Author's Note: This time, many thanks go to both Gene Dark and Morwen33 for giving me some varying perspectives and absolutely wonderful, insightful comments and critiques!

As always, thank you to my wonderful reviewers: Josie Lange, Happy Little Cupcake, Judy, Sharem, Arsinoe de Blassenville, PhantomDragoness, Alliel 23, Ereneviana, and plotbunnyprey.

Additionally, I had a little commission art done for this chapter because the notion struck me and I just have zero self-control whatsoever. However, I don't want to spoil you fine folks early, so be sure to check out the link to it in my author's notes at the conclusion of this chapter. :)


The next morning, Loghain was up bright and early. That in itself was not unusual. As the son of a farmer, he'd long ago become accustomed to early rising. The habit had simply stuck ever since, considering it was essential to the lifestyles that followed - from the nomadic days of the rebellion to the rather similar situation in which he now found himself. However, that part of the reason for the extra spring in his step was due to the Warden was something the grizzled, old warrior was not yet ready to admit even to himself, despite the evidence. Despite the smile the painted wheat fields brought to his face. Despite the warmth the recreated maps grudgingly gave his heart.

Loghain rose and went about his morning routine. Every time he found himself rushing through it more quickly than usual, he chalked it up to being anxious to get back on the road. It certainly wasn't because he was in a hurry to see the Warden. Or that he was excited to collect her shortbow from Varathorn and present it to her. Not at all. Because those would be silly, sentimental reasons and there was no time for such foolishness with a Blight staring them down.

Yet, after shaving and getting dressed - casual camp gear, since there was no word of their group resuming their march until tomorrow - Loghain found himself roaming the Dalish encampment in search of his fellow Grey Warden. After coming up empty-handed, Zevran informed him that she was in a private meeting with the clan's keeper and the commander of the Dalish army.

He was rather surprised at first, but quickly chastised himself for it. After all, Kallian was the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. The only other Grey Wardens in the country were himself, Riordan, who was technically of the Orlesian Order, and Maric's bastard, who had departed for parts unknown. She was the leader both by default and by proven skill and, thus, it made perfect sense for her to speak with the leaders of the Dalish without including him. However, Loghain had been both a general and a royal confidant for so long that it simply felt... strange... not to be part of a meeting. Not to mention rather disappointing that she would forgo the benefit of his knowledge and expertise. The reminder of his new rank was rather deflating.

Loghain mentally pushed that aside. Things had changed and he had a new role now. The fact that the Warden had basically treated him as an equal up to this point had simply allowed him to overlook his status change. Taking a deep breath, the former teyrn nodded to the assassin and moved on. The last thing the Warden needed was to have to deal with a bruised ego, so he pushed any such feelings aside and shifted his focus onto something else.

"Good morning, Loghain," greeted Varathorn. "You're earlier than expected."

"Yes, I know," admitted the Grey Warden. "However, I thought it might not hurt to check in and see how things were going."

"No harm at all," the master craftsman replied, finishing up some writing. "Your timing is uncanny, actually." With that, he turned and gave his apprentice a nod. The young elf went to the back of the cart and pulled out Kallian's shortbow. He handed it to Loghain, who carefully appraised the Dalish creation.

"This is a beautiful work of art," he breathed, gently brushing his fingertips along its length as he studied it. The bow was a splendid specimen: lithe, gracefully curved... almost feminine, if an inanimate object could look as such. Yet, it bore the appearance of a formidable weapon packing a powerful punch. The warrior smiled. "It looks like her."

Varathorn chuckled at that. "Glad you think so. I tried to make something befitting her."

"I'd say you succeeded," complimented Loghain. Turning the bow at various angles in the morning's light, he took in the finer details. The wood was decorated with a line of carved feathers wrapping around its full length like a vine. Foreign lettering was etched in the open spaces.

The craftsman cleared his throat to draw the warrior's attention. When Loghain glanced up, the elf handed him a rectangular quiver fully stocked with arrows. "Can't have one without the other, right?" he said.

Loghain took the leather quiver and smirked. Like the line of carved feathers on the shortbow, it was canvassed with etched feathers, presumably to match the griffon wings of the Warden's unique vallaslin. There was, however, a plain area in the very center of the quiver left free of the feathered decorations, save for two exceptions: the Grey Warden symbol and motto front and center; as well as more of the strange, etched characters placed just below a symbol he'd seen on a few of the Dalish shields around camp. Looking up, Loghain asked, "Is this Elvish?"

Varathorn nodded. "I was just writing down the translation when you arrived. Here," he explained, handing over the parchment.

Loghain looked over it once, then shook his head. "I can't possibly pronounce some of this."

"If you have a few moments," the elf said, chuckling, "I can help with that."


"It's settled, then," said Athras. "My chosen hunters march for Redcliffe at first light tomorrow."

Kallian turned to Keeper Lanaya with worry touching her face. "Are you sure the whole clan shouldn't go?" she asked. "With only a few hunters left for protection, wouldn't it be safer to hunker down with Redcliffe's townspeople?"

"Your concern is appreciated," she replied, nodding, "but we would be far more comfortable hiding in the forests we have known all our lives. And if what our scouts say is true - that the darkspawn are more concentrated in the south - I would be leading my people closer to danger rather than further from it."

The Warden sighed, disliking the decision but lacking any real argument against it. In a perfect world, she'd gather all those who could not fight and compact them into one nice, neat little area that she could then place herself in front of and keep all enemies at bay. But it wasn't a perfect world. Kallian would have to learn to accept that one of these days. Returning her gaze to Athras, she explained, "Once you've arrived in the village, ask for Ser Perth. He's leading Arl Eamon's forces."

"Aye." The master huntsman nodded. "And you said you'll be arriving in several months' time, with your mages and templars in tow?"

"That's the plan," she confirmed. "Shouldn't be too long after you see the dwarven army arrive."

"We'll travel with you a ways south, then," he concluded. "'Til your group has to break off."

"Are you sure about this, lethallan?" Lanaya asked. "Ostagar is out of the way for your journey, isn't it?"

"Not as much as you'd think," answered Kallian, shaking her head. "Just a little farther south. Frederick Long may have been addled in the head, but he raised enough suspicions that I have to check it out, especially since we're passing so close. We can't afford not to explore a potential advantage against the Archdemon."

"You are a brave soul, Warden," Athras noted in a respectful tone, "if you don't mind my sayin' so."

