The mood was largely upbeat as the party broke camp. With a good push and no unforeseen delays they'd likely reach the Dalish camp by mid-day. Even Misery, who was otherwise reticent from fatigue and still feeling the effects of the previous evening's strong emotions, managed a smile at the knowledge that the end was in sight.
Shortly after breaking camp, the mountain trail led the party into a dark forest that almost immediately changed the mood of the morning. The broad-leafed trees formed a thick canopy overhead. What little light filtered through created an occasional silhouette along the forest floor, only adding to the eerie atmosphere.
The wildlife was disconcertingly quiet for most of the morning, making everyone wary. The absence of natural sounds drew even more attention to the crunching of dried leaves under their boots. Every little noise seemed amplified, resulting in a palpable level of tension among the companions.
Not only was it obvious that anyone out here would hear them coming from a mile away, but the trees themselves aggressively hugged the narrow, winding path the group traversed single file. Anders wondered out loud at one point if the trees were going to attack them, his tone belying the nervousness his sarcasm sought to hide. Even the nearly unflappable Aveline had questioned if they were actually being herded by the forest down a specific path.
It was nearly mid-day when the adventurers finally emerged from the darkness of the densely packed forest. At least they thought it was mid-day by the length of time they'd been on the trail. The sky was too overcast to tell for sure. Sunlight broke through the cloud cover, but the sun itself wasn't visible.
Misery shuddered, in part from the relief she felt from escaping the forest and in part from the warmth of the sunlight raising goose bumps on her chilled skin. She glanced back at her companions, noting their equally relieved expressions.
Before the tension completely drained, however, Misery spied a trio of elves a short distance ahead. Judging by the bows they had armed and at the ready, she assumed they were Dalish scouts or hunters.
"Hold up," Misery quietly ordered.
She slowly turned to face her companions, motioning towards the elves. "Looks like we have found them. Remember, no aggressive moves, and do not even think of reaching for your weapons unless we're actually attacked. Assume for every one Dalish you see there are ten more you can't see."
"Right," Aveline agreed, "if they decide to attack, it likely won't matter if our weapons are already drawn or not."
Nodding, Misery resumed walking. As they got closer to the elves, she held her hands up, palms exposed in a show of non-aggression. Despite the gesture, the elves maintained hostile expressions and threatening postures while blocking the path.
"You shems are lost," the male elf in the middle of the three stated forcefully. "I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came."
"Shems?" Bethany asked in confusion.
"Racial slur for humans," Aveline whispered. She was careful to keep her tone neutral.
Misery shook her head slowly at the elf. "I would love to. However, I was tasked by a Witch of the Wilds in Ferelden to deliver an amulet to Keeper Marethari."
"Asha'bellanar?" the elf to the left asked in obvious astonishment.
The elf in the middle waved off the younger man. His eyes narrowed at the female shemlen in front of him. "That way," he grumbled, motioning towards a path further ahead. "Make your business quick and then go."
He then stepped to the side to allow them to pass, his companions following suit.
Misery merely nodded before leading the others on. Even if she wasn't going out of her way not to provoke them, she still wouldn't argue. After having a brief, fitful nap the previous evening as the only sleep she'd gotten in the last day and a half, coupled with the physical demands of the journey and the stress that had been involved, she was near exhausted both mentally and physically. Pride be damned, she just wanted to get delivering the stupid amulet over with.
-==0==-
The party trudged on for another quarter mile down a path that hugged a natural rock wall to their left before reaching a gap in the wall roughly twenty feet across. Standing on either side of the gap were fifteen foot tall wooden posts. Identical red and white banners hung from the posts, flowing in the wind. The banners bore a symbol in the shape of a horned animal head.
"Halla," Bethany said softly while pointing to a banner.
"What's that?" Anders asked.
"Halla," she repeated. "I remember Sister Leliana telling a story of them back at the Lothering Chantry. Halla are sacred beasts to the Dalish."
"I wouldn't put too much stock in anything the sister told you," Misery suggested. "She wasn't the most… mentally stable."
