-oo-

Chapter 11 – Surprises

"Well, there it is," Oghren announced as the party stood at the bustling main gates to the city of Amaranthine.

"Am…ah…ran…theen. And a better collection of Chantry scum and rogues, you'll never find – except of course in Denerim…Or Orzammar…and that crappy place in Redcliffe that served watered down ale…Oh, and…"

"Yes, yes, we get it, Oghren," Jowan shifted his pack so that it 'inadvertently' clipped the Dwarf around the side of his hairy red head. As though his neck was made of rubber, Oghren's head snapped back, wobbling from side to side.

"I'll remember that when you're lyin' face down in the dirt, choking on your own vomit, Mage…" Oghren growled up at him menacingly.

"Gentlemen…" Zevran diplomatically inserted himself between the two men, placing a calming hand on their respective shoulders. He smiled sweetly; mostly because the guards at the gate were observing these well-armed newcomers with suspicion. He threw them a nod of acknowledgement. "We should move on," Zevran suggested, "before we draw too much attention to ourselves."

"Eh?" Oghren groused. "You wanna be eeg-cog neato with Old Grumpy Grumbles Grey Warden here?"

Jowan eyed Alistair's plate armour thoughtfully. He transferred his gaze briefly across the crowd. Nope. No one else here wore fancy, shiny plate armour with a great big dancing Griffon on the front. Perhaps they should have put him in something else…? And there was no denying Alistair stood out – shiny armour or not. The Redcliffe Knights were well-known for their ornate red mail and plate. Were the entire contingent of them turn up for a bit of sea air and sunbaking, their Warden Commander would still stand out. Large, glaring, angry looking men in big armour always drew the kind of attention Jowan did not like. He'd spent most of his life in the Tower of Magi, keeping his head down and trying to be good. Excepting that whole Blood Mage recruiting thing, poisoning a member of the nobility, having an affair with an Apostate, conspiring with said Apostate to magically deceive a senior Grey Warden and fathering a God Child…he'd been a fine, upstanding citizen.

Warden's honour.

"I see no reason why we shouldn't be here," Alistair informed them, frowning at the crowds. There seemed to be a large number of people simply loitering around at the main gates. Shouldn't they be going into the city? Some people had erected rather ramshackle tents and lean-to's. Judging by the number of muddy children playing around them, they had been here for some time…was that usual in these parts? Thinking he might find some answers in the city itself, he headed through the gates.

"Does anyone remember that the Warden Commander should be on his way to Vigils Keep?" Leliana bristled.

"Don't need to," Oghren wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "When you're doing such a good job rememberin' for us."

"Are you so eager to meet your fellow Orlesians, my dear Leliana?" Zevran asked softly, trying to divine exactly what it was that was bothering their resident Bard.

"Not at all," Leliana raised her chin haughtily. "But someone needs to remind that…Recalcitrant of his duty!"

Zevran's eyes narrowed. He remembered having a similar conversation with her a year and a half ago, when the question of occupying the throne had come up. Leliana had argued then for Alistair taking up the position – but surely that subject had been concluded to everyone's satisfaction by now? What benefit could she possibly have for constantly prodding Alistair to take up command…? Or was it a title that she was interested in? If so, she was certainly not working in her best interests by constantly antagonising the man.

Regardless of her motives or strategy, he was tired of this discussion. The subject of her argument had long disappeared into the city and his throat was far too parched to continue.

"Well duty can take a running leap, for all I care," Oghren growled. "The only duty I'm interested in lies in the bottom of a tankard."

"He is the Hero of Ferelden," Leliana persisted stubbornly. "Of all people, he should know that he cannot spend his days wandering aimlessly. How long does he think he can continue to live this way?"

Pursing his lips, Zevran folded his arms across his chest. "You think our Warden Commander has not done enough for his country?" he asked with deceptive amiability.

"I…" Leliana's eyes flashed angrily. "That is not…!"

"Ah…quit your jabberin'," Oghren prodded them both impatiently with his finger. "While I see Red's point – Warden Commander doesn't play noble, people are going to think the Orlesians are invadin' again – and Grey Wardens too. It'll be like Soldier's Peak all over again, except with better cheese." He turned to Leliana. "But like the Elf says – how many time's the little Pike Twirler's gonna have to save the world before someone else volunteers for the job? If it were me, I'd tell the whole lot of 'em to sod off and retire somewhere warm where the ladies are warmer and the ale's nicely chilled. Plus…" Oghren trailed off, lowering his voice. "You know as well as I do why he's wanderin' aimlessly."