She smiled and a small gleam entered her eyes. "It has to be done. Might as well be another elf pulling all our asses, including the shems', out of the fire, right? Who knew Shartan was starting a trend."

All three elves chuckled for a moment before growing serious again. The Keeper was the first to speak, thanking Athras for his time and dismissing him from her tent. Then, she gave her fellow city elf a somber look. "I must apologize for the behavior of some of my clansmen last night," she started. Kallian tried to wave her off, but Lanaya fixed her with an earnest look and continued, "No, I do. So quickly they seem to forget where I originally came from, and where we would all be if you hadn't come along when you did... I mostly regret not being present to cuff the grousers myself."

"It really wasn't a big deal." Kallian shrugged. "I'll live."

"Still," pressed Lanaya, "rest assured that such an incident will not be repeated. I'll not have tonight's festivities ruined by a few disgruntled purists. For all that you've done for us, you are welcome among our clan anytime. You and all your non-elven companions."

"I thank you for your hospitality," the Warden remarked, bowing slightly. Then, with a wry grin, she added, "And did I hear mention of a... party... tonight?"

"Do you Grey Wardens never tire?" the Keeper laughed.

"Our stamina is legendary, so I'm told," Kallian answered in a mixture of mirth and sincerity.

Smiling brightly, the elven leader informed, "You're in luck, then. Dalish tradition dictates we hold a festive gathering the night before going to war. It is a way for all to enjoy the company of our warriors one last time before they head into peril. It also gives them a happy memory to march with."

"I think that's a delightful custom," she remarked with a broad grin.

"There is one more matter," Lanaya added. "The da'len you wish for us to take in."

Kallian's shoulders drooped. For a moment, she second-guessed her request. After all, she was asking them to take on another mouth to feed while, at the same time, depriving them of the majority of their hunters. Not to mention that last night's little spat at the campfire had driven home that the Gwaren girl, despite being elven, would not necessarily have an easier road here than in an Alienage. To be an elf anywhere meant to be spurned by someone, it seemed.

Yet, the Warden reminded herself, Lanaya started out the same way and she has not only survived, but has become a leader among the Dalish. Fixing her with a concerned look, Kallian responded, "I was hoping you might be willing... since she has no family and we head towards nowhere suited for a child... and her story is not so dissimilar from yours..."

The Keeper held up a hand to stop her fellow elf's rambling plea. "I'd be more than happy to bring her into our clan, lethallan. In fact, she may be a blessing to poor Sarel."

That caught the Warden's attention. Sarel, though a little better now, had been one of the more disapproving and stand-offish of the Dalish when she'd first met him. "Are you sure he would even be accepting of her?"

"He tends to lean towards the purists, I know," Lanaya explained, "but you've not been around him at his best. He lost his wife during the very first attack and, unlike some of the others who also suffered losses, Sylaise had not yet blessed their union with a child. Sarel came to us from another clan, so he has no familiar blood here."

"So, they both start off with something in common," Kallian deduced, following the Keeper's logic.

"I think the match might help them both grow as people. And," she added, "he is about due for a lorekeeper apprentice."

"And what better way to try and get the girl talking full sentences than by pairing her with the clan's storyteller, right?" the Warden interjected, eyes bright as she started to truly understand Lanaya's plan.

The Keeper smiled and nodded at the city elf. Then, she asked, "Does the child have a name? I've not heard it spoken since you arrived."

"We don't know," answered the Warden, "and she's either unable to speak it or has been so upset by her trials that she has forgotten it."

The elven leader nodded. "In that case, what name do you wish upon her?"

"Shouldn't Sarel be the one to...?"

"She is alive by your grace alone," Lanaya countered, as if that were all the reason needed.

Kallian was quiet for several moments, head hung down in contemplation. One would think it a simple matter to choose a name for a child, but the elf found herself temporarily frozen. She'd never seriously thought about starting a family before, so she didn't have a name readily in mind. And one of the things Alistair had told her about becoming a Grey Warden was that - along with the extra energy, increased appetite, darkspawn early warning alarm, and incredibly realistic nightmares - you also basically got to kiss goodbye any chance of having children. So, christening a member of the next generation had not occupied much of her mind.

Once she'd finished pondering over her response and sorting through all the feminine, elven names she knew, the Warden finally settled on one she was proud to give to a new generation of survivors. After shooting a brief smile up to the heavens, Kallian locked eyes with the Keeper and said, "Call her Adaia, after my mother."


Loghain walked out to the archery practice field. While he was eager to present the Warden with her new bow, it was not necessarily a bad thing that she was currently occupied elsewhere. Both the weapon and her fledgling skill would benefit from him giving the shortbow a good breaking in. Her detainment merely helped keep his hidden excitement in check.

He came to an abrupt stop just short of the first wooden target. Despite the early hour, he'd suspected the range might have a few occupants. What he'd not been expecting, however, was that the only person using it was one he'd much rather not associate with if he could avoid it. The red-headed bard - with whom Kallian, of course, got along smashingly - had beaten him to the field, steadily practicing with that obscenely ornate, obviously Orlesian bow of hers. Just looking at it brought an unconscious sneer to his face.

Loghain stood still for a moment, conflicting desires warring inside him. On one hand, he could simply turn around right now and leave before she spotted him, avoiding the inevitable conversational imprisonment he'd otherwise be forced to endure. On the other hand, the Warden really would have a much easier time learning on her new bow if he loosened it up for her first. My comfort or her benefit, he mentally grumbled. However, in light of how much the Warden had freely given him of late, he didn't consider it too difficult a choice to make.

The former general sighed heavily and gritted his teeth, bracing himself for instant annoyance. Then, delaying no longer, he quickly walked past the chatty girl, avoiding even remotely looking in her direction, and took up a position several rows down from her. He carefully laid Kallian's customized quiver on a bench beside a tall, thin bucket filled with practice arrows. Holding her shortbow in the palms of both hands, he felt the balance of its weight. Damn near perfect, he noted, impressed. Flipping it quickly to his left hand, the handgrip fell into his grasp almost naturally and was smooth to the touch, but not slippery or unsteady. He nodded to himself. Inspecting the string both by eyeing it and by touch, he noted it was of even thickness and fittingly taut.

Satisfied, Loghain grasped the string and gave it a few tugs. The resistance was good, but it definitely needed to be broken in and loosened up some so that Kallian would be able to pull it back more easily. Once she became more practiced, he could always show her how to tighten it back up. For right now, though, what she needed was something reliable, comfortable, and easy for her to use. That would help break her trepidation with archery.

