líadan had known the trip wouldn't be the most comfortable, she hadn't quite realized how very awkward it would feel. Wynne's presence may have mitigated the impact of two Dalish elves visiting an alienage, but she had been asleep when they stopped at the keep, and they had not had the heart to wake her.

Beside Líadan, Lanaya studied the alienage's buildings, buildings that were in better repair than in what had been Denerim's alienage before the walls had come down. Then Lanaya caught sight of the vhenadahl and headed straight for it. On reaching it, her fingers gently touched the painted bark.

"That's the vhenadahl," Líadan said.

"I do remember a giant tree," said Lanaya.

Out of the corner of her eye, Líadan noticed the city elves stepping closer and regarding Lanaya almost reverently. She wondered why, because the last time she'd been in an alienage, they'd looked at her warily. Then again, she wasn't a Keeper, had still called the city elves flat-ears, and hadn't yet dropped the habit of referring to humans as shems. The Líadan from two years ago seemed like an entirely different person. That Líadan would never have considered a human as a partner, and never would have found herself in the situation she was now in, carrying his—right, time to think about something else. That subject made her heart beat far too erratically to be healthy.

"Do you remember anything else?" she quietly asked Lanaya, keenly aware of the approaching residents. Their conversation wouldn't be private for much longer, if it was even private at all. "Because I'm not sure where to start, or who would be in charge. In Denerim, things are different. It's the Elven Quarter, not an alienage, and they have a bann, Shianni. Here, I'm not sure. Fergus hasn't implemented the changes yet. Apparently, a little dragon attack and a pitched battle with templars got in the way."

"I believe there is someone in charge. I think they use an Elvish term, but I cannot recall what it was."

"Oh, I remember," said Líadan. "They have a hahren. There was one in Denerim, when we stopped Loghain's slavers during the Blight. Can't remember his name, though. And it wouldn't matter here since it's a different alienage. Perhaps we should have asked for a guide."

"Excuse me," one of the elves who had gotten close enough said to Lanaya. "Are you a Keeper?"

"I am," said Lanaya, withdrawing her hand from the vhenadahl. "Andaran atish'an. I am Lanaya, Keeper of the Ra'asiel clan. Why do you ask?"

Líadan realized that Lanaya was far nicer to city elves than Velanna. Lanaya's tone was patient and kind, whereas Velanna's would've been harsh and more than faintly accusatory.

"Most of us have never meet a Dalish Keeper before, only heard of them. What brings you to our alienage?"

"We wish to speak with your hahren, if that is possible," said Lanaya.

"What need do the Dalish have of our hahren?" asked another.

Líadan, who had not felt claustrophobic in the alienage before, began to feel the wooden buildings pressing in on them. The walls seemed to close in and grow higher the longer they stood there in the middle of the crowd of city elves. While some had remained almost reverent of Lanaya, others had grown wary, much as the Denerim alienage had been during the Blight. She had assumed Fergus had good relations with Highever's alienage, but without Malcolm there, they would only see two Dalish elves who deigned to visit the flat-ears. Despite all their advances, the type of Dalish Velanna had been was still the image city-dwelling elves commonly carried of their Dalish cousins. Líadan had assumed they would know who she was and there would not be a problem. The humans were by and large not bothered by her presence, aided by the fact that she'd helped in the Blight. The city elves in Denerim also were not hostile. Usually, they were even friendly. Then again, she'd helped remove slavers from their alienage, so there was some gratitude involved, as well.

"Why do you seem hostile?" asked Lanaya. "Have you or yours been wronged by the Dalish in some way?"

The woman scowled. "My friend and I were once castigated by one of you Dalish in Amaranthine. Out of nowhere! We had just mentioned noticing two Dalish elves with the Grey Wardens, and she took such offense. We even tried to apologize, but that offended her even more. You think you're better than we are, and you don't hesitate to show it."

