"Aren't you going to help her?" Leliana asked curiously, nudging her head to a side.

Tamlen raised his attention from what was left of his second helping of breakfast and stared at the shemlen bard in bewilderment. Then, after a moment without a reply, he turned to where the woman had indicated.

Ayale was sitting quietly by herself with a small fire not too far from her. She was fiddling with her hair, trying to cut it with the knife he had given her the previous night. However, she seemed to be struggling to figure out the right length she wanted and how to cut her hair without taking off her fingertips. If she was getting frustrated, he couldn't sense it.

Swallowing the urge to smile proudly at the knowledge that Ayale really was using his poorly crafted knife, he looked back at Leliana, who was watching him expectantly.

"Don't bother Leliana," he stated factually. "After spending thirty years with her, do you really think I can't tell when someone is trying to vir shemlath?"

"Vir what?" Leliana asked confusedly.

"Vir shemlath," he repeated. "I believe you'd call it 'playing matchmaker'."

Leliana stared at him in shock, her mouth open slightly. The look in her eyes clearly showed that she hadn't expected him to have figured out her motives, at least so soon. A look of realisation suddenly crossed the woman's face and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" she accused.

"And your point is?" he shot back with a shrug of his shoulders.

"If you knew on the mountaintop what I was doing... why do you still do what I suggested?" she asked.

"It was a good idea," he muttered quietly, and he was certain the shemlen hadn't heard him properly.

"Okay..." Leliana nodded. "Then why aren't you going over to help her?"

"She can cut her hair without my help, Leliana," he sternly informed the persistent woman. "Besides, give her a moment and she'll figure out how best to use the knife."

Sure enough, as Tamlen looked back to his clanmate, he saw that she was swiftly and confidently swiping at her hair and discarding the cut locks into her small fire. He watched her for a while, trying to identify her strategy. It seemed to him that she was using her thumb as a measurement, pinched her hair after that point, and then cut. Needless to say, it was going to take a while for her to finish.

Then, as if feeling his gaze on her, Ayale paused in task and purposefully looked at him. She flashed him a smile before returning to her task.

"She really likes you, you know," Leliana stated factually.

Tamlen turned back to the shemlen, giving her a distinctive look. She seemed to take his silent warning and didn't continue. Instead, she glanced back at Ayale before walking away to join Zevran in the hastily erected duelling ring. The bard was still struggling with two daggers in close combat and the flat-ear had offered to assist.

Tamlen didn't want to know what the assassin wanted in return.

After a moment's peace, he felt the ground rumble slightly. He instantly recognised it as the approaching footsteps of the camp's largest member: the golem, Shale. He had no idea what he'd done to offend the creature, but it was adamant about trying to anger him, and today seemed no different.

"I have a question for the ghoul elf," it stated loudly.

All movement in the camp froze in shock and an uneasy silence fell upon camp. Everyone in the vicinity exchanged glances between Tamlen and Shale, even Morrigan had approached the main camp to witness the conversation. Tamlen had the added bonus of sensing Ayale's shock and anger, which she promptly suppressed from the taint. He noticed the outrage in his clanmate's face and the disapproval in everyone else's expression.

Shale had called him 'ghoul elf' before, though not in front of everyone else and certainly not in front of Ayale. He had ignored the jibe before, but now he didn't have a choice but to respond.

After chewing his lip slightly to rein in his flaring temper at the name, he calmly breathed in and turned around to look at Shale. The golem was staring impassively at him, waiting for a response.

"Is that aimed at me?" he asked rhetorically. "I have a name you know... It's Tamlen."

"Am I correct in saying that the ghoul elf, like the painted elf, has tried to kill the Grey Warden? And yet, it has not been crushed," Shale continued, ignoring Tamlen's remark.

"Under normal circumstances, I would never do anything to harm her. Lethallan knows this," Tamlen noted. "That night, I... wasn't in exactly the right frame of mind."

"Obviously," Shale huffed. "But how is it to know that it won't make such an attempt again?"

Tamlen bit his lip thoughtfully, thinking through everything his clanmate had told him throughout their journey. His mind raced through everything that she had said about the golem, as well as the quips that Alistair or Leliana would occasionally add into their conversations. Then, he found an explanation that he felt the golem would understand.

"You were stuck in a small village, right?" Tamlen inquired calmly. "Unable to move?"

"It is correct," Shale replied. "I was frozen as a statue for thirty years."

"But you can move now," he observed.

"I was freed by use of my control rod," Shale stated.

"What happened to this rod?" Tamlen asked interestedly.

"Why does the ghoul elf ask such things?" Shale demanded irritably. "Surely it knows the answer already, and it does not answer my own question."

"Answer me, and I'll give you the connection," Tamlen assured.

There was a flicker of movement at the edge of Tamlen's eye, but he ignored it. He knew that Ayale was looking at him; he could sense her curiosity through the taint, and her rising amusement. Clearly, she could see where he was leading Shale, and was finding the comparison funny.

"What happened to the rod?" Tamlen repeated.