"Exactly, Oghren!" Leliana threw her hands up in the air. "He needs purpose; something to occupy his mind. How will he learn to move on otherwise?"

There was a rude sound behind them. Jowan pushed to the front. He glared at Leliana with such fire; she blanched, shrinking back against Zevran.

"I'm tired of you and this conversation," he spat at her vehemently. "This is none of your business. Either go home, or shut the hell up!"

Hitching his pack up his shoulder again, he swept a look of pure disgust over them all. Turning his back on them, he stepped through the gates of the city.

-oo-

"Here…"

"Merran, are you sure this time?"

Wynne appeared at her shoulder. The passage was strewn with the remains of wild animals and what looked like stalagmites, but had turned out to be some kind of…cocoon. They had trod carefully, following the path through the Dwarven ruins, after the first encounter with the things that had slithered out of them. Shale had taken great pleasure stomping on them – especially if they had been occupied at the time.

The golem stood looking at them speculatively now, possibly willing something to emerge so she could despatch them as messily as she could. Propped up against her, looking pale and tired, was Marduk. They would dearly have liked to have been able to stop for a while to allow the young Dwarf some more recovery time, but he had insisted they continue on. Dwarves were tough; and he was eager to prove it – and himself.

The cocoons had a dried up look them, which had encouraged Merran to come this way, sure that she had felt a breeze of fresher air blow from this direction.

The passage had narrowed to about shoulder width; which might prove a problem for Shale, but…Wynne pushed her face forward, sniffing at the air.

"It does seem promising…I think I see light ahead," Wynne squinted. "Sunlight."

Sunlight…Merran turned the word over in her head, thinking how wonderful it sounded. She began to move forward when she felt Wynne's hand on her shoulder. She knew immediately what it meant.

Grimacing apologetically, she reassured the older Mage, "I'm just going to scout ahead."

She didn't have to go far before the ground dipped sharply. There were pools of water here, ink-dark and sullen. Merran studiously avoided them, careful where she placed her feet. A little further on the ground sloped upwards. In the dim light Merran saw that there was a narrow set of stone steps, leading to what looked like a door, half broken and fallen off its ancient hinges. It was through here that the sunlight had shone.

"There's a door…!" she called back to the others. As she looked back at the area around her, she noticed more of those horrible cocoon things, hoping that they too had been long free of their hatchlings. "And there's more than enough room for Shale!"

A cracking sound heralded part of the ceiling behind her collapsing before Shale appeared; covered in rubble and dust. Marduk and Wynne came through next, hands clasped over their faces against the dust. Marduk limped up the stairs, testing the door.

"It's wedged," he told them, but if Lady Shale would do the honours…"

Shale's mouth crooked upwards before she battered the door down with a single swing of her mighty fist. The door shattered – not too bad considering it too, was made of stone. Sunlight bloomed through the opening Shale had made and as one, despite the choking dust, they breathed the outside air. Shale was the first to exit, one hand coming up to shield her eyes against the glare of sunlight. Merran squeezed through next, eager to be outside. She giggled, dancing a little jig, until she realised what lay on the ground around them.

"Eww…" She picked up a foot, hopping over to the nearest rock to scrape the remains of one of the hatchlings from the bottom of her boot.

Wynne emerged, holding her nose. "Andraste's flaming nosehairs!" she exclaimed.

"There's been a battle here," Marduk remarked, well aware his observation was redundant. He poked a dead Hurlock with his foot. "Recently too."

"More of those worm-like things, blech." Merran stood, fists on hips, surveying the mess. "But…" she frowned. "Only Darkspawn…usually there are, you know…"

Marduk came to stand beside her. "Dwarves?" he supplied helpfully. "Humans? Kardol said the Darkspawn had been acting oddly lately."

"They've been spontaneously expiring on their own?" Merran asked hopefully.

Marduk shook his head. "No. He says they've been…fighting each other." He chuckled at her expression. "Yeah, I had that face too when he told me."

"Well, whoever – or whatever they are," Wynne said, looking into the sky, trying to gauge the angle of the sun. "I have no desire to meet them. The sooner we are away from here, the happier I will be."

Marduk too looked up into the sky. He stood staring upwards, transfixed, until Merran gave him a nudge.