Giving the string a few more good, long tugs, Loghain picked an arrow out of the bucket. Then, he notched it and quickly sighted a close target. The arrow took off with a flash of feathers and sank deeply into the round, wooden circle, rocking it onto its back legs for a moment before settling back down. He furrowed his brow. That was a punch, he observed. Let's see what kind of reach you have, my dear...

He picked out a target further back from the first one. The next arrow, again, imbedded itself quite nicely. Arching an eyebrow, the former teyrn aimed at one of the longbow targets. This time, the arrow fell short, although it planted itself not too far from the wooden circle. He paused in his practice and took a moment to look the bow over again. It had amazing reach for a shortbow, even a composite one. He figured the ironbark in it must factor into the extra strength and power transferred from the string to the arrow. Now, he pondered, tugging on the string again and smiling to himself as it gave a little more than before, let's work on your flexibility.

"New bow?"

Loghain's smile melted into a frown and a noncommittal grunt. He had managed to successfully ignore the Orlesian's unfortunate presence until now.

"It's very nice and fancy," Leliana continued, "although you seem more of a plain and practical sort of fellow. It looks rather awkward on you."

"That's because it's not mine," he corrected, then immediately regretted it.

"Oh?" she breathed, raising her eyebrows and taking a few cautious, curious steps forward, looking like a fox that's spotted something potentially yummy hiding in the bushes. "Who's it for?"

"Someone," he said rather forcefully before notching another arrow and resuming practice, hoping the bard would take the hint that his side of the conversation was finished.

Unfortunately for him, Loghain did not have a very good track record with luck. Leliana scented something of interest and would not be pushed away so easily. She slid around behind the warrior and sidestepped her way towards the intriguingly-ornamented quiver laying on the bench. "Come, now, Loghain," she teased, "there are hardly any secrets in our small group."

He pointedly ignored her and let the arrow fly, taking some morbid satisfaction in visualizing the bard's head in place of the red bullseye.

Undeterred, Leliana bent down and plucked up the leather case. She examined its markings, running nimble fingers over the etched feathers that dominated the decorations. Then, she narrowed her gaze down to the smooth patch in the middle, adorned with a symbol that looked like a mask of leaves. Underneath that was an inscription in what appeared to be Dalish, followed by a rampant griffon and a phrase carved in Fereldan. She read aloud, "In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice." The bard gazed back up at Loghain, looking smug. "This is the Grey Wardens' motto," she recalled with a hint of triumphant discovery in her voice.

He grunted, "What of it?"

"Well, if this is meant for a Grey Warden and it isn't yours..." Leliana drew out, "then that greatly reduces our remaining possibilities, now, doesn't it?"

"Aren't you a clever girl," Loghain snidely remarked.

Returning the quiver to its original resting spot, she placed her hands on her hips and parried, "There's no need to get all grumpy." With a sly smile, she added, "It's a very thoughtful gift, Loghain."

The former teyrn bristled. "It's not a gift," he barked.

The bard quirked an eyebrow up and appeared thoroughly unconvinced. "You know, immediately getting defensive serves only as confirmation that it is a gift."

"No, it's not," he countered. "This is something practical that the Warden would benefit from owning. I don't know about the rest of you, but I think she'd be better picking dinner off from afar rather than blindly jumping daggers-first onto whatever game the dog flushes out of the bushes. Wouldn't you agree?" He stared down at the red-head with narrowed eyes, daring her to argue against his logic.

Leliana shrugged. "Yes, it's something highly useful and also beautiful. Where I come from, we call that a gift."

Loghain's expression immediately soured. He turned back to the practice target, trying again to end the unwanted conversation.

"If you want my opinion - which I know you don't, so that's why I'm giving it anyway..." She chuckled, "I think Kal will love it. Especially since it's coming from you."

As much as he wanted to ignore her, that last comment caught the former general's attention. Loghain lowered the bow and shot the bard a sidelong glance. "Is that so?" he asked, voice low. When she smiled coyly and nodded, he turned to face her fully. "Why?" he demanded.

Leliana giggled like a small child with a prized secret. "That's for me to know and you to find out..."

"But you just said there are no secrets in our group," he argued, pointing a finger in her face.

She giggled again and pushed the accusing digit aside playfully. "No, I said there were hardly any secrets. The girls are allowed to have them. The boys aren't."

"What are you, five years old?" he snarled in exasperation. Shaking his head, Loghain went back to breaking in Kallian's bow.

After several moments of pointed silence, Leliana ventured, "So, you never did answer my question from yesterday regarding whether or not you have great stories about King Maric."

"Not this again..."


Kallian slowly meandered in the direction of her tent, mentally plotting out the remaining course of her day. If they were to get their first army moving tomorrow morning, there was much to be done. Let's see, she pondered, I need to alert my crew so they can pack up as much as possible tonight. I've got to go talk to Bodahn and make sure we're almost through re-stocking. I should probably meet with Athras again to make sure he has everything he needs, see if the few aravels they're bringing will be enough for the army or if Bodahn needs to find more room in his cart for some of their supplies...

Throughout the Warden's thought process, she kept one hand in her front pants pocket, occasionally fiddling with a certain someone's signet ring. She'd awakened earlier than usual - actually beating Loghain for a change, who was almost always the first to rise - and couldn't contain her excitement any longer. The elf had made a beeline over to Varathorn's crafting stall, not surprised in the least to see him up and already working at such an hour. When he'd seen her coming, he'd set aside someone's quiver upon which he was engraving a few finishing touches and, as she'd suspected, already had the ring completed. It was absolutely perfect, and Kallian had made sure to tell him so. Multiple times. He'd finally shooed her away in a kindly manner and the Warden was left wondering what to do next. She'd had an overwhelming desire simply to crash into Loghain's tent and give it to him straight away, but fought the urge down. Let him sleep in if he can for once, she'd decided, and then sought out Lanaya and Athras to get a head start on their plans.

Knowing Loghain was surely up by now, Kallian found herself procrastinating. It would make sense to seek him out before the day inevitably pulled her from one direction to the next with campaign preparations. Yet, with the ring sitting almost heavily in her pocket, she found herself walking slowly in no real direction. To be perfectly honest, she felt a bit shy and... well, nervous. Why that was, she couldn't figure. They were just friends, after all. The ring was simply a replacement for the Grey Warden pendant he should have received after his Joining. It was all perfectly logical and professional.

