Chapter 26: Restless
Alim couldn't sleep.
No matter how much he tossed and turned, he simply could not get comfortable. His arm still throbbed, he had healed the bone sure, but the muscles were still enflamed.
Plus, there was the growling in his stomach. He had eaten shortly after the proving, but it seemed that he was hungry…again.
The elven mage cursed under his breath, Alistair had warned him about this of course, but that did not make it any easier to bear.
He wanted sleep, would likely need it to, but it seemed that he would not be getting any until he tended to the needs of his body.
He threw off the sheets, pulling on his shirt and trousers.
Bandit glanced up at him sleepily; the dog gave a big yawn and started to rise.
"I'm just heading to the larder, Bandit," he informed the dog, "You can stay here and rest if you want, I doubt anyone would try to attack me here."
The dog considered his options, he lay back down with a sleepy groan, it seemed that not even the chance of table scraps would be enough to tempt him this time.
Alim shook his head, dozy dog.
IOI
The Lights had been dimmed in the halls of the warden compound. They did not have night here in Orzammar, cut off from the sky as it were, but it was still the time of the dwarves sleep cycle.
Alim padded down the hallway, wishing he thought to grab a pair of socks or slippers. The stone was cold on his bare feet.
He was surprised to find Sten standing in the hallway, still armed and fully armored. The large Qunari was staring intently at a tapestry; it depicted some great battle in the wardens' past.
"Can't sleep?" Alim asked him.
"I was on watch," Sten informed him, "Even here, we are surrounded by enemies."
Alim nodded, it was true, he had not made any friends with the Prince by supporting Lord Harrowmont so openly.
Tomorrow, he hoped to change that.
He came up to stand beside the massive warrior, Alim was short to most, but he was downright tiny next to the massive Qunari.
Damn dark skinned giant!
"Interesting," the Qunari said thoughtfully.
"What is?" Alim asked with a twitch of his ears.
"This is well done," Sten said, pointing to the tapestry, "The use of color to imply shade and shadow. It provides a sense of depth and contrast, I have not seen in other examples of art in your lands."
Alim was shocked.
He had no idea the Qunari liked art.
"Do…do you make art yourself?" Alim asked, it sounded ridiculous, he could not see the massive warrior as an artist.
"I don't see you sculpting clay Sten," he said with an amused smirk, "or drawing a brush across a canvass."
Sten snorted.
"The battlefield is my canvass, elf, the sword my brush," the Qunari bowed his head, he seemed almost…regretful.
"But I can appreciate beauty when I see it," he said thoughtfully.
Alim nodded, it seemed that their large friend was deeper than any of them thought.
"What of you?" Sten asked.
"Me?"
"Yes, do you care for anything, besides magic and steel?"
Alim considered this, he never saw himself as a lover of combat. Between his studies in the circle, and what he had gained from that ancient Stormbreaker's memories, he had become quite the battle mage.
But was that all there was?
The Qunari asked an interesting question.
Was there anything but battle that interested him now?
"My Mother taught me music," he informed the Qunari, "She…that was what she did at the Bann's estate. She was teaching me to play the flute when I was little."
"Do you still play?" Sten asked.
"No," Alim said flatly, "That was a long time ago, and there was no such place for it in the circle."
"A shame," the Qunari said.
Alim gave him a look.
"It is not weakness to seek out release beyond the fields of battle," Sten said sagely, "Find comfort in your duty to your people, but do not fear to seek out something for yourself as well. The Qun does not forbid such things, as long as it does not affect your duty."
Now Alim could not hide the shock on his face, it was too easy to see Sten as a walking, talking, battering ram.
It seemed that the old warrior knew more than he let on.
"Gus has relieved me for the night," Sten informed him, "I shall see you in the dawn."
Alim nodded, as the huge warrior returned to his room.
He still found himself surprised by that conversation, there was clearly more to Sten than what met the eye.
The growl in his stomach drew him on; an empty stomach did not go well with thought.
Food first, thought later.
He continued down the hall, nearly colliding with Shale. The golem was staring at one of the griffon statues.
If Shale started spouting off about art now…I'm going to start laughing.
The golem continued to glare at the statue.
"Shale?" Alim asked.
"Did you hear it?" the golem asked.
"Hear what?"
"The sound of flapping wings, these…these winged vermin is pretending, I think they move when we are not watching them. I will catch them, it will mark my words. One flap, one squawk…and I will crush them into powder."
Alim was not sure how to respond to that.
He slipped past the golem, leaving it to its mission.
It seems that they were still full of crazy, and likely getting worse all the time.
Alim shook his head; couldn't his companions keep their crazy in check until he had his snack?
That would be nice.
IOI
It took Alim a bit to find the larder; he ended up asking one of the dwarven servants. It amazed him that they maintained the estate considering how few wardens were here right now.
He also found himself wondering how many were spies for Bhelen and Harrowmont.
Quite a few he would wager.
He was surprised to find both Alistair and Zevran waiting for him.
The elf snorted.
Did no one sleep anymore?
"Ah my dear warden," Zevran said bowing, "We were just having a late night meal, would you care to join us?"
Alim sat, he nodded in greetings. Alistair was helping himself to the bread and several slices of cheese. Zevran had chosen some left over nug fillet from dinner.
