Chapter 46: Pain

Delia walked back to the field where her companions had their campfire and searched for her father. She was upset to have learned how deeply Zevran felt for her and how much those feelings hurt him, and she needed something resembling normal, for a change of pace. Trent was taking care of the horses, giving them some extra attention since they had the extra time. He was checking their shoes when she found him, and when he noticed her he smiled brightly.

"Delia! How have things been going with the infirmary? I didn't have a chance to speak to you before you left this morning."

She walked up to him as he straightened up and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Trent was surprised – he still wasn't used to her knowing he was her father and still wasn't comfortable with his newfound place in her life. He gently put his arms around her as he noticed she was crying.

"What's wrong? Maker… did someone hurt you?"

She looked up at him and wiped her tears away. "No… actually I hurt someone without meaning to. I feel terrible and don't know what to do."

She told Trent about her conversation with Zevran. Trent sat down on a log next to her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"He is a good man, but you can't force yourself to feel what you don't feel. I can understand why he would want to leave. Believe me… it wasn't easy for me to be in the Bann's employ and watch the way he treated your mother. There were many days when I wanted to run away, but I knew she needed me there even if it was from a distance." He looked up to the sky and frowned. "It was more than difficult to be that close to the woman I loved and not be able to be with her. I barely could even speak to her. If he is to stay, he needs to be able to find his own reason to be here. You can't be responsible one way or another."

"I understand, but I do care about him. He's important to me, just as everyone in this camp is important to me. However, Zevran is special to me. I hate being the reason why he is in such pain."

Trent did his best to comfort his daughter, but knew in his heart there wasn't anything he could do. Morrigan prepared lunch, and the group settled around the fire to eat. Zevran, however, didn't show up for the meal.

Once Delia finished eating, she brought Dusty with her to check on the sick elves. She made her rounds with Lanaya and made note of which elves seemed to be getting worse. At least the healing poultices seemed to be slowing the progression of the curse, which pleased both her and the keeper's second.

Delia and Lanaya spent some time preparing more remedies, teaching each other about mixtures they learned in their own experiences and experimenting with mixing some of Delia's foreign herbs with Lanaya's brews to intensify their effectiveness. At one point, Lanaya placed the wrong ingredient into a potion, causing a loud "pop" which startled them both, leaving them both in a fit of giggles. Delia genuinely liked the elf, and it seemed like a strong friendship was beginning to grow.

When she left the aravel in the midafternoon, Delia decided to search out Sarel, the storyteller of the clan. It would be interesting to learn the clan's history, as each clan kept its own history through its stories. Delia had always enjoyed learning about the different clans in Antiva through their stories, and usually the clan's storytellers were outgoing and easy to talk to. She looked forward to hearing his tales and learning about Zathrian.

She found Sarel sitting at the clan's main campfire, telling stories to several hunters and children. He didn't seem pleased to have her join them, but after one of the hunters complained about his rudeness, he acquiesced. He asked Delia if she would like to hear a story, to which she readily agreed.

Sarel began to tell the tale of how the Dalish lost their homeland. The Tevinter Imperium had enslaved the elves, until they were freed by Andraste herself. She gave the Dalish a new home, The Dales, but the humans warred with the elves again because they wouldn't worship the Maker as the humans did. With contempt in his voice, he finished the story by saying this was the reason the Dalish were wanderers with no home of their own.

Even with the uncontrolled bitterness in his voice which she knew was directed at her, Delia was moved by his story.

"The history between our peoples is, indeed, tragic. There have been humans who have stood up for what was right, but there have been too few and they had too little power. All we can do it try to build bridges toward the future and learn from each other. I have been fortunate in my life to have studied for many years in Antiva. There, the elves are treated much better than here in Ferelden. I have had many teachers and friends who have been elves, and your culture and history are an integral part of our world. Would you permit me to share a story I learned from my Antivan elf friends?"

Sarel agreed, so Delia told a story of Shartan, the elf that fought alongside Andraste. Both the prophetess and Shartan were born to slavery, and although he didn't trust her when they first met, he fought alongside her. His feeling was the enemy of his enemy could be his friend, and despite his initial suspicion of the prophetess, Shartan developed a great love and respect for her. He was killed while defending her, staying true to her until the bitter end.

Sarel nodded. "You do seem to have a great understanding of our history, human. I find it curious that you have taken such an interest in my people. It makes me wonder if you have an ulterior motive."

