Alistair woke with a start at a noise in the room. He grunted and his eyes reluctantly flickered open. The room was filled with a hazy golden light of sunset, and he rubbed his eyes to get used to it.
Stelle was moving about the room, gathering discarded dishes and rags. She had placed a tray of two generous bowls of stew and hunks of bread, with pitchers of wine and water on the table, next to all of the stranger's weapons.
The stranger. Alistair turned to look at the bed. The woman was still there, sleeping soundly, undisturbed by Stelle's busying.
"Ah, good, child, you're awake now. Slept the good afternoon away, you did!" Stelle said chirpily, putting away new clean, folded rags on the shelf.
Alistair's mouth watered at the smell of Stelle's hearty stew. In all of Ferelden, she made the best stew he had ever had. It was never overcooked, grey and lumpy like other taverns, but well seasoned, and one could actually distinguish the different ingredients in the soup.
"Stelle, you are a gift from Andraste herself," Alistair stretched and reached for the bowl, wolfing it down hungrily. Stelle seemed pleased with this compliment, and smiled to herself smugly. Alistair finished the stew with lightening speed and grabbed the bread and water together.
"You're going to make yourself sick all over again if you eat like that!" Stelle warned. At that moment, the stranger on the bed stirred, and Alistair and Stelle stopped what they were doing and watched her.
The woman's eyes flickered heavily open, and she stared up at the ceiling above her, still in a daze. After a minute, her eyes wandered about the room and fell on an unfamiliar but kind looking round woman, smiling in relief, and at a young, light haired man in armor, a piece of bread sticking out of his mouth as he gaped at her.
Her senses returned to her suddenly, and she threw back the covers and picked up the first weapon she could reach - a poker for the fire place. The young man in armor rapidly stood to his feet, grabbing his sword, and stretched an arm out in front of the older woman to protect her. The woman squeaked in surprise and took a step back.
"Steady, easy-" The man started, but she did not let him finish.
"Who are you?" she demanded, holding the poker in front of her as she surveyed the room quickly. It was small, just a bed, table, fireplace, and the door, but the door was blocked by the strangers in front of her. Her belongings and weapons were on the table, neatly laid out, next to a tray of food and drink. She felt slightly dizzy.
The man opened his mouth to speak, but the woman pushed past his arm and cautiously but quickly moved toward her.
"You should sit down, dear, or your wounds will open again. How about we all just calm down, now, and talk. We're not here to hurt you, dear, don't worry. Alistair here found you hurt by the forest and brought you in. Now come let's sit down, there we go…" the stranger allowed the woman to help her sit down again, but held tightly onto the poker.
"Now," the kind woman continued, "I am Stelle, the innkeeper of this place. Why don't you have some soup, dear, you'll feel much better… good, now, this is Alistair, he brought you in…" Stelle handed the bowl of stew to the young woman, who took it suspiciously. Alistair sat down on the chair again, propping his sword against the table, and finished eating his bread with a nod.
"You were covered in Darkspawn blood," he said through chewing. "You fell out of the forest by the river and fell unconscious. Not before you managed to poison me, though." He looks amused.
"Do you have a name, dear?" Stelle asked, smiling warmly.
The young woman raised a spoonful of broth and sniffed it suspiciously, before taking a sip. As though it had awakened some carnal hunger in her, she began eating rapidly, slurping and chewing, and took the piece of bread Stelle offered her appreciatively. She was soon done, but saved a few slivers of meat at the bottom of her bowl. She took a long drought of water from the pitcher and finally wiped her mouth and breathed contentedly.
Stelle smiled at her in amusement and took the bowl and pitcher to the table. "Feeling better?"
The young woman nodded and took a deep breath.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice was smooth and slightly deep, and even though it was a little raspy from sleeping so long, it was pleasant.
"Forgive me, and my actions," she continued, bowing her head slightly to Stelle and Alistair, "I have met only few in my travels that have treated a stranger with this much hospitality, and I was sure of death the last I can remember."
"Ah, yes, Fereldens aren't too hospitable at the moment, with the Blight approaching and all. Better things to think about, really," Alistair said cheerfully, and smiled at the young woman. Her long hair was falling around her, and her bright orange eyes seemed to glow out from behind the strands falling in front of her face. She watched him steadily, as though thinking over trusting him with more information. She really was quite beautiful, and the life was returning to her face after her meal.
"You're in the Outskirts Inn," he told her, feeling as though he should offer more information, "just north of Denerim. Where did you come from?"
She hesitated, then answered the question. "I am Zalandri," she said, slowly. "I am not from there, but I came to Ferelden through the Free Marches; from Kirkwall. I believe about a week ago, unless I have been sleeping for several days. I've been travelling through the lands, mapping the regions and studying the plant and animal life."
