The Vagrant
By Pyreite
Sequel to: The Trickster Returns
"The strap needs to be tighter".
Ellana slid her thumb under the buckle, delicately loosening the harness. A nimble flick of her wrist sent the silverite prong sliding home into a well-worn leather hole. Ellana smirked. Abelas worried too much. She was perfectly capable of caring for herself.
"I have had this arm for five centuries, Abelas", teased Ellana. "I can put it on and take it off more easily than you can don your shiny silver breeches".
She leered at his muscular thighs. The glistening hose overlaid in gilded leather left little to the imagination. Ancient elven fashion was scandalous at best, and uncomfortable at worst. Ellana was still unsure how Abelas managed to fit inside something so tight. The way she grimaced in sympathy told him exactly what she was thinking.
"How are your balls not crushed when you walk?"
Abelas was stern by nature, but had a wonderfully dry sense of humour. He took her question in stride as he did everything else that roused her curiosity. Ellana still had the impatience of youth despite attaining her fifth century. Age had not (much to Abelas's constant amusement) granted her a wealth of maturity.
"Lest I remind you, Lethallan", he reproved. "My armour is worn for protection not for show".
Ellana rolled her eyes. Abelas could be annoyingly secretive. A simple question did not guarantee an answer. "Yes. I know", drawled Ellana. "But something that constricting can't be comfortable to wear". Her expectant look was met with serene nonchalance.
"Your concern for the welfare of my testicles", said Abelas. "Is both perturbing and highly inappropriate".
Ellana groaned. The sentinel's sense of propriety was terribly old-fashioned. The Dalish, while conservative, did not have the inhibitions of their city-dwelling kin. Sex and reproduction, like birth and childrearing, were accepted facets of life. Ellana was used to frank honesty not puritanic staidness when it came to discussing the birds and the bees.
Abelas's generation had some very odd ideas.
"Are they warm and snug at least?" quipped Ellana. She grinned crookedly when Abelas regarded her with cool solemnity. His eyes glinted like gold sovereigns. He didn't need to tell her what he was thinking. The disapproval was written clear as day upon his fair elven face.
"Very", replied Abelas. His tone drier than a desert full of sand. The casual nod to her formfitting bodice amused Ellana. The leather was dyed neutral shades of green and brown, subtly reflecting the colours of the forest. Ellana was patient when Abelas scrutinised her chest.
"Now I have a question for you, Da'len".
The way his silver brows furrowed revealed his confusion. Abelas was ignorant of the everyday challenges faced by the fairer gender. The lack of baggage upstairs certainly made his life simpler. Ellana was ready when he asked his question, though she still blushed to the tips of her pointed ears. The Dalish were less inhibited, it was true, but their men also had an uncanny sixth sense.
They knew when not to poke their noses into a woman's business.
The ancients elves had less tact.
"How can you breathe", Abelas wondered aloud. "With your bosom so tightly bound?"
Ellana took the question in stride as she did everything else that confounded him. Dalish women were more pragmatic than their ancient brethren. Ellana had no use for velveteen robes, sheer chemise, and silk petticoats. She favoured suede, dragon scale, and silverite fashioned into durable lightweight armour. The design was foreign to Abelas, the fit strange, but even he could appreciate its effectiveness.
Ellana had adequate protection without being overburdened. Her proficiency with bow and blade was still unrivalled. Five centuries had dulled neither her tongue nor the cutting edge of her daggers. Abelas braced himself for the lash of her displeasure. He was surprised when Ellana's eyes twinkled merrily.
She was pleased by his candidness.
"Lest I remind you, Lethallin", remarked Ellana. "My armour provides protection and support for my delicate woman-bits. Top and bottom".
"Clearly", replied Abelas. "I am surprised you did not take offence".
Ellana smirked. She regarded him as if he were adorably sweet and ignorant. "Oh, Abelas", she soothed. "You may be older than dirt, but you're still as innocent as a newborn fawn". She gently patted his cheek as if she were comforting a child.
"I'm Dalish not a prude", Ellana reminded him. "I'll blush when you ask me so blunt a question, but I won't growl at you for being curious". She winked. "You share my food, my home, and my furs. How could I find your interest anything other than flattering?"
Ellana smiled when she caught him staring. His methodical consideration of the stitching reinforcing her bodice incited laughter. Ellana caught his face in the palm of her hand when he boldly stepped forward. She gave Abelas a playful shove. He rocked back on his heels, but didn't lose his footing. Ellana patted the prosthesis strapped to her left arm.
"Would you look at the harness?", she asked him. "Something doesn't feel right".
