“We need to talk,” Morrigan announced as the group wandered around the Dalish camp. They would head into the forest soon enough to search for this Witherfang but they were asking around for supplies and more information before they did so.
“Alright,” Aunn agreed readily. Morrigan looked serious and so it was best to hear her out without delay. The last time Morrigan had wanted to speak with her it had been on the matter of Flemeth’s Grimoire locked in the Circle Tower and if she had put off being told about it then she likely would have just left the Grimoire where it was when she discovered it and would have had to have come back for it once Morrigan let her know she was looking for it…and that was if she’d even remembered exactly where she had discovered it.
Morrigan led her to a deserted area at the edge of the Dalish camp. “I have finally finished reading Flemeth’s Grimoire,” she began without preamble.
“That’s good, right?” Aunn asked rhetorically. “Did you learn anything interesting?”
Morrigan nodded slowly. “Indeed I did, and far more than I wanted to although less than I need to.”
“Cryptic,” Aunn remarked.
“By that, of course, I mean that while this Grimoire does contain some spells and rituals that I was not aware of, it is mostly a chronicle or Flemeth’s…of her other daughters,” Morrigan explained.
Aunn tilted her head. “I didn’t know that you had sisters. Your mother’s hut barely looked big enough for the two of you let alone anyone else.”
“I wasn’t aware that I wasn’t an only child either,” Morrigan said dryly. “But apparently I’m just the most recent of a long line of powerful, promising witches.”
“What happened to the others?” Aunn asked, getting the feeling that their fate – whatever it was – was what was upsetting Morrigan so.
“They were raised much as I was,” Morrigan replied. “In fact, the similarities between their training and mine are rather disturbing. I can so easily see myself as just another page in a book that some future daughter might stumble across. Flemeth raised them to be very powerful and then, when the time was right, she stole their bodies.”
Aunn blinked, unsure if she was hearing this correctly. “She did what? How could she steal someone else’s body?”
“Using magic, of course,” Morrigan said a little snidely. “In a way, it makes sense for how else could she hope to live for so long? Evan an abomination cannot freeze time forever. It seems her status as an abomination is how she’s able to pull off the body-stealing ritual so while there will never be an epidemic of body-snatchers that doesn’t help me any as my mother is an experienced one and I’m willing to bet that she has her sights set on me.”
“If that’s true,” Aunn said slowly, “then-”
“What do you mean if it’s true?” Morrigan demanded. “You do not trust my word?”
“I rarely trust anyone’s word,” Aunn told her. “And your information is supposedly coming from an ancient book that we know nothing about and none of us can read. I’m not saying that I believe you’re making this all up but the fact of the matter remains that you could tell us anything from the Grimoire being a detailed account of life in the Korcari Wilds or a freaking cooking book and we’d be none the wise…though some stories would be more plausible than others.”
“I can hardly prove that my mother’s plan is this,” Morrigan pointed out. “I suppose I could always teach you to read the language but that would take months, easily, and as I were the one teaching you I could sabotage your progress.”
“I’m really not looking to learn how to read a book of spells that I could never use or read about your predecessors,” Aunn said dryly. “What I want to know, though, is if that’s true then why would she risk sending you here with us? Alistair and I may act like we’re confident we can stop the Blight but, well, we’re not. I’m actually kind of surprised we’ve made it this far. When we left your mother our track record was even less impressive and it was only the three of us as we hadn’t even found Trian yet.”
“I…do not know why my mother was willing to risk me coming along,” Morrigan claimed although Aunn rather doubted that. “I suppose I should take it as a vote of confidence that she feels secure in letting me go on such a dangerous quest and expects me to come back alive? She says the Blight threatens even her and I’m inclined to believe that. If I do die it might be an acceptable sacrifice to her and she’ll just have another daughter to take my place as her next host. Granted, it would waste two decades or so to raise her new daughter but at least the Blight will be stopped so she’ll know that she has two decades to waste.”
“You don’t have to tell me why you’re here but I refuse to believe that you don’t know,” Aunn said quietly.
Morrigan frowned at her. “What do you mean? Why not?”
“Do you remember the guardian? He asked us all a question. He was right about what happened with me, he was right about Wynne’s apprentice Aneirin, he was right about Alistair’s heritage, about Sten’s men…he was pretty much right about all of us. He accused you of having an ulterior motive for being here although you cut him off before he could reveal it which certainly makes it sound like he knew what he was talking about,” Aunn answered.
