Hello everyone. Since there's a bit of a lag between updates due to the time I was on prac, here's a little interlude to foreshadow things to come. Yes, this is canon, no it's not a reboot or anything. Thanks to a vote in the main quest, we are officially introducing our second Elda into Thedas. I'm curious if people can pick up who exactly this new elf is, I've done my best to conceal it. I hope you enjoy, however short it is.
Cold. Exposed. Dark.
An elf soul is not supposed to be exposed to the Void Between Worlds. The best it can do is huddle into itself and pray that the hostile gaze of its hunters pass it by. Yet, it seems that fortune, or perhaps some other force has intervened this day.
Rushing images. Glimpses of moments that make no sense.
A bright flash of green light.
Long dark hair hangs over his face like a curtain as the Noldo pants heavily. Pale hands grope over head, shoulders and torso. Eyes sweep left and right searching all about him, though what he's searching for none save himself know.
A scream of rage, anguish, grief and fear shatters the quiet morning.
How long the elf lies there he does not know, uncontrollable shivers wrack his body and his mind is far away from the pleasant meadow in which he lies. Eventually, he is startled from his reverie by a voice.
Men, a bearded elder and two smaller youths have approached the Noldo. They speak in some tongue he does not understand.
"Do you not speak a civilised tongue?" The dark haired elf asks contemptuously.
His words serve only to confuse and anger the men. They clearly do not understand Sindarin, but they can understand his manner. They grumble among themselves, and the elder of the two youths yells something at the kneeling elf.
With a snarl the Noldo springs to his feet, his cloak falling back to reveal the sword by his side. Almost immediately the elder drags the younger back, and begins to back away, glaring at the elf as he goes. Dark eyes meet his gaze and the weight of an Elda's gaze proves too much. All three turn and flee towards a small house in the distance.
With a dismissive flick of the cloak, the Noldo turns away and stalks in the opposite direction.
It takes some time for his racing emotions to calm. When they do, the elf realises that he has been acting most foolishly. He knows not where he is, nor does he even know what to do next. Coming to a stop, he considers what he knows.
The chances that these are the Halls of Mandos are slim. He knows little of what happens within that place, but he has not been met by any being of the stature of Melkor, or even a Balrog. So too, does he doubt that mere men would be permitted within the hallow halls of the Blessed Realm. So he is not within the Halls.
Then where? Arda? Perhaps those men he saw were Easterlings of some kind. Except, they had not reacted to him. Even if they do not know of him, they should still know of the Noldor, of the Eldar. Even the most far flung reaches of Arda would know the Avari. Sindarin had been a common tongue to all in Beleriand, even dwarves had spoken it when they came to trade.
Then again, fleeing from an angered Noldo is a sensible decision, perhaps he was too hasty in his interactions with the men.
The elf groans and runs his hands over his face. He is going to have to find humans, learn their language, interrogate them about his location and do it all without attracting the potential notice of either Morgoth or whatever local warlord rules this backwater.
Why must his life be so unfair?
Thedas. Months of effort, of hiding and sneaking, of consorting with the basest of humanity, only to discover he is not even in Arda anymore. In fact, he must be beyond the circle of the world entirely. This world is a sphere for crying out loud! All he needed to do was climb a tree.
No, no. He was a prince of the Noldor, he would not stoop to smashing things like a petulant child. A furious breath hissed out, and the elf collected himself.
Very well, he was in another world named Thedas. Fine. He's been in worse situations. It should not be too difficult to establish himself in the local area, he's done it before. Men will need someone with his unique combination of skills more than most elves would anyway.
So, he gets to work. In most places there are job boards where humans list tasks they lack the skill or courage to complete themselves. He cannot yet read their blocky script, but he can now ask what each says from the strangely dressed females who oversee them.
His first task is to gather some herbs from a forest. He does so, relatively unmolested. More confident, he seeks out another similar job and takes on a task to hunt a particular fox that has been giving a farmer trouble. The hunt is surprisingly easy, almost nostalgic in a way he does not truly understand.
For some weeks he continues to use the job board, but he is not blind. The number of jobs posted is going down. Apparently, something is causing a lull in the bandit population, even as food prices are beginning to spike under a new tax. Whispers begin to arrive of a wizard in a forest.
The elf ignores these whispers, uninterested in human superstitions. However, he is keenly aware that he will likely need to move on soon. If he wants to get into the trade business once more, he will need significant capital to do so. A name known to other traders and connections among them will also be beneficial.
Thus he ends up asking after traders and where they move. Eventually he manages to find his way onto the staff of a trader making his way south to Redcliffe. The man in question is skittish and generally seems untrustworthy, but the pay he offers is higher than expected for this kind of work. Idly the elf wonders why nobody else was willing to take up his offer.
The answer is that the trader is apparently in deep debt to the wrong kind of people. That or he has the worst luck with bandits who happen to know his name. Still, they came in too small a number to trouble even the least of the princes of the Noldor. Crude iron parted beneath his father's blade, and their bodies hit the ground amid the shattered remnants of their weapons.
So began his association with the human known as Desmond. The man was a poor merchant, prone to grand risk yet without the ability to manage that risk appropriately. This prove fortunate, as with assistance, Desmond proved to be an adequate partner; knowledgeable of the ways of trade in this world and gifted at sourcing materials.
Months more pass, the two establishing a small but profitable enterprise. Things likely would have continued in that fashion, but the elf had begun to notice things. The hairs on the back of his neck stand at all hours of the day, and a nameless dread dogs his steps. Quietly, through the contacts he is making he begins to investigate.
He hears whispers. Grey Wardens in the capital. A mercenary elf being raised to nobility, travelling around and speaking to all of any import. Teyrn Loghaine leaving the capital for the first time in years. All the while, his senses begin to point towards the south. To a darkness rising there.
Perhaps most importantly he hears more of the wizard. How he had taken an apprentice and defied the chantry to do so. How he tamed a Dalish mage and spoke freely to king and noble alike.
Most importantly, he hears of a red cloak and a white star.