It was a perfect day. Even the hints of sky, peeking through the thick canopy of trees, was as blue as a robin's egg. A warm wind, light as a lover's caress, rippled through the forest, rustling the cluster of dark leaves with an airy dance that cast flickering shadows across the dark brown earth. Squirrels chattered exuberantly and birds sang happily, the wind carrying their songs to the Creators.

It was a perfect day. A day of life and peace. A day to remember all the good that could still be found.

But, to the young man leaning impatiently against the ancient oak tree, it was quickly becoming boring. Days like this made his legs twitch. He wanted to dart through the forest, chase after deer, or scare foxes. He didn't want to stand in one place for hours at a time.

With a restless sigh, he glanced down at the young woman digging in the damp earth. "So, how much longer are we going to be out here?"

The woman, Ashara, ignored the brusque tone, preferring instead to give all her attention to the large ginger root she was wrestling with. The stubborn thing refused to release its grip on the earth, and she was swiftly growing annoyed with it. She dug her fingers into the ground and scooped out handfuls of crumbling dirt, trying to loosen the root from its grip, but still it refused to budge. The more she tried to free it, the more she became convinced that this was becoming a battle of wills, and she was not about to be bested by a damn root.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she managed to free it enough to loosen its grip. When she pulled it out, she grinned smugly to see that the root was still whole. Sitting back on her heels and wiping the sweat from her brow, she looked at the young man watching her with impatience. She raised an eyebrow, a haughty expression that was an exact mimicry of the Keeper when her patience had been tested.

"We'll be out here until I have enough herbs to take back to the Keeper," she said, her tone making it evident she expected no arguments. "Besides, Tamlen, this would be much faster if you'd stop complaining and actually help me."

Tamlen let out a low chuckle, unable to keep a straight face at the familiar bickering the two of them engaged in, and held his hands up. "All right, I get it." He tapped his finger against the bark of the tree while Ashara went back to work–he still wouldn't offer to help; all these different plants were confusing to him–and watched as a bird whistled angrily at a chipmunk that got too close to its nest.

After a few minutes, in which the chipmunk harassed the bird by inching closer and closer, he let out a sigh. "Oh well. To be honest, I'd rather be out here with you anyway. There's no hunting today, and hahren Paivel's going on and on about the Long Walk. I don't really feel like listening to it again."

Ashara reached for the large pile of ginger roots she had been gathering and carefully put them in the herb box the Keeper had sent with her. She stood up, brushing the dirt from her hands before giving Tamlen a long look. "It's important to know our history," she scolded lightly. "You can't just ignore it."

"I do know our history, I just don't need to listen to it a thousand different times," he retorted with a scowl. The Elvhen history was nothing but stories of pain, defeat, and loss. Bitter slavery, stolen arts, and jealous shemlen who hated the Elvhen simply for existing. He knew their history well enough. He didn't need to be constantly reminded of why their people were forced to move from one camp to the next, never resting, never safe, never to have a permanent home.

Ashara watched his face for a moment and bit her thumbnail. She knew his views well enough, but the past wasn't something to run from, or push to the back of the mind. "We remember our past so that we know better than to let it happen again." She lifted the heavy box–filled with herbs, oils, and potions important to the Keeper–to her shoulder as the two of them walked further into the forest, searching for any useful herb to bring back to the Clan.

Tamlen shrugged, and the swirling vallaslin on his forehead twitched irritably. "Well, I suppose it worked. All of us know never to trust the word of a shemlen. They'll never get the upper-hand on us again."

Ashara tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of her lips twitched at the simple arrogance of his statement. Of course shemlen would never repeat their offenses. The Dalish were smarter now and, in Ashara's opinion, Tamlen was the best the Elvhenan had to offer. The finest hunter their Clan had ever had.

He caught her smiling at him and grinned, his foul humor disappearing quickly. "Do you want me to carry that for you?" he asked, pointing to the box perched on her shoulder. "That wood is heavy."

At once, her pleasant smile dissolved into an annoyed scowl. "Excuse me, but I'm quite capable of carrying this on my own. I'm not a da'len who needs the bigger children to help me."

"Only you would take that the wrong way, vulpasha. It was just an offer." Tamlen lifted his chin, pretending to offense. "I was trying to be the honorable hero, who helps the fair maiden with her burden."

A very unmaiden-like snort came from Ashara. But, just as she was about to make a retort, she spotted a large patch of mint scattered across the forest floor. Delighted at the find–the Keeper was running low on mint–she set the box on the ground and knelt down, smoothing the fabric of her leggings over he knees, before starting to pluck the stems.

