Chapter 9
Tristan woke up to find himself covered in a blanket with his armor off. He sat up quickly, thinking for a moment that Brenna had done it again, that she had stolen from him during the night. But then he saw his things piled up to his side and all accounted for. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he was too hard on her. It's not like he had never stolen anything before. Although, those days were well behind him as he had many resources available to him now. He figured he was only angry with her because of what she had stolen from him – the necklace. It had been the only thing he had besides his tattoo that he had carried all his life. Well, it didn't matter now anyway. He never thought of his family or where he came from. He had made his own life after all.
Tristan looked around the room for Brenna. He spotted her asleep in a bed in the far corner of the room. Now that he was well rested he could concentrate a little easier. He noticed that Brenna had not really changed much. She was a little fuller, yes, and maybe a little less baby faced, but otherwise she didn't look a year older. Tristan thought of himself ten years ago; he was an awkward, skinny little mage. He wasn't usually vain, but he was thankful that he had grown taller and broader. Otherwise he couldn't see how he could have been able to use a sword. He had the use of magic, yes, but he preferred to fight with his sword. It was a lot less tiring and kept his body in great shape too.
Tristan stretched languidly and then arose from the floor. He crept over to his things and began putting them on. He had to be on his way after all. He kept an eye on Brenna, who never stirred from her slumber. He wondered if he should just leave. No, he couldn't do that. He owed her an apology and his gratitude. When he was fully armed, he quietly approached Brenna. He nudged her in the shoulder but she didn't stir.
"Brenna," he whispered. Still, she didn't budge. He pinched her shoulder this time. She awoke swiftly, grabbed his arm and brought her dagger inches away from his face. Tristan made no motion to move, not wishing to be stabbed in the face. Brenna, though, quickly realized who he was and put the dagger away.
"Sorry. You can never be too cautious when you live alone." Brenna defended her actions.
"Uh, no harm done." Tristan replied. Brenna noticed that Tristan was fully armed.
"Are you leaving?" she asked him. Tristan nodded. Brenna was disappointed, but what could she do? At least he had the decency to wake her before he left. Something she had not done a decade ago. She searched for her pouch.
"Brenna, I want to apologize for my sharp tongue yesterday. You didn't deserve that." Tristan said as she got up from bed and tried to find her pouch. Where did she put it? "I also want to thank you for your kindness. If you ever need anything, just ask and I'll see what I can do."
Brenna continued to search for her pouch, saying nothing to Tristan. Tristan became annoyed. Here he was apologizing and everything and she wasn't even paying any attention to him. "Are you even listening?" he asked her.
"Yes," she replied. Finally, she spotted her pouch and snatched it up. "I accept your apology and you don't owe me anything. If anything, I owe you something." She held up the pouch to Tristan. He looked at her, puzzled. She opened it up and pulled out the stolen necklace. She held it out to Tristan. He seemed surprised at its sudden appearance, a ghost from his past. He hesitated, unsure of what to do. She grabbed his hand and placed the necklace into it. "Take it back." Brenna said.
Tristan studied the necklace. He had almost forgotten what it looked like. It had been the only possession he had as a child in the Denerim orphanage and then in Kinloch Hold. He had always assumed it had belonged to his family. His mother's perhaps? The beads were faded and cracked. He realized that he couldn't take it back. "I can't," he told Brenna, handing it back to her. She took it, her turn to be puzzled.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I've come this far without it. I don't need it." Tristan replied.
"But it belongs to your family." Brenna protested.
"I never had a family. For all I know it was given to me by the chantry."
"You know, I would give anything to have something of my mother's. During the Blight, the darkspawn overran this place and destroyed every one of her possessions. I have nothing left to remember her by." Brenna's green eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill. "What if this belonged to your mother? It looks elven. Maybe it meant something special."
"How do you know it's elven?" Tristan asked.
Brenna hesitated for a second, and then reluctantly explained. "I am a halfling – an elf-blooded human. And though I never knew my father or his people, my mother had in her possession some of his trinkets and they looked similar to this. He was a merchant too, you know."
Tristan regarded Brenna thoughtfully, fingering his chin. "I am sorry to hear about your parents. But… are you suggesting my mother was an elf?"
"Your mother or your father, perhaps. Would it be the worst thing in the world to be a halfling?"
