Oops! It seems I left my notes on this chapter at the end of the last chapter, so most of you will already know what's going to happen. Apologies for that, and I hope you'll still have a look through this chapter :-)

~o~O~o~

"You're sure you don't need to go home and bathe, first?" asked Varric as he and Hawke climbed aboard the small boat that would take them to The Gallows. He leaned in closer and sniffed at Hawke's shirt, wincing and backing away a step, causing the boat to wobble slightly. "What is that smell?"

"The latest perfume from Orlais," replied Hawke with a grin. Varric noted that Hawke had been considerably cheerier since returning from his mysterious errand.

"Really? Smells like vomit, to me."

"Clearly, Varric, you're not familiar with Orlesian perfumes."

"Oh, I am, Hawke, and that can't be Orlesian: Orlesian scents are usually far more offensive to the nose."

As the boat got underway, Hawke glanced at the minacious-looking fortress that lay ahead. He'd glimpsed at it once or twice from a distance but had chosen to ignore it, and its significance, deciding he had enough problems of his own to contend with.

"So, where did you go?" Varric asked with a nonchalance that didn't fool Hawke for one second.

"I went to see Fenris, actually."

"Oh? Is he ok?"

"Mm-hm."

"Think he'll still work with us?"

"I'm not sure," said Hawke thoughtfully. "I hope so; like you said, we need him."

"Hm," Varric mumbled, looking up at Hawke with a curious gleam in his eyes. "I think someone needs him, anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Hawke.

"Well, as you're not carrying that giant stick of yours today, I guess I can get away with saying it: you're different when he's around."

"Different? How am I different?"

Varric sighed and paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "You'd…be the first to admit that you can be…grouchy sometimes, wouldn't you?"

"Varric, about that; I don't mean…"

"Uh-uh," Varric chided, holding his hands up. "I'm not looking for an apology, here; the grouchiness is part of your unique charm, after all. All I'm saying is, you seem…I dunno, less grouchy when he's around. Just an observation."

"Don't you believe it," laughed Hawke, amused that Varric considered him in any way charming. "Things were decidedly frosty between us after I refused to turn Feynriel over to the Templars."

"You still went to visit him, though," observed Varric.

Hawke tugged at his collar and fidgeted. "Yes, well, as I said before, we need him. You said that yourself, Varric, remember?"

"I did," Varric agreed. "I'm just wondering if you've finally found that asshole you were looking for."

Hawke stared at the dwarf blankly. "What in the blazes are you talking about, Varric?"

"You said that everyone needs an asshole in their life; someone who'll keep them on the straight and narrow, and that you were missing said asshole."

Hawke looked at Varric as though he'd grown an extra head. "I said that I need an 'arsehole'? And when exactly did I say that?"

"Funnily enough, it was the very night we met the elf. You were three sheets to the wind at the time, but you said it, all right."

"You're putting me on."

Varric shook his head and grinned. "Nice try, but Blondie was there as well; he'll back me up."

"Well, he would."

Varric cleared his throat and stretched his arms above his head, a clear indication to Hawke that he was after something. "Anyway, Hawke, as you're in a good mood…"

"Uh-oh; I don't like the sound of this," said Hawke, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Well, you know I did a favour for you, and saved you the bother of talking to Aveline?"

"…Yes?"

"Well, she kinda wants our help with a little problem tonight."

"A problem? What sort of problem?"

"Well, she got word of a possible caravan raid, and wants a few heavies to help out."

"Varric," Hawke said in a hard tone, "Aveline is a city guard. She's surrounded by other city guards. Isn't that their job?"

"Normally, yes," replied Varric. "Thing is, she, erm, got the news of the raid through…unofficial channels."

Hawke folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "And would these 'unofficial channels' happen to be about 4'6" tall with chest hair that small animals could hibernate in?"

"Don't forget handsome, witty and cunning," answered Varric.

"I hate you, Dwarf," pouted Hawke.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" urged Varric, nudging Hawke with his elbow. "Bring the elf along; it'll get him out of that mansion for a couple of hours."

"Wait…we're supposed to be helping Isabela tonight, remember? We can't be in two places at once," said Hawke with a crafty smile. "Tell you what: you, Anders and Beth go and sort out Aveline, and I'll take Fenris to the chantry with Isabela. That way, we both have a healer in tow."

