Melava- Time

The clearing beside the mountain that day was exceptionally warm. How unlike Ferelden, the young elf thought as she paced back and forth. It had been near over two years since the clan had moved north to escape the Blight. The Keeper had all intentions of returning once news had spread of the Archdemon's defeat, but as fate would have it, the Creators had different plans for the Sabrea clan.

Stranded without their Halla, the elves were forced to stay longer than they desired. Kirkwall was not a welcoming land. Especially for magic born elves. Despite the dangers, it had become apparent as time passed, that the Keeper had no intentions of leaving Kirkwall until her task was done. Though, not many knew what this mysterious task was.

Merrill sighed. She wanted to return to camp, but knew she had to remain at the foot of the mountain. Just as Marethari had instructed. Apparently, this was the day Merrill had been silently dreading, the day she was to leave her clan. Her family.

Not that they ever thought of me as much of a family member. More like a painfully useless burden…

She sighed and leaned against a nearby boulder. The day was quickly getting by, and no sign of the mystery being she was to escort. Not that Merrill had any idea what to expect of course, perhaps the person had passed while she wasn't paying attention?

Elgar'nan! What if I missed my chance!

No, she was sure none had passed. Positive, well…. Somewhat positive. Almost certain. Still, she silently panicked she would have to remain on Sundermount. Though she worried what her life would be like within the city walls, she knew there was no other choice. The ultimatum was too hard. She had to complete her quest, for the sake of her people.

And what if this mystery person refused to take her? What if it was an elf hating Shem? Or a slaver? Or Templar? What if Merrill was about to be thrown violently into a trap. No, Marethari would know better. Apparently, the Creators had played a part in who was to be sent, so said her Keeper. Only time would tell, Merrill thought.

She nervously played with the scarf draped snuggly around her slender neck. The fabric warn and faded, yet the elf never removed it. Not since that fateful day. It had been so long since she bade farewell to the only one she had ever truly felt connected with. Felt accepted among. And yet, it still pained her as if she had said goodbye that morning. So many things unsaid, so much she wanted to tell him…

No, she thought. There was still time. Perhaps, one day the Dalish Warden would return to his clan. And then, Merrill would be able to return as well. But, what if he didn't welcome her… after all she had done.

She had to try and push that thought aside, lest her tears get the better of her once more. It had been two years since Caldir Mahariel was forced to leave the Sabrae clan. Cursed and doomed to die, unless he became a fabled 'Grey Warden'. Merrill had been told stories of the Warden's, it sounded all too dangerous. The day the hunter left, the clan mourned his leaving as if the elf had already died.

Not Merrill though, she refused to say goodbye. He would come back, she knew he would. He had promised he would. The memory burned painfully in her mind.

…

"But the Keeper, she cured you…"

"Only for a time, Lethalan. The taint will eventually take me."

"I don't trust that, that… Shem. What if he is just trying to take you from us? To fight in his Shemlen war."

Caldir chuckled slightly at the smaller elf's use of the insulting title.

"Mythal, weren't you the one who lectured Tamlen and I on the use of the word? 'Shem is a misused term, they are called humans'. I believe you said." He grinned that same smug grin she had come to adore.

"Be serious, Lethalin! What if… what if…" tears began brimming her eyes. Sighing, Caldir placed a hand upon her small shoulders.

"Merrill… You know perfectly well, the Blight will affect us as much as any Shemlen…human, village. Keeper seems to trust him, and I must do as she wishes."

Merrill stared into the elven hunters dark green eyes, desperate to say what her heart longed. Desperate to keep the only part of her world that ever made any sense.

"Don't go…" she said through pained breath.

"I wish…" the elf ran his slender fingers through his short spiked mane. "In another life… I would have done anything to stay… But I cannot be what you need, Lethalan. I never could… I'm sorry… it is because of me that Tamlen is gone, it is because of me you will never be bonded." The hunter's voice cracked.

"It was never Tamlen I desired…"

Merrill cursed herself, her selfish nature always got the better of her when it came to Caldir. Hearing her words Caldir looked painfully to her, she instantly regretted her selfish needs. Their friends suspected death still fresh in their hearts.

