Arcane Warrior

Chapter 13

The Cold Embrace of the Dalish

Alim had kept them on the imperial highway until just before dark, the group making the journey in blessed silence. That was not to say that they did not have much to say to one another. Leliana, in particular, was bursting with questions for her new companions.

Indeed, the only noise to accompany them on their trek was Hohaku's barking and huffing as he wove his way through the group's legs, the mabari's mood seemed irrepressibly bright and cheery unlike the rest of the group.

With the full gravity of the situation in which they found themselves finally sank in, no one could find it in themselves to fill the ensuing silence with banal chatter.

As day turned to dusk, the seemingly unchanging highway gave way at one side to a gentle slope leading into the Brecilian Forest, and Alim wordlessly led the group down the path into the dark forest. Thankfully the journey from their camp outside Lothering to the edge of the Brecilian Forest had taken them all of a day, such was the usefulness of the highway, the sole reason that no one had tried to tear it down as had been the fate of so many of the Imperium's relics.

It had been a hard day for everyone, they had encountered another group of darkspawn only once but had to contend with bandits and highwaymen seeking to wrest anything they could from those fleeing the south a number of times, and with the exception of the qunari all of the companions were eager to rest.

This time, he set up his camp further away from the others, closer to Morrigan than to anyone else. After his earlier talk with Sten, he found himself unwilling to spend any time in his company if he did not have trusted the creature to keep his word and help fight the darkspawn, but beyond that, he wouldn't trust him further than he could throw him.

The lay sister also had him keeping his distance.

She had claimed to be no more than a servant of the maker with a history she was intentionally vague seen her fight, her way with a shortsword and dagger as well as a longbow and having seen her sneak around without the slightest of noise from her steps, and her skill at picking locks; he could not help but be suspicious of here. There was a high probability that she was a thief or mercenary of some sort who claimed sanctuary with the chantry to avoid trouble.

Other possibilities arose in his mind; she might be a spy, and the knowledge that Loghain and his men had passed through Lothering on their way north coupled with her bizarre insistence on joining them in their mission seemed to make some sense in that could be an agent of the would-be regent, left behind in Lothering to infiltrate any group that managed to survive Ostagar and knew the truth of the teyrn's actions, and serve as saboteur to bring them down before they could cause any trouble.

But perhaps she was who she said, someone who genuinely wanted to help stop the Blight. Who could say, regardless, he would need to keep her at arms-length until he could figure her out.

Alistair he could trust implicitly. Despite the man's ex-templar status, he was the only other grey warden in all of Ferelden as far as he knew, and as a fellow survivor of Ostagar, he was fully committed to the mission.

Oddly enough, he found that he could also safely place his trust in Morrigan as well. As haughty and sarcastic as she could be, she did recognize the threat the darkspawn presented and was content to follow his lead so long as he did not lead her directly to her death. He knew that she could always flee Ferelden, head further north, perhaps to Navarra where black magic like the sort she practiced was more respected, but if the Blight swallowed Ferelden, it would simply make its way there in time.

Hopefully this mistrust with his erstwhile allies would resolve itself in time. With the odds stacked against them so heavily, they could not afford to be so divided among themselves.

While he could not remember exactly when it had happened, it seemed that Bodahn, the dwarven trader and his son Sandal, had found their way into his company again. This time, however, they were more reluctant to part ways. The dwarves sought the safety he and his allies could provide, and the warden and his 'friends' sought the supplies that Bodahn could provide, and Alim was more than willing to accept that offer, and it did not hurt that the shorter man turned out to be very pleasant to talk to.

He doubted the dwarf could entertain him in a more scholarly discussion, but he was very polite and well mannered, and had a great deal of information-second hand though it was- from his travels across Ferelden.

He sighed, finding himself watching Alistair and Leliana as they started work on dinner; watching as they placed vegetables and cuts of meat into the cooking pot. He found that he did not recognize what they were making, though that was not surprising as his culinary knowledge only extended to the fancy dishes that the circle's apprentices were charged with making, apparently it was an extension of their alchemical training, learning to mix ingredients and spices in a setting where a failed mixture wasn't likely to explode.

He saw the merits of the explanation, but everyone knew it was just busy work to keep them out of trouble when not in classes.

He shook his head. He did not want to be thinking about the past right now. He needed to stay focused on the present, tantalizing as losing himself in memories of the past was, he needed to concern himself with thoughts about their quest. They needed to get their rest before meeting with the elves, and then see to the other treaties besides. Back at Ostagar Loghain had set a precedent of how the other nobles would behave towards them, dismissive of the wardens and their importance. They would be no more than a man and an elf, no more capable of stopping the Blight than anyone, they would need to prove that the wardens were more than just a fallen order clinging to legitimacy with scraps of paper and empty promises.

He needed commitment of at least one of the factions who had signed if he could not secure the aid of all. What he needed was something he could use against Loghain. He couldn't simply rely entirely on the treaties but would need to build other alliances and get as many nobles on his side as he could. Hopefully, he could gain Arl Eamon as an ally as well.

He wasn't optimistic that anyone so powerful would be willing to accept an elf as an ally, Loghain probably thought that this was over, that with the king out of the way the throne was his, that his daughter would simply step aside and give him stewardship of Ferelden, and that he could simply crush the Blight whenever he wished and everything would be intended to show him that he was wrong, that it was not that simple, and that he would pay for his treachery.

Leliana watched as Alim rose from the spot he had chosen for himself and went to speak with Morrigan.

He caught her glance and returned with an icy glare, she tried to meet his gaze as long as she could but found herself overwhelmed by the coldness in those blue eyes and turned to look back at the bubbling stew, her face burning with shame.

When he had first seen her in her traveling attire, he had stared with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. He was certainly one of the more handsome elves she had ever met, and she had gotten it in her head that he might have been stunned by her beauty and that they might come to share a closer relationship, the thought of sharing a tent with him wasn't even an unpleasant one, but it seemed she had simply been fooling herself.

