Ready? Set? I own nothing save for Adela (well, 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 some twists to make things fit to my story. I have also posted a new story DragonAge: The Halla which tells of the first time Adaia, Maric, Rowan & Loghain meet. Each chapter will be a POV from each of them. I'd like to say it's required reading, but, it really isn't. Just an idea Windchime68 tossed my way, so I ran with it.

As always, thank you all for the reviews, alerts and favorites. Biff McLaughlin, mutive, zevgirl, Windchime68, Arsinoe de Blassenville. Every word is a great boost to my ego and momentum. And I'm loving the alerts/favs!

DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn

Chapter 10

It was late afternoon, nearing early eve. There was a heavy, moist feel in the air, and Alistair was certain it was going to rain. Wonderful, he thought as he wandered about the camp. Just what we need the night of battle. He frowned, staring out toward where the rest of the Wardens were camped, lifting his gaze further to stare in the direction where the main battle would occur. He imagined fighting not just the darkspawn but mud…and having it in his boots, on his shield, in his eyes, in his hair…

Feeling uncomfortable in his splint mail armor, the young man continued his walk, trying to ease his nerves, wondering if he should just remove his armor for now. He sighed. Considering how long it took to take it off and put it back on, and then get reacclimated to it's weight and the feel…no, he'll just suffer for now. There'll be plenty of time after the battle...His sight found the designated battle area again.

This would be his first real battle. Certainly, he had fought darkspawn before, packs of wolves, and once a small group of bandits. But, those had been small battles, over in minutes. Never had he experienced a battle in a war. And that was what they were in, whether Cailan or Loghain or any of the others would admit it. The Blight was upon them, and that meant they were at war. Going into battle, thrown right into the hoard, surrounded by foes at each turn…he longed to prove himself in such a battle. He just couldn't shake the bit of fear and, well okay, he could admit it, terror that rose whenever he thought of it.

His circuit took him back around to the campsite. A quick inspection told him that Adela was not there. Stepping over to the fire, he saw that the flap to her tent was slightly open. He went over and noticed that her armor - now clean and oiled - leaned against the entry, holding the flap open. It's going to rain, he thought as he reached in, tucked the armor further in and closed the flap.

Amber eyes shifted upwards to the sky, watching as the clouds continued to roll in, confirming his belief it was going to rain. He went over to the fire, tossing a few logs to keep it burning bright and high. Pulling his sword and shield off his back, the young man sat down. He was worried about Adela being in battle. She was brave, no one would doubt that. And she seemed to accept her fate in the Wardens readily enough. A frown formed between his brows. But he doubted - very much so - that she would be ready for the upcoming battle. He looked around, hoping that Duncan would just magically appear to tell him that Adela would not be heading into battle, that she would be placed with the archers on the bridge, or kept at camp completely out of harm's way.

Alistair knew his thoughts did the girl no justice, and he felt momentarily ashamed of them. But, if he was to be realistic (that was a good an excuse as any), he had to admit she wasn't all that ready for battle. He sighed. But, is anyone really ready their first time, he had to wonder. He recalled his first fight to the death, the aforementioned bandits. He had been scared near shitless. Yet, he had fought well - after all, it was his life or theirs. And they were bandits. He shook his head, bowing it slightly. Even with that bit of realization, he still could not help but feel more than a little trepidation that the elf would be put smack dab on the front lines with the other Wardens. What use her bow there?

"Bah!" he said, lifting his head and then resuming his search for Duncan.

He saw Duncan approach him, a determined look on his face, a confident stride. And just on cue, Alistair thought wryly as he rose from his seat to great his commander.

DA:O

Rain before the battle…Duncan frowned as his gaze swept upwards to the gathering storm clouds. Not just rain but a storm. How appropriate.

The Warden Commander was pleased that the King and Teryn Loghain had agreed that Adela be the one to light the signal beacon. Despite his belief that she would do well in the Wardens, he did not want to risk her in the battle. She had not the skill or fortitude at this juncture to be on the front lines.

His gaze lowered, sweeping over the camp, coming to rest on the familiar figure of the junior Warden (no, he is not the junior warden any longer). He took a breath, and let it out slowly, resuming his walk toward the camp site.

Alistair, on the other hand, was not going to be happy about being kept out of the fight. How many times had the young man mention his desire to prove himself worthy of the Wardens? The commander shook his dark head. Too often, in his opinion. While he was grateful that Alistair was so adamant about the wardens, he feared that the lad had not yet realized the realty that was being a warden. He's still young, he thought, a different young than I ever was.

"Alistair," the elder man greeted as he entered the campsite, pushing old memories away. He glanced around. "Adela is not back yet?"

He noted a look of confusion mar the younger man's face. "I thought she'd be with you?"