"I understand why you would think that way, Sarel, but I actually am interested in all cultures. While I studied in Antiva, I learned not only about the Dalish, but the Antivans, the Orlesians, the Qunari, the Tevinter, and others. When you compare them, you can find many similarities."

Sarel raised his eyebrow in interest, and the two began a long discussion of cultures and religions. As their conversation became more and more intellectual and less of tales, most of the other elves wandered away. After a time, only one woman remained, sitting at the far edge of the circle.

Once the sun was getting low in the sky, Delia stood. "Unfortunately, I must take my leave, Sarel. I must tend to the sick before nightfall. Perhaps, if you have time, we could continue our discussion tomorrow? You are a most interesting conversationalist." She smiled softly at the elf.

Sarel smiled and bowed slightly to her. "You are as well, emma falon. You are nothing like the other humans I have met in the past. I would be most honored to spend time with you tomorrow. Actually, after you assist Lanaya with the sick, would you join me for dinner? I would certainly enjoy your company."

"Thank you, Sarel, I am flattered. I must decline, however, as my friends are expecting me and I'm certain they will worry. We will speak again tomorrow – I'll look forward to it. Until then, have a good night."

"Rest well, Delia."

She left the fire and walked to Lanaya's aravel. The two worked effortlessly together as they checked their patients and administered the proper remedies. Delia spent extra time speaking to the elves she tended, and even the grumpiest of the people were warming to her. When Lanaya noticed the human yawning over and over, she teasingly shooed her back to her camp for some rest. Delia returned to her group almost reluctantly, worried about what Zevran would do.

She needn't have worried, as the elf was nowhere to be found. Delia ate her dinner with Trent and Dusty, and then turned in for the night. Before she went to sleep she took out the rose Alistair had given to her and kissed it lightly. She missed him terribly and said a prayer to the Maker that he and his group would return safely soon. Once she lay her head down, she fell into a sound sleep quickly.

In the morning she woke with the sun, as was her normal routine. As she started her morning practice routine with Dusty watching, the elven woman who had stayed throughout her conversation with Sarel approached her.

"Andaran atish'an, Delia. I was sent by Sarel to ask if you would like to accompany us to some ancient ruins that exist just outside of camp. He thought you might be interested in seeing them, as there are carvings in ancient languages that you might be able to translate."

"I would be very interested in seeing them, but perhaps it would be better if we were to go later, after I have tended to the sick. Please tell him I will meet him later at the campfire."

The elf looked worried. "No, I'm sorry, that will not do. Sarel has… responsibilities later and will not be available. Please come with me now."

Delia was unsure of what to do. The others weren't awake yet, so she couldn't tell them where she was going, but her curiosity screamed at her to go. Whistling to Dusty, Delia walked to the elf.

"Alright, let's go now. I will have to hurry, however. Lanaya will be expecting me."

The elf nodded and led the way down a narrow path. They walked for a longer distance than Delia expected, but finally she saw a clearing ahead of them. As they entered the clearing, the elf seemed to stumble and rolled to one side. Delia stepped forward to help her, and found her leg was in a trap! As she tried to release her foot, the elf suddenly pulled her bow in front of her and used an arrow to pin the mabari in place.

As Delia continued to struggle, she tried to remain facing the elf as the woman circled her with her bow at the ready.

"You dare come into our clan and try to infiltrate? You shemlens are all alike – you simply want to take whatever you want, and I will not permit you to take Sarel, do you hear me? You shems nearly destroyed him once; it will not happen again!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about! What exactly is it that you think I have done?" Delia was trying to rein in her panic, but she worried about the injured mabari as she struggled for her own freedom.

"Sarel was married to my sister until a shemlen captured her. He tortured and raped her, and our hunters found her broken body tossed off the side of a cliff. It took years for Sarel to recover, and I will not allow you to worm your way into his heart. It isn't right. You deserve nothing, and I will prevent you from destroying him and my clan."

"I assure you, I mean no one in your clan any harm. I simply want to help!"

"Help? There is nothing we need from you, shem." As the woman started to draw her bow, there was a sudden flash of metal and she found herself disarmed – the string of her bow neatly cut by the blade of a throwing knife.

Delia watched helplessly as Zevran quickly attacked the woman, swiftly knocking her unconscious and tying her up. As soon as he was convinced the elf was no longer a threat, he walked toward Delia.

