A day after her quite surprising conversation with Ash, Nostariel was back in the clinic. She wouldnât say that her concerns had gone away, especially not the ones about the Calling, but⊠they seemed lesser. A great deal lesser at the moment, if she were being honest. She hadnât been able to stop smiling all day, and her good mood seemed to be a little infectious, because the mother and child she bid farewell at her door were smiling, too, and that was saying something at the clinic. Waving after them, she closed the door again gently, deciding to spend some time tidying up since she had no other patients to see at the moment. Business had been a little slow lately, but unlike most people, she tended to prefer that. That she was doing less healing meant that there were fewer injuries and illnesses to heal. It was still early in winter, though, and there would be plenty of colds and fevers within the next few months to keep her busy.
Moving the bucket of soapy water out from under her counter, she set about cleaning her work surfaces, humming softly to herself as she did. Occasionally, sheâd glance at the band of silver on her off hand and grin a little, feeling a bit of a fool. But then, she was probably entitled to a little bit of foolishness, considering the circumstances.
A brief knock on the clinic's door preceded the entrance of Ithilian, who shut the door in short order behind him, to try and keep out a little more of the cold air. He wore a hooded shawl of what appeared to be wolf fur, likely made by himself, from beasts that he had undoubtedly hunted or had to kill himself. What injuries he had sustained helping Nostariel in the Vimmarks had been healed as well as could be, with the Warden's help, and he did not look to be arriving for any sort of medical attention.
In fact, he looked a bit tentative at first, but then shifted his expression into a semi-confused smile when he noted Nostariel's humming, and her obvious good mood. "Hello, Nostariel. You're looking... better than I expected, honestly." He removed the shawl, rolling up the sleeves of the white shirt he wore underneath, and taking a seat in a nearby wooden chair. "Have I missed something?"
Nostariel smiled. âYou should have seen me yesterday.â The comment was light and good-natured, thoughâwhatever parts of those worries that had so plagued her the day before remained did so well away from her general demeanor and mood, chased away by her joy. Drying off the examination table, she put her cleaning supplies back under the counter. âSomething to drink?â
"Sure."
Nostariel nodded, and poured herself some as well. It wasnât anything muchâjust a basic black tea, but thanks to magic, it was piping hot in little time at all. She set it all down on the small, low table in the front part of the clinic, and took a seat across from Ithilian. All this time, sheâd been trying to work out exactly how she was supposed to say it. It still sounded strange, even in her own head, and sheâd had a day to get used to the idea. There was no question she would tell him, of course. Ithilian was her friend, and while she might once have been wary of his reaction only because Ash was human, she no longer felt the need to worry about it.
She took a sip of her tea and set it down on its saucer on the counter, pursing her lips, an endeavor which didnât last long because she couldnât keep herself from smiling. âI, ah⊠Ashton and I are getting married.â
Ithilian smiled as well, as best he could, his scarring still keeping it a one-sided affair on his features. "I thought that might have been it." He had noticed the ring, and now they were seated closer and he could get a better look at it, he could see that it was very finely crafted, the new guard captain's salary being put to work, he imagined. "I'm happy for you. Ashton's not half bad for a shem."
There may have been a time when Ithilian would have disapproved, but back then he hadn't known Nostariel well enough to make judgements on whom she chose to marry, if she chose to marry. Even then, the rational basis for it was the fact that any children the two of them might have would be half-blooded, for all intents and purposes considered human by the likes of the Dalish. Nostariel having children was unlikely at best, but also none of his business. What mattered was that she was happy.
"I'd feared this would be a gloomy conversation, but perhaps it won't be so bad." He had stopped by a few times after returning from the Deep Roads, observed her obvious state, but he'd chosen not to speak to her, under the assumption that Ashton would do so first. Apparently he had by now, or otherwise she went to him, as those issues seemed to be behind them. Still, there were a few things he wanted to inquire about, given that she was a close friend.