"No such luck," Duncan remarked without humor. "The Teryn had requested a moment of her time." A drop of water splashed upon his hawk like nose, and he squinted up. "I expect her to return shortly."

As intermittent drops of water fell around from, the commander advised the younger warden of his assignment. Alistair's reaction was about what Duncan had expected.

"What!" he demanded incredulously, "I'm not going to be in the battle?"

"Alistair, it's by the king's own request," Duncan tried to soothe.

"Oh?" there was that frown again. "Doesn't he think Adela can do the job? She's quick and able…"

Duncan nodded. "Yes, yes, I know. And, personally, I agree. However, whatever his reasons, those are his orders: You and Adela will go to the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon." The authoritative tone in Duncan's voice left no room for argument. He was pleased Alistair recognized it.

A red-gold brow quirked up. "How did Adela take the news?"

"Quite well, actually. I think she was privately pleased she wouldn't be facing the hoard at this time."

"Hmmm…."

Duncan's gaze went to where Loghain's tent stood. The sprinkle of rain had increased slightly, but could not yet be called actual rain. There were still a few hours before the armies were to get into position, still hours before meeting the hoard of darkspawn that plagued the Wilds.

"Make certain, once the armies move into position, that you and Adela make your way to the tower. Once the beacon is lit, I want you both to remain and help hold the tower," he commanded, "And here," he handed Alistair a leather pouch. "Make certain Adela keeps these on her at all times." and he turned to leave. Alistair accepted the pouch without question.

"Duncan," Alistair spoke, putting out a hand to rest on his commander's shoulder. "May the Maker watch over you."

He nodded in response. "And may He watch over you and Adela as well, my boy." He patted the young man's shoulder noticing as Alistair straightened under the attention. Giving him a small smile, the Commander of the Grey walked away.

DA:O

A noise at the entrance to the tent jolted him awake, startling up from an uneasy rest filled with dark shapes and harsh whispers. The light shifted, and a small, slender form entered. Quickly, with grace and skill that easily belied his size and age, he reached out with his strong hands and grabbed hold of the intruder by the shoulders.

A started "yelp" in a very soft, feminine voice surprised him, and his grip only tightened, the need to hurt racing through his veins. He suppressed the violent urge and struggled with the small form. There was another gasp, and the struggling figure twisted agilely in his hands and a foot lashed out and connected with his knee. A curse erupted from his lips, and he released his hold. Eyes now adjusted to the dim light that creeped in from the slightly open entrance, he was able to make out the small form of an elven woman. Lurching forward, he grabbed hold of the figure, wrapping one arm under her neck, the other around her waist.

"Adela," he breathed in her ear, feeling her body stiffen against him, "Relax…."

"Loghain?" She tried to turn her head to look at him. His hands fell away and she turned to face him. "Why did you grab me?" she asked, breathless. "Why is it so dark in here?"

There was a moment of silence, his mind in a confused haze. He heard his guard shift outside, "Teryn? My Lord?" the guard called.

Frowning, Loghain called back, "All is well, Geoffrey. Adela merely tripped." He listened as his guard returned to his post.

He crossed the room, and pulled the hood from the nearby lantern, filling the room with light. Loghain frowned at her, and he heard her gasp as her eyes adjusted and settled upon his half naked form.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Adela remained where she stood, confusion marring her lovely face "You asked me to come here," she spoke in those same gentle tones, ones he had heard her use to placate others so handily with. "You even had a messenger fetch me."

"I must have forgotten," he mumbled, his eyes focused on the elf before him. He shook his head, bringing a hand to his forehead. He had asked her here? Why could he not remember? Why would he ask her here?

"Loghain?"

He opened his eyes, raising his head. The girl - no, not a girl. A young woman - looked concerned. He ran his hands through his black hair, very much aware of Adela's presence in the room, aware of his shirtless condition. Very much aware as she took a step closer.

That feeling came over him. One he had fought against in smaller amounts whenever he was with this girl - this woman. But, as with all of his emotions of late, this one was urgent, strong, an almost violent need that suddenly sprang upon him. The urge to act was overwhelming…

And he moved, reaching out, grabbing the startled woman, pulling her to him. He bent his head to her, his mouth pressing against hers. He felt her startled gasp against his mouth, felt her body stiffen as he pulled her closer. Tiny hands pushed against his chest, and she struggled against the stronger man. All thought seemed to leave him; he fell within himself, no longer aware of what he did. Oblivion seemed to take hold for a moment, but slowly, carefully, he was able to claw his way up and out. He had pushed Adela away from him - or maybe she had managed to do so herself - but his hands remained grasping her arms - tightly. He saw fear on her face, in her eyes and he flinched. Moreover, mixed with that fear was something else. A look he would never have expected on her face, of all faces. He took a deep breath, once again fully in control of himself, his wants, desires….all of those were firmly back down, tucked away. Now was not the time for this.