Morrigan was quiet for a moment, clearly wondering what the best way to handle this would be. “Maybe I do have another reason to be here,” she said suddenly. “But I never claimed altruism as my motive. The Blight threatens me as well and I intend to see it stopped. That’s really all that matters, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure that I’d agree that that’s all that matters,” Aunn demurred. “But it certainly is the most important thing and I suppose I don’t need to know everything about the people I travel with. I am a little curious, though: you’re a rather private person, Morrigan, so why tell me about your newly discovered family problems?”
“Because I need you to kill Flemeth for me,” Morrigan said simply.
Aunn blinked. “Come again?”
“For the duration of the Blight, I have a reprieve as Flemeth needs me to be here helping you,” Morrigan reasoned. “If she had been planning on doing it herself she would have done this ritual before I left. As she didn’t, I can only assume she’s waiting until I return. I will not just wait around for her to decide that she wants to possess me and then do so. I need to take action and so I need you to kill her for me.”
“Why can’t you kill her?” Aunn inquired.
“If I’m on the spot when Flemeth is being attacked she may be able to do the ritual right then and take my body while you slay her old form,” Morrigan replied. “And she’s taught me virtually everything I know so it’s not like I would be all that useful against her in the first place.”
“And you think that I can kill her because?” Aunn wondered.
“While I haven’t spent much time out of the Wilds, you and the others are easily the most formidable fighting force I’ve ever encountered,” Morrigan informed her. “You, in particular, are very skilled though you seem to lack the sense to not just charge into battle.”
“Charging in is half the fun,” Aunn defended her battle choices.
“I’m sure,” Morrigan said doubtfully. Then again, as a mage it was hardly surprising that she didn’t see the appeal of being within easy reach of the enemy. Unless Aunn was planning on taking up archery – which was definitely the soft option when it came to warfare – then it wasn’t like she could used ranged attacks anyway so charging in had its uses. And, of course, it made things more exciting. “The point is, if anyone can do it it’s you and the others. My mother’s most formidable form that I’ve seen is a dragon very much like the one you killed back at Haven and as your Archdemon is supposed to be a dragon as well – albeit a larger, more dangerous one – you could really use the practice.”
“Killing a dragon would be good practice, that’s true,” Aunn mused. “On the other hand, killing a legendary abomination is no easy task and you’ve admitted you’re not in immediate danger. If we fall facing Flemeth then who is going to stop the Blight? A Grey Warden may or may not actually be the only one capable of killing an Archdemon but even if anyone could then we still have yet to successfully get the Dalish to agree to help us and we haven’t even tried to get Orzammar’s assistance and I just know that won’t be an easy task.”
“Aunn…” Morrigan said quietly, looking a little awkward. “This may be my only chance. I don’t know if I’m the only daughter who has ever found out what she was planning in advance but none of my sisters appear to have been able to stop Flemeth from taking them. All I want is the guarantee that she won’t be able to do that to me so I won’t have to live in fear until the day comes that she destroys me. I know that she saved you on top of the Tower and you might not feel right about ‘betraying’ her but killing her won’t be for good. It will just put her out of commission for awhile and give me a chance to prepare for when she returns seeking to steal my body.”
Aunn laughed; she couldn’t help it. At Morrigan’s glare, she quickly explained, “I’m not making light of your plight, I’m really not. I just can’t believe you really think that I would have a moral problem killing your mother if what you said is true just because she saved us. She didn’t do so out of altruism or because she really cared if we lived or died, she just needed a Warden or two to survive so we could deal with the Blight that she doesn’t want to devour everything and Alistair and I were nice and easy to reach up at the Tower.”
“So if you have no moral issue with it and, while you haven’t committed to believing me, know that it won’t be a permanent death will you help me?” Morrigan asked urgently.
“If I do go after her and ‘kill’ her and she comes back, would she hold a grudge and come after me?” Aunn demanded.
Morrigan thought about it briefly before shaking her head. “I do not believe so. When you go after her she’ll know that you’re acting on my behalf and won’t bother with you. She may come after me but at this point it seems like that’s inevitable no matter what I do.”
“Alright,” Aunn agreed reluctantly. “When we’re done with the Dalish we can go confront your mother.”
“While you’re there,” Morrigan continued casually, “her true Grimoire is in her hut. With that, I should be able to see more of her plans and gain more of her knowledge. With any luck, it will be enough to protect me when she finally comes after me.”
“I’ll bring back any book written in a language I don’t understand,” Aunn promised. She turned to go but Morrigan called her back.
“Aunn?” she said, now looking very awkward. “Thank you for doing this.”
