Chapter 4 – Recruits

Ceri wriggled and tugged at the leather armour, trying to get it to sit right. She was glad that the quartermaster had a small tent set up to act as a makeshift changing room. The prospect of stripping down to her underwear in front of the entire camp had not been attractive. The oversized woollen trousers and shirt were gone, replaced by soft leather trousers and a light wool vest that hugged her body like a second skin. She had been relieved to find the leathers gave her the same freedom of movement as her jeans and even the new boots she was wearing were a vast improvement on the ones she had relinquished. They were supple and light, clasping her feet and legs with gentle support that belied the metal plates stitched to them. There were metal plates stitched to her new gloves too and the second and third fingers were reinforced with extra leather.

The quartermaster's assistant, a cheerful elf-woman called Aline, had helped Ceri into the leathers, explaining each component of the armour in turn when it became clear that the girl had no notion of what to do with any of it. She showed her how the shoulder guards attached to the main body of the chest-piece and how the laces held the whole thing together. Ceri had to put the armour on and remove it until Aline was satisfied that she understood how to manage it herself.

"Of course, the best protection of all is not to be there when the blow lands," Aline said with a shrug as she adjusted the ties. "All armour has advantages: leather is light, mail is versatile and plate affords more protection. However they all have flaws as well: mail offers less defence against the long bow and crushing blows, plate can be fatiguing if you don't have the physical endurance to carry it and leather gives less protection than either."

"That's reassuring," Ceri muttered, staring at her hazy reflection in the burnished breastplate hanging on a nearby frame. The armour looked vaguely like a dress thanks to the 'skirt' of straps attached the body of it.

"I'm not saying it won't protect you at all," Aline laughed. "Just that for a little thing like you, your best defence is to be elsewhere. As for keeping it in good condition, it will need oiling to keep the leather supple and you must clean it of blood whenever you get the opportunity."

Ceri fought to keep her face under control as she nodded solemnly. Blood? Up until now she had not even considered the idea that she might get blood on her, whether her own or someone else's. The urge to run and hide in her tent resurfaced and she tugged mechanically at the armour again as she tried to squash the feelings of terror and confusion back down. When she was certain that there was no immediate danger of her bursting into tears, she thanked Aline for her help and left the tent.

She found Alistair still waiting for her. He had been joined by two men who he introduced as Daveth and Ser Jory, both recruited by Duncan to join the Grey Wardens. Daveth, sharp faced and dark haired grinned at her and offered his hand. Ser Jory looked down on her for a moment then snorted with disdain and looked away. Ceri looked both of them over, wondering why the mail clad Jory had looked at her the way Merrill might look at cheap shoes.

"So not only a woman but an elf as well," Daveth said with a chuckle. "Looks like we both lose Ser knight."

Jory grunted without looking round.

"Daveth and Jory were betting on what you'd be," Alistair explained with a wink. "Ceri isn't an elf though, Daveth. She's just short."

"Of what use will she be?" Jory demanded, raking Ceri with that scathing glance once more. "This is a war not a tea party."

"Duncan wouldn't have recruited her unless he felt she was good enough to be a Grey Warden," Alistair told him.

"Good enough at what though? Look at her." He gestured at Ceri's slight form, dwarfed by the three tall men. "She is a child and a child has no place in a war."

"If you don't like it Ser Jory, I suggest you take it up with Duncan," Alistair said, his voice twisting back towards the tone Ceri had heard him use to the mage. He was getting annoyed, she could tell.

They led her over to the racks where the quartermaster kept all the varied weapons. Alistair looked through them and chose a sword.

"Give this one a try," he suggested, offering it to Ceri hilt first.

It felt too big to her hand and Ceri became concerned that she wouldn't be able to keep her grip on it. Her fears were confirmed when Alistair released his hold on it. Unprepared for the weight Ceri staggered and struggled to keep the blade from falling. She twisted against the drag, trying to keep her hold on it and the sword spun from her hand, nearly taking Jory's foot off.

"What a shame," Daveth began to laugh outright. "You missed."

Jory was glaring at her, his pale face flushed with anger.

"You did that on purpose," he accused, pointing a shaking finger at her.

"Come now Ser Jory," Alistair said, sounding like he was trying to suppress a chuckle. "I am certain if Ceri had intended to hit you she wouldn't have missed."

Ceri felt the heat rise up in her cheeks as she tried to stammer an apology but Jory would have none of it. He stalked off towards Duncan's tent muttering to himself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as Alistair retrieved the sword. "I'm useless. It's just so heavy; I can't keep my grip on it."

"Don't be sorry," Daveth told her, "he's been grating on my nerves since I met him. Thinks he's so fine because he's a knight and all. It'd do him good to have some of the starch knocked out of him."