Anders chuckled. "An archdemon shy of a Blight?"
"Pretty much."
Bethany pouted. "You're awful! Sister Leliana was so sweet! I miss her stories."
Anders scratched at his beard in thought while the group walked through the opening. He'd briefly met a Leliana with the Hero of Ferelden during his time in Amaranthine, but from the way Misery was describing her he couldn't imagine it was the same person. He shook the thought away, however, as his attention was grabbed by the sight of more angry elves.
"What are you shemlen doing here?" a male elf demanded of the approaching visitors. He held a pair of daggers in his hands, one of which was now pointed at the throat of the raven haired female leading them. The woman next to him had an arrow notched and ready to set into flight.
Andraste's ass! Anders thought. These guys make Misery look like the grand champion of a congeniality competition.
Revas growled low at the man who was threatening his master.
"Revas, sit," Misery said calmly while not breaking eye contact with the elf. As the mabari complied, the male elf raised an eyebrow curiously at Misery regarding the word she'd used to address the dog.
"I was sent to deliver an amulet to Keeper Marethari," Misery explained. "It's from a woman your people call Asha'bellanar."
The elven man and woman exchanged uneasy glances. "I… I would have thought an elf would be bringing it," the woman said.
The man nodded. "This must be the one the keeper spoke of though." He turned back to Misery. "The keeper has been expecting your arrival." After a moment's pause he added, "For some time now." He then whistled loudly, and almost immediately a dozen armed elves appeared.
"Escort the shems to the keeper," he commanded to the squad of warriors, never taking his eyes off of the mostly human group. His eyes narrowed further as he addressed the female shem at the front.
"I warn you to be respectful. We don't want your kind here, and if you cause any trouble you'll be dead before you know it. You have no idea how many arrows will be trained on you at all times."
Once again, Misery merely nodded wearily in acknowledgement and moved on. She believed them completely and had no intention of calling their bluff. However, she thought it was rather ironic that the elf was warning them about being respectful while throwing racial slurs around.
-==0==-
Misery's eyes were in near constant motion as the group entered the main part of the Dalish camp. Their arrival was clearly unwelcome, as everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare suspiciously at them.
The camp itself was enclosed by the mountain on either side. The front part they'd entered through was seemingly the only way back down, since looking out on the horizon it appeared that the backside of the camp led even further up Sundermount.
Behind a grouping of tents on one side of the camp, a series of large wooden carriages lined the wall. Large red sails gave the carriages the appearance of land ships. Misery could see harnesses at the front and wondered if they were pulled by these halla the Dalish seemed especially fond of, considering the proliferation of those same red and white banners throughout the camp.
As they got deeper into the Dalish camp, Misery glanced over questioningly at Aveline and the redhead nodded. It wasn't lost on either of them that the elves were slowly surrounding them. It wasn't an outright hostile reaction on the part of the Dalish, but it was obvious that they didn't trust the visitors and would quickly kill them if provoked.
"Steady, everyone," Aveline said quietly, sensing the tension growing even further. "Don't start getting skittish now."
As they drew near the center of the camp, another large group of warriors formed ranks in front of a diminutive old woman. An elven warrior drew his sword and stepped forward. "Surrender your weapons," he said sternly.
"Pardon me?" Misery asked in surprise.
"Your weapons. You will surrender them before meeting with the keeper."
Misery glanced around. Not like it will matter if we have our weapons or not. If they want to kill us we're already done for. After a couple of moments she nodded. "We will comply."
Without breaking eye contact with the warrior in front of her, she said to her companions, "Disarm and lay your weapons down at your feet. Oh, and slowly, if you will. Please do not give them an excuse to attack."
After the party disarmed, the ranks in front of them shifted, opening a path to what could only be the keeper. The woman was backed by a dozen more armed elves forming a semi-circle around her. As Misery and company stepped forward, the ranks closed behind them. They were fully surrounded.
Misery stopped several feet in front of the old woman that was eyeing them carefully but not with open hostility like the others. The woman had medium length gray hair pulled back in a bun, and the robes she wore along with the staff on her back made it apparent she was a mage.