Aunn could say something like ‘it’s nothing’ but as this very clearly wasn’t nothing that would be blatantly untrue and insulting besides. She could say ‘anyone would do it’ but given that the task was to slay Morrigan’s dragon-mother when she wasn’t even sure that Morrigan was being honest about the reason that was likely false as well. ‘That’s what friends are for’ was also out as while the pair were more-or-less friends Morrigan seemed the type to view that as a weakness and Aunn had never had a friend ask something so great of her before. “You’re welcome.”
With that, she went back to the rest of the group who were standing a few feet away from an ecstatically happy elven couple.
“That was easily one of the biggest wastes of time I’ve yet to partake in,” Shale was lamenting as Aunn got close enough to hear. “And I’ve recently wasted thirty years playing a statue.”
“I don’t even understand why we needed to get involved,” Zevran declared.
“I told you why!” Leliana insisted. “Cammen really loved her and it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t go into the forest to hunt-”
“Making excuses is not befitting of a warrior,” Sten interrupted.
“And Gheyna did say that he had trouble even before the forest became off-limits,” Alistair added.
“And Gheyna loved him, too, she was just worried about the future and I helped reassure her that it would be fine. They made the decision to bond of their own volition,” Leliana continued as if she hadn’t heard them.
“True,” Zevran conceded. “But the biggest reason they both gave was the fact that Cammen had not yet become a full hunter and thus he did not have his facial tattoos that signify adulthood in Dalish tribes. Gheyna said that she could not bond with a child but she also lacks the tattoos so she must, logically, also still be considered a child. That, my friends, is hypocrisy at its finest. It would be as if Gheyna were to refuse him for being an elf, completely ignoring the fact that she’s one as well.”
“I’m sure she had a perfectly good reason for that,” Wynne told him.
“If there was, I didn’t hear it,” Zevran countered. “But really, it’s no concern of mine.”
“We’re wasting time,” Sten complained.
“It might be amused to know that the failed hunter was just as awed by it as he was by me,” Shale said, sounding slightly amused. “Apparently he had thought that dwarves would be shorter.”
“Glad I missed it then. I do so hate being gawked at. At any rate, I’m back now so we can set off,” Aunn announced. “Did anyone find out anything of interest?”
“We talked to the clan storyteller,” Leliana informed her. Well, of course she would do that. “He…wasn’t very polite. He doesn’t like humans very much. We did learn that a band of hunters went out a few days ago and haven’t been seen since and that some suspect that the werewolves aren’t quite as mindless as Zathrian would have us believe.”
“He did seem oddly adamant about that point,” Alistair agreed. “I guess we’ll see for ourselves one way or another when we get into the forest.”
They all seemed pretty anxious to get going. It kind of made Aunn wonder just how bad the anti-human sentiment was here. She hadn’t had any problems but, then again, she was hardly human and the elves didn’t really seem to have anything against dwarves. The elf/human history was one she wasn’t at all familiar with – except that apparently it involved a lot of elven oppression at the hands of the humans – but maybe it was kind of like the situation between those with castes in Orzammar and those without…although from what she’d seen these elves weren’t quite as looked down upon. If nothing else, she had yet to hear anyone decry the elves as an abomination that never should have been born or, failing that, ought to have been mercy killed as a child, much less had that be a commonly held belief.
Aunn had never been in a forest before but after walking for an hour she had to conclude that she really wasn’t a fan. All the trees everywhere made everything look the same and so it was difficult to tell where she was going. She supposed that the same could be said of the Deep Roads but she’d been there plenty of times before and was better at navigating it. Not great at navigating it, of course, as her navigational skills were really subpar but none of that made her enjoy all the trees any more. In fact, after awhile looking at nothing but trees and the occasional bear got really, really dull. She couldn’t imagine how anyone could live here voluntarily although she knew that others thought it strange that she preferred to live underground. Alistair, as it happened, was quite convinced that the wonders of trees and the sky should convince her that the Surface was the place to be. Needless to say, she wasn’t convinced.
Leliana stopped suddenly. “Is that what I think it is?” she breathed, bending down to pick a flower in front of her.
Zevran peered over at her. “Ah, that would be Andraste’s Grace, no?”
Leliana peered over at him in surprise. “Well…yes. But how did you know that?”
“My dear, I am a man of many talents and a comprehensive knowledge of flowers is very useful in my profession,” Zevran said faux-modestly.
“Knowing about flowers is a useful part of being an assassin?” Alistair was having difficulty believing that.
“Only for the really good ones,” Zevran smirked.
“Andraste’s Grace…” Wynne repeated thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say that that was your mother’s favorite flower?”