"You're not useless because you couldn't do something perfectly the first time you tried it," Alistair added. "First time I ever picked up a sword, I dropped it on my foot and broke two toes."

Ceri tried to smile but Jory's harsh words had struck too close for comfort. She had no place in a war, not when she wasn't a fighter by nature. Her place in her circle of friends was that of a peacemaker: it was her job to keep Merrill and Kisa from each other's throats, to keep Mateo from kicking off every time someone looked at him the wrong way, to smooth ruffled feathers and sooth wounded feelings. Even if they could find a sword light enough for her to hold and swing without dropping it, Ceri wasn't certain she'd have the nerve to actually hit anything with it. Her fretting was brought to a sudden halt when Daveth spoke again.

"Try these," he suggested, holding out a pair of long knives. They were about eighteen inches from pommel to tip, the hilts bound in soft leather and the curved blades were etched with flowing patterns. "They're Dalish design and lighter than regular knives."

Ceri found he was right. The knives fitted her hands like they were made for her; they were light and more comfortable to hold than the awkward sword. Daveth beckoned her to follow him out into the open area behind the quartermaster's domain. Drawing his own blades he began an impromptu lesson in their use. Ceri watched every movement with wide eyes, absorbing every nuance and trying to copy Daveth's graceful movements. Trying to turn while still following his instructions on how to defend with the blades she got her feet tangled together and collapsed in a graceless heap. She scrambled up again, certain that her face would burst into flames at any second she was blushing so hard. It was to both men's credit that neither of them laughed, although she saw Alistair hiding a smile. She asked Daveth to begin again, following his instructions as best she could. This time she remained upright to the end but only thanks to Daveth and Alistair each grabbing an arm as she fell.

"Well this is awkward," she managed to say as she dangled between them, her feet several inches off the ground and her face burning with embarrassment. "At this rate I'd be slightly more useful as a missile."

Alistair laughed outright at that as they set her down on her feet once more.

"It might be a good plan," he chuckled. "We throw you at the Darkspawn and then you come trotting back like a good girl to be thrown again. It'd certainly confuse them."

Ceri's reply was lost as Jory's acid voice rang out behind them.

"Why bother waiting for her to come back?" He stalked into the practice area, glaring at them all before fixing Ceri with a flat unfriendly stare. "The only thing she is good for is bait."

Ceri's shoulders slumped in defeat. She handed the knives to Daveth and walked away, biting her lip to keep the tears back. What was wrong with the stupid petulant man? Couldn't he see that she was trying her best? She didn't want to be anywhere near swords or fighting but she was trying for God's sake! Trying to learn, trying not to be a burden. Couldn't he see that she was scared out of her wits? Her course brought her back to the quartermaster and the man favoured her with a smile as she approached. Ceri managed a small smile in return but it soon faded. Jory's bitter words were biting deep, eating away at the confidence she had gained from Alistair's easy camaraderie. The repeated conviction that she was useless was nagging at her mind, mostly because it was true.

Ceri frowned, trying to think of something she could set against Jory's cruel words. What was she good at? She began to list off in her head the things she knew she was good at. Keep the peace between Merrill and Kisa, keep Mateo from starting random fights, keep the group running smoothly – those were her daily tasks. That was not going to be much use against Jory though as she'd never encountered such pointed dislike before. She was everyone's sweetheart, the pet of the group and the only reason most of them spent any time in each other's company. Alright, next point. She was smart, had to be to keep getting the grades she did while spending most of her free time out partying with her friends. Ceri devoured books as fast as she could get hold of them, absorbing the information and being able to relay it in a way that anyone might understand. Again, pretty much a non-starter. There were no books here and even if they were, what use would they be? Short of throwing them at these Darkspawn, there was probably not much point in mentioning her love of the written word. She could cook, although she'd never cooked over an open fire before. She could also sew and knit but again those were skills that were hardly going to keep her alive, not out here.

Ceri frowned as she walked between the racks of weapons, desperate to expand on her list of talents, trying not to feel so useless. She could dance and had a fair sense of balance but Daveth's instructions were confusing her. She knew that Alistair had meant well with his comment about not doing something perfectly first time, but Ceri just couldn't accept it. She had always been able to turn her hand to anything she cared to try and it was almost a personal affront to find something she wasn't good at. She pointedly ignored the computer games that had been returned after one or two tries because she couldn't get the hang of the controls, the musical instruments taken up and abandoned just as quickly because she wasn't perfect with them the first time she picked them up.

One weapons rack caught her eye and Ceri stopped before it, staring in wonder at the carved and polished wood. Now that was something she was good at.

