'Holy Maker! That woman is going to give herself a heart attack before the day ends!' Alistair thought. He stood transfixed, watching in wonder as she frantically hacked and stabbed at the Darkspawn in front of her. And beside her. And behind her. Duncan had told him she was a rogue, but she was acting decidedly un-roguish, charging in before the others, taking the enemy head on. When they had spied the latest group of Darkspawn – two Genlocks and two Hurlocks – she had rushed ahead, bellowing, before he could stop her. The other two recruits dropped their mouths in amazement and then rushed in, not to be out done by this woman. And a very pretty one at that. . .
The moment he'd seen her, standing there waiting for him to stop talking about that fool mage, he'd felt like he'd been punched in the gut. And he'd acted like it, too. . . Forgetting her name, making a point of her being a woman. 'Idiot! Can't you ever say the right thing?' he scolded himself. His eyes trailed back to her, and he felt his face become hot. How could anything be so perfectly shaped?
The Hurlock took a swing at the girl, missed, then came back with its elbow, hitting her between the shoulder blades and knocking her to the ground. Alistair came out of it and realized perhaps he should join the fighting, too. He roared threateningly and ran down the incline, slamming his shield into the Hurlock a moment before it drove its sword into the girl's neck. She was still on the ground, gasping for air. She must have had it knocked out of her.
Alistair sensed the demise of the other Hurlock at the hands of the other two recruits, and they soon came to help him slay Mangebreath, as he had named the Hurlock he was fighting. He liked to name them – it helped him remember them later. Like a trophy wall. Only in his mind. He snorted as Mangebreath dropped to the ground, dead. Like he'd want to hang the real thing on the wall, anyway. Phew. What a stench!
Daveth kneeled beside Rowyn. "You okay?"
She glanced up at him, then to the side. "Fine," she wheezed. "Damn what-do-you-call-those-things-again?"
"Hurlocks. As in, their stench makes you want to hurl," Alistair interjected, grinning. He cleaned his sword and sheathed it, holding out his hand to her. She snorted in amusement at his comment, but ignored his hand.
"You know, missy, you should wait for the rest of us before charging in like that. You're going to get yourself killed for sure!" Ser Jory scolded.
Rowyn just cast a sidelong glare at him and rolled over, pushing herself to her feet. "Do not – unh – do not call me 'missy'!" she growled, standing up not-quite-completely.
Ser Jory raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
Alistair remained silent. He couldn't blame her for being a bit bristly. Duncan had told him about her parents and where she'd come from. "Alistair, she's going to be a leader someday. But, she's been through a lot. I saw what she went through at that castle, and it would not have been easy for anyone..." His eyes had traveled off, to that time and place, and darkened. "She's still healing. See if you can bring her out of her thoughts – be kind to her. Be gentle with her." Alistair had bowed his head in acquiescence, "Of course, Duncan." He had been trying to get her chatting out here in the Wilds, but the only effect it seemed to have is a smile here and there from Rowyn, and a lot of his own voice filling his ears. Well, he was used to that, he supposed.
Besides, Ser Jory did get on one's nerves. For Light's sake, Jory could barely hide his nervousness with his complaints about their tasks . . . Rowyn had attempted to soothe Jory with reasoning several times today. No wonder she prickled at his patronizing tone. She had twice the guts that fool did.
"Alright, folks. I think it's time to make camp," he said, glancing at the setting sun. "Let's find a low place, somewhere with a wall or protected side that we can make a fire."
The small fire crackled, giving comfort to those huddled around it. Daveth was entertaining the others with stories of his escapades in the city. He escaped punishment for his sundry petty crimes in so many amusing ways, Rowyn couldn't decide whether that made the stories more or less believable.
"… and then I said 'Ma'am, if I had wanted a slow and painful death, I'd have eaten your mincemeat and left the rest!'" Daveth said. Alistair roared with laughter. "She was in such a fury she didn't see I'd lost the ropes. I was out of there before she could make good on her promise."
"….heh, heh, whoooo," Alistair said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Well as much fun as this is, you all should get to bed. It will be a hard day tomorrow and I want to make good time. I'll stay up and keep watch."
Jory and Daveth sidled off to their bedrolls. Rowyn lingered, looking a little abashed. "I – Would you mind if I stayed up for awhile? I don't think I can sleep just yet."
"Uh, sure," Alistair stuttered, "I mean, no, I don't mind. But, wow, the way you went after those Darkspawn today, I'm surprised you didn't keel over hours ago! You do realize that Cailan will be VERY disappointed if you scare the whole horde away before he can have a good, bloody battle?" he joked.
Rowyn cracked a smile and laughed softly. "Well, I guess I had a lot of pent up energy. It felt good to be out there, fighting. But I'll be sure to leave a few of them for Cailan's army."
"That's right, we mustn't be selfish, now, must we?" he said in a mock-patronizing tone.
"Really, though," Rowyn said, apologetically, "I'll go easy tomorrow. I know I should wait for the rest of you guys – phah! I've been going against all of my training. I haven't been focused, and I know I'm more likely to get hurt that way. Or get others hurt."
"Don't worry about it. If it had been a problem, I would have said something."
Rowyn nodded and stared up at the sky for a moment. "So, tell me more about this Joining ceremony. What's the blood for?"
"Oh- it's so exciting! We strip down to our underclothes and paint ourselves with it, then dance around the bonfire singing the secret chant of the Grey Wardens! It is really a hoot."
"Uh – huh," said Rowyn, skeptically. "And how is it that the Joining is such a secret with all that racket?"
"Well, that's part of the magic, you see."
"Ah. Does Duncan join in?" Rowyn played along.
"Well, yes, most certainly. Oh, let me tell you, he is just fantastic at ritual chanting. He didn't become our leader for nothing!" Alistair burst out laughing. "Okay, okay, I'm joking. Ah, that WOULD be good, wouldn't it – seeing Duncan dancing around a bonfire, chanting. But no, really . . . I'm not allowed to say much about it."
"You can't tell me anything?"
Alistair grew serious. "You'll see soon enough. Just make sure you are serious about becoming a Grey Warden before then. It is a deep and binding commitment. You can't just walk away." He stared into the fire, silent for awhile.
Rowyn absorbed this. She didn't know that she had a choice. Her place with the nobility was as good as gone, her family dead or missing. And she owed Duncan. She could seek out Arl Howe on her own, she supposed. But that was purely a selfish act, especially on the cusp of a Blight. Yet ... couldn't she just fight Darkspawn after killing Howe? Why did the Grey Wardens need her so much?
"I've been meaning to ask – I don't know much about the Grey Wardens. Why are they so special? What gives them the ability to end the Blight?" Rowyn questioned Alistair.
"Grey Wardens are warriors beyond equal," Alistair replied proudly. "Because of our ability to sense Darkspawn, we are better equipped to hunt them down and kill them than anyone else. And, they've got decades of knowledge about the Darkspawn and know exactly how to kill the Archdemon and end the Blight."
Rowyn pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully, then hastily stood up. "Well, I think I will be going to bed now. Please wake me if you need someone else to stand watch, Alistair."
"I appreciate that, Rowyn," he said sincerely, surprised at her selfless offer. "I hope you sleep well. Good night."
"Good night." She settled down into her makeshift bed, staring at the sky. She did not sleep well at all.