Tamlen studied the herbs curiously. Much as Ashara tried to teach him, he had never been able to learn much about plants. He knew which ones were dangerous, and which ones were safe, which was all he needed to know. The rest–their properties, what they were used for–flew over his head. "What is that?"

"Black peppermint," Ashara said as she inspected each stalk for signs of decay or rot or any other imperfection, before laying each out in the sun to dry. "You can use it in teas to get rid of various aches and pains, and it helps keep rodents away. They don't like the smell." She held up a stalk to her nose; rodents may not like the scent of mint, but she certainly did. "Between this and the ginger, we'll have plenty of herbs to make sure you and Fenarel don't eat yourselves sick at tonight's evening meal."

"I do not eat myself sick," he instantly contradicted angrily, though with an air of laughter. It was a common joke among the Clan that he and Fenarel were always hungry, and looked for any excuse to eat. The Clan often laughed that the hunters had to bring back extra food just to compensate for what the two young men would eat. But, since they were both very skilled hunters who provided a lot for the Clan, the joking was good-natured teasing.

Tamlen sat down and leaned against a tree, knowing that they would probably be here for a while, or at least until Ashara had finally finished gathering all the herbs she needed. "Well, at least you know so much about healing herbs. The Clan already trusts you almost as much as the Keeper." His grin widened. "That's probably why she chose you as her First."

Ashara didn't bother to hide her proud smile as she continued with her work. It was refreshing change to be able to admit how pleased she was with herself. Around the Clan, she was expected to be modest about her position. If someone congratulated her, it was her duty to smile demurely and state that she was simply honored to serve the Elvhenan. It was considered improper to be too boastful or arrogant, especially for someone who would one day lead the Clan and set an example for the da'len.

But, when she was with Tamlen and away from the prying eyes of the Clan, she could be as proud as she wanted to be. And she was proud of herself. When Keeper Marethari passed–though please Falon'Din and Dirthamen let that not happen soon–Ashara would be the new Keeper, responsible for the Clan's welfare and safety. She would be set with the heavy task of keeping the Elvhen lore and history safe, of remembering their language, speaking to the Creators on the Clan's behalf, and passing on the memories of their past to the da'len, so that they never forgot who they were, or where they came from.

Ashara had worked her entire life to prove both her strength and the skill of her magic to the Keeper, so that she would be chosen as First above Merrill, the other mage of the Clan. The day of Ashara's entrance into adulthood, when Marethari had announced to the Clan that Ashara would be their new First, was the proudest day of her entire life.

But, it had come with a painful price.

Merrill still tried to show a pleased face to the Clan, but it was clear to them all that she was bitter about losing her chance to be First, and now the two girls would never again be friends. If Ashara was honest with herself, she would understand Merrill's feelings, and not blame her for her anger.

After all, since she wasn't chosen as First, Merrill would be sent to live with another Clan that had no mage, to ensure that the tradition of Keeper and First would continue. Mages among the Elvhenan were rare; if a Clan didn't have a mage, they would be given a mage from a different clan that had at least two.

Merrill, who was by nature shy and nervous, was terrified at the thought of leaving their Clan and being forced to live with a group of strangers. Although all of the Elvhenan were kin, Merrill still wouldn't know the Clan she would have to live with. For all she knew, the Clan might even be from another country.

Unfortunately, however, she only had another two years to adjust to the idea. At the next Arlathvhen, the meeting of all the Dalish Clans that occurred once every ten years, she would have to say farewell to everything she had ever known and join a Clan of strangers. Ashara acknowledged to herself that it wasn't an easy situation for the girl, but that didn't stop her from feeling grateful at how things had worked out.

Pushing back the absurd feelings of guilt–after all, it wasn't her fault that she had been chosen as First–she continued collecting as much mint as she could gather, unaware of Tamlen's gaze on her. He watched her work, studying the unconscious grace of her white arms, the way her long black hair tumbled over her shoulder, and felt a familiar wave of tenderness wash over him. For as much as they constantly bickered, he cared about her. And she for him.

Indeed, crouched over the mint as she was, she looked so small and vulnerable, but Tamlen knew it was only an illusion. That lithe frame was only a cover for a hot-headed stubbornness and a passionate need for movement that rivaled his own. Those foolish enough to equate her delicate looks with a quiet serenity soon learned their mistake, more often than not after a storm had been rung over their heads.

Ashara finally finished gathering the mint and carefully put the stalks in the Keeper's box. She sat back on her heels and, for the first time, noticed Tamlen watching her with a familiar glint in his blue eyes. The look made her want to grin, but instead she threw him a sly glance. "What are you staring at so intently?"