"You want a bow, little lady?" The quartermaster was standing just behind her. "I thought those boys were being optimistic to give a tiny thing like you a sword."

Ceri nodded, her eyes never leaving the rack of polished temptations.

"Used one before?" he asked.

"I've been having lessons for two years," Ceri replied, reaching out to stroke the nearest bow. "My teacher says I'm getting rather good at it."

"What weight are you using? Twenty eight, thirty pound?"

"Oh no," she exclaimed with a laugh, "that's far too heavy."

"Not this again." The loud cry announced the arrival of her fellow recruits and Alistair. Jory glared at her. "Too heavy," he mocked. "That is all you ever say."

Ceri saw Alistair's hands twitch and had the sudden mental image of them wrapped around Jory's neck.

"Twenty four in a longbow," she told the quartermaster. "I can go up to twenty six in a shortbow for some reason. We've never been able to work out why."

"Try this one," he said, handing her an elegant shortbow. It had beautiful curling designs carved into the pale wood. "Twenty six pound, Antivan whitewood."

Ceri strung the bow easily and accepted the quiver he offered. She nocked an arrow and drew the string back. Taking a deep breath she focussed on the target dummy and then let the arrow fly. Daveth trotted away to examine the target.

"Smack between the eyes," he laughed. "Remind me to stay behind you."

Ceri grinned and waved him back, sending more arrows into the dummy in quick succession. They were closely clustered in the head and around the heart, each placed the same distance from those around it. She had to resist the urge to shout with joy as she walked across to collect the arrows when her quiver was empty. Jory's face was a picture as he stared in open-mouthed astonishment.

"How did you," he began, then caught himself. His mouth snapped shut on the words and the scowl returned.

"It's all in the draw, Ser Jory," she said, trying to keep the triumph out of her voice. "Any more than twenty six pound and I can't hold it long enough to be sure of my aim. I'd be as likely to hit you as anything."

"Any lighter and the Darkspawn will be able to wave at her arrows as they sail over their heads," Daveth added, winking at Ceri.

She risked a glance up at Alistair to find the he was gaping at the dummy. Then his mouth turned up at the corners and he began to laugh.

"Wow! That was just... Wow!" He turned to her, grinning like a little boy. "Do it again!"

Ceri's smile was like the sun bursting through the clouds on a stormy day. She let the arrows fly again, firing so fast the bowstring was singing. Again the arrows clustered tight around the heart area except for the last, which she put in the centre of the head. Her laughter rang off the broken stones of the nearby ruins and she half ran to collect her arrows.

She continued to practice with the bow, enjoying the sense of peace she always achieved during her lessons. It had been her mum's idea for her to learn archery, saying Ceri needed a hobby that got her out from behind her books. Ceri had loved it from the moment she first picked up the bow. She scarcely noticed when the men left, only half acknowledging Alistair's comment that they would fetch her when it was time to eat. Each time she went to collect the arrows she felt another small surge of satisfaction, especially when she remembered the stunned expression that had supplanted Jory's habitual scowl. It was growing dark when Alistair returned, calling for her to join them before all the food was gone. Ceri had followed him, feeling more at ease than she had since she'd woken up in this strange place.

She stowed her bow and quiver away in the tent while the others settled themselves around the fire. She found the shirt and trousers she had left with Aline had been brought back and left folded on her bed-roll. After a moment's thought she wriggled out of the leather armour and replaced it with the wool shirt. Leaving the armour and the gloves with her weapons she emerged, taking the empty space between Alistair and Daveth. She smiled her thanks as the young Warden handed her a steaming bowl before settling down to eat his own food, diving into the bowl as though it was the last meal he'd ever get.

Ceri eyed the contents of her bowl suspiciously. It was full of rough chunks of vegetables and small pieces of meat in dark gravy. She nibbled at a piece of carrot. It didn't really taste of anything much but at least it was hot. After eating a bit more carrot, some potato and something she decided was possibly swede, Ceri grew brave enough to try the meat. It tasted strange, not like lamb or beef, really not like anything she'd ever eaten before.

"What meat is this?" she asked, pushing it round the bowl.

"Rabbit," Duncan replied, not looking up from his own food.

Ceri swallowed, feeling a cold sweat break out across her brow, even as her stomach turned over. She looked down at the bowl, feeling her mouth turning down at the corners once more. Khan was watching her with eager eyes and his tail began to wag when she put the bowl down before him. Still he waited for her signal that he could have it before submerging himself to the eyebrows in the bowl. Alistair edged closer, concern plain on his open face.

"What's wrong?" he whispered. "You've gone green."

"I can't eat this," she replied, swallowing as her stomach rolled again. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

"Why not?" Alistair inspected the contents of his own bowl for a moment. "It's not burnt or anything."