Leliana nodded as she breathed in the scent of the flowers. “Indeed. It was the one thing that was familiar to me when I fled Orlais and came here.”
There was a noise and Aunn looked up to see three of what were presumably werewolves moving to stand before them.
“The Dalish send a dwarf, of all things, to put us in our place. They send a dwarf to make us pay for our attack,” their leader said, sounding a tad confused.
Aunn rolled her eyes. “With the way everyone is acting, you’d think I was an endangered species or something.”
“We were told that the werewolves were mindless,” Alistair spoke up.
“We are still beasts just as deadly and impulse-driven as ever but we are no longer simple and mindless. Let that thought chill your spine,” the leader told them smugly.
Aunn resisted the urge to shudder. This was very bad, indeed. She had no doubt that she and the others could take care of themselves but the idea of werewolves – she had heard tales even down in Orzammar but had never truly believed that they existed – that could deliberately harm if not appeased was a disturbing one. They had to be stopped. Still, the situation was clearly different than Zathrian had described and so it was best to try to get all the facts. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Swiftrunner,” Swiftrunner introduced. That name wasn’t particularly original but considering that their sentience appeared to be newfound perhaps it was to be expected. In more primitive societies names were just used to tell people apart and so long as there was only one Swiftrunner in the werewolf pack it would serve its purpose. “I lead my cursed brethren. I know not why you’ve come but I suspect that your purpose and mine are at odds. I give you one warning: go back to the Dalish and tell them that you failed. Continue and you will be dealt with.”
“I’ve yet to do anything to prove myself a threat,” Aunn told him. “Zathrian sent us into the forest to find some way of ending the threat his clan lives under.” It would probably be a bad idea to mention that he had suggested killing one of their own and taking her heart as a way to accomplish this. “He gave us faulty information, however, and so the more we know the more likely we are to make an informed decision.”
“So he has told you nothing then?” Swiftrunner laughed bitterly. “That’s hardly surprising. He wants to play the victim here and completely ignore his own part in all of this.”
“And that was?” Aunn prompted.
“Go and ask him if you’re so curious,” Swiftrunner said dismissively. “I don’t trust you and you couldn’t do anything if I did. Come, my brethren.” With that, he retreated into the forest with his fellow werewolves.
“I take it this is going to be a bit more complicated than just obtaining Witherfang’s heart,” Alistair said unnecessarily.
“I vote we don’t mention that part to them,” Aunn suggested. “Since that will just end up confirming their suspicions of us and we’re not automatically going to do that now that we’ve realized that things are more compacted. We need the facts before we can make an informed decision, after all.”
“It seems to me that Zathrian’s done something to them in the past,” Morrigan noted. “They seem angry at him in specific and not at the Dalish in general. He is a powerful mage that has been around for centuries and this curse has been around for years as well. Perhaps he had something to do with it?”
“It’s definitely a possibility,” Aunn agreed. “But let’s not go jumping to conclusions just yet.”
They continued walking for a few feet before they stumbled across a prone Dalish body.
“This is probably one of their hunters,” Aunn mused. “I’m hardly an expert on elven physiology but he looks bad.”
“Stand back, I can heal him,” Wynne announced. She knelt gently over the fallen hunter, placed a hand over him, and closed her eyes. After a moment, a soft blue light emanated from her hand and flowed over the elf on the ground. A few minutes passed and eventually the elf’s eyes fluttered open.
“I…what? Where am I? I’m still in the forest? And surrounded by shems?” the hunter asked, obviously confused.
“Indeed you are,” Wynne told him. “We’re here to help your clan. Were you part of their missing hunting party?”
“I must be,” the elf said, sitting up. “Are the others…?” he trailed off, clearly unsure of whether he wanted to hear the answer.
“I’m sorry,” Wynne told him. “You’re the only one we found.”
The hunter closed his eyes tightly. “It is a sad day indeed for the Dalish and we didn’t even find Witherfang. I should get back to my clan.”
“Do you need any help?” Wynne offered.
The elf shook his head as he struggled to his feet. “No, I should be fine. Thank you for healing me.”
“It was no trouble,” Wynne assured him.
The elf nodded and then turned and hobbled away. Aunn vaguely wondered if she ought to have someone accompany him back after all but he did insist that he’d be fine and he knew this forest better than any of them did so she’d have to trust that he would be.
After a lot more walking, they came upon a giant tree. As this was a large forest, that was hardly surprising. The fact that the tree was walking around was a bit more surprising. She had never heard of such a thing. Was that normal?
