Okay, I forgot this all last chapter. So, here it is: I own nothing save for Adela (well and maybe her stylized halla figurine, although Loghain did abscond with it. *shrugs* go figure). Bioware has my eternal gratitude for creating this world and letting me play in their sandbox.
I'm still not going canon with the game or the books - just a some twists to make things fit to my story. I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. It went on way longer than I had wanted, and had actually planned for it have more and conclude a few things. *shrugs* That's what happens with you give your characters their own free will, I guess.. However, I figured I would end where I did and continue on to the next chapter (Loghain is shouting at me right now…guess I need to get the next chapter done; be forewarned - the next chapter may take a bit longer to post, and postings will start taking longer). And lisakodysam, there's a special addition just for you!
As always, thank you all for the reviews, alerts and favorites. Biff McLaughlin, mutive, lisakodysam, and demonshade (thanks, demonshade, for your thoughtful critique. I am hoping to improve my writing and your critique will help point me in that direction). Every word is a great boost to my ego and momentum.
DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn
Chapter 9
Rid of his bodyguards, Loghain stalked through the camp, passed where fearful soldiers prostrated themselves in prayer to the Maker, to the spot the Warden recruits were camped. Glaring about the site, he grumbled as he took note that no one was present. Where was that bastard? He snarled to himself. He had seen him not an hour before speaking with Cailan. He surely had not gotten very far.
As he continued his brooding and search, Loghain found himself momentarily unnerved by his very strong reaction to the knowledge that soon Adela would be committed to the Grey Wardens. The longer he thought about it, the more enraged he became.
Lately, his emotions had been becoming…erratic. He was aware of this fact, but had been finding himself increasingly unable to calm them. He put it down to the ongoing gossip regarding Cailan's fidelity to Anora, the increasing volume to the whispers of the nobles that Anora need be set aside in favor of a younger, presumably more fertile queen, and now Cailan's insistence that they rely upon the Orlesians to assist with the darkspawn incursion. This did not explain to his satisfaction why he was so angry about the idea of Adela being here, in the line of fire, about to be initiated into the secretive order that was the Grey Wardens.
If only the girl would stay in Denerim where I could watch over her! He stopped in his tracks, absorbing that last thought. Not wanting to follow the path his thoughts took with that little admission, he continued his search for the Commander of the Grey.
His diligence was rewarded shortly as he spotted Duncan stepping away from the magi's encampment. The elderly mage, Wynne, watched Duncan walk away before turning back to the tranquil she had been assisting. His eyes now on his target, Loghain advanced upon the other man.
"Duncan, a word," Loghain called, his voice holding back any of the overwrought emotions he was dealing with. Duncan paused and turned toward the Teryn, his face remaining impassive. Duncan had been expecting this confrontation for some time now.
"Teryn Loghain," the commander bowed respectfully. "How may I be of assistance?" His tone of voice calm. Duncan made a conscious decision to not start the conversation in an antagonizing manner. He and the Teryn had a history of…dislike for one another, and he had no desire to exacerbate the situation now.
Loghain's brows furrowed downwards, the scowl firmly in place. "You must be pleased with yourself, Warden," he remarked, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
A brow rose slightly at that, and Duncan responded evenly. "Pleased? How so?"
The scowl on Loghain's face only deepened. "You finally have a Mahariel in your pocket," he snarled. "You must have been greatly pleased to get your hands on her."
Although expecting some kind of confrontation with the Teryn regarding Adela's conscription, Duncan was surprised by the naked emotion that the Teryn tried to keep a rein on. The Warden stood for a moment, studying his old adversary's face. He could not help but wonder if the girl in question was aware of how the older man felt about her. Knowing Adela, most likely not.
"I assure you, Teryn Loghain," he started, still maintaining his calm. "Had I not conscripted young Adela, she would have been taken to Fort Drakon and from there to the gallows." He frowned. "And we both know her time at Fort Drakon would have been less than pleasant."
"Anora would never…" the Teryn started harshly, taking a step forward.
However, Duncan cut him off, "Adela had no intention of calling for sanctuary from the Queen or anyone else." A lesser man would have backed down from the intensity that was Loghain. However, Duncan was not a lesser man and so met Loghain's stance, dark eyes meeting those icy orbs.
