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He’s never made gloves before, but Blackwall’s gotten pretty good at mending and making over the years. After all, when you’re alone in the back of beyond you need to know how to mend your own things, and basic leatherworking is one of those skills that comes in handy. He’s no tanner, so he trades one of the sheep they took in the Hinterlands to a Ferelden woman who will use the meat and give him half the hide in return neatly tanned as shearling. When he goes back to get it, he’s pleased. It’s soft brown suede on one side and fluffy white on the other, supple and buttery. “This is fine work, it is.”
She smiles, fully aware it is. “And thank you for the meat and the other half the hide, Warden. What are you going to use your half for?”
“Gloves,” he says.
“Fine warm ones too,” she replies, and he nods and thanks her again. Fine warm ones, but not for him.
He borrows Josephine’s gloves the next day to use for a pattern. They’re the closest in size. He doesn’t have hide to waste, so he’s got to get it right. He turns them inside out to examine how they’re made and to make sure he’s leaving enough for seams. These will be a lot thicker than Josephine’s, though. They’ll be made for the cold.
It takes four days of careful cutting and sewing. Shearling is wicked to sew, and he has to pull seams out more than once when he’s made a finger bunchy or in one case crooked. It wouldn’t do. At last he looks at them with satisfaction. And not a day too soon. It’s snowing again and they’re off to the Hinterlands again tomorrow. It may be warmer in the valleys, spring coming up to meet them even in Ferelden, but at Skyhold it’s still bitterly cold.
He catches her in the hall after dinner. “Do you have a moment?”
“Of course.” Elleth Lavellan looks pleased. He knows that expression in her eyes, and he’s not surprised at the invitation. “Why don’t we go up if you’d like to speak privately?”
“As My Lady Inquisitor wishes.” He follows her up the stairs to her grand and drafty room.
She turns at the top of the step and kisses him, leaning up to put one hand to the side of his face. “Was that what you wanted?”
“Actually, I have something for you.” He pulls the gloves out of his pocket and hands them to her.
Her eyes widen. She says nothing, just tries them on instantly. They’re perfect except for the left pinky, which is a bit too big. “Oh.”
“Do you like them? I made them up and I thought they’d fit.”
She flexes her clever archer’s hands, now encased in the soft white caress of shearling. “They’re wonderful.” She looks up, and her eyes are bright. “You knew my hands were freezing.”
“I knew you needed proper gloves.” His voice comes out gruff. “So I made you some.”
Elleth blinks, glancing away. “That was thoughtful. I….”
He takes her hands in his. “So you won’t be cold.”
“No,” she says. “I won’t be.”
The next morning as they leave Skyhold she’s wearing them, and she sees his glance and gives him a secret smile, as though it was the finest gift she’d ever had. The knowledge keeps him warm the entire day.