He cleared his throat and stood up swiftly, trying to keep the grin from playing across his handsome, tanned features. "Nothing at all." He shrugged and attempted to look casual, but Ashara knew better than to believe him.

She turned her face away so that he wouldn't her smile, while she closed the box and stood up, wiping the dirt from her hands and leggings. She knew Tamlen better than anyone else in the Clan, and knew exactly what he had been thinking about. But, it was fun to feign innocence; it was part of the delicious game they loved to play.

She'd pretend to confusion until he became flustered enough to simply react and pull her close. They both adored it. So, Ashara turned back to him, widening her eyes innocently. "Oh, well, if it's nothing, then we should continue further on into the forest."

Tamlen met her dark violet eyes and knew exactly what she was trying to do. He had intended to just laugh it off, and keep the game going, but his eyes drifted to the delicate arc of her pale lips. He swallowed and, unable to stop himself, reached out a hand to her and pulled her against him, pressing his mouth against hers while wrapping her in his arms.

That simple contact was enough to ignite desire in the both of them. Ashara backed away, pulling him with her until she felt herself pinned against the rough bark of a tree, with Tamlen pressing his body against hers in a way that made her shudder. She wove her long fingers through his bright hair, twisting the golden strands around as if to hold him in place while he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

After a time, she reluctantly pulled her head back. "I need to finish gathering the herbs," she mumbled.

Tamlen didn't release her. Instead, he pressed his mouth to her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Lie with me," he urged softly, running his hands lightly down her neck and collarbone.

She felt his need pressed against her and wanted nothing more than to agree, and lie with him then and there. To feel his weight pressing her against the soft earth and grass; to feel the light wind and warm sunlight on her bare skin. His hands drifting down her body made her want to melt like snow in the warmth, but she shook her head, even as she reveled in the feeling of his lips now traveling down her neck.

It took a lot of effort, but she gently pushed him away. "I can't. Not now." If she took too long to bring the herbs back, the Keeper would know exactly what it was that distracted her. And even Elgar'nan's vengeance would pale in comparison to the Keeper's displeasure.

With a reluctant groan, he slowly released her. "Then, come with me tonight, while everyone else is asleep."

The corners of her lips curved up as she met his burning eyes. "Maybe," she purred, "but only if you're nice to me."

Tamlen laughed and forced himself to step away from her before he could be tempted further. He watched as she picked up the Keeper's box of herbs, and the two continued their venture in search of more, each trying to distract themselves from the wild beating of their hearts.

He had known Ashara since they were both da'len, and had grown up with her and the others their age. Of course, all children were raised by both their parents and the Clan, but Ashara, Tamlen, and his sister Tianna had been something of a special case; the three orphans of the Clan. Because they lacked parents of their own, and had been adopted into other families, the three of them had grown close in their childhood.

But, as they had grown older, Tamlen began to realize that his feelings for Ashara ran deeper than mere friendship. He had been too nervous to say anything to her, but as the years crept by he found himself falling in love. Ashara was confident, intelligent, beautiful, and wild; what man wouldn't desire her? Yet, he always thought that she saw him as nothing more than a friend. As they grew older, she developed infatuations, like most of the girls, and he had watched with resentment and envy as other boys of the Clan tried to court her, especially after she was chosen as First. To bond with the next Keeper was an honor.

Tamlen, who had refused to chase after her with the other boys, had instead devoted his time to training, determined to prove himself as the Clan's greatest hunter. He had believed that he could catch her attention with his skill, and that she would come to see that he didn't just want her as the next Keeper, but as herself. But, after the tragedy of Tianna's death, he and Ashara had grown distant from one another, and he had given up all hope of ever repairing the damage.

It wasn't until Atisha'mamae, the festival day to honor Mythal, that Tamlen had found a reason to hope again. While the others were pairing up to dance and sing, Ashara had nervously approached him and asked if he would be her partner that night. During the festival, whether it was because of the hahrens' special drink or the intoxicating music, he told her how he felt. And, that night, he had learned that her feelings mirrored his own. He learned that she had thought he only saw her as a friend, that she had been jealous when other girls tried to catch his attention, and that she had been anxious when they had grown apart.

That had been two years ago, and they had been courting every since that night.

The Clan considered it to be quite a good match. Blood was important to the Elvhenan. They prided themselves on having the purest blood of all the Elvhen, and often boasted that their lines descended from the nobles of the Dales. Tamlen and Ashara both had a parent who could trace their ancestors back to the time of Arlathan. A child from the two of them would have some of the purest lineage of all the Clans; there was only a handful of children left amongst the Elvhenan who could claim such a thing.