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair before turning to Alistair; the ex-templar and sole other warden in the country was lost in thought, staring into the flames with sadness in his eyes.

She did not know everything that had happened at Ostagar, but she had heard enough to know that the wardens had lost many. Were any of them had been Alistair's friends or loved ones? Perhaps he had had family among them, or maybe a girl? Or a boy, perhaps, Leliana didn't know Alistair that well yet.

Leliana's heart filled with pity.

She had heard stories from the survivors from the battle that had come through Lothering, stopping to drink away their sorrows at the inn before moving on.

"Are you alright, Alistair?" she inquired, moving closer to him but staying close enough to the cooking pot that she could still tend to it comfortably.

"Huh?" he looked up startled; he had not even realized that she had still been sitting there. He must have truly been absorbed in his thoughts, sitting on the ground like this. She could not maintain her usual grace of movement. To her own ears, she was quite loud.

Leliana found herself smiling at his expression. He was rather cute when he made that surprised face. Much like a younger brother acting coy so as to not get caught after a bout of mischief or a little puppy.

"I said are you alright?" she repeated.

"I…um…I'm fine Leliana…just thinking."

"Well, if you need to talk, I am here." She reached over and grasped his shoulder smiled slightly at her offer. After the last few weeks of Morrigan's hostility, it was nice to have someone female to talk to who wasn't disgusted by his very existence.

She looked away from him and busied herself with stirring the stew, trying to remain focused on her work, but the elf's cold gaze kept haunting did not see what she had done to offend him brow furrowed and she turned to her fellow cook and wondered if he could fill her in on why the elf seemed to suddenly go from treating her as an ordinary woman to hating her so soon after they had met.

"Why does he hate me so Alistair?"

"Who?"

"Alim," she said, "why does he hate me so? What have I done to offend him?"

Alistair sighed and scratched his head, sitting back he stared at the elf engaged in conversation with the witch.

"I don't think he hates you," Alistair clarified, his tone implying that he wasn't quite certain about the veracity of his words even as he spoke them. "I don't think he trusts you, or anyone from the chantry truth be told."

"But why?" she repeated.

"You got me, maybe it's just an elf thing," Alistair answered, "or it might be a mage thing. I'm not quite sure, but I don't think there's a lot of love lost with any of them."

Leliana considered this, her involvement with elves was a bit limited, and with mages it was even more so. She had traveled only a short time one other elven mage by the name of Sketch-although no one actually believed that was his real name-before he had departed, and while he had never been overly friendly with her, he did not seem to be overly critical of her either.

But then again, she had not been involved with the chantry back then.

She and Sketch had gotten along well enough, but Alim was not like him, not like him at all.

She had yet to determine whether or not that was a good thing.

She shook her head and changed the subject, these dark thoughts were not helping her mood, and both she and Alistair could use a bit of cheering up.

"Is your family still in Redcliffe?" she asked, "Is that why you wish to return there?"

She had overheard him speaking with their leader after they had first left Lothering and had been curious about his insistence to go to Redcliffe as soon as possible.

"Nope" Alistair said flatly, "my mother died years ago, and my father…well…let's just say that he didn't want me. I was…inconvenient."

Leliana cursed under her breath, so much for cheering Alistair up.

"I'm sorry" she apologized weakly, kicking herself for bringing up bad memories.

"Oh no, don't be" Alistair chuckled, his tone light as if the topic truly had not been a bother for him. "It is an old pain, and I dealt with it years ago. There were much better things for me to become obsessed with besides my parents, like cheese, and my obsession with my hair."

Leliana giggled despite herself. His deflection had been so unexpected, and she recognized that despite his words Alistair was merely hiding his pain behind humor, but it was not her place to confront him on it.

They all had secrets to hide after all.

"What about you?" he asked, "what was someone like you doing in the Chantry?"

"What is meant by someone like me?" she inquired, quirking her eyebrow in interest.

"Well, I have never seen a sister fight like you before," he admitted, "or was that just something that Chantry chooses to hide. If the Templars fail do they send in the sisters, are you the chantry's secret weapon?"

"I was not born in the Chantry you know," Leliana smiled, "the Chantry provides succor, to all who seek it. I…I found myself in Ferelden and took shelter from a... from a storm in the chantry, and after the storm ended…I…I decided that I did not want to leave. I like to think that the Maker brought me here."

"So, you learned to fight from your life before?"

She nodded, smiling brightly at his skeptically raised eyebrow and amused smirk.

"I was a travelling minstrel in Orlais," she said with a wistful smile, "tales and songs were my life. I performed and was awarded with applause and coin. As for my skill in battle…well…A girl picks up things when she travels. The roads of the empire were not the safest in the world."

Alistair nodded; he supposed that made sense, still he found it hard to believe that a minstrel could pick up those kinds of skills.

Maybe he was just reading too much into this, Leliana had done nothing but help them since they had met her.

If anything, they owed her the benefit of the doubt.

Leliana sighed she did not like where this conversation was going. Alistair was so easy to talk to, without trying he put her off her guard and brought her so close to spilling her guts about her past.

It was all she could do to clam up and come to a stuttering halt before she revealed too much.

Alistair was a polite young man, but if he dug far enough, he would likely discover more than she wanted him to.

She was not yet ready to admit her past…not to anyone. She had done terrible things in her past…horrible things, but that was not the worst of it. No, the worst of it was that she had enjoyed doing those things.

She had loved the violence of the game, reveled in it. There had been nothing better than bringing down her mark, whether physically or mentally. How many had she left dead in the streets of Orlais? How many had she broken, taken everything of value before leaving them with nothing, broken and humiliated?

Or dead.

She shivered at the thought; Dorothea had assured her that redemption was possible, even for one such as her, that the Maker would forgive any trespass.

But was she truly worthy of forgiveness? After all she had done, after all the lives she had destroyed, did she truly deserve anything but oblivion? Anything but the void?