The short, lithe female looked almost frail in appearance, though Misery and company knew better than to take any mage lightly. The woman bore the individually unique facial markings that seemed typical of the Dalish from what they'd seen so far, however, age and a lifetime outdoors had faded hers to the point where they blended almost naturally with her slightly darkened skin.
"Keeper Marethari?" Misery asked.
For the briefest of moments the woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion at how the child knew her name before she forced her expression to relax. It always made her nervous when shemlens found their camp. She never trusted their motives, and had long observed that they would usually act respectful as long as they felt threatened, but their actions and attitudes were anything but respectful when they thought they were no longer being watched.
It wasn't often that they had uninvited visitors like this, but being stuck in one place had resulted in a gradual increase in frequency. The group in front of her marked the fifth time they'd been imposed upon by outsiders in the year they'd been on Sundermount, whereas back in Ferelden they could go years without encountering anyone but other Dalish clans or the Chasind that they coexisted relatively peacefully with.
"I am," Marethari replied simply, continuing to gaze upon the girl that appeared to be the leader.
Marethari had always embraced the matronly role of her position as keeper, overseeing the welfare of the clan, and there wasn't a time when she didn't worry for the safety of every individual member. The presence of outsiders that could threaten their safety even more than what they already faced on the mountain only made that worry grow.
Misery sighed gently, relief beginning to wash over her haggard countenance. "Back in Ferelden I was given an amulet by a Witch of the Wilds to bring to you," she explained while taking her equipment pack from her back and beginning to rummage through it. After several moments, her eyes began to grow wide and her movements became more frantic.
"What's wrong, Hawke?" Varric asked.
"Bethany, did I give you the amulet to carry?" Misery asked, the feeling of dread seeping in.
The younger sister stared back at her in alarm. "N-no, you didn't. It's not in your pack?"
"No!" Misery nearly shouted, further increasing the tensions of the armed elves around them. Marethari took a small step back.
The female rogue dumped the contents of her pack on the ground and fell to her hands and knees. There wasn't much in there to begin with, but the amulet was nowhere to be seen.
"This can't be happening!" she choked out, fighting the urge to have a complete meltdown.
"Wait, Hawke, slow down," Varric began. "You had the amulet at camp yesterday, right?"
"I… I don't know…"
Varric gestured for her to relax. "You must have. If Sunshine is right about it being a medium or whatever that Flemeth uses to get to you, wouldn't it stand to reason that it had to be close by when you had that dream yesterday? Let's figure out where you last saw it and go from there."
"It doesn't matter, Varric! If I lost it along the trail…" She trailed off, unwilling to voice the implications.
The elder keeper studied the distraught expression on the girl's face, intently looking for any sign of deception. Not finding any, she moved on to the other members of the group. Finally she sighed and closed her eyes while holding her hand out in front of her.
Marethari's hand began to glow softly. After several seconds, the glow faded and she lowered her hand and opened her eyes.
"I believe you are wearing it around your neck," she said while tapping her own chest for effect. She allowed herself to relax slightly. She now knew these shemlens were here honestly. She could feel Asha'bellanar when her magic had touched the amulet.
Misery's eyes snapped wide open as her hand clutched at her chest. She couldn't remember having put it on, but she could now feel it against her skin as she pressed down harder than necessary. The rogue's hands went to her neck, finding the leather cord she'd replaced the original chain with after breaking it in anger. With a quick tug the amulet came out into the open, and then was removed.
Despite the tension of the situation they were in, Anders snorted and started struggling to stifle the giggles. That earned him a kick in the shin from Bethany, which in turn caused Aveline and Varric to start chuckling as well. Misery was so relieved that the thought of admonishing them didn't even cross her mind. Still on her knees, she simply held the amulet extended out in front of her.
Marethari stepped forward and accepted the amulet, then stepped back while beginning to appraise it. "Tell me how this burden fell to you, Child."
"Flemeth… the one you call Asha'bellanar… she rescued my family and my friend from darkspawn while we were trying to flee Ferelden from the Blight. She helped us escape in exchange for bringing the amulet to you."
