Khari stomped out of the tent, feeling not so unlike the child she'd been the last time she was here. Had it really been ten years ago now? Almost—she'd been fifteen when she left her clan. She could see the years in her mother's face. In her father's eyes. Hard years, by the look of it, and she wondered if maybe... if maybe some of that wasn't her fault. She slowed upon striking the thought, though in truth it had been lingering since Vareth asked her to come here. Ten years had changed him, and her, and her parents, too, it seemed. She'd thought... she'd thought it would be better, if she was dead to them. If she never bothered them again. Her mom especially had sometimes made her feel like it would be.
But her anger was as swift to leave her as it was to appear, and she felt it dissolving. By the time she was ten yards clear of the tent, she'd stopped, sighing heavily and scrubbing her hands down her face as well as she could considering the gauntlets still there. Dinner did seem to be almost done; the people whose turn it was to prepare it were setting up the tables they'd put it all on with the clan's wooden dishware, lined with leaves for easy cleaning. She wasn't sure she was really hungry, though.
"Hey." Rom caught up behind her, jogging a few steps like he thought he'd get lost if she got too far away from him in this place. He kept his hands to himself, but it was easy to see he was concerned. "That, uh..." he struggled to find some words, but they seemed to elude him. "Yeah."
“Yeah." She looked at him for a moment, then snorted, cracking a smile. “Heh. Sorry. You just got a front row seat for... most of the rest of the dysfunction in my life." The smile faded, and she shook her head. “I swear there's good stuff about this, though. About here. You, uh... you want the tour? It's pretty short." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to center herself in the present. However similar it felt to dozens of incidents she'd been through as a child, she wasn't one. And she wasn't alone in the world, either. Not even here. Rom had come all this way because she'd asked him to. Somehow, that made her feel better about it.
By the looks of it, he was more than willing to accept the change in direction for the visit. "Sure. Let's see it."
“Great." Khari was surprised to find she meant it. This was easier than letting herself linger on what had just happened; she didn't have to be as broody as she was as a kid if she didn't want to, surely. In the interest of not brooding, then, she walked them to the left. “So the boat-looking things are called aravels. I know the sails look kind of stupid, but they're helpful when we're on water, so there they are." She paused, cracking a smile. “I hear some of the clans don't even make them solid anymore because they're never near water. Makes it lighter for the halla to pull, but they keep the sails for some damn reason." She rolled her eyes.
“Mostly they just carry our stuff, but they're big enough for passengers if necessary. There's like... attachments for if we use them to ford, and the wheels can come off, too." She rapped the side of one with her knuckles; the sound it produced was a bit odd. Too metallic for wood. “Hear that? Ironbark. Light and buoyant as oak, hard to cut as steel. Not all clans can make their aravels out of the stuff. You have to have a really good shaper for that. My, uh..." She cleared her throat. “My mom's really good. Her and a couple of the others."
"Huh." Rom pulled a glove off, feeling the outside of the aravel for himself. "Yeah, I can see why they'd want this for themselves."
Khari nodded. “Lot of Dalish armor gets made out of it, too, for—" She cut herself off when Vareth approached, smiling for some reason she couldn't fathom. Just behind him, half-hidden behind his leg, walked a very small child, probably no more than seven or eight. For a moment, Khari considered the truly bizarre possibility that the little girl could be his child, but that would have been a little soon even by Dalish standards, and they looked nothing alike. In fact, she looked like... shit.
"Sorry to interrupt." Vareth tilted his head, not looking all that contrite about it. "But I wanted to let you know that we've unpacked a couple of aravels for the two of you. There's other things to wear in them, if you'd prefer not to remain in your armor. Also, someone would like to meet you." His smile grew, and he glanced down at the little honey-blonde girl, face still bare, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and ushering her forward. "Go on; they're not scary, I promise."
The child blinked rather enormous blue-green eyes up at them, straightening her posture almost unconsciously, it seemed. "I'm Senna." She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic. It was smeared in quite a lot of dirt. "Adna's being dumb and won't play tag because she thinks we're cheating, so now we need more people and none of the grown-ups will play because they're boring, so I asked Vareth and he said I should ask you guys." She expelled the entire explanation in a single breath, which even Khari found impressive, then pursed her lips. "You're not boring, are you?"
Khari put her hands on her hips. On the one hand, this was very clearly Vareth being an opportunistic bastard. On the other... “We are absolutely not boring. Let me take off my boring adult armor and stuff, but then you better be ready. I'm the best Dread Wolf ever, and I always catch all the little hallas when I play, so you're gonna have to tell everyone else to run really fast, okay?"
Senna flashed a mouthful of teeth, at least three of them missing from obvious gaps in her smile, and nodded. "You won't catch me though. I'm the best halla."
“Oh yeah? We'll see." Senna bounded off, presumably to prepare the others, and Khari turned to Rom. “Can't hurt to get out of the armor, right?"
Rom was actually grinning too, though his was a little more subdued than Senna's had been, and thankfully still in possession of all his teeth. Apparently the Revenant hadn't managed to remove any in the fight earlier. "The best Dread Wolf ever?" He asked, a glint in his eyes. "You sure you can back that up?"
