Title: Campfire Conversations
Author: Divine Dark Angel
Summary: A Dragon Age Origins-based series of one-shots and short-chaptered stories based around the original character Arya, a warrior of the Dalish who was chosen to become a Grey Warden and, eventually, the Hero of Fereldan. It is a mish-mash of prequel-story-sequel to the events of the game, since I could not quite get over some of the plot bunnies that have plagued me since I completed the play-through. This is my first foray into the DA genre, so please forgive any minor issues with Codex. I will do my best to keep all of the facts as straight as I can. I am writing this mostly for my own pleasure, and if you enjoy it as well please review and tell me so!
Rating: Anywhere from K-M, rating will be posted on the top of the story.
Pairing: Arya x Alistair (I can't help it, he's so damn perfect!)
Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize belong to and are copywrite of BioWare. The recognizable plot items and other such things are also copyrighted to BioWare. I am simply playing in the rich world they have created for us.
…..
The Hunt in the Wilds
Rating: T, for language and battle scenes.
Alistair wasn't sure why Duncan recruited the tiny female elf. She looked like a strong wind might knock her over, let alone a Darkspawn! The Warden's must be getting desperate for cannon fodder to be recruiting from the Dalish, though he supposed that she could prove useful as a scout since she moved lightly and had already snuck up on other members of the camp to eavesdrop several times since her arrival. She was a sharp-tongued sort, wielding her words like any other weapon in her arsenal. He was passing by on his way to deliver a message to the Mage ambassador when he overheard her exchange with the piggish man in charge of the supplies. The fact that she had a sword strapped to her hip and a dagger sheathed to the other flew right over the man's head as he addressed her as one of the camps many elven servants. The sharp retort she threw back in his face had Alistair turning away to hide the grin on his face as he carried out his duties.
When he actually met her personally the first time, he was struck by just how small she was in comparison to him. The top of her head came to around the middle of his ribcage, and her hands were tiny compared to his when she offered one to him. He brought the hand to his lips as he had been taught, missing the shock in her eyes that this human was kissing her hand! With a chuckle he had remarked that perhaps they should meet up with Duncan and get the joining underway. The quick nod she gave him in return had him leading the way to where her fellow recruits were waiting to go out into the Wilds to hunt Darkspawn.
After listening to Duncan repeat the lore regarding the Wardens, he took his three charges firmly in hand and passed through the gates into the Wilds. He was determined to hang back and see how the recruits did on their own, and who would emerge as the leader of the unit. It shocked and pleased him when it was the little female who took firm control of the two lumbering oafs that they were stuck with. He followed her as she hunted through the Wilds, her soft leather boots and well-worn leather armor making no noise in comparison to the full plate the other two recruits wore. She had eyed them with disgust when they clanked into place behind her, and that look had stayed firmly planted as they tromped out into the Wilds.
Alistair thought her heard her cursing shems under her breath as she flowed over the undergrowth and made no sound. He was in slight awe of her, and could see more and more why Duncan had fought to recruit her from her people. She suddenly swerved off the main path towards the pond, crouching near a nearly submerged tree and harvesting a bright red flower. She brought it to her nose and inhaled softly, closing her vivid forest green eyes and allowing a fleeting look of complete peace to flow over her features. In that moment, Alistair wished he was an artist to capture such a look.
All too soon the moment passed and her eyes snapped open. She caught his gaze and responded with a troubled look back, before tucking the flower into one of the pouches on her sword belt. She rose and glared her other two recruits into silence as she turned to address them, "You two are like childlings playing at soldiers, you make too much noise about how big your cocks are. That armor is too large on you and makes too much noise, you should have had it fitted before we left. Now, any large party will hear us before we ever get into an adventitious position. Stay here while I scout, and try not to be distracted talking about the uppity knife-ear while I am gone."
Alistair had to hide a grin as she disappeared over the slight rise, a completely blank look meeting the outrage on the other two recruits' faces. They had just opened their mouths to complain when a loud scream in elvish had all three of them coming over the hill. At the top they paused as they beheld their companion locked in battle with a large Hurlock, by the look of it an Alpha, while several lay on the ground wounded or dead. The three humans stared for a split second until they heard reinforcements coming from around a bend in the road. With loud war cries they charged over the low hill and engaged with the reinforcements before they were able to come to the aid of the alpha. Alistair was unable to completely turn his back on the little Dalish, keeping one eye on her as he cut down the smaller gurlocks that had tried to come to the alpha's aid. It was not because he felt anything for her, he reasoned, but because she was a recruit and he was responsible for her. The fact that she was female and tiny in comparison to her opponent might have also had something to do with it, no matter how competent or how large her sword was.
Arya, meanwhile, was not as caught up in her fight as she would like to be. At least a third of her attention was locked on her companions. They may be shemlens, but they were also members of the Warden Clan she was to join. This was something she would have to accept, including the slightly odd younger of the two full Wardens she had met. He was handsome, she supposed, for a shemlen. Any further contemplation of the handsome shem Warden was brought to a painful halt as she felt the short dagger the Hurlock alpha carried in his offhand bite into her sword arm, immediately causing her to drop her dagger and switch her sword over to her off-hand. The Hurlock's eyes widened as her grin turned blood thirsty, the momentary pause as he tried to adjust to her new sword arm giving her just enough time to run her sword through the underjaw of her opponent. She watched as the unholy light went out of his eyes and his body collapsed to the ground. The moment of satisfaction is short-lived, as her attention is drawn to the three male shems next to her as they let out a victory cheer. The darkspawn lay dead or dying by their feet.
Alistair busied himself collecting two vials of blood from the dead gurlocks at his feet, Arya watching him with curious eyes. When he approached her kill, the massive Hurlock alpha, he withdrew a third vial and held it under the dead creatures dripping jaw. Once he was satisfied he turned to look down at her and his eyes scanned over her for injury. Spotting the large cut bisecting her upper arm he cursed and tucked the vials into a pouch and ripped a large strip off of his clean undershirt. He grabbed her uninjured arm and yanked her to him, quickly striping her of her upper armor and dumped it on the ground. She resisted only briefly, unsure of what he was doing. His firm grip and a glance at those remarkable hazel eyes, had her quieting under his care. The other two recruits were talking softly to themselves as they looted the bodies for any useful items. Arya observed this to distract herself from the feel of Alistair's large hands tenderly wiping the wound clean and flinching as he poured a caustic healing potion over the gash. She tensed as the soft cloth was wound around her bicep and tied with a quick knot.
Alistair's voice came out soft as he bent to look into her eyes, "You should get that looked at by either a mage or a healer when we return to camp. It does us no good to have you handicapped. That is your sword arm is it not?"
"I can fight just as well with either arm Warden. It is nothing to concern yourself with." Arya kept the pride out of her voice, her Hunt master had beaten that pride out of her more than once in the ring.
"It concerns me either way milady. I would not like to lose the most promising of our recruits to something that can be easily fixed. In the future, please do not go gallivanting off on adventures without me alright? I don't think Duncan would be too happy with either of us."
Arya smiled slightly, the image of the dignified older Warden scowling at her in disapproval one she was already well familiar with. The Warden had been puzzled by some of her elvish customs as they travelled to the camp from her home clan. The little wolf statue she kept with her was always placed facing away from camp, and the woven token she kept tied to her pack was touched with reverence every morning. She had not spoken to Duncan of the reasons behind these items, and he had not asked. The quiet regard that the two of them had sparked was calming as she struggled with being away from her Clan for the first time, ever.
"You are correct Warden. Duncan would not approve. Very well, direct me to the healer upon our return. Thank you for your care, Alistair. If you please, we may return to camp."
