Chapter 11

The journey through the Brecilian Forest was a quiet and awkward one. Ronan was anxious and fumed silently in the lead, glancing back now and then to make sure Tristan was still following. Tristan, for his part, followed quietly, staring at the ground, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Melisende and Brenna both had decided to accompany the brothers, who didn't bar them from the journey nor neither did they encourage the girls to join them. Melisende kept well away from Tristan, still angry with him, and a little shamed at her outburst, though it had felt great at the time to let it loose. She also made it clear to Ronan that she was not pleased with him either, though she doubted if he even noticed, so anxious was he to get home. Brenna was the only one with a smile, besides Loki, who probably would have smiled if dogs could. Instead, Loki trotted alongside the group, wagging his tail and sniffing at the ground in curiousity. Brenna tried to lighten the mood several times, but it was no use and she eventually gave up.

The forest paths winded here and there, disappearing beneath ferns and leaves a few times. Melisende wondered how Ronan was even able to find his way home, it was all so confusing. But Ronan walked with an ease she had yet to see in him. He was sure of his place in the forest. He walked without hesitation, without having to pause to decide which path to take, or whether to stray off a path. For her part, Melisende would already have gotten lost. The forest was so bewildering. She guessed that was partially the point of the clan living in a large, overgrown, and wild forest such as this. It would take a lot of courage for somebody to invade this untouched wilderness and find the Dalish. But it was not impossible apparently, for Tristan had found his way to his mother's clan before. His mother's clan.

Melisende was still in disbelief at finding out that Ronan was Tristan's brother. Of all the possible reasons for Ronan to be chasing down Tristan for his mother, she never thought to think it was because of that. On hindsight, however, the signs were there. Besides sharing the same eyes, Ronan had many of the same mannerisms of Tristan, which surprised Melisende when she thought about it, because they had not grown up together, had not even know each other existed until this very year. But they were there, subtle as they were. She thought of the way Tristan used to run his hand through his hair when he was nervous and realized Ronan had also done that on a number of occasions. Watching them walk in front of her, she noticed how similar that graceful trot was too. It was funny how similar yet how different they were.

Ronan picked up the pace suddenly. Melisende figured they were almost at the Dalish camp. She was finding herself more than a little intrigued and excited to meet Siofra. She just hoped the woman was not as near death as Ronan made her out to be.

They made their way into a clearing, a cluster of aravels visible in the near distance. The camp was quiet. Ronan stopped in his tracks and looked around anxiously. It was too quiet.

"Something is wrong." Ronan whispered. He made his way closer to the village. The only noise audible was the pounding of their feet on the hard, cold ground, and the swaying of the trees in the faint wind.

Stranger even than the quiet was the emptiness of the village. Nobody came out to greet them and nobody peeked from out of their aravel. Even the hallas were gone. Ronan stopped by the great fire pit. It had burned itself out. Melisende could see Ronan growing tense, bunching up his fists and then drawing his sword. His frustration grew and then turned to worry as he went to each aravel, finding nothing and nobody.

Tristan hovered around the fire pit, examining the ground closely. Brenna came up to Melisende then. "There are signs of struggle everywhere." Brenna pointed out in a lowered voice. Melisende nodded her agreement as she took in the sight of one aravel in particular. The door flap was ripped open and things lay scattered about. There was even a bit of blood on the ground.

Ronan came back to them, a look of anger on his face. He walked up to Tristan, his sword pointed menacingly toward his brother's neck. Tristan did not flinch nor move away.

"This is your doing, shem'lin." Ronan growled.

"Yes, everything is my fault." Tristan retorted with a slight hint of sarcasm. He grabbed at Ronan's sword and lowered it slowly. Ronan glared at Tristan threateningly. Melisende held her breath. She would not let them fight. She got in between the two.

"You don't even know what happened here." Melisende pointed out to them both.

"Where are my people? They would not just up and leave. They have been attacked. I can see that. I am not blind." Ronan blurted out quickly.

At that moment, Loki let out a low growl, startling everyone. They turned their attention to Loki's gaze. A lone Dalish woman came carefully out of the woods, holding a small toddler in her arms. Ronan gasped in surprise and went running to her. The woman handed the toddler to Ronan and burst into sobs.