"She was willing to take full responsibility," he frowned slightly at recalling just how willing she was to give up her life so that no harm would befall her beloved Alienage. "And she understood exactly what that meant." He noticed a slightly confused expression crease Loghain's brow, and the taller man stepped back, watching as the Warden continued. "I had to conscript her and even then argue with her to accept it. She actually called me on it several times during our journey here."
"What happened?" Loghain asked, the aggressive tone all but melting away from his voice.
Duncan shook his head. "It is not my place to discuss that," the Warden explained, watching as renewed anger clouded the Teryn's face. He stepped back, bowing, and turned to leave. "That is something you need to discuss with Adela." With those words, he walked away from the seething Teryn.
Loghain could only watch the Warden's retreating back as his anger reasserted itself anew.
DA:O
"A bath," Adela was muttering as they passed beyond the Wilds' boundaries and back into camp. Alistair grinned at her. "No, really," she was adamant. "I really need a bath."
She grimaced at the tight feel of blood and dirt on her exposed skin, and glanced over to their campsite. No Duncan in sight. Hmm…"I'm going to skip over to my tent and then see if I can get a quick wash before Duncan arrives…" and with those words, she left the three men.
Alistair watched the elven woman skip away to the campsite. Daveth took the opportunity to walk up beside the junior Warden, whistling a little as he, too, watched the lovely elf with great appreciation in his eyes.
"Yup," the rogue said, drawing Alistair's attention to him. "Now that right there is a fine piece," he continued, grinning at the other man. Jory just scoffed as he stalked away from the pair, and Alistair shot the other man a glare. Daveth noticed the look, but wasn't going to keep quiet. "C'mon, chantry boy," he quipped, obviously trying to rile him. "Don't you be tellin' me that you haven't noticed her fine…" he grinned, "assets."
His grin widened as Alistair remained silent. "I seem to recall you noticing them fairly well when we left camp the other day. Oh," and Daveth quickened his pace away from the larger man, "and while we was in the Wilds," he grinned wider still, "and at camp…" Then, the rogue turned away and stepped into the campsite.
Alistair just shook his head, a relieved smile on his face as he spotted Duncan walking toward them. Looks like Adela is not going to get her bath just yet, the young man thought with a great deal of sympathy. That sympathy erupted into mirth as he watched the girl exit her tent, sundries in hand, only to have Duncan shake his head "no". Frowning, looking like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, the girl reluctantly tossed her bag back into her tent and stood before the Warden Commander, waiting for the others.
Duncan nodded as Alistair stepped into the site. "Good. I see that you are all back," his eyes still on Alistair, he added, "were you successful?"
Alistair nodded, handing Duncan three vials of darkspawn blood. "Yes, Duncan. Each of the recruits felled at least one darkspawn and retrieved the blood." He stood straight, as though at a military inspection. "Although to be fair, each of the recruits felled far more than just one of the creatures."
"Oh?" Duncan watched the junior Warden. "Very good." He turned to see a young mage enter the campsite. "Take these to Senior Enchanter Wynne and ask her to finalize the rite." The mage nodded his head, turned and left, carefully holding the vials.
"And the treaties?" Adela had already pulled them from her pack and handed them to Duncan. He looked them over briefly and then put them into a leather pouch hanging at his hip.
Adela watched as Duncan packed away the treaties, and then spoke, "Okay, Duncan. Are we near enough to the joining ceremony to know what's going on?"
He nodded, "I will not lie to you," his voice was serious, and he fixed each of the recruits with a penetrating stare. "We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decide that you pay that price now rather than later."
"You mean, we could die?" Jory asked, dread fairly dripping from his voice.
"Yes, it is possible."
"Well," Daveth remarked, clapping his hands together once. "I'd've been hung in Denerim had you not the sense to see my own very remarkable skills," he boasted. "So, I'm 'bout as ready as I'll ever be for this here joining."
"I, too, am ready," Jory remarked, trying to swallow down his fear.
Adela was nodding. She looked up. "Like Daveth, I would be dead - or worse - had you not come along, Duncan. If I die here, at least I had a few extra weeks and got to journey to Ostagar."
Duncan nodded sagely, yet felt a keen sense of pride at the young woman's words. A look over at Alistair told him that the junior Warden, although apparently upset by what could be the outcome, held a modicum of pride as well. "Alistair," he got the other Warden's attention. "Bring the recruits to the old temple. We will begin the joining shortly."
"Yes, Duncan," he replied as Duncan turned and walked to the old temple.