"Adela…" he began, but stopped. The sound of his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears. What could he say? He had known the elven woman since she was a child. Nothing in their shared history would have given him any cause…any reason to believe that this was what she would want. Chagrined, his head bowed. He was surprised when a small, delicate hand touched his cheek. A sharp intake of breath, and he raised his eyes.

Adela was watching him carefully, her bluest eyes fixed upon his face. He wondered, briefly, what she must think of him. His surprise was complete as she stepped forward, rose on her toes, and gently kissed him on the lips. He frowned, puzzled, but before he could respond to the contact, she stepped back, equally confused, the fear still on her face, that look upon her face that screamed 'flee'. But now he understood that other expression.

Desire.

He wanted to take hold of her again, press her slender body against his, and give in to that desire…that need and want. He wanted to feel his pulse speed up and that light headedness that accompanies the rush of adrenaline when that feeling overwhelms. He wanted…

He did not, could not. That fear he saw…

"Adela," he breathed her name hoarsely, stepping away before he did something foolish - again - something neither of them seemed quite ready for yet. She seemed surprised by her own reaction and stepped back as well.

"This is foolish," the teryn growled, watching as her right brow rose. "We've no time to…"

"I know, Loghain," Adela said in her soft voice. "I had no idea…" She hung her head, at an obvious loss as to what to do, or even where to turn her eyes. And he could read it so clearly on her face, her body language. She felt shame.

Outside of the tent, the camp was alive with shouts and the sounds of soldiers readying themselves for battle. Inside that tent the silence that had fallen was nearly as loud and penetrating. Reaching out, Loghain took hold of her hands, pulling her gently towards him. He bent his head, and she raised her eyes. Nodding with decision, Loghain spoke.

"Now is not the time for this," he stated again, in a stronger voice. "But know that once this is all done, you and I need to discuss it further." He smiled as she raised that brow again.

She nodded her agreement. And turned as though to leave.

Another decision made.

"Hold a moment, Adela," he turned away and walked to the cordoned off chamber to the back of his tent. From his trunk, he pulled out a small wooden box. Cocking his head, he listened, hoping she remained, almost fearing that she would. He opened the box and pulled out an amulet he had had created, just for her, just prior to coming to Ostagar. He meant to give it to her upon his return (he used the excuse of her birthday as the reason for such a gift). He told himself that he had brought it with him as he felt no where would be better to keep it until then. Sodding old fool, came the harsh thought, you know that is just an excuse.

Palming it, he took a deep breath, calming his nerves, his hand going to the pocket of his breeches, feeling the familiar shape therein.

He had no idea how he could not remember asking her to visit him. He could not explain the surge of desire that had called for him to take hold of her, to take her. He looked down at his closed hand. But, he knew that it was no random thing. There was a reason he did not want her here, did not want her part of the Wardens. Wanted her safely back in Denerim, where she and Anora could keep one another company until he and Cailan returned. However, he would still not acknowledge that, could not acknowledge it while the battle still loomed ahead, while there was every chance neither he nor Adela would survive.

And so he stepped back through the curtain, determined not to say another word. He surprised himself by being pleased she waited.

Standing before her, feeling rather like the young man he had been far too long ago instead of the old (lecherous, some would say) man he now was, he took one of her hands and placed within it the silver charm he had created just for her. They didn't say another word, aware that all talk would need to wait until after this battle. With a nod, her eyes going to her still clenched hand, Adela turned. Loghain watched as she stepped out of the tent, leaving him to his overwhelming emotions.

And a burgeoning headache.

DA:O

Stepping away from the tent, she took a few steps, and then turned, staring with open confusion at the tent. What just happened? She asked herself. Still clutching the charm Loghain had placed in her hand, still not taking a look at it, she walked slowly back to her camp.

She was confused and upset with herself. She had thought she had gotten over her infatuation with Loghain long ago. She had to as she knew that she would have to marry another elf; there could not ever be a future with a human, especially one as highly placed as Loghain. She snorted. She had never imagined that the teryn could ever have those feelings for her.

Yet, she remembered the way he had grabbed hold of her. So unlike the way Vaughan had held her, and taken possession of her. She shuddered. She had felt fear, almost overwhelming, when Loghain had first put his hands on her and pulled her to him. And when his lips first met hers, all she could remember was Vaughan's lips on hers, seeking possession - ownership - of her. And how he had taken it.

She furiously shook her head. Loghain was not Vaughan. But Loghain had initiated the kiss with a demanding start. And in her panic she had fought against him. He held her tight and the kiss changed into something that had no reminded her of Vaughan. Yet, she still fought and pushed away, when Loghain had suddenly pushed her back. The look in his eyes had startled her, terrified her. They were his eyes still, not the cloudy, murky gaze she thought she had seen days before. But they held an intensity she was not able to identify. She clutched the token in her hand tighter and continued to walk toward the campsite.