Loghain's raised voice suddenly shook the elf free of her wandering thoughts. "Warden!" he called. "I've something to show you." At her inquisitive look, he added, "You'll want your gloves for this."

The elf arched an eyebrow. "O-o-oka-a-a-a-ay..." she drew out, her voice a mixture of curiosity and vague wariness. However, she quickly sprinted to her tent and retrieved her drakeskin gloves. After hurriedly returning to the archery field, she gave him a lop-sided grin and breathily greeted, "Hey, rookie!"

"Good morning," he responded simply and quietly, giving her a small smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Kallian found the look rather endearing.

"Sleep well, I take it?" she said in a slightly teasing voice, fishing for a response to her gifts from the night before.

His smiled broadened and a certain spark that she'd never seen before entered those old blue eyes. "Better than I have in ages." With emphasis, he added, "Thank you. For everything."

"My pleasure," she crooned, smiling deeply and feeling a bit flustered by his sweet response. Then, suddenly becoming more aware of herself, she mentally reeled. Maker's breath, was that... did I just flirt with Loghain? There was a sort of delicious tension in the air that she'd never felt before and it was rather hard to resist. However, it was also rather awkward and, considering it had taken her until just now to notice Leliana hovering oh-so-innocently in the background, the Warden decided it was time to ease the moment with bad puns and a shift in focus. Putting on her best smarmy expression, she jested, "So, is that a new bow in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Rather than either chuckle or put on a chagrined face, as Kallian was most accustomed to Loghain doing in reaction to her often odd humor, he instead appeared suddenly uncomfortable and self-conscious, which threw her off-guard. He gazed down at the bow for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, he looked back up and held the bow out towards the elf, resting it across his palms in presentation. "It is a new bow," he answered, his tone unusually soft. "Your new bow. I was just warming it up for you."

Kallian felt at a loss for words and settled for slack-jawed wonder. Hesitantly, she reached out and gingerly lifted the shortbow. She was no expert on that type of weaponry herself, but it appeared to be quite sophisticated and lovingly crafted. As her gaze roamed over its supple body, her artist's eyes took in the very fine details: carvings formed a twisted vine of feathers that wrapped around the shaft while the interspersed gaps were filled with etchings she surmised belonged to the ancient tongue of the Dalish. Running her fingertips along the wood, she recognized the feel of ironbark and quickly connected the dots - Varathorn had made it.

From her peripheral vision, the Warden saw Loghain continually shift his weight from one leg to the other, arms tucked behind his back. Is he... actually nervous? she wondered, and then it dawned on her: he was anticipating her verdict on a bow he'd commissioned for her.

For a time, the elf did not know how to react. So often she had been the giver of gifts, but almost never the recipient of one. Her parents had given her presents, of course, and sometimes she received something from Soris or Shianni as tokens of family. But all of that was just that - family. This was... something entirely different altogether. The only thing she'd received outside of family was a rose from Alistair, and that was a painful memory she didn't wish to dwell upon. Suffice it to say, it had been a sweet and appreciated gesture, but one that had held far more meaning for him than for her. Which made this moment even odder, since she was not an adept archer and Loghain knew this, and yet he'd given her a custom bow. Which meant this should have been an item holding more meaning to him than to her, but for some reason Kallian found herself surprisingly excited by it and deeply touched. The gesture was equally practical as it was thoughtful - so very... Loghain.

When she finally tore her eyes off the bow, Loghain was watching her warily. She could imagine him second-guessing himself, having given her something that she very well could have resented. Feeling a bloom swell within her, Kallian stepped forward and ended the warrior's painful wait with a long, tight hug. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she whispered into his ear, "Thank you, Loghain. This is a beautiful, thoughtful gift."

He tensed up under her embrace, as if either surprised by her response or unsure how to respond himself. Then, he lightly patted her back before hesitantly leaving his hand to rest there for a moment. The elf released him from the awkward hold but remained close, looking up into his eyes expectantly; after all, she'd just thanked him, so that warranted some type of response, right?

He stared back at her, but with none of the harsh intensity she was used to. Instead, there was a softness in his eyes, a warmth that seemed so foreign from the usual icy, steely gaze. Kallian suddenly thought of them as rather beautiful, a realization that gave her nervous goosebumps. She wanted to look away, feeling uncomfortable with whatever shift had obviously occurred in their relationship, but found herself transfixed. She wondered if he felt the same, and then wondered why she'd thought that and why it seemed so important to her. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, the Warden chuckled quietly and gave a cockeyed grin.

Loghain was the first to break their shared reverie, clearing his throat and abruptly looking away. As if just remembering something important, he turned aside and bent towards a nearby bench. Kallian temporarily caught Leliana's expression from a short distance away. The bard had a huge, Cheshire-cat smile planted across her face. The elf glared half-hearted daggers before the warrior blocked her view again. Appearing encouraged by her positive reaction to the bow, Loghain gave a small smile and handed her an equally-detailed leather quiver. "Matching set," he explained.

Holding her new bow in one hand, Kallian took the quiver and studied it. The Grey Wardens' rampant griffon practically jumped off the surface at her, so prominently was it displayed front and center. She also noted that much of the leather was carved with feathers, she assumed to keep in theme with the griffon. Beneath the creature were more etchings that, sadly, she couldn't read.

And then her studious eyes fell onto a Dalish symbol she recognized - eyes surrounded by a mask of leaves. Kallian was no expert on the old elven pantheon of gods and goddesses, but she knew this was the mark of Mythal the Protector. She had found the symbol so fascinating that she'd asked about it back when she'd first met the Dalish. Compared to the other symbols - which, for the most part, did not appear to form anything coherent - Mythal's leafy eyes were an arresting contrast. Underneath, little sticks and loops merged together in a style similar to that on the bow... more Elvish, she guessed.

"There's one more thing here for you," ventured Loghain.

"Goodness, you've outdone yourself!" the elf exclaimed, struggling to shift the bow and quiver around so she could free up a hand. Once settled, she looked back up in time to see the former teyrn pull out a scrap of parchment and hold it out towards her. Though Kallian hid it outwardly, inside she began to panic. Surely he'd expect her to read it here and now, and she'd be forced to finally confess her embarrassing inadequacy. "Oh," she said, voice slightly raised, "is that a note?" The Warden's brain scrambled to think of some way to stall the inevitable moment.

