"Are you sure this is Redcliffe, Eloriel?" Leliana asked with her singsongy voice. The group had just reached the cliff to a village by a river, or a lake, Eloriel couldn't tell.
"Yeah, do you doubt my navigation skills?" Eloriel questioned with a smile.
"Well, you did take off into a barely explored part of the woods," Morrigan said, scowling.
"Alistair, you've been to Redcliffe before. Is this it?" Eloriel asked, ignoring Morrigan.
"Oh, um, yeah. How'd we get here so quick?"
"My amazing navigation skills," Eloriel said, puffing her chest in pride.
"More like her luck," Morrigan said.
"She was blundering around the woods, hoping for a way out," Sten added in continuous monotone.
"Damn it, Sten! How'd you know?" Eloriel asked sarcastically, elbowing the Qunari.
"Because it was painstakingly obvious."
"I was joking.... You really know how to drag me down, don't 'cha?"
"You are easily bendable, weak, and emotional," Sten informed her.
"Dread Wolf take you," she mumbled under her breath. Eloriel sighed as she turned back to the village. "So, what? We go to this...Arl? Arl Eamon? What do we ask? Who do we ask if he's still sick? Will he, or whoever is in charge..." she then paused, looking at Alistair, whose face fell at her choice in words, like the Arl's death was set in stone. "Temporarily in charge, aid us?" She looked at Alistair again who was lightly smiling at her consideration, but still something in his face, she'd noticed this ever since they arrived, but something, concern? Guilt? Something was bothering him, sos thing he wanted to say, but didn't.
What's wrong with Alistair?
She had thought that he was over (as one could be) Duncan's death. Eloriel herself had already stopped having nightmares of Tamlen, she had even stopped crying when she was alone. This of course, felt strange to the Dalish elf. She knew what it was like before, losing someone, losing people. Before she was even past three years she had lost someone, then another, then a whole group she had known vanished a month before she met Tamlen.
I guess I've just grown used to it, accepted it as a part of life. I have realized that to grief would waste my own time, and so my own life. This is how I survive.
"Eloriel, the dog is whining again," Morrigan huffed.
Eloriel looked down at Tamlasan, who was indeed whining for her attention, and petted him. Afterwards he immediately took off running away.
I thought I was good with animals!
Eloriel slumped forward, much like how Alistair was and released a large sigh. She looked at Morrigan who had been staring at her ever since the dog bolted.
"You know I was talking about that one?" she questioned.
"When talking about Alistair you tend to say mutt. Tamlasan is called dog, like just now," she explained.
"Well it took you long enough."
"Haha, guess you're right."
"As usual."
Eloriel jumped up, squealing. Morrigan looked at the woman as if she were a psycho. Still squealing, Eloriel hugged Morrigan, now getting the whole groups attention. Leliana giggled with confusion as Sten just turned his back to her, not wanting to be associated with the elf. Alistair just stood, dumbfounded, but a smile tugging at his frown.
"What in damnation are you doing?!" Morrigan shrieked, pulling away from Eloriel.
"As usual! You said as usual!" Eloriel chanted. Now everyone thought Eloriel was a psycho.
"What is wrong with saying usually?" Morrigan asked, not understanding why Eloriel felt so accomplished that she had said usually.
"Think about it, Morrigan, what does usually mean?"
Morrigan looked up as if the answer was in the sky. It only took three seconds before she paled.
"Typically...it means typically," Alistair spoke up, a grin on his face. "Morrigan just proved herself that she's not all knowing!" He fist pumped the air and Eloriel grinned. He turned to Eloriel. "Maker, you're so brilliant that I could just kiss you!"
Silence.
Morrigan looked at Eloriel's shocked face and snickered as Alistair looked around the group in panic.
"I didn't actually mean it people!" Alistair cried in defense as his face turned pink. "Maker, why are you all so assuming?"
"Thank the creators," Eloriel sighed. She had actually believed he meant it. She had no idea that this was some sort of human expression of something.
"Oh, wow. Thanks a lot," Alistair mumbled under his breath. He turned away from Eloriel and pouted, folding his arms.
Just then a man came running up to them. Eloriel already knew that there was trouble. The panic in his eyes, the heavy breathing of urgency, pale as if terror had just knocked him in the face.
Please tell me that he isn't asking us for help.
"Thank the Maker! Someone has finally come to help!" the man cried with relief.
Greeaaat.
"What's wrong?" Alistair asked with a note of concern. Eloriel looked at him and her thoughts clicked. Why he wanted to go see the Arl and ask for help made so much sense. She knew now why he was so concerned just then.
He lives here! Or lived there. Something like that.
Alistair turned to Eloriel, his eyes pleading. "We can help them, can't we?"
Damn those sad eyes!
"Uh, yeah, sure," she said, shrugging.
"Thank you, Eloriel."
Why does a shem sound so sincere?
"Hey, it's no big deal."
Morrigan just scowled, hers arms folded. "Saving a village from the dead men rising from the castle is no big deal? Well, I can just tell I'm going to just love it here."
"That's the spirit!" Eloriel exclaimed, patting her on the shoulder before taking off to Recliffe.
When did I miss the dead men part? Creators, since when were there dead men strolling through the shemlens' villages?
"Wait!" Alistair called to Eloriel, he reached out and managed to grab her how stopping her and landing her into the ground.
"Maker, I didn't mean it!" Alistair cried out in panic.
Damned shemlens.
"Here," he said, holding his hand out.
"Why are we greeting each other again?" Eloriel questioned.
"No, no, this isn't a greeting," he then paused, tilting his head. "You actually believed that?"
"Then what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to help you."
Shemlens and- wait...he, a shemlen, wanted to help me, an elf, a dalish elf?
Eloriel looked at him warily and shook her head. "You want to throw me off the cliff."
"MAKER NO!" he shouted. "What on earth are you saying?"
"That you're a shemlen."
"Oh yes, because that wasn't obvious. But no, I promise that that's not going to happen, I just want to talk to you." He held his hand to her again. "Trust me?"
Eloriel sighed as she grabbed onto his hand and he lifted her up.
"You know I can get up on my own," she stated, now smiling.
"But it's the nice thing to do."
"Since when are shems all about kindness?"
"To be honest, not many." He then shook his head. "Back on topic, I need to tell you something that may or may not be important." He then started kicking up dirt with his boot and rubbed his wrists.
"'May not'? I'm sure that your actions say otherwise." Eloriel rubbed her forehead. "Come on, Alistair, I trusted you, now it's your turn to trust me. Unless, of course, I'm not good enough to for that."
"Maker, you are very assuming."
"I know. Now are you going to spit it out or not?"
"Okay, okay. I'm actually a bastard prince of King Maric."
Huh?!