Muttering that she could have taken a bath first, Adela followed the others. As they passed the kennels, though, she ran to the kennel master and handed him a white flower. The man seemed pleased and wanted to speak more, but she waved him off and hurried away. It was then that Alistair recalled her picking that flower, saying something about a sick mabari. She caught up with the men just as they were heading up the ramp to meet with Duncan.
Duncan had stepped away to speak with the white haired mage, motioning Alistair to follow. The elderly mage handed Duncan a chalice, said a few words to both men and then departed.
Duncan turned to Alistair, speaking softly, "What was your impression of our recruits during their foray into the Wilds?"
Alistair frowned slightly, running his hand through his hair. "Well…" he did not know where to start. "I have to admit to a bit of…confusion…as to why Ser Jory was recruited," he looked over at his mentor, who was studying him without expression. "He's skilled with that huge sword of his, but…I don't know. He seems to lack heart - it's so closely tied to his wife and unborn child that that's all he seems to think about. He also doesn't really have a sense for battle, like it's all a great big tournament and we're all invited to watch." Alistair shrugged. "He, well, he also seems to lack a bit of respect for those who aren't…" Alistair struggled here for the right word. "I don't know…knights? Nobles? Human? Men?"
Duncan raised his eyebrows. "Oh? How so?"
Sputtering out a sigh, (he really did not like doing this, bad talking someone who may well become a brother warden), he continued. "He seemed to take on a superior air with Daveth, and all but treated Adela like she was some servant. Well, until she set him straight in that regard and Daveth can give as good as he takes."
Duncan frowned a bit at that, but said nothing. They had recruited nobles before and could well deal with someone's act of superiority. If nothing else, the more senior wardens would figuratively (and perhaps literally) beat it out of him.
"What about Daveth?" Duncan prodded, keeping the conversation on course.
Hi smirked and nodded. "You know, when I first met him, I was sure he was some braggart rogue looking to steal your purse with one hand, stab you in the back with the other, all while trying to bed some poor unsuspecting girl."
"And now?"
Alistair laughed. "Well, I don't think he's going to stab us in the back." Duncan chuckled at that. "He actually showed amazing courage facing the darkspawn, and was wherever any of us needed his blade at any time. He followed orders well, and just seemed to know where he was needed." Alistair grinned. "He's also friendly. I thought for certain he would be the most obnoxious ass, but he's fair decent, once you know to expect the snide remark here or there, and you know he's going to flirt with the girls." The young Warden nodded. "He'll make a good addition to the Wardens." If he survives, he silently finished.
Nodding, his arms crossed against his chest, Duncan then asked about Adela. This was a subject Alistair could warm up to. "It's obvious she doesn't have a lot of actual battle experience. There were a few times she seemed to hesitate and when a foe got too close, I thought she'd jump out of her skin." He frowned a bit. "I even recall her acting skittish whenever one of us moved too closely. However, she listened well, asked questions when needed, and followed instruction. Heck, Duncan, she was even ordering us around toward the end there. She's a natural when it comes to leadership and that, I think, more than makes up for any lack of battle experience she may have."
"I had thought so as well," Duncan agreed, motioning for the young man to continue.
"She's deadly accurate with her bow; but needs more work with hand-to-hand combat; she's courageous even when she's scared stiff." Alistair grinned. "Should I go on about how she's smart, funny, beautiful, puts people at ease…?" Duncan smirked, raising a brow. "Oh! In addition, she's a healer. Whenever any of us got injured, she was right there with poultices and bandages."
"Hmmm…I'd imagine in the Alienage they would need their own as healers, as many therein would be unable to afford a healer from outside the Alienage." Duncan put in.
"You know, I never thought of that. So, Adela must have been one of their healers," the young man mused. "Huh."
Duncan's attention shifted to the three recruits. Jory and Daveth are bantering - bickering - back and forth and Adela is barely paying any attention to them. He noticed she was watching him and Alistair and when she noticed his focus on her, she gave a small embarrassed smile and turned back to her companions. "Thank you, Alistair. I believe we should begin the joining."
The pair of Wardens walked back to the three recruits.
Duncan turned to face the trio. "We bear a sacred burden. For an age, we have protected the lands of men. Now, a Blight is upon us and we dare not falter. Regardless of race, station in life, mage or warrior. The best must take up our banner to save us all from annihilation."
