Lyna Mahariel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
virtanadhal) wrote2010-05-07 02:41 am
virtanadhal) wrote2010-05-07 02:41 am
{ Where I Belong }
Lyna
Dragon Age: Origins
627 words
The small elf woman stared at the elderly Keeper and the tall shemlen man. “Is the clan sending me away?”
“It breaks my heart to send you away,” the Keeper answered. “As it would to watch you die slowly from this sickness. This is your duty, and your salvation.”
“Then I accept this privilege, Duncan, if you'll have me,” the Dalish answered, bowing her head.
Duncan nodded. “I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us, but they have always served with distinction.”
Lyna frowned as the words played over and over again in her head. She felt out of place amongst the shemlen that flitted about in this camp and the messenger elves run ragged for menial tasks. Even the thief conscripted into the Gray Wardens had been surprised to see an armed elf. The quartermaster had even scolded her, demanding to know where his armor was. He’d apologized profusely and offered a sizable discount on his wears after she had taken out an arrow and held it to his throat for the insult.
“They’re everywhere!” Daveth cried out.
Lyna whipped her head around after her greatsword sliced through the torso of a darkspawn. Ser Jory stood with his back against Alistair’s, the two battling a group of darkspawn. Daveth had been cut off from them, his daggers useful but unable to keep up with the numerous creatures swarming him. The Dalish hurriedly sheathed her large sword on her back and removed the other weapon there—a bow given to her by Master Ilen. She fired three arrows in rapid succession, and one of the darkspawn attacking Daveth fell. He cut another down and turned to face a third. The fourth set its eyes on Lyna and advanced.
Before it could reach her—and before she could even ready another arrow—a sword severed its head from its body. Blood splashed on the silver armor of the Gray Warden Alistair.
She bowed her head in silent gratitude, too proud to verbalize her thanks. Lyna thought he understood.
The group sheathed their swords, and Alistair took the lead again, guiding them in their search for the Gray Warden scrolls.
Even with the promise of becoming a Gray Warden, Lyna felt out of place. Alistair, laughingly, had mentioned that the Gray Wardens rarely had women in their ranks. Ser Jory had told her that all the Ferelden Gray Wardens gathered for the battle tomorrow were human. Even Duncan had told her that the Dalish rarely stood as Gray Wardens. On all fronts, she was an outsider.
Yet she faced the same fate had she defied Duncan and stayed. Her illness would have slowly killed her—even now, she could feel an ache inside her, threatening to take the wind out of her every time she pulled her sword. Thankfully her bow did not tire her as much. Even without the illness, she knew they would have whispered about her. Whether they called her a “poor dear” for having lost Tamlen or whether they would have blamed her for Tamlen’s fate… She would have been talked about, and it would have been unbearable.
Instead, she joined an order of humans that few trusted. But at least they did not know her. They could not hold her past against her. Only Duncan knew her circumstances, and he would hold back much of it if he said anything at all.
“Incoming,” Alistair muttered.
Lyna heard the ground shift the next moment. She drew out her bow and pulled the string taut, an arrow in her hand. She aimed at the darkspawn rising from the ground and let an arrow fly.
Even if she had lost everything else, she had one comfort.
She could still fight.
Dragon Age: Origins
627 words
The small elf woman stared at the elderly Keeper and the tall shemlen man. “Is the clan sending me away?”
“It breaks my heart to send you away,” the Keeper answered. “As it would to watch you die slowly from this sickness. This is your duty, and your salvation.”
“Then I accept this privilege, Duncan, if you'll have me,” the Dalish answered, bowing her head.
Duncan nodded. “I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us, but they have always served with distinction.”
Lyna frowned as the words played over and over again in her head. She felt out of place amongst the shemlen that flitted about in this camp and the messenger elves run ragged for menial tasks. Even the thief conscripted into the Gray Wardens had been surprised to see an armed elf. The quartermaster had even scolded her, demanding to know where his armor was. He’d apologized profusely and offered a sizable discount on his wears after she had taken out an arrow and held it to his throat for the insult.
“They’re everywhere!” Daveth cried out.
Lyna whipped her head around after her greatsword sliced through the torso of a darkspawn. Ser Jory stood with his back against Alistair’s, the two battling a group of darkspawn. Daveth had been cut off from them, his daggers useful but unable to keep up with the numerous creatures swarming him. The Dalish hurriedly sheathed her large sword on her back and removed the other weapon there—a bow given to her by Master Ilen. She fired three arrows in rapid succession, and one of the darkspawn attacking Daveth fell. He cut another down and turned to face a third. The fourth set its eyes on Lyna and advanced.
Before it could reach her—and before she could even ready another arrow—a sword severed its head from its body. Blood splashed on the silver armor of the Gray Warden Alistair.
She bowed her head in silent gratitude, too proud to verbalize her thanks. Lyna thought he understood.
The group sheathed their swords, and Alistair took the lead again, guiding them in their search for the Gray Warden scrolls.
Even with the promise of becoming a Gray Warden, Lyna felt out of place. Alistair, laughingly, had mentioned that the Gray Wardens rarely had women in their ranks. Ser Jory had told her that all the Ferelden Gray Wardens gathered for the battle tomorrow were human. Even Duncan had told her that the Dalish rarely stood as Gray Wardens. On all fronts, she was an outsider.
Yet she faced the same fate had she defied Duncan and stayed. Her illness would have slowly killed her—even now, she could feel an ache inside her, threatening to take the wind out of her every time she pulled her sword. Thankfully her bow did not tire her as much. Even without the illness, she knew they would have whispered about her. Whether they called her a “poor dear” for having lost Tamlen or whether they would have blamed her for Tamlen’s fate… She would have been talked about, and it would have been unbearable.
Instead, she joined an order of humans that few trusted. But at least they did not know her. They could not hold her past against her. Only Duncan knew her circumstances, and he would hold back much of it if he said anything at all.
“Incoming,” Alistair muttered.
Lyna heard the ground shift the next moment. She drew out her bow and pulled the string taut, an arrow in her hand. She aimed at the darkspawn rising from the ground and let an arrow fly.
Even if she had lost everything else, she had one comfort.
She could still fight.