Chapter 5: The Warp and Weft

The following morning was, in a word, brutal. Mariner sat near the remains of the fire, glaring at the ocean over a cup of sea-salt tea through what had to be the worst headache of his life. Fenris sat across from him, finishing some of the last-minute packing while Hawke attempted to wrangle Bodkin back into his harness.

"YAAAGH! Stupid horse! This is why you're ugly and nobody likes you!"

Mariner winced at the volume and began to gingerly rub at his temple.

"Are you alright?" Fenris asked.

"I'm fine. I just…I had the weirdest dream last night. It kept…waking me up."

Fenris stopped and very slowly drew his eyes up to meet the other elf on the far side of the fire pit.

"It was…it was…yeah, it was one of those." Mariner blushed and began chewing the edge of his clay cup.

"I…see." Fenris coughed lightly and continued to wrap their procured supplies.

Mariner straightened uncomfortably.

"Hey, Fenris? Can I ask you a personal question?"

'This was it.' The white-haired elf scolded himself. 'The actual problem was that Mariner had heard everything from last night and was…freaked out? Upset? Disgusted?' Same-sex relationships weren't exactly extraordinary among elves but this one involved a human and an elf; one of whom was an apostate mage to boot. There was no telling what reaction they might get.

"How long have you known Hawke?"

"I…what?"

"Hawke."

The two elves then turned to regard the titular mage in question, who was now half-jogging, half-stumbling down the rise to the beach as Bodkin ambled out onto the sand, still sans harness.

"I SAID GET BACK HERE!"

Mariner sniffed idly. "Champion of Kirkwall, you say?"

"He had…help. A lot of help."

Fenris returned to his pack. "But I've known him for, oh, near ten years now, I'd say."

"Huh." Came the thoughtful response, followed by a sip of tea. "Long time."

"I suppose."

"So…" The ashvani hesitated and Fenris did not look up. "After all that time…how did you know that he was…you know, the one for you."

Fenris let the wrap he was holding slide to the ground as he leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, and stared at Mariner with a scrutinizing gaze.

"I'm…sorry?" Clearly the other elf wasn't angry or upset about the general topic of their conversation, so Fenris began to wonder exactly what his intent in this line of inquiry might then be.

Mariner waved one hand absently in the air as a gesture of conciliation. "I'm just curious. Seeing as you've been together so long; how you knew that Hawke was the one you wanted. Elves and humans don't always get along so well in…this regard."

Fenris contemplated his answer for quite some time. It wasn't that he found the question embarrassing, only that no one had actually asked him something like that before.

"I didn't…not at first, anyway." He shrugged. "We haven't been together, not in that way I mean, for as long as I have known him. That part is relatively recent, I guess you might say. But I've cared for him since long before."

"Oh."

"I suppose it was because…" Fenris continued. "He…pursued me."

Mariner smiled. Human and elf relationships were uncommon where he was from, but these two honestly seemed so well suited to one another, so completely complimentary despite their protestations to the contrary, that he wasn't at all surprised that they were lovers. What he'd overheard the previous night had merely been a confirmation of his suspicions.

"And he convinced you?"

Fenris chuckled lightly. "Yes, he convinced me. After a while, in any case."

"MAKER'S BALLS, HORSE! FFRRRAARRGH!"

"Well, he's very charming."

Fenris laughed at that; listening as Hawke finally caught up with the ornery draft pony some several meters down the shoreline.

"Was he the one who freed you? You mentioned before that you were once a slave in Tevinter."

"I was but no, I freed myself. Hawke was there, though. He stood with me when my master and his cronies came to reclaim me. He fought at my side then and has ever since."

Mariner smiled. The affection in Fenris' voice was unmistakable and it was nice to hear the older elf speak of something so fondly.

"And you?" Fenris returned. "Did you have someone…in the caravan?"

Mariner picked at his cup cautiously. "Not in that way. Not like you and Hawke."

"Family?"

"Everyone in caravan is family. But, no, actually. I was a foundling. I was left with the Ava'Darna when I was very young by a woman who brought me in to the encampment."

"Your mother?"

"I'm…not sure? She was elven by their accounts, though I'm told we look nothing alike. That's not necessarily anything to go on but she was, sadly, quite mad. Ranted nonsense and refused to eat or sleep. She died just days after. The Elusivir are the same as family, though. They never cast me apart from them, even when they could have."

"And 'Mariner'? Is that the name your family gave you?"

"Did your family name you 'Fenris'?"

"Hm. Point taken."