“Positive."
Vareth, shaking his head but clearly amused, guided them to the aravels that had been set up. Stepping inside hers, Khari shucked her armor as quickly as she could, peeling out of her sweaty clothes underneath. A few other tunics and things had been left in a neat stack near the blankets in the corner; she threw on a dark blue one and a new pair of trousers, but nothing beat fresh socks. She savored the feeling of stepping back into her boots, not hesitating to leave her sword behind with the rest of her gear.
When she met back up with Rom, she led the way out into the forest. She knew the spot where the kids would be—that much hadn't changed, she suspected. “Dread Wolf and the halla isn't just any old game of tag, you know." She delivered the advice with false solemnity. “The halla can also hide, or mob the wolf until she surrenders. But if she holds a halla for five seconds, they're out. Sometimes it turns into more of a fight than anything. Mind the kids... they might bite." She grinned; she'd used to play the game pretty dirty herself, though of course she wouldn't actually do anything like that now.
They reached the clearing to find an assemblage of five children, including Senna, ranging in age from about six up to ten or so, from the looks of them. Khari found it uncanny that she could guess who some of them had for parents just by looking at them—and Senna was definitely Elasha's daughter. They looked excited when she and Rom entered the little clearing, a few of them bouncing up and down on their toes. No doubt being able to play with new people was merely interesting to them, rather than the cause for discomfort or wariness strangers could be with their parents.
“All right, little hallas, I dunno how you play this game anymore, but when I played, all was fair in love and war. So you better watch out, or the Dread Wolf's gonna get you!" She raised her arms to the level of her shoulders and hooked her fingers into claws, running at them with a growl.
They squealed and scattered, spreading out over the clearing, a few of the more cautious ones ducking behind trees or trying to place other obstacles between themselves and Khari.
Rom dodged away from her, jogging backwards and keeping an almost uncanny certainty of the environment around him, never once tripping over anything the other kids were moving about. He'd changed into a fresh, armless tunic and fresh trousers, boots stepping lightly over the dirt and grass. He held his arms out to the sides in invitation. "Five seconds, was it? Keep dreaming."
He had a knack for it. Rather than run from the Dread Wolf like the other little halla, Rom was acting more like the halla that fought back, albeit with hefty doses of good timing and deft work with his hands and feet. He had a way of showing up just as she was about to ensnare one of her squealing prey, cutting her off, prying them free, giving them just enough time to disappear again into some new hiding place. When she went for him he proved that the unarmed knowledge he was passing to her still had a ways to go. He was impossibly slippery; never did she have him for more than a second or two.
It wasn't long before the kids were dirty and sweaty, but still breathlessly enjoying themselves. They'd found themselves a hero of sorts before long, a few of the braver ones catching on and taking on the Dread Wolf beside him, grabbing at her legs until she was able to turn their attention on them. At one point one was a bit too slow, finding himself caught in her grip.
At least until Rom arrived from behind, snaking arms underneath hers and loosening her grip. The boy darted free, and Rom twined his legs through Khari's from behind, tipping them both over backwards into the grass with Rom beneath her. He laughed against a face-full of her hair. "Now, halla, now!" Screaming, all five of the kids made the rush and piled on top of Khari, Senna the first one to dive in. They latched on to her legs and arms, giggling with the effort, one wrapping all of his limbs around her midsection.
“Nooo!" Khari flailed, though not too hard. It was one thing to struggle at full steam against Rom, another thing entirely when she was being mobbed by small children. “They're too much!" She laughed, steadying Senna when the girl almost fell off in her enthusiasm. “Ah, I'm overwhelmed. The Dread Wolf has been defeated by the mighty and brave halla!"
The kids cheered, clambering off and playfully shoving at each other in celebration of their 'victory' over their dire antagonist. Khari rolled off Rom, landing on her side next to him in the grass, still laughing, though it trailed off into a grin. She whacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Move over, Ghilan'nain. The halla have a new hero."
Rom relaxed on his back, letting his limbs fall to his sides with a satisfied sigh. "And he's probably the strangest person they've ever met." He lolled his to the side, raising an eyebrow at Khari. "Well, except for you."
A few of the children giggled at that. When one of the boys came a bit too close on Rom's left side, he ensnared him gently, pulling him down with a playful growl. "Maybe I'll get to be the Dread Wolf next time, huh? That sounds fun." He tickled the kid and mussed with his hair, letting him escape a few seconds later to rejoin the others, all still grinning and restless.
Khari snorted. “I dunno. These halla are pretty tenacious. I'm sure they could take on two Dread Wolves if they had to." She sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “All right. How many of the halla are hungry?" The question produced some enthusiasm, with a tiny chorus of me, me, me and a considerable amount of jumping around.
“Okay. Well, I bet the boring adults are done with the food by now, so let's go eat, you little heathens." She offered a hand down to Rom. “Ever had bear jerky?" There would be plenty of other stuff to eat, of course, and probably more than one choice of drink as well, but as good as a Dalish venison roast was... most people had probably eaten a deer before. Bear jerky was definitely more of a clan thing.
"Can't say I have," Rom said, confirming it. He took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, brushing himself off.