Alistair sat before the fire, staring into the flames.

Her frown deepened. And what kind of a woman was she? She wondered. She had been flirting with the young Warden earlier. And now all she could think of was Loghain's lips upon hers? Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She could not dispel the bit of disgust that rose up in her chest. She would have to sort this out, she knew that. She knew her feelings for Loghain were strong - she had known him a long time. Had had years for her infatuation to grew. And here was Alistair. A nice man, who obviously liked her. And she found she liked him as well.

She resumed her walking.

And, if she was to be pragmatic about it and use her head, with Loghain what could she have? Maybe be his mistress? If things were to progress that far even? With Alistair…no, stop that! She scolded herself. You are getting far too ahead of yourself.

After the battle, she decided. She would not need to make any kind of decision regarding anything until after the battle.

The charm in her hand pinched her flesh as she tightened her grip. Opening her palm, her breath caught in her throat as she gazed with disbelieving eyes.

There, wrought in fine silver, etched in gold, was a rendition of the ivory stylized halla she had carved for Anora years ago.

DA:O

The human woman watched with open contempt as the elven woman - the knife eared whore - walked away from her Lord's tent. She had never understood Teryn Loghain's fascination with the elf, although the woman believed perhaps some of King Maric's preference for the beasts may have rubbed off a bit. After all, Teryn Loghain had also been a friend to this elf's mother.

She frowned, the gesture making her plain face seem harsh, stark against the darkening skies. Her countenance was plain, her dark brown hair pulled back in severe bun at the back of her head, brown eyes that took in everything around them but gave nothing back. Tall, muscled like a man, with long legs and large, rough hands, there was nothing feminine about this woman.

Forcing her eyes from the retreating form of the elf, she turned to her lord's tent. Small drops of rain began to fall from the ever darkening skies, and she blinked. She remembered when she had first met Loghain, alone and beset by bandits. She, a poor farmer's daughter, had aided him. And he in return took her away from that life - a life that would have meant virtual servitude on that dirt farm, with the only prospects being to perhaps marry another dirt farmer. Instead, she rose in the ranks and was now commander to Maric's Shield, His lieutenant.

She noticed an elven servant approaching, a tray laden with food for the teryn. Nodding to herself, she approached the elf, pulling a wine skin from her hip. She spoke briefly with the elf, placing the skin on the tray. The elf nodded once, and stepped in front of Loghain's guard. The guard allowed her entrance.

Cauthrien watched as the elf disappeared into the tent. At least this knife-ear knows her place. She did not leave her spot until the elf left, tray empty. Nodding, the commander of Maric's Shield turned to inspect her troops.

Battle would begin soon.

DA:O

Alistair was pouting. Adela could not believe it. He was actually pouting. And, well, he whined a little, too. He noticed her grinning at him and his pout grew deeper. Laughing, she playfully swatted his arm, her own concerns momentarily forgotten with the young man's antics.

"Come now, Alistair," she teased her fellow Warden. "It won't be so bad."

"Oh, yes, right," he responded, that snide sarcastic tone fully in his voice. "Instead of being on the front lines with my brethren, I get to light a fire. " He frowned. "Hey look!" he picked up a piece of wood and tossed it into the campfire. "I can light a fire!"

Raising her face up, letting the rain that continued to fall land on her cheeks, blinking as the drops caught in her long lashes, she laughed again. "Well, at least we can be out of the rain."

"Not helping," he called over. She looked over and saw the smile on his face.

She grinned back at him, and sat down on the log. Patting the space beside her, she voiced an idea she had. "You know, Alistair. There's nothing saying that we can't go to the tower before the start of battle." Alistair sat down, looking at her with interest. "We could go sooner, take a leisurely walk to the top, and pick a comfortable spot to watch the battle and await the signal to light the beacon."

Alistair was looking into the fire. "Well?" Adela nudged him with her shoulder. She hoped he found that her idea had merit. She really did not want to just sit and wait here. She wanted to do something, even if just meant walking up a few flights of stairs and watch something other than Loghain's tent.

The young man turned to her, watching her as she gazed into the flames. "You know," he said smoothly, "that may not be a bad idea." He looked at her. "And even though we're essentially playing errand boy…" he grinned as she looked at him "and girl, you may still want to put your armor on."

Pleased he agreed, she slapped her hands to her knees and rose, ducking into her tent to put on her leather armor.

A few moments later, garbed in her armor, tucking the charm Loghain gave her into the breast of her leather top, with her bow and quiver upon her back, daggers at her hip, the elf exited her tent.

