My heart is covered
With thoughts entangled
How could it ever have felt so real?
Is there a place more lonely than I feel within?
-Within Temptation- Caged
Chapter 18: The first cut is the deepest
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The water felt good on her skin.
Immediately after their return, Lenya went to the lake - which was fairly secluded from the rest of their camp. The moon had replaced the sun; its glowing light reflected softly in the water, illuminating everything around her in a delicate silver glow. It was soothing scenery in the night, a place detached from the rest, somehow like a dream. Everything else was distant at the moment; only the tranquility and her own, stable breathing was palpable to her. Her lips quivered when she had dived under the cold water once again. Lenya washed away the blood, the sweat, and the hectic feel of the day... but the memories remained. Memories of that elven ruin had been branded into her head and she wasn't capable of willing them away again - not since she had stared into the dark, hollow eyes of one of those monsters in Honnleath that day.
Memories were normally a wonderful thing; something you hold dear when looking back. In Lenya's case however, it was something frightening to face because it could shred her to tiny, little pieces inside, leaving her undone.
"How could walking corpses be here, Tamlen?"
"Well Lenya, Hahren Paivel once said that in places where many people died, it can become setheneran – a land of waking dreams. The Veil becomes weak and spirits slip into our world. Then they possess corpses and walk around…"
"Smart-ass."
Stirred by this remedy, the water splashed audibly as she vacillated within. Ironically, darkspawn didn't evoke such an emotional response from of her. There was just pure, unaltered hatred for them. The need to kill them - nothing more. But those walking corpses, the stench of death, those hollow eyes - it was still too achingly familiar. A reminder of the all too fresh past, of the biggest mistake of her life. One she had nearly paid for with her life, while Tamlen had to.
My fault, my fault, her mind chanted, and Lenya found herself bitterly agreeing on those thoughts. A freezing breeze gushed over her naked form, which shuddered in response, reminding her that it was time to get out of there quickly. Rivulets of water ran down her neck, and then her spine, as she darted up and waded through it to reach the side of the lake and her fresh clothing.
Arai's head tilted up as his mistress was coming closer and his stumpy tail was wagging in anticipation to receive her, after he had faithfully waited for her all the time. Much to his disappointment, Lenya didn't pay him much attention at all as she dried herself up and quickly got dressed. Her mind was just too occupied for that.
Captured in a rather complicated rush of emotions, she had too many problems to keep at bay or to even discern. One of those many feelings was certainly anger at herself, at her own stupidity. She had frozen in front of those creatures like a scared little girl, endangering not only her own life by doing so, but also that of her fellow Warden. Unwillingly, the images of his ragged breathing, the afflicted heavy steps, and the hand clutching onto his injured shoulder on their way back turned up in her mind again.
Lenya felt responsible for it, somehow.
Her tunic rustled softly as she pulled it over her head. Her movement was automatic while her mind was absent, in a far distant place. The elven woman couldn't grasp his motivation for what he had done and was not sure if she even wanted to know. All she knew was that she probably should do something for that idiot who'd saved her, if only to wash away a bit of the guilt that threatened to take over her being.
Lenya sighed.
Memories were indeed a tricky, twisted thing.
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.
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"Hold still, Alistair, we need to get rid of it for a proper treatment."
In the center of camp, Leliana did her best to remove the bloodied and makeshift pressure bandage from earlier, but the Warden just fidgeted too much around for it.
"Ouch, ouch." He knew that the bouncing up and down of him was complicating the whole process of getting a new bandage, but he couldn't help it. The sedative effect of the poultice was long gone – if there even had been any to start with – and now every tiny brush at his injury drove him insane. Another glare from Leliana made him finally hold still, although with difficulty.
Alistair laughed slightly. Some hero he was, first bravely jumping in to save the day, and now he was complaining about the consequences of his new, impulsive actions. Well, granted, not the consequences in whole… rather, the pesky, stinging pain that came along with it. Maybe he was just so sensitive about it because it had been so long since he had last had the unwanted taste of a blade within his flesh. His training in the Chantry had been rather controlled, after all, and Duncan mostly kept him out of the fights during his six months of being a Warden.
A luxury Alistair first never wanted and now didn't have anymore. He was one of the last remaining Grey Wardens fighting the Blight, after all. Every day would be a struggle of life and death now, so given what still could happen, the injury was a triviality, a little scratch. He should never forget that.