"Yes, I flipped through your notes," Alistair told her, gesturing to the tattered, hand bound journal on the table. "Sorry," he quickly added, sheepishly. "You forgot to add notes of all the food equivalent to sewage here, besides Serah Stelle's of course," he joked, beaming at Stelle who rolled her eyes.
Zalandri gave a light, musical laugh and smiled at Alistair, whose breath involuntarily caught in his throat. Maker's breath-
"Why don't we get you cleaned up and changed, child," Stelle helped Zalandri to her feet. "I've washed your clothes and hung them up to dry, and we'll find something suitable for you to wear in the meantime. Tell Duncan that I've taken her to the main house," she instructed Alistair, who nodded, standing up. "He's the one who tended to your wounds," she added to Zalandri.
"Thank you, serah," Zalandri said, bowing her head to Stelle. "And you as well, ser." She nodded at Alistair.
"No problem, no problem. Your little hawk friend has been waiting for you to wake all day," he told her. "Want to meet him?"
"I will, after getting sorted," she said, then pointed to the bowl on the table. "If you could give him those meats, he will warm to you." She smiled at the scratches on Alistair's arms, guessing correctly that Feren and inflicted them while he had tried to help her.
Alistair watched her leave with Stelle and went out into the dusk with the handful of meat. The little hawk was staring at him from the trees, and Alistair held his hand high.
"Come on, you little blighter," he called, "some snacks from your mistress!"
The hawk swooped down to perch on his arm, and Alistair handed him the strips of meat, being careful to avoid his fingers getting beaked. He noticed the hawk had a small scar on his leg that he used to clutch the meat with. When he was finished, the bird clicked his beak and looked at expectantly at Alistair, who laughed.
"No, that's all I have for you," he grinned, "You really are quick to warm up when there's food involved, aren't you? Go on now, she'll be with you soon." He released the bird back into the air, where it soared far above, circling steadily.
He went into the tavern, which was already lively and bustling with other Wardens, and soon found Duncan, who was sitting with a group of tired looking Wardens, all eating a portion of Stelle's hearty stew. He sat down across from the older man and greeted the others.
"She's awake. Stelle took her to get cleaned and dressed," Alistair grabbed a piece of bread and began to eat.
Duncan nodded over his bowl. "Good," he said, "Have you learned anything?"
Alistair shrugged. "She might be lying," he said, dipping the piece of bread into the broth of his neighbor's bowl despite an indignant grunt from its owner. "But she says she's a traveller, and she's come to Ferelden through the Free Marches, though she's not from there. Her name is Zalandri. She's studying the plants and animal life of regions she visits, which explains all the herbs we found on her."
Duncan raised his head, interested. "Zalandri?" he repeated. He looked thoughtful. "Hmm…" He noticed Alistair looking at him, waiting for an explanation. He hesitated, but continued.
"I have heard strange rumors lately, coming from the west, from Anderfels." He continued, slowly. "There was a time long ago when the ports of Anderfels could be seen with merchant ships arriving from across the Volcai sea, from unknown lands. Anderfels traders named them "Voshai". They were different from the people of Thedas. Human, but almost elf-like in their slim frames. They decorated their dark skin with lighter markings on their faces, and were described in one record with "bright eyes, as if there were a light shining from within". The merchants from the west were very interested in lyrium, and traded for a while, but stopped arriving. The goods they traded were highly valuable things; gold, beautiful weapons and armor - the blades they brought with them were said to be of the highest quality, always sharp, durable, but lightweight, and the wielders matched by none in speed and agility. Many expeditions set out from Anderfels to find the merchants' homeland, but it was never found. The expeditions were all forced to give up because of the heavy fog they encountered, and the waters were treacherous without vision. There are still records of trade with these people, however, and their names are very different from our own, as well. The name the traveller gave you reminds me of the names from the records… and her appearance…" Duncan trailed off, looking at his soup thoughtfully.
"You think she may be one of the Voshai?" Alistair asked, excitedly. He loved old lore and legends, and this was one he had never heard before.
"I am not certain," Duncan warned, "But I have heard rumors of ships arriving again at Anderfels, though the news is often dark and suspicious. Little is known of the lands they come from, but from early traders' gossip, the lands seemed not to have ever known a Blight as Thedas has."
"Never seen a Blight?" Alistair repeated. "How-"
"I do not know," Duncan finished his soup and stood. "If she will let me, I would like to talk to this Zalandri and learn more of where she came. Let us visit the main house to see if she is ready."
They walked up to the main house and were let inside by Stelle's husband, who grunted his greeting and went back to the fireplace with the mabari hound. They made their way upstairs to the guest chamber, and Duncan knocked before entering at Stelle's voice from within. Stelle was wringing out a towel through the window, and Zalandri stood in the middle of the room, inspecting her new clothing that Stelle had given her. She was dressed in a warm, wool shirt and slim trousers, and was standing barefoot next to a pair of felt slippers. Her hair was still damp from her bath, but she was no longer covered in blood, and seemed refreshed. She was small framed, though very fit, and only came up just above Alistair's shoulders. The little hawk sat perched outside the window.
