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“It’s so cold here… Do you feel it? The chill eats at my bones.”
No. No, no, no, no, no. It’s not possible. This is a trick. Tamlen was… Tamlen is dead. Your eyes burn and your breath grows shaky as you feel your fingertips grow cold. You clench your fists.
“You…”
“You think: ‘This cannot be Tamlen. Tamlen is gone: he is only footsteps in the dust.’ I am Tamlen, and yet, I am not. I am part of the Gauntlet and part of you.”
Did you fail Tamlen?
“I… I..” You stutter and hesitate; unable to find the right words, unable to hold back the tears. Oh, you had asked yourself that question every night for months now. Yes. You had failed him. You could have looked harder. You had allowed everyone to give up so quickly. You had allowed them you send you away. You had allowed Duncan to take you away. There were so many things that could have been done differently. You could have killed the shems on site. You could have not forced them to explain. You could have… you could have…. “I… tried to….”
“Some things lost can never be found, some mistakes never unmade,” you inhale sharply; the words sting. He blames you, this not-Tamlen. “Those that survive must go on living. You have suffered enough, thinking that you could have done something. It is time to leave me behind.” No, those aren’t words of hate. Your body shakes as you press your hands to your mouth. You can’t see anymore, the tears make everything blurry. “I wish you well, my… friend… We will not meet again.” You shake your head slowly, unable to speak as sadness and grief well up in your throat. No. Please, no. You fall to your knees, tears muddying the dirt floor as you grab your arms in a miserable attempt to keep from trembling. Come back…. Just one more time.
…
Days had passed and the night was still. Too still. Despite the large fire, you are cold. Something shrieks behind you. Out of what seems like nowhere, darkspawn. Ambush. Four… maybe five…. Maybe. Something wasn’t adding up.
“You… lethallan.” Your eyes widen and your breath gets caught your throat. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. Not again.
“Tamlen? You…” It had been a lie. You could still make out the vallaslin that touched the corners of his lips. Despite the cadaverous appearance, Tamlen was still there; his forehead, his jaw line, his nose. If you thought hard enough, his voice.
“Don’t… don’t come near me! Stay away!” He runs.
“No, I can’t. You know that.” You follow.
“Don’t… look at me! I am…. Sick…” He had come back. You had wanted one more time. But this was… wrong. This was as much Tamlen as the Gauntlet ghost had been.
I am Tamlen, and yet, I am not.
“Let me help you, please.”
“No help. No… help for me.” You blame yourself once more. You hadn’t helped him then. You had not done anything. “The song… in my head. It… calls to me. He sings to me! I can’t stop it! Don’t want... to hurt you, lethallan. Please… stop me.”
“Let me help you!” You cry, the tears are rolling down your face once again, “Tamlen please.” You can’t lose him again. When you lost him, you had lost yourself. When you lost him, you had lost your place in the clan. When you lost him….
“Too far.” His head shakes stiffly, “You cannot help me.” Once again, the words sting.
“I have to try.” You had been useless the first time around. But this, maybe this was your second chance. “I want to try. I need to try. I need you.” Your voice grew louder, more distraught, with every sentence. Anxiety rippled through your muscles. This was your last chance. If you could not do something now, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself any longer.
“Always…” he whispered. You almost didn’t hear him, “loved you… I’m so sorry.” He lungs at you and the rest of the group cut him down before you have a chance to move, to tell them to stop, to explain, to help. A shrill cry is the only thing that manages to leave your lips as you push through the others. You collapse by his body, grasping your trembling fingers around his hand.
Tears continue to steam down your face, “na…melana sahlin…e-emma… ir abelas…” you sputter through your heaving and hiccups, unable to finish the eulogy, “m-ma’arlath, Tamlen.”
You don’t know how long you where there on the ground. You don’t remember how or when you fell asleep, just that footsteps wake you. You lift your head from Tamlen’s chest and a blanket falls off your back. Zevran. Despite his attempt to kill you, you took a liking to the Antivan elf. For the longest time he helped you forget.
“Hmm… talk to me,” his hazel eyes watched you intently as he sat down beside you, “who is this poor fellow here. This Tamlen?”
“Tamlen… is… was… I… I loved him, for so long. And… I couldn’t help him.” You squeeze your eyes tight and clench your jaw. But tears don’t come.
“We all have deaths in which we blame ourselves; deaths that could have been prevented with so many different choices. Deaths… kills… that we all regret.” Zevran, and spoke with an understanding that ran deeper than what you expected of the assassin for hire. There is a moment of silence between the two of you before Zevran stands, “strange how everyone has the blood of someone they loved on their hands, no?” The statement was quick and muted.
You reach for him when he turns to walk away, to leave you to mourn in whichever way you felt it was best. “Wait for me?” It was becoming hard to remember what Tamlen sounded like.
“All right, but I get to stare are you luridly while I do so.” A soft grin before footsteps disappear.
“Ma serannas, lethallin, vir lath sa’vunin.”