By the time they made it back to the camp, the food was indeed out, most of the people present having already taken what they intended to eat. There was plenty of open seating around the fire; Vareth glanced up at their arrival and smiled from his spot at her dad's right. There was a decent open space next to him on the bench, with enough room for both of them; Khari supposed it wouldn't hurt to take it. She avoided eye contact with either of her parents, for now, watching the kids swarm the food like locusts instead. It wasn't all that bad; they like any Dalish knew not to waste anything, and so they were careful in the actual process of retrieving what they wanted.
Khari was, too, spearing a bit of the venison steak with her knife and loading that into her bowl first, followed by a mix of wild greens and nuts. They must have traded for flour recently, because there was unleavened bread out, too, glistening with almost-clear halla butter. Once her bowl was laden down, she sat next to Vareth, leaving room for Rom on her other side. Senna parked herself on the ground near Khari's feet, as did a couple of the other kids. Probably the ones without parents to sit next to. The clan would take care of them, she knew that, but... it wouldn't be quite the same as having a family of one's own.
There were only about fifteen adults in the clan, including Vareth and her father and mother. All of them were here, most talking amongst themselves, largely, it would seem, unperturbed by the unusual presences. A few lifted hands to her in greeting, but they maintained a bit of distance. That wasn't unexpected, really.
“Manaran gonna tell a story?" She put the question to Vareth, who shrugged.
"Probably. Might ask you or Romulus for one, too, though. I believe he's trying to expand his collection of them."
Rom took the time to finish chewing through something before he spoke. He'd gotten noticeably more tense again as they worked their way back into the others, and that only grew worse when Vareth suggested the idea of telling a story. He was trying to hide it, but doing a pretty poor job of it. "I, uh... doubt I have any stories fit for sharing." He looked a bit guilty at trying to worm his way out of it, but then glanced at the kids at their feet. "Not for children, anyway."
"It certainly isn't obligatory." Vareth smiled sympathetically. "Though I suspect most of the children have heard worse things than you think."
That might be true. The Dalish did their best to let kids be kids, but there wasn't any hiding some things from them. Not when they might need it to survive someday. Khari had known what skinhawkers were before she really understood why they'd want anything to do with her. Before she'd known them by that name. She'd known what hunger was, what it was like for someone to be present one day and gone the next. They were facts of life early, here. But she also had a fair guess at what some of Rom's stories were about, and she figured he was probably right not to want to share them.
Across the fire, Manaran stood. He was quite old; Khari supposed he had to be nearing seventy or so, now. His hair had turned completely white; he kept it braided back away from his face, beads and feathers and other odd bits adorning it and clinking softly together whenever he moved. As though that were a signal, Vareth vacated his seat as well, moving around the fire to sit on the ground in front of it on the other side, just slightly to the right of the hahren.
Khari didn't remember Manaran as the type to stand on ceremony, and he didn't seem to have changed in that respect since she'd last been here. "Long ago..." He trailed off, making sure he had everyone's attention before he proceeded. "Long ago, the gods walked the earth, shaping everything within to their desires, sculpting cities and landscapes and possibility with thought. Elgar'nan the All-Father, firstborn of the sun, our avenger."
The smoke from the fire warped, twisting and gathering into a collection of thorny vines, which spread and converged to form the silhouette of a tall, muscular elf with a lance in one hand and a curl of magic in the other. Khari's brows knit, confused until she spotted Vareth focusing intently on the smoke. Apparently the hahren's stories now had a visual component. She kind of liked it—a smile touched her mouth.
The figure threw its lance, which burst apart, growing into a mighty tree. A feminine form emerged from the trunk as though she were made from it. "Mythal the All-Mother, our protector and our guardian." The two shapes approached each other, reaching out and touching fingertips. The tree behind them split in twain, forming into two others, identical in size and proportion. "Their twin sons, Falon'Din the guide of the dead, and Dirthamen, the master of ravens, keeper of secrets."
Khari paused in the act of chewing. She couldn't feel the vallaslin on her face, but sometimes it was almost like she could. She swallowed, watching more figures appear from the smoke.
"Andruil, lady of the hunt, teacher of the Vir Tanadhal, the way of three trees. Sylaise, keeper of the hearth and the fire in our hearts. June, who first shaped ironbark, and built all of the grandest spires and bridges over the span of the world. And Ghilan'nain, who taught the halla to traverse the hidden paths, that they might always help us find our way."
At the mention of the word halla, Senna giggled, glancing up at Khari and Rom. Khari grinned at her, scooting over a bit into the space Vareth had occupied and patting the bench between she and her friend. Senna took the spot without hesitation, kicking her feet back and forth underneath her, apparently utterly enchanted with the little smoke figures. Khari had a feeling that was probably the point of them. Hell, she might have paid more attention to the stories when she was a kid if they'd been animated this way.
"But even in ages past, the gods themselves were at war for their very survival. The Void-Dwellers envied their power and their light, and tried always to seize what was not theirs to take." The Forgotten Ones, perhaps fittingly, were much vaguer in shape than the gods, looming as barely-humanoid pillars of smoke. The gods aligned against them, ghostly armament appearing in their hands. The two groups clashed, Vareth moving his fingers rapidly like a puppeteer without strings.