"That's a…long way up…" He breathed. "It's…It's so…blue…"

"Yeah," Merran rested her hand on his shoulder. "Brilliant, isn't it? Just wait until the sun goes down and the stars come out – and you've got to see the sunsets and sunrises!"

A voice clearing itself impatiently caused her to look sheepish. Wynne was right. They did need to be out of here soon, but if Darkspawn was about, was anywhere safe?

"If you're feeling like you're falling upwards," she told Marduk gently, "just focus on the ground."

"Oh, I don't care," Marduk told her, clenching his hands into determined fists. There was no way he was going to falter in front of her now. He shook his head as he swayed slightly. Gritting his teeth, he took a few calming breaths.

"The surface…right," he muttered. "Right. Let's go."

-oo-

Oghren led the way through the clamouring city. Amaranthine was very much like Denerim; if Denerim were to be squashed down to half its size, transferred to a collapsed sea cliff and smeared liberally with five-day old fish. There was no designated market area as such; merchants plying their wares along the streets wherever they could find a space big enough to erect a display table and attract customers. Their cries rang out the same way as everywhere else in Ferelden, while gentlemen and ladies strolled, soldiers patrolled and pickpockets thrived. Oghren felt a sting of pride. No matter where one went in Ferelden, nothing changed…

The Crown and Lion was located, ironically within good view of the large Chantry Cathedral. Whether placement had been intentional or not, Oghren didn't care, the tavern's ale barrels called to him in their sweet, wheat and barley siren song. He followed his nose right up to the door. Sniffing rapturously, he led them inside.

"I can smell fifteen types of ale in here," he announced dreamily. "But I think I'll go for the…" His eyes snapped open. "They got some Orzammar stout! Well, I never! All the way over here…!"

"Yeah," a disgruntled female voice chimed in. "I wonder why that is."

The compansions turned as a rather pretty, flame-haired female Dwarf stepped up to Oghren and slapped him twice – one slap per cheek – then taking a hold of both shoulders, kneed him hard in a place that made him double over with a loud grunt, eyes crossing.

"Fels…" Oghren squeaked, knees collapsing beneath him. "How're you doing?"

"Oh me and the baby's just doing fine, you useless pile of nug droppings," she snapped.

She crossed her arms across her chest. "So," she said, shifting her feet slightly to make it quite clear she was happy to repeat her congenial greeting to him. "Where the Stone have you been?"

"Oh, uh…" Oghren laughed nervously, straightening slightly, hands covering his parts protectively. "Here and there," he tried joking. "You know how it is…The life of a Hero of Ferelden..."

"No, actually I don't," the Dwarf woman snapped. "Because thanks to your drunken meandering all over the country, I have no idea."

"Oghren."

Alistair appeared behind the red-haired, angry Dwarf as though by magic, another armoured man beside him. "An introduction would be appreciated."

Oghren cleared his throat – the Dwarf woman glared at him expectantly. A nervous, sober Oghren who found it hard to string two words together was a sight to behold - and remember later for opportunities for embarrassment.

"Ah well…" he laughed brokenly, looking pale and scared. "Funny thing happened to me on the way to the Blight…" he began.

"Yes?" Alistair prompted, his tone of voice indicating more than his family jewels were at stake if he continued to delay responding.

"Got married," Oghren chuckled nervously, as though expecting an entire mountain to collapse on top of his head any moment – or perhaps wishing it would happen so he wouldn't have to explain all of this – or face this terrifying woman. "Had a kid…well had one before…but had to make an honest woman out of her…"

The woman snorted her opinion of 'honest'.

"Well anyway," he risked a single hand to gesture at the red-haired Dwarf. "This is Felsi…Felsi, meet uh…the Warden Commander…"

The Dwarven woman looked up, transferring her angry gaze from Oghren to glare at Alistair. Before she could speak however, Alistair gave a bark of laughter that had absolutely nothing to do with humour whatsoever.

"You?" Alistair asked in disbelief. "Married with a child? That's…terrifying…! Who let you do that?"

-oo-

A/N: Don't worry, Oghren isn't turning into Obi Wan Kenobi. I just couldn't resist…he misquotes like crazy anyway.

Also, a rather belated big thank you to those who have left reviews, especially suggestions and tips. I'm just flying by the seat of my pants here…circling…looking for a spot to land…