Leliana did not know, and she was frightened of the answers that awaited her.

Alim found himself wandering towards Bodahn's cart after his talk with Morrigan. He was intensely fascinated with her and curious about a great deal of things.

He had chosen to ask her about her mother. Having read a great deal about the infamous Witch of the Wilds, he wanted to know if she truly was Morrigan's mother, or if she was simply a chasind child Flemeth stole and raised on a whim.

It seemed that Morrigan did not truly know herself either, though she did believe Flemeth to be her true mother.

For better or worse.

It seemed a rare chance to learn the truth behind the legend, or at least another perspective in it. His talk with the woman had revealed much, he did not yet know whether he believed the legends he knew or her own version of events to be the truth.

If anything, her version had exposed some flaws in the original story, and her version seemed to be the more plausible one.

If her claims were to be believed, a great many things about Flemeth had been misrepresented in Ferelden folklore. That was hardly a surprise, what with minstrels and their tendency to embellish, to build up local lords and cast villains into infamy.

Alim breathed deeply in an attempt to banish these ponderings to the back of his mind for later contemplation as he had arrived at the dwarven merchant's tent and wagon.

It seemed that they had just finished setting up camp set, though at a distance from where they had set down for the night, which seemed to imply a sort of reluctance to get too close as of yet.

It made sense, Bodahn didn't know them that well yet. Alim himself had also admitted to being a grey warden just the day before, after having learned that the order had been branded as kingslayers throughout the land.

He wouldn't trust them completely yet either.

"Good evening master dwarf," Alim called out with a small bow. He doubted the gesture would amount to anything, but let it not be said that he didn't try.

"Enchantment?" the younger one, Sandal Feddic, turned to him and asked. He couldn't help but grin in amusement at his obvious excitement at plying his trade.

"Not now son," Bodahn smiled and patted the younger drwarf's shoulders and gesturing for his son to continue with his work... whatever it was he was doing, while he tended to their new travel companion, and hopefully their new protector. Sandal nodded to his father with a smile and returned to work.

"Good evening, Master Surana," the dwarf said with a welcoming smile, "is there something I can do for you?"

"I was hoping you could provide me with information," the elf answered. "Please, call me Alim. We're to be traveling together for a while I think, we should try to be friends."

A weight seemed to lift off the dwarf's shoulders as he visibly relaxed, seemingly pleased that he wanted to at least be on a first name basis with him.

"Not much a simple trader like could tell you ser," the dwarf shrugged, "not much but the hearsay and rumors shared among travelers. Unless you wish to know about business here on the road, of which I'm slightly more qualified to bend your ear with."

The elf gave a disarming smile, glad to be receiving any information at all, grateful not to be going about the countryside of Ferelden wholly blind to recent goings on. "It is about one of your customers, or potential customers rather" the elf replied with a smile, "I was curious if you have ever done any trading with the Dalish elves?"

"Only once or twice.

"The elves are more likely to trade with a dwarf than a human after all, I encountered a clan not three weeks ago, setting up their camp near the out skirts of the Brecilian Forrest, not too far from here as a matter of fact. Their leader was a bit stand-offish, but so are many such leaders I suppose."

Alim grinned, latching onto that little nugget of information he pressed the merchant for more.

"Could you find them again if you needed to?" the elf asked.

"I suppose so," the dwarf said, one hand stroking his beard thoughtfully as he stared out into the darkness of the forest.

"Excellent," Alim replied, "would you and your son like to join us for dinner, I think we have a fair amount to discuss."

The dwarf grinned, "you are very kind warden. Though it would be more accurate to say that you lot would be joining my son and I for dinner, we did provide the food after all. But I digress ser, what would you lie to know."

"Everything you can tell me about these Dalish, starting with their leader." Alim replied, smiling amusedly at Bodahn's jibe. "Including his name if you have it."

"Of course, warden," Bodahn replied, "I believe the Dalish call their leaders Keepers actually, this one's name-if I recall correctly-was Zathrian."

Wide, hazel eyes watched from a high bough as the durgen'len they had traded with a few fortnights past chatted animatedly with an elf in robes too garish for her tastes. Her eyes narrowed in the darkness as the two of them, followed by another, younger, dwarf towards a bonfire where several shemlen, one male and two females along with a very large male with strange features-possibly an abomination-along with a large dog were gathered around a cooking pot.

"Who are they Mithra?"

The senior hunter didn't react overtly to the whispered words of her younger companion, having heard the branch creak beside her. She watched carefully as the outsiders ate their dinner and traded information. This was not the first time that strangers had wandered so close to their settlement since they had made camp in this cursed forest, but she had to admit that this was among of the strangest groups to appear on their borders.

"Mithra?"

"Hush Velanyla!" Mithra regarded her fellow huntress; Mithra was several summers older with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her fellow hunter was dark haired with violet eyes.

Velanyla was still very young, she had only just received her vallaslin, her forehead and nose still pink and raw where the blood writing of Sylaise had been cast. Her short dark hair was cropped close to the skull like a boy, but only a blind fool would mistake Velanyla for a male. The girl had grown from a coltish, gawky da'len into a beautiful elven woman.

She was also extremely curious, far too much for Mithra's liking, the girl she did not yet understand the dangers that outsiders posed. That knowledge would only come with experience, and Mithra intended to see she lived long enough to learn that lesson.

Only the clan could be trusted.

She made a gesture with her hands and their hunting party moved into place to surround the outsiders, if it was trouble that these people wanted then that is what they would find. The Dalish were not easy pray for anyone.

Watching the group closely, she determined that the largest male in the clearing had no weapon of his own. That could infer any number of things; but he was too big to be a simple noncombatant like the dwarves. Perhaps he fought with his bare hands, truly a curious thing if that were so.

The smaller male looked to be well armored in what she recognized from the templars she had spied upon once. They fought well, he would be difficult to deal with.

