Years passed, though not without their hardship. Springs turned to summers, then summers into autumn, and the forest's elven occupants continued on, growing stronger with each passing day.
Varren was dead; slaughtered by shemlen bandits within the sleeping forest. He had perished, protecting his mate from round-eared archers, his final wish the safety of their unborn child. Shiahari granted his wish, holding on to life just long to bring their daughter into the world. After slaying one of her pursuers and fleeing into the forests, she managed to drag herself to safety, despite the arrow piercing through her body. Despite the agony in both her body and heart, she never gave in, living up one final time to her name as the fiercest hunter of the Evria clan. Then, without a trace, she vanished into the night.
The discussions were long and hard, the Sabrae Clan at an utter loss for what to do. Tensions were high among the members, and conflict arising seemed inevitable. The desire for vengeance was powerful, but many knew that retaliation would only lead to further bloodshed. A war with the shemlen would not only result in the loss of their warriors, but also create hostility between the two groups for an unforeseeable future. So, with heavy hearts, the elves turned away, agreeing to let it lie.
Marethari was named Keeper of the clan in Varren's place and Ashalle Firana's primary caretaker. It had been Shiahari's final wish that she be raised by her most trusted ally and they ensured that it was honored. Doing so proved difficult enough on its own, growing even more so as the child grew. With age often came curiosity, and for a while, the adults tried to consider how best to address the situation should the topic ever arise. But as she continued to mature, blissfully unaware, the clan ultimately decided to leave the past where it belonged. None wanted to extinguish the light in Firana's exuberant eyes. Thus, the tragedy was never mentioned again.
. . .
Laughter echoed stone walls complemented with the sounds of splashing water. It was early summer, and the world was teeming with life. Verdant plains descended into sloping valleys of South Reach with clear blue rivers winding in between. Herds of halla wandered lazily across the landscape, grazing silently in the thick brush. Deep within the forest, hidden in the trees lay a small opening, in the rockface. Inside lay ancient ruins, left behind by shemlen of a time long passed. Running playfully through its labyrinthian halls were two of the Sabrae Clan's most adventurous children, frolicking along a cavernous bank.
"Eek! Stop it, Tamlen!"
"Haha, make me!"
The elven pair laughed with one another, each tossing water at the other. Firana stuck her tongue out at her friend, carefully leaning forward into the small underground stream. The water felt cool on her skin as she cupped her hands, allowing it to gather into a makeshift bowl. Lifting upward, she splashed the other elf in retaliation. Her lips pulled into a giddy grin when it struck him, cackling at his sopping blonde hair.
Tamlen shook his head, throwing water droplets into the surrounding air. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that one!"
"Eep!" Firana squealed, turning tail, and running along the water's edge. Tamlen followed her, laughing with a wicked grin. It was always this way during this time of year, playing in various areas of the forest, often just the two of them. Orphaned at birth, the elven girl had always felt a little out of place within the clan. While she never wanted for love and affection, she frequently found herself by her lonesome. Ashalle was a doting mother, fussing and fawning over her at every given turn, but as all adults within the encampment, she would sometimes wander to take care of other responsibilities. It was during these times that Firana grew lonely, as she didn't have many friends within the Dalish camp.
Merrill was always occupied, practicing magical spells under the tutelage of Keeper Marethari. Fenarel, though on friendly terms, was a bit older. In training to become a warrior, he generally had other things to do. The other children her age got along well enough, but Firana always found that they had trouble keeping up. With nearly endless stamina and a curious streak larger than Ferelden itself, she would frequently find herself getting into trouble. They simply couldn't sympathize with her adventurous nature and many of the children refused to join in her antics.
Then, there was Tamlen. A couple years her senior, but not quite an apprentice, he was always more than happy to join in her shenanigans. The result was a series of escapades, often taking them through the forests, over the rolling hills, and even near other wandering tribes. In the most unusual cases, their exploration would lead the pair into caves and ruins like the one they currently occupied, finding knickknacks and treasures that further fueled her fascination. It wasn't uncommon for the two to journey a bit far from the encampment, much to Ashalle's dismay, but the pair had never encountered any trouble that they couldn't handle together.
"Gotcha!"
"Ack!"