"Sorry, Hawke," replied Varric, shaking his head. "Aveline asked specifically for you."

Hawke's face slackened and he groaned. "Why? What does she want with me?"

"Search me," Varric answered with a shrug. "Just…try and be nice to her, huh? Even if you have to pretend. Just like we're gonna pretend to be nice to these Templars. Think of the coin, Hawke."

"Being nice to someone for money? There's a name for that, you know."

"You don't have to be that nice," laughed Varric.

"Oh, all right," Hawke reluctantly agreed. "Where's this raid supposed to be taking place, then?"

"Somewhere along the Wounded C…"

"The Wounded Coast? We've only just got back from there! It's bloody miles out!"

"Hawke, you really have to start seeing the silver lining. Weren't you saying just the other day that you're getting podgy? Just think of the exercise, and all that fresh air! And it won't cost you a thing!"

"You're a manipulative sod, you know that?" accused a frowning Hawke as the boat drew near to The Gallows.

"The word, my friend, is cunning. Now, come on; put on your most charming smile: we've a knight-captain to fleece."

As they disembarked, they were greeted by the standard two-templar welcoming party.

"Varric Tethras, here for Knight-Captain Cullen," Varric announced before they could speak. "We are expected."

One of them grunted and headed back inside, while his partner folded his arms and looked Varric and Hawke up and down. "Can you smell sick?" he asked Hawke.

"No," was the blunt reply.

They waited in silence for a moment until the other templar reappeared and summoned them inside. They were led through the courtyard and around a corner; as they walked, Hawke looked up at the barred windows of the fortress in dismay. "Anders has got to see this place," he mumbled to himself. "If he thought the Circle Tower in Ferelden was bad…"

"Knight-Captain, Varric Tethras and…someone else to see you," announced their escort as they stopped in front of a red-headed templar.

"Thank you. That will be all," said Cullen. He waited for his colleague to depart before addressing his guests.

"Messeres Tethras and Hawke," he said cordially, shaking Varric's hand and offering his to Hawke, who cautiously shook it and nodded once. "I am glad you received my letter. Once again, I apologise for not being able to travel over to the mainland; my duties here allow little spare time." He released Hawke's hand and pointed to the other side of the courtyard; Hawke and Varric turned around to look, and spotted the young templar they'd rescued from the blood mages chatting to a merchant.

"As you can see, Ser Keran is well, thanks to you, although he is under constant surveillance, as we are uncertain as to whether he sustained any…lingering after-effects from his ordeal."

"He's not possessed," Hawke said with certainty.

Cullen's eyes narrowed a little. "Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?"

"I have it on very good authority that he resisted all offers the demons made. You have no need to watch him," answered Hawke.

"Authority? Can you elaborate?" asked Cullen, frowning.

"No."

"I see." Cullen watched Hawke for a moment, and then sighed. "Well, perhaps we could go a little easier on the lad; we must still be vigilant, however."

"What became of the blood mages?" asked Hawke.

"Tarohne was executed," he replied matter-of-factly. "She was clearly in league with several demonic creatures. Her henchmen were made Tranquil. They now work in the Templars' armoury."

Hawke nodded, and shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, you are here for your reward, no doubt," said Cullen, producing a small bag of monies, which Varric took, weighing it in his palm. "The Templar Order is indebted to you for your service, and I hope that in the future we may work together again."

Varric flashed a cheesy grin, most satisfied with the weight of the purse. "Oh, I think we can come to an arrangement, wouldn't you say, Hawke?"

"There are certain things I won't do," Hawke told Cullen. "I'm not going to capture or squeal on apostates for you."

Cullen nodded. "Your own status as an apostate makes that understandable."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, you misunderstand me, Messere Hawke. Your friend here," he said, pointing at Varric, "is aware that we employ certain…parties, strictly off the books, you understand. Some of them inform us of the whereabouts of apostates, and some don't." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "The Knight-Commander is completely unaware of this. She would not approve."

"You mean you employ apostates who tell you where other apostates are?" Hawke asked in disbelief.

Cullen shrugged. "I can see how you would find such actions distasteful, but there it is. Apostates tend to respond more favourably towards fellow mages than they would a visit from us."

"I think we're done here, Varric," Hawke said superciliously, his eyes still on Cullen.

"Wait," said Varric. "There's one more thing we need," he said to Cullen.