He paused. "We Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. And so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood," he looked at each recruit before continuing, "and mastered it's taint."
Jory paled. "We…we're going to drink the…blood of those…those creatures?"
"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we," he motioned to include Alistair, "did before you. This is the source of our power," he clenched a fist before him, "and our victory."
"Those who survive the joining become immune to the taint," Alistair advised, seeking to ease the tensions of the knight. "We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon."
Adela looked over her fellow recruits. Jory was terrified, Daveth resolute. To Duncan she spoke in a small voice, "It's the darkspawn blood that could also kill us."
"Those who survive the joining are forever changed. This is why the joining is a secret. It is the price we pay."
Recalling all the times she bothered Duncan and Alistair regarding the joining, the elf smiled sadly a bit.
"We speak only a few words prior to the joining. But these words have been said since the first." he turned to the junior Warden. "Alistair, if you would."
"Join us, brothers and sisters." Alistair began, his voice soft and reverent, his head bowed. Daveth and Adela each bowed their heads, as did Duncan. Jory's fearful gaze kept going back to the chalice, its presence foreboding, terrifying in its call of duty.
"Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."
Turning to pick up the chalice, Duncan called Daveth forth. "Daveth, step forward," he turned back to the young man. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."
Daveth took the chalice in steady hands. He tossed a mischievous grin Adela's way, "Well, guess this is it. Will you be impressed when I'm a Grey Warden?" he joked, recalling his first meeting with the pretty elf. Adela graced him with a wide smile, giving him a small shrug. His attention back to the chalice, he brought it up to his lips and drank.
He handed the chalice back, but this time his hands were shaking, terribly so. Adela gasped as Daveth grabbed hold of his throat, choking. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he stumbled. With a gurgling cry, he slumped to the ground.
Forcing herself to stand still, the elf watched as Duncan knelt down, feeling for a pulse. The Commander bowed his head, and murmured, "I am sorry, Daveth." Fear clenched Adela's stomach, and she felt the need to vomit. She controlled the urge, knowing that there was no turning back. She would live or die. As a Grey Warden.
Duncan turned to the knight, "Jory, step forward," he commanded.
But Jory stepped back toward the wall, cornering himself in. "No." he mumbled. "I have a wife…a child…"
"There is no turning back," Duncan advised, advancing with the chalice. Jory started to pull his sword.
"No, there is no glory in this!" His sword was fully out of its sheath and he was bringing it to bear.
Adela made to move toward the frightened knight, but Alistair pulled her back and away. The elf gasped as the young man placed his hands on her arms, holding her too closely against him. She shook her head, trying to move away from him. That only caused Alistair to hold more firmly.
The junior Warden cursed Jory's cowardice, not only for his own sake, but also for Adela. She didn't need to be any more frightened than she already was, he thought bitterly, feeling her trembling almost uncontrollably beneath his hands.
Jory made a lunge at Duncan, which the older man easily side stepped. Drawing a curved blade - it appeared Dalish - Duncan sprang forward, his blade sinking into Jory's chest, piercing his heart. Gasping out, Jory fell to the ground, dead. Duncan bowed his head as he resheathed his knife. "I am sorry, Jory," he whispered.
Alistair had released Adela, and she stepped away from him, but did not make a move to run. She stared at Jory's body for a moment, surprised that Duncan actually killed the man because he was afraid. There is no turning back Duncan had said.
Duncan was speaking to her now. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the Commander, trying to focus on his words. She could not understand them, they seemed garbled and like so much gibberish. Don't panic, she scolded herself as she reached for the chalice Duncan held out to her. Biting her bottom lip, she looked into the cup.
The contents were black, brackish, with a vile odor. Anxiety caught her breath, but she knew if she refused, Duncan would kill her as he had poor Jory. She had no doubt of that. Not his friendship with her mother, not hers with Cailan and Anora, or their own growing friendship would stay his blade. The Grey Wardens did what they had to do to stop a Blight, even if it meant keeping their secrets safe. Now she truly understood why her mother had hated the order so; the secrecy, and what terrible secrets they did, indeed, have. She found she could not even blame Duncan. He would not have known until his own joining. Honorable as he was, with such a strong sense of duty, he would not let any of those secrets out, even to spare someone he may care for.