"In another life…" Caldir cupped the young mages cheek, eyes locked on her. "Sahlin, Ma vhenan'ara…"

He gently stroked her cheek, her eyes begging for him to stay. A desperate plea she knew he could never answer. Without another word, Caldir removed the ragged cloth from around his neck, pulling and tugging clumsily at the green fabric. He was never that graceful, for an elf.

Holding it in his hands for one last time, he placed a kiss on the scarf. Then stepping forward, he wrapped it around the confused Merrill's elegant neck. She looked down at it, thumbing the corners of the fabric absentmindedly. It smelt heavenly of the young hunters scent; like morning dew on fresh grass.

She looked to him, eyes full of pain and confusion. Why did he do this? Give her the only thing the hunter had of his mother. What he held dearest to his heart.

"Sulevin?" was all she could mutter, unsure if he knew himself what he was promising.

"Ma'arlath…" he breathed, stepping closer. Merrill's eyes widened with each word and moment his body drew closer. "Emm'asha…"

Then, closing that small gap the two elves shared, Caldir did what neither dared all those years to do. He kissed the shy and somewhat bossy mage. There, away from prying and judging eyes, the hunter shared with the First a truth he had been dying to tell. How desperately he loved Merrill. Their kiss was sweet and attentive, unsure and clumsy. And yet, completely perfect. Innocent. A first kiss… which would be a last…

This, was the last time Merrill saw her brave hunter.

…

Merrill shook away the painful memory, two years ago and it still broke her heart. So many of the clan elders tried to help her grieve, many believed she was broken by the disappearance of her betrothed Tamlen. It was only Marethari who was the wiser. The young elf had always been so grateful to her Keeper for never pressing the subject. She often wondered if the wise elder had always known where Merrill's heart belonged. If so, why she never did anything about it? Just another mystery to the Keeper, Merrill was sure to never learn.

She sighed, thumbing her scarf, desperately clinging to smell a familiar scent. A scent long gone and replaced with her own. The only thing she had left of her beloved, and it no longer truly belonged to him. She wasn't even certain if he lived or not. No, she couldn't ponder that thought, not today. Not ever.

Slumping onto the ground as a wave of self-pity took over, Merrill felt a light jab to her side. Painfully, she winced at the prick. Blood had unintentionally been drawn. She could feel the slight stinging sensation, and the familiar rush she had come to crave. Such power her elven blood held.

Gently, trying hard not to jab herself further, Merrill pulled forth the item causing the pain. A small shard of a broken mirror. But no ordinary mirror glass. Oh no, something far more precious. Staring onto the shard, the elf remembered how lucky she was to spot it before Caldir insisted they left the dark cave. She had hidden it from her dearest one, for fear of his reaction.

A small slither of her blood had trickled onto the mirrors shard. The thick liquid seemed to somehow spring the magic within the mirrors reflection to life. For a brief moment, Merrill saw something. A startling thought, considering in the years she owned it, not once had she seen anything reflect within the glass. Despite doubting her sanity, there it was again. A flash of something. Light, colour, shapes.

Merrill cocked her head to the side, studying the light dance off the once dark shard. It was amazing to behold. How could people say blood magic was evil, if it created something so beautiful? Perhaps, this was just what she needed. She had only begun to understand the powers her blood held, it seemed this might have been the answer she needed.

"Is someone there?" Merrill heard a deep stern voice echo around the boulders.

The small framed elf jumped at the unfamiliar sound. Glancing over her shoulders, she noticed she was in fact not alone. Merrill tucked her precious shard away, making sure this time it wouldn't cut through fabric. Scrambling to her feet, she stared startled at the ones who approached her.

Three Shemlens, one male and two female, and a Durgen'len. The Dwarf carried a glorious crossbow, and seemed to smile widely at Merrill. The taller of the women, a broad soldier with fiery red hair stood towards the back dressed in fine armor with a stern look. The smaller and obviously younger of the woman smiled kindly, Merrill thought it was kindly anyway. Her long black hair flowed carelessly to her shoulders. She was roughly the elf's age, but was beyond stunning in appearance. Merrill couldn't help but compare herself. Feeling her heart fall at how plain she must appear.

"Oh… I didn't hear…" she barely spoke out, nervous over the stranger's sudden arrival.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Merrill was brought back to the present, she had completely forgotten the apparent leader of these travelers who was speaking with her.

