Our heroes return to Ostagar following their successful adventure of the Prologue...
Perched high in the pine-covered hills, the fortress of Ostagar was a hive of activity. Teams of surface dwarves oversaw gangs of elves, shifting cut stone from the Imperial Highway to here, then shuttling it around to different work sites. Sturdy cranes loomed higher than the granite walls, perfectly-shaped white blocks dangling from them like children's toys.
The Dalish had no particular confidence that the humans wouldn't eventually try and take this land from them, too.
"How do they pay all those dwarves, anyway?" Finn asked, watching a work team as they passed it by. "They're not selling the artifacts we bring back, are they?"
"No!" The two Dalish replied simultaneously, scandalized. "I traded for it," Vashti said, glowering at Finn.
"You traded for... enough labor to rebuild Ostagar? That's impossible!" Finn gestured broadly, encompassing all the ongoing bustle. "This must be worth the ransom of a king. Several kings! A kingdom, even! What could you possibly trade for that?"
"Kal'Hirol," the Grey Warden said, looking away with a slight smile.
"But... oh." Finn paused. "I see. Yes, I suppose... that might do it."
Ariane hid a smile behind her hand. The longer she traveled with Vashti, the harder it got to remember that this was the Hero of Ferelden, Blight-queller, Warden Commander. The hunter always insisted that she was just Fen'Harel's chew-stick, in the wrong place at the right time.
Speaking of chew-sticks... As they entered the newly-roofed Great Hall, the Warden's mabari hound let out a joyful bark and ran down its length toward them. Vashti dropped to one knee to greet him, far more affectionately than she treated... well, anyone Ariane could think of.
A murmur swept up the hall like a windy ripple moving through tall grass as their entrance was noticed. "We found it!" Ariane called, eager to announce their victory. "The Urn of Felas'era!" The gathered elves - mostly Keepers and hahren - cheered, while a few dwarves waited politely for everyone to get back to business. The best antiquarians were sent for, and people began to crowd around, eager to hear the tale of the adventure.
"I'm not the tallest one in the room today?" Finn suddenly murmured, surprised. "Who's that?" He nodded in the direction of a large human man, standing back from the general crowd but observing with a look of keen anticipation.
Dog looked at Finn and barked smartly. He danced a little turn in front of Vashti (jostling dour Keeper Rynlas, Ariane noted with amusement), pranced a few steps away and turned back with another bark. The Grey Warden rose, familiar with this routine, and looked up in the direction he was headed. Her eyes went wide. "Alistair?"
The big man smiled widely and took this as leave to approach. Ariane stared a little. "Alistair? Warden Alistair? The one who fought the Archdemon with you?"
Vashti nodded. Dog barked and wagged his stub tail enthusiastically. Finn leaned down over Ariane's shoulder. "I want to hear the good parts later," he said quietly, before straightening up and calling more loudly, "This treasure, although ancient and mysterious and many other worthy things, is also made of veridium and quite heavy. If we could all move further down to the Path of the Ancestors... I see there's an open niche... please let me put this down and I will be more than happy to relate my record of our expedition to the loremasters. This way, this way please..." The crowd shuffled off after Finn and the glittering urn, leaving Ariane and the two Wardens alone.
"Vashti." He approached with one arm outstretched, and the Dalish hunter reached out to clasp his forearm. "It's good to see you."
She looked... not exactly unhappy, but somewhat resigned, Ariane thought. "Andaran atish'an, Alistair. Are you here to recall me to duty?"
"Always straight to business with you, right?" He chuckled good-naturedly. "No, don't worry about that. I'm here as a glorified errand boy for Commander Howe, with a present for you."
"A present?"
"Unbelievable, isn't it? The dog refused to believe it, either. Because he's such a smart boy." He grinned down at the mabari, who slapped the ground with his front paws in response to the attention. "Aren't you? Yes you are! So," he looked back up, "we're quite caught up. But I don't believe we've met." He sketched a brief bow in Ariane's direction. "Alistair of the Grey Wardens."
"Ariane, of Solan's clan," she replied slowly. She couldn't decide if his easy manner came from an excess of natural good humor or the arrogance of a human among elves. He did know the Dalish weren't city elves with odd tattoos, didn't he? "It's funny; I didn't realize it, but I always pictured you as an elf."
"Always pictured me...? Have you been telling tales?" he asked Vashti. "Not the ones where I look like an idiot, I hope."
"I save those for special occasions," Vashti deadpanned.
"Snow is very slippery," Alistair told Ariane earnestly. "And it's hard to climb in armor with a shield strapped on."
"I'll... keep that in mind?"
"Great! Well. Let's take care of business and maybe I can hear some tales about your adventures. Just to even things out." Creators, did the man ever stop smiling?
"There's other business," Vashti said suddenly. "About Morrigan."
That sobered the other Warden up in a hurry. "Morrigan? You... found her? And... and the... the... you know." He glanced apologetically at Ariane. "Sorry. It's sort of Grey Warden business."
"The eluvian?" Ariane guessed, determined to prove... something. "Or no... the boy?"
She was not expecting the sudden raw pain that crossed his face. "It's a boy?" he asked, sounding a little distant.
Vashti was scowling at her. And not her habitual scowl, either, but one with real anger behind it. "Ir abelas," Ariane apologized quickly, holding up both hands palm-out. "I've... spoken out of turn, I think. I'll... I'll be quiet now."
"Ma serannas," Vashti gritted. "Abelas, but my blood-brother and I must speak alone, Ariane. I will look for you later by the Warden's Fire." She turned on her heel sharply and marched back toward the door, Dog trotting happily alongside.
Alistair took a step to follow after her, then looked back at the Dalish warrior. "Sorry," he said, before hurrying along, and she wondered why he was apologizing to her.