Khari thought it looked kind of funny, but Senna gasped, grabbing hold of one of her hands and one of Rom's, eyes wide and fixed on the scene. Setting the remains of her food aside, Khari squeezed the little girl's hand. Probably this was the point where she was supposed to say there was no need to worry, but the truth was this story didn't end that well, exactly.
"War was perpetual, life eternal but for death on the field, each new generation joining the fight. But though the lines had been sharply drawn, there was one who walked both sides of the divide, welcomed by all, both righteous and malicious." Gathering over the rest, the figure of a wolf's head emerged from the smoke, its jaws parting and tongue lolling out. Embers, carefully lifted from the fire, gave if four red, glowing eyes, two placed right above the normal pair.
"Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf."
Manaran folded his hands behind his back. "With deception did the Dread Wolf draw all the Creators and the Void-Dwellers to a single battlefield, and with cunning and stolen magic did he devour them, tearing away from them their connection to the world, their ability to shape what lay before them. He sundered the worlds, and trapped all the others in the Beyond." Abruptly, all the figures vanished, smoke curling into the air. The wolf's eyes lingered a little longer before they faded, embers burning out.
"And from that time, we were alone." Khari blinked. This was usually the part where Barildal went off on some tangent about humans and how they'd robbed the remaining elves of their immortality or something, but Manaran refrained. Maybe because Rom was here? Either way, Khari didn't mind. The story was kind of better this way.
Senna wrinkled her nose. "I wish he'd told one of the happy stories."
Khari didn't think there were any, but she refrained from saying so.
Dissatisfaction gone faster than Vareth's smoke-figures, the little girl turned to Rom. "I've never seen tattoos like yours before. Does your clan do them differently? Which god are they for?"
"Uh." His thoughts obviously scrambled, and he shook the little girl's hand back and forth, maybe as a distraction. "Sylaise, actually. The Firekeeper? Not the most exciting choice, I know." Another thought occurred to him. "My clan is very strange, though, it's true. They lived far from here, and I got these marks just after I was born." He studied the girl a little. "What about you? Do you know what marks you'll get, when you grow up?"
Khari coughed, attempting to keep a relatively straight face. Senna didn't seem to notice, fortunately enough. "It's Hearthkeeper, silly. Not Firekeeper. Your clan must be really backwards. And how did you know what you wanted when you were a baby, anyhow?"
"Ah. Well." Rom obviously hadn't thought that through before he attempted the answer. He looked like he might've attempted some other kind of lie, but in the end just smiled gently. "My mother chose them for me. That's how my clan does it. A way of... forever tying the two together. Something that can't be erased, even if something might happen that... pulls the two of them apart." He blinked a couple times, swallowing, and then letting his eyes find the fire.
"I want Mythal's." Senna sounded decisive. "My mom had them. She protected the clan from danger. Everyone says she was a hero." Her voice fell. "I want her back, but Vareth says she has to help the gods now. So maybe if I'm good like her, I'll be able to help the gods someday, too. Like she is. And maybe we'll be tied together, too." She patted Rom's hand, leaning against his arm a little.
Khari sighed quietly, reaching forward to place a hand on Senna's head and ruffle her hair gently. “You will. But I'm sure she wants you to have a nice long life first, so you can tell her all about it when you see her again."
Senna nodded solemnly. "I know. When I see her, she's gonna be really proud of me. I'm gonna make sure."
Khari swallowed. Gonna make sure, huh? This little kid already knew something she didn't—what it was like to lose a parent. To really have no hope of seeing them again, unless maybe the stories about the gods or the Maker or someone were real. To have a whole life ahead of her without any of that. And here she was, with every opportunity to start making her own situation better, to at least try mending the damage everyone had done to each other. Hell, Rom didn't even have parents, or anything even remotely close.
She felt like a big idiot. Pulling in a deep breath, Khari closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. Her parents didn't understand her. That much was true. And some of the things they'd said and done over the years—her mother especially—were like Vareth said. Things Khari hadn't deserved. Things no child deserved. But... she knew she hadn't been an easy child, either. No one signed up for raising someone like her, even if they knew as well as any new parent could what they were getting into. And... she'd done the wrong thing, when she ran away. She knew that now.
Cracking her eyes open, Khari reached over to touch Rom's shoulder. She hesitated a moment, then spoke. “Can I... can I talk to you later? After it's dark. I need... I need to go talk to my parents. I've gotta... try this, one more time." She knew he'd be able to hear both the shame and the resolve weighing her tone down, even if she wasn't wearing them quite so much on her sleeve as usual. She felt suddenly like she had a thousand things to say and none at all. But even she knew that sometimes, things had to happen in a certain order.
And before she did anything else, she needed to lance the wound. Burn it clean, for everyone involved. No matter how much it was going to hurt.
Rom sniffed a little. His arm was around the girl's shoulder now, pulling him into his side somewhat. He looked over at Khari, his expression hard to read. It was a mix of a lot of things, though, that was for sure. "You want me to be there?"