Also it would have far been worse had that particular blow hit the intended target...
The fire cackled and cracked softly not far from him, drawing his gaze hypnotically into the dancing flames. He swore to himself not to doubt the success of their mission, but surrounded by the stillness of the camp and his own vulnerability, it was simply too easy to be engulfed by the heaviness of the task. Alistair believed that Lenya would eventually be capable of achieving what settled in that stubborn head of hers, no matter the cost.
Truth be told, he wouldn't be surprised if she could drive the archdemon back into its dark, deep cave with one of her vicious glares alone. At that, the pictures of her confrontation with the much bigger Shale earlier came back to his mind, letting him smirk briefly. It appeared that she was adapting to the role of a leader better every day, or she was good in making it seem so.
Alistair didn't know for sure.
The young Warden was more uncertain what his role in all this would be, jumping in front of blades aside. It's not that he was anyone special – he was just a simple fool lucky enough to survive where all the others had to die instead.
He wished it could have been the other way around.
If he could have saved one of them... the king or even Duncan, then he would have happily taken the blow for them...
He flinched as a sharp biting pain rippled through his system, which put him out of his grim reverie. Alistair's eyes focused back in front of him, noticing that Leliana finally had removed the bandage, which had been strapped tightly around his shoulder before. As he looked down at himself, Alistair sighed. He was quite a sight; his splintmail armor was partly torn apart, tattered, and completely caked in blood and dirt. Some pieces of splint even hung loosely down against his body. All the hours of effort he previous made to patch it up again had seemingly been wasted ones.
Wow, super.
Leliana scrutinized his fairly deep flesh wound. "I'll get some water to boil it. We need to clean the wound." Oh that sounds like fun. "You may want to get rid of the armor in the meanwhile. It's battered anyway."
"I don't think we know each other well enough for th... – "
Her look silenced him. "Alistair, poultices are actually more effective when applied directly to a wound and not around the armor."
Alistair sighed and wearily rubbed his face with his right, still armored hand. "I know. I was joking."
Leliana's lip quirked up to a smirk. "Good to know you are still capable of jesting. According to your demeanor, one could assume it is a mortal wound."
"Hey, it's not the first time I've been injured like this," he protested. "... It has just been a while, you know?"
"Figured." Leliana snatched a little bucket up from the ground and vanished in the direction of the lake.
Alistair waited for a moment before he rose from the log, discarding his gloves to the side. As he finally stood upright, he turned around to begin the difficult task of peeling himself out of this...thing. Alistair used to love his splintmail armor, but how one should get out of it with only one functional arm due to a wounded shoulder was mysterious to him.
Well time to find out.
Gnashing his teeth together, he mostly used his right hand to undo the leathery straps at the side and tried to hold his shoulder still in the process. Of course, he was hardly successful in this, which made him hiss in pain and swear loudly as he bounced around, trying to get out of the demolished body armor.
Another turn followed, as the final strap didn't obey as wished. "Maker, you damn... stubborn... thing."
The sight amused Lenya. Since he hadn't noticed her arrival, she decided to watch his noisy 'armor dance' a while longer, one eyebrow raised. What an odd human he was...
"Need help?" Her tone was seeping with amusement.
Alistair jerked at the sudden, unexpected voice, the unthinking motion causing him another wave of pain. "Ouch, ahh. No, I'm perfectly fine," he hissed, his face and body away from her. As if it wasn't enough to have the giant Qunari staring in his direction, now even his fellow Warden joined Sten in his disapproving 'you are an-idiot' stare. Probably. He wouldn't turn around to find out.
"Yeah you totally look like that, puppy," Lenya retorted dryly and sighed. She stepped closer and loosened the last strap that held his armor together. One quick movement with his healthy arm was then enough to send the armor to the ground with a loud thud. Alistair inhaled deeply. Finally. Now the only awkward thing left to do was turn around and face her in his bloodied and sweaty tunic. Brilliant. And where was Leliana with the water anyway? He really could use some now.
The elf studied him for a moment, wondering why he was zoning out in the bleak night, face still away from her. "If this is a human way of playing hide and seek, it isn't working, I can say. I can still see you."
Despite himself, Alistair grinned."Ah, really? Too bad. And here I thought I'm Mr. Stealth, melting into the shadows or something like that."