"I actually came to check on you, see if you needed or wanted someone to speak with about what happened in the mountains. That was a lot to take in." For her, specifically. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to so unexpectedly learn of one's parents.
The Warden nodded slightly. âIt really was.â Almost too many things for her to properly process them all, even with three weeks to stew. Well, when she hadnât been busy being taken captive and the like. A thoughtful look crossed her face for a moment, and she shook her head ruefully. âYou know⊠Iâd always wondered, about who my family was. I used to pester my teacher in the Circle for ages to tell me anything she could, but⊠there was nothing. I was just there one morning, on the Chantryâs doorstep. I guess Iâd always thought it most likely that theyâd died, or were too poor to keep me, or maybe hadnât wanted me.â That last possibility had bothered her for some time, when she was younger, but as she grew, it seemed to matter less.
âAfter that⊠I guess I figured that it didnât make much difference who they were, because they had so little to do with my life.â She sipped her tea again, the smoothness and the smell soothing in some way. âI might have said something similar when we met, right? That I didnât feel much like an elf because I was busy being a mage and a Warden.â Maybe she hadnât said it aloud, but she recalled thinking it, or something close enough.
âAnd then of course, both of them are mages and one is a Warden, and now Iâm wondering if there really is something to the idea that things can be in our blood.â She quite nearly rolled her eyes at herself, but stopped short. Of course magic was generally thought to be hereditary, but only loosely, and the Warden part was just strange. It would have been an almost-absurd thought to her before all of this, but now⊠well, now she didnât know what she thought. âIt would be quite the coincidence otherwise, wouldnât it?â
"And if it is in your blood, would that be so bad?" Ithilian asked, before taking a drink. He leaned back in the chair. "It takes a certain kind of person to become a Warden, to really become one, as you did. Maybe it was those qualities that are in your blood, and they just happened to lead you down the same road?" He shrugged. "Or it was quite the coincidence, as you say."
He wished he could relate more so that he might help her, but his own early life had been devoid of all the particular troubles Nostariel had faced. It had been nearly a guarantee that he would end up like his parents. They were hunters, warriors, and their parents before them. It was the only way he was taught, and took years and extraordinary amounts of pain to break him even a little free of it. In fact, he was willing to bet a little doubt, a willingness to ask questions, like Nostariel had, might have helped him.
"It must give at least some closure, then, knowing who they were, what they had to do," he said, propping his elbow on the armrest. "Even if you felt you'd already moved on from it. You know now that they did care for you."
Nostariel thought that over for a moment. It was true that it had hurt, to believe they had given her up because they didnât want her. But the way sheâd seen them talk to each other, and about her⊠well, even if it was only a little bit, she could tell from it that they had cared. âI donât know what became of them, and perhaps I never will. Iâm not sure why they had to leave me behind, or if theyâre alive or dead, but⊠youâre right. Itâs enough to know that they cared. That I mattered to them, and that they mattered to one another.â
It was a pleasant thought, and she decided she would keep it.
"And if there's anything in your blood," Ithilian added, "it's your goodness. Something that is sadly hard to come by."
Ithilian stayed a short while longer, but when a patient arrived, he saw it as his cue to depart, and bid Nostariel farewell, stepping back out into the cold. He'd been just about to turn towards the Alienage when he spotted a figure standing still across the street from him, a woman wrapped in a cloak, staring in his direction. It took a moment for him to recognize her without her armor on, but when he did, Ithilian approached her mostly at ease. She offered him a tenuous smile in greeting.
"It's Ithilian, yes?" she asked. "I'm Eliza--"
"Swann, yes, I remember you. The Templar. Were you waiting for me?"
She shifted her weight uncomfortably, clearly not preferring Ithilian's approach to conversation. Nevertheless, she adapted well. "I was on my way to the Alienage, but I saw you enter the Warden's clinic. I thought I'd wait to catch you on your way out."
Ithilian's arms found their way across his chest. She'd given him no reason, but he could not help but feel suspicious of Templars. They had no reason to be bothering the Alienage, as they had done nothing to provoke it. They were not needed as peacekeepers, and so any presence they had could only cause trouble, as he saw it. "And what do you want?"