Abelas nodded sagaciously. His focus shifting with ease. "Of course, Da'len". He nodded with due seriousness, bending to the task at hand. Nimble fingers slid up and over Ellana's shoulder, tugging on dragon scale straps, and testing silverite buckles.
Ellana was patient until Abelas touched the runes engraved into silverite plates.
The spark of his magic enkindled the enchantments. Ellana gasped when her arm writhed like a living thing. Fingers forged from silverite flexed. A wrist encased in dragon scale twisted. The elbow studded with silverite bolts bent like an oiled hinge.
"Abelas!"
Ellana winced when the prosthetic hand curled into a fist. Metal ground against metal, spitting sparks. Ellana was wary when that hand turned towards her of its own accord. She grasped the wrist with her living hand, fingers straining to hold it. She heard the pop and grind of the gears inside, whirring incessantly like a buzzing bee. Ellana frowned when the fingers unfurled like the petals of a silver flower.
She gulped when she saw the symbol stamped into the palm. The open unblinking eye with lashes like rays of sunlight stared at her. Ellana felt as if she were being weighed and measured. The arm jolted and silverite fingers, long and powerful reached ever-eager. The prosthetic was stronger than her arm made from flesh, blood, and bone.
Mastering it was always a challenge.
"Focus, Da'len", advised Abelas. "It is a tool like your bow and blades". He watched her with the patience of a seasoned instructor. "An extension of your body". Abelas gently encouraged her as the fear took hold. The silverite arm shook whilst Ellana fought for control.
Metal fingers spread wide ready to ensnare.
"Take charge, Da'len!" ordered Abelas.
Ellana grunted with the effort. Magic crackled across her skin like lightening. The runes engraved into silverite plates burned with an unnatural light. The prosthetic arm may have had a will of its own, but it also had a master. The elbow creaked, the wrist jerked, and the silverite hand convulsed.
Fingers tipped with silverite talons froze an inch from a bewildered elven face.
"Fenedhis!" cursed Ellana.
Abelas gently took hold of her mechanical limb. His fingers slid trustingly between silverite digits. He was pleased when the hand curled around his own. Ellana was in control again. The process of mastering the prosthetic, Abelas could see, was no easier now than the day it was forged.
"A masterpiece of incredible design", he praised. "But the binding magic is dangerously volatile".
Ellana gently squeezed his fingers. "I know".
Abelas made a suggestion, though he knew she would disagree. "If you would entrust it to the College of Alchemy. I am certain improvements could be made".
Ellana's response was predictable.
"No!"
"Ellana", implored Abelas. "It is unsafe".
"For you!" hissed Ellana. "Not for me!" She hastily released his hand as if she'd been holding a hot coal. She ignored the contrite look upon his face. Abelas was only trying to help, but his proposal was unthinkable.
"You know who designed, built, and enchanted this for me", growled Ellana.
"I do", admitted Abelas.
Ellana refused to look at him. She busied herself by testing the prosthetic arm's range of motion. Silverite fingers flexed. The wrist rotated like a well-oiled cog. The elbow smoothly bent and twisted. The mechanical limb housed a complex arrangement of pistons, wheels, and wires.
It was one of a kind. Made to fit one person. The only example of a magically-augmented piece of engineering in existence. The concept was ingenious. The execution exceptional, for an invention that was not an innovation of the Elvhen.
"To think that a durgen'len conceived the idea", praised Abelas. "And adapted it to include magical enhancement is humbling".
Ellana scowled. She detested the arrogance of the ancient elves. Abelas was more open-minded than Solas, but he was still a product of his generation. Ellana found his comment distressing, especially when it implied that dwarves were inferior. She had learned from experience that having pointed ears did not make a person clever or cunning.
"That durgen'len was my friend!" snarled Ellana.
She was furious.
"Ir abelas, Da'len", replied Abelas. "My comment was thoughtless".
His apology did not appease Ellana. She shrugged him off when he tried to grasp her shoulder. Abelas meant well, but his attitude was vexing. Ellana did not take kindly to others thinking less of the dead. She brushed passed Abelas to fetch her bow, blades, and quiver. She walked briskly to the hut they shared, slipping inside like a shadow.
Abelas sighed regretfully. He was worried when Ellana emerged moments later. The strap of her quiver, full to the brim, rode her right shoulder. The arc of her bow was visible over her left. She intended to go into the forest alone. Abelas thought her reckless not wise.
The forest was dangerous.
"Da'len!"
