Aha! I have finished it, I told you I would never abandon this story. My ultimate goal is to be good enough to get a mention on Tvtrope's fanfic recommendation page for Dragon Age.
Okay before we start this chapter, I must thank WendWriter for betaing my work. She is an awesome beta that caught so many little grammar errors that would have killed me. However I am sad to say that she has left FFN for personal reasons, if anyone is interested in being my beta then please pm me.
And I have a warning, there will be yaoi, het and yuri in this story, most if it will be minor. I don't like Yaoi so it will be limited to vague references, and there will be vague references of yuri and one side pairing of it.
I do this only to add a sense of accuracy to canon(and I don't want to be hypocritical by adding yuri and not putting in some yaoi references.. In the Dragon Age world or Thedas, they have a unique view on homosexuality. Fereldans consider it odd but not uncommon, Orlesians view it as a quirk of character and Antivans actually encourage it to an extent.
So there I've warned you, don't like it, then leave.
Now onto chapter two!
Vir Tanadahl, the way of three trees.
Vir Assan, fly straight and do not waver
Vir Bor'Assan, bend but never break
Vir Adahlen, together we are stronger than the one.
()
Neria did not like the position she was in at all. Mages dreamed differently than normal people, they entered the Fade when they dreamed though instead of being physical they were subjected to random emotions and feelings from the various spirits.
In most cases, the feelings were those of fortitude, justice, and compassion. However when a mage was troubled, darker emotions would batter their mental defenses mercilessly, attempting to draw them in and torment them.
And of course with her already stressed and weakened mental state, Neria was having enough trouble trying to keep her fragile wards up.
Although the mere fact that she needed to keep her wards up meant she was alive, though she didn't really understand why. Maybe the Templars were ordered to bring her back to the Circle. If so what would happen then, would she be turned into a Tranquil and left without feeling or emotion?
Neria really didn't want to think about it, but at that moment her biological clock deemed it time for her to return to consciousness.
The first thing Neria noticed when she woke was that besides the usual drowsiness one had when they woke, she was only sore. What had happened to her injuries, both internal and external?
The next thing she noticed were the voices; people were talking near her, though since she hadn't yet opened her eyes they must have assumed she was still out of it.
"So, do you think she's available," one of the voices, male by the sound, joked casually.
"Shut up, I won't have you harass the poor girl after all she's been through Tamlen," another voice, female, cut in sharply.
The first voice chuckled and there was a slight sound of shifting.
"Lighten up, Merrill I'm only kidding," the first voice, Tamlen, joked again, "Besides it's Fenarel who you need to worry about."
"Laugh it up Tamlen, but refresh my memory, who was it that decided to try and peek on the women while they bathed only to discover Hahren Marethari instead?"
The ones Neria had identified as Merrill and Fenarel both laughed loudly while Tamlen sputtered an indignant curse at the other male. Beyond the voices she could hear a clearly amused howl.
Neria mentally cheered, Merrill and Fenarel were elven names, somehow she had been rescued by elves, hopefully Dalish elves, though the mere fact that they weren't Templars was something to be thankful for.
The wagon, for that was the only reasonable explanation for why she was moving on wood, bumped suddenly and let out a shout as her head was bounced around.
"Oh look, she's awake," a new, gruff, voice commented idly.
"What! Fenarel, Aleol, go find Hahren Marethari quick!" Merrill shouted.
She could hear the rustling of feet and that strange barking as she sat up. She instantly regretted it as the world spun and she immediately laid back down, now groaning from the nausea.
"Settle down, Hahren Marethari will be here soon," Merrill soothed, placing a moist cloth onto her forehead.
Neria breathed a sigh of relief as the cool water relieved her throbbing head, if only a bit. For a few moments she just laid there and let the cloth do its work but after a few minutes someone entered the wagon and sent Merrill away.
"Drink this child, it will ease the nausea."
A cup was placed at the edge of her lips and she slowly parted them. The liquid was cool and slightly tangy but almost immediately the nausea was gone and she slowly sat up. Tentatively opening her eyes she saw the face of an elderly woman with gray eyes and an intricate tattoo across her face, pointed ears framed her elderly visage.
She had done it! These were Dalish, just like in the texts and tomes she had always read. She couldn't help the grin that stretched across her face and had to forcibly resist the urge to jump up, her muscles were still sore.