Marethari nodded. "We left Ferelden because of the Blight as well. It has been a long, difficult journey, has it not?"
Bethany put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Keeper, when we arrived in Kirkwall we were forced into servitude to pay our way into the city. Only recently were we set free and able to fulfill our promise."
"There was no accusation in my question, Child. I honor you for coming to me."
The mage nodded apologetically. "The ones we spoke with earlier suggested that you were expecting us. Do you know Flemeth too? Do you know what this amulet is that allows her to haunt my sister's dreams?"
"Oh, I am tied to her much like you are, by a debt that must be repaid. The amulet… that is a promise, Child, made by one whose word still carries weight. And therefore it has terrible power."
There was an undercurrent of foreboding in the old keeper's tone as she added, "And I'm afraid your part in this is not yet over."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Misery asked softly. Her fear was already beginning to catch its second wind. She had no idea what the keeper's cryptic remarks about a promise, terrible power, and her not being done with this yet meant.
Marethari handed the amulet back. "You must take the amulet to an altar atop the mountain," she began, gesturing behind her. "There it is to be given a Dalish rite for the departed."
Misery looked up at her in bewilderment. "I don't understand. Why us? What would we know about performing a Dalish ritual?"
"I will send my First with you. She will see to it the ritual is done. Return the amulet to me afterwards and your debt will be repaid." Marethari intentionally left out that she was making them do it because she was unwilling to risk the lives of even more of her people if she could help it. She'd already lost too many hunters to the dark things up there.
"You will send your first what?" Misery asked, still confused.
"My apprentice," the elder woman clarified. "And when it is complete, I must ask that you take Merrill with you when you go."
Misery stood up slowly, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Keeper… I admit I don't know much about your people, but I do know that the Dalish have very little regard for humans. And that's not just from being surrounded by people ready to kill us if we breathe wrong. So… why would you trust one of your clan to my care?"
Bethany coughed nervously. "We don't mind of course," she added quickly, "I-I think what my sister means is that we don't understand exactly what it is you intend for us to do. Are we to take Merrill somewhere in particular? Will you need us to bring her back? Is there anything we should know about her?"
Marethari stood up even straighter. "In time, Merrill would have taken my place as keeper. But she has chosen a new path of her own. It is her wish, and I must grant it, as much as it grieves me to do so. Please guide her safely from here to Kirkwall. I believe she intends to stay among the city elves, so I would be thankful if you help her with that."
Misery nodded solemnly. Easy enough, Uncle Gamlen lives close to the alienage anyway. "It will be done. Where can we find Merrill?"
"Probably near the start of the path leading up the mountain," she answered, gesturing again behind her. "Dareth shiral."
Assuming that bit of elven was akin to saying 'goodbye' by the way Marethari turned away, Misery knelt back down and began repacking the stuff she'd previously dumped on the ground.
Before the keeper got too far, Varric spoke up. "Keeper?" When she glanced back, he continued, "How far up the mountain is that altar? What I mean is… how long do you think it will take for us to get to it from here?"
"Fenarel!" Marethari called out. A young male immediately jogged up to her. "How long does it take to reach the ancient altar?"
"A Dalish hunter could make it in three hours if no beasts were encountered along the way," Fenarel replied. Smirking, he added, "The shems should probably count on twice that." If they make it at all, he added smugly to himself.
"What are you thinking, Varric?" Aveline asked.
Varric shook his head slightly. "Hawke, I think we should wait until tomorrow and start the trek at daybreak."
"Absolutely not!" Misery exclaimed. "We go now."
Aveline looked over her friend and sighed. "Come on, Misery, you're exhausted and not thinking clearly as it is. And it doesn't sound like there's any way we'll make it there and back before nightfall."
Varric nodded his head vehemently. "And it'll be even colder up there than it has been along the way. You guys will be miserable up there after dark. Unless Blondie has something on under that robe besides his unmentionables, I'm the only one with anything warm on."
