Written for LJ's dao_challenge Lightning Round, subject: "elves."

Dragon Age belongs to BioWare. These two guys, however, are mine. Mine, do you hear! Mwahaha!

Observations on Elves

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From the vantage of their hilltop guard post, the two militiamen gazed idly down at the Warden's army encampment where a multitude of fires beat back the encroaching twilight. Bunworth shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

"They look like, what do you call 'em..."

"Bees?"

"I was going to say stars, Flannel, but they do indeed swarm like bees."

"Ah." Flannel nodded repeatedly as he did when processing information, not by dipping his chin but holding his head still and moving his entire neck back and forth. It always put Bunworth in mind of that toy stork he gave his little niece, with the head on a, what do you call it, pivot, so it could dip up and down over a cup of water. Only with a shorter neck. And usually something stronger than water in the cup.

"Bunworth?"

"Flannel."

"These tattooed folk, the Daleks-"

"Dalish."

"What?"

"They're called Dalish."

"Yes?"

"You said 'Daleks.' That's not even a real word."

"Ah." Nod. Nod. Nod. Bunworth observed with bemusement his friend was inadvertently nodding in time to the chorus of crickets.

"So, Bunworth, these, er..."

"Dalish."

"Yes. They can't really be elves, can they?"

"Why ever not?"

"Well, they don't act like real elves at all, do they? Elves look at the ground all hunched over, and don't know how to fight, and so meek they flinch if you sneeze too loudly. These, er-"

"Dalish."

"Yes. They're armed to the teeth and no question they can use their weapons. They stare you right in the eye until you look away, they do, like the lords of all they see. And the way they dress!"

A moment of silence passed in homage to the Dalish manner of dress.

"Flannel."

"Bunworth?"

"I expect you picked up the solution."

"Yes?"

"Recall how our nobility conduct themselves. I expect the Dalish are the elven nobility, and the ones in our cities are the commoners."

"Ah." Nod. Nod. Nod. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. "Bunworth?"

"Flannel."

"Don't nobles live in cities and commoners in the wilds?"

Bunworth opened his mouth to respond, and paused, furrowing his brow. There was a problem with the logic, he was certain, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Considering, he tipped his helm over one ear and scratched his scalp thoughtfully.

"In the wilds...I believe I understand it now, Flannel."

"Yes?"

"Recall wolves and dogs. They look similar, and indeed one might mistake one for the other. However, the wolf lives in the wilds, and a proud, vicious creature it is. Conversely, the dog lives in the city and village, and is obedient and friend to all. I daresay these Dalish are the wild variety, and our city elves are, what do you call it, domesticated." He resettled his helmet in satisfaction.

"Ah." Nod. Nod. Nod.

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

"Bunworth?"

"Flannel."

"I had a cousin."

"Well done."

"Or rather, my mother's brother-in-law's cousin thrice removed. More of an acquaintance, really."

"Again, well done."

"A right evil sod, he was."

"Language, Flannel."

"Sorry, Bunworth."

"Carry on."

"He had a pair of Frostback Mountain dogs, you know, the ones that are so good with the kiddies?"

"Indeed I do."

"Well, he treated them something dreadful; beat them, starved them... got so they'd run to the other side of the yard and cower whenever he went near them." Bunworth shook his head.

"Tch, tch. A bad business, that."

"One day a neighbor found him. I mean to say, found what was left of him. The dogs had turned on him and ripped him up so his own mum wouldn't have known him. Mind you, that's if she were still speaking to him."

"A cautionary tale, Flannel."

"So, Bunworth..."

"Flannel?"

"If the, er..."

"Dalish."

"Yes. If they're the wolves, and the city elves are the dogs..."

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

"Hmm."

"Hmm."