"That's it!" Hawke careened side-long into the midst of the two elves, panting and wheezing as he flailed about with two unhooked horse leads, sopping muddy shoes, and a momentarily pacified Bodkin with a handful of carrots stuffed in his mouth. "I think I've got things under control. Finally. We can shove off whenever you two are ready."

The city of Amaranthine would take them some seven to nine days to reach, depending on the state of the weather or whatever other kinds of bad luck they would inevitably encounter. At first, Fenris had suggested that Mariner ride Bodkin, in part because he had neither leggings nor boots and in part because he figured they could move faster with just he and Hawke on foot. But as it turned out, the Elusivir were not without their talents when it came to fast travel and Mariner was quick to demonstrate both his fleet-footedness and his preference for remaining quick and unhindered as they walked. There were, in fact, more than a few occasions where both Hawke and Fenris temporarily lost sight of him and had to wonder whether or not he'd been led away by another vision of wolves and butterflies. But he always reappeared, sometimes on the horizon and sometimes suddenly in their midst, having made hardly a sound.

By the third day, however, the three companions had eased into a genial comraderie and chatted amiably as they took the coastal road through Highever.

"It's not all that unusual really." Mariner was explaining to Hawke. "The poor, the destitute, those trapped in the alienages; many elves bring their children to the caravans in the hope that it will give them a better chance. Even a miniscule one. Sometimes they do it to escape enslavement, sometimes the child is unwanted for other reasons. All of them terrible, as you might imagine. But the caravans never take them unless they are offered freely, and sometimes not even then. For all the claims people make, the only children the Elusivir have ever stolen were their own."

"And the woman who left you? Did you ever find out where she came from?"

"Not really. My caravani used to say that she must have come from the Imperium, given her accent. But she wasn't speaking Tevene; more like a combination of Elvish and the common tongue. She wasn't Dalish either, though. If I had to guess, I think it's more likely that she knew my mother or had something to do with her when I was born. Maybe she was a midwife or a priestess. Maybe my parents were slaves and wanted me taken away, given…well, given that…"

"You're ashvani?" Hawke finished.

"Yes." Mariner sighed, scrubbing his heel into the rocks. "Besides, she was tall and blonde, and I am neither of those things."

"Was it magic that did that then? Turned some of your hair white?" Hawke had been wanting to ask the young elf about this particular trait for days, but had not found a better opportunity.

"Oh, no. Well, at least, I don't think so. I was actually born with it that way. It was all white to begin with. As it grew, though, it just started coming in dark brown. I've never really cut it so, I guess, until I do, it will just keep looking a little strange. I actually kind of like it, though. Was it magic that did it to you, Fenris?"

Fenris, so addressed, responded without looking back. "Yes. A ritual. The same one that gave me these markings."

"Hmm." Mariner tilted his head thoughtfully. "What color was it before then?"

Fenris stopped and turned, regarding both the other elf and the mage with a raised eyebrow.

"Was…that a bad question?" Mariner paused.

"Hey, don't scowl at me. I actually kinda want to know too." Hawke smiled and crossed his arms.

Fenris rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I don't remember."

The other two didn't move.

"I…. well, my sister's hair is …reddish? So…how about that?"

Hawke nodded and kicked up his step again. "Yeah, good enough. For what it's worth though, I think you'd have made a cute redhead."

The mage ducked but failed to avoid the loose clods of dirt that bounced merrily off of his shoulder plate.

As the hours passed, they encountered several other travelers and more than a few wagons and supply trains, and nearly all of them gave the unusual trio a variety of concerned or wary glances. A few had slanting words but only one caused them any trouble. It was a rogue-ish bunch to begin with; a couple of grizzled old soldiers, a sneak-thief, and some mercenary types who took two elves and a mage for easy pickings.

Fenris knew they were going to be a problem from the moment he saw them. Their leader, a heavy fighter with badly scarred hands and an unkempt beard, took point and approached them; swaggering along the road so as to clearly brandish the longsword on his hip.

"Nice pair you've got there, friend!" He called out to Hawke, nodding towards the elves and implying that he took them for slaves. Or servants, if nothing else.

Hawke sighed and leaned on his staff, taking up a position between the approaching group and his two companions. "We don't have anything of use to you and we don't need any trouble."

"No trouble, friend." The rogue smiled broadly, menacingly. "Just thought I might like to get a better look at that young one you've got there."

"Oh, not this again." Mariner groaned. "Is that all you people ever think about?!"