"Right…" Anders replied dryly, "With all that chest hair you might as well be wearing a rug."
"The duster buttons closed, you know," Varric said somewhat defensively. "Point remains."
Misery's shoulders slumped. "I-I can't… won't sleep anyway, even if we wait. I have to get this amulet out of my possession." She didn't realize it, but her eyes were practically pleading with her companions. "I will take it up there myself if I have to."
Marethari, still looking on, frowned slightly at the girl. She knew Asha'bellanar, and could guess at the torment this girl must have undergone. Even if she was willing to risk the girl and her companions so not to risk any more of her own people than necessary, the keeper still felt a small amount of sympathy. And she didn't want to see the girl fail. That would leave her having to send hunters to take the amulet to the altar anyway, since the rite was one of her own obligations to Asha'bellanar. She sighed.
"Give me the amulet," Marethari said. "I will keep it safe until dawn. That should satisfy Asha'bellanar."
When the rogue still appeared uncertain and didn't move, Bethany gently took the amulet from her hand and relayed it to the older woman. "Keeper," she began while handing off the amulet, "we don't wish to offend your people or impose on your hospitality. After we talk to Merrill, where can we set out our bedrolls and to make a small fire later in the day to cook over?"
Marethari smiled gently. "Thank you for asking, Child." She gestured to a corner of the camp near where the mountain trail they needed to take started. "You can make your camp over there. And you may talk to Master Ilen if you have need of supplies. For your own good I will remind you to continue being as respectful as you have been so far. Your need to be here will not make most of my people any more tolerant of your presence."
With that she nodded once and walked off. The crowd around them began to disperse, but it was made obvious that the unwelcome visitors were still being watched closely, regardless of the keeper having granted them permission to be here.
Misery gestured for the others to gather their weapons. "Let's go drop our gear where we're camping, and then I want to find Merrill."
-==0==-
Rounding a curve a short distance up from the trailhead, Misery caught sight of a female elf sitting up against a large rock, a soft glow emitted in front of her. She could tell this girl was fairly young, and guessed she was probably around Bethany's age.
At the sound of people approaching, the girl stopped what she was doing and quickly stood up to face them.
"Aneth ara!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Y-you startled me. You must be the one the keeper told me about."
Misery made a mental note of the staff leaning up against the rock. A mage, like the keeper. "That's us. Four shems, a mabari, and a Varric," she answered with a wry grin.
"And a Varric? I'm pretty sure I should feel insulted here," the dwarf groused playfully.
"She just means that you're a breed apart," Bethany quipped.
"Might as well make him an honorary shemlen like us," Anders added dryly. "Albeit a shorter one."
Varric tried to appear indignant, but even he could see the humor in it and began laughing with the others.
Merrill simply stared at the group in bewilderment.
The raven haired rogue gave a slight smile. "I'm Misery Hawke. You are Merrill? I was told you would help us with a Dalish rite."
Merrill blinked in surprise. "Misery? Oh, that's a… nice... name." Anders snorted in the background.
Misery couldn't help the smirk that formed. Yep, seeing people's reactions never gets old.
"I'm Merrill, though I… guess you already knew that," the elven maiden continued. "Oh! I didn't ask all of you your names! Unless… it's not rude to ask humans their names, is it? Or dwarves for that matter… Oh dear, I'm rambling… sorry…"
Varric shook his head, chuckling. "Relax, Daisy, no one here is going to bite you. Not even the dog… probably."
"Daisy?" Merrill asked in confusion.
"Don't mind Varric," Aveline explained, "he comes up with random nicknames for almost everyone."
"Random?" Varric asked in mock hurt. "Deep philosophical thought goes into them! What is this anyway, 'Pick on the Dwarf Day'?"
Aveline ignored him."I am Aveline. A pleasure to meet you, Merrill."
While the others introduced themselves, Revas began to sniff around the elf. The imposing mabari made Merrill even more nervous. He licked her hand, causing her to wonder if he was sampling how good she tasted.
"Ummm… Varric, was it? You were serious about the dog not biting, right?" she asked.