Creators. Velanna. Líadan remembered the scene quite well. She looked over at the woman who had been speaking with Lanaya. "Do you not remember the other Dalish elf pulling the first one away and yelling at her for yelling at you?"

"I had forgotten. The anger of the first Dalish was so strong, and the memory of her is so clear," said the woman. "How did you know?"

"Because I was the one who yelled at Velanna after she yelled at you. Now may we please speak with your hahren?"

"That is Líadan, the Grey Warden," a man told the woman who'd objected. "Remember? She's the one who keeps company with Prince Malcolm."

It took all of Líadan's will not to cover her face with her hands. Creators take her, this was worse than when she'd returned to the Mahariel.

The woman looked over Líadan with a critical eye. "You live with humans. Does that not make you a flat-ear and not a high and mighty Dalish?"

"I am Dalish," said Líadan, meeting the other woman's eyes. "And I am a Grey Warden."

"But you left the Dalish, and you never joined the elves in the city. Have you thrown away being elven? I've heard what's said in Denerim about you and the prince. How you are his—"

Líadan couldn't believe it. City elves were judging her more for her choice than the Dalish ever had. She would not stand for it. There was treating others politely, and there was allowing yourself to be trampled. "If you say what I think you're going to say—"

"Companion?" said an older, gray haired woman who walked out of a nearby tenement. "Perhaps bondmate? I believe that is the term the Dalish use." She looked over at the woman whom Líadan had been about to put in her place. "Am I right, Elatha?"

The woman, Elatha, bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Of course, hahren."

Líadan wasn't convinced, and her temper was fraying in ways it hadn't since when she'd almost constantly argued Velanna. "We're done here," she said to Lanaya, and then turned to leave.

Lanaya snagged her wrist as she spun, pulling her to a sudden halt. "We came here for your son. He is more important than injured pride."

She forced down sharp indignation. She was not Velanna. "I can find someone to help care for him elsewhere." Líadan did her best to ignore how even more attentive the crowd had become on hearing Lanaya's words. They would assume things, assume the wrong things, and the air of acrimony clinging to them would turn even more aggressive.

"Are you talking about the boy Prince Malcolm returned from Drake's Fall with? I heard it was the Witch of the Wilds who bore his son," someone said.

"I promised Morrigan that I would care for him as my own," said Líadan, giving the other elf a look asking for him to challenge her choice. "I gave her my word—as a Dalish." When he said nothing, Líadan looked toward Elatha. "Would you like to judge that as well? Or have you run dry of judgement for the day?"

"This is not going as planned," said Lanaya.

"I suspect not," said the woman the others had called hahren. "My name is Sarethia. I am the hahren of this alienage. I heard from inside that you are a Keeper. I take it you are from the clan camped near the castle?"

"Abelas, I am sorry for the turmoil we have caused. I am Lanaya, Keeper of the Ra'asiel clan. We wished to ask for your help and thus far have encountered... difficulty. I did not know what kind of greeting we would receive from our city-dwelling brethren, but I did not expect this—"

"Judgement?" asked Líadan. "Hostility? Acrimony? Resentment? Things with which the Dalish are usually associated?"

"You are unfamiliar with requesting help, I see," Sarethia said to her.

It took every ounce of will Líadan possessed to keep her arms at her sides and relaxed; she would not cross them and appear defensive, nor would she make her hands into fists and appear aggressive. "I do not wish to request help from a people who feel such aversion toward people like me." In fact, she did not wish to be here at all. She was ignoring every instinct she had to flee, both from this alienage and from the situation at large.

"You mean elves who would rather be human?" asked someone Líadan could not see. "Traitors?"

That was it. She would not stand for these strangers to call her something even her birth clan did not. Líadan went to step forward to look for whoever had said such a thing, but Lanaya, who had not let go of her wrist, stopped her once more.