The red-haired female appeared as if she fought similarly to a dalish hunter, short blades on her belt with a bow strapped to her back. If she was correct, there would no doubt be additional throwing knives hidden upon her person. If possible, they would need to put an arrow in between her eyes before she was aware of their presence.

The darker haired female also carried no weapon and was dressed in rags to boot, albeit rags that possessed some semblance of fashionable dress. A witch if ever she had seen one.

As she noted before, the lone elf of the group was dressed in robes that seemed to denote some manner of wealth. As was the trend with this group, he carried no weapon, but there did seem to be a sword hilt hanging from his belt.

Some sort of enchanted weapon perhaps.

From the presence of the enchanted weapon and from his rich, colorful robes, she assumed this elf to be the leader of this group. It was surprising then, to see an elf leading a group of shems, likely he was just some flat ear servant that the humans had hoped would distract the Dalish, to stay their arrows as they passed through their land.

Foolish shems.

Mithra considered giving the signal, closing the trap and seeing just what they had caught here, but decided to wait and see if they were truly bound for their camp. It wouldn't do to attract unnecessary attention and bring a whole village of angry shemlen down on their heads.

Again.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Alistair asked the next morning.

The group had pulled up camp and were on their way deeper into the forest, though Bodahn and Sandal had elected to remain behind.

"No," Alim answered, "according to Bodahn the Dalish camp he visited should be just up ahead."

He had not kept count, but that must have been the fourth time Alistair had asked that question. The elf saw Leliana whisper something in Alistair's ear followed by a curt nod from the ex-templar.

That was good, hopefully she was warning him to keep his big trap shut.

Alim was not the only one that the former Templar was annoying.

Morrigan shook her head, if the elf was not here, she likely would have cut Alistair's throat in his sleep by now, the suspicious dimwitted fool was always working her last nerve. He had to be the most annoying person she had ever met.

"I've always wondered what a Dalish camp would look like," Leliana said smiling wistfully, "I'm truly grateful that you asked me to join you on this…whatever it is…quest? Adventure?"

Morrigan sighed, perhaps Alistair was the second most annoying person she had met.

"Adventure and quest mean the same thing."

Sten brought up the rear, the Qunari seemed distracted, looking over his shoulder and at seemingly random trees and rocks as they proceeded. He seemed…agitated.

The large warrior frowned.

"We are surrounded," the Qunari said quietly, "I believe we have found the elves you have been searching for wardens."

Alim sighed, nodding to the qunari's words. Since they had pulled up camp, he had the feeling of being watched, a feeling he had long grown used to at the tower, but one that had been absent in the past few weeks.

"Really," Alistair asked, "How can you tell?"

Dalish hunters sprang from the shadows, their bows trained the wardens and their companions. Alim narrowed his eyes at the elves and created a shimmering barrier around his companions as a lithe elven woman with blonde hair, pinned the human warden with an icy glare.

"Never mind," Alistair sighed in dismay at having been caught completely flat-footed.

The blonde elf glared up at him, grinding her teeth. She found him to be rather handsome, something that only made her angrier.

"Hold it outsiders," she hissed, "The Dalish have camped in this spot, I suggest you leave…now!"

Alim glanced around them; he had to give the Dalish credit. They managed to sneak up on them without alerting any of them.

Any of them except for Sten, apparently.

"Is this any way to greet a fellow elf?" he asked.

The blonde elf snorted in derision at the notion that this 'elf' was like her in any way.

"Flat-ears are no different from their shemlen masters, we have no inn for you to stay in, nor bread to share. AS I said I suggest you leave."

The magic barrier separating the small group from the Dalish hunters wavered a bit, the only outward sign of the irritation Alim felt. It seemed these wild elves were no better than the humans.

Alim paused, trying to consider how best to proceed, he had no desire to harm these Dalish, in fact he hoped to win them over to their side, but at the same time he did not like their cold attitude. Humans called him a knife-ear, the Dalish a flat ear, neither slur appealed to him truth be told, but never-the-less he was trying very hard not to offer a choice retort to the arrogant little woman.

"We are not your enemies" he said quietly, admiring a pretty little female with dark hair and violet eyes. He gave the woman a polite nod.

Velanyla smiled shyly but backed away a step, wary of the group of strangers but seemingly not as openly hostile.

"You have no reason to be here," the leader spat.

"Actually, I do." Alim said, "I am a Grey Warden, and I seek an audience with your leader, your… Keeper; is it?"

Alim's response drew the Dalish up short.

"A…a Grey warden?" the blonde leader repeated.

Alim nodded.

"How do we know you are telling the truth?"

"People always go around claiming to be Grey Wardens then, do they?" Alistair quipped.

"I suppose they don't," the leader admitted, she lowered her bow, but motioned to her fellows to remain ready, "We will bring you to the Keeper, but I advise you to be on your best behavior. Our arrows are still trained on you."

Her threat hanging in the air, she turned back to her clan's camp and motioned for them to follow. Alim dropped his barrier, the act doing nothing to steady the nerves of the rest of the group.

Morrigan might be a problem going forward, she meat hateful and suspicious glares with her own murderous glare. If he listened intently enough, he could almost make out a crackle of electricity in the aggressively uncomfortable silence that befell them.

Mythra and her hunters guided them through the trees into a large clearing which, judging from the crumbled stone ruins dotted around the space, had once been a Tevinter outpost in ages past.

The clearing was bustling with activity as they entered; large wood and canvas caravans, land ships as Bodahn called them, had been arranged in a rough semi-circle in the center of the clearing, and as the elven woman led the group into the circle, Alim could see the forms of elven warriors pacing back and forth at the perimeter of the circle. Their faces were wary, staring out into the surrounding forest as though expecting trouble to emerge at any second.

Strangely, they seemed to give almost no regard to the small, mostly human, group being led into the center of their encampment.

The woman led them to the center of the wagon circle, where a significant crowd of elf women, children and several male elves of a variety of ages were gathered.