"Tsk, tsk… it seems that trouble follows you everywhere, my dear. You really should try to make sure you have your Zevran at your side before you decide to take a stroll in the woods." He smiled at her luridly before he continued. "Should you enjoy being trapped in this way, I can think of many ways that are far less painful."

He leaned down and released her foot from the trap. As he stood back up, she threw her arms around his neck. "Zev… thank you again. I don't know what I would do without you."

She suddenly realized the mabari was injured and tried to walk to him, but her ankle was twisted in the trap and she couldn't walk on it. Zevran quickly carried her to the dog's side and helped her administer a healing poultice. Lucky for Dusty, his wound was actually minor, even though the shot had been very effective in trapping him.

Zevran looked at the mabari seriously. "My friend, I ask you to remain here and guard our prisoner until I can return with others. I must carry Delia back to camp to have Morrigan attend to her ankle. Are you alright with that?"

Dusty answered him with a bark, and then he pointed his front leg at the elven prisoner and growled. "Yes, my friend. Keep her alive and well, and I will return shortly." Zevran turned his attention to Delia. "As for you, my dear, you must accept my carrying you. It would not be good for that beautiful ankle of yours to allow it to swell any larger."

She tried to protest, but Zevran simply swept her up and swiftly carried her back to the camp. Trent saw them as soon as they emerged from the tree line, and he ran to help. Zevran gently set Delia down outside of Morrigan's tent, and the mage immediately shooed the men away and tended to Delia's ankle.

Trent led Zevran to the fire and handed him some breakfast after asking Sten to get help from Lanaya. After Zevran explained what had happened, Trent looked warmly at the assassin and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, my son. I don't know what we would do without you. You have a way of just… knowing when trouble is brewing."

Zevran looked at the warrior with a look of bewilderment. "Pardon me, but I do not believe I have ever been addressed as… my son before. Why would you say such a thing to me?"

Trent smiled at Zevran warmly. "You are very much like a member of my family, Zevran." He added with a chuckle, "And I am old enough to be your father. It just seemed… natural to call you that. I hope you don't mind."

Zevran smiled. "No, I don't mind at all. It is just… unfamiliar."

Trent nodded. "Delia has spoken to me quite a bit about you. She feels closer to you than most everyone here and truly feels as if you are her brother. I guess I've come to believe that she is right – you should be her brother, which would make me your father, if you don't mind the self-appointed title."

"I have never been a part of a family before. I am… honored."

As he finished his sentence, several elven hunters approached and explained Lanaya had sent them to retrieve the imprisoned elf. Zevran excused himself to lead them to the elf, and once they returned to the camp Delia had been healed and had eaten breakfast. She walked with Zevran and the hunters with the prisoner and Dusty to Anaya's aravel to discuss the morning's events.

Lanaya was waiting for them, a look of confusion on her face. "I looked everywhere for Zathrian, but he is nowhere in the camp. I am not sure what to do with Garalda, for she has broken our laws and must be brought to justice."

Zevran cleared his throat. "Delia, my dear, it seems from Garalda's story that she was severely injured by humans in her life. Do you not feel it might be best for all involved to have pity on her?"

The elven woman hissed at him. "I do not need your pity, flat ear. And I definitely do not need the pity of a shem. If you weren't a traitor to your own people, I would have had my revenge."

Delia looked at her sadly. "And what kind of revenge would you have had? I never did any harm to your people, and so by killing me you would hurt not only my own people, but the people here who I have tried to help."

Lanaya looked angrily at Garalda. "This woman not only has tried to help us, but has saved the lives of many with the potions and poultices she has taught to me. She helped to calm the halla that Elora had such fears about, and from what Saren tells me she had enlightened him to stories of our people from other lands. Delia has been a friend to us, and you shame us with your actions. You will be locked into Zathrian's aravel until he returns and can dole out your punishment."

The hunters took her away, and Lanaya looked sadly at her new friend. "I am truly sorry, emma falon. This should never have happened."

Delia put her hand on Lanaya's shoulder. "It is not your fault. Garalda's actions are her own. I am saddened that her heart is so hardened, but I understand her pain. Come, let us get to work. I would rather focus on something positive than continue to relive this incident."

Both women seemed relieved to get back to work and fell back into their easy routine. Zevran watched as the two worked side by side, and it wasn't long before they put him to work as well. Lanaya seemed to watch him intently, and every once in a while he caught her eye and would earn a shy smile. Perhaps his charms were still intact after all!

Elvish translations:

emma falon: my friend

Andaran atish'an: a formal greeting