The tree heard their approach and turned to face them. He had something that looked strangely like a face high up on his trunk. “Hrrrrm... what manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?”
No one else seemed particularly inclined to talk to the tree so Aunn decided to step up. “I’m a dwarf.”
“ Ahhh, a child of the deeper stone. I should have heard it in thy tone. The woods have never been thy home, 'tis far beneath the earth you roam,” the tree recited.
Aunn blinked. Why was the tree spouting out poetry? And by the Ancestors wasn’t that a bad pun.
“This tree…rhymes? Really?” Morrigan couldn’t believe it.
“I could never manage to come up with rhymes for everything I wanted to say,” Alistair said, shaking his head. “I’d probably rarely speak at all if I had to do that…”
“On second thought, perhaps that’s a more useful idea than I had originally thought,” Morrigan quickly changed her mind.
Alistair made a face at her but said nothing.
“Allow me a moment to welcome thee,” the tree said graciously. “I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree. And unless thou thinkst it far too soon, might I ask of thee a boon?”
Aunn briefly considered asking the Grand Oak why he was rhyming but the rhymes were already beginning to get on her nerves and so perhaps it was for the best that she just accept that he did and move on. “What kind of boon?”
“I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire: as I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn,” the Grand Oak informed them. “All I have is my being, my seed. Without it I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out; yet I shall die if left without.”
“And you would like us to find it?” Aunn queried. “That sounds like it could take a great deal of time. Is there any reason we might be interested in doing so?” Normally she wouldn’t be so gauche as to openly ask for a reward – especially before doing something – but it was a talking tree looking for an acorn. There was really nothing of interest in this task and so she’d better be getting something out of it if she were willing to help scour the forest for an acorn thief.
“Hrrrrrm. My wooden skin has some magic, see, and part of it I can give to thee. The forest would see thee as a tree, and so no harm would come to thee,” the Grand Oak offered.
“So whatever harm the magical forest might mean us could be avoided…I need to pass through safely to go find the werewolves so that sounds like an excellent reward,” Aunn decided.
“Willst thou then perform the task? Willst thou save me as I ask?” the Grand Oak asked hopefully. Upon seeing Aunn’s nod, he continued, “Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can.”
“I’m just going to come right out and say that this is weird,” Alistair announced as the group walked away from the Grand Oak’s clearing.
“So it is,” Zevran agreed. “But also rather amusing.”
“Is that a werewolf?” Leliana asked, spotting a solitary creature standing hunched over. “It looks so sad…”
“Well it doesn’t appear to have spotted us yet and if we go over to it, chances are we’ll be forced to fight it and that will make it even more sad,” Aunn pointed out. “I suggest we just hurry past it.”
After making their way through a ridiculous amount of forest – and Aunn wasn’t quite sure that her companions knew as much about navigating through the trees as they said they did – the group finally made their way to a clearing where an old man stood hunched over and muttering to himself.
As they got closer, he turned to look at them, giggling madly. “Oh dear, oh dear! Not a werewolf and not a spirit, even, what are the woods coming to?”
“I don’t know,” Aunn replied. “You’re hardly a werewolf or a spirit yourself, are you?” He might, however, be an acorn thief. At any rate, it wasn’t like they had met anyone else so it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
To her surprise, the man began to bounce up and down on his heels. “Questions, questions, always questions! They say it was questions that made me mad; will it do the same for you? Ask a question and you'll get a question, but give an answer and you'll receive the same!”
“…Alright then. Would you like to go first?” Aunn asked him.
“May I?” the hermit asked slyly.
Aunn gave him a strange look. She’d never had to deal with anyone who was more that a little lyrium addled before and it was rather disconcerting. Still, he seemed harmless enough…for now. And as long as they didn’t provoke him into a fight it really wouldn’t matter how dangerous he could be. “I just said that.”
The hermit’s face scrunched up and he actually stomped his foot, reminding Aunn irresistibly of an overgrown grey-haired child. “NO!! That is not a question! And if it be an answer, it be an answer to a question I've not asked! Have you no sense for the rules? Come now! Will you play by the rules or not?”
“I will,” Aunn agreed with a sigh. Why wasn’t anyone else saying something? For some reason, they all appeared to be content to watch her deal with this madman. “Your question.”
“May I go first? Oh, yes, I think I might! Now... what shall be the first?” the mad hermit tapped his chin thoughtfully. One would have thought that he would have had a list of questions – or at least the first one – pre-prepared if he made everyone play his inane game. “Oh yes! What is your name?”
