the Black Fox was known for nothing so much as he was known for friendship—for befriending his enemy, for forgiving his betrayer. And perhaps it was not the insult that moved you, but kindness toward your friend?
[ Test passed, she puts away that sparkle and lets her eyes just be normal eyes again. ]
Hmmm...I liked the story of Ghilan'nain and the First Halla, and anything to do with the Emerald Knights, though the one about Elandrin and Adelene was my favorite.
Ghilan'nain is Mother of the Halla, but before that she was Andruil's beloved. Andruil being Goddess of the Hunt, 'course.
[ A little wave to accentuate that 'course, because it's a given and she assumes Bastien will play along. ]
One day, while hunting in the forest, Ghilan'nain came across a hunter. At his feet lay a hawk, shot through the heart by an arrow. Ghilan'nain was filled with rage, for the hawk and the hare are creatures much loved by Andruil. Ghilan'nain demanded that the hunter make an offering to Andruil, in exchange for taking the life of one of her creatures. The hunter refused, and Ghilan'nain called upon the goddess to curse him, so that he could never again hunt and kill a living creature.
Ghilan'nain's curse took hold, and the hunter found that he was unable to hunt. His prey would dart out of sight and his arrows would fly astray. His friends and family began to mock him for his impotence, for what use is a hunter who cannot hunt? Ashamed, the hunter swore he would find Ghilan'nain and repay her for what she had done to him.
[ He's listening closely enough that he doesn't try to write at the same time, just eats more cheese, in a thoughtful and slow way. He's swallowed in time to say, during her pause, ]
[ No arguments there, the tip of Athessa's head says. ]
He found Ghilan'nain while she was out on a hunt with her sisters, and lured her away from them. He told her he'd learned his lesson and begged her to come with him, so she could teach him to make a proper offering to Andruil. Moved by his plea, Ghilan'nain followed the hunter, and when they were away from all of her sisters, the hunter turned on her. He blinded her, then bound her as one would bind a fresh kill from the hunt. But because he was cursed, the hunter could not kill her. Instead he left her for dead in the forest.
Ghilan'nain prayed to the gods for help. She prayed to Elgar'nan for vengeance, to Mother Mythal to protect her, but with all her heart she prayed to Andruil. Andruil sent her hares to Ghilan'nain and they chewed through the ropes that bound her, but Ghilan'nain was still wounded and blind, and couldn't find her way home. So Andruil turned her into a beautiful white deer, and Ghilan'nain found her way back to her sisters, and led them to the hunter, who was brought to justice.
[ For the ending, she adopts a wizened accent, like that of the elder of her clan: ]
Since then, the halla have guided our People, and have never led us astray, for they listen to the voice of Ghilan'nain.
[ He's a reactive listener—frowning at the deception, wincing at the blinding and binding, then transitioning into a melancholy sort of relief at the conclusion, before ultimately smiling at her old person act. ]
I like that. I'm glad she was rescued. But did she remain a halla forever? Do you think she was happy?
The way the Keeper always told it, she stayed a halla forever, and though Andruil still loved her, they could never be together. When we have to bury our dead, [ Which he should know, since he'll have to be witness to such things, ] we sacrifice a halla in Andruil's name so Ghilan'nain's spirit can guide our souls to the Beyond, and afterwards be reunited with her beloved.
[ He thinks about asking if that's what she intends to do when they go. Half with interest—how will she find one? Does she know how? And half with trepidation, because he's fond of animals, and watching one die for a ritual would be difficult.
But she wanted to talk about happy things, so he doesn't ask, and his face doesn't change in any way that would suggest he was considering it. ]
Do the Dalish have an—an afterwards? Like how the Chantry says someday the Maker will return and make everything perfect. Is there a time coming when they would be together forever?
[ Athessa herself is fond of animals, and though she's a decent hunter there is still a difference between killing for food and killing for ritual. Not that the halla will go to waste; she'll have to make sure that the animal doesn't suffer, and use ever part of it to honor its sacrifice.
But it's still nerve-wracking. What if she does it wrong? ]
Supposedly when we die, our spirits walk the paths in the Beyond until they reach the Eternal City, where they'll live forever among the gods and receive the answers to life's mysteries.
[ It's one of those things where the more you think about it, the less sense it makes. She laughs, rueful. ]
I wish I'd paid more attention to the stories the Keeper told us, now.
[ Redacting more line items on the papers in her lap is a perfect stalling tactic while she tries to work out how to word her fears in that respect. ]
Once or twice, but...I dunno. I always figured, best case scenario I'd get treated like a child because I don't have the tattoos. Or get turned away for the same reason I never wound up in the Alienage here. She's not one of ours.
[ If the best case scenarios bother her, she doesn't show it. This is bitterness that she's carried around long enough to be used to it. ]
[ She laughs, though the idea of being kept feels overly confining. ]
Maybe, if I can find another clan, and they can get past the lack of a vallaslin, and all the affronts to elfdom I'm guilty of, and don't require me to stay with them forever, or expect me to make elf babies.
[ Should be easy to find a clan that'll forgive all that, right? Piece of cake. Walk in the park. ]
[ He’s flexible. He’s also not serious. The real answer, right now, would be melancholy, and he doesn’t even think about it long enough to decide not to say it. He thinks around it, neatly as stepping over an uneven cobblestone. ]
—in need of a tutor for their eleven unruly children, each won over by a different song, until at the end of the line the widow-or-widower says, Bastien, we cannot imagine life without you here, please stay forever and read all of my books. And they kiss very well.
