What Secrets Await

Chapter 26: The Secrets in the Ring

"Skyhold's archive room," said Solas. He offered nothing else in way of explanation, and moved to a dust-free stack of books on a corner of the desk.

"Here you are," he said, handing her a worn tome. "A Dictionary of Elvish for Common Tongues."

From his tone of voice he was not particularly happy with the book, but she was, and took it gladly. The cover was almost threadbare and bore a faded Circle emblem.

"Even in the present world, the oldest repertoire of elvish is from the Divine Age," he continued, shaking his head. "It's a pity that today's historians cannot perceive the true scope of the Ancient Elvhen realm."

She opened the book and flipped through pages. A musky odor drifted up from them, engulfing her nose. She wasn't sure she liked it.

Solas saw her sneer from the smell and chuckled. "I quite like the scent of old books," he said quietly. He certainly was in a good mood today. "May I ask why you wanted a dictionary so badly?"

"Not that badly," she protested. "Just curious, that's all. I don't know much elvish, but, I'm elven obviously, and well... I'd like to know more."

Her face blushed as her eyes fell on his smirking mouth, remembering what his luscious lips were doing last night.

He dropped the question and turned his attention downward. "Now, about your feet..."

He gestured that she sit in the one large chair in the room so she obeyed then handed him the wrappings that Eranan had originally given her. Solas sorted them briefly, feeling their thickness and elasticity, then knelt before her.

"It's been a while since I put these on someone else..." he said. "But I rather enjoy this tradition. It wasn't always a trend in elven culture."

As he drew her foot onto the perch of his knee she tried to not sway from the sense of déjà vu. The slipping of fabric over her ankles was far too sensational.

"So," she started awkwardly, "you were gone from Skyhold for quite a while. Ellana was worried you wouldn't come back. Where did you go?"

Solas's hands kept up the ministrations but his serene visage was gone. "I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be. It was empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there."

"What happens when a spirit dies?" she asked.

"It isn't the same for mortals. The energy of the spirit returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again."

"You're saying your friend might come back?"

"No, not really. A spirit's natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality and it would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew."

He finished her first leg and tied the knot with no small force.

"Abelas, hahren," said Maeva, sad for his pain.

"So you do know some elven tongue," he countered.

She smiled but he didn't see it as he lined up the other length of fabric to her second leg.

"My mother taught me some when I was very young. But, there are a lot of words I don't know, such as..." said Maeva while she flipped through the book.

"Era: Dream," she read aloud. "Noun, sometimes adverb. A dream, the state of dreaming. A world of dreams beyond the Veil. Source: pre-Divine Age pagan elven religion."