"Of course not. I never knew my mother. I never knew my father. It used to bother me. But it doesn't anymore. I have a new family, the Grey Wardens. If I never learned anything of my past, I would not feel cheated. My mother could have been a barbarian for all I know and it still wouldn't change who I am now." Tristan explained. This is getting awkward, he thought. Time to change the subject, then. "Keep the necklace. You've kept it all these years, there must have been a reason."
Tristan put a comforting hand on Brenna's shoulder. She swallowed back her emotions and looked up at him. "I kept it for you."
"Then hold onto it a little longer."
"Very well then." Brenna composed herself quickly as she placed the necklace back into her pouch. "You really must go? You cannot stay?"
"I must go."
"That is a shame." Brenna said quietly. Tristan turned to leave. When he reached the doorway, Brenna called out to him. "Wait, I must know, do you yet have a wife?"
Tristan's heart wrenched at the mention of having a wife. He thought of Leliana. He thought of his borrowed time as a Grey Warden. Morrigan and his child flashed through his mind. He turned to look sadly at Brenna. "No, but…"
"Ah, there is someone then." Brenna understood. Tristan nodded. "In any case, till we meet again. May the Maker watch over you, Tristan Amell, Commander of the Grey Wardens."
"Likewise, Brenna – the most beautiful halfling to grace Thedas." Tristan bid, grinning broadly, as he walked out the door. Brenna wasn't one to blush, but she couldn't help herself this time. She had been called beautiful, yes, but that was by men ignorant of her true identity, or by her mother. Otherwise, nobody had ever mentioned the words "halfling" and "beautiful" in the same sentence as her name.
…
Tristan met up with two of Alistair's scouts at the edge of the Korcari Wilds. To his surprise, Melisende's mabari hound, Loki, was with them. At the sight of Tristan, he barked happily, wagged his tail fervently and came charging toward him, leaping onto his shoulders and nearly knocking Tristan over.
"Hey boy, I see you've been put back to work." Tristan patted Loki on the head, forcing the dog back onto four legs, avoiding being licked in the face. He never liked being licked by dogs. Something about it just grossed him out completely.
Meanwhile, the two scouts came over to him, awe on their young faces.
"Told ya it was the Commander of the Grey," one of them gloated to the other. "Look at the way the hound remembers him. And the sword… look at it! It's legendary!"
The other scout glowered, annoyed at being wrong.
"You are the Commander, right?" the enthusiastic scout asked.
"Yes." Tristan replied.
"We were expecting you." The calmer scout stated. "There hasn't been any more movement at the hut, so we were just leaving. We had sent another of our scouts back to Denerim when we first made the sighting. You sure made it here fast."
"Right. I am going to investigate the hut anyway." Tristan continued forward. Loki followed him. The scouts looked quizzically at one another and then made to follow as well. Tristan turned back to his followers. "You don't have to come."
"Are you sure, sir? You might need help."
"No, it's alright. Thank you. I'm off." Tristan continued forward once again. One of the scouts tried to call Loki back, but Loki whined and strutted after Tristan, pawing at his legs. "The hound can come with me." Tristan called to the scouts. The scouts shrugged and then went on their way.
…
Flemeth's hut. It was still standing. Tristan remembered Flemeth warning Morrigan not to be surprised if she came back to a burnt out hut, overrun by darkspawn. Well, that had not happened. And Flemeth herself, Tristan had killed her, at Morrigan's own request. Why did Morrigan have so much power over him? That would end, soon, he vowed as he stumbled into the old hut, the door creaking loudly.
Everything was as he had remembered it. The bed stood in the center of the room, warmed by a fireplace directly across it. Wait a minute, the fireplace. It looked recently used. So, Morrigan probably was or had been here. He made to move toward the fireplace, Loki following closely at his heels.
"Not another step!" came a warning from behind. Tristan turned around to see from whom it came. It was an elf, Dalish from the looks of her tattooed face. "What are you doing here?"
Loki growled menacingly at the elf. He threatened to jump on her.
"Call off your hound, shem!" the elf commanded, pointing her longsword at the dog. A Dalish warrior, in Flemeth's hut? Was this the sighting the scouts reported? If so, then Tristan was no closer to finding Morrigan.
"Easy there boy." Tristan crouched down to calm Loki. Loki reluctantly backed down. Arising, Tristan glanced at the elf. "I am here because my scouts thought you were someone else."