That was a reasonable question, she supposed. Had the conversation been less strange, she probably would have introduced herself anyway. “My name is Aunn Aeducan.”
The hermit let out another giggle. “A-ha! So you claim! They sent you, didn't they? But you're too tricky, and you're trying to fool me! Well, I'm onto you! Just so you know. But it is your turn to ask now. Ask! Ask away! I dare you!”
Aunn figured it was only polite to inquire after this man’s name in turn. “And your name is?”
“Winifred,” the hermit replied promptly.
“Your name is Winifred,” Aunn said flatly, careful not to pose it as a question.
The hermit nodded. “Absolutely. My turn now. Hmmm... where were you born?”
Aunn felt a brief flash of offense at the question before remembering that, for all he knew, she might have been born on the Surface – the horror – and so it really could be anywhere. Although why he cared was beyond her. “I was born in Orzammar.”
“Hmmm. So you say. Fiendishly clever of you to maintain this facade for so long,” the hermit complimented. What façade was he talking about? She had actually been honest with her two answers as they weren’t even remotely difficult questions. “But I will see through it yet! Mark my words!”
“Are you okay?” Aunn couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh, yes, perfectly fine,” the hermit insisted, his not-quite-right laughter telling a completely different story. “Let's see... do you have knowledge of the arcane arts?”
“…I’m a dwarf,” Aunn pointed out. As it was common knowledge that dwarves weren’t even remotely connected to the Fade and thus could not be mages, she had never actually expected to have been asked that question. Now she had been asked it twice. She really wondered about people sometimes.
“Oh, well, that's disappointing. But wait! What if you are lying?! A-ha! You thought to scamper away without suspicion, did you? Well I'm on to you!” the hermit declared.
“Do those three count as questions?” Aunn wondered.
“No as they were rhetorical and rhetorical questions were not meant to be answered,” the hermit clarified. “What is your relationship with your father?”
Aunn stiffened. As first glance, that sounded like a rather perverse question. He likely didn’t mean it that way, though. It probably would have been easier if he had so she could take offense at it. She was pointedly not thinking about her father and whether she would ever see him again or what their reunion could possibly be like. All she was sure of was that any reunion that she did have with him – or with Bhelen – wouldn’t be a pleasant one. She highly doubted she’d ever have a pleasant experience with either of them ever again and it wouldn’t even be entirely their fault. She had never been good at forgiveness, after all, and her refusal or perhaps inability to do so would always impede relations between them.
The hermit was still waiting for an answer.
“My father exiled me from Orzammar if you must know,” Aunn said evenly. She probably could have just made something up but Ancestors knew that someone in the eclectic group that she travelled with would probably speak up and protest her dishonestly thus causing problems. Or, failing that, they’d be sure to confront her on it later and she just wasn’t in the mood. She doubted she ever would be.
“Hmmmn. Interesting, most interesting. So that means that you did indeed have a father! Ha! I knew I would trip you up sooner or later!” the hermit crowed.
Aunn wasn’t quite sure how that tripped her up as everyone had a father, even if that connection was only biological and they had never met them. Either way, she was through messing around. “Do you have the Grand Oak’s acorn?”
The hermit started before a satisfied smile came over his face and he relaxed slightly. “Ahhhhhh... suddenly it all becomes clear. You here, that talking tree there, it all makes sense now. As a matter of fact, yes, I do have that tree's acorn. I stole it and it was easy. Silly tree should have locked it up tighter! If you want it, you'll have to trade me for it. And nothing from that silly tree... no leaves or branches or anything. Have you ever seen the Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux?”
“I’ve never heard of this Grand Cathedral,” Aunn admitted. She didn’t like admitting ignorance but the name sounded foreign and not even Ferelden foreign so chances were it wasn’t located in this country.
“Drat! I've always wondered what it looked like,” the hermit said, looking quite put out. “Oh, well, it was worth a question.”
“I’ve seen it,” Leliana spoke up. “Val Royeaux is the capital of Orlais and I’ve spent much time there. I didn’t spend much time near the Cathedral but it was very grand and majestic. The windows were simply beautiful…”
“Why did you take the acorn?” Aunn asked.
The hermit shrugged. “Oh, why not? And yes, that was another rhetorical question. The silly tree made it far too easy; I couldn’t resist. Hmmm. Have you... ever been in love?”
Aunn froze. “What kind of a question is that?” she asked quietly.
“The same as any other question,” the hermit said shortly. “I’ll be generous and not count that question against you. I repeat: have you been in love? It’s just a simple question.”