DA:O

The rains had come, and in full force. Thunder boomed and lightening crackled against the black sky as the downpour of acidic rain harried the soldiers who prepared for battle, creating instant morasses of mud, running beneath armor. While the warriors tried to maintain an air of stoicism as they prepared for battle, the harsh change in the weather was an ill omen to them all.

The elf and human made their away across the bridge that connected the main army camp with the Tower of Ishal. The rain pelted down, slapping Adela's face, soaking her hair and her armor, making it heavier. She stole a glance over to her companion - he didn't fare much better. At least he has a helm to protect his eyes, she thought glumly. The pair quickened their pace, stopping briefly to watch as the soldiers began to file onto the battlefield, organizing into groups. The hounds had been pulled from the kennels and stood beside their masters. Archers began to line up along the walls of the bridge and other battlements surrounding the field. The pair exchanged worried glances. Soon.

Unbelievably, the rain started to come down harder. Cursing, Alistair took a firm hold of Adela's hand and practically dragged her across the bridge. At least inside the tower they would be out of this torrential downpour.

Alistair grinned as he said, "Maybe it's a good thing I won't be in the battle!" he joked as they neared the tower.

Shaking her head, the elf opened her mouth in reply, but was cut short by the shouting of two men approaching them: a mage and guard.

Fear was plastered on their faces as they told the Wardens that the darkspawn had infiltrated the tower. Without a word, barely a glance, the pair of Wardens bolted off to the tower, followed closely behind by the guard and mage.

Oh sod it! Adela thought as they came upon their first group of darkspawn, outside the tower! Notching an arrow, the elf let it fly, not watching as it hit its target in the throat. She was too busy notching another for flight, aiming at an archer that had a bead on Alistair.

Alistair let out a war cry, "For the Grey Wardens!" and attacked the nearest hurlock. He punched out quickly once with his shield, catching the creature solidly in the face. As the beast staggered back, the Grey Warden swung his sword from the side, striking the hurlock at the chest. Twisting the blade slightly, changing his stance just a bit, he then angled the tip and drove it fully into the monster's throat. It fell from his blade, gurgling.

With the other guard taking down a genlock, the mage alternating casting healing and offensive spells, the four easily decimated the small group of darkspawn.

The next group of darkspawn was a bit more organized, considering an Alpha Genlock led them. The mage found the need to resort to keeping the archer and warriors on their feet and spent much of this battle casting healing and regenerative spells. The first time one of the healing spells had been cast upon Adela (she had to abandon her bow for her blades as she was attacked by a huge hurlock, and it knocked her down, cutting a deep gash across her midsection) she was initially startled by the warm, tingling feeling that overcame her. The tower guard had cut the beast down, and she pushed herself to her feet, watching as the blood stopped pouring from her wound and the skin knitted itself together. Casting a grateful look to the mage, she picked up her bow and began shooting down the genlock archers who stood on rises.

DA:O

Alistair thrust his sword into the alpha's chest, grimacing as the beast still had fight left in it to sweep out at his head with its axe. The large man ducked, his sword catching on a rib. Loathe releasing the blade, Alistair twisted, yanking the sword to the side. The darkspawn screamed out in fury and agony, trying to right itself for another swing at the warden. The blade came loose, and Alistair stepped away, bringing his shield up, deflecting the clumsy blow.

Panting, backing up, the two adversaries eyed each other. The alpha was bleeding profusely, and Alistair knew it was only a matter of time before it gave up the ghost. "Just die already!" he shouted as he lunged forward, sword tip leading. The huge darkspawn jerked its head back, avoiding the blade aimed at its throat. Alistair quickly followed up the strike with a shield bash to its chest, opening the wound further. Drawing back, he plunged the sword into its chest again, and this time, the thing had the grace to just die.

Alistair felt the family tingle of rejuvenating magic course through his limbs and, with a feeling of renewal, glanced back to pinpoint his companions' positions.

The mage was standing back from everyone, and the tower guard was running toward the human Warden. Alistair's light brown eyes narrowed in concern. Where was Adela? He then noticed that the mage seemed to be working more magic. Running to the top of the ramp he watched as Adela slowly rose to her feet, rubbing her stomach with a shaking hand. He watched as she gave the mage a shaky smile of thanks, and then turn to trudge up the ramp.

"Are you alright?" he asked as she came up alongside him, her bow back in hand, an arrow being pulled from her quiver.

"I'm fine, Alistair," she said in her quiet voice. "I am thinking we should ask Duncan to recruit mages into the Wardens." She swept out a hand to acknowledge the mage (what was his name?) as he passed her, a grin on his face as he heard her comment. "They are certainly handy to have in a fight!"

Chuckling, the human warden replied, "I'm certain Duncan would agree with you," he ran a hand over his face, wiping the rain from his eyes. "Come on. Now that we've cleared the darkspawn from the grounds, let's go see what's in store for us inside."

