:(

They had just made it out of Denerim when the attack came. She had woken quickly, the roar of the Archdemon in her head. She heard Shale shouting something, and left her tent at a run, armor half latched, and her daggers shoved haphazardly in her belt. She notched an arrow in her bow and aimed it toward where Shale was, even as she saw the first of the ghouls pour into the camp.

Alistair had already run into the fray, having woken at the same time as her, for the same reasons, and she watched as the others emerged, woken by the noise, and struggling to wrap their minds around what was happening.

She loosed her arrows in a steady stream at the wave of darkspawn, and when they ran out she cursed and dove into the group, daggers flashing. She barely registered the clashing of weapons around her, focused on her task. She took note of Zevran off to her right, even as Sten yelled, and took out five of the monsters with one swipe of his large sword, to her left. Spells burst around her, and she felt a healing wave wash through her.

They pushed, tireless, and slowly managed to cut through the undead numbers. She was finally seeing an end to the fight when she sensed one behind her. She whirled around, her dagger flying up so she could bring it down in an arching sweep, and froze.

Tamlen.

Her daggers clattered from her suddenly numb hands.

She heard shouting, but ignored it as she stared at the ghoul in front of her. It was Tamlen, but wrong, off, a shadow of the self he had been.

But she knew his eyes. They were the same, a bright teal blue, deep and clear, and filled with confusion.

"You... lethallan..."

His voice was wrong. Like it had been in the Gauntlet, though not as booming. She recognized it though, even with the gravel that seemed to grate through it. She stuttered out his name.

He threw up a hand, roughly shoving her back. "Don't... don't come near me! Stay away!"

He turned and ran through the remnants of the battle. After only a second of hesitation she took off after him, shouting at the others to stand down as they turned towards the commotion. She followed him to a small outcrop of trees, found him huddled against one, his hands pressed over his now bald skull. She took it in, along with the decay darkened skin, and drew up just short of his reach.

"Tamlen..."

"Don't... look at me! I am...sick..."

She stepped closer, her hands ghosting just over his form, her eyes wide. He couldn't be like this, not him. "We can help you, Tamlen. Don't be afraid." She stooped towards him, aware of the others coming to stand a short distance away, and dropped her voice. "Let me help you..."

He shook his head roughly, and jerked away from her. "No help. No...help for me." He looked up at her then, his familiar eyes dark with pain. "The song... in my head. It... calls to me. He sings to me... I can't stop it!"

He gripped his head again, making a rough sound, a half scream as he sank more to the ground. When he looked up again his expression was pleading. "Don't want to hurt you, lethallan. Please...stop me..."

She was shaking her head even before he finished. The breath was caught in her throat, and she had to force her words out. "You can't ask me to kill you... I can't do that."

For just a moment, just a split second his expression was familiar, a wry smile in an amused face. "Emm'asha... who else... would I ask?" Then he was screaming again, his knees giving out completely, and fell to kneel in the dirt.

She dropped beside him, her hands fisting and unfisting as she watched him struggle. She should never have left when she did, she should not have taken their word that he was gone. She should have kept looking. Creators, she never should have let him go into that cave.

Making up her mind she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, curling herself around him in a useless gesture of comfort and protection. She ignored the odd slide of his flesh over whatever was below it, the smell of death that surrounded him, and dipped her head so her mouth rested next to his ear, her voice a whisper for him alone, or whatever was left of him in this broken shell. "I wish we had never found that cave. I wish we could have had the life we talked about. I wish I could save you. Na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Ma'arlath." She moved to kiss his cheek, even as she pulled the knife from her belt and slide it into his stomach. "I'll always love you."

He jerked against her, then relaxed, his voice flowing through her hair where his face still rested. "Always... loved you. I'm so sorry... emm'asha." His breath stilled and he slumped against her.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, the clearing oddly quiet, before she finally heard moving, and soft murmurs. She looked up only when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Alistair, his hooded gaze worried as he dropped into a crouch beside her. She let him help her lay the body on the ground, though she kept hunched over it. She simply stared down at the form, her eyes dry and aching, not bothering to look up when he spoke again. "Who... is he?"

"Tamlen."

"Tamlen." He sounded surprised, but quickly caught himself and laid a hand on her back. "Then... he was the one was with you when you..." His voice trailed off and she looked up, a faint nod as she offered a small, empty smile. "Yes."

In the distance she noticed Zevran, Sten, and the Dalish representative, Gamen if she remembered correctly, disappear into the forest.

"I'm so sorry. This is what happens when the taint is left unchecked... It... it's better for him, to have it end. It was a mercy."

She shifted her attention back to him for a moment, but instead of replying she merely turned back to the body, her shoulders hunching again.

