Campfire Tales – Special Edition
The Warden had been gone all day. He was at Castle Cousland bringing he and Morrigan's son to visit with his uncle, Fergus. Now that the witch and her warden had finally moved into their quaint cottage beneath the Visparis Oak, things settled down and a life of normalcy was within reach. The teyrn, however, greatly missed having his nephew in the castle, so, from time to time, The Warden would take Seth the short distance of only a few miles so he could see his uncle. But The Warden wasn't sure who enjoyed the trips more, his son, or his brother.
Meanwhile, back at the cottage, Morrigan sat in the small kitchen, staring at a crate of her husband's dark ale. He was no stranger to drink, indulging himself to at least one or two of the brews on a nightly basis. But she had never so much as tasted a drop. On rare occasions, the witch would have a small amount of red wine, but barely a small glass full. She was determined to keep her faculties about her and remain in complete control of herself. Still, she had been alone for many hours and there was no telling when her warden would return, and even when he did get back chances were that Seth would be staying with his uncle at least a few days. So she sat there in the kitchen, eying his case of dark ale and trying hard to resist the temptation.
The sun had just set beyond the far western horizon when The Warden did manage to make his way back the the cottage. He opened to door and went inside, expecting to see his witch curled up by the fireplace reading a book, or in the kitchen fixing something to eat. But what he found was an empty cottage. He searched the entire house looking for her, but she wasn't anywhere around. He was starting to get more than a bit worried over her absence. Worried enough, in fact, to debate going to the chest in the den and getting his blades in order to go looking for her. That is, until he saw two empty bottles sitting on the kitchen table. Bottles that used to be filled with rich dark ale.
Out of the corner of his eye, through one of the rear windows he caught the glimpse of the burning bonfire behind the cottage. He could only shake his head as he saw Morrigan dancing in erratic circles around the blaze, holding a third bottle of ale in her hand. He smirked to himself and went out the back door.
"This can't be good." he said while he approached the witch.
She stopped in her tracks immediately upon seeing him, hiding the nearly empty bottle behind her back. "Oh... you've returned." she said with a distinct slur as she stumbled a bit. "I did not see you..."
"You're drunk!" he said in both shock and humor.
"I am not!" she insisted as she started to walk toward him with slow and deliberate steps, using her slender fingers to brush a few stray strands of hair out of her face. Halfway to him, however, the normally graceful witch tripped and fell, landing squarely on her backside, dropping the bottle and causing the remaining contents to spill out onto the ground.
"Well, perhaps just a little." she admitted with a sheepish grin and holding out her hand and squeezing her thumb and index finger close together for emphasis.
He cocked his head at her and said, "All little, huh? Looks more like you're shitfaced to me."
Morrigan began to giggle as she pinched her finger and thumb together repeatedly.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I am crushing you...see?" she answered and demonstrated by pinching the air some more.
"That's enough for you. Let's get you inside." he said as he bent over to help her up.
"Squish, squish, squish." the witch repeated over and over, punctuating each word with a pinch.
"Look, I am Shale." she rambled, trying to imitate the golem's deep voice, "I shall squish its head. Squishy things. Squish, squish." she said while giggling.
"Alright, Shale, come on."
He helped her off the ground and they walked back to the cottage together, with him bearing most of her weight. He was forced to put her arm around his shoulders just to hold her up. When suddenly, Morrigan stood on her own and pushed him away. She held her hands out to stop him from coming closer, assuring him that she could stand on her own. She straightened her clothes as best she could and tried to compose herself.
"Dwemer, come closer..." she said in a loud whisper, curling her finger at him as she did, "Listen carefully. I've something very important that I must tell you."
"What?"
"Are you listening?"
He nodded affirmative.
"Good. Here it is." she said and let out a long, rumbling fart. After which she began to laugh hysterically. She laughed so hard she lost her breath and tears began rolling down her cheeks. The Warden could only shake his head at his witch while she fanned her face with her hands in an attempt to gain more air.
After a few moments, she was able to compose herself briefly, before saying, "Did you get that, or shall I repeat it?" and busting out into laughter once more.
"Oh, I am so never going to let you live this down." he replied with a chuckle.