"Thank the gods you are home, Ronan," the woman managed to say. She clutched at Ronan desperately. Ronan put a comforting hand around her.

"Eleri, what has happened here?" he asked her. As she struggled for control over her emotions, Ronan brought her closer to the fire pit and sat her down on a log. The toddler, a pretty little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, he continued to hold. The girl smiled at Ronan and tugged at his hair as he focused on her mother.

"I was so frightened. I thought you were them…" Eleri tried to explain.

"You thought I was who?" Ronan prodded.

"The bad men… the…" Eleri sobbed, unable to go on. Her little girl began to squirm in Ronan's arms, distressed by her mother's increasing sobs.

"Who?" Ronan asked impatiently.

"Ronan, the woman is clearly shocked, give her time to answer." Melisende said. Ronan looked up at Melisende with a frown. Brenna, in the meantime, walked over to Ronan and motioned for him to hand over the girl. Ronan did so and then focused again on Eleri.

"Eleri, please tell me what happened. How can I help you if you just sit there and cry?" Ronan begged.

Eleri nodded and then swallowed back a sob, wiping away at her tears. "I was in the forest with my girl, gathering herbs. I was on my way back when Rhys told me to stay away. I saw the village. Rhys tried to hide my view. But I saw. There were men there. They were very big. I think… I think some of them were Qunari. Some of our hunters were fighting back, but there was a mage. A powerful mage. He did something and had everyone tied up… they were slavers, Ronan. They were slavers," and with that Eleri broke down again.

"Slavers!" Ronan exclaimed and sat up. He cursed and spat on the ground. He paced furiously, a look of intense hatred on his face.

"Did they take everyone?" he asked.

Eleri shook her head. "Some of us got away. Rhys managed to send some of us away into the forest before the slavers could get us. They are all hiding near the ruins."

"My mother, my father?" Ronan asked.

Eleri shook her head and looked sadly at the ground. "I'm sorry Ronan, they took them."

Ronan let out a roar. Melisende desperately wanted to do something to comfort him, but he was beyond help at the moment. He had a murderous glint in his eyes, muttering something in Dalish. To Melisende, it sounded like nan. He stalked away to the other side of the village. It was best to give him time alone, to calm down.

"Why aren't you hiding in the forest?" Tristan kindly asked of Eleri.

She turned to him a little shyly. "Rhys is my husband. He followed the slavers. I wanted to be here when he came back…he went alone." To Melisende it seemed that Eleri had recognized Tristan at that moment. "You… you are the Grey Warden, right? You have to help us. Please, go after Rhys. He is alone. What can he do alone?"

"I will help." Tristan readily agreed.

"Ma serannas, Grey Warden." Eleri thanked Tristan.

"Somebody should check on Ronan…" Melisende mentioned, a little worried for him. She knew only too well what it felt like for your home to be attacked. She would have gone after him herself, but Eleri arose.

"I will go to him. I know him well." Eleri went over to Brenna, who handed the toddler back to her mother. With an appreciative nod, Eleri left in Ronan's direction.

"This is horrible." Brenna said, walking over to Tristan. They all took a seat around the fire pit, pondering in silence the implications of what had happened. Slavers, in Ferelden? They had the nerve. They could only be Tevinter. The Imperium still allowed slavery. And they had Qunari mercenaries. Odd, considering the Tevinter Imperium and the Qunari were in constant warfare with one another. But then again, mercenaries had no allegiances but to coin. Alistair would be furious if he knew that this had happened in his kingdom.

After a little while, Melisende got tired of waiting for Ronan to come back. "I have to check on him…" she said. Tristan looked at her in surprise and concern.

"Mel, are you alright?" he asked her. He was staring at her with pity. She shrugged him off.

"Yes, of course I'm alright." She lied. She knew what he was thinking because she was thinking it too. This village being attacked, it brought back a lot of horrible memories for her. Memories she thought she had long ago buried. Her home and everyone she loved had been attacked, betrayed… she refused to go down that road again. She stood up. "Don't worry about me, Tristan. If anything, I should be asking you – this is your family…"

"No, I mean, yes, but… " Tristan struggled to explain. Melisende could see that he was horrified by what had happened here, but there was another emotion there, one she couldn't put her finger on. Guilt, perhaps? She remembered the expression on his face after she had awoken from the assassination attempt – it was very similar to what it was now. Finally, Tristan sighed and shrugged. "Go to him then."

