Wilder
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The qunari Anouk recruited to their party creeped Alistair out. Maybe it was his eyes, a light lavender color Alistair had never seen before, though there was something cold, judgmental, undeniably… frightening in his stare. Or perhaps it was the fact that Sten towered over Alistair and Dmitri by two heads, and the size of his hands could probably completely cover Alistair's face. Then again, it could possibly have something to do with the fact that Sten killed eight people with his bare hands. It baffled Alistair that Anouk was perfectly okay to have the murdering qunari travel with them but not the Chantry sister.
That didn't seem to bother Anouk though who had gotten herself thrown out of the Chantry for threatening the Revered Mother as she tried to convince the old woman to relinquish the key to his cage. Well, the Templars tried to throw her out anyway, it was a little difficult for them considering their heavy plate and robes and Anouk being a lithe thing who was throwing elbows and knees as they "escorted" her out with the Revered Mother screeching "get that barbarian out of the house of the Maker!" all the while.
"Just what did you think you would accomplish by threatening the old biddy?" Dmitri had wondered, though he had been entertained by the whole scene.
"It clearly did not matter what I said to her, as soon as the old woman realized I was Chasind, she was not going to give me anything I requested," Anouk had replied and crossed her arms.
Leliana had come out of the Chantry shortly after, rucksack thrown over her shoulder, red in the face once again. She had witnessed Anouk's scene with the Revered Mother and was not happy about it, at all. The crazy lay sister yelled at Anouk for a moment, gesticulating wildly, her accent growing thicker in her ire, but Anouk quickly stopped Leliana's rant and told her that if she still wished to come that Anouk would require her to retrieve the key to Sten's cage. Leliana huffed and floundered before she stomped back up the Chantry steps.
As he walked, he looked around at his traveling companions: a Chasind-turned-Grey-Warden, an noble-turned-Grey-Warden, a swamp witch, a Chantry sister who heard voices, and a killer qunari. Their group didn't exactly fill Alistair with much enthusiasm. Outside the Wilds, Morrigan was an apostate; no one would respect Anouk because she was Chasind; a powerful noble was out for Dmitri's blood; no one would trust Leliana because she was Orlesian; Alistair, himself, was an inconvenience to the throne and because they now had Sten traveling with them, Alistair would likely sleep with one eye open.
They helped a traveling dwarven merchant and his son from a small group of darkspawn not far outside of Lothering on the Imperial Highway. Bodahn was nice and helpful, more helpful than the merchants in Lothering, giving them a discount on his wares and accepting higher prices for what the party sold him.
They followed Anouk as she ventured off the Imperial Highway to tromp through unbeaten paths, occasionally stopping to look around and every once in awhile crouching down to inspect something. Night was settling in fast, chill creeping through Alistair's splintmail to wrap icy fingers around his bones. He could see Leliana rubbing her arms though the woman dared not speak and every time Dmitri breathed his breath made a hazy cloud in front of his face. Sten was silent, the cold made no difference to him and Morrigan had turned into a wolf, trotting just ahead of the them and occasionally circling back to weave through the group. Alistair wisely kept his mouth shut when the thought that he preferred Morrigan as a wolf bloomed in his mind.
"Anouk, where are we going? We should make camp," Alistair suggested.
"Have you forgotten that we have no tents, no bedrolls? Bodahn had none and neither did the merchants in Lothering," she called back. "Our destination is not much further."
"How can you tell?" Leliana asked.
Anouk stopped and pointed slightly to her right and for a moment Alistair could see nothing, but he followed the direction of Anouk's finger until an assortment of stones and twigs and leaves came into his view at the base of a tree. There was nothing special or different about the small collection, it simply looked like the twigs and leaves had fallen from the branches naturally no different than any other. Confused, he felt his eyebrows push together, "What is that?"
"A trail sign," Anouk replied, "left by my people to let any Chasind fleeing the Wilds know there is a camp not far from here. My kin in Lothering told me they were camped off the Highway and that they can offer us what supplies we need."
It did not take much longer before the Chasind were upon them. Anouk had stopped abruptly, listening and Alistair strained his ears to hear what she did but the only thing he heard was the sounds of nature, nothing to make him believe anyone was near them. How wrong he was. They shifted into existence from the trees themselves, rose from the underbrush, drawing forward cautiously with bows trained on them.
"Kaga egoi?" One of them said.
Beside him, Alistair heard Anouk swallow. "Saqwu vhnai hia Kanati."