She considered it. But ultimately, she shook her head. “It's... I think I have to do this myself. Just me and them. But... but I'll be able to, now." Because he was here at all. The words lingered on her tongue for just a moment, but she didn't say them. Not here, not now. Everything in the right order, or it might fall apart.
She cracked an uneasy smile. “Wish me luck?"
He returned it. "It'll be alright."
But her anger was as swift to leave her as it was to appear, and she felt it dissolving. By the time she was ten yards clear of the tent, she'd stopped, sighing heavily and scrubbing her hands down her face as well as she could considering the gauntlets still there. Dinner did seem to be almost done; the people whose turn it was to prepare it were setting up the tables they'd put it all on with the clan's wooden dishware, lined with leaves for easy cleaning. She wasn't sure she was really hungry, though.
"Hey." Rom caught up behind her, jogging a few steps like he thought he'd get lost if she got too far away from him in this place. He kept his hands to himself, but it was easy to see he was concerned. "That, uh..." he struggled to find some words, but they seemed to elude him. "Yeah."
“Yeah." She looked at him for a moment, then snorted, cracking a smile. “Heh. Sorry. You just got a front row seat for... most of the rest of the dysfunction in my life." The smile faded, and she shook her head. “I swear there's good stuff about this, though. About here. You, uh... you want the tour? It's pretty short." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to center herself in the present. However similar it felt to dozens of incidents she'd been through as a child, she wasn't one. And she wasn't alone in the world, either. Not even here. Rom had come all this way because she'd asked him to. Somehow, that made her feel better about it.
By the looks of it, he was more than willing to accept the change in direction for the visit. "Sure. Let's see it."
“Great." Khari was surprised to find she meant it. This was easier than letting herself linger on what had just happened; she didn't have to be as broody as she was as a kid if she didn't want to, surely. In the interest of not brooding, then, she walked them to the left. “So the boat-looking things are called aravels. I know the sails look kind of stupid, but they're helpful when we're on water, so there they are." She paused, cracking a smile. “I hear some of the clans don't even make them solid anymore because they're never near water. Makes it lighter for the halla to pull, but they keep the sails for some damn reason." She rolled her eyes.
“Mostly they just carry our stuff, but they're big enough for passengers if necessary. There's like... attachments for if we use them to ford, and the wheels can come off, too." She rapped the side of one with her knuckles; the sound it produced was a bit odd. Too metallic for wood. “Hear that? Ironbark. Light and buoyant as oak, hard to cut as steel. Not all clans can make their aravels out of the stuff. You have to have a really good shaper for that. My, uh..." She cleared her throat. “My mom's really good. Her and a couple of the others."
"Huh." Rom pulled a glove off, feeling the outside of the aravel for himself. "Yeah, I can see why they'd want this for themselves."
Khari nodded. “Lot of Dalish armor gets made out of it, too, for—" She cut herself off when Vareth approached, smiling for some reason she couldn't fathom. Just behind him, half-hidden behind his leg, walked a very small child, probably no more than seven or eight. For a moment, Khari considered the truly bizarre possibility that the little girl could be his child, but that would have been a little soon even by Dalish standards, and they looked nothing alike. In fact, she looked like... shit.
"Sorry to interrupt." Vareth tilted his head, not looking all that contrite about it. "But I wanted to let you know that we've unpacked a couple of aravels for the two of you. There's other things to wear in them, if you'd prefer not to remain in your armor. Also, someone would like to meet you." His smile grew, and he glanced down at the little honey-blonde girl, face still bare, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and ushering her forward. "Go on; they're not scary, I promise."
The child blinked rather enormous blue-green eyes up at them, straightening her posture almost unconsciously, it seemed. "I'm Senna." She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic. It was smeared in quite a lot of dirt. "Adna's being dumb and won't play tag because she thinks we're cheating, so now we need more people and none of the grown-ups will play because they're boring, so I asked Vareth and he said I should ask you guys." She expelled the entire explanation in a single breath, which even Khari found impressive, then pursed her lips. "You're not boring, are you?"
Khari put her hands on her hips. On the one hand, this was very clearly Vareth being an opportunistic bastard. On the other... “We are absolutely not boring. Let me take off my boring adult armor and stuff, but then you better be ready. I'm the best Dread Wolf ever, and I always catch all the little hallas when I play, so you're gonna have to tell everyone else to run really fast, okay?"
Senna flashed a mouthful of teeth, at least three of them missing from obvious gaps in her smile, and nodded. "You won't catch me though. I'm the best halla."
“Oh yeah? We'll see." Senna bounded off, presumably to prepare the others, and Khari turned to Rom. “Can't hurt to get out of the armor, right?"
Rom was actually grinning too, though his was a little more subdued than Senna's had been, and thankfully still in possession of all his teeth. Apparently the Revenant hadn't managed to remove any in the fight earlier. "The best Dread Wolf ever?" He asked, a glint in his eyes. "You sure you can back that up?"
“Positive."
Vareth, shaking his head but clearly amused, guided them to the aravels that had been set up. Stepping inside hers, Khari shucked her armor as quickly as she could, peeling out of her sweaty clothes underneath. A few other tunics and things had been left in a neat stack near the blankets in the corner; she threw on a dark blue one and a new pair of trousers, but nothing beat fresh socks. She savored the feeling of stepping back into her boots, not hesitating to leave her sword behind with the rest of her gear.
