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They made camp nestled into a small cliff near a river. Their position was relatively defensible, enough so to give them peace of mind as they settled in for their first night in the Hinterlands. Amarië set her sheathed sword on a blanket, resting her heavy shield over it protectively before settling herself to the ground, groaning against the fatigue and rubbing the ache from her muscles. The sweet, earthy scent of dusk filled her lungs- the smell of cool damp settling on the tall grasses and thick wooded lands surrounding them. It smelled of home.
Her hands moved, working at the straps of her heavy armor. It had been a relief to obtain a decent set of armor before they left Haven. It had been hammered to the build of a human, but it had been of little difficulty for the blacksmith to alter it to fit her comfortably, and she wore it well. She was of small stature yet her years of training gave her the strength and stamina to carry the weight with ease. Her muscles were lean yet strong, with none of the bulk of a human warrior’s. She was small, unassuming, and always underestimated by her opponents.
Solas approached, lowering himself to the ground near her, watching but not disturbing as she unstrapped and removed the pieces of her armor methodically, meditatively. Her mind and muscles unwound as she unwound the soft leather that she wore under her armor to protect her soft flesh from the hard, unforgiving metal. She pulled the last piece away, setting it atop the rest in its neat pile next to her weapons.
She felt cleansed, the stress of the harsh day fading with the removal of each piece of her armor. She had settled a bit apart from the others, close enough to their fire to benefit from its light but not so close that heat and conversation would disturb her ritual. Liberated, she stretched her taught muscles and shook her hair from its knot, finally turning to the mage, smiling at him.
It was encouragement enough, he decided. “I was curious… It is rather unusual to see a Dalish wielding a sword, and more unusual still to see one with such skill as you possess. Tell me, how did you come to take up the art?”
Amarië barked a laugh. “Yes, my people are married to our bows, and daggers do well enough for close range. Some clans keep warriors, but that is often due to regular conflict with human settlements. Our clan never had a need. Our weapons were tools to help us hunt, keep ourselves fed, and keep us protected. When we’re stalking, hidden, through the forest that’s fine. Until, of course, it isn't.”
“I’m intrigued. Go on.”
She leaned back, stretching out on the ground, hands behind her head. “I was young, before I had received my vallaslin. My brother and I were tagging along with a small hunting party, collecting herbs and carrying what the hunters could not be burdened with. I had trained with a bow and my brother was just starting to develop his skill with magic, but we had fully trained hunters with us. I was unarmed and unafraid. My clan would protect me as they always had.
"We came across a bandit camp that had been torn apart. The hunters dispersed, giving no sign of danger. I began to pick through the remains for useful items.” She shrugged. “The sight of the dead bandits did not frighten me. They couldn't hurt us. I picked up a great wooden shield that was on the ground. I couldn't believe how heavy it was, but I managed to lift it so that I was completely hidden behind it. I turned to show my brother when I heard shouting and a strangled roar. Before I could react, something hit me with unbelievable force. It hit the shield I had been clinging to and knocked me back several feet. I was on my back, dazed but largely unhurt, and a bear was lunging at me. The hunters shot arrows at it, but the poor beast was beyond noticing.” She looked sad. “The bear was enraged. It had been attacked by the bandits, then by us when it got too close. It was hurt, but it was going to kill me. I was disoriented by the fall but I managed to grab a bandit’s shortsword that was in the dirt next to me and thrust it up as the bear came down. It pierced the bear’s throat and I rolled out of the way.” She swallowed. “I acted without thinking. It was a different feeling from hunting- sadder. The bear was just trying to protect itself, but so was I. I was alive, and I was alive because of a sword and shield. Weapons of war. The arrows of our hunters would not have saved me, neither would a dagger had I even been armed. I took this realization to the Keeper and begged permission to train with a sword and shield. She saw the potential, she saw that our lack of diversity crippled us, and she agreed.”
“Surely you did not train by yourself. Your clan brought in outside help?”
She nodded. “Yes, a human, actually. A former Chevalier. The Keeper sent four of us, myself and my brother included, to the Grand Tourney. We watched the proceedings, watched the men and their skills and their mannerisms. We found a human who was skilled and friendly and asked for his help.”
Solas shook his head in disbelief. “I cannot imagine a Dalish clan deliberately seeking help from human warriors.”
She frowned at his shallow opinion of her people and his quickness to judge her clan. “Our Keeper understands that our survival relies on us being friendly and known to the local villages. We trade with them and, though we live in the forest, we are known to them. They are less likely to attack us out of fear or misunderstanding.”
“That wisdom is uncommon, from what I have experienced with the Dalish.”
“Even so. The Chevalier actually lived with our clan for a time. I, along with a few others, trained with him every day until we could hold our own. I had become a valuable member of my clan, and having little reason to hide led me to friendly encounters that I otherwise would never have known. I sought out training opportunities and spent much more time among outsiders than most of my kind would. I loved the strength I gained with my training. I loved the skill I developed with a sword and the ability to protect.” She smiled shyly, her color rising, “I fancied myself like an Emerald Knight from the tales my mother used to tell me. I imagined I was bringing back a lost legacy to our people.”
Solas laughed. “An Emerald Knight! And would you have a wolf companion as well?”
She lit up. “Of course. Every proper warrior must fight with a wolf at her side.” She shook her head, suddenly embarrassed, refusing to meet Solas' amused gaze. “It’s absurd, of course. I was young and had big dreams.”
A smile that Amarië could not quite place played across Solas' face and he leaned back, turning his gaze from her. “Well, you are a proper warrior now. Perhaps we can find you that wolf.”