"It's the elf! Get them!"

Rynar leapt into action. He flipped up a section of his leathers to reveal a row of small daggers, lining his chest. Faster than any of the slavers could see he whipped out half of them and sent them flying around himself, forming a barrier. One of the slavers took a step forward and blossomed a hilt from his neck.

"Ma halam, shems." Rynar muttered. The rest of them charged and the elf disappeared into the trees, raining fire on them from above. Karasaad unslung his war hammer and roared, joining the fracas. Caylus readied his sword but held back, defending Arella, whose ankle was not entirely healed. It didn't matter as Karasaad and Rynar took care of the five men easily enough. As Rynar was retrieving his daggers he explained, "My clan is not far from here, we were discovered a few weeks ago by these slavers. We- they've, been eluding them so far but they have already taken a few of our- their, hunters."

"Why do you keep correcting yourself?" Arella asked gently.

"Because I left. The clan just wanted to run, to escape. Leaving behind those the slavers had already caught. I couldn't do that. I am no longer part of the clan, I am an exile." He proceeded to wipe off his blades, "I know it is a lot to ask but please, help me fight these men. These five were only scouts. I know where their camp is but until now I did not have the numbers to challenge them directly."

"No, we are going back to the Circle-" Caylus started.

"Of course, we'll help!" Arella agreed, shooting the Templar a glare.

"No. My duty is to get this mage back to the tower. Karasaad's mess picked us up on the way but I will not go out of it to help some elf and his troupe of children playing make believe that they're Dalish."

"'Playing make believe'?" Rynar questioned, his anger mounting.

"Would someone explain to me what a 'Dalish' is?" Arella asked, exasperated.

"I told you already, they are a myth!" Caylus said.

Rynar burst into mirthful laughter, "Ah, now I see. Do you think me a myth? I am standing right before you, shem, and I am Dalish. The Dalish are the elves that refuse to bow to shemlen law. We are the noble keepers of elven lore. 'We are the last of the elvhen and never shall we submit.'" He turned away from Caylus, who was dumbfounded, and faced Arella, "Ignore this len'alas lath'din," here, Arella giggled, knowing that the term meant 'dirty child no one loves', "I need your help."

"Caylus, according to you, the Circle tower is less than a day away. Surely we can spend a little time rescuing people from slavers!" Arella persuaded.

"Yeah, plus its common knowledge that slavers associate with magisters so you'd really be doing the Order a favor!" Anders chimed in.

"You just want to stall going back to the tower." Caylus deadpanned.

"How'd you know!?" the boy feigned surprise and he and Arella burst into laughter.

"Yes, yes, have your fun. If you want to help this elf then fine. But we will not delay after this again." the Templar threatened. Arella smiled and skipped forward on her newly healed ankle and kissed him on the cheek. He froze.

"Heeeey, what about meee?" Anders complained.

Arella laughed and leaned down to give him a kiss too, "And one for my cheeky little mage."

Rynar and Karasaad watch the three of them silently, Rynar scowling at the 'help' he had won over. He crossed his arms and waited impatiently, "Care to waste more time, or should we stop for tea as well?"

"Lead the way, Rynar." Arella replied.

The elf disappeared into the trees only to reappear farther down the path, hanging upside down. He beckoned them forward. The found the slavers camp easily and hung back at the edge, out of sight. It was a fairly small camp with no more than fifteen men total mulling about. There were three cages at the far end with a few elves trapped inside. Rynar muttered a curse in elvish under his breath.

"Rynar, you stick to the trees and attack with your knives. Anders, hang back and cast your spells from a distance, if someone gets hurt get in and get out again fast, watch your strength. Caylus and Karasaad, you're with me. We'll start in that section, those four sitting by the fire, and sweep across to the cages." Everyone except Caylus nodded at Arella's orders. The knight just stared, the unasked question in his eyes, "My mother was a war leader. I spent much of my time at her side as she led her and my father's armies." Arella answered, shrugging, "Let's go!"

The group charged in, Karasaad letting out a war cry that made the crude tents shake. The slavers reacted far too late and were quickly overwhelmed. Arella bashed off the lock on the cages and the elves scattered. A man came running out of his tent, gripping a gnarled wooden staff. He wore a cowl that covered part of his face.

"Mage!" Caylus shouted, warning the others. The man raised his staff and vanished. The three fighters glanced around for a moment, anxious. The mage reappeared beside one of the released elven women and grabbed her roughly.

"Cease! Or I kill the elf!" he yelled. Arella held up a hand to signal a halt. Rynar dropped beside her, daggers poised.

"Seline!" he gasped, recognizing the woman.

"Back off, mage. Your men are dead." Caylus said.

"Well, that's quite a predicament for then isn't it?" the mage laughed. Wisps of magick began to form at his fingertips, a deep, blood red. It spread out in waves to cover the ground around them. Seeping into the dead slavers. Arella and the others watched, horrified, as they began to rise from the ground. The mage turned to Seline and whispered, "Thank you, my dear."

Seline stared down at the dagger protruding from her chest and let out a choked gasp, falling to her knees, "NO!" Rynar screamed. He dashed forward flinging his knives uselessly at the man. Noticing the barrier, Caylus focused his mind and sent out a wave of spirit energy. Through his Templar training, it would nullify all hostile magick in the area. The mage's barrier shuddered and blinked out of existence. Rynar had reached him by that time and roaring in anguish, he tackled the man to the ground. Breathing raggedly, the elf viciously ran his blade through the mage's neck. The corpses stumbled a few more steps then fell, the magick sustaining them gone. Arella's companions sheathed their weapons and Anders rushed in to make sure they were all alright.

Rynar dropped the dagger that was clutched in his other hand and rushed to the fallen elf. He cradled her head in his arms shook her gently, "Mamae! Nae, nae, mamae, suledin elvarel ar'in." he choked.

The woman looked up at him and smiled, whispering, "Emma melana sahlin, da'mi. Sulahn'ar nuvinen."

Rynar fought back tears and began rocking back and forth. Arella and the others watched sadly as he began to sing.

Hahren na melana sahlin
emma ir abelas
souver'inan isala hamin
vhenan him dor'felas
in uthenera na revas

vir sulahn'nehn
vir dirthera
vir samahl la numin
vir lath sa'vunin

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, gently. Wiping his face, he called out to one of the other released elves that hadn't run. The elf nodded and touched his fingers to his lips, disappearing into the trees. Rynar turned back to the others slowly, "The clan will come for her. Thank you, for helping me. I will never forget you."

"What will you do now?" Arella asked.

"Oh, I'll probably vanish into the woodlands. Live on my own. I don't know."

"Why don't you come with us? The more the merrier!"

Caylus smacked his forehead with his palm, "Arella!" he groaned.

"Why not? Give me one good reason why not to have him."

"He's an el-" The Templar began but was silenced by the girl's fierce glare, "Okay fine!"

"You would accept an elf? An exile?" Rynar asked.

"Welcome to our clan of misfits!" Arella grinned.

Translations(loosely):

Ma halam: You're finished.
Len'alas lath'din: Dirty child no one loves.
Mamae! Nae, nae, mamae, suledin elvarel ar'in: Mother! No, no, Mother, stay with me.
Emma melana sahlin, da'mi. Sulahn'ar nuvinen: My time has come, little blade. I wish you to sing for me.
And then the song is:
elder your time is come
now I am filled with sorrow
weary eyes need resting
heart has become grey and slow
in waking sleep is freedom

we sing, rejoice
we tell the tales
we laugh and cry
we love one more day.