Misery grinned. "Revas, leave the poor girl alone." Meeting the elf's nervous gaze, she continued, "Don't mind him. Revas can be rather shameless in his attempts to get attention, but he's very friendly when we are not under attack. Assuming you don't plan to attack me at some point, he'll never hurt you."
Merrill looked at the girl curiously. "Oh, 'Revas'… that's an interesting name. I mean, it's interesting if you know what 'Revas' means in the elven language, of course. I suppose it wouldn't be so interesting otherwise. There I go rambling again… stop talking, Merrill."
"I do, actually," Misery answered, overlooking the girl's obvious nervousness. "I know it means freedom in the elven language, that's why I named him that. Freedom was something my father fought his whole life for, and he's the one who bought Revas for me."
Anders closed his eyes briefly at the explanation. She understands more than I ever expected she would.
Merrill tentatively patted the mabari on top of the head. "I have never actually met a dog before," she admitted.
"Wow, Hawke, how come you never told me that one before?" Varric asked. "You know I love a good story."
"You never asked about his name." Returning her attention to the elf, she explained more about her dog.
"Mabaris are an exceptionally intelligent breed, and Revas in particular comes from a lineage of champions. He can understand almost anything you say, and if you're around him long enough you'll probably start to understand him too."
Varric laughed while motioning to the dog. "Look at him! He's got his chest puffed out in pride!" The others laughed, while Revas refused to acknowledge them.
"Anyway," Bethany said, changing the subject, "we've decided it's too late to head up to the altar today, so we're camping out just back around the bend there. Why don't you join us?"
"J-join you?"
"I mean, if you want to of course. I know that your people are… uncomfortable with humans, but not all of us are bad. I just thought that since it sounds like you'll be with us for awhile both for the rite and then on the journey back to Kirkwall, you might want to start getting to know us."
Merrill frowned slightly. "I… I am not sure that's a good idea."
"Not a good idea to get to know us?" Varric asked.
The elf shook her head. "No, I am sorry, I did not mean it like that… that's not it. I am probably more curious about sh- humans… than most of my clan."
"Does it have something to do with why you are leaving the clan?" Bethany asked, noting the sadness in the girl's tone.
"Yes. Let's leave it at that for now, alright?"
Misery nodded. "Well, I am going to go see what Master Ilen has for sale or trade. You are welcome to join us, Merrill, but that's up to you. Either way, please be ready to leave at daybreak." She turned to walk away.
"Wait," Merrill requested. When Misery looked back, she could see the look of consternation on the elf's face, as if she was fighting an internal battle over what to do.
"I… will at least go with you to see Master Ilen," she finally said. "To make sure he gives you fair prices."
"Ahhh, reminds me of my brother," Varric remarked before laughing.
-==0==-
After deciding that it was probably for the best not to have the entire party descend on Master Ilen at the same time, Misery and Varric went with Merrill to see the Dalish craftsman while the others quietly set up camp.
Misery sold off the junk and equipment they'd salvaged from their encounters on the journey. Ilen didn't give her much for them, but she hadn't expected him to. Most of the gear was low quality anyway, and as Varric pointed out, Master Ilen probably only bought the stuff for the purpose of stripping or melting down for the raw materials. Still, coin was coin.
Perusing the master craftsman's wares, Misery's attention was drawn to a positively wicked looking dagger. It was double-bladed, with the hilt in the middle between the curved blades.
"How much for the dagger?" Varric asked, assuming Misery was at least considering buying it.
Ilen shrugged. "Two sovereigns." Inwardly he thought snidely about how typical it was of a shem to desire something shiny and impractical. The few dwarves he'd ever met were hardly any better. He'd made the stupid thing at the behest of one of the Dalish hunters, who carried it for barely a week before selling it back to him. He'd been stuck with it ever since.
Misery shook her head. "Nah, it's an interesting design, but not very useful. Gesturing to the blades and bow she already had on her person, she asked, "How would I even carry it?"
"Hmmm… I suppose the small of your back would be the only logical place, but it'd be hard to draw with your bow hanging down over it."