"Scouts?" the elf questioned aloud. Now that Loki had backed down, she seemed to decide that Tristan was no threat. She sheathed her sword, and with a thoughtful look on her face, examined Tristan more closely. "So you are here for a purpose? You cannot have mistaken me for Flemeth, so you must be looking for her daughter, the mysterious Morrigan. We have something in common, then. The young witch has caused trouble for my clan. Has she earned your ire as well?"
Tristan wasn't sure how to reply. This was a personal matter. He had no idea who this elf was, but clearly Morrigan had been up to no good, as usual making more enemies than friends. "She's a friend, and I am concerned for her."
The elf looked surprised and even seemed to hold back a laugh. "A friend? Of all the words associated with a Witch of the Wilds, those are the last I expected."
Tristan ran a hand through his hair. This elf was not Morrigan, but perhaps she had been in Morrigan's presence. Maybe she could help Tristan after all.
"Perhaps you can reason with her, then," the elf broke through Tristan's thoughts. "Morrigan stole an ancient book my clan has guarded since the days of Arlathan. We were the only ones with such a piece of our history."
A book? What did Morrigan want with a book? Perhaps it had something to do with magic? "What's so special about this book?" he asked the elf.
"For almost two thousand years, the Dalish people have been wanderers, a shadow of what we once were. This book – as much of a mystery as it is to us – is one of the only clues on how to reclaim that past. My Keeper, Solan, says it was a treatise on something the ancients called 'Eluvian'. The word is as old as the book itself, and its meaning has been lost. Save perhaps to Morrigan," explained the elf.
"Not to be rude here, but how do you know Morrigan stole it?"
"One month ago, she visited our clan in the name of friendship, and took great interest in our history. She knew exactly what she was looking for. The keeper allowed her to see the book. Two nights later, it was gone."
So, this elf had seen Morrigan. Did she have his child with her? The elf hadn't said anything about a child. Where was it? And why did Morrigan want to steal a book from the elves? "So what now?" he asked the elf.
The elf came closer to Tristan, scrutinizing him, lost in her thoughts. Finally, she replied. "Help me. We both want Morrigan, and we can aid each other. The Book of Eluvian was reclaimed for my clan by an elven mage, who stole it from the Circle of Magi before defecting. He said other similar treasures remain in the library, but they would never allow a Dalish to view them. Perhaps you will meet a different reception…"
The Circle Tower? That was the last place he wanted to go, but if it led him closer to Morrigan, to his child, then he would go there a thousand times over. "I used to live there. They will let me, us, in."
The elf smiled. "Ma serannas, I look forward to working with you."
Tristan grinned back. "Then let us go."
They made their way to the creaky door. Loki growled at it, pawing furiously at the floor, ready to dash out. Tristan felt his senses tingle, the taint in his blood heat up.
"What is his problem?" the elf asked, curiously watching Loki.
"Darkspawn, outside the hut." Tristan replied calmly. In preparation, Tristan unsheathed his sword. The elf copied him. He opened the door and Loki ran out in a frenzy, attacking the first darkspawn to appear. Tristan and the elf followed. Immediately, a trio of darkspawn came toward Tristan, brandishing their garish swords and axes. As he blocked arrows from further out genlocks with his shield, he cast a lightning spell at the trio, which allowed him to cut them down in a few swift movements. Meanwhile, the elf expertly took out the archers with her sword. Loki clawed furiously at a hurlock. The fight was over quickly.
"You fight like the elven warriors of old, a master of both the arcane arts and the sword," the elf remarked, catching her breath and dripping with darkspawn gore.
"And you are one of the most talented Dalish warriors I have ever seen fight." Tristan returned the compliment. The elf blushed at the compliment. "What is your name, by the way?"
"Ariane," she replied, wiping the gore off her sword.
"I am Tristan," he extended his hand toward Ariane. After a slight hesitation, she took it.
"I thought the Blight was over." Ariane mused as she took in the sight of the dead darkspawn around them.
"They are naught but stragglers. There will yet be more like them, but eventually, they will all be taken care of. They are no longer a match for us." Tristan explained.
"For us?" Ariane asked, a little confused.
"The Grey Wardens." Tristan replied.
"Ah, so that is how you knew of their presence. I thought your dog was growling at nothing…"
"Yes, well, Loki does sometimes growl at nothing. You will see."
As if he knew they were talking of him, Loki barked and pranced around. Eager to be on his way, Tristan looked back at the hut one last time before walking away from the Korcari Wilds.