Footsteps drew louder, growing near and echoing against the dirt and cobblestone. Fast as she was, her size betrayed her as his longer strides disadvantaged her on the uneven terrain. Within a moment, she was airborne then rolling through a muddy patch as Tamlen tackled her to the ground. The two tumbled around, laughing like hyenas and splashing each other in between their grapples. As the smaller of the two, Firana had little chance against the slightly older elf. It wasn't long before she found herself pinned on the ground, a bundle of flailing limbs.
"Grr…"
His friend growled, struggling beneath him as best she could. Tamlen only laughed, rolling off of her and setting her free. Firana quickly sat up, flicking her wet fingers at him in retaliation for his dirty tactics. He struck back, swiping a hand into the stream, and throwing water against her cheeks. Grudgingly accepting defeat, the younger elf closed her eyes and rubbed her hand against her face. Cleaning the grime from her vision, she sighed and looked back at him.
Greyish-blue eyes slid up and down, looking over him to see if she at least dirtied him equally. She didn't find too many mud or grass stains, but she did notice something highly unusual. Sunlight filtered through cracks in the open ceiling, shining thin sunbeams against Tamlen's dripping hair. Behind him, the light bounced back to her, ricocheting off a small, rectangular object resting against the rocks. Something had been left in the ruins.
"Tamlen… what is that?" Firana asked, lifting a finger, and pointing at the mysterious box.
"Hmm?" He followed her finger with his gaze, along the edge of the wall and towards a small wooden box. "I'm not sure…" Tamlen rose to his feet, brushing himself off and making his way to the strange object. Closer inspection revealed a small dark box, crafted with mahogany, and sealed by a small golden latch. Behind him, Firana approached, looking around his arm to inspect his find.
"What is it…?" she asked, moving back a step as her companion turned around.
"I don't know… some kind of container." Tamlen shifted and shook the box, curiosity building as the sound of rattling reached their ears. The latch clicked stubbornly, holding in place as he tried to pull open the lid. "It's locked."
"Here, let me." Tamlen dropped the box in Firana's outstretched hand, watching as her other dug furiously through her pockets. Exasperation was his only emotion as she pulled a small lockpick from her fabric folds, long since beyond any form of surprise. With her, there was nothing that surprised him. Not anymore.
A few moments passed while she fiddled with the latch, angling the box carefully toward the light for better vantage. All was silent in the ruin until the quiet click of a springing lock filled the air. Firana had gotten it open. Her lips curled in a display of triumph as she returned her lockpick to her pocket and held out the box. With both pairs of eyes burning with curiosity, she slowly opened the box, revealing the treasure within.
Two lights glinted back at them, resting upon a velvet blanket. "They're… rings?" Tamlen reached forward, plucking the pair from their resting place, and holding them out in the open. Each were made of silver, their smooth edges catching the dim light and glittering like two diamonds. Gemstones rested atop of each one, one sapphire, one emerald, and their surface hummed with power. Even with their own lack of knowledge in the arcane arts, both could tell the objects were enchanted.
"Magic rings, from the look of it. I wonder what they do," Firana mumbled. Her eyes widened with wonder at the sight of them, taking in their beauty and craftmanship. How long had they remained here, she wondered, long separated from their owners? Had they been lost during an unforeseen happenstance, or left purposely for their return? She didn't know… but her own desire for knowledge overrode any chance of returning them to their rightful place.
"I'm not sure. Oh! We should take them back to the camp. I bet Merrill would know."
"Good idea. We should probably be heading back soon anyway." Mahariel lifted her head to the open ceiling as Tamlen pocketed the rings. The orange-tinted rays boring down on them warned them of day's end. It was late afternoon, and it wouldn't be long before the sun would set. And if they remained missing action after the dark, it was almost certain that the two of them would never step foot outside the camp again. Leaving the empty box where they had found it, the two turned and made their way back through the winding halls.
. . .
Following their trail of yellow powder through the halls, the pair returned to the surface and made their way back into the forest. Tamlen kept an eye out, scanning for his markings that would lead them back to camp. Firana followed suit, trailing after him as the two walked back into the trees. Soft grass scrunched beneath their feet as they moved, leaves rustling with every pass against the brush. His eyes lifted briefly to the sky, taking note of the yellow orb's position slowing sinking beneath the leaves. It seemed they had gone really far this time. Tamlen inwardly shuddered at the very thought of returning home. Ashalle was going to slay him.