"Oh? And what would that be?" asked the knight-captain.

"Oh, yes," Hawke interjected. "I have a friend whose…status is similar to mine. I believe your men are aware of him, but do not know exactly where he is. I want him left alone, and I want him to be able to walk freely around Kirkwall, and here."

Cullen took a deep breath, and, for a moment, didn't answer. "You ask a great deal of me, Messere Hawke; perhaps too much."

"Take it or leave it," Hawke answered gruffly. "You're getting a lot more out of this deal than we are. Throwing a few coins at us is a drop in the ocean to the Chantry."

Varric's eyes darted between the two men as they stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Cullen looked away.

"I will make this concession, once and once only," insisted Cullen. "If you ask me to 'look the other way' again, you will be disappointed with my answer."

"Fair enough," said Hawke.

"Who is this…person?" Cullen asked.

"His given name is Anders. I don't actually know if he has a second name."

Cullen raised his eyebrows. "So it is true…I've suspected he was in Kirkwall for a long time; there have been sightings, but nothing concrete up until now. He was one of the Circle Tower's most notorious apostates."

"He's also a Grey Warden," Hawke reminded him.

"That means nothing here," Cullen answered. "It will be difficult to convince my men to leave him alone."

"You are their captain, are you not?" asked Hawke. "You issue an order, they obey; simple as that."

Cullen nodded. "I will do my best. And, if you do bring Anders here, I must ask that…"

"No robes, no staff. Got it," answered Hawke, taking a step closer to Cullen. "Just make sure your men do obey your orders, or your knight-commander's ignorance of certain matters will come to an end. Just so we understand each other."

Cullen nodded. "We do."

"Then you have yourself a deal." Hawke extended his hand, and this time it was Cullen who reacted hesitantly, tentatively taking Hawke's hand and shaking it.

"Just one thing," said Cullen as Hawke turned to leave, his voice taking on a hard edge. "I am aware than an operation to capture Anders, or at least someone matching his description, was conducted several weeks ago. The men who were to make the arrest were found dead in the chantry the following morning. They had been butchered. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"I may have heard about that, yes," answered Hawke, his expression blank.

"And did you also hear if Anders was responsible for their deaths?"

"Anders did not kill those templars. On that, you have my word."

A thick, uncomfortable silence hung between the two men, which was eventually broken by Varric, who seized Hawke's arm. "Well, we must be making tracks. Nice to see you again, Knight-Captain."

Cullen could only watch as his guests headed towards the gate.

"Nicely played, Hawke!" Varric exclaimed with a hefty slap to Hawke's back as they boarded the boat. "Looks like your stint at the Varric Tethras School of Cunning didn't go to waste!"

"I'm not aware of having attended that school," Hawke answered.

"Did I say I was cunning?"

"That's one word for it, yes. How much money did we get?"

Varric opened the purse and peered inside. "Just as I thought. Seven sovereigns!"

"Seven?" Hawke pushed out his lower lip and raised his eyebrows. "Well, how about one apiece and two for the kitty?"

"Sounds good to me, Hawke. Hey, erm…I noticed you didn't mention Sunshine to that Cullen guy. You could have negotiated for her to enter The Gallows as well, you know. I think you could have cracked him."

Hawke shook his head firmly. "I don't trust that Cullen as far as I could throw him. He quite happily deals with apostates who are willing sell out their kin, and then, in the blink of an eye, executes and tranquils others. I know that Tarohne was mental, but still…well, I couldn't do his job, that's for sure." He shook his head again. "Bethany's not setting foot in that place."

"I dunno, Hawke; it just seems like he's trying to do his job under difficult circumstances. I would have thought that Blondie would be more at risk going there, anyhow."

"Anders wants to go," countered Hawke, "and he's a grown man. He can look after himself."

"So can Sunshine, Hawke. I'm just saying."

Hawke glanced at Varric and sighed. "I know that, but I'm not losing her as well."

Varric nodded and clapped Hawke on the arm, and they sat back in the boat as they were rowed across to the mainland.

~o~O~o~

As Varric had one or two people to see, it was almost lunchtime when he and Hawke arrived back at the Hanged Man. As they entered, they were surprised to find a forlorn-looking Anders propping up the bar.

"Two more ales," he said to the ever-present Corff upon spotting the new arrivals.