It was the first time Alistair was close enough to hear Anouk speak fluently in her native tongue. Though there was nothing wrong with the way Anouk spoke common, the syllables of the Chasind language tumbled out of her mouth pleasantly. He didn't hear the slight hesitations he sometimes did when she spoke common as though she was unsure of her wording or pronunciation, her voice was resonant, confident. The cadence of her words, that were incomprehensible Alistair, fit inside the timbre of Anouk's voice just a bit better as was to be expected of a person speaking their native language.
The man lowered his bow and nodded, "Dehana."
They followed the man breaking through a copse of trees into the camp that was brightly lit by several fires. A dozen tents were pitched around the camp and at least three dozen pairs of eyes looked up as their group stepped into the Chasind camp. Alistair abruptly felt the desire to disappear back into the tree line of the clearing for all the glaring expressions he saw directed at them and held in his instinct to place his hand on the hilt of his sword. He briefly wondered if it was how Anouk felt whenever she ventured out of the Wilds - out of place and guarded.
Though he carried no staff, Alistair knew the old man for what he was when he walked toward Anouk; he felt the energies of the Shaman's magic tingle all along his senses, felt the uncomfortable pull of it in his gut. He approached with another man, slightly younger than the white-haired Shaman, but dressed just as fantastically in colorful clothing adorned with fur and feathers and jewelry made from bone. The second man's hair reached his waist and was neatly tied back from his face that bore the marking of the Chasind men Alistair had seen in Lothering.
Anouk spoke to the two men for a few moments, gesticulating as she answered their inquiries. Finally, there came a moment where the Shaman held out his hands to Anouk and she removed her bow from her shoulder before handing it to the old man. Alistair watched with mild curiosity as the old man's hands moved along the wood of the bow, his fingers seeming to feel for something he would not have been able to find with his eyes.
After the Shaman handed Anouk her bow she turned to the group. "They will allow us to camp here for the night and have agreed to give us what supplies we need."
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Anouk did not return to their group until much later in the night. Many of the fires had been snuffed out, candles inside the tents had flickered and died. Alistair and Dmitri could not sleep for the nightmares that raged behind their eyes every time they tried and had opted for taking the first watch together.
Alistair had watched the Chasind camp function with interest. There was a definite hierarchy that was strictly adhered to; he had noticed many people stepping out of Anouk's way as she passed through the camp just as they had done for the Shaman and the Chief among them, who had introduced himself as Esarosa. But others did not step away from Anouk as she passed, and these men and women bore the same mark on their arms that Anouk did. What did it make her to them, Alistair wondered.
And then there were others that no one gave any regard to. These men and women were dressed shabbily, no armor as their other tribesmen, merely unremarkable wool clothing and they carried no weapons. Some bore ugly scar tissue on their faces that stretched down their neck disappearing beneath their shirts, others on their upper arms only. Alistair never heard them speak and they kept their eyes strictly on the ground never meeting anyone's gaze and following an order no matter who gave it.
When Anouk returned to them Alistair could see the signs of her exhaustion. Wrinkled brow, bloodshot eyes held by the dark circles beneath them, the slump in her shoulders. She sat across the way from Dmitri and Alistair, sighing as she pulled off her gloves and working her wrists until they popped.
"This must be difficult for you," Dmitri ventured when she did not speak first.
Alistair wondered how badly Anouk wanted to lie to them then, or how much she wished she could play off her discontentment at being among her people again, being reminded that her own tribe no longer lived. Did she think herself weak for being affected? Did she believe that there was something more she could have done to save even one member of her tribe?
But Anouk nodded, "Yes." Another sigh and she turned her head back and forth working the pain from her neck. "They have agreed to help us fight the Blight. Esarosa will be searching for surviving tribes on the outskirts of the Wilds and perhaps move to a temporary camp in the northern lowlands. When the time comes to fight the Archdemon, they will be there."
"Did you ask about my brother?" Dmitri wondered.
"I have," Anouk said. "They have not come across any men from the King's army thus far, I asked them to watch for a man matching your brother's appearance."
Dmitri nodded, "I appreciate it, Anouk."
"Gvlieliga." she replied. "You are welcome."
"I was… curious," Alistair began, "what are you to your people? They move out of your way as they would the Chief and Shaman."
Her hand went to the bird's skull hung around her throat, "I amthe daughter of a Chief and though they are not my tribe I am still recognized as such."
"So you're… Chasind royalty?"
