Exams are over, thank goodness, and I finally have some time to devote to writing, aside from packing up my stuff and getting ready for some summer work. Part of this chapter was written quite a while ago, but I didn't really know where I wanted to take it at first. Hopefully, the next chapter will come sooner, but I can hardly promise anything.
Also, it was my birthday this weekend, so I really had other things on my mind.
Leliana is actually one of my least favorite party members. I don't really know why; I guess I just can't relate to her as much as I can to the others – but that means that all of the characters are awesome on different levels, because she's still a good character and interesting in her own way. It's just difficult to out-awesome characters like Shale or Sten.
Hope this makes up for the long wait – also, check out Samsara, my latest DA fanfic, which deals with Anders' life in and escapes from the Tower and his evolving relationship with Surana. Possibly Nimue, maybe another character; I haven't decided yet.
o.O.o
Regrouping Ever After
o.O.o
The odd thing about staying at the Dalish camp was that one felt simultaneously more and less welcome as time passed. Despite her best efforts, Leliana felt it just the same; the humans of their group were at best tolerated here, and even that was a stretch. Were the atmosphere a little different, the bard might have tried to breach the ice with song, but this ice was much too thick for simple music to chip.
That is, she didn't really think that playing most of the songs she knew – human songs – would go over well with the Dalish. And from some of the throwaway snippets of information a few conversations had given her, she didn't think playing the few elven songs she knew would go over much better.
Curiously, the elves seemed to react best to Morrigan and Shale, out of all the people invading their camp. The swamp witch wore clothing that was much more tattered than the ancient but functional armor adorning most of the elves and made absolutely no effort to speak to anyone, let alone stop glaring at those who dared venture too close.
Something the elves could relate to, apparently.
It was pretty much the same with Shale, except the elves either knew a bit about how golems were made or were simply grateful for someone who squashed any bird that dared venture close to their food supplies. Perhaps a combination of both.
Understandable though the attitude was, Leliana was really not comforted by the situation. The Blight was the only thing even vaguely bringing all these people together. Were it not for the Blight, even all of them would be still trapped in their own pasts – her including. It wasn't a particularly kind thought, to be thankful for the Blight, but the bard simply trusted in the Maker that all this was part of a divine plan.
And, hopefully, the plan would involve just rewards for the heroes of the tale. Besides, if she herself could help with this part of the proceedings, she had no qualm about doing her part.
"'Tis foolishness that you plan and childish at that." a stern voice disapproved from nearby.
It wasn't often that Morrigan attempted to converse with someone other than Nimue, at least not without a deriding purpose. This seemed to be one of those rare occasions; never let it be said that the swamp witch was a shrinking violet unable to voice her opinion (read: disapproval) clearly.
If the tone of voice hadn't tipped her off, then the folded arms and slanted eyebrows facing her certainly told Leliana everything she needed to know.
"I'm sorry?" Politeness usually either irritated or stunned Morrigan (the latter less so nowadays), but in defense of the question, she hadn't given quite enough information about what was so foolish according to her personal judgment.
"Do you need your own mischief spelled out by another?" In Leliana's defense, the maleficar disapproved of practically everything her companions did for some reason or another, no matter what their motivation. "You waste time trying to chain Nimue to that nobleman."
Leliana stopped trying to tune her lute, a little surprised by this direct accusation. Not by Morrigan's bluntness, but by her apparent interest in a topic the witch was more than likely to consider frivolous.
"I wasn't trying to get them together – they did that on their own, no?" She hadn't actually done anything, of course, meaning that she was getting a little sloppy. Not that Morrigan was ignorant in any way, but if a non-involved person could notice her intentions so quickly. "And that kiss… they seem to like each other quite well. I am simply helping, in my own way."
The witch's upper lip curled; most people would glance upon stubborn stains on their favorite shirt that way, but then again, they dealt with bloodstains all the time. "Waste your own energy and time if you must, but know that 'tis a pointless endeavor."
"Why do you think so?"
"Neither you nor that man have any idea of magic, nor what being a mage entails." This was the true surprise; that Morrigan actually stayed to endeavor to explain her thoughts. "What a mage might want or need. And that is just the start of your problems."
"Not to the degree you or Nimue might, but I am certain love and patience can overcome that obstacle." Of the latter, Nimue had an abundance, considering she had managed to hold them together without threats or killings to make a point so far. The former could be given easily. "I believe both can blossom on this fertile ground. It is something to take joy from."
To resist a snort would have taken superhuman effort; the witch didn't even bother trying. "A Circle mage is like a caged beast. 'Tis why they bring them young – so they can be tamed and accept their shackles by force of habit."
"She isn't like that."