Just then, Leliana swooped in for the rescue. In one, smooth motion, the red-head rushed up from behind Loghain, quickly snatched the paper out of his grip, and retreated to stand beside Kallian. "Ooooh, what's this? A love letter, perhaps?" she asked, perfectly acting the part of 'nosy friend' while she quickly read over the sheet. Then, feigning disappointment, she complained, "Most of this is Elvish gibberish. How boring."

Utterly seething, Loghain seized the paper back. "I believe you were about to leave, yes?" he growled, eyes threatening severe repercussions if the bard didn't obey.

Screwing her face up in disgust, Leliana sarcastically spat, "Very subtle, Loghain." She quickly turned her back on him, caught Kallian's eyes, gave her a quick wink, and sauntered off towards the main encampment. The elf stared after her friend for several moments, filled with gratitude. The bard had managed not only to give her enough information about what the note said so that she could easily play it off, but did so without arousing the former general's suspicions. Well, other than further convincing him that he disliked the Orlesian-accented archer, but that was no real cause for concern, considering the two got along like cats and dogs anyway.

Kallian turned back around, shot her fellow Grey Warden a sheepish smile, and shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry about that. You know how Leliana can be sometimes."

"Bah!" he spat and waved a hand in dismissal. "Hardly your fault, although I still question her recruitment." Clearing his throat, he once more held the sheet out to her. "I believe we left off right about here."

Chuckling, the Warden took the parchment and gave the appearance of carefully looking it over. Then, shaking her head slightly, she said, "While I appreciate the gesture, I'm afraid I can't make heads or tails of Elvish." She handed the paper back to him. "That's just one of the many parts of our ancestry that city elves have lost."

Loghain looked down between his feet. For a moment, Kallian worried she had inadvertently said or done something to bother him. However, she caught a glance at his expression and saw that he was merely thinking. After a short while, he raised his head and gestured towards the short, backless bench. "Have a seat and I'll translate it for you."

The elf gaped at him in open surprise as she sat down. "You... know Elvish?"

"Not really, but Varathorn went over a few phrases with me," he admitted, sitting next to her. "Let's see the bow again first."

Setting the quiver gently on the ground by her feet, Kallian laid the bow across their laps. Despite it being a shortbow, it reached across them both due to the bench's stubby length. Overall, the Warden found the whole situation rather exciting. During all their shared watches and downtime at camp, they'd been together quite often, but never so physically close. Now, they'd just hugged for the first time and were practically flush against each other while sitting on what could only be described as a glorified footstool.

"I'll probably find some way to bollocks this up," his voice broke though her thoughts once again, "but I'll try not to butcher it too badly." Clearing his throat, Loghain pointed to the first line of rolling text along the top half of the bow. He lightly ran a fingertip over it, then furrowed his brow and double-checked Varathorn's writing. "All right," he said, squinting a little, "this reads: 'Vir Assan'. It means that, like the arrow, one must fly straight and never waver." Glancing back at the bow, he traced the words wrapping around the bottom half and, after consulting the sheet again, explained, "This one is 'Vir Bor'Assan'. It says that one should be like the bow, bending but never breaking."

Kallian alternated between gazing at Loghain's face and glancing at his pointing finger. She was surprised, still, that he had taken such steps to give her something filled with so much thought and care. She was also rather proud that he was embracing elven culture to some degree, especially after what had happened with... but no, she refused to think about him and the Alienage anymore. She dealt with it better by not dealing with it at all, in her opinion.

Shifting her focus, she went back to reveling in the fact that he was teaching her some of the language of her own ancestors. It was so incredible, such a profound and endearing moment that she almost wanted to do something crazy, like... like... pinch his cheeks! Which somehow, oddly enough, led her mind back to those ridiculously tight pants he'd been forced into yesterday. And then she thought about another pair of cheeks that might be fun to pinch and immediately felt herself blushing at the naughty, unbidden thought. Where did that come from? she wondered. Simmer down, now.

Making an effort to concentrate on the etched phrases he pointed out, she noticed a set he hadn't shown her yet. She gestured to a line of text that seemed to split itself just above and below the handgrip in the middle of the bow. "What about this one?" she asked.

"Uh, that one..." Loghain trailed off and consulted the sheet again. "That one is 'Vir Adahlen' and is the Way of the Forest, which says that together we are stronger than the one."

"That's a rather... sweet... sentiment."

"It's not sweetness," the former teyrn grunted. "It's survival. Safety in numbers. A wheat field, composed of many individual stalks, can weather a storm much better than any one stalk can on its own. It's the same with an army, a city... there're many other examples. But those three tenets are, so Varathorn said, the wisdom of... oh, what was the name again?" He squinted at the parchment and sounded out, "An-dru-il, Goddess of the Hunt." At the Warden's snicker, he asked grumpily, "What? Did I mispronounce it?"

"No, nothing," she responded quickly. "You're fine." She hadn't meant to audibly laugh, but watching him study that sheet and try so hard to correctly pronounce everything had struck her as rather humorous. Not to mention rather... adorable, as frightening as it was to label Loghain with a word like that. He'd be either horrified or mortified, she inwardly giggled. Or possibly both.

"All right, then," he said, moving on. "Now, let's see that quiver."

Carefully leaning the bow against the bench, Kallian pulled the quiver up and onto her lap. It, unlike the shortbow, was short enough to fit just on her lap. It probably would have been proper simply to hand it over to him, but tempting fate seemed much more agreeable at the moment.

Loghain looked back and forth between her face and the quiver in her lap with an almost questioning expression, but apparently decided not to voice whatever thoughts he had. Instead, he plunged forward and pointed out the obvious first. "Naturally, you recognize the griffon."

"Of course."

"And just below it, logically, is the order's motto."

Once again, Kallian consciously masked any outward reaction, but inside she excitedly cheered. She knew the Grey Wardens' motto by heart and, now that she had something she knew was a written version of those three sentences, she had her first real key to reading. Granted, Leliana had kindly showed her a few things - mostly how to recognize place names on maps and signposts - but for the most part, the road and the Blight kept them both rather busy.

She stared at the line of scribbles - probably overly long, but she didn't care because here was a chance at breakthrough - and tried to reconcile the symbols she saw with the audible words she knew.