Before Lanaya could say anything, another woman pushed through the crowd to reach where Sarethia, Líadan, and Lanaya stood. Elatha had disappeared when attention had moved away from her. "I think you speak too harshly, Ímair," the woman said to the man, calmly tucking back a strand of brown hair that had fallen out of place in her struggle with the crowd. "Líadan is a Grey Warden, one who helped end the Blight. One who helped rid Denerim's alienage of slavers. My cousin has told me more than once how well-regarded she is among the elves in Denerim."

The man called Ímair didn't look terribly impressed. "This isn't Denerim."

"I never would have guessed," said Líadan, somewhat aware that she was now actively antagonizing the people antagonizing her, but she'd gone past the point of caring. She was still very much of a mind to leave, but Lanaya had yet to relinquish her grasp on Líadan's wrist. "I don't think we'll find any help here," she said to the Keeper, who did not seem determined, nor inclined, to leave.

"We have yet to ask," said Lanaya.

"They answered before we even had the chance."

"Not all of them." Lanaya gently let go of Líadan's wrist, and then turned to Sarethia. "May we speak with you?"

Sarethia bowed her head for a brief moment. "You already are. Ask whatever question you have. Perhaps the answer will be different than you expect."

Líadan felt naked under the eyes of the audience present. Making the request was already going to be difficult enough in private, but to ask in front of almost the entire alienage? Even in a close-knit Dalish camp, things were not done this way. You did not humiliate someone requesting help. You did not treat guests in this way, as long as they were of the People. It was, she decided, more than she could bear. Before she had even started shifting her weight to walk out, Lanaya's hand shot out once more and grabbed her by the wrist.

She decided that she really hated Keepers. Also, that Keepers shouldn't have reflexes like a hunter's. It was unnatural and inconvenient. She turned her glare on Lanaya, who remained unperturbed at the other Dalish elf's anger. Líadan recognized that the Keeper would not relent—they got a particular look when they decided on something, and got another particular glint to their eyes when they decided they would not change their minds. Líadan sighed and said to Sarethia, "We are looking for Nuala Tabris." There was a brief pause in the cadence of statement, the split-second where she had difficulty calling this uncooperative city elf the same as she called the elders in Dalish clans. "Hahren." The honorific tasted bitter when she spoke it.

Sarethia folded her arms over her chest, unmoved by Líadan's concession. "What business do you have with her?"

No, she would not speak of this in front of a Creators-forsaken crowd. No one should have to suffer such a thing. Enough of her privacy had been stolen from her; she would not allow more to be taken by those who were undeserving. "That is not your business."

"I think the—"

"Oh, give it up," said the woman who had defended Líadan, nudging her way past the gathered elves to stand near Lanaya. "I don't need you protect me, hahren. I am not even sure I require protection." Her worn but well-kept dress swirled about her legs as she turned to Lanaya. "I am Nuala Tabris. I invite you to my home so that we may talk." She shot a pointed look at the hahren. "I remember my manners, even if the others do not."

Lanaya briefly inclined her head. "Ma serannas. We are grateful for the invitation."

The confrontation over, most of the crowd wandered away. Others watched them curiously as the two Dalish elves followed Nuala to her small home. Inside, they found it much the same as Nuala's clothing: worn, yet clean and in good repair. She motioned for them to sit. "Would you care for some tea?" she asked them once they were seated.

"Please," said Lanaya.

Líadan wondered what sort of tea city elves had. Was it like the tea the humans had, tea she'd had to settle for during her time with them? Or was it more like Dalish tea, something she'd found only in Dalish clans? Tea that reminded her of long, serious, trying conversations with Keepers, yet also reminded her of what had once been her home. "You mentioned you have a cousin in Denerim?" she asked, noting a cradle in a far corner of the main room. A linen sheet had been thrown haphazardly over it, as if someone was afraid to touch it, yet no longer wished to see it. Nothing else in the room gave a single hint that there had been a baby. There were lumps under the sheet, and then Líadan understood. The rest of the child's belongings had been piled into the cradle. A burial of memories to banish the reminders of a harsh truth.