DA:O

Duncan and Artan stood with their Wardens, surveying the scene where this battle would be held. It was a few hours passed nightfall and the rain had eased only slightly. The warm humidity of earlier in the day had been replaced with the crisp chill of an autumn downpour. Artan, with his heavy beard and mane of hair about his head and his leather and fur armor barely took note of the downpour. Duncan had to keep wiping the water from his eyes and grimaced more than once as water ran down the back of his armor.

Artan, noticing his commander shift, chuckled. "Now, if'n you weren't so intent on bein' the pretty boy," the huge barbarian teased his old friend, "an' grew some hair, ya wouldn't be wiping the rainfall from yer eyes ev'ry minute."

Duncan chuckled back at his friend. "I would never dream of out beautying you, my friend."

While the two bantered back and forth, each of them turned their eyes back to their fellow Grey Wardens. Barely two dozen. That was what they had in Fereldan to face this hoard. Neither the king nor Teryn Loghain had been truly interested in awaiting reinforcements from Orlais. Artan had growled out his frustration to Duncan, but both men knew that at this point there was nothing they could do. If the Blight was not stopped here, it would overtake Fereldan and then cross the borders of Orlais.

And it would take decades for the land to recover, if the land would recover. The loss of life made both man shudder at the prospect.

Still, they were Wardens, and it was their duty - above all else - to stop the Blight, at all costs.

There was one thing that had been bothering Artan, and he felt now was as good a time to speak of it as any.

He took a deep breath. He didn't really want to broach this subject, but felt the need to. "Boss," Duncan turned toward him. "Tell me agin why the Orlesian Wardens ain't here?" Duncan's brow rose and Artan held up huge hands. "I be knowin' the king thar and teryn don't be wantin' the chevaliers. But the Wardens, too?" He shook his shaggy head. "Makes no sense."

Frowning, Duncan turned his head back to survey the battlefield. It was true, neither Cailan nor Loghain wanted the chevaliers, and Duncan had felt that he had gained the permission to have the Orlesian wardens here. But, after weeks without an answer from Orlais, the Fereldan commander was unsure if his understanding had been correct. Perhaps neither man wanted any Orlesian present - be they chevalier, Warden or servant. For this battle, it was all a moot point anyway. What concerned him now was his second bringing up the question. Did he have doubts in the Orlesian Wardens?

Duncan sighed. He knew Artan was a man who did not trust many. It had taken a long time for the friendship between the two men to grow into the complete trust they each held for each other. And Artan was one who only trusts in their Fereldan Wardens. He had found the Wardens of other countries to be too closely tied to their respective seats of national power.

The noises of the Wardens talking, making final adjustments to armor and weapons, combined with the nervous murmuring and movements of the gathered forces only served as a backdrop to the noise of the falling rain. Duncan raised his face to the sky, leaving off the conversation with his second for another day. His silence told Artan this much and the big man went about checking his own equipment, and then gave a high, piercing whistle. Those who were nearby and not Wardens glanced over as a huge bear ambled out of the trees, making its way to the Warden's side. Artan spared the startled soldiers a big grin, and then the ranger bent down to scratch affectionately behind its ears.

Leave it to Artan, Duncan chuckled to himself, as he patted the huge man on the shoulders and then took his leave to find the king.

DA:O

This was supposed to be an easy, safe job, Adela griped as she let loose another arrow from her dwindling supply. The hurlock she aimed at - in all its mottled gray-green skin, skull-faced glory - fell over dead. Alistair and the guard - Tomas, that was his name - scoured the room, making certain that the darkspawn that lay upon the ground were dead.

She glanced over at the mage - okay, I have to stop thinking of him as 'the mage'. I will learn his name - and noted his grim smile, assuring her he was well. Nodding, she walked over to the corpses that sprouted her arrows and began carefully removing them from the bodies. She was pleased that many were usable.

The group had fought its way through several rooms on three levels full of darkspawn. They were tired, having many injuries, the more severe being taken care of by the mage, leaving the least serious to mend on their own. Alistair slumped onto the stairs that led to the top of the tower, Adela sitting next to him. She leaned her head against his shoulder and Alistair put his arm about her.

"We're almost there," he assured the small elf, smiling down at her. She returned his smile, nodded, and then rose to her feet.

"Okay, but if there are any more emissaries or alphas or archers up there - even the sign of a darkspawn mouse, I'm going to take a vacation!"

Laughing at his fellow Warden, Alistair rose and motioned for Tomas to follow, Adela next, followed closely by The Mage.

The four climbed the stairwell, and Alistair pushed open the door. As soon as the door, opened, the group could hear unmistakable crunching noises, followed by loud grunts. Confused, the two Wardens climbed up the few steps beyond the door, lying down in an attempt to remain concealed. What they saw was something neither of them was prepared for.