"It no longer functions," Shale replied tartly.

"And neither does mine," Tamlen explained.

Deciding that he would finish the conversation, he looked back down to the remains of his meal. He refused to look up as Shale walked off, obviously pondering his words. He did not, however, believe that that would be the last conversation between them.

"Tamlen?" Ayale's voice echoed slightly in his mind.

Tamlen looked up in surprise. He saw that she had returned to cutting her hair. However, she was watching him intently, her expression full of concern. Realising that she wanted to talk to him, he stood up and slowly made his way to join her. He sat by her fire, maintaining a small, respectful distance away from her.

"Has Shale called you that before?" she asked calmly, though he could sense her seething outrage.

"Once or twice," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I get the feeling that asking... er, it to change its name for me."

"Doubtful," she conceded. "Shale calls Morrigan 'the swamp witch', Wynne 'the elder mage', Zevran is 'the painted elf'-"

"Interesting that it doesn't called you or I that," Tamlen interrupted.

"I'm 'the Grey Warden' or 'it'," Ayale explained. "Leliana is 'the sister', I think Sten gets called 'qunari' and... I'm not sure what Shale calls Alistair, 'it' I think, and Torgan is 'dog'."

"And I'm 'the ghoul elf'," Tamlen finished with a wry smile. "Interesting."

His clanmate snorted, unimpressed, as she started taking her anger out on her hair. He tried not to wince when she viciously hacked away, narrowly missing her fingers and the tips of her ears in the process.

Worried about the damage she may cause herself, Tamlen stood up and quietly walked over to her. Raising his hand to gently cover her own, he eased the knife out of her grip and securely into his. When she looked up in him in surprised confusion, he smiled at her before setting his free hand to lightly hold her chin and set her head. He struggled not to widen his smile when she turned her head so he could continue for her.

He ignored the self-satisfied smirk from the shemlen bard.

"Ayale," Wynne called from beside the she-elf. "Are you going to tell me why you and Tamlen haven't eaten anything today?"

Ayale looked up at the sun and fought the urge to sigh. They had packed up camp soon after Tamlen's incident with Shale, and had been travelling further into the forest all day. It was getting close to evening, and they were soon going to need to set up camp.

And once the sun had set, both she and Tamlen would finally be able to have something to eat.

The two Dalish had agreed not to inform the others in the group that they were entering their autumn fast. While neither had a problem with everyone knowing, they both knew that they would take an unprecedented interest in the tradition.

So much for that thought. Ayale breathed in calmly to settle her temper. As several in her clan had had the displeasure of finding out, on more than one occasion: she had quite a temper when pushed, and fasting was a sure way of shortening her patience.

"We're only fasting during the day," Ayale replied, praying that her irritation wasn't evident in her tone. "It's part of our customs, part of what it is to be Dalish."

"I was merely worried about the two of you not eating," Wynne retorted, obviously catching the hidden tone. "And, tradition or not, I don't think it's in Tamlen's best interests to be starving himself again."

Ayale faltered, almost stopping dead at Wynne's words. She was struck by the immense gravity of the older woman's words, unknowingly stated by the Circle mage. The horrific image of her clanmate's emancipated body from the night of his reappearance flashed before her eyes, causing her stomach to twist and the bile to rise in her throat.

"I'm hardly starving myself, Hahren," Tamlen called from behind them. "Can't you just accept that this is part of who we are?"

Wynne pursed her lips and looked, unimpressed, at the elf, who was impervious to the mage's glare. Judging by the silent messages that the duo were sending each other, confrontation seemed inevitable.

"Does everyone see that?" Ayale called, bringing everyone's attention back to the forest.

They were about to walk through a dip between two mounds. Past the mounds, Ayale could see rising smoke, and the air rippled from the heat of multiple fires. And, even at the distance that they were, she could hear the thuds of arrows hitting straw targets and the clang of a craftsman and his apprentice at work.

All were the signs of a camp, but even better, they were signs of a Dalish camp.

Ayale looked around, and saw with barely contained delight that the several scouts that she had been aware of were making their presence more well-known. And ahead of them, an escort was approaching them, either to take them out of the forest or to guide them to their Keeper.

Relishing the moment of being with kin once again, Ayale strode forward, leaving the rest of the party to hang back unsurely. The sound of footsteps alerted her to Tamlen's continued presence beside her. She looked over her shoulder to her clanmate, her eyes alight with eager anticipation and her lips tweaked into a relieved smile, and saw his expression echoed her own.

She schooled her face as she turned back to the welcome party, and promptly forwent the calm, collected air when she recognised the she-elf approaching them.

"Mithra!" Ayale called excitedly. "Aneth ara."

"Andaran atish'an lethallan, lethallin," Mithra greeted warmly. "You have come a long way. I give you the welcome of our clan."

She smiled kindly to Ayale and Tamlen, before focusing on the rest of the group. Her smiled slid off her face as she looked at them and she started to frown slightly in confusion and concern.

"These are curious companions you have," Mithra observed warily. "May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

"We've come on behalf of the Grey Wardens," Ayale replied factually.