Nuala moved about, gathering the needed items for tea and then set to making it, cups already waiting. She accidentally knocked one of the cups with her elbow, and then quickly turned and caught it before it was even halfway to the floor. A blush colored her cheeks. "Yes, I do. Shianni. She's also the bann, made one after they brought down the walls and made the alienage the Elven Quarter. The job suits her." Nuala gave them a half-smile, clearly amused. "I think she enjoys her chances to shout at the human nobles during Landsmeets."

Líadan took immediate note that Nuala had said human and not shem, even though no humans were present to possibly offend. A good sign. She returned the smile. "I believe you are right. The Shianni I met during the Blight, and have run into occasionally in Denerim, seemed to relish the chances she got."

"Ah, so you do know her." Nuala bumped into a shelf, sending a jar towards the floor. She caught that one as well, frowned, and put it back in its place. Then she turned the frown onto the shelf, as if it had been where she'd not expected it.

"Yes," said Líadan, studying Nuala's movement with a warrior's eyes, which she had not expected to do. The city elves she remembered from the Blight had not been fighters. Yet unless Nuala had unbelievable raw talent, she had been trained. "She was the first city elf I ever took a liking to, back when I was fresh from my clan and a new Warden."

Nuala tilted her head as if a bit perplexed. "You have not always tolerated humans and city elves?"

"No. I am... very much changed from the Dalish elf conscripted by the Wardens during the Blight." She considered for a moment. "For the better. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Nuala handed each of them a cup of tea, and then with one for herself, sat down across from them at the small wooden table.

Líadan motioned toward the door. "Mostly. You saw what happened. It has been difficult, moving between both human and elvhen." She shrugged. "Add Dalish to the mix, and you get moments like we just had. The hold on my temper is far better than it once was, but I can only keep it for so long." It was also interesting to her that she had opened up so easily once not surrounded by a crowd of strangers. Nuala did not seem a stranger to her. She was an unknown, yet known, and reminded her strongly of Shianni. That reminder was not a bad thing.

Nuala smiled again. "I understand entirely. The temper part, at least. Perhaps part of the changing surroundings, as well. When I moved from Denerim to Highever after marrying Nelaros..." Her words faltered, and neither of the other women missed the grief passing through Nuala's eyes. She quickly regained her confidence. "I had difficulty adjusting at first. The alienage here in Highever is different than the one in Denerim. There seems to be more resentment of everyone not of the Highever Alienage—humans and Dalish alike. The most scorn is reserved for the elves who choose to live outside the alienage and outside the Dalish. I was... not used to that. In Denerim, we respected the Dalish more than resented them. We often had elves who would leave the city and attempt to find the Dalish to join them."

"They are always welcome," said Lanaya. "And if they do not know the old ways, they will be instructed."

Something in the way the Keeper looked at Nuala told Líadan that she was evaluating her for the same thing she was. "My birth clan had a member who came from Denerim. Pol was his name, I believe. Junar was still teaching him the bow when I left. But we never got very many city elves who found us. Those who did always stayed and responded well to instruction from the hunters."

Lanaya set her teacup down and leaned forward slightly. "Yet you would not need to be taught, would you? You are skilled in the ways of a hunter. I see it in the way you move, in the way you respond to your environment."

"My husband left things out the morning before he died. I kept them there when I returned from the healer's home, thinking that it would make it seem like he wasn't gone." Her smile was sheepish. "Instead, I run into things or knock them over and never forget that he is gone. That Kadri—" She stopped and looked toward the door, her eyes shining with memory and unshed tears.

Líadan shifted in her rickety chair, wondering if they should be here at all. She felt an intruder upon another woman's grief, and her request, if she made it, would only bring more attention to what Nuala had lost. She began to stand, an apology already on her lips. "Abelas. I am sorry for our intrusion. We should go."

"No, no need to apologize," said Nuala. "The grief is something to be borne, yes, but it cannot replace the life I have left to me. Please, tell me why you have come to speak with me."