A small smile quirked the corner of Anouk's mouth, "Nothing so fanciful, I assure you. Were I born a man I would become Chief, but as it stands I am a woman, my husband would have been Chief if I married. And I would have become one of the Agigau… the Greatly Beloved Woman."
Then a bizarre sadness that Alistair did not understand filled her eyes and her fingertips came to rest on her mouth. Had she been betrothed at one point, and had her intended died in the battle with the darkspawn? Something in Alistair's chest clenched seeing the expression overcome her features but he resisted the urge to reach out and rest his hand on her knee. With great effort it seemed, Anouk clenched her eyelids shut and shook her head and when her lashes fluttered apart he recognized the distance returning to her pale eyes.
"And your tattoo?" Dmitri asked, having stepped out of his sulking for a moment.
"My… what? I… do not know that word," Anouk admitted, her cheeks coloring.
"The mark on your arm," he clarified.
"Ah," Anouk answered. "It is my signa, or mark given to me after I underwent what my people call a Signum, that is our coming of age ritual. It shows that I am one of the Kanati, or a hunter."
"What did you have to do to become a hunter?" Alistair asked.
"I was sent to the ajewia, the frozen land beyond the Wilds by myself and I could not return until I brought back my first kill," she replied. "It was a white wolf whose pelt I wear even still, many of the hunters wear the pelt of their first." Anouk ran her hand over the pelt tied at her hips and a rueful smile spread across her lips, "I still bear the scars he gave me."
Dmitri leaned forward engrossed in Anouk's story. "How old were you when you went through this?"
"I had seen fourteen summers."
"I assume you were given your bow when you returned?" Dmitri asked.
She nodded, "Yes. My bow was crafted for my hands only which is why the Ganagati asked to look at it, to ensure that it was, in fact, my bow and not another's."
Alistair asked the next question. "And if it was another's?"
"It would have been taken from me and I would lose my signa," she replied with a shrug. "A hunter must never lose his bow, just as a Ditlihi, or warrior, must never lose his sword. If he does, he has dishonored his tribe and the Great Spirit and becomes one of the Usiwa, the vacant; he is no longer permitted to speak and is reduced to nothing more than a servant, compliant until death, expected to sacrifice himself first in a battle so that in his death, he may reach the ghost country with a clean spirit."
Alistair thought back to the few men and women he had seen walking back and forth through the camp, scarred, running errands and following orders from others. These must have been the Usiwa, the vacant, stripped of their status - literally. Their marks had been cut from their skin, the scars left behind a reminder of the disgrace they carried. He thought it cruel, barbaric even… until he remembered that the Circle did something similar to mages. Considering that the vacant still dreamed, still felt emotions, it made the Rite of Tranquility seem the more barbaric practice.
"You should get some sleep," Alistair suggested to Anouk. They should all get some sleep really, none of them had rested since leaving Flemeth's almost a day and a half ago. "It's nearly a week's trek to Redcliffe."
Anouk nodded, "Perhaps, but I will stay with you on watch."
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Anouk couldn't help but shake her head and smile at the two men, both snoring lightly in their sleep, one of them occasionally muttering something incomprehensible before shifting and settling again. Every so often she would see their foreheads wrinkle and noises of discontent reached her ears, but Alistair and Dmitri rested well for awhile.
She would have fallen asleep herself, but Anouk was able to push past her exhaustion as it was sometimes required of a hunter when tracking prey. She stoked the fire when it dimmed, trying desperately to keep the lump in her throat from rising higher. Being among her people again was almost too much. The overwhelming sensation of being with her kin, of belonging with people who knew her, who knew her soul, how her mind worked because of her culture and would not judge her because of it was almost enough to make her stay with the camp. But when she looked to Alistair and Dmitri, who were both looking to her, she knew she could not leave them.
And she could not let down her people. She had told Esarosa of her Grey Warden status, of their plan to gather an army to combat the Blight. He had said that if times were not so dire, they would have celebrated Anouk being a Grey Warden for it was a high honor. Word quickly spread through the camp that she had become a Grey Warden and it did not take long for Anouk to see the shift in everyone's gaze when they looked at her. The unabashed awe and the sickening hope they placed on her all because of what she had become, and the stories of the Wardens they had heard through the Shaman. But they knew not what it took to become a Grey Warden. She felt unworthy of their trust, of their praise and hero-worship because she was deceiving them - wearing a human guise even as the Dark One's taint undulated in her blood.