Taking a breath, she brought the cup to her lips, swallowing the contents. The taste was bitter, and burned down her throat. The burning felt like acid and fire, lightening and frost, twisting its way down her throat. The thought and so I die crossed her mind, and she fought the fear that rose with that thought. Gasping, she fell to the cold stone, where darkness overtook her.
Alistair rushed forward, kneeling beside the prone elf. Duncan watched as he checked her pulse, and noted the relief that spread unchecked over the young man's face. Duncan set the cup down, and allowed himself to feel the same relief. She lived, just as he thought she would.
He frowned as he looked at the bodies of the two men. Daveth's death he had not expected, but he had doubted Jory would have survived even if he had drank of the chalice.
He turned back to see that Alistair had picked the girl up and was holding her in his lap.
"Are you alright here?" he asked the younger man.
Alistair looked up. "If it's all the same to you," he replied, "I'll...I'll just stay here with her until she awakens."
While he normally would not have encouraged such coddling after a joining, Duncan was not about to dissuade the young man. "Of course. I need to find Artan anyway and inform him of the results of the joining." He looked sadly over at the bodies of Jory and Daveth. "And, I'll send someone over to remove the other two before she awakens. She does not need to see that."
Alistair nodded to Duncan and did not watch as he walked away. He turned his eyes back to Adela, brushing a stray lock from her face. He allowed himself a small, almost sad smile as he noted the dirt and blood that remained on her face and in her hair.
She is definitely going to want a bath.
DA:O
"So?" Duncan's huge second asked as he stalked up to his Commander. "Did the li'l lass survive?"
Duncan looked up into the larger man's face and nodded. "That she did my friend."
"Huh." the bear of a man scoffed, "Who'd've thunk it. Scrawny thing like that…" he glanced over at Duncan. "'Course, she probably got her ma's temerity, eh?"
Duncan chuckled. "And then some."
"An' the others?" Artan was frowning. He had a feeling at least one of those men had perished. It was seldom that all recruits survived. And Artan just had a feeling that the squirrelly knight wouldn't have the balls to survive. Duncan confirmed that much, but surprised him when he told him of Daveth's dying.
"Humph!" the big man sighed, "Someone with that guy's nerve I'd've thought would'a lived. He jest seemed to have that survivor's knack." He shrugged. "Got someone cleaning up, eh?" Right to the point, Artan never danced around a subject, even one as unpleasant as removing the bodies of those who died during the joining.
Duncan nodded, pulling the treaties from their pouch and looking them over. "Indeed. Timmins and Reese are doing so now."
Artan scoffed, frowning, "What 'bout that li'l chantry boy?"
Duncan chuckled at that. Alistair was one of the larger men in the Wardens, standing several inches taller than Duncan did. Of course, everyone was small compared to Artan.
"Why ain't he cleanin' up the mess?"
Duncan looked over at the man from under furrowed brows. "He's watching over Adela at the moment."
Well…ain't that interestin'?
Artan stared at his commander for a moment, then suddenly barked out a bellow of a laughter. "Now! Who'd'a thunk it!" Duncan looked up, surprised. "If'n I di'nt know better, I'd be thinking that you planned that."
He laughed harder at Duncan's raised brows. "Now, doncha be tryin' to deny it, you old fool. Yer tryin' to get the li'l boy hooked, ain't ya?" Artan nudged Duncan's shoulder. Well, nudged for Artan is nearly knocking the man off his feet.
Steadying himself, Duncan replied. "And how could I do that, my friend?"
"Pfwt!" he nearly spit. "Now we're all aknowin' yer practically a da to the lad. And, then you come back with a pretty li'l thing, sweet as can be, smart, and brave. I'm fair certain you di'nt bring her back fer yerself," his blue eyes went shrewd. "Or did ya?"
Rolling his eyes, Duncan shook his head. "I've done no such thing, Artan." He looked at his friend. "If Alistair likes the girl, and she likes him as well, then we will count that as a happy coincidence."
"Yeah, yeah," Artan mumbled, walking away to resume his duties. "Wha' ever ya say, boss."
DA:O
Roiling black clouds blocked the sunshine, the smell of blood and death and decay assaulted her senses. Above, a terrible screaming roar shot through the air, vibrating in her ears, making her knees tremble. Staring up, she saw the huge, dark shape of the great dragon swoop down to her, its near skeletal form covered with taut skin. Giant wings beat the air, creating tornadoes in their midst, and its tail lashed behind it maliciously. Shielding her eyes from the maelstrom, Adela rose to her feet, steadying herself against the fierce winds. Then, the dragon reared back, and then lunged at the girl, breathing fire and smoke, lightening and frost….