She remained standing, unwilling to hurt this woman more. "I don't think it's a good idea." Her eyes flicked over toward the covered cradle for only a moment.

Nuala caught the look. "This is related to my daughter's death. Not speaking of it does nothing to alleviate the pain nor change what has happened. I may as well confront it before it confronts me when I least expect it." She motioned toward the chair next to Líadan. "Please, sit back down. Tell me what about my daughter's death brings you here, Warden."

"Call me Líadan. That is my name. Grey Warden is my job and my clan, but it is not everything." She returned to the chair. "Do you have a way to provide for yourself? I don't know how it works in alienages; they are very different from a Dalish clan when it comes to livelihoods."

"I'm not sure," said Nuala. "My skills are not very useful for jobs city elves tend to do. My domestic skill is adequate at best. The only real skills I have are the ones Keeper Lanaya mentioned and what I learned through the lone month of my daughter's life."

Líadan wanted to spring up and leave again at hearing the pain behind Nuala's almost firmly spoken words.

"What skills?" asked Lanaya when Líadan remained silent. "I did not specify, only alluded."

"Martial—fighting, really. Daggers or with only hands and feet. My mother taught me, the same as her mother taught her, and beyond. Most other city elves are uncomfortable with another elf possessing such skill, yet Nelaros not only tolerated it, but encouraged it. I would have taught my daughter the same."

"If you would consent, I would like to see what you can do," said Líadan, truly curious. It sounded like one of Nuala's ancestors had been more recently Dalish, for some reason separated from her clan—perhaps fell in love with a city elf, like Zevran's mother had—yet kept the way of the hunter, and passed it to her daughters.

Nuala's eyes brightened a little. "Maybe. If you really want to see a fighter's skill, you should see my cousin Rhian. My mother taught both of us after Rhian's mother was killed, and Rhian really took to it. My father still laments that he will never find her a husband."

"Find a husband? Your marriages are arranged?"

"Yes. Usually between different alienages so no one place becomes too insular. The parents arrange it between themselves. We normally don't find out until it's very close to the wedding, and usually don't even meet our intended spouses until right before the ceremony."

Líadan sat up straight at hearing yet another freedom denied to the city elves—one they seemed to deny to themselves. "You have no say in this?"

"Is it not the same among the Dalish?" Nuala's brow furrowed. "One would think with the dwindling numbers of Dalish—"

"Every child of the Dalish is raised knowing that they must eventually bond and have children so that the hope of elvhenan never dies." Though the explanation came out rapidly and without prior thought, halfway through, Líadan realized that she had betrayed that teaching. It did not hurt to say; the pain flared afterward, squeezing her chest. She had no more explanation to give, her look to Lanaya almost helpless, pleading with her to carry on the conversation.

The Keeper nodded almost imperceptibly at Líadan, and then turned to Nuala. "A Keeper can sometimes suggest a match, but both parties have the option of turning it down."

"Thank the Creators," said Líadan, glad to have something else to think about, such as Fenarel's idiotic bonding request.

Nuala raised an eyebrow at her. "You were offered a bad match in your clan?"

"Horrible," said Líadan. "The suggested bondmate was and is a prat. Warden or not, I would never have bonded with him. It took a great deal of talking—some of it with fists—to convince him of how bad an idea it was."

"So this was recent?" After Líadan nodded, Nuala continued. "So did they not know about... the... the prince?"

At first, Nuala's inability to simply call Malcolm by his name puzzled her, and then Líadan remembered that he wasn't just Malcolm to the city elves—he was a member of the family that ruled them. "Malcolm? No. Not at first. Then I told them and they didn't have the best reaction. It also wasn't the worst."

"Is it..." Nuala still seemed to be having trouble speaking of the man she saw as a prince in even vaguely familiar terms.

"You can talk about him plainly. He is a person, like anyone else, and he'd be the first to tell you. Ask whatever you'd like. I don't mind answering questions for those who do not judge me before hearing my story."