She distracted herself for a time pulling the Grey Warden treaties from Alistair's pack to look them over. The papyrus was thin with age, almost transparent and it amazed Anouk that they had remained intact for so many years. The paper was soft beneath her fingers, wrinkled and creased from being rolled, unrolled, folded and unfolded countless times over. The ink that was used to write them had faded somewhat over time, but the letters were elegant, spidery, looped and connected as they sprawled across the pages in neat rows.
And none of it made any sense to Anouk.
Some of the letters were vaguely familiar bearing the smallest resemblance to her own language, but the way they were arranged and put together to form words was unintelligible. She had been speaking common for most of her life, had learned it at a young age from one of the Chantry missionaries who came to her village. The man… Brother Rouen his name had been, if she remembered correctly, had actually lived in her village for quite a few years, most of her childhood, in fact. Her father had always been relatively open to the Chantry missionaries who came to the village, at least the ones who were not overly zealous, and he had liked Rouen because the missionary had actually taken the time to understand the Chasind culture. So when Rouen asked her father to allow him to teach the children to read and speak the common tongue used in Ferelden, her father allowed it. But she never learned to read common, she never had the patience to sit and learn letters - she learned as most children did, by example, by doing and listening to him speak.
Leliana emerged from one of the tents, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she blearily ambled her way to Anouk's side and plopped down. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she asked.
"Probably," Anouk answered, "but Alistair and Dmitri fell asleep on their watch and I decided to let them rest for now."
"You can sleep, it is my watch now," the lay sister said, giving Anouk a reassuring smile.
But Anouk shook her head, "I will sleep when we make camp next." She motioned to the papers in her hands, "I am trying to make sense of these."
Leliana's eyebrows knitted together taking in the small collection of papers in Anouk's hand, "What are they?"
"Our Grey Warden treaties. Alistair says they allow us to demand aid from dwarves, and elves, and mages during a Blight."
"… And you do not understand them?" Leliana inquired.
Anouk shook her head again. "I… cannot read them," she admitted, her voice sounding small and she felt her cheeks burn with shame.
Leliana's eyebrows shot up in surprise and her blue eyes widened. "Truly? But you are so well spoken!"
Sighing Anouk told her, "Speaking and reading do not necessarily coincide. I learned your common tongue from a Chantry missionary, I did not have the temperament to sit and learn letter arrangements."
Leliana nodded in understanding, looking sidelong at the treaties still in Anouk's hand. Anouk did not yet know what she thought of the lay sister who so brazenly told them she was going to accompany them on their mission to defeat the Blight. At first Anouk feared the woman would be as preachy as many of the lay sisters that came to the village and inevitably ran screaming from it. But so far Leliana had proven to be a rather quiet companion, her voice and the pleasant character of it putting Anouk at ease as she hummed to herself.
Anouk heard Leliana swallow beside her and take a hesitant breath before she said, "I could teach you, if you'd like."
Anouk found herself nodding, "I would like that, Leliana."
Chapter ten already? Whaaat? I feel like I just posted
chapter one the other day, how am I this far already? Hmm.
Okay so I lied, we're not really on our way to Redcliffe yet.
Next chapter, I promise! I wanted a chance to touch on
Chasind culture a bit before the story and the game plot
really had a chance to overshadow it.
The whole conversation Anouk has with Dmitri and Alistair
is entirely my imagination. And I also wanted to explain
how Anouk is so well spoken for being a Wilder.
Ahh yes lots of new words this chapter. Kind of. I went
back and edited chapter 2 and put some new words in that one
so if you have not read the edited chapter two some of these will
be new.
Kaga egoi? - Who goes?
Saqwu vhnai hia Kanati - One of the hunters
Dehana - come
Gvlieliga - You're welcome
Agigau - Greatly Beloved Woman [which in cherokee culture is not what I explained it
to be for Chasind culture. Look it up if you're curious, it would take too long for me to
explain it]
Signa/Signum - mark/marking. [This I actually got from the latin for "marking". I used
it before I had figure out what language I was going to use for Chasing language, and I'm now
too lazy to change it]
ajewia - waste [the lands south of the Wilds is described as a frozen wasteland, but
cherokee has no word for "wasteland" so it is merely a waste]
Kanati - hunter
Ditlihi - warrior
Usiwa - vacant
And that's it for translations. Thank you to
Cibiripilli, Judy and olivegbg for reviewing the last chapter!
I love you guys. There used to be more of you reviewing,
where'd everyone go? [sadface]
Anyway, enough rambling. See you next chapter!
-(gxr)-
EDITED: 12/22