"You gave us quite the scare da'len, but you are safe now. Keeper Mahariel and a hunting party found you three days ago and saved you from the shemlen."
"Then I really found the Dalish? I'm really safe!"
It was odd; she felt something, something strange. For almost her entire life she had lived in the Tower, surrounded by her fellow prisoners and guards who regulated everything they did.
Now she was finally free of that life, free to live for herself. Neria couldn't help it, tears brimmed in her eyes and she hugged the woman, crying freely.
She felt gentle hands wrap around her as Marethari whispered comforting words as they both just sat there.
Eventually Neria regained control of herself and sheepishly pulled back.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Neria muttered, eyes down.
Marethari chuckled and smiled warmly.
"Oh no, I understand. Can you sit up." she asked, changing the subject.
Neria nodded, still a bit ashamed of her temporary loss of control and sat up, her muscles protesting each step.
She still couldn't believe she was safe and crawled over to the edge of the wagon, moving the curtain out of the way.
And immediately stopped, staring in awe at what she saw.
Wagons, at least two dozen of them traveling in neat orderly rows through a thick forest, the trees themselves seemed to move as if by magic. Neria blinked and then chuckled, this was magic, she was looking at Dalish magic, moving the trees from their path. She looked behind the wagon and saw the trees moving back into place in the distance.
Neria looked forward again, her eyes showing the joy on her face. She been with the Dalish for less than half a day, consciously at least, and already she was learning so many new things.
"Well hello there, its about time you woke up." A new voice chimed from below her.
Neria looked down to see another elf with short red hair and even more tattoos than Marethari, sitting on a set of flat boards.
"What's your name," she said, offering a hand, "I'm Maren, and I keep the Halla for the clan."
"I'm Neria, but what are halla?" Neria asked as she shook hands with Maren.
Maren's face lit up and she gestured for Neria to sit beside her. Neria did so and Maren immediately pointed out the Halla.
Neria blinked wondering how she missed the two gigantic white stags in front of her. They were pulling the wagon and both showed no signs of being even slightly tired, she looked at the wagons in front of her and noticed they too were being pulled by Halla.
"Halla, the children of the goddess Ghilan'nain, it is said that Ghilan'nain was one of the elves in the days before Arlathan and was the chosen of Andruil the goddess of the hunt, and most favored by Andruil herself. One day Andruil discovered a hunter she did not know, a hawk at his feet shot straight through the heart with an arrow. Ghilan'nain in a rage, demanded the hunter make an offering to Andruil for killing one of her sacred creatures. The hunter refused and Ghilan'nain called upon the Goddess to curse him."
Neria said nothing, too intent on hearing the story. In the Circle, the Chantry regulated all the books they received, she knew a lot about the Maker and the Chantry but very little about the Dalish.
Encouraged by her silence Maren continued.
"Ghilan'nain's curse proved true and the hunter could not hunt again. His prey eluded him, his arrows went astray. Friends and family alike mocked him, for what use is a hunter who cannot hunt? Angry and humiliated the hunter swore revenge on Ghilan'nain. So one day when she was with her sisters the hunter appeared and lured her away with lies, he told Ghilan'nain that he had learned his lesson and wanted her to teach him how to properly make an offering to Andruil."
Here Maren stopped and stared at her mischievously. Neria scowled, she wanted to hear the end of the story. Maren laughed at her angry expression and continued.
"Moved by his story, Ghilan'nain followed the hunter and when they were far enough away he turned on her and attacked, since he could not kill her, he blinded her and bound her feet like one would a fresh kill and left her for dead in the forest."
Neria leaned forward, she wanted to hear the end, everything was so fascinating, what happened, how did it end? She needed to know.
"Ghilan'nain prayed to Andruil for deliverance and Andruil sent hares to chew through her binds. However Ghilan'nain was still blinded and hurt, and could not find her way home. So Andruil in her mercy turned Ghilan'nain into a beautiful white deer-the first halla. Ghilan'nain went back to her sisters and led them to the hunter who was brought to justice."
Maren finished the story with a smile.
"Since then the halla have guided us and have never led us astray."
Neria smiled back, it was a wonderful story.
"Thank you for telling me such a fascinating tale." She said and turned to look at the halla in front of her, they were certainly majestic creatures.
Maren nodded and gave her a pat on the back.