But Leliana couldn't say that with as much confidence as she would have liked. She remembered the quickness with which the templars had called for annulment. Especially etched in her memory was the first moment when she had seen Nimue truly angry; she had yelled at the Knight Commander without any restraint, with what was apparently years of pent up frustration from not being able to do this before spilling out.
Having seen the faces of the frightened mage children, Leliana's opinion of some of the chantry's regulations had dropped considerably.
A mage that had escaped their mousetrap was like a fleeing rat – not easily trusting, certainly not willing to be drawn into danger again. At least, this seemed to be Morrigan's take on the situation, even if Nimue's escape hadn't been willing.
"No one in this travelling circus is anything like they pretend to be. This includes you and her." And Morrigan herself, of course. As elated as the swamp witch seemed to be able to find what she considered intelligent conversation, she had little to no obvious reasons for remaining with them still. Nimue never truly asked, but the others certainly wondered. "Have a care where your nets spread, lest they tangle."
But this development was pleasing, in a way that the witch herself perhaps didn't anticipate.
"You are concerned for her." Leliana smiled, "You are her friend, just as I hope to be."
"I do not think we speak the same language when such things are mentioned." the maleficar snapped, finally giving up on the conversation she herself had instigated. "'Tis no matter. A single warning is all anyone is likely to get before a cornered animal bites."
She would know about that, wouldn't she, Leliana thought, but said nothing of the kind. Angering Morrigan was never advisable, even under the best of circumstances, it would be downright foolish after seeing the witch storm off.
However, she had been right about one thing; non-mages would always be lying a bit if they claimed to understand magic or its practitioners. The bard didn't want that; she wanted to understand the person, not the power behind them. And, in a way, this was one means of getting closer beneath the surface; kindness could grant more paths than a closed fist.
Though there was constant movement in the camp, if there was anything that could easily draw Leliana's attention, it was the sight of an elf actually willingly approaching someone other than one of their own elves.
She hadn't yet seen that particular elf around, especially with his long red hair and well-made armor that made him immediately noticeable. Moreover, every single elf around seemed both surprised and highly pleased to see him; he might not be part of the tribe on a permanent basis, then, Leliana speculated, but she couldn't really say. What was most eye-catching, however, was that he immediately pinpointed Alistair, effortlessly approached him and – much to the surprise of everyone around, their princeling including – struck up a quick conversation with him.
However, the young templar went from near-astonishment to rapt attention within the span of a few words, apparently, which could only have meant that this was a messenger from their group in the woods. Morrigan, not too far away, had already apparently picked up on that message, her feline eyes darting from the elf to Alistair, as if uncertain which one to dislike more. Or, possibly, she was simply offended by the fact that Nimue seemed to have chosen the templar as her possible substitute in their moment of need. Perhaps it was Wynne who had suggested this – the bard honestly doubted Zevran would have done so other than as a jest – but she supposed it was an understandable choice.
This was nevertheless going to be a fun ride.
Feeling a little kind, a little nosy and very impatient to actually do something, the bard easily snuck closer to the conversation. If it were just up to Alistair, it would probably take long for a decision to be reached. Anything she could do to speed it up could only be an improvement on the long run.
"…ey would like your support, if at all possible."
Once more, observation alone had given the bard a good idea of what was happening. It was indeed Nimue calling for backup, which meant they should get to where they needed quickly. Alistair seemed just a little apprehensive and hesitant about what to do. In the spirit of getting somewhere, Leliana decided to make her presence a little more visible, in case their surrogate leader needed some support.
"Where exactly are they?"
"Tevinter ruins, not that far away from here." The elf – possibly Aneirin, the bard realized when she remembered that particular trouble Wynne had laid on them – very easily shifted his attention to her, emitting an aura of sadness that his mannerisms didn't really reflect. It was a refreshing change from having to coax answers out of reluctant Dalish. "I can lead you through the forest, but you will have to hurry. Your friends have been inside for a few hours now and if the ruins are the lair of those creatures…"
"Right!" Alistair never really had the air of natural leadership about him, but the summons from Nimue were obviously quite enough for him to make a decent effort at appearing commanding, even if it was obviously an act. He could grow to be a good leader and king, though. "We should tell- ah, Lady Lanaya, is it?"
"You best not use human titles here." Hopefully, it was indeed Aneirin, and Wynne had received the absolution she so craved from possibly the single wrong she might have committed during her long years as a teacher. If it was him, the chances of that were considerable. "The others might think ill of you."
"Oh. Uh, right." Obviously, the idea that Nimue might be in danger and requiring help was weighing heavily on Alistair's ability to focus on formalities; likely, he would have just eagerly rushed off to her aid, were it up to him alone. He didn't look too far from that course of action, in any case. "We will try to go see if we can help Nimue and the others; they appear to have found the main lair of the werewolves. Um, where is the Keeper?" he asked, apparently uncomfortable with just dashing off without telling someone, at least.