Judging by their garments, silks and light leathers as opposed to the thicker leathers with intricately designed wood or metal plating, looked more to be healers or craftsmen rather than warriors.

These elves seemed to be either keeping warm or simply trying to find some distraction from the tension of their present situation. He could clearly see the fear on the faces of these civilians, as they looked warily looked through the gaps between the wagons for any sign of trouble. Howls were heard echoing from the forest, and elf children whimpered and wailed with fright, running to their mothers, who embraced their frightened offspring with words of comfort, attempting to calm them, though they themselves seemed just as frightened.

He also noticed that the elves were desperately avoiding the northern portion of their camp, from where the cries of pain and anguish seemed to be emanating. Were he to guess, they had recently been attacked or had come under siege, and the northern portion of the camp was a medic's tent.

As he and his companions passed them, Alim noticed several elves looked at them with cold hostility, while others seemed to regard the party with curiosity, particularly the children who watched them approach with much interest, talking among themselves, curiously pointing and whispering to each other about these strangers in their midst. Sten paid the elves staring at him no more attention than he would the moss on a stone while Morrigan was returning open hostility with open hostility, Alistair and Leliana looked quietly amused by all the attention while Hohaku seemed delighted at being a focus of interest, gleefully barking and would have run off to play had it not been for his master keeping a hand on his back.

Alim allowed himself a small smile at the mabari's antics but felt worried at the mood of the camp. He had read no end of tales of the Dalish and their affinity with the forest, but these people seemed to be so fearful of the woods that he couldn't help but be on edge.

Finally, they were led to an especially large wagon where two figures stood.

The first was an elder male, tall and bald, his handsome face intricately decorated with twisting vine and thorn tattoos. He wore intricate green leather robes with gold ornamentation, decorated in places with white fur. The second was a younger woman with mousy brown hair neatly gathered into twin buns at the back of her head. Her pretty face bore graceful lines and dots in the rough form of a willow, and her robes were considerably tighter and more form fitting than her elder, with green fur decoration rather than white.

The younger woman, the elder's apprentice if their ornate white wood staves were anything to go by, appeared to be mixing herbs at a nearby table with alchemy supplies while the keeper quietly instructed her. The two elves looked up as the hunter led them onward; the girl appeared genuinely curious at the approach of so 'shemlen' while the elder gave a welcoming smile, though Alim could not fail to see the smile did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and guarded, scrutinising the newcomers with a look of veiled unease.

"I see we have guests..." the keeper stepped forward but was interrupted by an angry growl. Looking behind, Alim saw to Hohaku baring his teeth at the keeper with his ears pulled back. Alim quickly calmed the dog but made a note to keep a close eye on this 'Zathrian'.

For his part, the old man showed no unease at the mabari's angry barks; his lips merely curled into a haughty sneer of disdain as he glowered at the dog and coldly remarked "And they have a hound with them, as if we've not had enough trouble with such creatures". He shook his head and then turned his attention to the hunter.

"Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience today, and even less time to waste on outsiders!"

Mythra gestured to Alim and replied "This-one claims to be a Grey Warden and says he wishes to speak with the clan. I thought it best to leave the decision to you".

The keeper gave an understanding smile and nodded to her. "That was wise of you. Ma serennas, Mithra, you can return to your post now".

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper" Mithra curtly replied with a formal half-bow, then departed to rejoin the elves patrolling the borders of the camp. The Keeper now turned his full attention to Alim and gave a polite nod to him, showing him a little more respect after learning his claimed title, but his eyes still cold. "Very well, it seems some introductions are in order. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan, its guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?"

Alim gave a full bow: "I am Alim Surana of the Grey Wardens; it is an honor to meet you Keeper".

The Keeper's eyebrows rose in surprise, as though the courtesy was nothing he had ever expected to hear. "Manners? From a flat-ear? How...unexpected"

If you have come to bring news of the Blight in the south, it not needed: I have already sensed its corruption. I would have already taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see" he concluded sadly, gesturing to his frightened and wary clansmen "we do not".

"Yes, it seems like you've had your own troubles. Who'd have thought?" Alistair quipped with a shrug. Sten glared at the Keeper-not that it was easy to tell as he always looked like he was glaring-and cut in with his own unwarranted opinion. "So, their first reaction to trouble is to flee from it? Curious"

Zathrian glowered at the qunari and Alim had to suppress a sigh of exasperation at the qunari's undiplomatic way of speaking.

Zathrian cut across him with a nod, seemingly a little understanding of Alim's position. "I imagine you are here regarding the treaty our people signed with your Order centuries ago. Unfortunately we may not be able to live up to the promise we made".

Alim's eyebrows rose at this; it was hardly a surprise that the Dalish would not wish to throw away elven lives in a seemingly human cause. The fifth Blight could not have happened at a worse time, the world could not be more divided than it was now.

As though he had read Alim's thoughts, Zathrian quickly continued, "this will require...some explanation". The elf gave a weary sigh and ran a hand over his bald scalp, before gesturing for Alim to follow him. Alim nodded and made to follow the Keeper, as did the others, but the Keeper raised a warding hand. "Please, follow me."

Morrigan scoffed as the two walked away before she made her way to the borders of the Dalish camp, none too pleased at being treated like she was not even present, though she did nothing to bring attention to herself. Being the focus of a bunch of pathetic Dalish who couldn't even solve a case of lycanthropy on their own? She truly couldn't be bothered with this and were she in charge they'd have left them to their fate.

Sten glowered at all these elves looking at him in suspicion, fear and not a little hate. Were it up to him they'd simply kill the keeper and command all present and in fighting condition to follow their obligations and fight, but for now he was oath bound to follow the elven saarabas, at least until he bungled things enough that he could kill him and take charge of this quest. For now, he would have to stay his blade, or his claws rather, as there were still arrows trained on them, ready to kill them all.