Tamlen cleared his throat as they walked deeper into the forest, trying to think of something to say while ignoring the eager pulse of his body. He could wait until tonight to lie with her. He had held her before; remembering the feel of her soft body beneath his, the way her violet eyes had looked up at him... it was worth waiting for.

But, right now, he needed to think of something else. "So... uh, the Keeper said we might move soon."

Ashara nodded, desire quickly fading at his comment. Moving the Clan was always a source of concern for her. One day, she would be the one responsible for deciding when to move. Although the Clan had a general route they traveled, it was still a heavy burden.

"Yes, we're to go north within the next few weeks." She glanced up at him. "You know, if we had land of our own, this wouldn't be a problem. We wouldn't have to always look over our shoulders; we wouldn't be forced to hide from shemlen, to steal and struggle to survive. We could build a place like the Dales, only greater. A place to put down our roots, where we can regain our true selves and become like our ancestors."

Tamlen frowned at her words, which was a common topic among their people. The younger members of the Clans often speculated on when they would finally have a home of their own. The Dalish had been wandering for hundreds of years, ever since the Chantry led an Exalted March on the Dales, slaughtering every elf they could find. Every member of the Elvhenan knew why they had to constantly travel from camp to camp, but the nomadic lifestyle was hard on them all.

"You know what our history tells us, vulpasha. You know better than anyone; if we have land of our own, the shemlen will only try to take it away from us again."

"Yes, I know," Ashara sighed. "It's just a wish."

She knew–they all knew–that the shemlen hated the Elvhen with a passion, especially the Dalish. The Chantry claimed that the Dalish were heathens, who refused to believe in their absent Maker, and many devout Andrastrians saw it as their duty to preach to and convert said heathens. Despite the fact that the Dalish never stayed too long in one place, never had anything that the shemlen might want, they still looked for any reason to chase them away. In some cases, they tried to attack the Clans outright.

But, those of the Elvhenan had learned to endure their lives unflinchingly, refusing the succumb to shemlen rule. They chose to wander the land, struggling to preserve and rediscover their ancient history, trying to skirt away from any sign of trouble. It was hard on all of them, to focus on their survival and keep bitterness away. Some of the young hunters felt that they lived like cowards, stealing in the shadows, slinking away from fights. But, it was the only way to survive.

The alternative was far worse. The flat-ears, elves that lived within human walls, were treated like slaves. They knew nothing of the rich Elvhen history, and bowed to their shemlen masters like whipped dogs. They lived in plague-ridden homes, walled off from the rest of the world, and obeyed the ridiculous laws that never allowed them to rise above their poor surroundings. If they weren't killed by disease or from lack of food, their lives were often ended by beatings or murder. It was a pitiful life.

Ashara touched the vallaslin around her neck; the swirling tattoo of clusters of vines and leaves, meant to symbolize both her love for the Creators, and her status as an adult. It served to tell anyone she encountered that she was Dalish, one of the proud Elvhenan who would never bow to shemlen rule.

Yet, for all of their refusal to allow others near them, it had to be said that the Dalish lived hard lives. They were constantly moving, always looking over their shoulders to make sure they were safe, that they would survive to see another day.

"A Keeper is meant to think of what's best for the Clan," Ashara said thoughtfully. "I want to do something more for our people. I want to do something to remind them that we're not just wandering hopelessly. I want to give them a reason to believe in the future."

Tamlen studied her determined expression. He took great pride in his Dalish roots, and was convinced that one day the Dalish would reclaim the powers of their ancestors. Perhaps not in his lifetime, but maybe in his children's. "Do you have any idea of what to do?"

"Not yet," she admitted. "But, I'll find one."

oOo

With the setting of the sun came a restful period for the Dalish. The duties and tasks for the day were finished, and the Clan slowly began to prepare for a night of sleep. But, before they climbed into their aravels and tents for the night, they liked to sit up and talk, listen to stories, eat, and drink.

Ashara sat near the main fire, next to Merrill, as they listened to hahren Paivel relay the story of Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. It was an important story; a remind of why all of the Dalish must be wary, for danger could lurk around any corner. Ashara knew it was a good lesson for the da'len, but she still shuddered. Fen'Harel was a frightening creature; a powerful trickster who liked to cause chaos.

As usual, Merrill did everything she could to ignore Ashara, who still felt a slight pang at the snug. Once, the two of them had been good friends. As they were both training to be Firsts, they spent most of their days together, practicing their magic, memorizing their history and language, and preparing for the difficult life ahead of them. Merrill was extremely gifted at languages, but often came to Ashara for advice on magic, and the two women had helped one another to learn.