His hand dropped away, and she heard him stand and leave. She heard more murmurs but shut them out, her fingers running lightly over Tamlen's armor, so well known, so familiar, and her eyes ached again.

She was running through the forest, her quiver slapping against her back, and the arrows in it jostling as she sprang across rocks and gaps. She had just slid down an embankment when there was a blur of to her side and she had the breath knocked out of her as it bore her to the ground in a tumbled flurry.

She let out breathless laughter as she tried to untangle herself, hands shoving and slapping at the weight above her. Another laugh joined hers, and a hand moved to shove the hair from her eyes so she could stare into the smiling face above her. "Is that how you are suppose to treat women?"

He sent her a shocked look, and raised a hand to grasp her chin and tilt her face back and forth. "Are you a woman? I wasn't sure." She shoved at him again, and he laughingly dropped a quick kiss on her nose. "It may not work with others, emm'asha, but I only need it to work with you."

She relented when he leaned down again to kiss her, a gentle brush of lips that had her smiling, and him biting back a groan. "You are too distracting." He pushed himself to his feet then grabbed her hand to help her up, taking a moment to kiss her again before moving to pick up their strewn weapons.

She watched him, a smile wide on her face. She had known him her whole life. Her earliest memories were of scrambling after him, up rocks, and through brush, while he laughed and called back at her, always older, always just a little faster, a little more agile. It had driven her crazy. But, finally, finally, they were on equal footing, She had completed her own hunt, she had become a hunter, an adult.

Finally, they had talked about them, about wanting to be together. Of course it had always been assumed, expected, but it had brightened something between them that they had put it into words. They planned on telling Marethari as soon as they returned, it needed to be announced to the clan. She knew Ashalle would want to know, she had hoped for it.

She shook her head and beamed at him when he brought her bow to her, and took an extra moment to lean up and kiss his cheek. He linked his hand with hers and they turned to make their way back to the village.

It was then that they heard the unmistakable sounds of others. A trampling that could only belong to Shemlen. Sending her a wink, Tamlen dropped her hand and pulled back out his bow. With a flick of his head he was off in the direction of the noise, leaving her no choice but to follow.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by a hand on her arm, this time belonging to Zevran. He stood next to her, Sten and Alistair just behind, holding folds of linen. She knew what they wanted to do, and she was suddenly grateful for their presence. She just had to make herself get up, let go of the remnants of her oldest friend.

She stood abruptly, her hand blindly groping for Zevran's and gripping it tightly. She had to do it quickly, couldn't let herself think on it. They stood side by side, no one talking as Sten and Alistair wrapped the body. Finally, they picked it up and carried it further into the clearing. She followed behind, tugging Zevran with her as she noted her companions arranged in a circle around a deep hole, a small sapling sitting to the side, and the others of their camp farther off, though equally as quiet.

Gamen must have told them about Dalish burial rights, and a lump caught in her throat at the thought. She came to stand by the hole, watching as they slowly lowered the shroud wrapped figure into it.

She dropped Zevran's hand and went to kneel at the edge, looking into its shadowed depths. She started talking without realizing it.

"Falon'Din, Lethanavir , friend to the dead. Guide his feet, calm his soul, and lead him to his rest. Keep him safe from the dread wolf, do not let him be taken." In her mind she continued while the others stood silently around her.

Mother, father, watch over him, guide him. He was a good friend to me.

"Falon'Din? You want to mark yourself for Falon'Din?" It was said on a laugh, Tamlen's mouth working a few times before he continued. "Why?"

She gave a shrug and poked a stick into the fire. "I meditated on it, it seems right. My parents are in his care, Tamlen. It makes sense that I stay on his good side."

"Falon'Din" he said again, more seriously. "Well I suppose even the dead need all the help they can get."

The memory came and went quickly, and she had a thought that her markings were becoming more and more appropriate the more people she lost or sent to their ends.

That thought, broke her.

The tears started slowly, gentle courses as she nodded to Sten to begin shoveling in dirt. By the time they were ready to place the tree it had developed into a steady weeping, and when it was done she was shaking with harsh sobs.

She knew she should not make such a display in front of the others. The ones who followed her, who relied on her to be strong, but she couldn't stop it. Couldn't stem the flow, wasn't sure she even wanted to.

She was vaguely away of being lifted into someone's arms, and carried into a tent. They settled, the arms shifting around her as she burrowed into a chest, legs curling into a lap. A hand brushed gently over her hair, and lips pressed to her ear, shaping meaningless, soothing sounds.

Zevran, she recognized the lilting voice, and the armor pressed under her cheek. She burrowed further in, trying, in vain, to disappear into him. He merely shifted and held her closer.

It was a long while before the crying stopped, and, exhausted, she fell into a fitful sleep.

Na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas: You're time is come. I am filled with sorrow.

Ma'arlath: I love you.