Samahlen

Yule

The boat creaked slightly as it pulled across Lake Calenhad.  Wraith looked at the young Templar who was manning the oars, and wondered if all shemlen were so obstinate.  It had taken all of Wraith's rapidly ebbing patience not to draw his weapons and order the stubborn fool to take him to the Circle of Magi.  Only the gentle pressure of Alistair's hand on his shoulder had restrained him, and so the hunter had only sighed and tried once again until he had persuaded Carroll to row them across the lake.

Now Wraith looked up at the tower as it loomed over the lake, faint lights glittering across the black water as they neared.  The very stillness of the night, broken only by the sound of the oars, felt ominous to the elf.   For all Carroll's rowing, they seemed to get no closer, and Wraith shifted irritably on the wooden bench.  Alistair was sitting beside him, and the rest of his party talked in quiet murmurs from the bench behind the hunter.

"What do you think is going on at the Tower?" Alistair asked, his voice hushed as though he too feared to disturb whatever awaited them.

Wraith looked at him for a long moment.  "I have no idea.  The ways of the shemlen are often difficult for me to fathom." 

"Ouch," Alistair replied, grinning to show that he had not taken offense.  "I'm wounded, truly."  His grin faded as he looked back at the tower.  "But seriously, this must be something truly bad for the Knight-Commander to lock down the tower."

"We won't know anything until we get there, and can speak to this Knight-Commander," Wraith pointed out.  He took a deep breath, feeling the slight chill in the air.  Further south, the snows had probably arrived by now.  The hunter sighed.  The solstice was approaching, and he would miss the traditions of his clan, the rituals that bound them as a people to their history.

"Is everything alright?" Alistair asked.  The concern in his voice made Wraith smile.

"It's nothing, really.  I was thinking that it's nearly the solstice."  Wraith looked over at the human.

Alistair looked thoughtful for a moment, and then pointed south across the lake, away from the tower.  "If you cross Lake Calenhad that way, for about a day, you'll come to Redcliffe.  I was raised there until I was sent to be trained as a Templar.  Did I ever tell you that?  My mother was a serving girl in the castle.  We used to celebrate First Day with a huge bonfire, and there would be a feast in Redcliffe Castle.  The hearth in the great hall would have this enormous Yule log that would burn all night."  Alistair's expression had softened and grown almost wistful as he spoke.  "I missed that when I was sent to the Chantry, maybe more than anything else."

Wraith watched his human friend for a moment, still with a small smile.  "We celebrate the solstice."  His smile widened as Alistair looked at him, curious.  "On the day of the solstice, the hunters gather a great pile of wood, and we construct a bonfire.  At dusk, we watch as the Keeper lights the bonfire from the sacred hearthfire she carries in her aravel.  It is said to be a spark of the first fire given to us by Sylaise, and how it remains lit is one of the old magics known only to the Keepers of the clans."  Wraith paused, his smile widening.  "We keep a vigil throughout the longest night, and wait to greet the sun on his return.  Hahren Paivel would tell the old stories of our people, and we would sing of Elgar'nan, the All-Father, he who was born of the sun and the land."

"That sounds like a wonderful celebration," Alistair said, his delight in the tale apparent even in the gloom.  "Can you tell me more?"

Wraith nodded.  "I'm not as good as Hahren Paivel, but I'll try.  The land brought forth life to please Elgar'nan, and he took pleasure in her gifts.  The sun was jealous, thinking that Elgar'nan favored his mother the land, and so the sun burned the land, and turned all things to ashes, and the land wept.  Elgar'nan was angered and fought his father the sun, and cast him into an abyss.  But without the sun, the land could not bring forth new life.  It was Mythal, she whom we call the Protector, who convinced Elgar'nan to allow the sun to return.  Elgar'nan made the sun swear to be gentle, and so he has been, all these many years."  Wraith pointed up.  "The stars are said to be the drops of the sun's blood from that battle."

"That's beautiful," Alistair murmured.  "Is there more?"

Wraith laughed.  "You are like one of the da'len, the children, eager for stories.  I was the same way."

"I like learning about you," Alistair replied, and there was such an open look in his eyes that Wraith nearly looked away.  He felt such a strong desire to please Alistair, something he had not felt since Tamlen was lost to him.

"Hahren Paivel says that the only way there will be peace between human and elf is for us to understand each other."  Wraith managed to keep his gaze focused on Alistair, even as he plucked at one of the leather straps of his kilt.  "I like learning about you as well."

Alistair reached out, putting his sword-calloused hand over Wraith's nervously plucking fingers.  "It's been a long time since I had anyone I could call a friend.  Duncan was more like a father, but you?  You I can talk to, and I like that, a lot."

Wraith looked down at the hand covering his.  Without thinking, he turned his hand over to lace his fingers through Alistair's fingers.  The hunter looked up and met Alistair's eyes.  "So do I,"  he murmured as he tightened his hold on the human.

Prompt word: Yule

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