He too ended up leaving the group, having no interest in their discourse with these wild elves, he would assist in the Grey Warden's mission. Nothing more was required of him here.

Alistair and Leliana looked back and forth between Morrigan and Sten, uneasy at the expressions shared between them as they too split off. But, being among the more diplomatic members of the group, made to gather more information on their own rather than waste time doing nothing.

Alistair made to speak with the keeper's apprentice, a young woman by the name of Lanaya. He had noted that her glances at him were more curious than distrusting or hostile, obviously his grey warden status doing something to raise his status above that of a mere 'shem'.

He found her to be a polite young woman, wary of the newcomers but not enough to dismiss them out of hand.

Leliana made her way towards an elf sitting on a log by a campfire, a little on the older side judging from his greying hair and the lines on his face, but from the other elves gathered around him she guessed he was a minstrel of a sort.

Lastly, Hohaku ran off the moment he removed his hand from the hound's back. He enjoyed himself by running through the encampment, small children abandoning their places at their parent's sides, as well as their dour moods, to run after him.

Thankfully the keeper's utter disdain for the dog did not reflect on the rest of the clan, as they all seemed to be cheered up a little by his antics.

Once they reached the area the moans and screams had been originating from however, all became clear, Zathrian's hesitance to lend aid to their cause as well as the reason for the dour air around the camp and the fear and hatred in the eyes of the Dalish.

Dozens of elven men and women lay sick or dying, the sickly smell of fear, sweat, and vomit filling the air. All of the wounded wore naught but loose-fitting trousers, with the women being given tunics to protect their modesty, and the bare skin that they could see was covered in bruises and lacerations, clear signs of attack by wild animals.

The elves tending to them all wore masks and gloves, sweat clinging to their bodies as they hurriedly brewed potions, made salves and poultices and changed bandages without cease as they worked to save their kin, or else ease their passing.

Alim looked away with a shudder, suddenly back at the Ostagar infirmary as his fellow soldiers suffered from Blight sickness.

"The clan came to the Brecilian forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers of forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us," he finished and Alim looked up, astounded at the notion of werewolves of all things being behind this.

He'd read tales of men who could change into beasts during the Black Age; however no more such creatures had been seen in centuries, and many in Ferelden believed wolf-men to be little more than tall tales to frighten if not legend, then extinct. Though that was not the case if Zathrian was to be believed, and considering how many thought the darkspawn to be extinct as well, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

How many other creatures commonly believed to be extinct or as mere fables were secretly roaming the lands of Thedas...

"They...ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak..."

Zathrian sighed and stepped towards the nearest sick hunter, an elderly male whose puss filled wounds were being tended to by one of the overworked healers.

"Even with all our magic and healing skill, we will be forced to slay our brethren eventually to prevent them from becoming mindless beasts." Now Alim understood the terrible fear he'd felt in the camp: the Dalish were terrified not only of further attack from the monsters in the forest, but that their own kin would become a threat to be eliminated.

Zathrian rubbed the weariness from his eyes and continued with a chagrined expression. "The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we are in no position to honor our obligation. I am truly sorry. "

"Why did they attack you?" Alim questioned.

"They are savage and unrelenting; they need no reason to attack anyone. What is curious, however, was the ambush. We expect werewolves to be no more cunning than a rabid wolf. The ambush suggests a level of intelligence we've not seen before. "

"Is there any way to help your men?"

Alim's own quest was of dire importance, but he would not shirk the needs of the suffering if he could do something to stop it.

Zathrian gave an uneasy grimace and replied, "The affliction is a curse that runs rampant through their blood, bringing great pain and ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself and that...that would be no trivial task to retrieve. "

"But you're talking about a werewolf..." Such creatures were an unknown as foes, they had not been heard of in hundreds of years save for in fables. Thus, their strengths, weaknesses, or how they behaved in combat would be impossible to guess. Impossible, except for what these Dalish could tell them, and they seemed intent on dismissing them as naught but savage, mindless animals.

Though, supposedly, that was exactly what the Dalish were most adept at fighting.

Which could only point to the fact that he was not being given all the information. But whether that would come back to bite Alim and his group or the Dalish, he couldn't say.

The old elf shook his head before answering, "No, but it is the one who made these werewolves come to be. Within the Brecilian Forest, there dwells a great wolf-we call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it was spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse, but this task has proven too dangerous for us."

Having witnessed enough of the goings on in the infirmary, Zathrian gestured for Alim to follow him back to his land ship where Alistair was speaking animatedly with Zathrian's apprentice, who seemed to be smiling and enjoying the templar's company.

Looking around, Morrigan and Sten were nowhere to be seen, but Leliana was speaking with an older man by the fire. Despite their initial reception, it seemed her charm had won him over, at least a little.

"I sent a group of my best hunters into the forest nearly a week ago, but they have not returned, and I cannot risk any more of my clan."

Alim took a moment to respond, "have you considered seeking outside help?"

It was only logical. If this tribe could not solve their dilemma themselves, they should look outside. Another clan should be willing to help them if they were nearby, and the keepers must have some way of communicating with each other.

Messenger birds, perhaps?

"From whom? The children of the stone? The Shemlen? Do you truly think they have the time to spare for us?" He supposed not, with as busy as everyone was with the blight, with the civil war, or troubles of their own if the Dalish were to be treated as a precedent.

But he had to wonder, if any humans offered to help Zathrian without their title to help them, would he accept their aid at all?

"You said you could 'perhaps' destroy the curse," he asked after a while of thinking on it. Even if they succeeded in bringing him the heart, there were no guarantees that anything could be done. Zathrian said Witherfang's blood could lift the curse, but if that was more symbolic than literal, Zathrian might just be dooming his tribe to pain and death for nothing.

"There is no guarantee that this will work as I suspect, but it is the only hope we have left." It is as he suspected then, the man had nothing and was grasping at straws in desperation.

"Very well, I'll find this Witherfang for you."

