*DISCLAIMER: this is a product of Bioware, and pure fan fiction on my part. Once again NOT mine, just having a bit of fun with it. updates will maybe be weekly, maybe longer, as college will allow. Hope you enjoy.

A double update this week. Never say I don't spoil you.

A/N: it took me about 5 conversations with Cailan and three with Morrigan before I realised the game saves your last 20 something convos. *facepalm*

'Well, well, well' spoke a new voice. Female. He turned to face her. She was stunning, jet black hair tied in an elegantly wild bun, golden eyes watching him with keen interest. Her skin was the palest of alabaster, perfect. She wore a collection of furs and rags, but wore them with more grace and elegance than he suspected any lowlanders possessed. It was more than that, however, it was as if she was reading his soul. He felt vulnerable. Exposed.

'What have we here? Are you a vulture I wonder? A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?' she stopped, standing directly in front of him, challenging him. 'Well? What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?

He found his voice, and thankfully, he didn't falter. By the Lady, she was beautiful! 'I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.'

She looked less than impressed. 'Tis a tower no longer, the Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse. I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go' I wondered. 'Why are they here?' And now, you disturb ashes that none have touched for so long. Why is that?'

'She's a witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us all into toads!' Daveth whined.

'Witch of the wilds? Such idle fancies. Have you no minds of your own?' she asked.

Alistair glared at Daveth. 'Don't answer her. She looks chasind, and that means others may be nearby.'

'Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you, do you?' she asked, raising her arms for effect. Alistair flinched.

'Or have you found them already in your midst?' asked Nordja, turning to Alistair, trying hard to look menacing and keep a straight face.

'W-what?' he spluttered. 'She said it, not me!'

'Perhaps we are in league with one another, and I have led you into a trap!' he cried, unable to hold his grin.

Alistair looked confused. 'Not funny? Okay, continue.'

'You there' she said, gesturing to him now. Do not stare at the robe. Maintain eye contact. 'Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.'

'Nordja, my lady,' he said, taking a bow. 'And it is a pleasure.'

'Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan.' Morrigan. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place the tale. Something about a sword, and a rock.

'Shall I guess your purpose?' she asked. 'You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?'

'Here no longer?' cried Alistair. He seemed very on edge. 'You mean you stole them? You're . . . some kind of . . . sneaky . . . witch-thief!'

'How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?' She asked, grinning.

'Quite easily, it seems' said Nordja, breaking the conversation short before the two of them started arguing. 'I assume you have them?' he asked.

'No' she replied. 'Tis my mother that acquired them, actually.'

'Your mother?' he asked, incredulously. 'Can you . . . can you take us there?'

Talking to her was like playing riddles with demons.

'Now that is a sensible request. I like you.'

'I'd be careful' Alistair warned. 'First its, I like you, but then ZAP! Frog time.'

'She'll put us all in the pot she will!' moaned Daveth.

'If the pots warmer that this forest it'll be a nice change' Jory retorted.

He just wanted to be shot of this place. Nordja couldn't blame him. The Wilds were dangerous, but he'd never had to contend with darkspawn before. He saw his village, burning. He saw his father, dying. He felt the darkspawn, biting.

He rubbed his temple. Get out of there.

'Follow me then, if it pleases you.'

They did.

-oOo-

They walked, the recruits following behind the witch, while Nordja walked beside her.

'How long were you following us?' he asked.

'Since you entered the valley,' she replied. 'Though you alone suspected I was watching before long.'

'I was aware of something watching us, yes. But anyone who was raised in these Wilds would have sharp ears.'

'Oh? And which part of these Wilds do you claim as your own?'

'The darkspawn claim my lands now. But they were far east of here, near the Southron Hills.'

'Ah. Then you have my sympathies, for what they are worth' she said. 'Which I assume is very little.'

'You're the first to offer sympathy, so I'll thank you regardless'

She smiled. He tried not to stare. It lit up the forest path like a beacon. He couldn't look away. So beautiful . . .

