Tamlen wandered aimlessly, his mind neither knowing nor caring where his legs took him.
He passed elf after elf, staring at them as though he was seeing them for the first time. Because, in a way, he was.
The elf patching his clothes, the elf stoking the fire, the elf polishing her armor... they all appeared to be living in a different world than him. A world where Aeryn's parents had simply ventured off to the shemlen town and gotten a bit caught up. A world where they would soon return to her, happy and whole.
But that world did not exist. It was a hopeless fantasy, a dream of a da'len. It was even more than that: it was a lie, a lie that the clan had allowed him to cling to for so long.
So how could these elves go about their daily life, knowing the far more terrible truth? How could they look at Aeryn every day and keep the secret locked away from her?
A shout of familiar laughter caused Tamlen to perk up, freeing him from his thoughts. He spotted Feredir across the camp, waving his hand in invitation. Tamlen felt a quickening in his blood, one he recognized, but could not place. He crossed the camp, his shoulders set back in indignation. The feeling continued to course through his veins, spreading an inexplicable ire throughout his entire body...
And then, about halfway across the clearing, Tamlen identified it. It was a sensation he often felt out in the forest, on the hunt.
But the similarities between this situation and a Dalish hunt stopped there. Currently, Tamlen was fueled by a burning sense of hatred, a self-righteous desire to smash through everything in his way and fight. There was no patience, no quiet preparation, no aligning of a bow string; instead, it was replaced by a frenzy of emotions and a screaming that filled the elf's ears. Feredir deserved no respect, so Tamlen would grant him none.
"How'd it go with the Keeper?" he called, as soon as Tamlen reached earshot. "I see Aeryn's not with you, did you finally ditch that-"
There was a resounding crack as Tamlen's fist struck Feredir's nose. He gasped loudly, stumbling backwards. His watering eyes stared at his attacker in surprise.
"That was from Aeryn," Tamlen said coldly, shaking off the pain that shot through his knuckles.
Before Feredir could react any further, Tamlen raised his fist again. This time, the elf let out a small whimper as Tamlen struck his face once more.
"And that..." he said, smirking, "was from me."
Feredir's eyes narrowed into slits of cold hatred. He brought an arm to his face, attempting to staunch the heavy flow of blood streaming from what seemed to be a broken nose. Tamlen stared back, grinning. It was a completely uncharacteristic grin, filled with a savage joy at the pain he had caused.
Feredir was adjusting his body, preparing to strike back, when a sharp voice rang from the distance.
"What in the Creators' name is going on here?" called Ilen, the clan's master crafter, who was quickly approaching the scene.
"Elgar'nan, boy! What has happened to your face?"
Feredir did not respond; his harsh gaze had not drifted from Tamlen. Or maybe he simply couldn't speak; the blood was now flowing into his mouth.
"I struck him," Tamlen stated in a cold voice that was so unlike his own.
"You... you what?"
"I struck him," he repeated calmly.
Ilen stared at the two young elves in disbelief. "Feredir, go see Marethari before you lose anymore blood," he said, although he kept his eyes fixed on Tamlen. Feredir held his ground, unwilling to leave the situation so quickly, but the elder practically pushed him towards the Keeper's aravel. The bloodied elf walked away grudgingly, turning around to glare at Tamlen one last time. When he was out of earshot, Ilen rounded on Tamlen.
"What on earth were you thinking?"
Tamlen stood still, his mindless anger ebbing away as Feredir stumbled father and father away. The fire coursing through his body was extinguished, and the smoke obstructing his mind was cleared. This rational mind was far from welcome, however; it brought back the thoughts he had hoped to eliminate with this whole ordeal in the first place. The fighting did not make him feel better, as he had foolishly hoped. His heart still beat furiously, and, on top of everything else, a heavy lump of shame now rested in the pit of his stomach.
"I..."
"Striking your own clan mate? How could you even dare to do such a thing?"
"He was..." But Tamlen could not bring himself to accuse Feredir of anything. Because accusing him meant talking about the truth he had so disgustingly revealed. And the truth meant...
"I don't know," he mumbled.
The elder elf shook his head.
"You missed the ceremony, and then this? You and Aeryn have been stirring up trouble ever since you could walk. I always thought she was the instigator, but given the current circumstances..."