It's back to the door, the huge horned thing appeared to be eating something. To their combined horror they identified a pair of legs - human legs - sticking from the side of its face, most likely in its mouth.

"What is that?" Adela's whispered question was intense with terror. Alistair knew from stories told by the other Wardens. Standing easily fifteen feet tall, with massive, twisting horns on its head, this was an ogre. The largest and most fearfully strong darkspawn. Alistair pulled his terrified companion back to the others at the landing below.

Pulling everyone into a tight huddle, Alistair explained their situation in careful, even, quiet tones. The mage and tower guard looked as terrified as Adela did, as terrified as Alistair himself felt. They had to neutralize this threat, quickly.

"Tomas, you and I will approach it from the rear," Alistair instructed, "keeping as quiet as we can. Adela," he turned to the elf, "once we strike, fire your arrows." She nodded. "Just keep firing. Tomas and I will keep its attention on us, you just shoot wherever you can hit. And, Ser Mage," he hadn't learned the mage's name, yet, "your job is to keep Tomas and I on our feet." the mage nodded. With a nod, Alistair and Tomas rose, and carefully and quietly made their way toward the beast which was, fortunately, still enjoying its snack.

DA:O

Adela felt like she was going to vomit. She'd felt terror before, but this surpassed anything she had ever felt. Not witnessing her mother's death, not her kidnapping and rape by Vaughan, not even the joining had placed such foreboding in her heart. She admired Alistair's courage, and was thankful for his taking charge of the situation. She watched as the two warriors made their way to the beast. She turned to the mage.

"Ser Mage," she whispered, moving close to the man. "I fear I have been rather rude to you and not asked your name."

The mage smiled. "Albus," he responded, obviously pleased with the question.

Smiling weakly, pulling her bow off her shoulder, reading an arrow, the elf said, "I'm Adela. I want to thank you for your help."

Albus merely nodded. "It has been an honor fighting by your side, Lady Warden."

Adela smiled at that. She liked that, Lady Warden. "After this, how about I buy you a good, stiff drink?" They both moved to the top of the stairs.

Chuckling, bringing the healing spells he knew he'd need to mind, pulling out a few vials of lyrium potion to keep him fueled, Albus replied, "I would very much like that."

Taking a deep breath, Adela stepped off the stairs, moving carefully for optimal range. How did the damned thing get up here? She had to wonder. It's far too big for the door!

Alistair and Tomas had managed to approach almost right to the ogre, their shields up before their faces, swords held up, ready to strike high and hard. Alistair seemed to change his mind, and lowered the blade. Then, the two sprang forth.

Tomas jumped up, driving his blade deeply into the creature's lower back, while Alistair went low and cut across the back of its heel, trying to hamstring it. The skin was tougher than he thought and the blade, while cutting deeply and causing injury, did not cause the desired handicap.

With a roar, the ogre leaped up, immediately ready for battle. Its eyes fixed on Alistair, who was the largest and heavier armored of the group. It lowered its head and charged forth, seeking to ram the man from his feet. Alistair backpedaled, keeping his shield and sword up, swiping at the lowered and exposed forehead of the beast. He managed to avoid being trampled and also gained a hit. Blood poured from the gash on its forehead and into its eyes.

Tomas, meanwhile, had worked his way around to the back of the monstrosity, and stabbed again, seeking a kidney to sink his blade into. The ogre's height was a disadvantage to Tomas's strike, and he again only managed a deep hit to its lower back.

Adela kept firing arrows, striking a hit in its shoulders and chest. She focused only on the beast and getting arrows that would cause it harm. Every arrow counted as her quickly dwindling supply would not last long.

Albus tossed a healing spell at Alistair, who had just received a hit from the ogre, tossing the young Warden across the room. Satisfied, he then cast a rejuvenation spell upon the elven archer, then drank down a lyrium potion.

An arrow (lucky shot, Adela thought as she notched another) struck the ogre's left eye, driving deeply. Bellowing in pain and rage, the ogre lifted its head, spying Adela. Murmuring for Albus to get out of sight, the nimble elf scampered along the wall, to the opposite side. The ogre turned, following her movements, and she let the arrow she had been holding loose and it struck the ogre in the cheek. Enraged, the beast rushed forth, one massive hand reaching out to grab hold of the elf.

Cursing, she dove forward, under the reaching hand, between its legs, and behind it. Tossing her bow behind her, she grabbed her daggers and drove both deeply into the back of the monster's previously injured ankle, cutting the tendon.