"I'm not here on orders," she said, "just thought I would come by and give you a heads up. Meredith is increasing some of our patrols, and including the Alienage in that. Pairs of Templars are going to begin sweeping the area roughly once a night. Starting tonight." She clearly understood that the information would not be received well, and delivered it as though the words were the most fragile of glass.
"The Alienage has no need of your patrols. We're fully capable of policing ourselves."
"And the overwhelming majority of us Templars know that, but orders are orders. I can promise you the patrols will make no intrusions into homes, and try to disturb the people as little as possible. We do understand when we're not wanted, and despite what you may have heard, most of us don't want to make trouble where there is none."
"Most. But not all. And all it takes is one."
"Which is why I came to give you this information, so it doesn't come as a surprise when Templars show up on your steps. When we don't find anything interesting, Meredith will back off. I know she will." Ithilian was not nearly as confident of that, but he could tell that this woman was being genuine in her attempts to help make this go smoothly. She was not his enemy, Templar or no, so it would not help to fight her.
Releasing a pent-up breath, he nodded. "Thank you for speaking to me. I'll let the Alienage know." She smiled and nodded back to him, and they went their separate ways, Eliza heading back towards the docks, while Ithilian took the short road to the Alienage.
He found Emerion outside of his home, working with a mortar and pestle, grinding up a steadily shrinking pile of herbs. Silently at first, Ithilian leaned himself up against the awning's support in front of Emerion's doorway.
"Templar patrols are going to start coming through the Alienage. Pairs, random nights. Play it safe, will you?"
Emerion stopped grinding up the herbs when he heard the news, looking up and out at the Alienage in the direction of the great tree. He paused only for a moment, however, soon returning to his work. "Of course." He did not bother to ask how Ithilian had learned the information.
"Where we you today?" Ithilian asked.
"Sundermount," came the immediate reply. Emerion gestured with his towards the small pile at his feet. "Picking these."
"All day? That's not a very large pile."
"There... was a favor I needed to do as well. For an old friend. A Keeper was required for the task." He fell silent. Ithilian waited for an explanation, but none came. Not in the mood for pressing him, he accepted that he would get no more for the moment. Pushing off the wooden post, Ithilian headed in the direction of his own house.
"Remember, Emerion. No risks."
Moving the bucket of soapy water out from under her counter, she set about cleaning her work surfaces, humming softly to herself as she did. Occasionally, sheâd glance at the band of silver on her off hand and grin a little, feeling a bit of a fool. But then, she was probably entitled to a little bit of foolishness, considering the circumstances.
A brief knock on the clinic's door preceded the entrance of Ithilian, who shut the door in short order behind him, to try and keep out a little more of the cold air. He wore a hooded shawl of what appeared to be wolf fur, likely made by himself, from beasts that he had undoubtedly hunted or had to kill himself. What injuries he had sustained helping Nostariel in the Vimmarks had been healed as well as could be, with the Warden's help, and he did not look to be arriving for any sort of medical attention.
In fact, he looked a bit tentative at first, but then shifted his expression into a semi-confused smile when he noted Nostariel's humming, and her obvious good mood. "Hello, Nostariel. You're looking... better than I expected, honestly." He removed the shawl, rolling up the sleeves of the white shirt he wore underneath, and taking a seat in a nearby wooden chair. "Have I missed something?"
Nostariel smiled. âYou should have seen me yesterday.â The comment was light and good-natured, thoughâwhatever parts of those worries that had so plagued her the day before remained did so well away from her general demeanor and mood, chased away by her joy. Drying off the examination table, she put her cleaning supplies back under the counter. âSomething to drink?â
"Sure."