"It's no problem, I love telling stories about these fine creatures, especially to people who don't know. You're the talk of the clan, we always accept wayward elves into our clan, mages however are unusual. Templars usually catch them before they can find a clan, you my friend are lucky."
And as she finished, Neria looked around and once again realized that in her excitement she had missed something. Up and down along the caravan were more elves walking alongside the aravals, bows and quivers slung on their backs and swords at their belts.
Maren laughed loudly at her predicament and she flushed in embarrassment.
"Ah, don't worry about it, everything will pass in time. I imagine Keeper Mahariel will want to speak with you when we stop for the day."
Suddenly the lead aravel stopped while the rest began to divert around it.
"Ah what do you know, we're stopping, just sit tight kid."
Maren's focus now turned to steering the aravel and Neria closed her eyes, taking in all the different smells, grass, wood, and leather colored with faint traces of herbs, and the halla. She could hear laughter, hear the sound of people setting up the camp.
The aravel stopped and Maren jumped down to secure the wagon. She nodded up at Neria who slowly slipped down and immediately her legs felt like rocks and she tumbled. Maren was at her side in an instant.
"I'm fine, my legs are just really sore." She answered Maren's unspoken question.
Maren nodded and grabbed a random passerby.
"Junar, take Neria to the Keeper and be quick about it."
The elf nodded his head in reply.
"Ma nuvenin Maren." He said and gave her a quick smile before he gently grabbed her shoulder and lifted. She marveled at how strong he was as he easily supported her wait as they went to see the Keeper.
As they walked, Neria took notice of the elves and how they all turned to stare as she passed. Embarrassed she averted her eyes and absently traced a hand through her red hair. They stopped in front of an aravel more elaborate than the others.
Junar stopped in front of an older elf.
"Keeper Mahariel, this is Neria, you did say you wished to speak with her."
Mahariel looked at her, his grey eyes seeming to stare into her very soul. Finally he nodded to Junar.
"Ma serannas Junar, please help her into the aravel."
"Ma nuvenin Keeper." Junar replied and quickly helped Neria into the aravel. He gave her a quick nod and left.
She looked around noting all the scrolls and tomes stacked around the inside of the aravel and felt her curiosity spike.
Before her curiosity won out, Mahariel entered the aravel and seated himself across from her, again those grey eyes stared at her, seeming to strip away her defenses and see into her soul. Finally he offered a small smile, running a hand across the tattoo covering his right eye and into his black hair.
"It's good to see you awake, me and some hunters found you in the temple and forced the Templars to let you go. "
Neria just listened, she had wanted to know how she had escaped, if only for closure's sake.
"We brought you back to the clan and healed your wounds. Now I assume you are interested in joining our clan Miss-" he trailed off looking at her expectantly.
"Neria, my name is Neria Surana." She replied slowly.
He nodded.
"Well Neria I am Isym Mahariel, Keeper of my clan. I would be happy to accept you into the clan, but you need training before you can officially be a member of the clan. Every member of the clan must be knowledgeable in the Dalish lore, be able to fight with both the bow and the blade, and hunt. Are you willing to do this?"
Neria nodded quickly, of course she was willing, she had gone so far to get here. There was no way she would give up now.
He looked at her and smiled amusedly.
"Obviously you're muscles are still too sore so we'll have to wait for the physical training. Until then you will learn lore and our language from Hahren Marethari in the morning, cooking with Ashalle in the afternoon and in the evenings you will join my apprentice Merrill and learn magic."
Neria grinned, she loved knowledge and learning. Isym had unknowingly just given her the best regimen in the world. She vowed then and there she would through herself into this knowledge.
Isym seemed to sense her enthusiasm because he gave her a knowing glance.
"Your first lesson begins now, please come in Merrill."
Neria turned in time to see Merrill enter the aravel, black hair framing a calm face; she gave Neria a quick glance and nodded smiling softly.
"Hello, I am Merrill." She said smoothly and Neria felt a small pang of jealousy, Merrill seemed to be everything Neria had ever wanted to be, calm, self-assured, beautiful, and more importantly, free. But she shook that thought away, she was better than that, she had to be.
So she smiled even thought it felt fake and extended her arm.
"Neria Surana, a pleasure to meet you Merrill."
Isym smiled and gave a loud clap. Instantly they turned their attention to him and the lesson began.