When she met back up with Rom, she led the way out into the forest. She knew the spot where the kids would be—that much hadn't changed, she suspected. “Dread Wolf and the halla isn't just any old game of tag, you know." She delivered the advice with false solemnity. “The halla can also hide, or mob the wolf until she surrenders. But if she holds a halla for five seconds, they're out. Sometimes it turns into more of a fight than anything. Mind the kids... they might bite." She grinned; she'd used to play the game pretty dirty herself, though of course she wouldn't actually do anything like that now.
They reached the clearing to find an assemblage of five children, including Senna, ranging in age from about six up to ten or so, from the looks of them. Khari found it uncanny that she could guess who some of them had for parents just by looking at them—and Senna was definitely Elasha's daughter. They looked excited when she and Rom entered the little clearing, a few of them bouncing up and down on their toes. No doubt being able to play with new people was merely interesting to them, rather than the cause for discomfort or wariness strangers could be with their parents.
“All right, little hallas, I dunno how you play this game anymore, but when I played, all was fair in love and war. So you better watch out, or the Dread Wolf's gonna get you!" She raised her arms to the level of her shoulders and hooked her fingers into claws, running at them with a growl.
They squealed and scattered, spreading out over the clearing, a few of the more cautious ones ducking behind trees or trying to place other obstacles between themselves and Khari.
Rom dodged away from her, jogging backwards and keeping an almost uncanny certainty of the environment around him, never once tripping over anything the other kids were moving about. He'd changed into a fresh, armless tunic and fresh trousers, boots stepping lightly over the dirt and grass. He held his arms out to the sides in invitation. "Five seconds, was it? Keep dreaming."
He had a knack for it. Rather than run from the Dread Wolf like the other little halla, Rom was acting more like the halla that fought back, albeit with hefty doses of good timing and deft work with his hands and feet. He had a way of showing up just as she was about to ensnare one of her squealing prey, cutting her off, prying them free, giving them just enough time to disappear again into some new hiding place. When she went for him he proved that the unarmed knowledge he was passing to her still had a ways to go. He was impossibly slippery; never did she have him for more than a second or two.
It wasn't long before the kids were dirty and sweaty, but still breathlessly enjoying themselves. They'd found themselves a hero of sorts before long, a few of the braver ones catching on and taking on the Dread Wolf beside him, grabbing at her legs until she was able to turn their attention on them. At one point one was a bit too slow, finding himself caught in her grip.
At least until Rom arrived from behind, snaking arms underneath hers and loosening her grip. The boy darted free, and Rom twined his legs through Khari's from behind, tipping them both over backwards into the grass with Rom beneath her. He laughed against a face-full of her hair. "Now, halla, now!" Screaming, all five of the kids made the rush and piled on top of Khari, Senna the first one to dive in. They latched on to her legs and arms, giggling with the effort, one wrapping all of his limbs around her midsection.
“Nooo!" Khari flailed, though not too hard. It was one thing to struggle at full steam against Rom, another thing entirely when she was being mobbed by small children. “They're too much!" She laughed, steadying Senna when the girl almost fell off in her enthusiasm. “Ah, I'm overwhelmed. The Dread Wolf has been defeated by the mighty and brave halla!"
The kids cheered, clambering off and playfully shoving at each other in celebration of their 'victory' over their dire antagonist. Khari rolled off Rom, landing on her side next to him in the grass, still laughing, though it trailed off into a grin. She whacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Move over, Ghilan'nain. The halla have a new hero."
Rom relaxed on his back, letting his limbs fall to his sides with a satisfied sigh. "And he's probably the strangest person they've ever met." He lolled his to the side, raising an eyebrow at Khari. "Well, except for you."
A few of the children giggled at that. When one of the boys came a bit too close on Rom's left side, he ensnared him gently, pulling him down with a playful growl. "Maybe I'll get to be the Dread Wolf next time, huh? That sounds fun." He tickled the kid and mussed with his hair, letting him escape a few seconds later to rejoin the others, all still grinning and restless.
Khari snorted. “I dunno. These halla are pretty tenacious. I'm sure they could take on two Dread Wolves if they had to." She sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “All right. How many of the halla are hungry?" The question produced some enthusiasm, with a tiny chorus of me, me, me and a considerable amount of jumping around.
“Okay. Well, I bet the boring adults are done with the food by now, so let's go eat, you little heathens." She offered a hand down to Rom. “Ever had bear jerky?" There would be plenty of other stuff to eat, of course, and probably more than one choice of drink as well, but as good as a Dalish venison roast was... most people had probably eaten a deer before. Bear jerky was definitely more of a clan thing.
"Can't say I have," Rom said, confirming it. He took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, brushing himself off.
By the time they made it back to the camp, the food was indeed out, most of the people present having already taken what they intended to eat. There was plenty of open seating around the fire; Vareth glanced up at their arrival and smiled from his spot at her dad's right. There was a decent open space next to him on the bench, with enough room for both of them; Khari supposed it wouldn't hurt to take it. She avoided eye contact with either of her parents, for now, watching the kids swarm the food like locusts instead. It wasn't all that bad; they like any Dalish knew not to waste anything, and so they were careful in the actual process of retrieving what they wanted.