The least he could do was try. Perhaps this would work, and perhaps it wouldn't. He would go after the heart. Perhaps it would be as simple as Zathrian implied, and perhaps it wouldn't.

Only time could tell.

Zathrian gave a satisfied smile and inclined his head gratefully, but then his eyes became hard, and he spoke in a serious tone. "I must warn you, more than werewolves lurk within the Brecilian Forest. It has a history of carnage and murder you see. Where there is so much death in one place, the Veil separating the spirit world from our own becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things living and dead.

"But if you can indeed help, then I wish you luck."

"I have some questions before I depart."

Zathrian nodded understandingly but replied in a brisk tone. "Make them quick, if you please; I have much to do. My apprentice, Lanaya" here, he gestured to the girl, who was deep in conversation with Alistair "or Sarel, the clan's hahren, or storyteller in your tongue" indicating the older male elf with greying hair by the fire who was still deep in conversation with Leliana "could answer them just as easily. Though it looks as if your friends are doing that already."

"Very well, I will talk with my allies and make preparations for entering the woods."

"I must return to caring for my people. Creators' speed on your way."

Zathrian permitted the wardens to make camp just outside their own, considering how nervous the Dalish were around outsiders, Alim could not help but agree to this. They would be close enough to lend assistance where needed, but far enough that none of the Dalish or their group would cross paths if a confrontation was not deliberately sought out.

He advised the others to tread lightly around the elves whenever possible. The hostility here could easily blow up in their faces if they were not careful. Alistair and Leliana had found, not friends, but people they could share common ground with among Zathrian's followers. Hohaku had already raised the morale of the Dalish slightly, so he didn't have to worry about his hound suddenly gaining a back full of arrows, as only Zathrian himself seemed to display contempt for the hound.

Morrigan and Sten, though? He would need to keep a close eye on them. He trusted neither of them not to kill one of the Dalish elves if tensions were too high. Morrigan at least might see fit simply to insult any elf that tried to start anything with her, but Sten had already shown himself to be a bloodthirsty monster.

Alim moved quietly through the Dalish camp with Hohaku at his side, speaking with those who would talk to him, trying to gather any last-minute information before his group entered the forest for their task. He had already relayed what he had learned to the group, as well as learned the information gleaned by Alistair and Leliana after joining them around the campfire.

From Alistair, he learned that Zathrian seemed to know these werewolves and their curse intimately, having possibly been around to see it happen. These elves believed that Zathrian had achieved the secret to immortality, something that had not been seen in any elf since the fall of was definitely impressive if true, but somehow, he had his was reluctant to share further details, apparently he had promised Lanaya that he would not share the sensitive information that she had shared with him, but he did tell them that it wasn't of vital importance to their mission.

From Leliana, he had learned that the curse was centuries old and originated when the spirit of a powerful spirit came to possess the body of a great wolf. But that didn't make sense to him, as powerful spirits and demons only sought to possess people or animals that did not possess magic unless they had been drawn by some form of catalyst.

And if this curse has existed for centuries, why were the werewolves becoming aggressive towards the Dalish only now? The ambush they mentioned was not that of mindless animals lying in wait for prey: this was a carefully planned attack. So, what is driving the werewolves to it, and why would Zathrian be so unwilling to think otherwise?

He and Morrigan talked amongst each other for over an hour trying to solve this riddle, since a spirit was evidently responsible for this it would be up to them to figure it out. Both of them had different views on spirits and demons; and each brought different perspectives and points of view to the discussion, but they ultimately had too little information to come to any solid conclusions.

Alim would need to wander the camp and try to gather any other information that had been hidden from them while Morrigan would use her shapeshifting abilities to try and attempt to overhear any candid discussion.

None of them liked this, it was precisely because of people in power keeping secrets that they were in this mess in the first place.

Alim stopped briefly to acquire supplies from the clan's craftsman, a pleasant enough fellow called Varathorn. He bought what he needed, alchemy ingredients, of which he seemed to keep a surprisingly large stock. Agreeing to do what he could to earn the clan's trust, he listened to the craftsman's tale and had even agreed to keep an eye out for a rare type of wood while in the forest.

Even in the tower he had heard of Ironbark, Varathorn claimed that no one but the Dalish could work with it, showing off just how ignorant they were about the outside world. He had heard of entire ironbark forests in a country up north for the sole purpose of shaping the wood into jewelry.

He decided not to share that information with him though, he seemed to take great pride in his ability to work ironbark and informing him that the ability to shape the wood was not in fact a rarity would no doubt crush his spirit.

Hohaku would not leave his side once it was clear that there was no more fun to be had with the Dalish children, something that the Dalish picked up on at once it seemed.

"You...have a hound?"

Alim started in surprise at having been addressed while so deep in thought about the werewolf conundrum, and standing before him was the dark-haired huntress from back when Mythra and her hunters had surrounded them, her warm violet eyes staring inquisitively at Hohaku, her ears twitched when he huffed in response to her presence.

Turning to regard him, she glared in what she thought must have been an intimidating stance, but only came off as adorably precocious given her rather diminutive stature.

"How can you enslave this poor animal the way the shemlen do?" she asked him, clearly outraged at the thought that an elf who should have known better would bind an animal to his will.

Alim frowned, tilting his head to the side and wondering how she must have come to that conclusion. Yes, the war dog stayed close to him when he felt they were being threatened by the tribe, but he had run free the moment the threat passed.

"I did not enslave him" he shook his head, kneeling down and scratching Hohaku's neck, much to his pleasure, "He chose me."

The girl tilted her head, "I…I don't understand."

Alim smiled, glad he had picked up a book on mabari from the Lothering chantry's library.

"A Mabari is not just some common lap dog; the Tevinter Mages bred them to be intelligent warriors on the battlefield. When one chooses to follow you, it is an honor. It means the mabari has acknowledged you as a person worthy of following. Few outside of Ferelden understand that; it is a bond of trust and friendship, not of servitude."

