Right before Lyna came to the cave the second time...
Duncan looked long and hard at the artifact before him, the Eluvian standing between its stone protectors. Several lifeless Darkspawn lay around him.
He knew what it mirror was even though he never had seen one before.
He knew very well what its purpose was.
It was crafted by the elves of Arlathan to be used as portals for telecommunication and rapid transportation between their cities, using a type of magic different from that of the modern Circle of Magi or even the Tevinter Imperium. During the fall of Arlathan, many Eluvians were destroyed, while those that survived the conflict seemingly stopped functioning. It was told long ago the Tervinter Imperium managed to find some, but the only thing they could do with to establish long-distance communication with their allies.
His thoughts were interrupted as footsteps echoed the ancient hall. He didn't turn around, though. He had a sense who the visitor was.
"It's been a while, old friend. Since Denerim, yes?" Duncan stated, though his voice was less sincere and sterner.
"That it has. I've been away."
"Doing what, I might ask?"
"You can ask. I won't answer, though, but you can still ask. You have the right to, as I bear the right to decline comment." The visitor's voice resonated youth, but the way he talked was more towards a higher age in life. Duncan finally turned around to see his 'friend', wearing a thick, hooded cloak of bearskin. Inside the hood was darkness surrounding two eyes the color of clear water as the sun reflected upon its pigment.
Duncan looked behind the figure. "Where's your companion?"
"Mortis? Out hunting. He won't be joining us today, sadly."
"Good. Last time you came to me with him, it was -"
"- a fiasco?" He chuckled.
Duncan followed in suite. "Indeed..."
"Well, it's your own fault, you know. I warned you, and -"
"Telling me 'Don't entice the wolf' is not a fair warning, my friend." Duncan stated firmly.
"I gave you sound advice; how does the blame fall on me if you cannot decipher its context?" The figure countered, shrugging along the way. When Duncan did not offer up an immediate response, thre figure took in the surroundings. "Speaking of traveling companions, may I ask of yours? Where'd the elf be at, at this time? And the other Wardens, too, I say? Surely you did not come alone."
"I did. Tabris is at the Dalish camp; no doubt learning the lost past of his race. I left the others at a rendezvous point not far but not close by either." Duncan explained.
The 'friend' of the Warden chuckled under his hood. "Concerned the Dalish might act...unwisely around dwarves and mages, both elven and human at that?"
"You could say that. Too many foreign visitors may run the risk of increasing the chances of hostilities." Duncan admitted.
"Uh-huh." The figure was not buying into Duna's explanation; he was holding back something.
"You know why I'm here." Duncan stated, changing the course of the discussion. The humor had gone quicker than a gust of wind, leaving only solid statements and no questions.
"Of course I do. You can't miss a powerful magical presence like this thing is given off, can you? It's a beacon...the worse kind, unfortunately." Even though Duncan could not see his eyes, he knew full well his 'friend; was looking at the Eluvian ever so cautiously. "They were a mistake. They had no right to delve into arcane arts they knew not of. These abominable contraptions are only designed to harm, not help."
"A shame they learned the truth too late." Something in Duncan's words made the figure hold back terror and pure shock, for unbeknownst to Duncan, he hit a spot in he figure's life he had no wish to revisit. He was able to keep his demeanor cool, though.
"Yes. A shame...it should be destroyed." He said, tripping over his words.
"It will be. The Taint is very strong here." Duncan stated, oblivious to the figure's sudden change of voice characterization.
"There what in the bloody hell is holding back you blade?" The figure's tone was, if anything, angered but not to the point of enraged. "Is motivation a scarcity at the existing period of time for you, or are you afraid the mirror might explode in your face the moment it breaks upon Warden steel?"
"Neither. I'm...expecting someone."
"Expecting?! And who precisely are you expec-...oh. Oooohhhh..." the figure took a long sigh. "The elf. That huntress who survived the Taint's power. Lyna, yes? Heh. Of course. You knew she would come and look for her friend here as soon as she awoke, didn't you? How you knew, I won't bother to venture a guess, but the fact you knew somehow, someway...you are shrewd, Duncan. Devilishly shrewd, at that."
Duncan took a quick glance at the figure. He didn't recall revealing her name to his friend. He knew the figure knew elves better than anyone alive; there history, their culture, and their survival tactics were not unknown to his keen mind. Yet, his speech in the naming of the elf left him puzzled. The figure's tone was not suggesting he pitied the elf for her fate, but rather he, as astonishing ridiculous as he thought it was, knew she would come. Duncan had no clue how or why, and that frustrated him.
The hooded one decided to change course. Slightly. Duncan expected the figure surmised his deep thoughts. Not unexpected, of course. "The elves will be infected in due time if this disease isn't cut at the source, though you and I will suffer not so heartily from its unholy effects. The Taint has already laid claim unto us, no?"
"How long until it spreads out of the cave?" Duncan inquired bluntly, seemingly ignoring his 'friends' words.
