Day 13: Hahren (30 Days with Noah)

Char: Noah, Solas 
Ch Summ: “Ah, the bitter-sweet sound of revenge.” Solas surmises Noah's exact age and Noah's not too pleased.

Notes: see description below.

30 Days of Noah

Hahren

(noun)

title meaning elder or person of great wisdom.

    “This place must have seen countless of battles…Marvelous to think what memories it would hold.” Noah looked over his shoulder when he heard Solas speak.

    “Are these ancient elven ruins?” Iron Bull asked.

    “Yes.” Both Solas and Noah answered at the same time. “The oldest ruins we’ve come in contact with yet,” Solas added. 

    They were currently in an unnamed ruins, answering to a historian’s request on exploring the place. Apparently it was too dark and spooky for him to make the trip himself but it was to expected since the elven shrines and ruins usually housed ancient angry spirits.

    “Turn back,” Noah said, stopping. The other three stopped along with him and looked at him.

    “What?” Bull asked.

    “This is the ruins of an ancient burial keep,” Noah said.

    “Really?” Varric asked, turning to look at Solas for confirmation. 

    “How did you figure that?” Bull asked. Noah pointed up to a pillar to their right.

    “Each of these pillars contain a symbol of Falon’Din. The words that I can make out say ‘Friend of the Dead, Guide us to peace’ which Friend of the Dead is Falon’Din.”

    “So, we toss this mission?” Varric asked.

    “If we don’t want to bring down the wrath of ancient spirits upon us, yes,” Solas put in. “I believe the Inquisitor is correct, we should turn back.”

    “Whatever you say, boss.”

    Solas looked up when he heard the light tapping of footsteps. It was the Inquisitor walking through the rotunda from Cullen’s office. “Inquisitor,” Solas said in greeting. Noah nodded his head to Solas wordlessly, continuing his slow trek towards the library stairs. 

    Solas raised an eyebrow. He found Noah’s attitude towards him a bit strange. It was to his understanding that he was older than the elf. He could have sworn that type of seniority would mean a lot to a Dalish elf, especially since Solas knew more about the ancient elves and their way of life. He expected the younger elf to clamor for any information Solas happened to have and was willing to give. “Inquisitor, I wanted to ask you something,” Solas called again, just as Noah took one step up. 

    Noah stepped away from the stairs and walked over to Solas. “Yeah?”

    “You knew exactly what the text said on the pillars,” Solas said, crossing his arms. “And as we walked, I heard you mumbling all of what was written on the walls. My question is: how is it that a Dalish elf knows so much of the ancient language? It was to my understanding that the language was lost to all Dalish elves and only a few snippets of it still were used in daily life.”

    “I don’t know about other Dalish clans but the elven language was my first spoken tongue,” Noah said with a frown.

    “Really?”

    “Yes…I actually didn’t even know much English until I joined the Lavellan Clan.”

    “Lavellan isn’t your original clan?” This was news to the older elf. He knew little of the other elf, though, that was probably through no fault but his own. He assumed the elf was like others from Dalish clans: clinging to what little they knew and misconstruing it in a way that made it resemble nothing of the real old ways.

    “Yes. I thought you knew since it seems like everyone knows now.” Noah raised an eyebrow.

    “I guess I was just late to the party then,” Solas said, shrugging. He’d really only said it like that to gauge Noah’s reaction. Not even a smirk. The elf just stared at him with a small furrow in his brow. He even looked slightly confused.

    “…Seems that way…”

    He could never get a reading on the elf. He joked about a lot but was serious when there was need for it. He pulled pranks along side Sera from time to time but he could also be found buried in books in the library. He was much more mature than any other elf Solas come in contact with. His personality sat at the borderline of immaturity and maturity; he clung to youth yet he didn’t. It brought Solas to the only logical conclusion.

    “45,” Solas said with a nod. The average lifespan of a modern, healthy elf was only slightly longer than that of a human. Possibly by only half a year or so. Noah was on that borderline between leaving behind his youth entirely and going into, what Solas would call, elderhood. It was a point in every elf’s life where they began contemplating what it truly meant to be alive, free, and a part of the natural spectrum of the realm.

    “Huh?” The furrow in Noah’s brow deepened.

    Solas crossed his arms. “You do not refer to me as Hahren, as many of the few Dalish elves I’ve come in contact with have. You see us as being on equal grounds when it comes to knowledge, correct?”

    “…Or it could be that I don’t respect you…” Noah mumbled under his breath. Solas either didn’t hear him or chose not to comment on it as he continued to speak.

    “You are within the same age range as myself, are you not? You are 45 years old.” 

    Noah’s lips became a thin line, his eyes narrowing at Solas. “That bastard put you up to this, didn’t he? I’m going to kill Dorian.” Noah growled, storming away in a huff.

    Solas, his eyebrows raised, turned his gaze to the open archway of the rotunda when he heard chuckling.

    “Well, Chuckles, you just put Sparkler in the doghouse,” Varric said with a grin. He disappeared back into the main hall. Solas turned away to look at the wall.

    “Dorian, you ass!”

    A slow, small grin graced Solas’ face. “Ah, the bitter-sweet sound of revenge.”