Aeryn's name sent a blow to Tamlen's already aching heart. He realized how much he didn't want to talk about the situation, especially not to him.
Ilen was there. He witnessed the death of Aeryn's parents. And he never said anything.
"Ma abelas," Tamlen mumbled, wishing to stop the conversation as quickly as he could.
Ilen stared at Tamlen for what seemed like days, but eventually sighed. There was something in the boy's character that tugged at the souls of those who met him, an inexplicable force that got the better of most of the elders in the clan.
He observed Tamlen's slouched shoulders, which so contradicted the spark of life in his eyes. But that usual spark was gone... He seemed insecure, passive, even incomplete without Aeryn by his side. Tamlen was a proud warrior; all of the elders could see that. However, it seemed that his true self only emerged when he was with his best friend. And, apparently, so did his rebellious self.
"Could you have picked a worse day for all of this though?" Ilen sighed, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "Though I suppose it doesn't really matter, now that the ceremony has been delayed anyway." Now he was truly laughing. "How you two manage to get away with these things, I never know."
Tamlen did not return the smile. In fact, the statement made him feel even worse.
Ilen gave Tamlen one final look, his hand reaching out. It was scarred and calloused from his years of craftsmanship, and wrinkled from age, but surprisingly strong as it grasped Tamlen's shoulder. "I only hope you're ready for tomorrow."
That was it. Before Tamlen could even respond, Ilen had turned to walk away.
It seemed he had managed to evade punishment once again.
No, he thought. Yell at me. Scream at me. Give me a stupid chore as punishment. Tell me what a disappointment I am. Give me a reason to want to hit you. Let me actually hit you. And then hit me back. Just for Creators' fucking sake, give me something that will let me forget about the hell that is racing through my mind right now.
But there was no such escape. Tamlen's emotions felt as though they were consolidated in the pit of his stomach, and somehow shooting out of his body at every angle at the same time. The outburst at Feredir was a good, hot outlet of anger, but it was gone now. And he wasn't even in trouble. And Ilen was joking with him.
And he should have talked about what was bothering him. But he didn't. He kept avoiding the truth. The lies, the secrets, the truth… they kept getting mixed up in his head. What could he trust? Who could he trust?
Aeryn, Tamlen thought immediately. He needed to see Aeryn. After all, she was the victim of all of this.
He didn't chase after her right away because he knew she needed time alone. At least some time. But now it was getting dark, and she still had not returned to camp...
But the more Tamlen thought about it, the more he realized that he did not want to see Aeryn. How was he going to talk to her about all of this? He couldn't even speak to an outside party without being overcome by grief and confusion. And here he was, thinking about his own pain when she was the one suffering the most. He was supposed to be there for her, not the other way around.
And then it hit him. If he, her best friend, couldn't even find the strength to talk about her parents, how could the others? What blame could be placed, except onto the humans that ripped her family apart?
So Tamlen swallowed his grief and set out to find his friend. If he owed her one thing, it was the truth. And as strong of a hand to hold as he could offer while they discussed it.
But he didn't get very far. The young elf was stopped before he even got out of camp by a sharp cry. Turning, Tamlen saw his mother, running frantically toward him. She looked at her son disapprovingly, but looked at him nonetheless.
And her expression turned into concern the moment she saw Tamlen's bruised knuckles. She mumbled something about "fractured," and reached into her pack to pull out bandages.
"Mamae, listen, I have to go…" he said, trying to fight the emotion building inside of him.
She replied with words that he could not hear, but that he trusted without a doubt. She took his hand into her own and wrapped it in a tight bind. Then she wrapped her arms around his body in a similar way.
And Tamlen could no longer hold in. Tears that he could not explain were falling down his face, but his mother did not need explanation. Without missing a beat, she simply held him even tighter. She was oblivious to the source of his pain, but still wished to make it better, needed to make it better. His willpower completely deteriorated, and yet she held on, guarding him from the world and sheltering him in a warm embrace. Providing comfort in a way that only a mother could.
And so Tamlen succumbed to the flood of emotions inside of him, crying into his mother's arms. Completely unable to help Aeryn, who would never be able to do the same.
Dalish Language Translation:
da'len:child
aravel: vehicle the Dalish use for transportation
ma abelas: my apologies
mamae: mother