The hooded figure stood silent for a moment as the only sound to be heard were chirping birds. "Less than a fortnight, I should suspect."
Duncan was a little surprised by his friend's deductions. "You're certain?"
"If my studies have truly yielded any form of solid theories...yes." His response was quick. A little too quick.
"Then that's -" he had just pulled his longsword halfway out of its sheath when sounds of heated battle were overheard around the entry way.
"Ah, the elves come at last. Marethari's hunters took their time, didn't they?" The stranger observed.
Now Duncan let his frustration loose. "How is it that you knew she would come here? I had my own suspicions, but you were nowhere around, so how could you possibly know she would come here?""
"Well, you expected such action from her, no? What have I to tell you which you know too well will happen?"
"I don't play games, old friend." The aged Warden said, viciously blunt.
"Neither do I." His return was as blunt as Duncan's.
There was pause in the not so distant combat engagement.
"No doubt that young one is among the party. She shouldn't be here: she is still weak. The effects of the Taint have not subsided." Duncan stated.
"Do they ever?" The stranger retorted to the annoyed elder Warden.
Loud battle cries spoken in the elvish tongue were perceived, accompanied by the cash of blades and the faint hissing of elven arrows.
The figure's face was unseen, but his voice portrayed him smirking, for he replied, "Apparently, she's stronger than you believe her to be capable of, Duncan. Otherwise, they would be no way in hell she'd have any strength to come here. Nine times out of ten - or if you want to get crazy, ninety-nine times out of one hundred - what happened to her occurred with someone else, they'd be dead. Or turned into a darkspawn. Never was too sure what fate was worse."
The middle-aged Warden stepped forward and gazed fiercely into the eyes of his 'friend'. "Do you know something about her that I don't?"
The figure did not answer immediately. "If you have an accusation against be, don't hold back, Speak your mind. You always do with me."
Duncan's eyes gleamed and his head rose just a half inch up, with an expression of realization. "You were the one who found the elf in here, weren't you? You got her out of this place before the Taint could spread further through her body. You brought her outside the cave for me to find herself, unconscious and barely alive."
"But alive. Death was knocking but had no keys to gain entry. I could not cure her, for even that dreaded ailment is beyond my powers to properly cure, but I could preserve what life she was hanging by. For someone to survive that much exposure of the Taint in one go...she should have died, but someone from up high thought otherwise, I suppose. Or fate does not wish to release her from its bonds just yet." The figure apparently felt he could not hide this fact from Duncan; the old Warden knew him better that most he allowed to encounter him, so he decided to confess.
Duncan's veins throbbed. "Why is she so important to you?"
The stranger's response lack quickness. Rather, his physical state suggested Duncan's words woke him from a daze, and he was none too pleased by the call. "Excuse me?"
"You could have let her die. It would have been a mercy to some."
The hooded 'man' denied the idea. "Not to me. Elves have suffered enough, and she has suffered now more than most. Yet her fire had not dimmed, and that fact is the reason why I believe she is worth much to you and the Wardens. Surely you have see that, yes?"
Duncan nodded, but did not postpone his pursuit. "For her to live despite the disease, her fortitude and valor is unsurpassed by higher men of stature. Even the 'great' nobles of Ferelden."
"Deserving of their stature or not." the figure corrected him.
"True. I've only found a few as strong in hearts and body like her, one in particular."
The stranger thought a moment before asking, "The elven mage? Sillvana or something, wasn't it? I know you told me, but I forgot. Sorry."
Duncan shook is head. "First: it's Surana. And second: You have the right race, but the wrong individual."
A realization flashed in the strangers mind. "Aaaahhhhhh...the other elf. The male. Yes. Tabris. Yes, now I see why you make the comparison."
Duncan changed course back to the origin. "Even though I will not deny her abilities are exceptional, I have...doubts."
"About what? Her loyalties to the clan and the Wardens?" The stranger asked, sounding like he was taken aback by Duncan's concerns.
"Not hers...Yours." He stated sternly.
The stranger sighed, his tired breaths mirroring that of the end of a long hike. "I thought I made it clear I would aid you no matter the outcome. Have my services not reflected that? And to answer your second question..." He raised a hand to prevent Duncan's interjection. "...my reasons for my involvement with this one are my own. I would insist you leave it at that. Is it personal? Maybe, but that's for me to know and for you, gods be willing, to find out only when and if I let you find out. I'm sorry, Duncan, but this is a case of ale I refuse to let you open on your terms."
Duncan's stare did not waver at the figure's dismissals. "I have never fully trusted you because you've always been one to do things your way, which half the time do not end well, your intention pure or otherwise."
The hooded one brought his hands up in a defensive position (not the kind expecting an attack, but rather like pleading his case). "I make no denials of that. I must take action, though, as I see fit; it's the only way I know to survive. Or live, for that matter."
