First Allies
Zathrian had disappeared more than a week before. It had become more than obvious that the Keeper was hiding something, and his sudden absence had prompted Zevran to follow on his trail shortly afterward, leaving Alistair and Dinadan alone in the Dalish camp. A few days later, the sick elves in the camp collectively began to recover. Fevers broke, wounds healed, and within a day many were up and walking again. Despite this good news, however, Alistair noted a troubled expression haunting Lanaya's face. In Zathrian's absence, she had assumed his position, and Alistair had noticed that even in such a short time, the elves had been slightly friendlier toward their small party. Paivel, the clan storyteller, had brought them each a mug of a sweet-tasting drink the previous evening and invited them to join his campfire. This morning, they had awoken to find an anonymous gift of bread left for their breakfast. The elves still kept their voices low and their expressions guarded, and they still called him "shem," but the atmosphere had unquestionably improved. Yet, Lanaya herself did not make any friendly overtures or even speak to them. She spent most of the day next to her aravel, meeting with clan members and trying to hide her worried expression.
Alistair sat on the ground next to Dinadan, breaking off bits of bread and throwing them for the dog to snatch out of mid-air. Their wounds were both almost completely healed – thank the Maker – and they were both getting restless. Suddenly, Dinadan gave a sharp bark and ran to the forest path, wagging his tiny stump of a tail in joy. A few moments later, the weary group stepped into the camp, looking none the worse for wear, and Alistair breathed a silent prayer of relief as he walked over to greet them.
Elaine couldn't help but laugh at Dinadan's exuberance as he flopped onto his back and offered up his belly for a scratch. She kneeled down to indulge him, and he waggled his head back and forth on the ground as he made little woofing noises in joy. She glanced up at Alistair's approach, and he reached out a hand to help her back onto her feet. His hand was warm and dry as she gripped it. And clean, unlike hers, she noted with embarrassment. He gave her hand a small squeeze as she pulled away, and she looked at him quizzically. He smiled at her.
"I'm glad you're back. How did it go?"
Her hand still tingled from his touch, and she rubbed it self-consciously against her leg.
"Um, well enough, I suppose. The werewolves are cured, so that's good news. But Zathrian's gone. I'm not sure how that's going to go over."
"Is he dead?" came a voice from behind her. Elaine turned to find Lanaya, white-knuckled as she gripped her staff and looking rather fierce.
"Yes."
Lanaya's grip eased and her shoulders relaxed. "I thought as much. When he left us so abruptly, I had a feeling he wouldn't return."
"He ended the werewolf curse. He died honorably."
Lanaya gave a small smile. "You are kind to say so. I was not expecting that from a shem-, I mean a human. I'm glad to see his hatred of your kind is not returned. Zathrian was a good Keeper and an honorable leader, but his prejudices ran deep. We are not all so hard-hearted, and many of us want to be on friendlier terms."
Elaine looked at her evenly. "We can be. You're the Keeper now, right? It's up to you how your clan interacts with the rest of the world. We need your help, and good relations between the elves and the Grey Wardens can begin right now. We've done our part. Will you honor the treaty?"
Lanaya nodded. "You'll have everyone we can spare. We will begin preparations immediately. Just let us know when you need us."