'I think I would have heard you following' he said, steering the conversation into safer waters. 'My ears heard nothing.'

'Tis far harder to detect an animal than a woman. I simply changed my shape to track you easier.'

'One does not change shape with ease. Magic must flow through you strongly indeed'

She smiled again. Don't look, no, don't look aww too late. She was utterly captivating when she smiled. He felt enthralled.

The others looked on disapprovingly, especially Alistair. He shot him a backward grin.

'We are here'

It was a shack falling apart at the seams, on stilts. Stilts. And it was filthy. The smell was horrendous, like something had died in the hot sun. There was an old crone outside, waiting for them.

'Mother, I bring these Grey Wardens who-'

'I see them girl. Much as I expec . . .'

She stood silent, dumbfounded. Staring at Nordja intently. Confused. 'W-what are y-you doing here, mortal?' she looked genuinely worried now. 'No, you were forgotten, you were forgotten for a reason, thi-this cannot be!'

'Um, hello,' he replied, put off slightly by this madwoman. She was crazy. He put on his best smile and least-threatening voice. 'I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. If you could just return the treaties, I'll leave quickly. I don't want to cause strife.'

'T-treaties? Yes, yes of course,' she said, scratching her head and looking rather confused. Morrigan was not bothering to conceal her smirk. It wasn't often this woman was caught so flat-footed.

'Here you go, young man' she said, pushing a scroll into Alistair's arms. 'You!' she rounded on Nordja. 'Speak with me privately. Your fate is . . . unknown to me. You should not have survived thus-far.'

'Sorry to disappoint' he said, following her up onto a grassy knoll, away from the others.

'Humour. So like the others . . . and so different . . .'

'What others? What do you mean?' he asked.

'Forgive me, young man. You are in a tale the Gods did not mean you to be part of. My name is Flemeth, and your fate-'

'Wait, you're Flemeth? The Flemeth?' he asked incredulously.

He had met a legend. She was a real, living, person. He bowed. This was a true power, not the false God the lowlanders had raised. He was in awe.

'Does it matter? It's you I'm interested in. Get up!' he rose. 'Now, there were six others, all of whom are surely dead now, or worse. But not definite, they may still live. Who cares? Not they.'

She paused. 'I'm rambling, aren't I? One of them was supposed to find me, and I would set them on their quest. But you . . . you are unknown to me. You will not allow others to command you as the others would have. The world now shapes to you, completely.'

'What quest? What others? Stay your cryptic musings and tell me plain and simple!' he was annoyed now. Kaart had once said that mages usually talked in riddles, but this was ridiculous. Apparently, the Gods wanted him dead. Sobering news.

'Their fate was their own to make, yet still set upon a set course. But yours? Your fate is entirely up to you. You will still fight this blight, but the way you combat it will have far more major repercussions. You scare me, Warden. People like you are few and far between, and removed before they can spoil things. I should kill you, but you are now the only hope for Thedas. If the blight is not ended quickly, this time it will be unstoppable. The Gods will pit themselves against you at every turn. Be wary.'

'How quickly? How much time do I have?' he asked. This was far from what he had expected. But if this was the Flemeth from the legends, her advice was not to be trifled with.

'I'd say you have little under a year. As for the rest of what you will accomplish, I cannot say. Things are about to get very interesting indeed.'

'Right. I-I'm going to go now. Thank you for the . . . warning.' This was seriously messing with his head.

'I fear the world is not ready for you' she said gravely. She sighed. 'But it does no good complaining about things out of your control. Things are now in motion. You will have to suffice. So much about you is uncertain, and yet, I find myself believing. Do I? Yes I do.'

He gave her a sarcastic salute. 'As you say, ma'am. Going now.' He turned and started walking back to the others, leaving Flemeth standing upon the knoll, contemplating the events now beyond her control, quietly muttering to herself. As he passed Morrigan, he winked. If the Gods wanted him dead, he might as well have some fun with it. She smiled, and suddenly things didn't seem all that hopeless.