To his rear, Firana paused, turning her head in the opposite direction. Stormy eyes scanned the wooded area for movement, but none came to her immediate view. Her field of vision was hindered by the forest thicket, masking anything that may have been wandering nearby. As animal encounters were common, she wouldn't typically care very much unless the noise was heavy or loud. Yet something about this particular noise bothered her. It was too quiet, feint like the paw pads of a forest wolf. They were slow and careful, made by one who didn't want to be seen.
"Firana, come on. We need to get back before sundown."
"Yeah…" Her response came as a dull whisper. She was only half paying attention as her ears continued to strain for any foreign sound. As the more perceptive of the two, the young elf was apprehensive to second-guess her instincts. Though it was true she was prone to fits of overthinking and paranoia, her senses had never steered her wrong. There were a few moments of total silence before Firana was satisfied, turning her eyes forward and following the older elf. Her body remained tense as they traveled, growing jumpy as the minutes drew on. Despite the lack of visual and audible evidence, she couldn't shake the distinct feeling that something was wrong. That they were not alone.
"This is the last time I'm letting you wander so far out," Tamlen complained, looking playfully over his shoulder.
"Me? You're the one who wanted to go to deeper into the ruins! 'I hear water', you said. 'It'll just take a second, you said."
"Only because of that filthy mud puddle. It splashed everywhere!"
"Well, maybe if you watched where you were going, you wouldn't have fallen in," she retorted, crossing her arms in stubborn defiance.
"As if you did any better. Look, you still have mud in your shoes."
"Wha — I do not!" Mahariel paused, looking down at her muddy legs, frowning as she realized that Tamlen was right. It seemed his misstep had splashed her as well. But her frown grew even deeper when another sound reached her ears from within the forest. It was one that was familiar to her as she had been listening to them their entire journey through the brush. Footsteps. It stopped only a moment after her own, making an uneven hitch in their careful rhythm. Tamlen was still walking slightly ahead, unaware that she had stopped moving. They couldn't possibly have come from him. That could only mean one thing. They were being followed.
Firana quickened her pace, jogging to walk beside her companion. Her voice fell to a low whisper, her hand gently grasping his sleeve to get his attention. "Tamlen… something is out there."
"Huh?" The older elf paused, looking down at her with a look of genuine confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"I heard something in the trees."
"There are all sorts of things in the trees. We're in a forest."
Mahariel shook her head, fixing him with a worried stare. "I'm serious, Tamlen. I think we're being follow —" Firana's sentence halted abruptly, melding into a startled shriek as she was hoisted from the ground.
"Firana!" Tamlen shouted, reaching immediately for his friend. He didn't get far. His outstretched fingers were yanked away as another assailant appeared, dragging him backward and gripping his arms. "Get off me!"
Firana struggled, kicking, and thrashing her limbs against her unseen attacker to no avail. Her small form was no match for the burly man gripping her around her chest. "Oy, oy, settle down there, girly." His voice was rough like sandpaper, warm breath huffing against her pointed ears. His commands went unheeded. Alarmed, Mahariel struggled even harder, whipping her head around in every direction.
"Let go of her!" Tamlen exclaimed, mirroring his friend's movements. He faired a little better, managing to elbow his attacker in stomach. The man loosened his group with a pained 'oof', and Tamlen shook himself loose with a violent jerk. Now free, he rushed forward toward Mahariel, eyes trained on her captor.
"I said, settle down," the burly man repeated to her again, this time more forcefully. All pleasantness evaporated from his tone, the words coming out as an angry hiss. Firana ignored him initially, trying with all of her might to break free. It wasn't until the cool caress of sharpened steel pressed against her neck that she ceased her movements. Holding a blade to her neck, the man smiled. "See now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Tamlen snarled at the man, clenching his fists in murderous rage. "You shemlen —"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the other man interrupted, halting the older elf in his tracks. His tone was even but filled with malice as he stepped toward him. "You take one more step, and your friend there's gonna be breathing through her jugular."
His body froze, eyes widening with fear. The burly man pressed harder to prove his point, digging his knife even harder against her neck. Mahariel squeaked, going stiff as a statue at the feel of metal on her skin. Seeing no way out, the older elf was forced to admit defeat. "What do you want, shem?"