"Not for me," said Hawke, arriving at his side. "What's the matter with you? And where's Bethany?"

Anders huffed and shook his head. "Your sister insisted I go along to Merrill's with her after we'd spoken to Feynriel's mother. I was willing to go along with that, for Bethany's sake, but once we were inside, they all started talking about…girly things."

"Girly things? Like what?" laughed Hawke.

Anders screwed his face up and pouted. "Well, Isabela started giving Merrill tips on 'lift', whatever that is, and then she started grabbing Merrill's…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "…boobs and…well, pushing them up."

Hawke and Varric burst out laughing. "Sounds like a dream come true to me, Blondie!" chortled Varric.

"Well, it wasn't," Anders said indignantly. "It was just…disturbing. And then they all started cackling like geese. I made an excuse and left; I don't think they even noticed."

"Aw," commiserated Hawke, patting Anders' cheek. "Were the nasty women paying no attention to you?"

"Sod off, you," Anders groused, passing Varric his pint.

"Well, I do have some good news," said Hawke, still laughing. "The next time I go to The Gallows, you can come along. You've been wanting to see it, haven't you?"

"Eh? How did you manage that?"

"I had a friendly chat with a nice man named Cullen. We…negotiated."

"Cullen?" asked Anders. "There was a templar at the Circle Tower named Cullen."

"Must be the same one; he said he remembered you. What's he like?"

"He was always pretty decent, from what I remember," Anders said thoughtfully. "Bit of a soft touch."

"See? I told you," said Varric.

"Well, we'll see," Hawke replied. "The bad news, Anders, is that you have to dress like this," he said, pointing to himself. "No robes and no staff."

Anders shrugged his shoulders. "That's all right; I'm used to wearing trousers from when I was on the run, although I think I can find something a bit more modern than…those things." Anders moved a little closer to Hawke and sniffed the air. "Blimey, Hawke; you smell a bit ripe."

"Yes, I know; I'm going home to change. I probably won't be back until later," he said, turning to Varric.

"Come on then, Blondie; let's grab a bite and I'll tell you all about our plans for tonight."

"Aren't we going to help Isabela out? Assuming we can prise her away from Merrill's boobs, of course."

"Oh, yeah, we are," Varric said to Anders with a sly glance at Hawke, "but Aveline has other plans for Hawke."

It was Anders's turn to laugh as Hawke cast Varric a look that would curdle milk, and left the pub in a huff.

~o~O~o~

After having a bath at home, Hawke slipped on a robe and breathed a sigh of relief as he no longer had to wear those confining trousers. Making his way to the kitchen, he found Leandra hard at work, cooking.

"Mother, that smells absolutely divine," he complimented her, kissing her on the cheek. "What are you baking?"

"I'm glad that you smell a little more pleasant yourself, dear; do I even want to know what you've been up to?"

"Probably not," he answered with a cheeky smile.

Leandra shook her head indulgently and pointed to the worktop. "I've made a huge fish pie with the fish you brought me from the docks, and I have cheese scones and biscuits in the oven."

"Biscuits?" Hawke asked, an idea forming in his mind. "What kind?"

"Two kinds," the skilled cook answered. "Shortbread and ginger snaps."

"Mother," Hawke said, grinning impishly, "you know how you're the best mother in the whole wide world…?"

Leandra folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. "What are you after?"

"Me, Mother?" he asked innocently, batting his eyelashes for effect. "Well, you always make too many biscuits, don't you?"

"Yes, but they never go to waste, do they?" she answered, prodding Hawke's belly with her finger. "They always seem to get eaten by someone."

Hawke stared at her finger disparagingly and shook his head. "I blame that Gamlen, myself. Anyway, I have a friend who likes biscuits, and I thought I'd take him a couple of yours to try out?"

"A friend?" Leandra asked with a bright smile.

"No, it's not like that, Mother. He's just…well, he's not looking after himself properly." Hawke shrugged and turned away from Leandra, absent-mindedly wiping the worktop with a cloth. "He's very mistrustful of people and I thought that if I showed him a little kindness, he might open up a bit, that's all. It's a shame; I think he's had a very hard life."

"Darling," said Leandra proudly, "You are as kind-hearted as the day is long. Just like your father was."

"Don't you dare tell anyone," Hawke muttered with a sidelong glance at Leandra.