Hours seemed to go by as Neria learned things that her teachers at the Circle would never say, or at least never say where the Templars could hear them. Isym acknowledged she didn't that she was behind in terms of knowledge so he went back and explained theories of magic she had never heard, she learned about spells she didn't even know existed. Isym was a great teacher, explaining everything in great detail and with the utmost patience.
She ate everything up, she wanted, needed, craved knowledge. Back at the Circle she spent much of her time learning in the library, sometimes spending days doing nothing but sitting in the library reading book after book, absorbing the knowledge.
Now new knowledge was being presented to her and it was like her personality had done a 180 degree switch.
But eventually everything had to end and Isym ended the session, promising to do some practical applications the next day. Merrill helped her down from the aravel and turned to her.
"You must be hungry let's go and get something to eat." She said and Neria's stomach chose that moment to growl.
"Yeah, I'm starving." She replied and together they walked toward a nearby campfire. By this time she was used to the soreness and could walk on her own, though it was slow and she sometimes stumbled.
There were four figures already around the fire but Merrill seemed intent on steering them there.
The first was a young elf with short blond hair and a cocky smirk on his face. Neria was reminded a bit of Jowan when they were younger he was so cocky, always getting himself into trouble.
She felt a pang of sorrow at his name, she wondered where he was now. Was he alive, was he okay? Did he still think about her? All of these questions swam through her mind.
The elf beside him, another male, also had short blond hair but seemed to be the more focused of the two. He turned almost immediately and stared straight at her.
"We have guests" he muttered, his voice was smooth and almost reminded her of Owan's emotionless speech.
The third elf looked up, brown hair falling into his face and he angrily moved it away before grinning.
"Merrill you're back, Theron and I were just talking about you, poor Theron was worried you wouldn't make it." The elf quipped and the wolf beside him barked in agreement.
Theron glared at the elf who only grinned at successfully getting a response.
"Be quiet Fenarel, and introduce yourself to our lovely new guest." The first elf joked as he stood and made his way to Neria.
"Why hello there, I'm Tamlen and I don't think I've seen someone as beautiful as you around here before, so what's your name?" he was interrupted before Neria could find a reply beyond stammering by a half-playful, half-serious thwack by Merrill.
"Leave her alone Tamlen, she's not going to fall for your fake charm routine."
Tamlen gave a look of mock outrage.
"Fake! I'll have you know that I am the most manly elf in the entire clan." Tamlen boasted.
"Yeah, then how come you couldn't control your bladder until you were 14?" Fenaral quipped before howling with laughter, the wolf beside him joining in.
"Why you-" Tamlen growled and lunged at Feneral, and soon the two were rolling around in the grass, mock wrestling while the wolf watched on.
Merrill sighed and gestured for her to sit.
"That's Tamlen for you, he acts tough but he's really all talk. Fenarel is our resident ranger and joker extraordinaire, and the wolf over there is Aleol. He's the smartest of those three."
Aleol barked in reply and Neria giggled at the silliness of it all.
Merrill turned to Theron who was staring at her blankly, taking a moment every now and then to give Fenarel and Tamlen a disparaging look.
"That over there is Theron, he's Isym's son and one of the quietest people you'll ever meet. But don't worry he's a nice guy no matter how hard he tries to cultivate the badass appearance.
Theron shot Merrill an annoyed look but grunted and went back to eating.
Merrill rolled her eyes and turned to Neria.
"So, up for some soup?" she said cheerily.
And so the night went on, eventually Fenaral and Tamlen stopped their mock fight and sat back down to eat.
They talked for the rest of the night, it was mostly Fenarel and Tamlen talking about anything with Merrill inputting her own comments and Theron occasionally joining in.
And as they talked Neria found herself starting to open up to them, their merriment was infectious and she found herself laughing at Fenarel's jokes, much to his pleasure.
Eventually night came and Merrill set her up a bed next to hers and they drifted off to sleep.
Back at the ruins, Risage stood over the last Templar corpse, his flesh had already started to rot and is eyes were turning red. In one hand he held his bloody sword, and in the other he held a phylactery.
Neria's phylactery.
Slowly he walked forward, muttering curses of revenge and hatred, with the pride demon whispering into his head all the while.
There we go! Second chapter is out, as always rate and review. Sorry for and grammar problems, my beta is gone!