[ She purses her lips and hums thoughtfully. Her real answer would also be somewhat bleak, so what she comes up with is as much a fabrication as his. ]
Maybe after some aging noble takes a shine to me for my singing and my refreshing honesty, she'll leave me her estate and there'll be enough room for me and all my many petit amies without anyone feeling tied down or stifled.
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[ Momentously. ]
the Black Fox was known for nothing so much as he was known for friendship—for befriending his enemy, for forgiving his betrayer. And perhaps it was not the insult that moved you, but kindness toward your friend?
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Yes, exactly that, I was moved to show kindness because friendship is the most important thing in life.
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Then you have passed the third test. Two out of three. Not bad.
Guillory. I will find him, and I will make sure he is giving the Black Fox his due.
[ He won’t, of course. He has work to do. ]
The Dalish must have their heroes too. Was there a story you loved when you were small?
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Hmmm...I liked the story of Ghilan'nain and the First Halla, and anything to do with the Emerald Knights, though the one about Elandrin and Adelene was my favorite.
[ Those might be telling, but who knows. ]
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[ A little wave to accentuate that 'course, because it's a given and she assumes Bastien will play along. ]
One day, while hunting in the forest, Ghilan'nain came across a hunter. At his feet lay a hawk, shot through the heart by an arrow. Ghilan'nain was filled with rage, for the hawk and the hare are creatures much loved by Andruil. Ghilan'nain demanded that the hunter make an offering to Andruil, in exchange for taking the life of one of her creatures. The hunter refused, and Ghilan'nain called upon the goddess to curse him, so that he could never again hunt and kill a living creature.
Ghilan'nain's curse took hold, and the hunter found that he was unable to hunt. His prey would dart out of sight and his arrows would fly astray. His friends and family began to mock him for his impotence, for what use is a hunter who cannot hunt? Ashamed, the hunter swore he would find Ghilan'nain and repay her for what she had done to him.
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Men are terrible.
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He found Ghilan'nain while she was out on a hunt with her sisters, and lured her away from them. He told her he'd learned his lesson and begged her to come with him, so she could teach him to make a proper offering to Andruil. Moved by his plea, Ghilan'nain followed the hunter, and when they were away from all of her sisters, the hunter turned on her. He blinded her, then bound her as one would bind a fresh kill from the hunt. But because he was cursed, the hunter could not kill her. Instead he left her for dead in the forest.
Ghilan'nain prayed to the gods for help. She prayed to Elgar'nan for vengeance, to Mother Mythal to protect her, but with all her heart she prayed to Andruil. Andruil sent her hares to Ghilan'nain and they chewed through the ropes that bound her, but Ghilan'nain was still wounded and blind, and couldn't find her way home. So Andruil turned her into a beautiful white deer, and Ghilan'nain found her way back to her sisters, and led them to the hunter, who was brought to justice.
[ For the ending, she adopts a wizened accent, like that of the elder of her clan: ]
Since then, the halla have guided our People, and have never led us astray, for they listen to the voice of Ghilan'nain.
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I like that. I'm glad she was rescued. But did she remain a halla forever? Do you think she was happy?
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[ Athessa shrugs, gesturing with her pen. ]
There's a lot left to interpretation, though.
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But she wanted to talk about happy things, so he doesn't ask, and his face doesn't change in any way that would suggest he was considering it. ]
Do the Dalish have an—an afterwards? Like how the Chantry says someday the Maker will return and make everything perfect. Is there a time coming when they would be together forever?
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But it's still nerve-wracking. What if she does it wrong? ]
Supposedly when we die, our spirits walk the paths in the Beyond until they reach the Eternal City, where they'll live forever among the gods and receive the answers to life's mysteries.
[ It's one of those things where the more you think about it, the less sense it makes. She laughs, rueful. ]
I wish I'd paid more attention to the stories the Keeper told us, now.
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Once or twice, but...I dunno. I always figured, best case scenario I'd get treated like a child because I don't have the tattoos. Or get turned away for the same reason I never wound up in the Alienage here. She's not one of ours.
[ If the best case scenarios bother her, she doesn't show it. This is bitterness that she's carried around long enough to be used to it. ]
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[ A little bit of a joke. Athessa can be kept by whoever she’d like, obviously, if anyone at all. ]
But maybe someone could teach you?
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Maybe, if I can find another clan, and they can get past the lack of a vallaslin, and all the affronts to elfdom I'm guilty of, and don't require me to stay with them forever, or expect me to make elf babies.
[ Should be easy to find a clan that'll forgive all that, right? Piece of cake. Walk in the park. ]
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[ That’s what makes a good uncle, right? He wouldn’t know, he’s never had one. ]
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[ She shrugs again, unless that's too many shrugs in too little time in which case she doesn't. ]
I dunno if I'd be an amazing mother, though. Or if I even want babies. I'm definitely nowhere near ready to settle down.
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What would be the ideal settling-down scenario for you, Baz? If there is one.
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[ He’s flexible. He’s also not serious. The real answer, right now, would be melancholy, and he doesn’t even think about it long enough to decide not to say it. He thinks around it, neatly as stepping over an uneven cobblestone. ]
—in need of a tutor for their eleven unruly children, each won over by a different song, until at the end of the line the widow-or-widower says, Bastien, we cannot imagine life without you here, please stay forever and read all of my books. And they kiss very well.
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Athessa whistles appreciatively. ]
Eleven children? Sounds like this widow-widower does more than just kiss very well.
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Mmmmhm.
[ With an abbreviated eyebrow wiggle, just once up and down. ]
What about you?
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Maybe after some aging noble takes a shine to me for my singing and my refreshing honesty, she'll leave me her estate and there'll be enough room for me and all my many petit amies without anyone feeling tied down or stifled.
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Would there be a schedule posted outside your bedroom? Or a queue? First come, first served?
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