Screaming, Adela lurched up, holding her head in trembling hands. She felt strong arms wrap around her, a soft, gentle voice speaking soothing words. Steadying her breathing, she swallowed her terror, taking deep breaths while listening to the calm voice.
Still not quite focused or aware of where she was, she glanced around. Oh yes, she thought, the joining.
Jory and Daveth were gone; Duncan stood nearby, watching. She looked up at the young man who held her. A brief moment - a terrible body memory - and she stiffened, jerking her body instinctively away from Alistair. Shaking her head - this is not Vaughan - she tried to force herself to relax, but her body would not obey her mind and remained stiff and unyielding. She felt Alistair twitch in confusion, a questioning look on his fine face, but he released her and stood.
Duncan, seeing that she was awake, walked over to the pair as Alistair helped Adela to her feet.
"How do you feel?" Alistair asked, holding her hand, concern in his voice.
She nodded, finding it hard to find her voice. What was that she saw? She swallowed, and spoke, "I'm…I'm fine. A terrible dream, that's all."
Duncan and Alistair both nodded. "You will find that you will have these dreams often." Duncan put his hand to her chin and tipped her head up. "There are a great many things you will learn about what it is to be a Grey Warden over the months to come."
She nodded. "More secrets, I suppose," she replied, frowning deeply.
"Indeed." Duncan acknowledged, his eyes searching her face. "Take a few moments. Then join me for a meeting. You will find us to the west."
What? "What meeting?" she asked, strength returning, she pulled her hands from Alistair's grip and stood facing her Commander.
"A strategy meeting with the king and Teryn Loghain," Duncan frowned. "I am not certain why they requested your presence, however."
Grimacing, she looked down at herself. Still dirty. "I don't suppose I have time for a bath?"
Duncan noted the disgust in the girl's voice. If he had his way, she would be on her way to the bathhouse and then to bed. But, as it was, with both the king and teryn requesting her presence…"I'm afraid not quite yet, little lady."
"Before I forget," Alistair was saying, pulling an amulet and chain from his side pouch. "It's tradition that each new Warden receives one of these amulets. It contains a bit of the blood used at the joining." He fastened the amulet to the chain and then slipped it over Adela's head. "To remember those who didn't make it this far."
The girl held up the amulet. Emblazoned on its shiny surface was the emblem of the Grey Wardens: a rearing griffon.
Duncan was turning to leave. "Wait, Duncan," she called, hurrying to his side. "I'm ready to go now."
Duncan studied her face carefully. It was obvious the girl was quite shaken, and he felt that it was more than just the dream. However, they had never spoken of it before, and now was not the time to broach the subject. "Are you certain?" He felt a great deal of pride as she resolutely nodded her head. He motioned for her to go ahead. She took a step forward, and then turned back to Alistair.
"Thank you, Alistair," she said, giving him a tremulous smile. "For staying with me."
Alistair smiled widely. "Anytime."
She turned back to Duncan and followed him to the strategy meeting.
DA:O
The pair headed toward the war council area, where Cailan and several others stood. When Adela spotted Loghain, she had an almost unconscious thought to fix her hair. Grimacing at the stiff feel, she let her hands fall to her sides. Nothing short of a good, hot soak was going to make her hair resemble anything shy of a bloody helmet. Frowning, shoving aside any hopes of protecting her vanity, the girl followed the Grey Warden Commander.
Cailan was the first to take note of their entrance. He offered Duncan a wide smile, but his eyes widened and the smile fell when he saw Adela and the bloody, dirty shape she was in.
The young king's reaction at the sight of the elven woman captured the attention of Loghain, who was bent over a topographical map depicting the Ostagar ruins in great detail. The teryn's eyes narrowed at her sorry state, casting a malevolent glare at her commander.
Adela rolled her eyes at both men, raising her hands. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she sighed, "All of this mess - not mine." She grinned - actually grinned - as she said that. It was true. Despite these two men - wonderful though they were - trying to convince her and anyone else who would listen that she was not a warrior, she had come back from the Wilds virtually unscathed and covered with the blood of many darkspawn that had fallen to her bow and blades. She hoped these two would finally see that she could take care of herself.