"No, you are Mr. Obvious." He heard her saying, followed by an exasperated sigh but it also had a hint of amusement in it.
So,little Miss Grumpy Girld is absent right now? Interesting.
Slowly, Alistair turned around again and was temporarily bewildered at the sight. In front of him didn't stand the armored, fierce, and blood-smeared Dalish woman he used to know. Quite the opposite. She apparently took a bath; her blond hair was still wet and casually hung down around her face, framing it. Instead of armor and her weapons, she only wore simple clothes of dark linen, which were a bit too large for her small figure.
An unusual picture indeed...
Lenya waited a moment for him to say something, but he seemed to have spaced out again. Which appeared to be one of his favorite things to do, along with running in front of blades. Idiot. "You are an odd human," she scoffed and rolled her eyes.
He laughed at that. "And you are not the first to say that." Alistair noticed the mortar and pestle she was carrying in one of her hands and pointed at it. "What's this? Already time for dinner? You are too good to me."
She yanked the vessel away from him. "This isn't for eating, you idiot. Though it might be funny if..."
"Oh, Lenya, hello." Instead to finishing her sentence, the elf let out a groan at Leliana's appearance. The woman put the bucket down, choosing to ignore the elf's behavior. "Is your injury okay?"
"Yes. I can take care of that myself." The elf's snappy tone caused not only Leliana to flinch. If there has been any doubt of her dislike of the redheaded woman left, Lenya had successfully convinced Alistair otherwise now. This was all the more so for Leliana, who appeared momentarily speechless at the blatant animosity displayed towards her.
Heedless of her reaction, Lenya's gaze wandered down to the bucket. "Oh, you brought water, just what I needed. Good. Now go away."
Leliana only gaped at her, utterly bewildered. "Why- I - " For a moment she lingered and pondered whether to argue or not. Her sigh signaled that she had decided not to. "Fine. Have it your way."
Alistair didn't know what expression he made as he watched Leliana disappear to her tent, but he was sure it wasn't his most clever one. Confounded, he observed how the Dalish woman heaved the bucket up. "W-what are you going to do with the water?"
Lenya glanced up. "Pouring it over you if you don't stop asking dumb questions, that is."
Instead of fulfilling this threat, the elf poured a great amount of the water in a clean pot and put it near the fire to let it steam. Satisfied with her work, she took half of the greenish, herbal paste out of the vessel and threw it in the pot. Almost instantly the air nearby was filled with a sickish odor of tart moss and something... dead. It was atrocious. Alistair could only compare the scent to how the undead had smelled that day. Not really a flattering compliment for her cooking skills. If it was cooking that she was doing, however.
He pointed at the pot. "That reeks." Having sniffed the air, Arai quickly left Lenya's side and fled to the other side of the camp. Unintentionally, the Mabari had emphasized Alistair's words in a comical way.
Lenya's lip quirked slightly up. "Well, fitting for you then."
Ouch. Another wound to his pride. She was really good at this, he had to admit. "You are right," he said and pouted. "I really don't want to eat that."
"And you shouldn't, either. It's fairly poisonous when ingested. Nevertheless it's a good medicine to disinfectant wounds. Unless you swallow it, that is." Gingerly, she squatted down near the pot, waiting for it to steam. After a second or two, she looked up to him. "Now get off with that grimy shirt. I'm not touching that... thing."
Temporarily, the situation was too much for Alistair's brain to grasp, so it fried and left him unable to stammer anything but incoherent words. "You want to... that I... that you..."
Lenya sighed and suppressed the urge to throw the vessel with the other half of the herbs onto his head. It would have been a waste after she went through the trouble of creating the paste out of her remaining herbs. Instead, she only threw him a glare, knowing that it would silence his idiotic babbling. "Do I have to repeat myself?"
"No, no I heard you," he eagerly chipped in while blinking, confused. It's just so grotesque that she wants to help me. Alistair felt awkward as he eventually pulled the bloodied tunic over his head, aware of the fact that he stood half-naked in front of his fellow Warden. His female fellow Warden. Fortunately, his aching shoulder reminded him that the reasons were all but romantic ones. He watched her standing up and vanishing into her tent.
"Now that is funny, leaving me stan..." Before he could finish his sentence, the elf reappeared with a fairly sized, white linen cloth in her hands.