Melisende hesitated at first, but Tristan waved her away. Glancing at Brenna by his side, who made a faint reassuring gesture with her head, Melisende nodded and then anxiously made her way over to the other side of the village.

…

"Do you feel as miserable as you look?" Brenna asked Tristan after Melisende had left.

"What?" Tristan cracked a pathetic half smile in an attempt to brush off any of her concerns. He did feel miserable. Who wouldn't after seeing what happened? "This is my normal face."

They sat in silence for a few moments, with Brenna not impressed at Tristan's measly attempt at humour. She crept closer to him.

"It's not your fault, you know," she placed a hand on his forearm.

"Of course it is. Didn't you hear Ronan? Everything that is good, I mess up. Including this village." Tristan replied. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them. He really did not feel like getting into a conversation with Brenna. She had badgered him for so long about his feelings. It was getting harder and harder to deny her.

"That's not true." Brenna reassured him.

"Oh? How would you know? My mother, her whole clan may be sold into slavery far away from their home. They might as well be dead. I could have prevented it. Ronan could have, if I had just done my duty and gone straight back to the Keep." Tristan angrily retorted.

"But you didn't know this would happen."
"Right. Whatever you say Brenna."

"I'm only trying to help." Brenna pouted.

"Beware, Brenna," Tristan sent a warning look at Brenna, "You should leave my side while you still can. Maker knows I already messed up your life."

"How could you say that?" Brenna asked in disbelief.

"Because that's what I do. Look what happened with Leliana. I lied to her. I betrayed her even though I loved her. I have a child, you know. I'll probably manage to mess up his life too, even from afar."

Brenna regarded Tristan in puzzlement. He wanted her to stop liking him. He wanted her to know that he was not perfect, not even close. Too many people thought that of him. But they didn't know him. He knew that he would only hurt her if she continued to follow him around. He couldn't be whatever she wanted him to be.

"Tristan, shut up." Brenna said sternly. "You said it before, nobody is perfect."

"You want more evidence?" Tristan continued.

"No, stop." Brenna hissed.

"The darkspawn taint, it eats away at me. Every day I come closer to becoming a monster, one step closer to my calling. Did you know what that was? I will have to leave for the Deep Roads eventually, to die, or else I will change, and not for the better. I didn't want to put Leliana through that. I don't want to put anyone through that. I should have just died during the Blight, like I was supposed to. Instead, like a coward, I went through with a ritual concocted by Morrigan. That's why I am not a hero… I couldn't even make the greatest sacrifice a Grey Warden could make – my life for the archdemon's. I can't even be a proper Grey Warden. Now do you understand?" Honestly, he couldn't believe he had just said that. He had never meant to let everything out.

"Tristan…" Brenna began.

"Really, Brenna," Tristan interrupted. "You should leave before I further ruin your life."

"You haven't done anything to me!" Brenna said in frustration.

"Isn't that the point, though? I see how you look at me. I know how you feel about me. In truth, it puzzles me. You are better off without me. I will only hurt you. I have been leading you on cruelly already, accepting your hospitality. I even tempted you when I knew it would go nowhere…" Brenna shook her head and held up her hand to command Tristan to silence. But he continued on anyway. "I have lied to you, too. Your father… he is from this clan. He died because of me."

Brenna opened her mouth in surprise, momentarily speechless.

"He was my mother's brother-in-law. Your mother was the widow that took my mother in. Your father, he fought off bandits to the death. He was on his way to Lothering, with me."

Brenna looked thoughtful and took her time to reply. Finally, after a few moments, she chose her words carefully. "Tristan, I don't know what you are trying to do here. I don't know why you are trying to be so cruel to me. But you will shut up because I have so many things to say to you. First, I never knew my father. I only ever heard great things about him. If my father hadn't died saving you, for why else would he take on a group of bandits unless they wanted something from him, which could have been you, then who would have saved the world? And that no matter how it was done, the Blight was ended, thanks to you. You rallied the country together when it was torn apart by civil war, you fought the darkspawn, you struck the killing blow. I understand why you went through with Morrigan's ritual, whatever it was. For love. Of Leliana, of your fellow wardens. That was not selfish." She paused to give him a reassuring look and then continued.

