Might be another week-ish until the next update. My editor has some shit going on, and I am crawling my way through Halamshiral's many, many cutscenes. I seriously cannot wait until I finish that section.

Inspiration

Valammar was unexpectedly beautiful - or at least it would have been, had there been fewer Carta members and darkspawn trying to kill us.

Built in a hollowed-out fissure in the foothills of the Frostbacks, enough sunlight filtered into the outpost to support an abundance of plant life, which softened the harsh dwarven architecture and lent it an unexpected richness. At least, that was what I gathered from peering closely at individual pieces of worked stone - statues, railings, pillars, and whatever portion of the building facades were visible to me at any given time. Solas assured me, when I asked - my voice somewhat wistful - that the overall effect was likely more enchanting than the small portions I was capable of taking in.

Not that we had a lot of time to appreciate it on the way in.

It was ironic, but the darkspawn posed considerably less threat to us than the Carta dwarves, owing to the fact that I could actually see darkspawn. I stood in the back of our group as we took on the dwarves, maintaining as many barriers as I could, but little else. I was frustrated, but only three of the enemies in the first group we encountered were wearing anything enchanted, and they were swiftly killed as I placed them in Cassandra's path. After that, squint as I might, I could only make out uncertain areas of motion - nothing nearly precise enough for my Fade-shifting ability.

That was true, at least, until halfway through the battle, when a simple illumination spell abruptly appeared on the battlefield, bearing Vivienne's signature. "Sera!" she called out. "Watch the rogue I marked!"

Concerned by Vivienne's words, I plucked Sera from her position and brought her next to me, and then used the spell Vivienne had cast to gather up the dwarf it was attached to, dropping him near Blackwall. "Thanks," Sera gasped next to me. "Sneaky fuckers got in behind our heavies. Using alchemy shit - real good alchemy shit."

"We'll see if Varric can get you the recipe," I promised, my mind turning over possibilities. "Mages!" I called. "Mark any of the rogues you find - light or something simple!"

"Why stop at the rogues?" Dorian yelled back, and abruptly there were five cantrips for refreshing clothing attached to five different dwarves. Two more illumination spells from Vivienne followed, along with a cooling spell I had seen Solas use on soup.

I chuckled and began rounding up the newly-visible enemies, bringing them out from behind cover where the heavily-armored members of the team could reach them more easily.

The fight was still more complicated than most of those we engaged in - their rogues were extremely effective, though it was easier for the rest of the party to hunt their telltale shimmer of movement when they weren't ducking arrows and sword-swings from visible combatants. There was really nothing I could do about them until someone else spotted one, and even then casting a cantrip could take a precious moment too long. It was usually better for someone nearby to simply stab at or shoot the enemy.

Blackwall had a dagger slice into his shoulder and Dorian ended up with a long but shallow cut across his ribs. These were, thankfully, fairly simple wounds to tend to, especially since I was capable of seeing to Dorian while Solas focused on Blackwall's more serious wound.

There were a few more Carta rogues waiting around various corners, but we moved cautiously and managed to catch each of them before they could do much damage.

We . Of course I didn't help in the least, other than trying to maintain barriers.

Though we could hear fighting on the lower levels of the outpost, the presence of enemies attempting to hide long enough to fall on us from behind meant that we had to clear out every room, one by one, as we progressed. By the time we found the fight, it was nearly over. There were three darkspawn facing off against some number of Carta dwarves, and it was our turn to fall on someone from behind. I made short work of the darkspawn, and the others took the dwarves. Inside the final, locked room, we found a shipment of red lyrium waiting. "Completely unshielded," Varric muttered in disgust. "Has to be a splinter faction - Carta isn't usually this sloppy. Good way to lose product."

"I'm learning so much about the running of criminal organizations," I told him as I considered what to do with the lyrium.

"Well, pay attention - a criminal organization isn't much different from any other organization, Vanish," he replied. "You might learn something useful."

"Don't sully our precious Inquisitor's ears with your crass dwarven profiteering!" Dorian gasped in mock-horror.

I laughed. "Given the perpetual state of the Inquisition's finances - please sully my precious ears with your crass dwarven profiteering."

"Ah, I see, my mistake," Dorian said serenely. "As long as it's consensual - carry on, then."

"The lyrium," Solas reminded us.

"I haven't forgotten," I reassured him. "I was just considering options. Let's trap the entire room. Put fire glyphs around the crates so that if anyone gets too close, they'll at least make the lyrium unusable - possibly destroy it. Mundane traps further out, ice around the door - that should serve as sufficient warning. We'll call for a contingent of mages from Skyhold to layer barriers and see how hot it needs to burn to cleanse it, and have a crate commissioned from the dragon bone we retrieved to see how well it can be shielded." I paused thoughtfully. "Varric, how quickly could you have dwarves you trust on site? I'm willing to save some if there's someone to work on cleansing it by other means, but I don't want to hold it for too long. Even shielded."

"Could have someone here before the mages, probably, but that won't do much good without mages to untangle your glyphs," Varric replied.

"I wouldn't mind having someone on guard before the mages arrive," I told him.

"That's a good point. All right - if we're headed back to the Crossroads, I'll send some letters tonight."

We set our traps and retreated back to the upper levels, heading for the exit. I paused on the final bridge, though, looking out over the blurred, largely-undifferentiated panorama of greys and greens, and heaved a sigh. "You know, if there were a rift here, I would be very tempted to tear it open long enough to see some of this place."

Behind me, Cassandra laughed. "I suppose it is just as well there isn't a rift, then," she said. "No need to fight temptation."

I turned and made a face in her general direction, and we left Valammar behind.