Hohaku of course basked in his master's praise, sitting up straighter and holding his head up proudly.

The girl bit her lip in thought for a full moment before her eyes lit up.

"So, they are like the Halla then?"

"Halla?" Alim asked.

She took him by the hand and led him over to the animal pens. He was surprised as she tugged him along, but simply went along with it for now. Coming closer, he saw what resembled the animal pens he had seen on the farms in Lothering, but these were not fully encircled. The fences that were there were clearly only for decoration, and as such were very ornately designed, but were open at several points.

The openings wide enough for the creatures to escape by the threes. It was as she said then, they were not beasts of burden or livestock, but partners who only stayed in their enclosure because they chose to.

He had heard the creatures bleating when they arrived but had not seen them up close until now.

They were beautiful. The creatures resembled stags, but they were taller and more graceful. Their white fur was short and looked soft to the touch, having subtle patterns in bright yellow or gold. Their antlers were unique for each halla, they were all similar but no two was the same. They all resembled twisting vines cast in a bright silver.

Were these halla and elves natural companions? It seemed they must have been, as he could not tear his eyes away from them, and he felt something deep within him swell in response to their presence.

"I am Velanyla by the way," the huntress said, smiling lightly. Alim once more had to shake himself out of his reverie in surprise, and turning to her all he could do was offer a polite nod and a brief introduction.

"Aneth ara Alim," the girl replied, "that means hello in the tongue of the elves. The nature of the relationship you described with your hound is similar to that of our halla. A bond of friendship, and not servitude."

"Who comes?" a new voice called out to them as an older woman with greying hair approached.

"It is only I Elora," the huntress responded, giving the older woman a bow and introducing her as the halla's caretaker.

"Oh…hello Velanyla," the older Dalish responded with a smile, but she turned to Alim her smile turned to a grimace at the sight of a flat-ear so close to the halla. "Greetings outsider."

Alim nodded, his eyes still drawn to the creatures, to their pale white and fur and majestic antlers. The Halla were like no creature he had seen before, and something in him seemed to be resonating with them.

His eyes fell on a lone female, separated from the rest, he could sense her agitation in her every movement. Every step, every breath radiated anxiety.

"Is something wrong with this one?" he asked.

Elora frowned but nodded.

"I fear she may have been bitten during the werewolf attack" the herder explained, she reached out to touch the halla, but it shied from her hand, "The curse would not affect her like it does us, but it is sadly still fatal. If I cannot treat her, I may have to put her down."

"Elora…that is horrible!" Velanyla gasped, seeming to be on the verge of tears as she gazed upon the sick halla, its nostrils flaring under her scrutiny.

Elora nodded in agreement, biting her lip as she once more tried and failed to stroke the halla's neck. "I have tried speaking with her, but she is too agitated."

Alim regarded the halla thoughtfully, he could sense the poor creature's emotions, perhaps that would be enough…

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"I don't know" Elora said, her tone a strange mix of condescending and pleading. She had tried everything she could think of, and would gladly accept help, even from a flat-ear.

"Do you have any skills that could help her?" She highly doubted it, she could tell he had only just seen a halla for the first time. What could he possibly do that a Dalish could not?

Alim did not catch her condescending tone, he himself was not sure if he could do anything to help the halla, but he had to try.

Even failing to do anything useful was better than doing nothing.

Alim came forward; he reached out with his mind to the near frantic creature. It was similar to what he did when he called upon is magic, though different in a way he couldn't describe. The Halla's thoughts were far less chaotic. He touched them easily; and sent waves of soothing thoughts into the creature's mind. The process felt similar to how he controlled spirit energy, but this…this was something far more… calmer, but more complex.

Elora and Velanyla watched him, the master herder's eyes widened in surprise.

"You have done it!" She exclaimed, "she is calming down," she turned to the halla placing a hand on its head, "that is it love, be calm, tell me what troubles you."

The Halla reached out to her, showing her its fear.

"Ah I see," Elora said softly, "it was her life mate who was injured not her, and she worries for him deeply. I…I had not realized that another Halla had been injured."

The Master Herder bowed to Alim, expressing her thanks.

"Mas Serranas, thank you, I can now begin to tend to the Halla as is needed."

Alim nodded, it had been strange, he should not have been able to do that, but somehow…it had felt so natural…so right.

Was this because he was an elf, because he was a mage, or both?

Velanyla was grinning from ear to ear at the sight.

"That was amazing! Not that I'm certain what that was, but you were able to bond with the halla so soon after first meeting them. I know of folk in our own clan who couldn't form a bond so swiftly."

"I am simply a mage and a Grey Warden," he said dismissively, "I don't know what exactly it was that I did, but I was grateful to be able to help."

Velanyla's eyes warmed at his generosity.

The Dalish girl didn't know what to make of him. Alim was…different, unlike any man she had met before. He fired her curiosity; she wanted to know more about this outsider.

She needed to know more.

Zathrian watched the flat-ear warden mover through the camp, the genial, welcoming face he wore when greeting the flat-ear gone, replaced by an expression of cold indifference.

He wanted the warden gone, outsiders had never brought anything but pain to the clan, and now this arrogant flat-ear had brought shemlen into their midst. They would try and find Witherfang, they would fight the werewolves.

Better to send the shems than risk his own clan.

Zathrian did not believe they would succeed, but if they did then he would need to be there to make sure this played out in accordance with the script he had lied out for them.

He would not allow the flat-ear and his friends to stand in the way of justice.

With luck they would die trying to kill Witherfang, and if by some miracle they succeeded he they would not escape unbitten.

Flat-ears were no different from their shemlen masters. He had saved Lanaya from the shems years ago, but she had still been a child, uncorrupted by the outsiders' cruelty and savagery.

This Alim was not like that, if he was bitten during the course of this quest, Zathrian would not hesitate; he would give the man a quick death.

It would be the only merciful thing to do.