"Your secret is safe with me," she promised. "Now, let's see what we can find for your friend."

~o~O~o~

For the second time that day, Hawke found himself in the courtyard of Danrius's mansion, but this time he was dressed more comfortably and he carried a small jute sack that his mother had filled with various goodies for Fenris to sample.

His nervous complaint had returned; his stomach had been tied in knots since leaving home, but the tension he'd previously felt in his neck and shoulders had eased. Once again he hesitated as he glanced up at the front aspect of the mansion. He always felt uneasy when he came here, but not because of Fenris; there was an unwelcoming, menacing air about the place.

He caught his reflection in one of the lower windows and, straightening his robe out, considered his appearance for a moment. His hair was freshly washed; he'd also trimmed his beard and was wearing one of his best robes. In his hand, he carried a bag full of food. He sighed and shook his head.

"Maker's breath, Fletcher, what are you doing?" he asked himself. "He's going to think you're after him, or something!"

Annoyed with himself, he turned to leave, and had just reached the gate when he heard the creak of the front door opening.

"Hawke?"

Hawke's gut wrenched and he turned around. Fenris stood across the courtyard from him, looking puzzled.

"I saw you from one of the windows. You are…leaving?"

"Erm…" Hawke laughed nervously and walked over to the elf. "You see, the thing is, well…my mother always makes far too much food, so I thought I'd bring some over; it seemed like a good idea at the time, anyway. Then I got to thinking that maybe, uh, you might find that a bit, erm…condescending. Not that I consider myself in any way superior to you. Not-not at all. Erm…"

"You brought some food for me?"

"I just thought it would make a change from biscuits…and porridge. Although…there are biscuits in here," he said awkwardly, holding the bag up.

"That was thoughtful of you," said Fenris quietly, taking Hawke by surprise. "Well, come in."

Fenris entered first and Hawke followed, surprised again to see that the drapes in the vestibule had been opened and that much of the rubble that their fight against the abominations had caused, had been removed.

"I've been busy," Fenris explained, noticing Hawke's expression as they climbed up the stairs.

"So I see. Has your strength returned, then? Do you feel better?" asked Hawke.

Fenris paused on the landing and turned slightly towards Hawke. "Well, you left some porridge in a pan, and, after another two bowls of it," he began, causing Hawke to grin, "I felt more like myself, yes." He clasped his hands together and turned fully to face Hawke, although he didn't look at him, casting his eyes to one side. "I…wanted to thank you for…"

"There's no need," insisted Hawke. "Come on; let's see what my mother has put in here."

Upon entering the room where Fenris stayed, which had also been given a spruce-up, Hawke laid the sack on the table and untied it, spreading it contents on the table. "Now, let's see," he said, opening several items that had been wrapped in waxed paper. "Cheese scones, with a pat of butter…cold chicken, a jar of homemade chutney…" As he unwrapped the parcels, Fenris watched in fascination. "…Ah. Fish pie," said Hawke, unwrapping a dish containing enough for two. "You'll love this."

"This-this is too much," Fenris protested. "You should not have…"

"Like I said, Mother always makes too much, and I usually end up eating what's left." He patted his belly. "I used to be quite muscular, but since coming here…I'm getting fat, and I need to put a stop to it before it gets worse."

Fenris glanced at Hawke's chunky frame before looking back at the table. "Perhaps you could go for runs?" he suggested.

"I could, but there's a slight snag to that plan."

"And what is that?"

"I'm a shiftless bastard, that's what."

Fenris's lips twitched slightly. "I can see how that would be a drawback."

Hawke laughed. "Well, I suggest we have the fish pie now, and you keep the chicken for later. Store it somewhere cool." He opened the last package and presented it to Fenris. "Biscuits."

Fenris looked at Hawke briefly, and then his brow furrowed as he examined Leandra's biscuits. "What are these?" he asked.

"Shortbread. Have you never tried it?" Fenris shook his head. "Go on, have a piece."

Fenris hesitantly took a piece, and Hawke noticed how dainty his hands were without his gauntlets on, and wondered how he managed to hold his huge sword with such apparent ease. He also noticed that the lyrium markings extended all the way to Fenris's fingertips.

Fenris concentrated on the bite in his mouth, and, after a moment, he looked at Hawke, his eyes widening.

