They set off again the next morning, still eastwards, though now more north then south, that being the only direction in which it was possible to progress without backtracking.
In mid-morning they spotted what had to be their destination; a tumble of ruins on the top of one of the tallest hills they'd yet encountered in the swamp. It may once have been a tower, but little beyond the base of it was left, the upper portion having fallen ages ago, lying in a smashed tumble of overgrown masonry down one side of the hill.
"Let us hope the treaties aren't somewhere under all of that," Alistair said, nodding at the mess. Right grunted.
"Too right," Daveth agreed.
As they climbed the hill, they spotted movement in the ruins. "More darkspawn," Alistair said grimly, drawing his sword.
The fight was vicious, but ended as all the others had; with them victorious, and the darkspawn slaughtered. They entered the ruins, and looked around. Not much was left, anything organic having rotted away long ago, just bare stone and piles of windblown debris.
It was Right who spotted the remains of a smashed metal-sheathed chest half-buried under the debris of a partially fallen wall. "Is this what we were looking for?" he asked, going to one knee and peering into the interior. Empty, save for a few wind-blown leaves and a sprinkling of dust.
A female voice sounded from nearby, causing all four men to start. Looking around, they spotted a woman walking slowly down a ramp from a higher portion of the ruins. "Well, well, what have we here? Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?" she asked.
Right glanced at the others. Alistair was staring suspiciously at the woman, Jory was looking even more pop-eyed then usual – either from fear or because of the woman's barely concealing clothing – and even Daveth's normal aplomb had vanished, as he nervously watched the woman circle the group of them, a fine sweat breaking out on his brow.
"What say you, hmm?" she prompted, coming to a stop. She ran her eyes over them, a faintly contemptuous look on her face, eyes lingering on Alistair for a moment before settling on Right. "Scavenger or intruder?"she asked him.
"Where did you come from? Stay back!" Right said warningly, hands on the hilts of his weapons.
She laughed. "Do I appear a stalking predator ready to leap upon her find? There is no need to fear me. I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?' - And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"
"Don't answer her," Alistair said firmly. "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."
"You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, swooping is bad," Alistair muttered uneasily.
"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" Daveth squawked, looking seriously shaken. Right was surprised; he'd never seen Daveth scared before, not even in the worst of the fights against the darkspawn. What was a Witch of the Wilds, that her just standing there seemed to be enough to scare him witless?
"Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" she asked contemptuously, then looked at Right again. "You there, dwarf. You have nothing to fear from any witch. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized."
"Forget it! You first," Right growled.
"Very well, preserve your mystery if you desire. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"
"'Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky... witch-thief!" Alistair sputtered, turning pink with anger.
"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?" Morrigan asked.
"Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them," Alistair said, drawing himself upright and giving her a threatening look.
"I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened," she said dismissively, turning her back and walking a few steps away.
"Then who removed them?" Right demanded.
She turned back, looked Right over, then shrugged. "'Twas my mother, in fact."
Right stared at her. "Is this a joke?" he asked suspiciously.
"If so, it seems the truthful rather than funny sort, no?" she said, and smiled. "If you wish, I will take you to my mother. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like."
"We should get those treaties, but I dislike this... Morrigan's sudden appearance. It's too convenient." Alistair said in an undertone.
Right frowned. Alistair clearly didn't trust the woman, Jory and Daveth were frightened by her – and all three of them seemed to be leaving the choice up to him. He just wanted to get this over with and get out of these sodding swamps. "I say we go with her," he announced.
"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch!" Daveth exclaimed fearfully.
"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change," Ser Jory muttered.
"Follow me, then, if it pleases you," Morrigan said, turned, and walked away.
It was, as Morrigan had said, not far to her mother's hut, along a twisting convoluted route that was so narrow, overgrown with bushes, weeds or reeds, and awash with a thin coat of water and mud in spots that it barely qualified as a path. Eventually they emerged at a low rise of ground, a small wood and clay building raised up on stilts to one side.
A wrinkled old woman was standing outside the hut, seemingly waiting for them, as if she'd expected their arrival. Right suspected the windows in the upper portions of the building, which would have a fine view of anyone approaching long before they reached the clearing, had more to do with her presence out here than any less rational explanation, though by Daveth's fearful mutters, he believed otherwise.
The woman turned out to speak in even less direct ways then her daughter did, though thankfully with less flowery language as well. Right couldn't decide if she was purposefully trying to tease and confuse them, or if she was simply suffering from some form of dementia, like his own mother on her bad days. He remained silent, listening to the edged banter between her and his companions, until she abruptly turned to him.
"And what of you? Does your dwarven mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?" she demanded.
He shrugged. "I'm not sure what to believe," he said stolidly.
"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware... or is it oblivious? I can never remember." she chortled.
She cackled on for a while, until finally Morrigan stepped forward and cut her off. "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother."
"True, they came for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."
"You...! Oh. You protected them?" Alistair exclaimed, sounding genuinely surprised.
"And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!" the old woman said imperiously, producing a bundle of documents and holding them out.
"I'm sure they'll be eager to act on your advice," Right said dryly as he accepted them from her hand, then passed them over to an anxious-looking Alistair, who immediately started checking them over for signs of damage.
"Well, I cannot be responsible for their doubts. I would go mad! Or am I already?" she said, and laughed, then made a shooing motion at them. "Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!"
"I will show you out of the woods. Follow me," Morrigan said dryly, and led them away again.
She spoke little, other then warnings of dangers along their path. It was as convoluted a route as the path that she'd led them along to reach her mother's hut, but for all its twists and turns must have been a considerable shortcut. Almost three days it had taken them to get into the depths of the swamp, but by late afternoon she'd brought them back to the trail leading back up into the mountains, back to the ruins of Ostagar. She left them there, without a word of farewell, vanishing silently back into the swamp.
"Strange woman," Alistair observed, before the four began the long hike uphill.
It was late evening when they reached the camp again. They reported to Duncan first of all, who was very pleased to see them back at last. He announced that they'd have the joining later that same night, and dismissed them to have a brief rest beforehand.
Right swung by the Mabari pens first to see the kennel master. The flower the man had wanted had turned out to be relatively prolific, and he'd packed away a sample of it on the very first day out. Dropping his pack at the man's feet, he removed a cloth bundle and unfolded it, revealing several blooms, only slightly wilted by their sojourn in the depths of his pack. "Is this the flower you're looking for?" he asked, offering it to the man.
"Let me see... yes, that's exactly it, wonderful! Give me a moment and I'll make this into an ointment. Thank you!" the man exclaimed.
Right snorted. "I'd prefer thanks in the form of payment," he growled.
"Payment? Isn't it worth something to save a valiant hound's life?"
"Only to the dog," Right said firmly, and made as if to refold the cloth.
"I see. I have... fifty silver? That's my own purse, and I've nothing more. I hope it will suffice?" he said anxiously.
Right nodded, and handed over the flowers in exchange for the coins.
His next stop was the quartermaster, where he turned most of the things he'd salvaged or scavenged in the wild – wolf pelts, some of the herbs Duncan had taught him were useful, some of the better bits of weaponry or armour from the darkspawn they'd killed, the emerald, and so forth – into much less bulky coin. Some of which he then invested in the ingredients and recipes for poison making; he'd been delighted by the effect that deathroot poison the man had given him had on the darkspawn. The cost of the ingredients wasn't too bad, but the recipes – ouch! That must be where the man had his biggest markup. No wonder he'd been willing to give away free samples.
That taken care of, he sought out food, then returned to Duncan's fire and curled up for a brief nap, wondering how long the Joining ceremony later would be – and what it would involve.