Hawke irritably tapped his staff against the ground. He really wasn't in the mood for this. "Nope. Sorry. I'm afraid my friend isn't up for a show today. Better for you, though. To be honest, I'm not even sure he can juggle."

The other man glared at Hawke's attempt at benign humor. "Not looking for a show, laddy. We rather had some better entertainment in mind, me and the boys. Now, you can do us a favor and get lost; no harm to you. Or we can take 'em both and leave you in the ditch for the crows to figure out."

Fenris drew his sword and pressed back towards Mariner. "Can you fight?"

"What?!"

"Can you fight?" He snarled.

"I…uh, I guess? Sort of? But I'm not armed."

Fenris quickly pulled a dagger from his belt and handed it off. "Do not hesitate to use this."

Mariner stood aghast at the blade in his hands as Fenris moved up towards Hawke. He'd never been in this kind of a fight before, much less ever actually had to stab anyone. He could hunt, certainly. Maybe even take on an angry predator if the situation called for it. But a band of well-armed and presumably well-trained marauders? Not a chance.

Without a doubt, however, Hawke was pissed. Having made it clear that he had no intention of turning either of the elves over to the scoundrels accosting them, he now allowed magical energies to crackle ominously through his fingers as the bandits began to circle them. Fenris dropped the point of his sword to his side as he sized up the first two and greeted their sneers with a growl.

"Last chance." The scarred man announced.

"It is." Hawke agreed.

"Enough of this." Fenris snapped. "You want elves to entertain you? Come and see what I've got for you then."

The swordsman who attempted to take Fenris by surprise did not do so adequately. Instead, he took the full brunt of a wide blow as he tried to stealthily approach the elf on his right side. But it was all that was needed for the entire company to erupt into a melee. Hawke immediately returned the attack with a deafening crack of lightening, arcing between several bandits before it exploded into the rocks ahead of them. Bodkin, for his part, did not seem overly concerned with the sudden violence and simply walked off the road to munch on the tall grasses near the woods opposite to the waterfront. Mariner, on the other hand, was terrified.

With a graceful leap overhead, Fenris came down hard on a soldier closing at Hawke's back, severing his hand with what seemed to be hardly a flick of his wrist. As the man screamed, the lyrium on Fenris' skin began to glow white-hot and Mariner watched in stunned shock as the other elf raised one gauntleted hand before slamming it deep into the attacker's chest. A second later, Fenris closed his fist, crushing the life from the bandit before phasing his hand back through the corpse and turning on the next man that dared to engage him.

It was a bloody mess, but Mariner had no doubt that his companions were seasoned warriors; both of them working in practiced concert with one another. Separating out their opponents and taking them down one by one; Hawke favored a combination of lightening chains and an explosive palm spell whenever a fighter got too close to him, while Fenris relied on a devastating sequence of attacks that parried anything against him or against the mage before felling their foes with a singular thrust through the torso. The clash of battle unnerved him and it was hard to discern where one body would go following the next. Mariner actually started to consider whether or not he should just join Bodkin in the grass and wait.

A hand on his shoulder caused the Elusivir to whirl about and nearly stumble backwards with a shout. The sneak-thief had rounded on him and was closing quickly; a long, thin, blade held low to his waist.

"I think we both know that you have no idea how to use that." The man motioned towards the dagger in Mariner's hand.

The elf tightened his grip. "Maybe not. But I do know one thing, and that's there's a big difference between how you get what you want and how I get what I want."

"Oh?" The thief stepped closer, forcing Mariner back towards the shore.

"If you want me, you can't hurt me. I'm no use to you dead."

"True." The man agreed. "But if you think that means I won't carve a few pieces off of you first, you're in for a surprise, little elf."

Mariner swallowed and glanced towards his companions; both of whom were, unfortunately, completely embroiled in a savage battle against the rest of the blackguard company. Fenris, splattered in blood from head to toe, dove to the ground just in time to avoid a sword to his shoulder before driving his spiked gauntlet into the throat of the man above him. As he slumped down, Hawke kicked him over, raised his staff, and sent a dazzling bolt of raw power past their heads and into the two fighters charging at their backs. The first went down immediately. The second met his end at the tip of Fenris' blade. But more were coming and there was no way to escape them.

Mariner panicked. The thief snatched at him, as if to pluck the dagger from his hand before he'd even had a chance to use it. The younger elf skittered backwards. He could be of no help in this fight. He didn't know how to kill. He didn't know how to stop others from killing him. All he knew was to…

…a butterfly, orange and yellow like firelight, flitted past his face…

…run.