"I think you like it," said Hawke.

"It tastes of butter," Fenris noted, looking back down at his hand. "It is…delicious."

"No one makes shortbread like my mother," Hawke boasted. "Although she can't compete with my porridge."

"As I have not yet sampled your mother's porridge, I am in no position to comment."

"That's quite true," replied Hawke. "Now, I think we could do with some cutlery…and plates, if you have any, although we can get by without them."

"I shall fetch some from the kitchen," said Fenris, and he headed to the door.

"Oh, Fenris? How about a drink? Tea might be the best bet."

A small, almost shy smile graced Fenris's lips, and he nodded. "No doubt you are correct. I shall return shortly."

Once the tea and cutlery, but no plates, had been brought up, Fenris and Hawke sat at the table and shared the fish pie and Leandra's shortbread. Hawke let Fenris have most of that, claiming not to like it very much.

"Fenris, there was a reason I came to see you this morning," he began. "I, um, I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Feynriel."

Fenris sighed quietly and looked out of the window.

"I know you didn't agree with what I did, and I know I may have been a little…belligerent. I wanted you to know that I didn't just dismiss your opinion off-hand. I did think about what you said, but I just wanted to give the boy a chance."

Fenris looked back at Hawke. "My assessment of the situation was that you sided with your fellow mage."

"No," replied Hawke, shaking his head. "Anders wanted to let him go, and I didn't agree with that, either. I thought you were both wrong."

"Then you have appointed yourself arbiter of all decisions within your group?" asked Fenris, although there was no hostility in his question.

"No, not at all…I was just trying to find a balance. What was happening to the boy was not his fault, and he had clearly fought against the demons for a long time. I believe that Keeper Marethari can help him. The Templars would have made him tranquil and that would have been a senseless waste of a young life."

Fenris nodded. "As a mage, you would undoubtedly have a different viewpoint on the matter. I still believe you were wrong, however."

"And that's fine," replied Hawke with a shrug. "I don't expect everyone to agree with me on everything, and I don't believe myself to be all-knowing. I've made some mistakes in my time, I can tell you." Hawke fell silent and sipped at his tea.

"I am certain this will not be the only matter upon which we disagree," said Fenris after a moment.

Hawke put his cup down on the table. "So…you still want to work with us, then?"

Fenris nodded. "Yes…although at this moment I have no idea why."

"That's great!" Hawke said enthusiastically. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, we do have a job tonight; well, two, actually. I was thinking that you and I could do one, and the others could do…well, the other."

Fenris folded his arms and cocked a dark eyebrow. "It seems to me that you already had this planned."

"I-I might have…pencilled you in, just on the off-chance that you agreed," Hawke stammered, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks. "The food was in no way a bribe. Not at all."

To his relief and delight, Fenris chuckled as a wide grin lit up his face.

"We'll have to go to the Guard barracks and see someone I know named Aveline. She'll probably be coming with us; we need to go back to the Wounded Coast." Noticing Fenris fidget in his chair, he quickly added, "Although we won't be hanging around there or going to sleep or anything; we'll come straight back, no matter how late it is."

Hawke heard Fenris taking a slow, deep breath. "Very well; I will go with you," he agreed.

"Thank you, Fenris. I appreciate it."

The two men finished off their meal in silence, and Hawke began to feel nervous again as he considered asking Fenris about his dream, but guessed that perhaps he didn't know Fenris well enough yet for that, and decided to broach the subject in a roundabout way.

"Fenris…is there…anything you'd like to talk about?" he asked quietly.

"No, I don't think so," Fenris answered quickly, as though he'd been expecting the question.

Hawke nodded and shrugged apologetically. "Well…I just wanted you to know, if ever…you know. You know where I am." He stood and began to clear away the contents of the table. "If you feel like it, why don't we visit the barracks now? It's not very far, and then we'll know what's what."

"Yes," Fenris agreed, and also stood. "Hawke…would you extend my gratitude to your mother? That was the finest meal I can remember eating, perhaps the finest I've ever eaten."

"All right, but you still haven't tasted my porridge made with milk. Don't get making such bold proclamations until you've tried that."

"In that case, I look forward to sampling it one day," Fenris replied, and Hawke once again noticed a shy smile on the elf's lips.

"After you, Fenris," said Hawke, and they left the room, and made their way to the barracks.