"What is funny?"
My idiocy. "Nothing. I- I... you don't have to do this."
She didn't answer at first; rather, she concentrated on ripping the linen cloth in two pieces. After finishing this, she put the smaller fabric in the now boiling herbal water. "I know."
Alistair didn't know what to say on that, so he observed her in silence. It really looked like she knew what she was doing, as if she had done it many times before. He wondered if the Dalish had done the same for the people in her clan when they were injured. Subconsciously, his breath caught as she came close to him, the steaming, wet cloth in her hands.
"This might burn a bit now," she murmured in an almost apologetic tone, "... but it has to, in order to disinfect the wound." Lenya scrutinized the flesh wound on the side of his shoulder for a moment. It was fairly visible where the dagger had stuck despite his armor. If that blow would have hit her...
She halted in her movements, glancing up to him. "Why?"
The Warden blinked, confused as her questioning eyes met his. "Huh? What do you mean?"
"Why did you do this? I don't understand." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Alistair smiled warmly. "Well... we are fellow Grey Wardens, are we not? We have to take care of each other." Oh great, Alistair. Hurray for a cheesy line like that. He half awaited the snarky comment that she could take care of herself... but it didn't come.
Instead she only lowered her gaze again. "I see." For a moment, the elf stirred and tensed. It looked to him as if she was contemplating something back and forth.
Unbeknownst to him was the fact that Lenya really needed a moment to stomach his answer. She had expected every kind of stupid comment from his lips, perhaps even a lame joke. Though instead of doing so, he said something like that. It was... surprising, if not also confounding, to hear this kind of a sentence coming from his lips. Lenya took a deep breath to gather her thoughts again, before she eventually stepped closer to him and begin to wash his wound clean with the herbal water.
Lenya didn't lie. It burned. That was, however, not a strong enough word to describe it, as Alistair felt the urge to wince and wail. Liquid fire in my veins would be more appropriate, he thought, yet did his best to not show it. The pain accelerated his breathing and under the heady stench of the herbs he could discern another, faint scent. Soap, mixed with the smoke of the firewood maybe.
It wasn't unpleasant.
Alistair soon realized that it was her smell and held his breath. She was standing so close to him now, that he even could see the freckles around her nose when he looked down. Maker he hadn't even known that she had freckles. And at the right cheek she even had a faint scar, and he couldn't help but wonder where she had gotten that. Catching himself staring at the finer lines of her concentrated face, Alistair quickly averted his eyes in another direction and gulped hard. Awkward...
Lenya didn't regard him further, as she cautiously disinfected the wound. It was not the first time she had done something like that, so the dried blood and the wound itself didn't disgust her. It was just the first time she was doing it for a human. The difference was quite noticeable to her, however. He was big and bulky – muscular even – while the hunters she had treated were all lean and naturally smaller.
Humans are indeed... odd.
Alistair started to shift his weight from one foot to the other as the silence stretched further. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the long pause, he started to talk. "So how come you are so adept in these herbal things?"
It was not the most intelligent question, which she expressed immediately with her sardonic look. "Is this a serious question? Or are you just being an idiot again?"
He grinned slightly. "I think I'm losing here if I say 'take your pick.' So yeah, truth is, I'm curious. Didn't mean to offend you, though."
"Okay," the elf sighed resignedly. "I will tell you, although I doubt you will understand. We Dalish..." She paused to swallow down the pang of homesickness she felt. "… are responsible for each other. Each member of my clan is an important and substantial part of our community. Only together we can function as a clan. That is not the reason I learned this, however, but it is helpful for all the little scratches and injuries where healing magic isn't needed. And Dalish hunters get scratched quite a lot..." Lenya looked down and smiled wistfully. More for the fact that she was repeating Hahren Paivel's preaching, which she had hated so much before, and now reveled fondly in the memory of his words. She bit down the tears. They weren't fond memories, however.
Thinking on her clan was bound to hurt.
Alistair was baffled to hear her actually talking about her clan. She never had done that before and, seeing her sad expression in the flickering light of the fire, he quite understood why. Or assumed to know. "No, I think I... understand. I'm sorry, Lenya. You must miss them a great deal." His tone was soft and compassionate.