After Ashara had been chosen as the next Keeper, it all fell apart. Poor Merrill tried so hard to hide her resentment, but it had left a gulf between the two women. One that could never be healed.

"In ancient times, only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones. For, although he is kin to the Creators, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways and saw him as one of their own," Paivel recited with his back to the fire.

Ashara suddenly stood up, not wanting to hear the rest. She already knew the story by heart, and wouldn't learn anything new by hearing it again. Merrill threw her a sharp glance, but she ignored it and walked towards her aravel.

Merrill strongly believed that she and Ashara should always sit and listen to hahren Paivel at the evening fire, even if they had other obligations. She believed that they were setting a good example for the da'len, reminding them that even the adults still listened to the stories of their past. But, Ashara disagreed. The da'len were always fascinated to hear of the great Emerald Warriors; they listened with awe while Paivel described the stories of the Creators. He had a natural gift of bringing the past to life, and the children would sit around him eagerly, their large eyes round as they soaked up every word. Even Keeper Marethari would often read by the light of her own fire, or busy herself with some other task while the evening tales were told.

Ashara toyed around with the idea of going to speak with her, but before she could make up her mind she spotted Tamlen sitting away from the fires with his best friend and fellow hunter, Fenarel. Wondering what it was the two of them were doing, Ashara walked over to the two of them.

As usual, they were laughing about something or other, slapping their legs and wiping tears from their eyes. As she approached, they looked up at her, still chuckling.

"Aneth ara, lethallan," Fenarel said brightly, his face still red from laughter. "Getting tired of Merrill glaring at you?" It was well known that Merrill was still angry over her chance at being First of their Clan. Most of the Clan thought it was impolite to discuss the situation, but Fenarel was above such trivialities.

Ashara bit back a laugh and sat down next to Tamlen. "What are you two doing over here by yourselves?"

"It's easier to gossip away from the fires," Fenarel said. Tamlen passed him a look, and he shrugged. "All right, I get the hint." He glanced towards the fires and met the eyes of Meira, one of the female hunters. With a grin, he stood up. "I think I can find something to occupy my time." He winked at the two of them and bounced off towards the fires and Meira.

Ashara and Tamlen sat in silence for a time, before Tamlen set down his drink and gave Ashara a strange look. "Tasar approached me earlier and asked if I would take the honor of training for Chief Hunter." He spoke casually, but studied her reaction carefully out of the corner of his eyes.

Ashara gaped at him. "Really? That's wonderful, Tamlen!" Tasar was the current Chief Hunter, responsible for training the young hunters and ensuring that the Clan had enough food and supplies to survive the harsh Fereldan winters. It was well known that he had started searching for a Second to take command when he became hahren. The Clan had widely expected that Tamlen would take the position but there had been some doubt, for Tasar had trained a number of highly skilled hunters.

Tamlen suddenly grasped both of Ashara's hands, his blue eyes intense. "I want you to know that when I'm made Chief Hunter, I'm going to ask you to bond with me." He watched her violet eyes widen and felt his stomach twist into a knot of anxiety. He knew that she wanted to be with him, but asking such a thing still made him nervous. He had even debated on whether or not to keep it a secret, and ask her to bond with him after his ceremony. But, he decided that it would be better to let her know. He didn't want her to wonder anxiously if he would ask to bond with her or not.

Yet, he still refused to actually ask her until he was made Chief Hunter. When he held the title, he would be of equal status with the Keeper, good enough to be Ashara's mate. She might claim that it didn't matter to her; that he could be the worst hunter of the Clan and she would still love him, but it was important to him.

Ashara was grateful for the darkness, which hid her red face. "I... don't know what to say."

"You'd better say 'yes' when I ask you," he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Or else I might have to slip crickets in your aravel again."

"Oh yes, because that's the mature thing to do." She couldn't keep a straight face, and soon both of them had dissolved into laughter. Ashara wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Either way, you don't have to worry about it. Of course I'll say yes."

Translations:
hahren - elder; used as a term of respect
vallaslin - the Dalish tattoos; each represents a different Creators
da'len - child/children
Aneth ara - an informal greeting between friends
lethallan - friend/kinsman; used for female

A/N: First chapter, and we meet Ashara, the Dalish mage! I hope you enjoyed it. I've always been annoyed that Bioware took the easy way out and combined the elf and human mage origin b/c they didn't want to go down the route of the Dalish mage origin. So, I took it upon myself to create one. Also, before anyone comments on it, I'm aware that canon states that Merrill belongs to a different Clan from Mahariel's. But, I changed it to fit with the story. This fic will wind up being heavily AU.

Comments, suggestions are always greatly appreciated!