Leliana, already a bit quicker on the uptake, easily went to the First – technically the current leader of the settlement – and repeated the very same question to her.
"Zathrian left camp a little while ago, I believe. I don't know where he went; he often makes such trips without mentioning what his destination may be. Perhaps he, too, went to assist your companions." Lanaya added, shrugging speculatively. "If so, haste would not be ill-advised."
"I was thinking the same thing. Everyone!" When he got the looks his exclamation should have received, Alistair actually withdrew a little, apparently stunned by the fact that people actually responded to his call. But, true to his own blood, he didn't recoil entirely and didn't need further prodding to stand up and speak. "Ah, we got news about Nimue's group and they might need backup. So… we should head to where they are. To see if we can help."
The future king of Ferelden had stage fright of a sort. He still had a long way to go, Leliana thought with a private smile. Of course, it took a scowl and scoff to rile him up again and bring a defiant stare into his eyes. For a moment, when facing down the predictable opponent – Morrigan – the templar was gone and the long-suppressed human prince appeared.
"Waste hours trekking through the uncharted forest to search for a vaguely-specified location where all might be over by the time we arrive." How the witch could pull off such an ugly sneer and yet remain the pinnacle of icy beauty, Leliana would never know, but she'd certainly be open to taking tips from her. Not on her fashion sense, though. That was still as strategically tattered as ever. "Truly, this is a plan of strategic brilliance."
"Waiting here will not help either and we have a guide. Besides, I'd have expected you to be overjoyed with the prospect of a possible swamp along the way."
"If we can get there quickly, we might be able to catch up with them." Leliana added, eager to get away from the camp for a little while and possibly talk to Aneirin some more. "Tevinter ruins are usually vast and likely filled with traps; it might take Nimue and the others a while to navigate their way through, but our path should be easier once they find it. That is, if you know a fast path there."
"We should divide our forces. Leave the slower and the useless behind." Sten was already on his feet, armored and prepared to leave. Actually, it was doubtful he had even gotten to sitting down, hoping to obviously get out of there as soon as possible. Or perhaps he simply thought the elves were too useless and the group would just move on soon enough.
They themselves were annoying, but competent. The elves were both annoying and helpless to defend themselves from the werewolf attacks, thus seemingly useless as anything else than cannon fodder. The bard would bet that the qunari would be much more benevolent if there was a kitten around or if the elves had a master of the mystical art of cookie making in their midst. They would still be annoying and useless in battle, but not useless overall.
Surprisingly, this statement managed to wake Oghren from his stupor (after realizing that the Dalish had very little alcohol around, the dwarf had drunk most of his own collection to drown this sad fact out). It was kind of like calling a small child chicken, considering the great feat of acrobatics the intoxicated warrior, which he certainly wouldn't have managed in a state of sobriety.
"'ey! The golem ain't useless!" Not that there was any danger of that happening, mind you. "We've got stuff to carry an' you nug-humpers sure don't look like volunteering for the job!"
That Shale didn't crush the dwarf where he stood was very surprising to most of them – the only other creature who knew why this didn't happen was Rabbit, who was far away now. And Oghren, possibly, if he could gather his own thoughts.
But Sten, having been given reason to leave the camp, wasn't about to let their regular argument routine get into the way of it. Considering that the qunari could draw that gigantic sword most menacingly without trying too much, no one was about to protest. That, and Shale had a soft spot for the dark-skinned giant, if Leliana remembered correctly.
"It is likely that a force of the beasts will return to destroy the elves if we tarry." Not that Sten seemed overly concerned with that – he might as well have been commenting on the weather. "I don't trust them not to stab themselves with their own knives, but the Warden needs an army."
"I understand its point." Plus, there were more birds coming; some of the younger elves were apparently fond of feeding the smaller ones, which obviously meant they deserved any fate they would have. "I am not much for stealthy assaults. And the amount of bird nests these trees must contain!" If golems could shudder, Shale certainly made a good effort at doing so. "Disgusting. I will stay and watch the squishies… though I cannot vouch for the dwarf."
Oghren, already losing to his liquor-induced stupor once again, simply muttered something incomprehensible from his spot on the ground. Somehow, the others doubted they were missing out on spiritual enlightenment, though what elves were around didn't look too happy with the prospect of keeping the dwarf around even in a state of unconsciousness.
"Well, uh, thank you." Alistair added weakly, giving up on his current attempt to reassert any kind of authority. Being an announcer rather than being a leader was quite fine with him. Of course, Nimue didn't really need to know that, considering that she apparently had faith in him becoming a leader. "Well done, Sten. So the rest of us will go with Aenerin and find Nimue-"
"Yes, do try to act as if you have the ability to lead us, Alistair."