"Exactly. And it's not like I could put it in a sheath and attach it to my leg like a more traditional dagger."
Ilen raised an eyebrow curiously at the female proving him wrong about desiring the impractical weapon. However, he said nothing in response.
Misery picked up a far more mundane looking dagger from the table and inspected it. The visual appearance may have been lackluster, but the quality of the construction wasn't. "Varric, you should buy this one for yourself."
The dwarf looked up at her curiously. "What do I need a dagger for?"
"As an alternative in combat."
"You expect me to cheat on Bianca? Are you crazy?"
Misery sighed. "What are you going to do when Bianca jams up or outright breaks in the middle of a battle? You've got nothing to fall back on."
Varric's mouth dropped open in shock. "Bianca, close your ears, darling, you don't have to listen to her."
Merrill's eyes darted back and forth between the two. She could tell they were bickering, she just had no idea what they were bickering about.
"Varric," Misery said with more than a hint of exasperation, "what would you do if… to no fault of her own… Bianca was unable to fire in a battle?"
The dwarf leaned in close, like he was revealing a secret and didn't want anyone else to hear. "She's got a little surprise. A retractable bayonet," he whispered.
The female rogue rolled her eyes at the impracticality of relying on a bayonet on the end of a crossbow as anything more than a last ditch option, but decided to let the issue drop for now. She didn't have the energy to push back any further.
Looking around some more, Misery noticed a hooded cloak. It was dark green, as most of the elven wear was, with dark gray line patterns stitched into the outer material. She didn't know if there was any significance to the patterns, though they reminded her of the facial tattoos common to the Dalish. For the average elf the cloak was probably ankle to calf length. For her it'd be knee length.
Misery removed the cloak from the peg it hung from. She marveled at how lightweight it felt given its appearance. The interior was lined with velvet and had a couple of deep, strategically placed pockets.
The rogue knew Varric had a point earlier when he mentioned them not being adequately dressed for the mountains in late autumn. Not that she was going to admit that at the time. She'd been cold all morning traveling through the highly shaded forest, as well as the last couple of nights whenever she got away from the campfire for more than a few minutes.
"Master Ilen, how much for the cloak?" she finally asked.
The older man glared at her slightly. "Ten sovereigns."
Misery winced. That was way out of her price range. "If you don't mind me asking, why so much?"
Ilen's glare hardened further. "Dalish crafting is second to none," he answered smugly.
"Master Ilen?" Merrill asked, "How much would it be for me to buy it?"
He looked over at the young female curiously, not understanding why she was involving herself in this. "Five," he finally answered with a bit of reluctance. The two elves understood that he wasn't speaking literally. Most Dalish had little access to or use for the common coin, and transactions typically involved bartering one's service or expertise for a length of time equal to the value of the goods.
Merrill nodded and turned to Misery. "If you wish to buy it for five sovereigns I will make the purchase for you. I-I mean, you would have to give me the money to do so."
Ilen scowled. "I craft for the People, Merrill. Not for arrogant shems who think they can come take advantage of us!"
Misery fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he's trying to gouge me. At least he's honest about it. "Well, even five is too rich for me. I simply don't have that much coin to spend."
Varric nodded solemnly in agreement, not realizing that his companion interpreted the motion as him intimating that he had a say in what she spent her coin on, and as a result angered her. Before she could round on the dwarf, however, Ilen got her attention again by scoffing.
"I am not going any lower on an enchanted cloak, so you are out of luck then. Anything else?"
"Enchanted?" Misery asked curiously.
"You shems…" Ilen grumbled, "would not know quality if you were beaten over the head with it." Any of the Dalish would have known immediately that the cloak was enchanted.
When Misery simply continued staring in expectation of an explanation, Ilen sighed in exasperation. He took the cloak and held it stretched out off to his side. "You, Dwarf," he barked. "Take a shot at it with that contraption of yours."
Varric looked back and forth at Ilen and Misery before shrugging and pulling Bianca off his back. A quartet of elven warriors standing close by tensed up and the sounds of blades being unsheathed were immediate. Having heard the master craftsman, however, they stood at the ready while waiting to see what the dwarf would do.