Due to this man’s madness, the fact he was clearly afraid of being persecuted even out here alone in a swamp, and the fact that he didn’t think ‘they’ had sent him when she revealed that she was, shockingly, not a mage, it stood to reason that the hermit was a mage himself, albeit one on the run from the Chantry. She wondered vaguely how he had managed to get rid of his phylactery but maybe he’d always been running and never had one. Jowan had managed to get rid of his, although she didn’t really know the details, so that was always another possibility. What was it with mages and their insistence that incredibly personal questions were so ‘simple’? Reflexively, she glared at Wynne who narrowed her eyes at her. Pointedly not thinking about a certain someone, she grudgingly replied, “Yes.”
“Oh? How boring,” the hermit replied. Aunn wondered what he’d find an ‘interesting’ answer to that question. “Maybe they didn't send you after all. That's a bit of a relief, isn't it?”
“Will you trade me for the acorn?” Aunn asked, hoping that they could wrap this up.
The hermit nodded amiably. “Let's see... I'll trade you an acorn provided you have something interesting in return. Oho! And what do you have to trade for the acorn?”
Aunn reached into her pack and pulled out the first thing she touched. “How about this silver ring?” she asked, hoping he would accept it so she wouldn’t have to spend time trying to figure out what he actually wanted. Chances were good that he would be most unhelpful.
“Eh?” the hermit asked, stepping forward to inspect the ring closely. “I once had a ring like that. This one's shiny, still. Yes, I'll take it. Give me that!” he snatched it from her hand and replaced it with a small acorn. There! Now that's done. What else have you got on your agenda, hmm?”
“I was just planning on leaving,” Aunn told him. “Goodbye.”
The hermit nodded sagely. “Oh, I see. You're going to report to them now, are you?” He crossed his arms petulantly. “Fine. Goodbye!”
“ ‘Twould appear that Mother was not the craziest creature to inhabit the wilderness after all…” Morrigan mused, looking severely disturbed at the prospect.
Aunn honestly couldn’t blame her.
The Grand Oak was as good as his word and gave them a branch of his which he promised would get them through some barrier further in the forest. The group then quickly took their leave of the rhyming tree and retraced their steps. When they passed by the hermit’s hut, he appeared not to notice them as he was rooting through a nearby stump. That was fine, though, since talking to him was a headache-inducing experience anyway.
To their great surprise, only a few yards away from the mad hermit they found an elf with Dalish facial markings and long, deep red hair meditating on the ground. He lazily opened one eye and, upon seeing the group, opened the other and got to his feet.
“Greetings,” he said pleasantly. “I must advise turning back as these woods aren’t the safest in the best of times and right now, past this point, they’re even more dangerous.”
“Because of the werewolves?” Aunn asked. “They’re kind of why we’re here. We do appreciate the warning, however.”
Wynne was standing shell-shocked, staring at the elf before them. Alistair nudged her and she blinked a few times as though she were trying to clear her vision. “Aneirin?” she finally breathed. So this was the errant apprentice she had spoken of? It would seem that Mithra was right and he wasn’t quite as dead as Wynne had believed.
The elf tilted his head. “I am called Aneirin, yes,” he confirmed, a little bemused. “But how would you? Have we met?”
“You don’t remember?” Wynne looked hurt.
Aneirin narrowed his eyes. “You do look a little familiar. I seem to recall your face…but younger, more impulsive, stern…” His eyes widened. “Could it be? Wynne?”
Wynne nodded reluctantly. “It is I. I’m so glad to see you! I thought that they had killed you. They certainly didn’t make use of your phylactery. You were only a child…”
“They nearly did,” Aneirin said grimly. “They ran me through and left me for dead. I suppose that convinced them that I was dead so they had no need to use my phylactery to make sure.”
Wynne closed her eyes, looking pained. “This was all my fault. I am so, so sorry. I failed you, Aneirin.”
“You could certainly have more understanding,” Aneirin said carefully. “And your impatience didn’t help matters any but it’s not fair to place the blame entirely on you. I didn’t belong in the Tower, Wynne. I never did and even had you been the perfect mentor it only would have delayed the inevitable.”
“I don’t believe that,” Wynne said stubbornly. “And even if it were true it would have been worth it if you weren’t only fourteen.”
“Perhaps,” Aneirin allowed. “But what’s done is done and this was all quite some time ago. No one knows what the future may bring and I’m happy here with the Dalish. I may not feel that I am one of them either, exactly, but they let me travel with them and see me as a clan member. My home will always be in the forest so travelling around at the edge of their camp suits the both of us perfectly.”