Cailan's horrified expression eased, but when she looked at Loghain, she could tell he was not convinced nor calmed. If anything, he seemed angrier. Ah, well, she thought, I'll just have to deal with that later.
As Duncan and Adela took their places opposite Cailan and Loghain at the table, others walked in. One, an elderly woman with a perpetual scowl of self-importance, dressed in elaborate chantry robes, strolled in, flanked by several Templars. Adela knew immediately that this was the Grand Cleric, for she had seen her often at the Denerim Chantry.
The other was a squirrelly looking man dressed in heavily embroidered mage robes with a bald head and his own air of self-importance. Obviously a mage.
The two glared openly at each other as they took opposite stances to the side as the king, teryn and Warden Commander discussed the upcoming battle.
Truthfully, Adela found the meeting rather boring. She had no knowledge of strategy, and could offer no advice or suggestions. Duncan, Cailan and Loghain discussed, argued and strategize as the Grand Cleric and mage continued to scowl and glare at each one another.
Adela did notice that occasionally the Grand Cleric's attention would shift to her, an obvious look of disgust and disapproval clear on her overly wrinkled, sour face. Either she's unhappy an elf is here, Adela thought without any humor, or she, too thinks I really need a bath.
Cailan and Loghain were currently arguing about the front lines and the possibility of waiting for the Orlesian forces to arrive. Loghain was adamant that they did not need the Orlesians and had actually called Cailan a fool. Adela stared at the Teryn. Never had she heard him use that tone of voice with Cailan, ever. The king himself seemed a bit taken aback by Loghain's attitude, and, in a firm voice, proceeded to remind the Teryn just who the king was here.
Adela glanced over at Duncan; he too seemed surprised by the turn the conversation was taking.
"Who will light the beacon?" Cailan was asking.
Loghain shrugged. "I have an idea as to who should go and light it. It's not a dangerous mission, but it is vital." The Teryn's eyes rested upon Adela. "I think Adela should be given that task."
Cailan chuckled. "Now there is something we both can agree to." The king turned to Duncan. "And Alistair should accompany her."
A strange, veiled look passed over Loghain's face, but it was gone, replaced with his usual scowl. "Fine. So long as the beacon is lit as it should."
The meeting was concluded shortly thereafter. As Adela passed nearby Loghain, the Teryn walked over to her, easily meeting her strides. "Adela," he said in low tones. "I wish to speak with you." He looked up and then back into her eyes. "I'll send a messenger along to fetch you."
The elf looked up in his icy eyes, a questioning frown on her face. She nodded, saying, "I really need a bath, first."
Loghain chuckled, stepping back to look at her. She was covered in blood and dirt, locks of her hair encased in blood. "That you most certainly do, dear girl." With that, he nodded to her and left.
Duncan had come up to her side by then, his questioning eyes following Loghain. The pair resumed their walk to the camp in silence.
Alistair was not at the site, and so Adela did take that opportunity to retrieve her toiletries and went to the bathhouse. The servants had made a point of assuring there would always be a hot bath available behind the partitions. Grimacing as she peeled off her filthy armor, the girl sighed as she sank into the steaming water. Ducking down, she fully immersed herself in the water, letting it soak into her hair. Picking up her bar of soap, the girl washed herself, letting her bath take as long as it took the water to cool.
Washed, dressed in a clean tunic and breeches, her hair combed back in a damp curtain down her back, she gingerly carried her armor back to camp and tossed her pack back into her tent.
She was unsure as to why Loghain asked to speak with her. She was already fully aware he was not pleased with her joining the Wardens and she truly hoped this was not another lecture. At this point, where she had passed the joining, she felt that the matter needed to be put to rest.
She combed her fingers through her hair (so nice and clean), sat before the fire, picked up a cloth and began to scrub the dirt and blood from the armor.
Her hair was almost dry, curling around her face, a shimmering wave of blonde down her back. She had just finished oiling her armor when Loghain's messenger arrived.
With a sigh, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose, the elf roe and followed the young man to Loghain's tent. The guard standing duty was different from the one who was there the first time she visited with the Teryn, and this one greeted her with a slight nod of the head. The messenger bowed slightly, taking his leave. Smiling, the elven woman stepped through the flap and into the cool, dark interior of Loghain's tent.
She very nearly screamed as strong hands enclosed about her shoulders, pulling her forward.