"Life is short, I live in the moment. I don't worry about the far off future. We all have to die one day, one way or another. If you deprive yourself of the sweetness of life's little gifts, like love, in order to avoid future pain, then what kind of life is that? When you go to your calling, for I always knew about that… wouldn't you rather have lived a happy life, knowing you did everything you could to the best of your abilities, loving everyone, your friends, your family, your … lovers, to the fullest? Rather than having lived a miserable, lonely existence, running from your duties, for non-existent shame, from your friends, your family, to spare them a parting they would face anyway, Grey Warden or not? I don't know what Leliana would say, but I know that I would rather have a lifetime with you, darkspawn taint, transformation, calling, and all, instead of one without you at all…"

Tristan looked at her in surprise and shame. Here he was trying to push her away and she wouldn't have any of it. She even, sort of, had declared her love for him. Why? But she had a point, in everything that she said. She didn't know all the little details, but somehow she had grasped it all. "Brenna," he said, grabbing her hand, "you make sense…"

"Of course I do…" Brenna replied.

"Thank you. You are a good friend and I am a bastard." He said, a little embarrassed now. He had revealed far too much to her. Er, did I just say she was a good friend? I bet she wasn't expecting that after… all that. Tristan thought in shame. He didn't know how he felt about Brenna. In any case, she didn't look offended at his comments.

"Just push these dark thoughts out of your mind. You have a job to do now and you can't continue moping around. Things are not as bleak as you make them out to be. Your mother and her clan can be saved." Brenna stated confidently. She was right. He had to stop thinking like this. It had become an obsession lately, to feel sorry for himself, he admitted that much. There was no reason to feel that way. His life, though it was nothing he had ever expected it to be, was better than he could have imagined. He had to stop worrying about the past and even the future. He had to live in the moment, for the moment. It would be hard, but he was sure he could manage it. He had made many mistakes. They could, with a little effort, all be put to right. At the moment, however, he had to make amends with his mother, but first, he had to track her down and save her from a fate worse than death.

"I hope you are right," he replied with a sigh.

…

Melisende tread lightly to the other side of the village and then stopped completely. Perhaps she should just let Eleri calm Ronan down. Knowing Ronan's hatred of humans, and considering the fact that Tevinter slavers were human, he might not want to be comforted by her. She fingered her hair in contemplation. She considered turning back, but then saw that Brenna and Tristan were in deep conversation. It didn't look very jovial. Perhaps they needed time alone? Melisende wasn't sure about the type of relationship Tristan had with the woman, but Brenna seemed an alright type. She didn't want to interrupt them.

Caught in between, Melisende decided to just dawdle where she was. She leaned against a tree and took note of her surroundings. She started to count the number of leaves left on a branch above her head to pass the time. And then she heard it – a soft and soothing melody. She perked up in surprise and slowly followed the tune. Was that Ronan?

Hiding behind an aravel, Melisende came upon Ronan, Eleri, and Eleri's young daughter. The sweet melody – an elven lullaby most likely – was coming from Ronan. He sat cross-legged on the ground, holding the little girl in his arms, his back to Melisende. For her part, the little girl was mesmerized by Ronan and was slowly drifting into sleep. Eleri smiled gratefully upon Ronan. Her face was dry now, but tear stained nonetheless.

Melisende, too, was intrigued. She remembered Ronan speaking of children with disdain and here he was gently singing a lullaby to one. It must have been his bravado speaking that day in Gwaren. And his voice, it was pure and would put any court bard to shame. He even rivaled Leliana. The way that Ronan had stalked off, Melisende didn't think that he could have calmed down so quickly.

As the lullaby came to an end, Melisende backed away slowly. She didn't think he would have wanted her to hear or see that. It seemed quite personal and Melisende felt like an intruder. She quickly made her way back to the fire pit. She would check on Ronan later, when he returned.