Alim scooped up some bread and a slice of cheese for himself.
He murmured a spell, flames licked from his fingers, melting the cheese, and toasting the bread.
The smell of food filled the kitchen with mouthwatering aromas.
Alistair was giving Alim a look.
"What?" the elf said.
"You should not use magic like that," he responded.
Alim rolled his eyes.
"Don't be such a Templar Ali," he snorted, "Magic is meant to serve, tonight, it serves me a warm snack."
Zevran snickered.
Alistair looked chagrined.
"Don't suppose you could heat mine?" he asked.
Alim grinned.
"Careful Ali," he snickered, "You might find yourself a thrall to the evil food cooking spell."
"Okay you made your point," the former Templar snorted, "You can be a real smart ass, you know that right Lim?"
"And I'm proud of that," he smirked, "Of course you are right; if the first Enchanter saw me casting that he would be very grumpy. Of Course, that is the advantage of me being here, and him being in Kinloch Hold."
For a while the three ate in silence, but then Alim caught Zevran watching him.
Yes?" he asked.
The Assassin smiled.
"I have heard many stories about the circles my dear warden," he said conversationally, "I was wondering if you could sate my curiosity?"
"I'm sure you have heard stories," Alim said dryly, "People love to talk about what we do locked in our circles, and no…it is not as racy as the perverts like to believe."
"A pity," Zevran replied.
"What about you Zevran," Alim asked, "Why are you up so late, you do not suffer from the same annoying hunger that Alistair and I have."
"I never sleep easily Warden," the assassin replied.
"Guilty conscience?" Alistair asked.
Alim shot his brother a look.
"Of course not dear Alistair," Zevran smirked, "I sleep the sleep of the just and righteous. My targets have all done something to deserve their fates; most of them…had it coming. No, I refer to the fact that I do not sleep well in a strange bed."
He grinned lecherously.
"Not alone anyway," he added.
Alim laughed.
"I doubt that Morrigan and Leliana would be interested Zevran," he said.
"I'm not picky about my pleasures warden, and I'm always willing to help someone…jump the border so to speak."
Alim frowned.
Zevran's smile widened.
"What about you Alistair," he asked, "You interested in jumping the border?"
"I've never been out of Ferelden, truth be told he answered.
Alim coughed, Ali clearly did not get Zev's meaning.
"What of you Alim," the assassin asked.
The elf mage smiled.
"Sorry Zevran, my door does not swing that way."
"A pity," the assassin replied.
"I just missed something didn't I?" Alistair asked.
"Be grateful," Alim answered him, popping the last of his bread into his mouth.
"Tis a dinner party and no one thought to invite me."
Alim turned at the sound of Morrigan's voice.
He nearly choked on his meal.
The witch was a vision, her long black hair was down, it fell silkily to the middle of her back, she wore nothing but a dwarven robe, and it left her legs bare almost to the lovely curve of her behind. She wore the robe open, showing off her flat belly and the swell of her bosom.
Alim blushed, and Zevran eyed the woman hungrily.
Alistair gave her cool look.
"We thought you did not wish to be disturbed."
The witch gave him a lazy, sexy smile.
Alim and Zev both felt their hormone kick into overdrive.
"Just a piece of fruit I think," the witch said considering.
She plucked an apple from the larder; her lips teased the skin of it before taking her first bite.
Alim felt his throat go dry.
"Never thought I would ever want to be an apple," Zev mumbled.
Alim nodded dumbly.
"Good evening," the witch smirked; she sauntered lazily out of the room.
Alim finally found his breath.
"Good riddance," Alistair said coldly.
Alim's eyes widened.
"Oh come on Ali!" he said loudly, "Don't tell me that you did not see that!? Don't tell me that you did not find that… the least bit arousing?"
"See what?" the former Templar said.
Both elves sighed, was he really so clueless.
"Our dear Morrigan was peacocking for you Alistair," Zev chuckled, "I think she desires someone to keep her warm at night. I would say…that you have caught her eye."
Alistair looked at the two elves like they had both gone mad.
"This…this is Morrigan we are talking about," he said, "You both remember that right, the complete and utter bitch?"
"If she is dear Alistair," Zev smirked, "I would say that this particular bitch…is in heat. You Fereldan's know about such things, yes?"
"I would," Alim said dryly, "Being a kennel master's son did have some advantages."
Alistair blushed.
"She…I…we could never do that! I could never do that, not with her anyway."
"I think you protest too much Alistair," Alim smirked, "She has been watching you since we left the wilds."
"Looking to turn me into a toad maybe," the former Templar responded, his voice unusually high.
Zevran chuckled.
"Think back to your previous lovers my dear Alistair," he said, "Did they not also play games to get your attention?"
And the mention of previous lovers, Alistair turned crimson.
"Ali?" Alim asked.
"I got to go," he said quickly, "Have a goodnight everyone."
"Ali?"
The former Templar fled without another word.
Alim's ears twitched with confusion.
What had that been about?
"What was that about?" Alim asked Zevran.
The assassin shrugged.
"You know what this means," he asked the elven mage.
Alim shrugged.
"More food for us of course," Zevran grinned.
Alim laughed.
He had learned one thing since joining the order.
More food…was always a good thing.