"Have I mentioned that I love what you've done with the place?" was the last thing she heard before they were all three out the door into the courtyard.
Ariane sighed. That could have gone better.
She paced slowly down the Great Hall, passing the relics stationed along the Path of the Ancestors. Her clan's book was there, as were the eluvian and the Lights of Arlathan. Vashti had turned over the Veshaille for display as well; she'd said it was reckless for her to carry it into danger so often, particularly when she did not even use it frequently. The great bow, Sorrows of Arlathan, rested on a dragonbone stand Vashti had carved herself. She'd parted with the bow with far more reluctance than she had the Veshaille, but it would have been too great a tragedy to lose it on the road somewhere. The ancient Brecilian armor, the set finally complete, glittered in its shadowed recess. Ariane's own armor was modeled on it, a new suit made from an old pattern.
Piece by piece, they were reclaiming the heritage of Arlathan.
The magical belt, Andruil's Blessing, that had been purchased from the Circle Tower lay coiled in its niche. Next to it lay a pile of crystal shards, the remains of a phylactery that had housed the spirit of an elf from a mysterious bygone era, and a manuscript that contained the final teachings of that spirit. A collection of ancient dar'missan, a bow older than Denerim, and - controversially - a lyrium-inscribed breastplate made for a Tevinter general. But it had been found in elven ruins...
Finn was still lecturing on their latest acquisition. Keeper Lanaya was listening eagerly, asking questions about Finn's research and sources. Her own Keeper, Solan... he stood with his arms crossed and his face closed. Ariane knew that it pained him, and some of the others, to be instructed in their own history by a human. Ariane thought it was unfair herself, but since when had life been fair to the Dalish? Things were the way they were, and the Tevinter records that contained most of the existing references to the ancient elves were in human hands. Finn spoke and read Arcanum as well as any Tevinter, a brag no Dalish she knew could make.
And... he really was a scholar without borders, she thought. If he hadn't met up with her and Vashti, he might be presenting his research to the enchanters of the Circle Tower. But he was equally happy to present it here, out in the Wilds, to a people considered savage by the rest of Ferelden, because he saw in the Keepers and hahren fellow scholars with a keen interest in his work. It wouldn't occur to him that the knowledge should be kept to the Tower, secrets to make them more powerful.
Not that he couldn't still be an utter ass around anyone who wasn't a fellow scholar.
He was still quoting translations from Tevinter scrolls; he hadn't even started talking about their actual adventure yet. This was going to be a while, and frankly, she'd either heard it or been there for it. She turned and walked back down the hall, leaving and quietly shutting the door behind her.
Vashti found her an hour or so later. The Warden's Fire was a focal point in the courtyard, a large bonfire kept burning for practical and symbolic reasons. Most Dalish assumed it was named for their Warden, but Vashti had told her that this was the spot where the old Warden-Commander Duncan had made his camp, before the terrible battle.
Ariane raked a covered clay pot out of the coals. "I made some dinner," she said, wondering if her earlier mis-step could just be overlooked. "Where's your friend?"
"Alone for now. I will bring him something to eat." She fell silent as Ariane split the contents of the pot between three bowls. "I'm a Warden-Commander again."
Ariane nearly dropped the ladle. "What? But he said all he brought was a gift! Are they making you go back to the Vigil?"
Vashti gave a small smile; no, a smirk. "Warden-Commander of the Dalish Wardens. Whenever we get some."
"Oh!" Ariane laughed with some relief. "Well, congratulations, Commander!"
"And the First Warden agrees that it is appropriate for the Warden-Commander of the Dalish to carry... this." Vashti reached over her shoulder to draw a fine dar'missan, its blade rippling with purple-black folds of dragonbone. "I almost stole this from the Vigil," she admitted, "but it belongs as much to the Wardens as to the elves. This is Dumat's Spine, forged just after the end of the First Blight."
"Just after... before the revolution, even?"
"Yes. Even while we were slaves, some of us were Grey Wardens," she said quietly, tilting the blade so that the firelight ran along it.
"Is it... is it really...?"
"The bone of the first Archdemon?" Vashti finished it for her and shrugged. "None can say. It has always been called this, according to the records, but perhaps the name is a symbol." She looked sideways at Ariane, dark eyes glittering in the dancing light. "The records also speak of a companion dar'misu, Dumat's Claw. Alistair was kind enough to bring those records with him. It seems to have been... misplaced about a hundred years ago."
"Warden-Commander, I think the dignity of your office demands a matched set of weapons," Ariane said slyly.
"We should find it," Vashti agreed. "Finn has no other leads as solid or as recent, I think."
Ariane hesitated. "Will your friend be joining us?"
"I do not think so."
Another pause. Ariane swallowed and looked down at her feet. Vashti would let it pass without remark, but then it would just be squatting there for days and days. "I'm sorry I... said what I did. I didn't mean to hurt him with my words."
To her surprise, Vashti shook her head. "Ma serannas, Ariane, but no apology is needed. You were there, you heard what was said, and I never asked that you keep it in confidence." The Warden sheathed the blade and stooped to pick up two bowls of stewed quail and roots. "But you need not be jealous of him."
Ariane opened her mouth to protest, but Vashti kept smoothly on. "With him, I may not share certain things of the elvhenan. With you, I may not share certain things of the Wardens. That is how it is."
Ariane checked herself and simply nodded. "Ma nuvenin," she said. "I understand. Or I will try to."
"Ma serranas, lethallan." The Warden turned to go, perhaps purposefully missing Ariane's somewhat stunned look.
She had never heard Vashti call anyone lethallan before.
Tune in next time, as tales of the Grey Wardens and the Black Fox intertwine in Legends!