She took an audible intake of air; the bloodied cloth of linen suddenly fell out of her hand to the ground. For a brief moment, she believed that she would follow the cloth to the ground; that she would also sink into dust. And for the same amount of time, she wanted to. Lenya felt mellow, her treacherous knees shook as she tried to gather the myriads of emotions into a whole, stable one.
She failed.
Stupid, stupid human.
Irrational anger seethed up in her.
Why must he say all those things?
The things that let her remember of what she had had once. Of what she had lost.
Lenya didn't want to remember that.
Her hands balled to a fist as she glared up at him. "Don't act as if you would know me, human," she spat, her voice shaking. She would not cry. Never.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," he replied, actually shocked by her intense reaction. Lenya didn't answer; instead she squatted down to pick the cloth up again. And on the way down, herself too.
"You haven't." The Dalish took a deep breath, while she threw the dirtied piece of linen into the fire. It smoldered away with a hiss. "So, where do you have the poultice?" Her voice was even again, her face an unreadable mask.
"Here." Bewildered of her sudden mood swing, Alistair handed her the bandage. He looked at her intensively, sympathy and sadness evident in his expression. I know how you feel, he wanted to say. I have also lost everything. But he decided against it and kept it to himself.
"You may want to sit down."
Her business-like voice startled him a bit. "Why?"
"Because this will hurt now. Until the sedative effect of the herbs kicks in, that is. They will also support the wound healing but, directly applied, it will burn like fire first."
"Sound like fun, really." Alistair shrugged and simultaneously regretted this unthinking motion. At least the pain kicked him out of his wistful mood. He sat down, watching her take the rest of the green, stinky paste and apply it directly to his shoulder then. Immediately, his mind went blank as a storm of fire rushed through his body, taking his breath away.
Lenya stopped and looked at him, somewhat sympathetic. She knew how much it hurt and didn't envy him right now. "Only a moment longer."
Alistair waited for the burning to stop and, after a bit, it finally did. He sighed, appeased. "Wow, the pain is indeed gone now. And not only the burning pain, I mean. Thank you."
"Mhm," Lenya only hummed and started to wrap the bandage tightly around his shoulder. "You will need to rest your shoulder for a few days. So no fighting."
He nodded. "Understood. Well then let us just hope the darkspawn will also be so considerate." Alistair bit his lip. "I'm sorry that I'll delay our journey, though."
The elf couldn't believe that he was actually sorry for getting injured. An injury that should have been hers in the first place. "Now, that is just stupid, puppy. I need you at full strength, so stop being so noisy about it."
That made him smile. Lenya's concern wasn't visible at first glance and her words appeared somewhat rude, but the careful way she was tending his wound told him otherwise. And this was worth more than a simple thank you from her lips. "Okay, I suppose we need to restock our supplies anyway..." His smile morphed to a smug one. "... with you having eaten everything we had and so on."
Lenya scoffed. "I hate this. Blame the damn taint for it, not me, puppy."
Alistair glanced up to her and observed the pattern of the tattoo on her forehead. "Don't worry it will get better in time. Anyway... why have you given me such a ridiculous nickname?"
"Because you are a big stupid puppy. Always barking, always noisy, that is."
Her deadpanned way in expressing it caused him to laugh. "Charming indeed, my lady. Yet better than being a big stupid cat, eh? What is this about? You slay darkspawn without to blink but are afraid of cats? Really, Lenya?" Even now, that fact seemed weird to him; nevertheless, it amused him greatly.
Another thing she didn't want to be reminded of, and yet he was shamelessly asking about it. Must be a talent or something, Lenya thought, annoyed, and subconsciously pulled the bandage a bit tighter than needed. "I'm not afraid of cats, actually. I just hate them."
Alistair tilted his head. "Hmm… okay, but why? They are harmless animals, really. You know in fact, I once had a very large cat when I was a boy..."
"They aren't harmless; they are evil," Lenya rushed to chip in.
Alistair chuckled. "Now you sound like Shale, only with cats, that is. Buuut I get your point, I think. I thought the same of my cat when we were diverting the food in the stable. That thug often ran away with my ration when I wasn't paying attention for a moment. No wonder he became so large within a short time." He sighed, momentarily sunken in the memory. "Good times. Still, you haven't answered my question."
"Now you are prying and annoying. That really is a talent of yours, huh?" She seemed a bit vexed.
"Okay, okay… figured," the Warden said and raised his healthy hand in defense. "Little miss grumpy girld reared her head again. You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."
