They descended into the Bannorn the following day. The fertile plains of central Ferelden had not fully recovered from the ravages of Blight and civil war before the latest round of conflict. Still, it was pleasant country, flat and easy to traverse.
Hawke remained subdued, though his wound showed no sign of festering. But they made good time following the little tracks that linked farms and village markets across the Bannorn. There were few places large enough to support a real inn, but there were many village taphouses which served as the focus of social life in the region, along with the chantries.
Some were livelier than others. One evening, Alistair and Hawke found themselves approaching a brewery so boisterous they could hear the voices well beyond the palisade that marked the village boundary. As they came nearer, the noise subsided to a murmur and a lute and singer could be heard. Not so unusual in Orlais where jongleurs were everywhere, but far less common in backwater villages in Ferelden.
Hawke's clear blue eyes lit up at the sound, and he smiled in a way he hadn't since they fought the red men. Alistair wondered if the song wafting across the night air reminded him of his childhood. It was a well-known old Ferelden song. "Come, we should join them, Alistair."
Alistair sighed. "Very well." He did not feel festive. He had spent the previous night dreaming of Darkspawn. And his head was throbbing even more than usual from the whining tone in his ears.
They entered the place which was filled with a merry crowd of locals. Heads turned at the sight of the armored strangers but faces seemed welcoming enough.
"Come for a flagon of the best beer in the Bannorn?" asked a young woman with pink cheeks and long brown hair.
Hawke laughed and said, "That we have. So it's the beer that draws the crowd, not the pretty girls?" He asked with a wink. Hawke's cheeriness surprised him, but Alistair had not learned to predict his mood shifts. He was not even sure if they were real or feigned sometimes.
The serving girl flushed slightly and glanced toward a ruddy-faced, middle-aged man behind the bar. Her father? In any case, she ignored the wink, saying only that she would be back with beer. "...though I'm afraid we have no more chairs."
"Come, Alistair, we should gather what news of the Bannorn we can. And perhaps, have a little fun on the way." He leaned over and whisper to a young woman with long blonde braids, leaning against one of the posts supporting the roof. She tittered nervously but did not move away.
Their beer soon arrived and Hawke continued to converse with the blonde, and a tall woman with black hair in a dark green cloak. Alistair stood a little apart, sipping his beer and watching the convivial crowd.
After light-hearted conversation and another round of beer, Alistair overheard Hawke turning toward more serious matters. "...so have things been peaceful hereabouts? I've heard a lot of wild tales on the road these past weeks."
"Not so bad round here, but I heard there were terrible monsters in the southwestern part of the Bannorn," said the dark-haired woman. Her eyes flickered over toward Alistair.
"What kind of monsters?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Scary ones? What do I know of monsters? Even during the Blight, I never saw any Darkspawn. My parents never let me out of the house."
"I heard there were Demons. That's what Conan said, and his brother was a Templar..." said a short, red-bearded man to the woman's right.
"Did he actually see them though?" The blonde sounded skeptical. "People tell tall tales."
"I bet they were. But I heard the Herald of Andraste's fixed them. They say she's been bringin' order to all the lands in the southwest," declared a tall young man with steel gray eyes that matched his cloak. A cluster of people had begun to form around them.
Another man, equally tall, but middle aged, red-faced and beefy shouted. "The so-called Herald of Andraste is a heretic! The Grand Cleric has-"
"Your precious Grand Cleric is just jealous 'cause people are listening to the Herald. She's at least doing something 'stead of just talk, wringing their hands while the bloody Templars rampage around the countryside!" retorted the gray-eyed man.
Sensing a brawl about to happen, the brewmaster came over, hands on his hips. "Knock it off, or I'll have Duncan throw you both out!" The angry pair glared at each other and retreated muttering. The small crowd that had gathered split in half, backed away to opposite sides of the common room.
Hawke drained his second flagon and shouted out for another four flagons, one each for the women, and another for Alistair who was barely halfway through his last.
He shook his head. The ale was strong and he had headaches enough without adding a hangover. Hawke glared at him, but then gave a quick smile. He sidled up to the grey-eyed man who had talked about the Herald and offered him the flagon. "Come join me and my friends. Let us drink to the Herald of Andraste," he said softly.
An arched eyebrow above cool gray eyes. "Are you her scouts? I wondered what brought men like you-warriors-to this village."
"No...but my friend wishes to join her cause." He glanced toward Alistair.
"You don't?"
Hawke shrugged. "Perhaps. I need to know more. Do you know how to contact her scouts."
"I'm just a farmer. And even if I did know, I wouldn't know if I should tell. She's got enemies, ya know. And everyone knows Haven in the mountains in the west is her base. Anything else I heard is rumors."
He chuckled. "Fair enough to be cautious. But tell us rumors, then."
The blonde sighed. "This is getting boring. I want to dance." She tugged on Iain's arm.
He smiled at her. "In a moment, Alina. We are trying to find the Herald. I should at least see if he knows something."
"Well, I heard she's gone to Redcliffe, to make an alliance with the mages. But I don't know if it's true, people claim she's been in a lot of places: Val Royeaux, the Storm Coast, even the Korcari wilds."
"He don't know where she is. He's just a villager like the rest of us." She tugged on his arm again.
"Come, Alistair. You should join us on the dance floor. How long is it since you've danced?"
Danced? Not since before Aedan disappeared.
"I think Caelan would like to dance with you," Hawke said, inclining his head toward the dark-haired woman.
"No!" said Alistair, more harshly than he intended. "Hawke, I'm tired. I'm going to set up camp. You-do what you want." His head hurt.
Hawke sighed and took Alina's hand and began the steps of a galliard to the jongleur's tune. But his eyes stayed on Alistair as he left the brewery.