"It's rabbit. I can't eat rabbit." Ceri tried to push the mental image of soft white fur and trusting pink eyes away. "I've kept rabbits as pets. I can't eat something I've given a name to. It's just one step away from eating cat. Or dog."

"You've got to eat something," Alistair protested. "You haven't had anything all day. We've got some bread somewhere, I think. You can't starve yourself."

"I've lost my appetite," she said, her voice very soft as she stared into the flames. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

***

An hour later they were still sitting around the fire. Sensing a need to lift the girl's mood Daveth had begun an instructive and often amusing lecture on the art of picking pockets. Duncan was poring over a bundle of papers and Jory sat apart from them, sharpening his great two-handed sword. Alistair stared at a small cloth sitting on the ground between him and Ceri. He'd found the bread and with it a fair sized chunk of cheese, leaving it near the girl even though she had assured him she was no longer hungry. Unfortunately Alistair was still hungry and more than anything he wanted the cheese, but he had offered it to Ceri and he couldn't just take it, could he? Of course he couldn't. However if she went to bed without eating it, why then the cheese would be fair game. So for the time being it sat there, taunting him like the soft yellow temptation that it was. A burst of laughter from Daveth caught his attention and he looked up. Ceri was laughing along with the dark haired man and Jory was scowling at the pair of them. Alistair's eyes went wide as he looked back to his quarry. The cheese was gone.

"Duncan," he exclaimed, turning shocked eyes on his mentor.

"What is it Alistair?" Duncan didn't look up from his task.

"Uh, nothing," he said, not knowing how to phrase his complaint.

"What's wrong?" Ceri asked, edging closer to him.

"The cheese was just there and now it's gone," he told her, uncomfortably aware how childish he sounded.

"Perhaps Lady Ceri's Mabari took it," Daveth suggested pointing to Khan who was snoring by Ceri's feet. The hound twitched one sleepy ear but otherwise didn't move.

"Maybe you pick-pocketed it and now you're blaming my dog to cover up," Ceri murmured.

Alistair's brows snapped together in a frown. There was something strange about her voice, like she was trying to talk with her mouth full. He looked back at her just in time to see her swallow.

"You little thief," he growled. "You took it."

"What?" she exclaimed, her face a picture of innocence.

"You took my cheese."

He lunged at her, fingers seeking her ribs and she gave a choked squeal as he tickled her without mercy. Ceri squirmed out of his grip and darted away, laughing as he chased her round the fire.

"I'm surrounded by infants," Jory snarled, leaping to his feet and storming off to his tent.

"Shouldn't you call them to heel or something?" Daveth asked. "Aren't they damaging our reputation?"

"We're far enough from the rest of the camp that it won't matter. Fortunately." Duncan began to laugh as Ceri dodged Alistair's next lunge, sending the young Warden sprawling. "Alistair needs to blow off some steam and I think Lady Ceridwen could use the distraction. She's had a hard week."

Alistair cornered her by the tents and went to grab her when she held out a half eaten and much battered piece of cheese.

"Let me go and you can have it back," she gasped, breathless from laughter and exertion.

Alistair stepped back, eyes wide and tucked his hands behind his back in a gesture of goodwill. Ceri held out the cheese and he grabbed it. He looked down at the cheese in his hand then looked back up at her. He recalled the rabbit stew, how she hadn't eaten anything all day then broke the cheese in half and put the larger piece back in her hand.

"Friends?" he asked with a grin.

She nodded. It was all she could do. She'd already stuffed the cheese into her mouth and was chewing happily.

"Are you quite finished?" Duncan asked as they returned to the fire.

"I think so," Alistair replied unabashed as Ceri giggled, then stifled a yawn.

"Do I have to sit up?" she asked, large grey eyes hazy with fatigue. Alistair was struck by how childlike she was at that moment.

"Not at all," Duncan assured her with a smile. "You should get all the sleep you can. Alistair will be taking the three of you into the Wilds tomorrow."

"Oh goody," Alistair muttered as Ceri nodded. He watched her ruffle the fur around Khan's ears, just a light touch but enough to rouse the dog. He yawned then followed her into the small tent, tail wagging.

A/N - Ouch, Jory hatred alert! Sorry to anyone who actually liked the guy but having played through Ostergar two dozen times, he is really starting to get on my nerves. It wasn't too great a leap for my imagination that he'd despise Ceri, not with all the whining he does during his brief appearence.

Updates might be slow for the rest of the month - I'm on a 5 week training course a hundred miles from home in a hotel that charges extortionate prices for internet access. Plus the subject matter is all completely new to me so I'm feeling rather overwhelmed and out of my depth. Rather like Ceri really except the food is reasonably good.