"The Grey Wardens? You... have both joined their ranks? How unusual!" Mithra exclaimed excitedly before mentally correcting herself. "Excuse my surprise. I will take you to see the Keeper right away."

Mithra turned and started to walk back to her clan's camp. She turned slightly to look back at Ayale and Tamlen expectantly.

While Tamlen made to follow Mithra, Ayale hung back. She looked over to where Alistair and the others were standing. She exchanged glances between the rest of the group and the slowly retreating backs of her clanmate and fellow Dalish.

"Come on Alistair," she called finally. "I think it's best if all Grey Wardens spoke to the Keeper. Everyone else stay here. We'll be back in a while."

Then, after waiting for the shemlen templar to join her, Ayale fell into step behind Mithra. Tamlen walked by her side and Alistair followed behind them. Everyone was silent as they approached the camp.

Everywhere she looked, Ayale was greeted by sights that were reminiscent of her own clan. She and Tamlen had been gone for four months, and seeing the crafts-master at work, the aravels, groups of elves surrounding a cooking fire or tending to menial tasks... it made her realise just how much she had missed it all.

She glanced sideways at Tamlen. She could see him looking around as well. He probably missed the clan as much as she did, if not more. She had left the clan aware that she might never see them again, Tamlen hadn't had that insight. She hadn't mentioned the possibility to him yet, and was dreading the foreseeable conversation.

Her internal musing was cut short when she noticed that Mithra was leading them to a particular elf. Upon a quick glance over him, she saw that he was their Keeper, though she couldn't identify the man. Once she stood before him, she recognised him easily: Zathrian.

"Hmmm. It seems we have guests, and two of our own, no less," Zathrian noted interestedly as he looked over Ayale's party.

"They are from one of our sister clans to the north of here," Mithra introduced. "But, they claim to be here on behalf of the Grey Wardens."

The Grey Wardens? How unusual that two of our own should join their ranks," Zathrian stated in surprised. "How did such a thing occur?"

At the Keeper's question, Ayale saw Tamlen blanch. His entry into the Grey Wardens had not been a pleasant ordeal and, if she wanted to be entirely honest, neither was hers. The thought of telling their story felt very unappealing, and the she-elf thought frantically for an answer.

"It's a long story, Keeper," she stalled. "Perhaps another time?"

"Perhaps so. I'm afraid at the moment I have little time to spare for long tales," Zathrian conceded, nodding his head before returning his attention to their guide. "Ma serannas Mithra. You may return to your post."

"Ma nuvenin Keeper," Mithra bowed her head to Zathrian before leaving the group.

"Now, perhaps we might introduce ourselves," Zathrian stated authoritatively. "I am Zathrian, keeper and hahren of this clan. And you are?

"My name is Ayale, Keeper," the she-elf introduced, turning to her companions. "This is my clanmate, Tamlen, and Alistair, a fellow Grey Warden."

Zathrian nodded, apparently pleased with the introductions. The Keeper looked over them with polite curiosity, his stern eyes peering at them past his vallaslin of Dirthamen. He raised his chin slightly, which made him look quite arrogant to Ayale.

"If you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed the corruption," Zathrian stated assuredly, before his shoulders drooped wearily. "I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to. Sadly, as you can see, we do not."

"Yes, it seems like you have your own troubles," Alistair murmured darkly behind the Dalish. "What are the odds?"

Ayale glanced in irritation over her shoulder at the shemlen. She knew that he could be tactless at times, but that comment had been crude even for him. Plus, she was certain that Zathrian had heard the templar as well.

"Do not allow our troubles to burden you, though I suspect they may impact your mission," Zathrian continued, ignoring Alistair's interruption. "I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. However, we may not be able to live up to our promise."

Zathrian paused at the admission. He shifted uncomfortably and frowned concernedly, as if he was unsure of how to continue. He then sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"This will require some... explanation," he admitted. "Please follow me."

Ayale glanced in confusion towards Tamlen and Alistair. The shemlen's face was blank, as usual, and Tamlen looked clueless. Her clanmate shrugged and beckoned her onwards to follow the Keeper.

With a resigned sigh, Ayale turned and followed Zathrian to a secluded area of the camp. Even approaching it looked ominous, with the high cloth walls that isolated it from everyone and hid everything and everyone inside. After a slight hesitation at the entrance flap, Ayale pushed through and saw what had befallen Zathrian's clan.

Author's Note: I'm not sure when my next update will be after this. I've just started Uni, and I currently don't know what my timetable is, or what my workload will be. I will get the next chapter done as soon as I can, but that may take a while.

Elven translations (my words in italics)

Andaran atish'an –Enter this place in peace (Formal greeting

Aneth ara –(Friendly/sociable greeting between Dalish)

Hahren –Elder

Lethallan –Friend (Female)

Lethallin –Friend (Male)

Ma serannas –Thank you

Ma nuvenin –As you wish

Shemlen –Human

Vallaslin –Blood writing

Vir shemlath –Way of quick love (Playing matchmaker)