With a bellow, the beast fell to one knee, sweeping out with its hands, seeking the pesky elf. She rolled away from it, sheathing her daggers, and stood by her bow, feeling Albus' rejuvenating spell fall over her. She reached down and picked up her bow, notching an arrow as both Alistair and Tomas raced passed her.

Tomas, now no longer at a height disadvantage, drove his sword again and again into the back of the beast, cutting deeply into one of its kidneys. Hollering in renewed pain, the ogre struggled to rise, but its injured ankle would not hold its weight. Tomas danced aside and drove his blade into the other side, again hitting the kidney.

Alistair stabbed into its exposed side, withdrawing his sword, and bashing the kneeling darkspawn in the face with his shield, driving Adela's arrow deeper into its eye. Grimly, Alistair faced the beast as it tried to regain its footing. Shouting out his war cry, Alistair lunged forward, his blade leading. Leaping from the ground, the Warden drove his blade deeply into the ogre's chest, driving it forcefully into its heart.

Adela continued shooting arrows into its back until the beast fell, dead, to the floor.

Breathing heavily, the four stared numbly at the creature they had felled. Albus, the least physically fatigued of the group, looked at Adela with a wide grin. "My Lady Warden," he said, "I do believe you owe me a drink."

The others stared at him a moment, and then laughed.

DA:O

Sinking to his knees, Alistair tried to catch his breath. Maker! If he never had to face another one of those things again in his life it would be too soon! He looked over at his three companions. They had each done well - extremely well. He decided to ask Duncan to extend an invitation to Tomas and Ser Mage (he still hadn't learned the man's name!) a place in the Wardens.

Then, concerned they had missed the signal, Alistair pushed himself to his feet and raced over to the window facing over the battlefield. He felt Adela move to his side.

There, on the battlefield, the armies of Fereldan had engaged the darkspawn. He looked over to where he knew the Wardens would be. No, the Warden banner was still up. They had not missed the signal.

"We should probably sit down and rest a bit," Alistair instructed the others as he turned around, placed his back to the window and slid to the floor. Adela moved down and sat next to him.

"I've been thinking," the elf said after she had sufficiently caught her breath. Alistair turned to look at her. "These darkspawn - the ones just outside the tower and within - they had to come from somewhere." She paused. "They didn't come from the Wilds or the Highway. Someone guarding at each gate would have noticed. And someone would have noticed this many darkspawn wandering the camp."

Alistair nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, I think that after we light the beacon, we four venture to the lower levels of the tower and clean those out. I saw stairs leading down when we entered." She looked into Alistair's eyes and the man felt his heart skip. How could she have such blue eyes?

Alistair thought on it. It was a good idea. Especially where they had no other orders other than to hold the tower. He looked over at Tomas and Ser Mage (okay, he had to learn the man's name!). They had been listening and seemed to be in agreement with the elf. Turning back to Adela, Alistair agreed. The smile that crossed her face brought a smile to his face. He took one of her tiny hands in his and raised it up.

"You did very well, Adela," he praised her. "As did you, too," he congratulated the two non-wardens with them. "Many would have fled at the mere sight of an ogre." he glanced over at the carcass that lay on the opposite side of the room. He chuckled. "I near soiled my drawers when I saw the thing!"

Adela looked scandalized, but the other two laughed heartily at that.

His heart had slowed to normal, and so Alistair rose to keep an eye on the Warden banner. Soon enough, the signal was made: the banner was lowered. With a nod, the Warden went over to the fire pit, Ser Mage following closely. With the minimum of effort, the mage lit the fire, and it blazed up the pile of oil soaked wood, to the very top, it's flames hotly burning.

"Yes indeed," Alistair said as he slapped the mage heartily on the back, not noticing the wince from the smaller man, "we definitely need mages in the Wardens."

A small gasp from the window and the two men turned. Adela stood there, watching. As they neared, they noticed she was pale, her eyes wide in disbelief. Alistair moved quickly to her side, searching for what could have caused her reaction.

The first thing he noticed was a huge ogre (easily twice the size of the ogre they had just defeated) grab hold of a golden armored figure (Cailan!). Adela cried out as it flexed its muscles and then tossed the limp form away. Another form, dressed in silver and white, leaped upon the creature, stabbing it multiple times. That has to be Duncan! The young man thought, fear and dread coursing through him.

Wait. Where was Loghain? His eyes skimmed over the battlefield, but saw no sign of the Gwaren troops. And where was Maric's Shield? A tight feeling came over him, and he felt Adela's tight grasp on his arm. He looked down into her stricken face as the same realization came to mind.

Loghain had deserted the armies.

Loghain had deserted the Wardens.

Loghain had deserted the King.

Loghain had deserted.

They looked out; the darkspawn hoard was massacring the Wardens and the armies Cailan had pulled together.

Without another word, the two Wardens, followed closely behind by the guard and mage, raced from the room, and down the stairs.