"Good, I don't want to." Lenya glowered at him for a moment before eventually fastening the bandage with a few, ably knots. "I think we are finally done, fortunately. Which is good because I'm really tired... If you'll excuse me now, I have an appointment with darkspawn in my dreams. Ugh." The elf grimaced and turned on her heel.
He snickered, amused by her sudden rush to get away from him. "Well then, say hi to them for me."
Oh, back to lame jokes, are we? Lenya groaned and answered without to turn around. "Do it yourself."
"Oh, right, I have nearly forgotten that... Lenya?" he called after her, causing her to stop her pace, even if only reluctantly.
"What now?" Being away from the camp's fireplace, she was almost completely enveloped by the shadows of the night.
Alistair looked down at himself, admiring briefly the clean and good work she had made with the bandage. "That was unex–" He cleared his throat."... I mean, thank you for your help."
"No, ma serannas... I thank you, Alistair." Lenya murmured quietly and turned again to go to her tent, leaving a very perplexed Warden behind.
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.
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"Elf!"
Before Lenya could actually slip into her tent, the huge form of the Qunari stepped in the way, his expression stony.
"Sten." The elf sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She was tired and not truly in the mood for any kind of conversation anymore, yet asked nevertheless. Playing the nice and friendly leader, that is. Ugh. "What do you want?"
"I don't understand. You look like a woman." His dark eyes stared down at her in confusion.
Her shoulders sagged in resignation. She neither wanted to know why that giant was asking such an utterly moronic question nor actually answer it. Yet, given Sten's stoic demeanor, she was aware that she had no other choice. "Oh, is that so? What gave that away, I wonder?"
"You fight. So it followed that you can't be a woman."
Lenya blinked, feeling very much dumbfounded, and hoped in the corner of her mind that he was actually joking. He simply had to, although it would be the lamest joke ever. She observed his expression, wanting to find a hint of jest in those hard facial features but was appalled to see that the Qunari was dead-serious. Just wonderful... "So, news to you then. I'm a woman and I fight. Obviously."
"One of the things can't be true. Women are shopkeepers, priests, artisans or farmers. They don't fight."
Her confusion shifted quickly into irritation. In fact, she was on the brink of snapping, heedless of the stronger and much taller man in front of her.
Breathe, Lenya, breathe... The Dalish tried to calm herself but it was for naught as her temper won over. "If you want to imply that I have to sit crying in a corner and wait for some man to save me just because I'm a woman, forget it!" She glared up at him in defiance, breathing heavily. "It is not my fault, Sten that your sight is too narrow-minded to recognize that I was raised and trained my whole life to be able to fight. If you have a problem with it... well, there is the entrance to the camp…" Lenya pointed her finger into the darkness "... use it the other way around!" Her lower lip was the only part of her that was moving, trembling, while she remained frozen in front of him, her posture a wholy threatening one.
The elf felt deeply offended by the Qunari's words. In her clan, all Dalish women were able to fight. It was as natural as breathing. So in her view, it was an insult not only to herself but to her culture as a whole. Lenya happened to like Sten's calm, sturdy nature, actually, but this had really pissed her off.
Sten stared silently down at her for a moment, trying to make sense of the many words the elf had yelled at him. It only confounded him more. "So you must be different then? You don't look different to me. You are an elf. The size of your hand, whether you are clever or foolish, the color of your hair or the land you came from. These are things beyond your control. We don't choose, we simply are. So how should it possible for you to choose what you aren't? I don't understand."
Observing him a moment longer, she recognized a genuine confusion in the otherwise so steely gaze, which fitted his words. Eventually, this perception made it back to her with a sigh. Sten didn't want to insult her; he really just didn't understand. Lenya often forgot that he was used to a whole different culture and foreign to this world. Just like her and yet so... disparate.
"Sten," she took a deep breath, "a person can choose who he wants to be. I am a woman, and I fight. It's truly that simple."
"Is it?" the qunari scoffed, still not trusting her words wholly. "We will see." For a moment, it looked like Sten would step out her way but he halted. "So how do you want to defeat the darkspawn?"
Wait, more questions? It's not that she valued Alistair's company much, but right then, Lenya regretted ever having left the fireplace. The human was far less annoying than Sten at that moment, which was indeed a frightening revelation for her. "And here I thought I could go to my tent to rest for a hour or two... Silly me."