Nostariel nodded, and poured herself some as well. It wasnât anything muchâjust a basic black tea, but thanks to magic, it was piping hot in little time at all. She set it all down on the small, low table in the front part of the clinic, and took a seat across from Ithilian. All this time, sheâd been trying to work out exactly how she was supposed to say it. It still sounded strange, even in her own head, and sheâd had a day to get used to the idea. There was no question she would tell him, of course. Ithilian was her friend, and while she might once have been wary of his reaction only because Ash was human, she no longer felt the need to worry about it.
She took a sip of her tea and set it down on its saucer on the counter, pursing her lips, an endeavor which didnât last long because she couldnât keep herself from smiling. âI, ah⊠Ashton and I are getting married.â
Ithilian smiled as well, as best he could, his scarring still keeping it a one-sided affair on his features. "I thought that might have been it." He had noticed the ring, and now they were seated closer and he could get a better look at it, he could see that it was very finely crafted, the new guard captain's salary being put to work, he imagined. "I'm happy for you. Ashton's not half bad for a shem."
There may have been a time when Ithilian would have disapproved, but back then he hadn't known Nostariel well enough to make judgements on whom she chose to marry, if she chose to marry. Even then, the rational basis for it was the fact that any children the two of them might have would be half-blooded, for all intents and purposes considered human by the likes of the Dalish. Nostariel having children was unlikely at best, but also none of his business. What mattered was that she was happy.
"I'd feared this would be a gloomy conversation, but perhaps it won't be so bad." He had stopped by a few times after returning from the Deep Roads, observed her obvious state, but he'd chosen not to speak to her, under the assumption that Ashton would do so first. Apparently he had by now, or otherwise she went to him, as those issues seemed to be behind them. Still, there were a few things he wanted to inquire about, given that she was a close friend.
"I actually came to check on you, see if you needed or wanted someone to speak with about what happened in the mountains. That was a lot to take in." For her, specifically. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to so unexpectedly learn of one's parents.
The Warden nodded slightly. âIt really was.â Almost too many things for her to properly process them all, even with three weeks to stew. Well, when she hadnât been busy being taken captive and the like. A thoughtful look crossed her face for a moment, and she shook her head ruefully. âYou know⊠Iâd always wondered, about who my family was. I used to pester my teacher in the Circle for ages to tell me anything she could, but⊠there was nothing. I was just there one morning, on the Chantryâs doorstep. I guess Iâd always thought it most likely that theyâd died, or were too poor to keep me, or maybe hadnât wanted me.â That last possibility had bothered her for some time, when she was younger, but as she grew, it seemed to matter less.
âAfter that⊠I guess I figured that it didnât make much difference who they were, because they had so little to do with my life.â She sipped her tea again, the smoothness and the smell soothing in some way. âI might have said something similar when we met, right? That I didnât feel much like an elf because I was busy being a mage and a Warden.â Maybe she hadnât said it aloud, but she recalled thinking it, or something close enough.
âAnd then of course, both of them are mages and one is a Warden, and now Iâm wondering if there really is something to the idea that things can be in our blood.â She quite nearly rolled her eyes at herself, but stopped short. Of course magic was generally thought to be hereditary, but only loosely, and the Warden part was just strange. It would have been an almost-absurd thought to her before all of this, but now⊠well, now she didnât know what she thought. âIt would be quite the coincidence otherwise, wouldnât it?â
"And if it is in your blood, would that be so bad?" Ithilian asked, before taking a drink. He leaned back in the chair. "It takes a certain kind of person to become a Warden, to really become one, as you did. Maybe it was those qualities that are in your blood, and they just happened to lead you down the same road?" He shrugged. "Or it was quite the coincidence, as you say."
He wished he could relate more so that he might help her, but his own early life had been devoid of all the particular troubles Nostariel had faced. It had been nearly a guarantee that he would end up like his parents. They were hunters, warriors, and their parents before them. It was the only way he was taught, and took years and extraordinary amounts of pain to break him even a little free of it. In fact, he was willing to bet a little doubt, a willingness to ask questions, like Nostariel had, might have helped him.
"It must give at least some closure, then, knowing who they were, what they had to do," he said, propping his elbow on the armrest. "Even if you felt you'd already moved on from it. You know now that they did care for you."