He gently led her through the cottage and to their bedroom. Once there, he sat her down on the side of the bed and began to remove her clothing, starting with her black leather boots. After he pulled her boots off, he set them to the side and reached around her back to slip her top over her head.
When he tossed the shirt to the side, she looked up at him and exclaimed, "Make love to me, my big Grey Warden, Hero of Ferelden!" as she swung her arms out and plopped backwards on the bed, which was followed by more giggles.
He continued to undress her down to her undergarments when he noticed that Morrigan had ceased making any noise. He looked up to see his beautiful witch passed out cold in the bed. He smiled to himself as he pulled her in his arms to a more comfortable position, resting her head against her soft pillow. He quietly exited the room and closed the door behind him.
He started for the kitchen to retrieve one his remaining bottles of ale, but instead found himself grabbing the bottle of dwarven brandy from the cabinet above. He pulled the cork from the top and sat down in the large plush chair in front of the fireplace. Maybe Morrigan had the right idea, he thought to himself. He pressed the bottle to his lips, turned it up, and took a long drink.
Over a period of a couple of hours, The Warden sat by the fire as he continued to take swigs from the bottle until he had drained it completely dry. He hardly noticed any inebriating affects on himself at all, and decided to get another bottle out of the cabinet. After all, he thought, what was the point in only getting half drunk?
But as soon as he stood up, the power of the brandy immediately took hold and the room started spinning around him at a dizzying pace. It was as if someone had tipped the entire cottage. He staggered to the side, tripped over his own feet, and crashed to the floor with a loud thud!
He reached up and flung his arm over the side of the chair for balance and hoisted himself up. He stood there a moment to make sure his feet were securely under him and that he had his balance. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to remember what it was he was going after, and like a sudden spark, it hit him: more brandy, he recalled with a snap of his fingers.
He started to take a step in the direction of the cabinet that contained his prize, but as soon as he did, his knees became wobbly again and down he went. If not for his hands managing to find the arm of the chair again, he would have smashed his head against the heavy wooden table beside it.
He chuckled to himself and thought, "Alright, let's try this one more time."
"Hello, Dwemer." a mysterious voice said.
The Warden quickly snatched to empty bottle from the table and held it out like it was one of his swords. "Who's there?" he asked warily.
"Do you intend to poke me in the gut with your bottle?" the voice asked, causing The Warden to twist back and forth defensively, looking for the source of the sound.
"Whoever you are, this is your last warning before I...I..."
"Before you do what?"
"I don't remember right this second. But its pretty bad so you better show yourself."
A soft chuckle could be heard as the form of a man stepped into the light of the fireplace. The Warden squinted his eyes in order to clear his blurry vision enough to see who was in front of him. What he saw was a man who was about the same height as himself and possessing roughly the same build. He was adorned in shiny metal armor that bore the crest of Highever on the breastplate. His head was topped with brown hair that was a shade or two lighter than his own, and a thin beard cradled the man's jaw. Rising out of the beard, on his right cheek was a scar that was a few inches long; very much similar to the one The Warden himself had, albeit slightly longer. And although The Warden was positive he'd never met this man before, at the same time he was convinced he knew the stranger.
"I know you, don't I?" The Warden asked the man who had turned to face the fire, stretching out his hands to warm himself.
"Yes and no." the man replied.
"A fat lot of help that is. Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"
"You know who I am." the man said. "Tell me, how many other Grey Wardens does our family have?"
"Edric Cousland?" The Warden asked, stunned. "That's impossible. He lived nearly two hundred years ago."
"Believe it."
"Alright, if you really are Edric, what do you want with me?"
"You tell me. Its your drunken vision after all."
"I don't understand." The Warden said as looked to see he was still holding the empty bottle like a weapon. "This is too much. I need a drink."
"You need to lay off that stuff. It's liable to make you start seeing things."
"Funny." The Warden quipped. "But you never did answer my question."
"What question was that?"
"Why are you here?" The Warden asked again.
"Well, my guess would be that something is troubling you deep down; something you don't want to face." Edric replied, finally turning his focus from the fire to The Warden.
"Like what?"
"Who knows? Maybe you're unhappy about something."