Okay, those first two letters, she thought to herself, are the same following each dot. Those dots must separate the sentences. And each sentence starts with the word 'in'. So, those two letters right there form the word 'in'. In... in... in... she repeated, trying to memorize the first word of the first full sentence she'd ever read in her life, all while trying not to visibly show her excitement.

"Warden?" Loghain asked, sounding a bit concerned.

The elf instantly resurfaced from her study. "Oh, sorry," she apologized sheepishly, "got lost in an old memory."

Appearing to take her at her word, the warrior continued with his translations. Pointing just below the mask of leaves, being careful not to accidentally brush against her thigh in the process, he said, "That's the last bit of Elvish. It reads: 'From one guardian to another, may you always feel Mythal the Protector's touch.'"

"Awww," Kallian remarked. "What a nice blend of Dalish and Grey Warden sentiments." After a moment's pause, she turned towards him and asked, "So, does my shortbow have a name?"

Loghain suddenly looked chagrined. Raising both eyebrows, he turned to her and admitted, "You know, I hadn't thought of that and Varathorn didn't mention giving it one himself. But you're right, every good weapon should have a name."

Pondering, the elf asked, "What was that last line of Elvish again?"

"'From one guardian to another,'" he repeated, eyeballing Varathorn's translation again, "'may you always feel Mythal the Protector's touch.'"

"Hmmmm," the Warden contemplated. "The Protector's Touch. I think I like that!"


That went rather well, Loghain thought, wholly pleased with himself. As marvelous as Kallian's bow had been, both in appearance and performance, a part of him had remained wary about her reaction. Given how jaded she felt towards archery and her self-described "abysmal" lack of talent, he'd hoped she wouldn't outright hate it or, worse, become resentful towards him for the rather bold gesture.

And it was a bold gesture on his part, whether or not the Warden fully realized it. Loghain had poured some of himself into the act: his belief in her ability to overcome her confidence issue as well as his belief in his own ability to help her reach her full potential. He had done so much this past year to hinder all of her efforts and ended up hurting much of Ferelden in the process; he owed it to both to try and make things easier now, to give all the aid he could.

Loghain did not enjoy admitting his faults, but when he blundered, he did at least try to set out and make things right again. As minor and nonsensical a comparison as it was, the first thought that popped into his head was the time he'd accidentally killed one of Celia's rose bushes and brought her a new one. Scratched himself right up in the process, too, but she'd been well worth it. Loghain chuckled quietly at the memory, then immediately sobered up as he realized he'd just compared her and the Warden again.

He knew it was very unlikely that the elf had picked up on any of his unspoken messages. However, some part of him hoped she might understand the deeper meaning behind the bow, even if it was just an underlying suspicion or question. It was certainly not something he felt comfortable just coming out and telling her. Maric had always been the one wearing his heart on his sleeve and waxing poetic on everything. Unceasingly, it had seemed at times.

Loghain, on the other hand, had never been a particularly verbose man, especially when it came to either his feelings or his own shortcomings. More than one person had accused him of being entirely incapable of stringing more than three or four sentences together at a time. And he almost never let anyone into his own carefully guarded thoughts, his own little inner world. After more than four decades of life, this old dog was set in his ways. He was a very private man, and that wasn't about to change now.

As his mind churned, Loghain continued to watch Kallian from the corner of his eye. She sat there silently, appearing lost in her own thoughts while she repeatedly traced the Grey Wardens' symbol and motto with her fingertips. After some time of shared silence, the former teyrn opened his mouth to suggest a first archery lesson when the elf beat him to speech.

"Loghain?"

"Yes, Warden?"

"There's one more thing I've been meaning to give you..."

"Maker's breath, woman!" he remarked, starting to wonder if she was determined to keep him forever in her debt. "Have you not already given far more than I deserve? My life was an unexpected mercy. What more could you possibly suggest?"

"Something that's been owed to you since your Joining," she answered cryptically, sliding her right hand into her front pants pocket and leaving it there. She took a deep breath, as if winding up for a speech. "As you well know," she began, "you joined our humble little group under... very unusual circumstances. There were some who questioned my judgement..."

"Can't imagine who that might have been," he sarcastically interjected.

"To be fair," Kallian continued, "I definitely questioned myself much worse." The elf turned towards him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "But I'm more confident than ever. The Grey Wardens have gained a new brother who has proven to be tough and intelligent and trustworthy. We are stronger for having you with us and I certainly know that I feel safe with you by my side. I'm sure the doubters will come around in time.

"Now," she continued, pulling her hand back out of her pocket but keeping it a closed fist, "I neglected to treat you fairly upon your Joining-"

"-Warden," Loghain tried to interrupt, but was quickly cut off.

"-no excuses," she continued. "You were not treated as a new Grey Warden should have been treated. With... my former comrade... leaving and all the other Fereldan Grey Wardens dead, that made me Commander. Regardless of the situation and our... past differences... I should have acted like one. But I didn't."

Pausing, Kallian hesitantly grabbed Loghain's right hand and pulled it towards her. She placed her closed fist on his palm and held it there. "Every new Grey Warden who survives the Joining is given a pendant, containing a small amount of darkspawn blood, as a token. A reminder of their duty and of those who have passed before them in the line of said duty."

Loghain attempted to speak again, to remind her that he was more than passingly familiar with duty and the sacrifices it demanded, but she shut him down again.

"Now," Kallian said rather forcefully to stop any objections, "you didn't really strike me as the pendant-wearing sort. So, I had something a little different made, but with the same message. And, because we do have some special circumstances here, I had a little extra added to it."

With that, the elf opened her fist. Loghain felt something relatively small drop into his palm. After she pulled her hand back, he looked down and saw that it was a signet ring. The warrior carefully picked it up with his left hand and studied it.

For such a little object, much detail had been crafted into it. Upon the very top was the Grey Warden griffon, surrounded by a varnished coat of brackish, black-red substance that could only be the bit of darkspawn blood the Warden had mentioned. On either side of the raised base, a rampant Mabari warhound - Ferelden's national symbol - stood at attention. It made sense and the meaning was clear: you are a Grey Warden first and foremost, but you are also still a Fereldan.

"I hope you don't mind," she interrupted, pointing towards the inner band, "but I did take the liberty of naming it."

He turned the ring slightly so that he could see the inside of it. Across the inside, underneath where the griffon and twin Mabaris stood, was one simple word inscribed in bold letters: Redemption. At first, the former teyrn wasn't quite sure if the name was inspirational or offensive. It wasn't exactly a topic they had discussed at any great length. However, there was one conversation he suddenly recalled...