Zalandri's orange eyes met Alistair's, who smiled back in surprise. They really are like lights he thought. Zalandri gave him a small smile and turned to Duncan.
"I assume you are Ser Duncan, who tended to my wounds," she said, voice like a smooth stream. Duncan bowed to her, and gave her a smile.
"Yes," he said, coming forward and looking her up and down. "It is good to see you well. The Darkspawn blades were not coated in poison as they so often are, thank Andraste."
"Darkspawn," said Zalandri, nodding. "I had heard tales of the beasts in my travels through Thedas, but that was my first time fighting them. I was ambushed by a horde, which i fought off, but unfortunately not without injury. I would have died if it weren't for you," she said, turning to Alistair with a sincere expression on her face. "Thank you." Alistair bowed and smiled. "And, I'm very sorry about your arm," she added, wincing slightly and smiling apologetically. "It was an automatic response. I'm glad you were able to find the antidote among my things in time."
Alistair laughed and shook his head, dismissing the fact. "I'm not surprised, I probably would have done the same thing."
She smiled at him again, and Duncan interjected.
"If I may," he said, and she turned to look at him. "I would like to ask a few things; the nature of your travels for instance. These are unstable times in Thedas, especially in Ferelden, and I would like to know a bit more about you. We can never have too much information about a stranger in these lands, you understand…"
"Of course," Zalandri nodded and sat down on the bed. "Stelle has told me about you, about the Grey Wardens and the Blight. These are foreign to me, as I come from a land where we have had no incident with a Blight, at least for many ages, long out of memory. I am Zalandri Jémes. I am from a land my people call Narukk, west of Anderfels, across the Volca sea." She smiled slightly in amusement here. "I believe your people of Anderfels call us Voshai. We have not traded with Thedas for many generations, as we have been… preoccupied." The way she said the last word made it clear she did not want to talk deeper on the subject. Duncan moved along.
"I know only a little of your people. Your lands are a mystery to us. Alistair told me that you are travelling to learn more on the wildlands of Thedas."
Zalandri confirmed this with another nod. "Yes, I am. I left Narukk amidst the political strife in order to travel and see the outside world. I am not as… invested as the rest of my family is in politics." She laughed lightly. "I prefer the company of animals and good people than squabbling nobles."
"Who doesn't?" Alistair put in, laughing. He was feeling relieved that Zalandri did not seem too suspicious a character, and he was excited to know more about Narukk, a land he did not know existed.
"Stelle tells me you are headed south, to Ostagar." Zalandri looked at Duncan, who nodded. "If I may, I would like to join you on your journey there. I was headed south as well, and would like to know more of this Blight that is plaguing your lands. I do not need protection. I can fight, and if I become a burden in anyway I will not be offended if you leave me behind."
Duncan looked thoughtfully at the young woman. After a minute he nodded, and said "That can be arranged. I would also like to know more about your travels and knowledge. We are leaving tomorrow morning, at dawn. Alistair can show you back to your things so you may pack, and I suggest you get a good night's sleep. Your body should be exhausted still after your wounds."
Duncan stood, bowed to Zalandri, who did the same, thanked Stelle for her help and bade her good night, nodded at Alistair, and left. Zalandri thanked Stelle profusely for her help and followed Alistair out of the house toward the room she had woken up in. They made small talk, formally introducing themselves again and Zalandri asked about his arm, which Alistair shrugged off with a joke. Zalandri was glad to find all of her things in order, besides one missing poison dart, which she decided she could make another time.
Alistair insisted that she could stay in the room, as he could find another cot to sleep in, and told her he would come for her at dawn.
"Well, that's that. Have a good night, serah, and I will see you in the morning!" he said, cheerfully.
"Zalandri." She smiled at him, and sat down on the bed. "Please, call me Zalandri. Or Zala, if you'd like."
"Ah, yes, of course." He nodded. "Zala. Or Zal? No, I suppose that sounds too much like Al, doesn't it? It would be odd if we had the same name…"
"Mm, yes, I think Al and Zala would sound better than Al and Zal," Zalandri teased with an amused grin. "But if I were to call for you, I would use Alistair. I think it sounds a bit fuller.. and it wouldn't ruin the mood." Her eyes flashed playfully, and Alistair found himself at a loss for words.
"Ah, er, I-I suppose…" He stammered. Zalandri laughed again.
"You may call me whatever you desire." She said, and stood up to bow to him. "Good night, Alistair."
Alistair composed himself and bowed back, somewhat awkwardly grinning. "Good night, Zala."
He left to find an empty room, and Zalandri readied her things for the morning and fell asleep, the pain in her ribs subsiding slowly through the night.