Duncan walked down to him, saying quite rudely, "That is your life. The life I am speaking of is that of the elf Mahariel. You've never interfered with how I find recruits, save this instance. You've hold elves higher than any other race, and I have kept my peace with your decisions because of all you have done for me, and left you to your our devices. In this, I draw the line with how things have transpired. Every elf I have seen you interact with, disguised or not, you have conducted yourself in a fashion of mentor first and only. With Lyna, your demeanor is different, more protective, fatherly above all things I ever though you could be. So I ask, and I will hope you answer me in some truth, if not all: Who is she to you, Alaros?"
The figure sneered at the mention of his former name from an age long ago. "You swore to me you would never speak of that which you promised you'd take to the grave. That name holds no sway over me any longer. It hasn't for a few good thousand moons." His voice was harsh, cold, and enraged now. "Arlathan's time is like it's knowledge; gone in all but faint memory. You speak of a name I discarded long ago. If you wish to insult, use subsistence that hold mountains, not pebbles."
Duncan's persistence was not wavering; he had finally found a soft spot to stick a dagger into. "You didn't answer the question."
Nothing was spoken of for the longest time. Then, in a surprisingly calm voice: "To ease your preposterous suspicions, ever as nagging as they always are, I will only tell you this, and I insist you leave the matter at that, or we real have sever complications in the near and far future...let it be said that I, though the Mahariel child has no knowledge of this, owe a debt to her family. It involves, in no small or large part, what her father did."
Duncan's face did not change, but he did manage to, just briefly, display a jolt of intrigue. "And what did her father do?"
"Something he shouldn't have done, but I'm rather glad he did. If he haven't...this whole conversation would differentiate so much right now. It's a shame his demise came so soon after that incident. Of course, you know that part well enough, don't you?" The figure asked bluntly and with finality. The cries of battle were edging closer to the Eluvian's chamber. The figure turned his head slightly to the direction of the open doorway, and with that the conversation took a different wind. "They're determined to find you, I'll give them that much. Or perhaps they still cling to hope their clan brother still draws breath in these dark, dreaded, crumbling halls. I suppose the reason for their motivations will matter little when then reach this chamber." He turned back to Duncan. "My apologies, but I feel I must take my leave here." He backed off and bowed.
Duncan paid it no praise, nor did he acknowledge it as sincerity or its vices. "You can't be serious."
"They are here to find you, not me. Just because you are a Warden does not grant you invincibility against your foes. My presence would only create...certain circumstances I have no desire to be a part of at this time - or anytime in the immediate future, since we're discussing the matter. You would be wise to consider Lyna for what you came here to do."
Duncan just looked at the figure, unable to decide if he truly was an ally or someone who walked Thedas doing whatever he wished. "Every time we seem to come across each other, I don't know whether to kill you where you stand or let you be to your own devices."
The person once known as Threlaros shrugged. "It is only natural. Many distrust me and I take no shame in that, but trust me when I say I do what I do for the good of Thedas. That has never been a lie, and I have no desires to change that.
"Oh, one more thing: Be sure not to mention to the elves about the origins of this device. Say its Tervinter Imperium in origin or something. I mean, for the Maker's own sake, Tevinter adopted Arlathan magic as their own, so it's not like you're actually telling a lie. Just omitting traumatizing information." He thought about what he said, "Yes, that should suffice."
"You want me to lie to them?"
"You're a Warden. They'll listen to those who sacrifice all to save Ferelden and her mother, Thedas. What reason should they not do so?"
"You're asking me not to tell them about the mistakes of their ancestors?"
The man once called 'Alaros' chuckled halfheartedly. "Don't be absurd; people do that all the time to the Dalish. All I am asking you to do is not to tell them about this particular mistake. Some things are best left...unspoken of. You and I know that sad fact all too well, no?" He started his descent down the stairs. "You can tell them honestly about the temple; humans built this structure around the ruins of Arlathan's glory. There is no trickery in that because that is the truth. No deception is present or required. The mirror…" The figure took one last and hard stare at the blasphemous glass construct guarded by Arlathan statues and sighed. "Better they remain ignorant of this contraption's true lineage and function. Its nature should be delved into with the utmost caution at the vanguard. Some things should be found and utilize; some, like this despicable thing, should be destroyed for good. You and I can agree nothing of goodwill will be born from it. Only endless chaos. Everlasting mayhem. Death upon death like piling dirty plates upon one another."
Duncan took some time to process the unusual metaphor and its warnings. Then he asked, "What if they don't believe me?"
The figure held his tongue from laughing outright. "Wardens do what is necessary to halt evil's tide. I believe this falls under that category, don't you?" With that final, half-rhetorical query, he left the room, leaving Duncan to ponder what his old 'friend' actually knew about the elves, along with his obvious concern for the elf Lyna, thought the figure never made a direct comment on the topic, but Duncan was far from foolish or truly ignorant.
He turned back to the Eluvian and thought: Who is the elf to him? Why does he care for her so?...