"What would you have done, if you'd won?" the Warden asked, eyes wide and curious in the light of the campfire.

He paused and considered. "I suppose that depends on how much of the kingdom was left by then," he finally replied dryly. "Once the border was secure, the army would have regrouped to push back the darkspawn in the south."

"But the border was in no danger."

"That's easy to say now," he snapped. "When chevaliers were massing on our doorstep, things were a little less clear."

Frowning, she continued, "But how could you afford to divide our forces like that?"

"We couldn't," he scoffed, growing weary of her needling. "Epecially after Ostagar. It wan't an ideal plan, but it seemed necessary at the time." He sighed. "And now Ferelden's southern cities are paying for my miscalculation."

Neither Grey Warden said anything for several long moments. Then, unexpectedly, the elf shot him an encouraging smile and said, "Well, you're making up for that now. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Ask me again after we've won."

"Loghain," said the Warden, her tone as soft as a gentle caress and her eyes as genuine as they always were, "I'm glad you're here."

He felt his chest unexpectedly tighten and, for a moment, the former general was concerned that he might not be able to breathe again. His eyes suddenly felt moist for the second time in as many days - how vexing - and he blinked a few times to clear them, looking down at his feet and hoping the Warden had not spotted his reaction.

Closing his hand tightly around the ring, he sighed deeply, knowing what he felt he needed to do. The impulse took his mind back to a horse stable in Gwaren, confronted by Maric in the early morning hours of his attempted leavetaking. With stiff, tight movements, Loghain slid off the bench and awkwardly bent down on one knee in front of the elf. It took everything he had not to burst out laughing at the shocked and rather horrified expression she wore, again reminding him of that memory from so long ago.

"Your trust has been an unexpected offering, Warden, given our past... differences," he said, inwardly cringing at the amount of emotion his hoarse tone betrayed, "as is your friendship. But I thank you for them, all the same. You have given me a second chance, one that I daresay most others would not have felt merciful enough to allow. I have at least some chance now of putting right some of the things I have done..."

Loghain met Kallian's eyes earnestly then, looking as if he wanted to say more on that matter, but instead left it hanging for the time being. "All of this can rightly be called my fault. Whether or not you can do better remains to be seen. But if you can make this the end, Warden, I will follow you into the Fade itself, if asked. I swear it."

He stared back at the ground again, hoping his face didn't look half as flustered as he felt. It was rather irritating, sometimes, how well the elf could burrow under his skin. Even more irritating was the fact that he found himself not necessarily abhorring it - not nearly as much as he should, at any rate. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, feeling hopelessly conflicted.

Moments later, nimble fingers gently grasped his chin and tilted his head back. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were Kallian's warm, brown ones gazing down at him, almost shimmering in the morning light. The sight was both intoxicating and intimidating, for the look she gave him was changed somehow, as if she were offering an invitation. The hand cradling his chin lightly brushed a questioning thumb against his cheek, inducing an involuntary shiver.

Immediately, Loghain inwardly panicked, alarms going off everywhere inside his head. This was wrong. This was a bad idea; no, scratch that, this was a terrible idea. On several levels. For the both of them. He had to stop it now, early, nip it in the bud.

As the elf slowly lowered her face towards his, Loghain quickly stood back up and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Kallian pulled backwards just in time, swiftly avoiding getting smacked in the face by his sudden movement. Both Grey Wardens immediately averted their eyes and several moments of terribly awkward silence passed.

"So, uh," the elf broke the silence first, "why don't you see if that ring even fits you and then how about you help me get used to this beautiful new bow?" She shot him a rather apologetic, shy grin and, while a hint of disappointment hung in her eyes, the Warden otherwise appeared unflustered and professional.

"An excellent idea," he agreed, feeling a bit short of breath. Archery was comfortable territory. It was clinical. It was something he'd worked with his Night Elves on for many years. It was something he felt confident enough to perform without any extra... tension... that was regrettably developing between them.

Closing his eyes and clearing his mind, Loghain slipped the signet ring onto his left middle finger. A sudden, instant rush of strength and vigor flooded his body. He opened his eyes again, eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then, the sensation faded down to an undercurrent of energy buzzing inside, which eventually settled down enough to no longer notice. Loghain shot the Warden a pointed look. "Enchanted, obviously."

"Only the best for my men," she responded, giving him a little mocking bow.

Loghain chuckled, his nerves steadying as they eased back into their comfortable, familiar sarcastic retorts. "You know, I'm generally not fond of enchanted items," he said, "but I suppose this one isn't too offensive."

"Well, damn." The elf snapped her fingers and shook her head in a disappointed manner. "And here I was half-hoping you'd scream like a girl when you put it on, then bean it off my forehead in disgust." She shot him one of her trademark, cheeky grins.

The warrior snorted and furrowed his brow, turning serious. "Let me see your bow. Watch how I shoot."

Kallian handed over The Protector's Touch. Loghain took position, drew an arrow from the bucket, slowly and methodically took aim, drew back the string, and released the projectile. It flew straight and true, sinking into the center of the wooden target.

"Now," he announced, motioning the elf up, "let me see how you shoot. And don't forget your gloves... you're not nearly calloused enough yet to go without."

Blushing slightly and looking incredibly self-conscious, the Warden pulled on her drakeskin gloves and took hold of the bow as he handed it to her. She stood with her feet not quite properly apart or angled, but Loghain let it go for now, more interested in seeing the complete package so he could better deduce her points of improvement. She held the bow up with her left hand, which was all well and good, although trembling a bit. She notched the arrow and drew back, though not nearly far enough. Then, with very little faith or confidence, she suddenly let go of the string and pulled her hand back out of the way as if a snake had struck at her. The arrow quite literally flopped through the air before it gave up and futilely struck the ground several feet short of the intended target.

The elf turned towards him and gave a look that lamented, 'See? Completely useless.' Loghain shot her an encouraging smile and said, "The basic mechanics are there, Warden. You just need to adjust your form."

He walked up to her and looked over her stance again. "Angle yourself more," he ordered. "Imagine your feet stuck behind an imaginary line here." He traced an invisible, perpendicular line in front of her. "Your dominant hand is your right, correct?"

"Yes," she answered, nodding.

"Okay, then you want your left foot forward touching that line in your mind, facing your target," he explained, "and your right foot behind it and angled slightly outward."