Mariner looked to the man bearing down on him and felt a shiver run through his body; down his back and into his feet. He thought he could hear something crashing through the forest just beyond; thought he could see some great, dark, shadow rising up out of the trees. Hear the harsh panting of ragged breaths from a beast racing across the fallen leaves.

…run.

He took off. Straight into the thicket with the rogue at his heels, he could hear the man cursing and shouting at him. Yelling at him to stop; taunting him with promises of what he would do to him when he caught him. It only pressed Mariner faster; dashing over fallen timber, weaving through roots and limbs as a deer in the hunt, and bounding up brambled trunks with ease. He could hear the man pacing behind him, and though he was at a full sprint, the sounds were falling back, growing fainter in the distance. He was losing him; the human finding, to his detriment, that pursing an Elusivir in the woods was tantamount to chasing a stag on foot and within minutes, he lost sight of the elf all together. With a whip-flourish of auburn hair and a white twist, his prey vanished into the bracken.

At last, the thief pulled up, gasping and out of breath as he looked around in an attempt to get his bearings again. He was in the woods, obviously; standing in some deep glen surrounded by old growth trees that towered high into the canopy. 'That was odd.' He thought. He didn't remember there being any old growth this far up the coast. The man turned, but saw only more brush and undergrowth, ivy and ferns and mosses in rolling mounds as high as a house. He could no longer see the forest's edge nor make out the direction of the sun as dappled light filtered down into the gloom.

He turned again. Still nothing. Only more trees, more vines and wildflowers. A small cloud of white butterflies danced in the breeze before floating up into the higher branches. Instinctively, he began searching the ground for his own tracks, hoping that they might lead him back to where he had started. Clearly the elf was out of reach in here and he couldn't even tell anymore which direction he'd gone off in. 'That's fine' He mused. 'Probably wouldn't get much of a cut from selling him anyway.' The men of his company, fine fighters though they might be, were better suited to treasure-goods. They tended to be a little too rough with their captives, when they had them. and by the time they'd get them to the markets, they weren't worth much anymore. No one liked a used-up, cut-up slave.

No tracks. The man groaned in aggravation. There didn't seem to be a way out of this place. He briefly thought he should just turn about-face and march back in the direction he thought he might have come, but even that was a problem. In pursuing the elf, he knew he'd taken several turns and double-backs before arriving here. He sighed and furrowed his brow. Everything was quiet; serene and peaceful, despite the fact that he was well and truly lost. But then…there was a strange sound. Like breathing. Like a deep, drawn-out, wheeze followed by a huff. Twigs snapped beneath the weight of something large and lumbering. The hairs all along the man's arms and neck stood up. He could hear a low, rumbling, growl; like that of a great hound…and it was approaching from behind him.

He didn't want to look. There were no bears or wolves on the coast. No large carnivores that he knew of. But there was something there. And it was massive. And angry.

He turned, as slowly and non-threateningly as possible. A shadow blackened out the light, advancing through the foliage on huge, clawed, paws; ivory teeth glinting with specks of stolen sun. The eyes…it was the eyes though…grey-green and bright with intelligence too determined to be animal. They were…almost human.

Hawke blustered forward as the last two remaining bandits turned tail and ran, leaving the bodies of their company heaped onto the road. Fenris spit angrily has he pulled his sword free from the leader's corpse, now flopped unceremoniously at his feet in an ever-widening pool of blood.

"Fenris?" Hawke called out.

"I'm fine." He replied. "Nothing that won't heal in a day or two. Unlike our new friends here."

Hawke let out a relieved breath. He never doubted Fenris' capabilities in a fight but it always worried him a little bit whenever they were forced into a conflict. A low or unexpected blow could come at any time, from anywhere, and he was always fearful that the next battle could be his lover's last.

The mage turned as Fenris approached him, wiping some of the spatter from his face as he did so. "I think that's all of them that we'll have to worry about."

"Good." Hawke chuffed. "I never thought it would be so difficult to get one elf to one city on what is supposed to be a reasonably safe road."

Fenris turned and looked over his shoulder, spying Bodkin happily chomping away on stalks of yellowed grass but nothing else.

"Speaking of which…where is Mariner?"

Hawke looked up, and then to each side. He turned around and worriedly searched the bodies, but to no avail. The young elf was not among them.

"I…I don't know. I didn't see him…"

A blood-curdling scream of unmitigated terror erupted from somewhere in the woods.

"Oh no…" Hawke breathed before grabbing Fenris as the both of them took off at a dead run.

Fenris' heart pounded in his chest. They might already be too late.