"All right. It's just strange for me." She hooked a thumb through the handle of her empty teacup and took a breath. "Is it true about what they say? That when the Wardens returned from Drake's Fall after the Witch of the Wilds escaped, that he brought back a son she'd given him?"

"Yes and no," said Líadan. "She did give him a son, but Morrigan is gone from Thedas, and will not return for a very long time, most likely not until after we have all passed to the Beyond. She left the child with Malcolm, and... she asked that I take her son as my own. I told her I would. So when the Wardens returned from Drake's Fall, we brought back Malcolm's son, but also my own. His name is Cáel."

Nuala sat back, surprise showing plainly in her raised eyebrows at the answer she'd been given. "Well," said Nuala, "that wasn't the answer I expected." She mulled over the information before looking at Líadan once more. "Are you here to ask me to become a Warden?"

"No. I..." Why was this so difficult? She did not normally have difficulty saying what needed to be said, unless Malcolm was involved—oh. That explained it. She sighed, and then tried again. "Before she departed, Morrigan traveled with Lanaya's clan. A member of her clan, Panowen, has been Cáel's nurse since he was born. She does not want to leave her clan, yet—"

"You would have no way to feed your son," said Nuala.

Her statement made Líadan feel strangely inadequate, that she could not provide Cáel with sustenance. As one trained a hunter, it would have bothered her in the first place. Yet, now that she was his mother, it bothered her in a way she'd not foreseen. "No, I do not. Not unless we remained with the Ra'asiel, but that's not an option—"

"—for obvious reasons." Nuala straightened and folded her hands before her on the table. "I will need to meet your son before I decide. I would also need to meet Malcolm since I gather I would be around him as much as I would be around you."

"I haven't even asked yet," said Líadan.

"The question was obvious once you explained the situation." Nuala smiled warmly at her. "It might be what I need—something that once sustained my daughter could allow another child to grow and thrive. That all that was her has not been lost. However, I still need to meet the child and his father before I give you my final decision."

Líadan was speechless for the second time that day.

"I believe the words Líadan has forgotten are: ma serannas. Thank you," said Lanaya.

"Yes, thank you," said Líadan, startled back to speech. "When would be good for you to visit? Or would you rather we come here? Or..." She remembered that Nuala had only wakened from her unconsciousness the day before. "How is your health? I'm no healer, but I see that you appear to be without remnants of your injuries."

"I am well. The hahren summoned one of the healers."

Líadan raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware the alienage had mage healers."

"The alienage doesn't, no." Nuala stood and cleared the table. "I think it would be best if I went up to the castle. If just you and the Keeper caused such a scene today, I'm afraid I've no idea what the appearance of the prince and his son as well as you would do."

"Oh, you aren't going to tell us who healed you," said Líadan, catching the hint and standing, while Lanaya did the same. "Fair enough. The other Wardens and I once ran into what the humans call a 'hedge mage' here in Highever. Nicest lady. Helped us get rid of the Tevinters. And Alistair met her, too. She helped us find a missing person. Never got to ask her name. I owe her my thanks. A few of us do."

"Saitada," said Nuala. "She's the one who healed me. She has... always been good to the elves. And to others. Highever would be in trouble without her. Far more sick, that's for certain."

"The Chantry allows mages outside the Dalish go to waste," said Líadan. "The Gift is thrown away far too often." She paused, and then changed subjects, knowing she would just get worked up again. "What time tomorrow?"

"Morning would be fine. Should I just give my name at the gate and the guards will be expecting me?"

Líadan frowned at realizing she didn't know how arrangements worked for Highever visitors who weren't Grey Wardens. She'd always just walked in pretty much unquestioned, even if she wasn't accompanying Malcolm. The only question that came was if the messengers or guards could manage to announce her presence before she got into the main hall. "I'll arrange it."

The agreement seemed to brighten Nuala. "Tomorrow morning, then."