“I’m glad things worked out for you,” Wynne said sincerely. “You don’t have to feel that you are trapped like so many runaways are, though. The First Enchanter is still Irving and he is a reasonable man. He will find some way for you to return. The Circle needs you, Aneirin. It has to change if it wants to survive and you would bring new blood to enable it to do this.”
Aunn couldn’t believe it. Regardless of how Aneirin had tried to console Wynne, he hadn’t denied that her actions played a large part in his decision to flee the Circle and had nearly resulted in his death. He had said that he had never felt that he belonged there and even without her negativity he would have likely been miserable enough to escape at some later date. He had been skewered by the Templars on account of being ‘evil’ at fourteen which had to have been an incredibly traumatizing experience. His inability to adjust to life at the Circle pointed to a hard life beforehand as did his species and the human’ bizarre prejudice. He had finally achieved his dram of finding the Dalish. He was happy here. Wynne knew all of this and yet she wanted to take away his small, hard-won happiness and send him back to a place that had oppressed and nearly killed him. Not only that, but hadn’t Irving also told Wynne that the Circle needed her? And hadn’t Wynne chosen to ignore that and come along with their group making her not only appalling insensitive – even by Aunn’s Orzammar nobility standards – but also a blatant hypocrite? What in the world was wrong with her? If Aunn had been at all uncertain at her alienating Wynne, that doubt was gone now.
Aneirin glanced at her and, perhaps guessing what she was thinking, smiled gently at her and shook his head. “I have fond memories of Irving,” he said slowly. “He was always kind to me. He probably got closer to making me feel at home at the Circle than anyone else did. I will certainly consider your words and perhaps even speak to Irving about your proposal although, of course, I make no promises.”
Wynne smiled hopefully at him. “That’s all I can really ask.”
“I’m sure you have much to do,” Aneirin told them. “If you would like to catch up more later, Wynne, I’ll be either here or at the actual Dalish camp. For now, I’m sure you have much to do. You wouldn’t be looking for the werewolves if it weren’t important, I’m sure.”
“That’s a good idea,” Alistair agreed. “We should get going if we want to get this over with by nightfall.”
“If I could speak to you privately before you go?” Aneirin asked, addressing Aunn.
Aunn raised an eyebrow in surprise. “With me? Certainly.” She followed Aneirin to a spot a few feet away and outside the hearing range of the rest of her companions.
“Wynne means well,” Aneirin said without preamble. “She always has.”
“I never said otherwise,” Aunn said carefully, wondering where he was going with this.
“You did not,” Aneirin agreed. “But I saw your initial reaction to her suggestion that I return to the Circle.”
“To be fair, it was a pretty awful suggestion,” Aunn pointed out. “You were never happy there even before they tried to kill you, you’re happy here in the forest, and Wynne cheerfully ignored Irving telling her that she was needed at the Circle not too long ago in favor of going off gallivanting with me. Not to mention that if you did return they’d realize you were alive and if your phylactery was destroyed they’d make a new one. You wouldn’t be able to change your mind.”
Aneirin sighed heavily. “I know. Going back would be a horrible idea and I have no intention of doing so. Just the same, you know she wasn’t thinking about any of that. To her, mages belong in the Circle Tower. That I’m not ‘allowed’ to be there after my ‘mistake’ of running away is a great travesty for her. She honestly thinks I’ll be safer, happier…just overall better off in the Tower.”
“Anyone who paid any attention at all to your story would realize that that’s not the case,” Aunn replied.
“Wynne’s not looking at it objectively,” Aneirin told her. “To her, the Tower equals a place of safety and belonging. It is her home. It is not and never will be mine. She may know that but she doesn’t really get it. She wasn’t trying to be rude or hurt me by suggesting that I go to Irving. She honestly thinks that she’s helping. You can’t blame her for that and I’m free to ignore her advice.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Aunn conceded. “It’s still rather annoying.”
“You two don’t get on well, I take it?” Aneirin asked dryly.
“Not exactly,” Aunn agreed. “But I suppose that I do know that she means well and that makes it easier to tolerate the fact that I simply don’t like her. She’ll stay by us and do her part stopping the Blight regardless.”
“Ah, so you’re a Grey Warden then,” Aneirin said, deeply impressed. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I don’t know what fighting werewolves has to do with stopping darkspawn but I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
Aunn nodded goodbye to him and then went back to her companions.
Wynne was talking animatedly to Leliana and Alistair about how relieved she was that Aneirin was safe and how happy everyone would be once he was back at the Tower.
Aunn bit her tongue as they continued towards the werewolves lair. She really did mean well…
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