'Until next time, m'lady' he grinned, kissing her hand. She allowed it, grinning, while Alistair, now bored, made retching noises.

Morrigan retreated into the hut, while Flemeth stood talking to herself. Odd woman he thought. Very odd.

He turned to the others. 'Shall we be off then?'

'Yes, I'm sick of these Wilds' said Jory. 'Lets go back to Duncan.'

-oOo-

They left the madwoman to ramble at the dying sun, and made their way back to the ruins of Ostagar. Nordja wanted another view of the bridge, so he led them the long way back, up to the Imperial Highway. As they approached the bridge, he saw men erecting barricades around the tower of Ishal. He let the 0thers continue on, while he asked a guard what was wrong.

'Nuthin' was the reply. 'The Teyrns men say they've found tunnels underneath the ruin. Haven't found the end of 'em. The scouts they sent in there should be back soon.'

Nordja thanked him and hurried back, the view forgotten. This could only be bad news.

Ever the Gods will set themselves against you . . .

He drove the thought from his mind. The Gods can set their traps. He would be the one to spring them however.

-oOo-

He caught up with the rest as they were selling their spoils of victory to the quartermaster. Alistair and Jory used the cash to trade in their armour for new sets of heavy chain. As the senior member, Alistair's was of better make, grey iron by the looks of it. Heavy chain was not standard uniform. He suspected the quartermaster had just made a nice profit. Daveth invested in some poisons, also hardly standard issue. He also picked up a new quiver of arrows. Sod making that many.

There was no point hoarding gold with a battle imminent. They might as well spend it on things of use. Nordja eyed his leathers. Frayed, thin, useless. Still damp from his morning swim. He swapped them for a new suit of scale mail, iron. It fit well enough. He used the last of the coin for a new pack, his one had a tear in the side that would grow with time. Daveth handed his flowers to the kennel master, extorting a generous amount of silver from him, and they made their way to Duncan.

He looked impatient. They should have been back sooner. 'So you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?' he asked.

'They were' replied Alistair.

Duncan smiled. 'Good. I've had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you've retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.'

'Now will you tell us what this ritual is about?' asked Jory.

Duncan looked grave. 'I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.'

Nordja thought of the witches words. She said he owned his fate. Then again, this might be where the Gods nabbed him. Screw it. 'I have no problem facing what is to come.'

Jory sighed. 'I agree. Let's have it done.'

'Then let us begin' Duncan replied. 'Alistair, lead them up to the old temple.'

He led them up to the place where he had first met Alistair, and then past the pillars onto a balcony overlooking the Wilds, and in the distance, the southern mountain ranges. The edge of the Earth. Below him, the battlefield looked quite small. The wind was fierce up here, so high. His red-brown hair was sent flying. Maybe he should cut it short, like Jory's. It would be practical as well; enemies would not be able to grasp him. Oh, Jory and Daveth were arguing.

What a surprise. He intervened before Daveth could get nasty.

'Are you blubbering again?' Dang, too late.

'Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?' he cried to the heavens. 'I have a wife, in Highever, with a child on the way. I only joined for the honour, and glory. I'd rather be home, where I could defend them. If they had warned me . . . it just doesn't seem fair . . .'

'You would do a better job of defending them here, where there are enemies to be fought, no?'

Nordja countered. Jory might not be Warden material, so Nordja decided he would gently forge him into the role.

'I just thought this would send me glory, but its just lie after lie.' He slumped against the pillar. 'I want to go home.'

Nordja squeezed his shoulder, shielding him from Daveth, who was pretending to weep. Dick.

'I've just never engaged a foe I could not engage with my blade' he muttered.

Duncan and Alistair had returned with a chalice. Inside was a foul smelling concoction, giving off steam.

'At last we come to the Joining.' Duncan seemed excited. 'As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you, this is the source of our strength, and of our victory.'

'Those who survive the Joining are immune to the taint' explained Alistair, continuing on. 'We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon.'

'Those . . . who survive?' asked Jory, shrinking back.

'Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is secret. It is the price we pay' answered Duncan.

There you have it thought Nordja. Hot, steaming poison blood. Joy.

'We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?' Duncan requested.

'Join us, brothers. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant' he started. 'Join us as we accept the duty that cannot be forsworn. Know that if you perish, your sacrifice shall not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you.'

Nordja had stopped listening. A warrior would sometimes eat the heart of his foes, but these creatures were so corrupt and vile that this was nothing short of madness. Still, it could be done.

He wondered how long it had taken the first Wardens in the first blight to come up with this method. Did they despair, and try ritual suicide in the most grizzly fashion possible, finding salvation by mistake? Or were they guided to it?

He thought of Flemeth once more. The legends were hundreds of years old already, could she be older still? She had an interest in ending the blights, was she the true founder of the Wardens? And to think, this morning she had been naught but a myth. He was travelling in strange circles indeed.

'Daveth, step forward.'

The words brought him out of his reverie. He and Jory watched in growing horror as Daveth drunk deep from the chalice and hunched over, screaming, as if his bones were aflame. He collapsed on the floor, dead. His eyes had turned blank, the colour of milk, staring up at them.

Just like that . . .

'Makers breath!' cried Jory, panicking. This would end badly.

'I am sorry, Daveth' said Duncan, rounding on Jory. 'Step forward, Jory.'

'No!' he moaned, retreating. 'I have a wife, a child,' he pleaded.

'There is no turning back' warned Duncan, dropping into a fighting stance.

'No' he begged, back against the pillar. Only a long drop behind him. He was like a trapped animal, wild and desperate. 'You ask too much' he whimpered, reaching behind his shoulder for his blade. 'There is no glory in this!' he sobbed.

Duncan drew his dagger. Nordja watched helplessly, as Duncan, kindly old Duncan, made ready to murder a man he should have never conscripted. Jory was right. There is no gory in this.

He planted himself between them, before a blow was struck.

'Jory' he said, arms outstretched. 'Jory listen to me. Put the sword down.'

'No, no I can still get away, I can still go home!' he was crying now, tears streaming down his face. 'M-my wife, pregnant, child' he stammered, unable to construct a proper sentence. His resolve weakened, Nordja took the blade from him, and threw it to the side.

'There are two ways out of here' he said, smiling in encouragement. 'One is as a murderer, the other a hero. Which will you be?' he smiled. Jory broke down in sobs.

Duncan passed the chalice to Nordja, who gave it to Jory. He took a sip, and passed back the cup, drawing hacking breaths. His eyes clouded over, and he fell back. No screams of pain. Was he-?

'He lives' said Alistair, finding a pulse.

Duncan sheathed his dagger. 'That was a close cut affair. Thank you'

Nordja nodded. 'You should not have recruited him. Any can see he is not fit for this foul work.'

'I do what I must' replied Duncan. 'But the Joining is not yet complete. You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.'

With those solemn words, Nordja raised the cup, and put the rim to his lips. He hesitated, and then swallowed a mouthful of the vile substance. He dimly heard Duncan speak, as if through a dream.

'From this moment on, you are a Grey Warden.'

He fell into the black abyss of nothing.

Yes, Jory is alive. To me, he always felt like the odd kid at school that no-one ever played with. Yes, I feel sorry for a bunch of pixels and voice clips. Sew me. Initially, I was going to kill him, but about halfway through writing chap. 3 I felt really bad and devised a plan to keep him. DarthsDroids managed to make Jar-Jar likeable, I'm going to try and do the same here. It was also fun to mess with Flemeth, who is usually on top of everything. And when the shizzle hits the fan next few chapters, boy will she be right. If I haven't dropped enough hints by now, this will NOT follow the usual story to the letter. Pretty soon, it'll be following rule of cool, if it's awesome, it's in. I have a rough plan set up but if anyone has an idea that's beyond the impossible, let me know and we'll discuss. This story is for all you guys, you should have a say in it.

Thanks to all my lovely, lovely reviewers