Nostariel thought that over for a moment. It was true that it had hurt, to believe they had given her up because they didnât want her. But the way sheâd seen them talk to each other, and about her⊠well, even if it was only a little bit, she could tell from it that they had cared. âI donât know what became of them, and perhaps I never will. Iâm not sure why they had to leave me behind, or if theyâre alive or dead, but⊠youâre right. Itâs enough to know that they cared. That I mattered to them, and that they mattered to one another.â
It was a pleasant thought, and she decided she would keep it.
"And if there's anything in your blood," Ithilian added, "it's your goodness. Something that is sadly hard to come by."
Ithilian stayed a short while longer, but when a patient arrived, he saw it as his cue to depart, and bid Nostariel farewell, stepping back out into the cold. He'd been just about to turn towards the Alienage when he spotted a figure standing still across the street from him, a woman wrapped in a cloak, staring in his direction. It took a moment for him to recognize her without her armor on, but when he did, Ithilian approached her mostly at ease. She offered him a tenuous smile in greeting.
"It's Ithilian, yes?" she asked. "I'm Eliza--"
"Swann, yes, I remember you. The Templar. Were you waiting for me?"
She shifted her weight uncomfortably, clearly not preferring Ithilian's approach to conversation. Nevertheless, she adapted well. "I was on my way to the Alienage, but I saw you enter the Warden's clinic. I thought I'd wait to catch you on your way out."
Ithilian's arms found their way across his chest. She'd given him no reason, but he could not help but feel suspicious of Templars. They had no reason to be bothering the Alienage, as they had done nothing to provoke it. They were not needed as peacekeepers, and so any presence they had could only cause trouble, as he saw it. "And what do you want?"
"I'm not here on orders," she said, "just thought I would come by and give you a heads up. Meredith is increasing some of our patrols, and including the Alienage in that. Pairs of Templars are going to begin sweeping the area roughly once a night. Starting tonight." She clearly understood that the information would not be received well, and delivered it as though the words were the most fragile of glass.
"The Alienage has no need of your patrols. We're fully capable of policing ourselves."
"And the overwhelming majority of us Templars know that, but orders are orders. I can promise you the patrols will make no intrusions into homes, and try to disturb the people as little as possible. We do understand when we're not wanted, and despite what you may have heard, most of us don't want to make trouble where there is none."
"Most. But not all. And all it takes is one."
"Which is why I came to give you this information, so it doesn't come as a surprise when Templars show up on your steps. When we don't find anything interesting, Meredith will back off. I know she will." Ithilian was not nearly as confident of that, but he could tell that this woman was being genuine in her attempts to help make this go smoothly. She was not his enemy, Templar or no, so it would not help to fight her.
Releasing a pent-up breath, he nodded. "Thank you for speaking to me. I'll let the Alienage know." She smiled and nodded back to him, and they went their separate ways, Eliza heading back towards the docks, while Ithilian took the short road to the Alienage.
He found Emerion outside of his home, working with a mortar and pestle, grinding up a steadily shrinking pile of herbs. Silently at first, Ithilian leaned himself up against the awning's support in front of Emerion's doorway.
"Templar patrols are going to start coming through the Alienage. Pairs, random nights. Play it safe, will you?"
Emerion stopped grinding up the herbs when he heard the news, looking up and out at the Alienage in the direction of the great tree. He paused only for a moment, however, soon returning to his work. "Of course." He did not bother to ask how Ithilian had learned the information.
"Where we you today?" Ithilian asked.
"Sundermount," came the immediate reply. Emerion gestured with his towards the small pile at his feet. "Picking these."
"All day? That's not a very large pile."
"There... was a favor I needed to do as well. For an old friend. A Keeper was required for the task." He fell silent. Ithilian waited for an explanation, but none came. Not in the mood for pressing him, he accepted that he would get no more for the moment. Pushing off the wooden post, Ithilian headed in the direction of his own house.
"Remember, Emerion. No risks."