Khari was, too, spearing a bit of the venison steak with her knife and loading that into her bowl first, followed by a mix of wild greens and nuts. They must have traded for flour recently, because there was unleavened bread out, too, glistening with almost-clear halla butter. Once her bowl was laden down, she sat next to Vareth, leaving room for Rom on her other side. Senna parked herself on the ground near Khari's feet, as did a couple of the other kids. Probably the ones without parents to sit next to. The clan would take care of them, she knew that, but... it wouldn't be quite the same as having a family of one's own.
There were only about fifteen adults in the clan, including Vareth and her father and mother. All of them were here, most talking amongst themselves, largely, it would seem, unperturbed by the unusual presences. A few lifted hands to her in greeting, but they maintained a bit of distance. That wasn't unexpected, really.
“Manaran gonna tell a story?" She put the question to Vareth, who shrugged.
"Probably. Might ask you or Romulus for one, too, though. I believe he's trying to expand his collection of them."
Rom took the time to finish chewing through something before he spoke. He'd gotten noticeably more tense again as they worked their way back into the others, and that only grew worse when Vareth suggested the idea of telling a story. He was trying to hide it, but doing a pretty poor job of it. "I, uh... doubt I have any stories fit for sharing." He looked a bit guilty at trying to worm his way out of it, but then glanced at the kids at their feet. "Not for children, anyway."
"It certainly isn't obligatory." Vareth smiled sympathetically. "Though I suspect most of the children have heard worse things than you think."
That might be true. The Dalish did their best to let kids be kids, but there wasn't any hiding some things from them. Not when they might need it to survive someday. Khari had known what skinhawkers were before she really understood why they'd want anything to do with her. Before she'd known them by that name. She'd known what hunger was, what it was like for someone to be present one day and gone the next. They were facts of life early, here. But she also had a fair guess at what some of Rom's stories were about, and she figured he was probably right not to want to share them.
Across the fire, Manaran stood. He was quite old; Khari supposed he had to be nearing seventy or so, now. His hair had turned completely white; he kept it braided back away from his face, beads and feathers and other odd bits adorning it and clinking softly together whenever he moved. As though that were a signal, Vareth vacated his seat as well, moving around the fire to sit on the ground in front of it on the other side, just slightly to the right of the hahren.
Khari didn't remember Manaran as the type to stand on ceremony, and he didn't seem to have changed in that respect since she'd last been here. "Long ago..." He trailed off, making sure he had everyone's attention before he proceeded. "Long ago, the gods walked the earth, shaping everything within to their desires, sculpting cities and landscapes and possibility with thought. Elgar'nan the All-Father, firstborn of the sun, our avenger."
The smoke from the fire warped, twisting and gathering into a collection of thorny vines, which spread and converged to form the silhouette of a tall, muscular elf with a lance in one hand and a curl of magic in the other. Khari's brows knit, confused until she spotted Vareth focusing intently on the smoke. Apparently the hahren's stories now had a visual component. She kind of liked it—a smile touched her mouth.
The figure threw its lance, which burst apart, growing into a mighty tree. A feminine form emerged from the trunk as though she were made from it. "Mythal the All-Mother, our protector and our guardian." The two shapes approached each other, reaching out and touching fingertips. The tree behind them split in twain, forming into two others, identical in size and proportion. "Their twin sons, Falon'Din the guide of the dead, and Dirthamen, the master of ravens, keeper of secrets."
Khari paused in the act of chewing. She couldn't feel the vallaslin on her face, but sometimes it was almost like she could. She swallowed, watching more figures appear from the smoke.
"Andruil, lady of the hunt, teacher of the Vir Tanadhal, the way of three trees. Sylaise, keeper of the hearth and the fire in our hearts. June, who first shaped ironbark, and built all of the grandest spires and bridges over the span of the world. And Ghilan'nain, who taught the halla to traverse the hidden paths, that they might always help us find our way."
At the mention of the word halla, Senna giggled, glancing up at Khari and Rom. Khari grinned at her, scooting over a bit into the space Vareth had occupied and patting the bench between she and her friend. Senna took the spot without hesitation, kicking her feet back and forth underneath her, apparently utterly enchanted with the little smoke figures. Khari had a feeling that was probably the point of them. Hell, she might have paid more attention to the stories when she was a kid if they'd been animated this way.
"But even in ages past, the gods themselves were at war for their very survival. The Void-Dwellers envied their power and their light, and tried always to seize what was not theirs to take." The Forgotten Ones, perhaps fittingly, were much vaguer in shape than the gods, looming as barely-humanoid pillars of smoke. The gods aligned against them, ghostly armament appearing in their hands. The two groups clashed, Vareth moving his fingers rapidly like a puppeteer without strings.
Khari thought it looked kind of funny, but Senna gasped, grabbing hold of one of her hands and one of Rom's, eyes wide and fixed on the scene. Setting the remains of her food aside, Khari squeezed the little girl's hand. Probably this was the point where she was supposed to say there was no need to worry, but the truth was this story didn't end that well, exactly.