"I prefer to follow, but I've done this before just fine."
"I have the utmost confidence in your wealth of experience in commanding dolls."
"Hey! They're not dolls, they're statuettes!"
Leliana thought she might have to mediate again – she was the logical choice in such moments when Nimue wasn't around, having once been somewhat like Morrigan and now gravitating more towards Alistair's worldview, even if she remained rather in-between. But she needn't have bothered in this case; apparently, being the object of wonder for several of the elven children was more annoying than most would think, as Sten wasted no time giving them both a practically motionless look that was both a sharp, silencing glare and an eye-roll.
"Parsheera. If you don't hurry, you will stay here with the elves."
That was truly a feat to admire and study by anyone who had ever tried to look intimidating and failed spectacularly. Leliana could sympathize.
"Come on, Alistair." She didn't mean to be unkind, but there would be much more of these pointless arguments if they didn't hurry. Thus the bard let one further stab go, just this once. "We can't wait for you to think of a sufficiently witty retort!"
Were he a worse man, the templar might have cursed out loud; with his disposition, he stuck to muttering a few well-chosen grumbles, as if all this could only ever happen to him. Which was true, in a fashion, considering that not even his revealed heritage was enough to intimidate or even awe anyone any longer. He was still Alistair, a nobody in his own eyes, and perfectly content to remain the same way for an unspecified amount of time.
However, there would be retribution later for the wretched doll remark. He might allow himself to be insulted, but when it came to his statuettes, every word was sacred.
Shale watched the squishies scamper off without too many regrets. Between the enchantress and the qunari, they would be all right. They had to be, with the swamp witch's fingers obviously just twitching to set something on fire and the qunari obviously feeling quite out of place among the elves.
Not that Shale could blame it, really; between the drunken dwarf and the barely-armored elves (hadn't their armor smiths ever heard about protecting the squishiest parts of their bodies instead of showing them off?), the golem was forced to wonder which of the two would be more useless in battle.
It was a tough call, actually. In the end, she had to go with the birds. Their persistence was winning out, much to the golem's chagrin.
In any case, the bald elf's apprentice didn't seem too keen on organizing any potential resistance against another wave of werewolf attacks, which struck Shale as not too sensible. Certainly, the enchantress and the others could dispose of the core of the werewolf pack, but the beasts knew the forest well, were fast and strong and could return at any moment. Yet no preparations were made, aside from trying to stop those already-sick from getting progressively worse.
Honestly, one of the elves was apparently still fretting about its squishy mate not accepting it. While that was disgusting at the best of times, it was downright illogical in this case. The enchantress had to be some special breed of elf, because these Dalish were completely useless when it came to reality.
"It seems suspicious to me that its protector would leave in the time of crisis." Shale remarked conversationally after Lanaya managed to take her teacher's place for the time being.
"Zathrian is wiser than any of us." If the apprentice was nervous about talking with a golem, it was hiding it relatively well. It seemed relatively reasonable, at least for a creature of flesh. "He has lived for centuries, seen almost every situation a person could experience. I'm certain he wouldn't do anything to hinder your companions in any way."
Indeed; instead, he chose to bravely abandon them in their hour of need.
"But it has not attempted to help either, not even by watching its own people." Shale pointed out. Truth to be told, she was rather surprised that she hadn't seen the bald elf vanish. "It took off into the forest after seeing the enchantress enter. Isn't it suspicious at all?"
Lanaya swallowed and pondered this for a moment, but then reaffirmed her own faith. "Yes. Yes, it is. But I trust the Keeper. He understands our needs and the nature of our situation better than anyone. He has never let us astray; he will not do so now."
As he was not around to lead them at all, Shale had no doubt about that. If all elves – or male ones, at least – were like this, though, then perhaps she understood why the enchantress was relatively resistant to the painted elf's peculiar attempts at courtship. It almost made sense to the golem for a moment, but then it all came crashing down once again. Certainly, making a golem involved agony beyond imagination, but it had to be better than this fleshy means of reproduction. At least it was quick and difficult to remember; whereas here, every excruciating second ticked on forever.
Suddenly, not being present for the courtship ritual itself seemed far more courteous of the hound noble than anything these insane humans and elves would do.
Out of boredom, frustration and the need to direct her distaste, Shale squished a nearby sparrow, earning several confused glances from the elves that vanished as quickly as they came once they saw the remains of the bird. If the possibility of losing her bet with the hound and the drunken dwarf existed, she might as well give herself the reward she had wanted in advance to save herself the trouble of feinting any conflicted satisfaction later on.