A seemingly tall man, with golden hair combed back neatly, stood to the front of his companions. Dressed in black leather with furred armor, with two golden handled daggers sheathed on his back. Something about this man made Merrill feel extremely nervous, he seemed more dangerous than those he traveled with. Well-armed and no doubt a very experienced fighter.

The way he stood reminded her of the Shem grey Warden all those years ago, the one who stole her beloved. Something about both of them gave off a feeling of command. He stood proud and to attention, it was obvious this man was of military training. He was very intimidating. And yet, his face seemed gentle, kind and warm. Despite the worry line frozen above his brow.

His chiseled face held slight markings of previous fights, including a rather deep gash across his lips. A cleanly shaven face, prim and proper, like his combed hair. He was rather ruggedly handsome, for a Shem anyway. Not that Merrill was noticing that, rather she was growing even more nervous that this man would be accompanying her. His dark blue eyes twinkled as he studied Merrill's face. Merrill couldn't help but stare. He seemed to do the same.

It wasn't until the dwarf made a small cough, did Merrill realize what she was doing. Not the best way to make an impression.

Stay calm Merrill, speak clearly. Don't ramble. And don't call them Shem's, Fenarel said they don't like that… and stop staring, or do I keep staring? How do I greet them? Do we bow or something? No, bowing to a human is bad… apparently. It means different to humans… Creators Merrill say something! Oh, right.

"You must be the one the Keeper told me about, Aneth era." She smiled, deciding to go with a greeting she was comfortable with. Although, she was unsure if it was right. "I'm so sorry! I didn't ask your name… unless, it's not rude to ask a human their name is it? I'm Merrill… which you probably knew already… I'm rambling, sorry…"

Well done Merrill. By the Dread Wolf, this is harder than I thought…

The man did not seem to be insulted, in fact his small smile seemed to become genuine rather than forced. His eyes softened and his shoulders slumped, he seemed to ease up and become comfortable. Rather odd reaction, Merrill thought.

"You will have to work harder than that to offend me." He half laughed, a deep chuckle. "My names Hawke." The smaller female gave the man a sharp jab in the ribs. "Err…Jasper, Jasper Hawke."

What an odd sort of thing to do to your leader. Perhaps they are friends, and that is a friendly thing to do? I wonder why he said his first name so awkwardly. It is a rather nice one, I like it. It's pretty, for a human name. I have never heard it before, I wonder if it's a common human name. It suits him. Not that I think he's pretty… oh great now I'm staring again.

"Thank you." She said with a nervous smile. "I'm afraid, I'm not very experienced with your kind." The man, Hawke, err Jasper, nodded. This seemed to help ease Merrill's worries. "The Keeper said you are from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there, we only came north a few years ago… have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

Creators Merrill! Why are you pestering him?

"I miss the cold." The man cheekily grinned. "And the dirt. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me. But hey, no darkspawn." He shrugged casually.

What an odd thing to say. Is that a serious idea, or is he being sarcastic? Oh Creators, my luck I am to accompany a human that I cannot understand. Or perhaps he was being serious, in that case Ferelden wasn't that bad… oh right, he can't hear me.

"Ferelden wasn't that brown." Merrill defended. "The dirt and muck gave it character…." Merrill seemed to suddenly get lost in the deep sea eyes of the man she was discussing the texture of earth with. Stupid, she thought. "Uh, we should go. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."

The sooner we get this ritual over with, the sooner I can continue my task. Hopefully, this man will be what the Keeper said he would be. The key to all my answers. I can't quite see him answering many questions, unless they are funny ones. He seems rather funny, or maybe he is being serious. I think he's funny. Not in a bad way, of course.

Translations:

Elgar'nan: spirit of vengeance, sometimes used as a curse word
Shem/Shemlen: insulting word for human, but translates properly into 'quick children'
Lethalan: term for close female friend
Lethalin: term for close male friend
Mythal: One of their Creator God's
Sahlin, Ma vhenan'ara: Now, in this moment, my heart's desire
Sulevin?: certain?
Ma'arlath: I love you
Emm'asha: my girl
Durgen'len: children of the stone; dwarf
Aneth era: a friendly greeting
Asha'bellanar: 'Woman of many years' Dalish name for Flemeth