"War was perpetual, life eternal but for death on the field, each new generation joining the fight. But though the lines had been sharply drawn, there was one who walked both sides of the divide, welcomed by all, both righteous and malicious." Gathering over the rest, the figure of a wolf's head emerged from the smoke, its jaws parting and tongue lolling out. Embers, carefully lifted from the fire, gave if four red, glowing eyes, two placed right above the normal pair.
"Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf."
Manaran folded his hands behind his back. "With deception did the Dread Wolf draw all the Creators and the Void-Dwellers to a single battlefield, and with cunning and stolen magic did he devour them, tearing away from them their connection to the world, their ability to shape what lay before them. He sundered the worlds, and trapped all the others in the Beyond." Abruptly, all the figures vanished, smoke curling into the air. The wolf's eyes lingered a little longer before they faded, embers burning out.
"And from that time, we were alone." Khari blinked. This was usually the part where Barildal went off on some tangent about humans and how they'd robbed the remaining elves of their immortality or something, but Manaran refrained. Maybe because Rom was here? Either way, Khari didn't mind. The story was kind of better this way.
Senna wrinkled her nose. "I wish he'd told one of the happy stories."
Khari didn't think there were any, but she refrained from saying so.
Dissatisfaction gone faster than Vareth's smoke-figures, the little girl turned to Rom. "I've never seen tattoos like yours before. Does your clan do them differently? Which god are they for?"
"Uh." His thoughts obviously scrambled, and he shook the little girl's hand back and forth, maybe as a distraction. "Sylaise, actually. The Firekeeper? Not the most exciting choice, I know." Another thought occurred to him. "My clan is very strange, though, it's true. They lived far from here, and I got these marks just after I was born." He studied the girl a little. "What about you? Do you know what marks you'll get, when you grow up?"
Khari coughed, attempting to keep a relatively straight face. Senna didn't seem to notice, fortunately enough. "It's Hearthkeeper, silly. Not Firekeeper. Your clan must be really backwards. And how did you know what you wanted when you were a baby, anyhow?"
"Ah. Well." Rom obviously hadn't thought that through before he attempted the answer. He looked like he might've attempted some other kind of lie, but in the end just smiled gently. "My mother chose them for me. That's how my clan does it. A way of... forever tying the two together. Something that can't be erased, even if something might happen that... pulls the two of them apart." He blinked a couple times, swallowing, and then letting his eyes find the fire.
"I want Mythal's." Senna sounded decisive. "My mom had them. She protected the clan from danger. Everyone says she was a hero." Her voice fell. "I want her back, but Vareth says she has to help the gods now. So maybe if I'm good like her, I'll be able to help the gods someday, too. Like she is. And maybe we'll be tied together, too." She patted Rom's hand, leaning against his arm a little.
Khari sighed quietly, reaching forward to place a hand on Senna's head and ruffle her hair gently. “You will. But I'm sure she wants you to have a nice long life first, so you can tell her all about it when you see her again."
Senna nodded solemnly. "I know. When I see her, she's gonna be really proud of me. I'm gonna make sure."
Khari swallowed. Gonna make sure, huh? This little kid already knew something she didn't—what it was like to lose a parent. To really have no hope of seeing them again, unless maybe the stories about the gods or the Maker or someone were real. To have a whole life ahead of her without any of that. And here she was, with every opportunity to start making her own situation better, to at least try mending the damage everyone had done to each other. Hell, Rom didn't even have parents, or anything even remotely close.
She felt like a big idiot. Pulling in a deep breath, Khari closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. Her parents didn't understand her. That much was true. And some of the things they'd said and done over the years—her mother especially—were like Vareth said. Things Khari hadn't deserved. Things no child deserved. But... she knew she hadn't been an easy child, either. No one signed up for raising someone like her, even if they knew as well as any new parent could what they were getting into. And... she'd done the wrong thing, when she ran away. She knew that now.
Cracking her eyes open, Khari reached over to touch Rom's shoulder. She hesitated a moment, then spoke. “Can I... can I talk to you later? After it's dark. I need... I need to go talk to my parents. I've gotta... try this, one more time." She knew he'd be able to hear both the shame and the resolve weighing her tone down, even if she wasn't wearing them quite so much on her sleeve as usual. She felt suddenly like she had a thousand things to say and none at all. But even she knew that sometimes, things had to happen in a certain order.
And before she did anything else, she needed to lance the wound. Burn it clean, for everyone involved. No matter how much it was going to hurt.
Rom sniffed a little. His arm was around the girl's shoulder now, pulling him into his side somewhat. He looked over at Khari, his expression hard to read. It was a mix of a lot of things, though, that was for sure. "You want me to be there?"
She considered it. But ultimately, she shook her head. “It's... I think I have to do this myself. Just me and them. But... but I'll be able to, now." Because he was here at all. The words lingered on her tongue for just a moment, but she didn't say them. Not here, not now. Everything in the right order, or it might fall apart.
She cracked an uneasy smile. “Wish me luck?"
He returned it. "It'll be alright."