Kallian tried to move as he directed, but was still a little off. Grunting in frustration, Loghain crouched down behind her, grabbed her left calf, and physically coaxed her leg into proper position. "Loosen up, would you?" he growled. "Being stiff as a board won't help your aim."

"Sorry," she said, although she didn't sound very apologetic. "I was suddenly distracted by the fact that you're in perfect ass-kissing position."

The former teyrn went stark still. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. Opened it. Closed it.

Glancing out the corner of her eye at him, the Warden wickedly chuckled, "I suppose asking for a little spanking while you're down there is out of the question, then?"

Loghain glared daggers at her, but there wasn't much he could do to stop the red from creeping into his face. Looking back down, he silently repeated the process on her right leg, albeit a little more forcefully. He started to suspect the Warden was baiting him on purpose, as revenge for his denying her attempted kiss. He stood up again and retreated a few steps. "All right," he continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "the next step is to breathe deeply and focus. Concentrate."

Kallian suppressed any further smart-aleck remarks and followed his advice. Holding the position he'd set her in, she focused on breathing and visibly relaxed. After a few moments, the Warden looked calmly over at him, awaiting the next step.

"Now, choose your target wisely. I'd suggest the closest one for now until you become more comfortable."

"Okay," she breathed. The elf grabbed an arrow, notched it, brought the bow up, and picked out her target.

The warrior loudly cleared his throat. "No, Warden," he corrected. "You're putting the cart before the oxen. Eye your target carefully, then start to aim."

"All right," she answered, sounding as if she wasn't entirely sure she understood the difference between what she'd done and what he'd told her. However, he saw that she at least subconsciously understood it as she studied the wooden circle and her distance from it, then kept her eyes glued on her goal as she raised the shortbow once more.

"Now, hold," he ordered. The elf froze. Loghain closed the gap between them again and circled around her once. "Arrow placement looks very good," he casually commented. "Centered perfectly. Feathers in proper position." After a moment, he continued, "This is where bows differ. On the longbow, you were taught to draw first, then sight down the arrow."

"Yes," she confirmed.

He nodded. "Your shortbow is a different animal. It requires less strength to pull, but sacrifices comfortable aim. Meaning you need to aim as well as you can first, then draw back in one precise, fluid motion. Once you've got the right spot memorized, you'll find it much easier and faster to fire."

"That sounds better." Kallian held the bow and arrow out in front of her and sighted down the shaft. Then, she drew the string back.

"Hold," Loghain ordered again. He came up behind the Warden and carefully surveyed her form. Some parts were right, others were dreadfully off. It would be easier for her to remember if she felt a proper release, he thought.

Then, all business, he closed the gap between them and stood flush against her, as if they were just one archer. He felt more than heard her sudden intake of breath, but dutifully ignored it. Reaching out, he covered her left hand with his and guided the bow up a little, then slightly left of the goal. Heads nearly side-by-side, he quietly advised, "If there is no wind, always aim a little high and a little left. Trust me, an arrow does not fire straight on like you'd think."

Next, he turned his head and glanced at her right arm. Far too elevated. He gently placed his right hand on her elbow and lowered it back down so her arm was more level. Looking back towards the wooden circle in the distance, his head now brushing alongside hers as he sighted, he fervently tried to ignore how much heat radiated from her body and how she'd begun to tremble slightly against him. He quickly cleared his throat. "Now, the most important part," he continued, "picture hitting your target with the perfect strike. Mentally see the shot you're about to fire." Loghain gave her a moment to do so, then asked, "Ready?"

"I think so," she said, voice light as a sigh.

"Good," he breathed, mouth next to her ear. "Remember this position. This is where you want to be every time you fire. Memorize exactly how it feels."

"I... I don't think I could ever forget how this feels right now," she whispered.

Loghain struggled to swallow around the sudden, nervous lump in his throat. Focusing on the task at hand - which certainly was not about noticing just how lean-muscled the elf pressing against his chest felt - the former general gave his final instruction. "Release, but do not suddenly let go. Instead, simply relax your fingers. Let the tension slowly slide from your grip."

Kallian did so. They both watched fixedly as the arrow arced gracefully through the air and pierced the wooden target slightly inside the bullseye. Loghain smiled broadly, turning his head back towards the Warden. They both locked eyes again, mutual excitement permeating the air from their success. The elf's face was flushed and glowing, her grin a mile wide.

Just as he began to realize how surprisingly pleasant and right it felt with her cradled in his arms, Loghain quickly caught hold of himself and broke their unusual embrace. As if on cue, a few Dalish approached the archery field as the rest of the camp's inhabitants finally began to stir. They nodded a silent greeting to the pair.

"Well," concluded Loghain, swallowing a bit louder than intended, "I believe that's enough practice for one day."


Author's Note: Reviews are a gift from the Maker. Just sayin'.

Dalish language & culture: Da'len is Dalish for "little child"; Shartan was the Dalish leader who fought alongside Andraste for freedom from the Tevinter magisters; Sylaise (the Hearthkeeper) is the Dalish goddess of the home and family

Some interesting song inspirations this time...

Kallian Procrastinates) "Hand In My Pocket" by Alanis Morissette

Presenting The Protector's Touch) The instrumental "La Serenissima" by Loreena McKennitt

The Gift-Giving & Archery Scene had several... Kallian's thoughts are best summed up with "Drumming Song" by Florence + the Machine and "The Only Exception" by Paramore; honorable mentions include "Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg (okay, so it's not a coffee shop, but I just can't get past the appropriately tentative "I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you...") and, as far as instrumentals go, "Evenstar" from the Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers soundtrack BECAUSE I'M SUCH A DORKY, ROMANTIC SAP. Also, awesomely coincidental that it's the love theme of another human/elf couple. ;) Loghain's thoughts are probably best relayed with "It's Bad For Me" by Rosemary Clooney.

And as promised, here is the scoop on the artwork for this chapter. The artist is the great and powerful YamiSnuffles who, to me, is a master at creating very upbeat and whimsical drawings. While our two main characters are actually NOT wearing their normal armor in this particular scene of the chapter, I honestly couldn't say no to the Epic Armor of Awesomeness that is the Armor of River Dane, so I had her throw them both in their regular armor. Linky-link to the shinies: Hmmm, since this site does not like links, use this (remove the spaces): yamisnuffles. deviantart .com / gallery / 29652009# / d46b8pf