Sten ignored her annoyed comment and tone. "If you are the leader like you claim to be, you have to know."
"I didn't clai– " Lenya stopped herself before she could reveal her aversion against the idea of herself leading. "Sten, can we discuss that another time? Like tomorrow?" Her tone was weary, just like she suddenly felt inside – utterly exhausted and… empty.
"More procrastination? That seems to be a virtue of yours. You need a plan. Lingering and hiding in the camp won't stop the Blight. So far, I'm not impressed."
"I'm not here to impress you." She had had enough now. Lenya only wanted to vanish into the protecting darkness of the night, into her tent. So she slipped past his massive stature to her tent, the urge to be alone growing bigger with every step.
Sten didn't hinder her getting away; he only briefly asked himself what to make of this strange, little person. Whether she was a fool or it was a quality of the Grey Warden he hadn't yet heard about, the qunari couldn't say.
Time would tell.
With a dismissive grunt the berassad soldier returned to his patrolling routine.
.
.
.
Finally alone.
Lenya let out a heartfelt sigh as she sunk down on her bedroll, embraced by the darkness and security of her tent. Except for a few scattered snippets of different voices and words afar, tranquility claimed her being. Her heart felt heavy, like a massive stone in her chest. The downside of being alone and lying in the darkness were those unwanted pictures and fragments of memories she so desperately kept in check before that threatened to break free again. The elf squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that sleep would wash away her thoughts with a wave of oblivion.
"I'm sorry. You must miss them a great deal..."
Stop it. Stupid human. Lenya rolled around and pressed her face into the bedroll, as if this motion could keep the pictures and snippets of words out of her mind. The elf didn't dare to move anymore, only breathing as much as needed in the vain attempt to keep the anguish at bay and distant.
"You need a plan. Lingering and hiding in the camp won't stop the Blight."
She was no leader; she'd only been shoved and pressed into the role that wasn't her's. Probably never would be. She didn't want that kind of responsibility… had no idea where to go next. Nevertheless, Lenya knew that she had to stay strong, even if the enormous task stole her ability to breathe, oppressing her. Even if she missed each and every single person of her clan and her old life with every fiber of her being, she couldn't cry, had to keep the facade up. Never submit. Maybe it was foolish pride to fight the feelings stirring within, feelings that wanted to make her weak, shattering her. Lenya couldn't allow that to happen. What else was left for her in a world that wasn't her own than to cling onto her pride? Onto a known pattern of a life long lost? A life she missed dearly?
"Well... we are fellow Grey Wardens, are we not? We have to take care of each other."
Those words again in her mind. Lenya didn't trust them, didn't even want to give in to the illusion of them being the truth. In the cold world outside of her clan, she knew she could only trust herself. Distrust she was taught all her life.
Known pattern.
It helped to avoid falling apart completely.
Motionless, she lay in the darkness and waited. For the first time since having those dreams, she wished for the darkspawn to intrude on her mind. At least those would keep her mind occupied and numb the other, even more unwanted pictures.
Lenya didn't know how long she lingered before finally drifting into the much-wanted slumber. Though, as she did, the soft giggling of a young girl rang in her ear. Soon the elf recognized that it was her own voice, as she watched a piece of her own life like a bizarre intruder...
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"Lenya, you can play in the wood glade but only where we can see you. And don't eat any berries just because they look tasty." Ashalle watched fondly after the little girl who stormed away, her long blond hair almost swaying in sync with her tripping steps.
Another elven woman came close, observing the little girl in her delighted chase after a butterfly."Isn't she adorable? Her father would have been so proud of her. It's really tragic what happened to him… to our keeper."
"Yes, indeed," Ashalle murmured absently, then turned her head to the Dalish woman from her clan. "I'm just glad she doesn't know. It should stay this way."
Lenya was happy. The sun finally broke through the thick rain clouds and she was allowed to play alone in the wood glade. Like the big girl she already was.
"Butterfly, Butterfly," she sung and followed its unsteady, fluttering path with her eyes, hopping up and down. Suddenly the insect made a turn; its yellow wings carried it deeper into the woods. Without a second thought, the little girl ran after it, the dry branches on the ground faintly crackling under her light steps.