Ellana cut him off. Her expression thunderous. "Race has nothing to do with intelligence!" declared Ellana. "Having pointed ears doesn't make you or I better than anyone else!" She glared at Abelas.
The anger burning bright.
"Dagna was smart, talented, and dedicated to her craft!" defended Ellana. "Without being arrogant like those bastards in your College of Alchemy!" She extended her left arm to show him the fruits of Dagna's labour. The elbow, forearm, and wrist were sheathed in sturdy dragon scale. The hand, left bare from wrist to fingertip, gleamed silver in the sunlight.
Ellana's fingers unfurled to reveal the unblinking eye stamped into her silverite palm. "She was unselfish, kind, and forgiving just like Dorian, Varric, Vivienne, The Iron Bull, Cullen, and Cassandra". Ellana lowered her hand. "They helped Dagna craft this arm for me". She shook her head disapprovingly.
"To malign her efforts is to insult their memories", Ellana reminded him. "And to offend me".
"Ir abelas, Ellana!" insisted Abelas. His face, like a mirror, reflected his contrition. He hadn't meant to cause upset. The way Ellana's expression darkened, like the moon eclipsing the sun, made him realise how deep the pain went. She was worse than angry.
She was grieving.
Abelas saw how Ellana's eyes glistened. His heart was heavy when a single tear slid down her cheek. The hasty swipe of a silver thumb erased its existence. Abelas tried to reason with her. Ellana could be rash when she was enraged.
"Forgive me, vhenan", said Abelas. He realised his mistake when Ellana tensed like a startled rabbit. The way she regarded him sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine. Her wide and disbelieving eyes revealed more than vulnerability. An unconscious slip of the tongue had made her fearful.
"Fenedhis!" swore Abelas. He had not intended for her to discover the truth. The attraction was mutual, the affection sincere, but Ellana wasn't ready for marriage or children. Solas had broken her heart. Even after five hundred years, she was far from mended.
"Ellana!" implored Abelas. "Wait!" He strode forward, trying to catch her arm. He cursed when she dodged. Ellana was fleet-footed like the Halla, sidestepping nimbly to avoid his grasping fingers. A wild lunge ended in disaster when she vanished.
"Ellana!" roared Abelas.
She called to him from the trees. Her accusation chilling him to the bone.
"Ma harel lasa!"
"Tel'abelas!" cried Abelas. "Ma emma lath!"
They had been friends and lovers for centuries, but had never crossed that final hurdle.
The realisation that Abelas loved her as Solas had loved her was overwhelming.
Ellana fled into the woods. She leapt gnarled roots. She ducked under low-hanging branches. Her heedless flight spooked birds from their roosts and rabbits from their burrows. Ellana ran until her lungs burned and her chest heaved. She stumbled when a shadow, glimpsed out of the corner of her eye, passed close enough to be a threat.
Ellana pivoted on the balls of her feet. Her hands, flesh and silverite, took swift hold of her weapons. She had an arrow nocked and the bowstring drawn before her adversary could move a paw. Ellana stared down the shaft of her arrow into eyes grey like storm-clouds. A wolf, black as midnight, regarded her solemnly.
"Ar'vallem ma ghilas", warned Ellana.
Her brows furrowed when the beast boldly loped forward. She let the arrow fly. It whizzed through the air, landing on her mark with deadly accuracy. Ellana reached over her shoulder to the quiver strapped across her back. A second arrow replaced the first, its steel-tipped head aligned with her target.
The wolf whined. The arrow, fletched in white, was buried two inches deep in fertile soil. Ellana's aim was true. The wolf dared not move. The first arrow had planted itself squarely between its forepaws.
The second would land between its eyes.
"Ar'din nuvenin na'din", said Ellana.
She had no desire to slay the beast. Wolves were a necessary part of the cycle of life inside her woodland home. Ellana understood and respected their role, even if she lost a handful of Halla does and fawns each year. The herd survived season after season always stronger than before. Ellana did not kill for sport, but she would make an exception for unforeseen dangers.
This wolf was not a member of the local wolfpack.
He was a vagrant.
Elvish Translations: Courtesy of the Dragon Age Wiki – Elven Language.
Da'len – Little one.
Fenedhis – An elven curse, likely translated to 'wolf crap' or similar.
Durgen'len – Child of the Stone aka a dwarf.
Ir abelas – I am sorry.
Abelas – Sorrow.
Vhenan – Heart.
Ma harel lasa – You lied to me.
Tel'abelas – I am not sorry
Ma emma lath – You are my love.
Ar'vallem ma ghilas – I bid you to depart.
Ar'din nuvenin na'din – I don't want to kill you.