"Ummm…. Varric? Please don't miss," Misery said in mild worry.
"Nothing to it, Hawke." From ten feet away he pulled the trigger, feeling Bianca kick as she turned loose a bolt.
To the shock of the two rogues, the bolt didn't rip right through the cloth. Instead, it glanced off harmlessly.
"Unbelievable…" Misery whispered in awe, reaching over and running her hand over the fabric. She didn't understand how it could be so soft and flexible yet repel a sharp projectile like that.
"Maybe to shems," Ilen replied, his own smugness shining through. "But a rock armor enchantment is child's play to a Dalish craftsman." He knew he was exaggerating, but the shem didn't know that.
Misery's mind was churning through scenarios in which she could acquire this cloak. She had to have it. Stealing was out, that much was obvious. And unfortunately, buying it appeared to be out as well.
Merrill spoke up. "Master Ilen, would you be open to bartering for it? Is there any task she can do for you in exchange for the cloak?"
"What could she possibly do that I would have any use for?"
Merrill thought for a moment. "I know you want ironbark and that our hunters haven't been able to reach the mountain's summit in some time. If she brings back a supply of ironbark, would that be a fair trade?"
Varric and Misery exchanged concerned glances at the mention of the Dalish not being able to get to the summit. That was new information they'd be asking Merrill and/or Marethari about very soon.
Ilen scoffed at the notion. "And you think she will succeed where our hunters have failed?"
Misery shrugged. "I don't have a choice. I have to go to the altar regardless. If you're saying we'll find ironbark atop the mountain as well, I can bring some back."
Ilen waved his hand, clearly ready to be done with this conversation. "Fine, bring back enough ironbark for a pair of daggers and a bow and I will give you the cloak for it."
"Deal," Misery agreed. She turned and began to walk off but didn't get far before she heard Merrill reproach the craftsman.
"Why do you set her up to fail?" she asked. "You didn't give her the Arulin'Holm!"
"If our hunters cannot reach the summit, neither can she. And you see what ignorant shems are like, they think they know everything, only to run off without knowledge of anything."
Misery pursed her lips in irritation. Having to simply take all of the insults without responding was trying what little patience she had.
Varric saw his companion's expression and stepped in. "What's an arulin-a-ma-jigger?"
Ilen pinched the bridge of his nose in visible annoyance. "Arulin'Holm," he stated sharply. "A Dalish carving tool sharp enough to cut ironbark. You will not harvest any significant amount of ironbark without it."
Merrill held out her hand expectantly. "I will bring it back to you when we return," she said simply. The elder male grumbled in elven while retrieving the tool. He fully expected to have to ask the keeper to send hunters up the mountain to recover it from her corpse. "Be careful how much faith you place in shems," he warned while handing her the Arulin'Holm.
"I could say the same about our people as well," she replied defiantly. Ilen threw up his hands in disgust and walked off.
Merrill turned back towards Misery, her face still bearing the appearance of bitterness. "I believe I will get my things and join you after all."
.
AN: I tried to give the Dalish some teeth here that aren't present in-game. Something I thought Bioware pretty much destroyed in DA2 was the mystique of the Dalish. I mean, despite what the one Dalish hunter says about you not knowing how many Dalish arrows you've got pointed at you, it never feels like there are more than maybe a dozen Dalish total (not to mention year after year it's the same people standing in the same spots saying the same things). And unlike DA:O, the DA2 Dalish camp is almost devoid of tents and common things you'd expect to see if they actually lived there.
Also, the DA lore makes it clear the Dalish are extremely distrustful of outsiders (especially humans) and often outright hostile. So to be able in DA2 to simply stroll into the camp and saunter right up to Marethari without any resistance to your presence just seems ridiculous to me.
My gut tells me the pacing is too slow here on the heels of the previous chapter, but I didn't want to just gloss over the Dalish as a whole in order to get to Merrill and then up the mountain. Next chapter should have a faster pace with some action though!