Lenya followed it and saw it land on the hollow trunk of a tree near a massive, towering, green-leafed oak. She decided to inch a bit closer, so she could observe it. Lenya loved butterflies after all.
Gingerly, the girl sneaked closer to the trunk… how a grown up hunter showed her, always afraid of scaring it away. Proud of herself, she squatted down after she managed to come closer and was gazing at the delicate, yellow wings of it. Bound to the curiosity of wanting to know how it felt to touch those, the young girl reached her hand out to the butterfly. Just a moment later, she saw how that motion made him fly away. It drifted high up into the sky and passed the coppice of the wood until it was gone.
She pouted as her big, green eyes followed the insect on its way to the sky. Now she didn't have anyone to play with and Ashalle was still busy with boring, grown-up things she didn't understand. A rustling of branches let her eyes dart in the direction she heard the surprising noise in the otherwise quiet and peaceful forest.
Lenya startled. Two yellow eyes of a strange animal were staring directly at her. She knew a lot of animals but never had she seen such a creature before. With a mixture of curiosity and fear, she slowly inched closer to observe it; the animal didn't back away. It wasn't huge; it had black velvety fur, two little pointy ears and a tail. Aside from its gleaming yellow eyes, Lenya thought that it was an animal she didn't have to be afraid of. Unlike the wolves, which looked a bit similar and yet so... different. She could feel her heart beating with excitement as she was really close to the calmly waiting animal. Lenya bowed down to it and mimicked its comical way of standing on all fours, heedless of the still moist earth. She inched closer, tilted her head, and smiled into the eyes of the animal.
"Will you be my friend? You look nice."
One hand reached out to touch its soft fur, but before she could even touch it, the creature swiped with its paw and scratched her across the cheek with its sharp claw. Then it stormed away, snarling, into the coppice. Lenya fell backward. Shocked, she touched her right cheek and noticed it was bleeding.
Burning and bleeding.
Tears welled into her eyes and ran down her face, which only made the deep scratch burn more. Still sitting on the ground, she started to sob bitterly. She should have never run so deep into the wood glade. 'Now Ashalle will be mad with me for running away...' Lenya thought, '...and won't love me anymore.' Another sob rippled through her throat and tears were flowing fluently now. 'No one ever wants to play with me.'
She didn't know for how long she sat there and cried, as she suddenly heard a boyish voice.
"What are you doing here?"
Lenya wanted to look up to him, but tears were blinding her eyes, so she couldn't see to whom the voice belonged. "There... there... w-was an evil anim... animal..." the little girl tried to explain between the sobs, still covering her face.
"You mean the black one?" She only nodded.
"It is called cat. I have seen it here a few times. The keeper said that there are sometimes animals of the shemlen strolling around in the forest. It probably ran away from them." He looked down and frowned. "Hey, you are bleeding?" The boy rummaged in his pocket and put a slight dirtied handkerchief forward. He bowed down to the still crying girl. "Take this."
Lenya stopped crying and wiped the tears and blood off of her face with it. Now she could finally see the owner of the voice. It was a young boy, only a bit taller than he,r and he had short, tousled, ash-blond hair. Lenya knew him. He was one of her clan, but she always thought he was stupid and had ignored him because he was a boy. Every girl knew that boys were dumb... though maybe she had been wrong.
"Ma serannas." The girl winced as she pressed the cloth on the scratch. She didn't like cats, not at all... but the boy seemed to be nice. "What is your name?"
"Tamlen. I'm already six years old and will be a great hunter one day. That is why I was hunting animals here," he declared proudly and helped her up. "I know you a bit... but I don't know your name."
"I'm Lenya," she sniffled, "... and four years old but I'm already a big girl. Ashalle said that."
"Lenya? That is a nice name..."
She smiled and ignored her burning and bleeding cheek. Suddenly, it wasn't that bad anymore. "Will you be my friend?"
Tamlen smiled back and reached her his hand. "Let's go back."
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Lenya choked up, surrounded by complete darkness in her tent. Terrified of the dream she had, she touched her right cheek where the cat had scratched her so long ago.
It was wet with tears.
Startled by her reaction and the haunting memories, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to compose herself again – but failed. The more she fought against it, the more tears started to fall, and there was nothing she could do about it. Eventually, powerless against all the emotions, Lenya gave up and buried her face in the bedroll.
And for the first time in weeks – after she had lost it all – she cried.