"Unhappy? That's a laugh!" The Warden exclaimed, "What do I have to be unhappy about? For once there's no great danger looming over the land, and Morrigan and I can finally live out the life we've always wanted. We're even trying to have another child."
"Well, I guess congratulations are in order, then." Edric said.
"Yeah, another child on the way. Another bouncing bundle of joy. I couldn't be more proud."
"You sound like it."
"It's just that..." The Warden muttered as he sat once more in the plush chair.
"What?"
The Warden let out a long sigh and stared into the dancing flames, "It's just that I don't know how good of a father I can be, or if I'm even up to the task."
"What about your son? You seem to be doing pretty good with him."
"Seth is...complicated." The Warden replied as his focus went from the fire to the other warden, "Don't get me wrong. I love my son very much and he means the world to me."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Sooner or later some evil will rear its ugly head. It always does. If I've learned anything with Seth, it's that the life of a Grey Warden isn't the best for raising family."
"I thought you retired."
"I am retired. It's staying that way that's the problem."
"You're afraid there's always going to be some conflict that will draw you away from your family, right?"
"Exactly." The Warden confirmed with a sharp nod. "I mean, what kind of husband or father can I really expect to be if I'm always running off into danger and leaving my family behind?"
"Sometimes you have to let people fight their own battles. Its a hard lesson to learn, but one I think you need to accept."
"Did you have a family?"
"What do you think? You're here, aren't you? That didn't happen all by itself, you know."
"Alright, good point." The Warden said, "So how did you manage it? Family, kids, and the whole being a Grey Warden thing, I mean."
"When you want something bad enough, you make time for it." Edric answered, "It wasn't easy for me either. But at the end of the day, who we have with us is more important than what we've done. At least I always thought so."
"So, just like that you gave up being a Grey Warden to settle down?"
"Maybe not just like that. A Grey Warden can't exactly stop being a Grey Warden even if you're retired. You know what I mean. It's not exactly a normal life, but I lived it as normal as I could. And it took time, a lot of time. There were nights I would wake up startled and terrified, dreams of my doubts barraging my sleep. I worried my wife so much that it pained me to see her that way. Even my eldest, Ellyn, would worry about me. She would ask, 'Papa, why do I hear you calling out when you're asleep?' It was difficult. When I fully retired, some people deemed me selfish, but it was a choice I had to make. In the end, it was worth it... so worth it. I was there to witness every moment, see every smile, catch stolen kisses from my wife as she went about her business, and experience so much more. I wouldn't have been anywhere else."
"Keep your family close, Dwemer. They will help you through your doubts and worries."
"I see."
"Look, you've done a great deal of good for the people of Ferelden, but you can't fight their battles for them forever. Eventually, you're going to have to let them learn to fight for themselves. You've inspired them enough to do that. It's time to focus on what's really important to you." Edric explained as his lips curled into a small smile.
"Who are you speaking with?" Morrigan asked in annoyed tone from behind The Warden.
The Warden looked around to see his witch standing in the bedroom doorway covered in her robe, her hand massaging her aching temple. The early morning sun was just starting to creep its way in through the windows. Apparently, he had lost all track of time and his conversation with the other Grey Warden went on longer than he thought. He turned his head back toward the fireplace and saw only the embers of the hearth still smoldering. There was no one there any more. If Edric had been only a drunken vision, it was the most intense vision he'd ever seen.
"I was just talking to myself, I guess." he said.
"Well keep it down. I've a headache." the witch grumbled.
The Warden chuckled a bit and said, "After last night, I bet you do."
"Oh, do not start with me. I am in no mood." she huffed, "I am going back to bed. Are you coming, Edric?"
His eyes grew wide with shock at what he heard, "What did you say?" he asked.
"I asked if you were coming to bed. Is there something wrong with your hearing?"
"You called me Edric."
"Why would I do something like that? 'Tis not your name."
"Maybe I am hearing things." he said with a shrug. "You go on. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Very well. But do be quiet when you come. I think I am going to be sick." were Morrigan's last words before she turned back into the bedroom and plopped back onto her side of the bed.
The Warden pushed himself out of the comfortable chair and went to join his witch in their bed. As he passed the bedroom doorway, he turned and gave one last parting glance to the fireplace. "Thanks, Edric." he whispered before closing the door behind him.