The other man placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We want you to come with us."
He scowled but said nothing further. Though young and inexperienced, Tamlen wasn't stupid. He knew that there was no way out of this. He was unarmed and too weak to fight them. He wouldn't be able to get through one of them, let alone two, and any movement he made put Mahariel at risk. The burly man could slit her throat if he had a mind to, and in a single incorrect motion, she would be on the ground, slowly drowning in her own blood. They had no choice but to obey.
Sensing the two were ready to cooperate, the burly man addressed his skinnier comrade. "They must be Dalish."
"I dunno," the smaller man replied. "They don't look Dalish to me. Don't have them markings on their face. Could be from Denerim."
"The hell would a city elf be doing all the way out here, eh?"
"Hmph… got a point."
The two men continued their conversation, clearly trying to figure out their next course of action. Tamlen remained quiet and still, listening carefully to their discussion. Whatever it was they needed them for, apparently their heritage was relevant. That knowledge only made the situation that much worse. In front of him, Mahariel remained frozen, watching him with a cloudy gaze. There was something in that look that concerned him, recognizing the expression all too well. He could practically see the gears turning in her brain as her eyes flicked away from him, toward the burly man, to the ground, and back again. Firana only got that look when she was up to something. He subtly nodded his head, steeling himself for whatever she was planning.
"Alright, you two, get a move on. We're going on a little trip," the burly man commanded. The smaller man nudged Tamlen forward, urging him to move. Looking over his shoulder, he complied, keeping a very close eye on his younger companion. Satisfied with her compliance, her captor lowered her to the ground, slowly sheathing his knife as he pushed her forward. A big mistake.
Mahariel grunted and stumbled forward, toppling to her knees. Her body trembled as she flexed her fingers in the dirt below. Tamlen followed her movements, eyes growing wide with realization. The burly man scoffed, leaning down to grab her by the shoulder. An even bigger mistake. "Get moving, kid. We don't got all —"
Seeing her chance, Firana turned, gripping a large stone in her right hand. Turning, she surged upward, driving her left fist into his groin. When the man doubled over in startled shock, she swung, clocking him over the head with the other. With a pained grunt, the man stumbled to the side, catching his body with an outstretched hand.
"Oy!" The skinnier man reached forward, but Tamlen was already moving. Grabbing her hand, he bolted for the trees with Mahariel following closely behind. The sound of heavy footsteps sounded from behind them as the men pursued, crunching through the brush like a pair of angry giants. She ran as fast as she could, but her smaller strides couldn't keep up with Tamlen's longer ones. Within less than a minute, she was captured again, the burly man sparing no force this time. Their hands came apart as she was yanked backward, dragged away by her hair.
"You're gonna regret that, you little shit."
Tamlen turned back to help her, only to come face to face with the other man, reaching toward him. His eyes darted back and forth between him and his friend, his mind reeling. Firana was already captured and if they caught him again, that would be the end of them both. He couldn't fight them, but the warriors could. They weren't too much farther from the camp. Tamlen just had to reach them and call for help. Thinking quickly, he reached down and grasped a handful of gravely forest dirt, hurling it into the smaller man's eyes. Then, he turned, rushing into the trees as his captor screeched in surprise. He stumbled blindly after him, tripping over a tree root and crashing into the bush. He rubbed violently at his eyes to clear them… and when they finally opened, Tamlen was gone.
. . .
The Dalish encampment was bustling with activity when the young elf returned. Marethari was discussing something with Merrill regarding the intricacies of Arcane Bolt and Paivel was standing by the fire, imparting wisdom to the younger members of the clan. Ashalle was close by, gathering food from the cooking pot, and handing it out to those who passed. At the sound of hurried footsteps, she looked up with a pleasant grin. A smile that turned immediately into a frown, followed by a panicked gasp as Tamlen started shouting. Her ladle fell to the ground with a quiet thump at the sound of his words.
Within moments, the clan was in an uproar, with elves gathering their weapons and supplies. It took less than four minutes for the Dalish to mobilize. Scouters ran ahead after young Tamlen into the forest, with hunters and warriors following close behind. Using his marker, he was able to lead them back to the area he fled. But they were already too late. By the time they returned to the small clearing, weapons in hand, both Mahariel and the two men were nowhere to be found.
