My apologies to all those who have not received a proper reply to their review. I have one thing to say and that is that morning sickness sucks big time.

So, no shit, there I was, that dark night we met up with the brooding elf.

Let me tell you from the start, though, Hawke and I had fast become buddies by that time. Joking aside, there was something about this woman that had fascinated me from the start, ever since I had started inquiring about her. Sure she was a looker, all the right curves on all the right places, midnight black hair and sparkling amber eyes-like a cat's. But that wasn't it.

Don't fret Bianca, that wasn't it, honestly.

She was clever, and this here dwarf appreciates cleverness in people, Stone knows how far and few between they are. The Maker must really like fools, he made so many of them, and this here city has a build-in magnet to draw them in, I swear. But Hawke wasn't like that; that girl was shrewd. And being the paragon of male shrewdness that I am, I was immediately drawn to her. Before long, I had learnt her story, the desperate flight from Lothering, her brother's loss on the way, and that rather far-fetched story of a dragon-witch-Flemeth-of-legend swooping from the skies to save them.

I like to exaggerate my stories, but jeez, really? A dragon? That morphed into a witch and back again?

I'll believe it when I see it.

So, I was telling you about the night we met the elf. By that time, we had already built enough rapport between us to be bantering happily along the way, laughing and trying to up one on another, which was no easy task, let me tell you.

Sunshine and Aveline were with us, and the job looked easy enough; Anso, a dwarf suffering from what I call surface jitters, had bid us retrieve his illegally withheld illegal goods. Did that make our quest doubly illegal, I wonder, or did two illegalities cancel one another out?

But here I am rambling again. Hah. Merrill must be rubbing off on me.

I'll tell you about her the next time, don't worry.

But before I carry on to tell you about the brouhaha that followed, a few words about Aveline.

That woman unnerves me to the very day. Scary lady. And they say ginger heads are fun. First off, she was smart, too. But that was were all similarities with Hawke ended. Hawke was a flirt, irreverent, laughing in the face of convention. Pair that with a caustic sense of humour and a scathing tongue and you had a killer combination. She loved danger and excitement and right and wrong were at best abstract meanings for her: Hawke did what Hawke thought best. She believed that laws were made to be bent, broken and spat on, unless of course it suited her to obey them.

My kind of girl.

Aveline was law. Aveline was respect and discipline and code of honour. Aveline was a guard. She wasn't the gentle hand of the law, either oh, no. That lady was scary. She tolerated no bullshit, and lucky for Hawke she loved her like a little sister, otherwise her and yours truly would have gotten in serious trouble with Aveline for some of the bullshit we said and did.

That aside, on with my story.

So, no shit, there we were, thinking the job would be easy, nothing Bianca and I wouldn't be able to handle, right?

Wrong.

Have I mentioned how much I don't like being set up? Yep. I have. Guess what? It happened again.

I was talking to Aveline, after the damned box in the house was found to be empty, explaining my theory to her of why they let a Fereldan in the guard, which mainly consisted of "You know, it's possible they're just scared shitless of you." She just gave me one of those stern looks of hers that remind me of my mother (shiver), and we all walked out together, to be greeted by a group of Tevinter slavers.

"That's not the elf!" one of them shouted.

Really? What was your first clue? Do I even look like an elf, you dim-wit?

And so, we got into the fight with gusto, me yelling "how many have you got, Hawke?" and her laughing and twirling and disappearing into the shadows; sweet Bethany roasted a few and Aveline was like the battering ram from hell. Soon the place fell silent.

Well done, my lovely Bianca. You were brilliant that night.

To cut a long story short, we met up with a slaver on the way out of the alienage, who started ranting and raving that we were going to die, and blah, blah, blah. I so wanted to yawn, but you know, it's not polite. If there was one thing my mother did, other than drink and spit like a sailor, that was to drill the importance of good manners into me. Anyway, the slaver called to his men, and then a poor fellow staggered onto the stairs, blood seeping from a gaping wound on his chest.

"Your men are dead," a voice said and a white haired man started descending the stairs.

So, reactions.

First. He was an elf. The pointed ears were a dead give-away. Weirdest looking elf I have ever seen, though: white hair, piercing green eyes and lines of a white thing carved on his skin. It looked like those tattoos the Dalish had, but it wasn't. I soon found out differently.

Second. Hawke. Her eyes shot wide open, she gave him a long, appraising look and bit her lip. I thought oh-oh. Trouble. Run, elf, run. Get away. She'll gobble you up, can't you see her drooling?

Third. He continued speaking, and well. I promised to be honest, as honest as I can be, so I will spit it out, and if any of you ever mentions this to me again, I will deny all knowledge.

Damn, that elf had a killer voice!

And then he went and gave us all the absolute, freaking hibbie jibbies. I mean seriously. Made my skin crawl.

What did he do? Those strange lines on his body lit up and he plunged his fist –yes, his fist, you heard me- through that man's chest. Pulled out his heart and threw to the ground, I shit you not.

"You have a talent for attracting weirdoes, Hawke," I muttered to her, but she didn't even hear me.

Oh, Hawke was a goner. I silently lamented the loss of my buddy as she descended into that pit of vipers called 'love at first sight'.

The elf continued speaking, pleaded with us to help eliminate his former master – yes, he was an escaped slave, oh goodie!- and Hawke, I knew it would agree to help him kill the Archon himself; she was that intrigued.

I sighed to myself, exchanged a rueful look with Sunshine and trekked behind her.

One blue-glowing weirdo had made us kill a bunch of templars and this one wanted us to kill a magister.

"Hawke, can the next man we meet not glow blue, please?" I asked her and she laughed. "Pretty please? I'll put you on my tab."

"How is green?" she answered and we made our way to Hightown.

Well, Bianca, no rest for the wicked.

I shot a look to Aveline, for once hoping the guard would object to us breaking into a Hightown mansion, but she just shrugged.

Well. Nug shit.

I followed her, as I always did. After all, Hawke was clever. She knew what she was doing, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, when it came to romance, that girl was a few bricks shy of a brick load.

Ah, bronto crap.