The walk back to the Crossroads was accomplished in reasonably good spirits: Varric and Cassandra discussing whether Hawke would sign her copy of The Tale of the Champion; Dorian and Vivienne entertaining themselves insulting Antiva; Bull making plans to buy Cole a prostitute, which I was fairly certain wasn't going to end the way the Qunari thought it would; and Sera telling Blackwall about her plan to seduce a nobleman for reasons that were clear only to her. Solas walked beside me, lost in thought, but I could tell they were pleasant thoughts, and so I amused myself listening to the others and didn't interrupt.

It was Sera who called him from his abstraction. She belched loudly and then glanced back over her shoulder at us. "Hey, Solas - how do you say excuse me in Elven or whatever?"

He blinked. "For you," he told her, "it would be ara seranna'ma. It is a coincidence that your name is within; the base form is common."

"Thanks," she replied impudently. "Now when I don't say it, you'll know it's on purpose."

Solas sighed in his usual put-upon manner, and I shook my head, even though I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "You know," I told him in an undertone, "I'll bet I could get her to learn some Elvish words and phrases."

Solas glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "And how would you do that?" he asked.

I grinned, realizing I finally had something worth making a wager on. "Bet you a royal that I can," I challenged him.

"Very well," he agreed after a moment spent studying me, his eyes alight with playful interest. "I'm curious to see your strategy."

It was the sort of thing he should have thought of himself - and probably would have, had it not been so wholly childish.

I waited until after dinner. Sera, as usual, began to grow restless as the evening progressed, and that was when I struck, knowing she would want something to capture her attention. I sat down next to her at the fire. "You know," I told her, "Elvish isn't all the pretty stuff Solas keeps throwing at you. It has some pretty good insults and swear words. I'll teach you some if you want."

"Why would I want that?" she demanded, though I could tell I had caught her interest at least slightly. "I got lots of words, and people actually know what they mean ."

"Solas would know what they meant," I pointed out. "I just thought you might have fun insulting him in his own language. Or me. Or any other 'elfy-elves' you happened to be angry at."

Her eyes widened slightly, her lips twitching as I saw her imagining it. "Well - what have you got? Don't want nothing boring, like 'tree-humper' or whatever."

"There's lasa adahlen su nar masa, which is 'shove a forest up your ass,'" I offered, "but I think that's the nearest there is to 'tree-humper.'"

She was grinning. "All right, not bad. What else?"

"You know the word Solas says when he gets upset? Fenedhis? That means 'wolf cock,'" I told her. "When you made him angry the last time he tried to speak Elvish to you, his reply was fenedhis lasa, which basically means 'shove a wolf cock,' though it's usually interpreted as 'fellate a wolf cock.'"

She cackled gleefully. "Didn't think His Elfiness had it in him. What else?"

"Nuva banalhan'iovro av na, i melahn'an dal mar'lethal i sule'etunal na es'var liman. That means: 'May a Blighted bear eat you, and then kill your clan by shitting you into their water.'"

"Oof. Good, but takes too long, yeah? Too many words," she informed me, making a face.

I spent a moment reflecting. "Pala dahn'in - 'go fuck a beehive,'" I proposed.

She froze, her eyes going big and round. "Yeah," she said with the kind of fervor I usually heard reserved for religion. "Yeah - that one. Say it again."

"Pala dahn'in," I repeated.

She repeated it to herself a few times, lips moving silently. "Hey Solas," she called when she felt she had it, "pala dahn'in."

His first reaction was surprise, perhaps at her accent, which was admittedly terrible - an emotion I identified through our bond and not his expression, of course. Then he heaved another of his exasperated sighs, audible even across the fire.

"Well, he owes me a royal," I said - and only then realized Sera might be offended by the wager. "I bet him that I could find an Elvish phrase or two that you actually wanted to learn," I explained, my tone slightly apologetic.

She stared at me for a moment, and I began to worry - but then threw her head back, crowing with delighted laughter. "Droopy got hustled by his own girlfriend!"

"Not really," I told her, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't know it would work - just strongly suspected."

"Coulda told me - I woulda helped," she said, nudging me with her shoulder.

"No, I wanted to win it fairly," I insisted.

"Well, that's why you never win against Varric," she told me, rolling her eyes.

"Now, Buttercup," Varric said from somewhere near Solas, apparently having overheard, "I don't always cheat - that would imply I cared, and once you start caring about things, everyone wants to take advantage of it. I mean, look how much I care about Hawke and how that turned out."

"Varric," Cassandra said, her tone a warning.

"You write one book about your friend, and the next thing you know, you've got a Seeker stabbing a knife in it while she threatens to cut you into little pieces."

"I never said that," Cassandra protested.

"It was strongly implied," Varric retorted.

"Eugh, are you complaining about this again?" Sera interrupted, cutting off the rest of the argument that was likely brewing. "Just, like, kiss already, yeah? Or... pala dahn'in. That means 'go fuck a beehive,' and it's what I think you should do instead of bothering me."

"Sure, I'll take that under advisement, Buttercup," Varric replied easily.

Sera looked at me. "Right. Do dwarves have a language? Think I need to learn something in that."

"Sera, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a dwarf," I chuckled.

She turned her attention elsewhere, and I guessed she was staring Varric down when he also laughed and said, "I'm not telling you a thing, Buttercup. You barely speak recognizable Common. I hate to think how you're mangling Elvish, or how you would mangle any other languages you tried."

She stood up abruptly. "Need a dwarf. Oi!" she said more loudly. "Need a dwarf! Any proper dwarves in the Inquisition?"

Across the fire, Varric was still laughing.