Information



Ithilwen
Legacy Name: Ithilwen


The Glade Neela
Owner: Delirium

Age: 11 years, 4 months, 2 days

Born: December 31st, 2012

Adopted: 9 years, 1 month, 4 days ago

Adopted: March 29th, 2015

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 11
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 1
     
  • Books Read: 1
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


The shrieks were handled quickly. Really, they weren't that much of a challenge, and Zevran had to admit he was a bit disappointed. Some assassins they were.

"Ithilwen?" the templar called out. Zevran spun around. Ach, mierda, you fool! You let her out of your sight! His eyes searched for his Warden, honing in on her tiny figure several yards away, at the treeline. She stood stock-still, only inches away from another--

A shriek! Zevran pulled his daggers from their sheaths and sped across the clearing--only to be stopped in his tracks when his ears registered their speech. He froze.

"So sorry, Lethallan..." and with that, the talking shriek was stricken back, Ithilwen's blade driven straight through its heart. Zevran hesitated. What was that all about? He was about to speak when Ithilwen dropped to her knees, a strangled sob wrenching itself from her chest. Without concern for whoever may be watching, Zevran rushed to her side. He dropped down beside her, checking her for wounds, and finding none, he turned his gaze to her face.

Whatever had transpired between the two had affected her far beyond what he could have expected. She was falling apart. He had never seen her so...fragile. A hand reached up to caress her cheek, gently wiping away tears with his thumb. When she lifted her gaze away from the corpse to meet his, Zevran's breath caught in his throat. The torment in her eyes was something unspeakable. Her entire body quivered, as she sobbed harder even so, and he could not bear it any longer. Pulling her to his chest, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, whispering softly to her in Antivan.

"Shhh, mi amor. Por favor, ¿qué está mal? Mi querida, mi dulce amor." he held her like that for a time. How long, he could not say, but after a time, her tears dried and the tremors worked their way from her body. She was awake, but she did not move to free herself from his embrace. She whimpered, a frail and broken sound, and clutched at his armor when he shifted his weight. Frowning, he smoothed her hair back, away from her face, and gently cupped her face in his hand. She looked up at him, eyes bloodshot from tears, a look of desperation in her eyes. "Ithilwen," he breathed.

"Please," she croaked. "Do not ask me to explain tonight. I cannot." Zevran shook his head. He knew better than to push. She would tell him in time. Pulling her with him, Zevran arose, keeping her hands in his. Without a word, he led her back to the campsite and away from the corpse. Alistair looked as if he might question them as they walked by, but he was hushed by Leliana. Zevran could hear her whispering to him to leave them be. Zevran cast a look of gratitude in her direction before kneeling to climb into Ithilwen's tent, ushering her in before him and closing the flaps as he joined her.

Ithilwen sat on her knees, looking utterly lost in her own thoughts. Zevran sat down beside her, drawing her gaze with a soft touch to her cheek.

"You cannot sleep in your armor, mi amor." his voice was thick, and he found it hard to speak. Without question, Ithilwen began peeling her armor off, piece by piece, until she was down to her smallclothes as Zevran did the same. When they were both finished, with their armor discarded, he bid her to lie down on the bedroll. She hesitated, unsure of this new ritual, but laid down regardless. Zevran settled in behind her, pulling her warm body to his own, and wrapping her in his embrace. Gradually, Ithilwen's remaining resolve fell away and she drifted off to sleep. Only once he was sure she would not reawaken, Zevran allowed himself to follow her into the Fade. Their dreams that night were peaceful-- a gift not often given to the assassin and his Warden.

Dragon Age: Origins and its contents belong to Bioware & Electronic Arts.
Ithilwen is an Elvish name, which is derived from Quenya, the language created by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Pet Treasure


Glade Blob Kitty

Pet Friends