They lingered over their meal perhaps a little longer than they should have, both Zevran and Teagan liking their food and enjoying talking Fereldan politics while they ate. Fenris did not enjoy the meal as much as they did; the menu ran heavily to fish, and he had little to no idea of who the people they spoke of were, or what the issues they were discussing meant. As a consequence, he was feeling a little disgruntled by the time they left the inn.
The distant clouds had moved much closer while they ate. Zevran and Teagan both frowned at the sky. "Should we stay, or go?" Zevran asked.
Teagan pressed his lips together, brow furrowing, then shrugged. "Go, I'd say. That looks like it'll be rather a nasty storm once it arrives; I'd rather have to push through the start of it to reach Rainesfere than be stuck here for what might be several days."
Zevran nodded thoughtfully. "I would agree with that. And if we find we must stop, we are at least well-equipped for it."
Teagan smiled. "That we are," he agreed.
They retrieved their mounts and continued on their way, pushing the pace a little to make as much distance as they could before the storm arrived. They talked little, too busy watching the road to make sure they kept their horses to safe footing. A slick patch, a hole, either could spell injury or even death for the animals.
Fenris' irritation subsided, lost in his enjoyment of travel. The terrain was interesting; he'd thought the Frostbacks would be much like the Vimmark mountains, but they were not, rearing significantly higher into the sky, sheer cliffs of stone showing here and there through their coating of snow. "They must be covered with snow year round," he remarked to Zevran, marvelling at their height, and knowing that the tallest peaks of the Vimmark Mountains were snow-capped even in the hottest summer weather.
It was Bann Teagan who answered, turning to look back over his shoulder at the two elves. "They are; not just snow, either, there are places up in the peaks where there are vast areas of ice. Glaciers, they're called. The mountain-folk claim they flow like rivers, but very slowly. I have been high enough to see one once, years ago; the edge of it was all fractured and melting, and yet my guide told me that the last time he had been there, the edge had been some distance uphill."
"Interesting. I would like to see that some time."
"As would I," agreed Zevran. "But not, I hope, on this trip."
It grew dark early, between the season, the mountains to their west, and the clouds rapidly filling the sky. And with the clouds came snow; heavy snow that only became thicker and more wind-driven as time passed, so that they needed to make use of a torch to find their way, as he and Zevran had needed to when caught in the storm they'd encountered on their way to Redcliffe. Fenris was not particularly worried at first; Teagan seemed to know his way, even with the reduced visibility, and neither he nor Zevran seemed overly concerned about the worsening conditions; they had, after all, expected to be overtaken by the storm before reaching Rainesfere.
Teagan eventually pulled his horse to a stop and turned it in circles, peering around while shielding his face from the blowing snow. There was little to be seen now, just darkness and snow and the merest suggestions of trees to either side of them.
"Is something the matter?" Zevran called out as he kneed his horse closer to Teagan's, Fenris following suit so that he too could hear what was said.
Teagan moved closer to them before answering. "No... only that we are not as far as I thought we would be by now, and the snow is still worsening. I fear we will not make Rainesfere tonight after all."
Zevran frowned, then nodded, and shrugged. "Shall we find a place to make camp then?"
"I don't think that will be necessary... if we're where I think we are, there should be a fork in the road somewhere ahead, and a village just a mile or so off the main road."
"And if we're not where you think we are?" Zevran asked, looking amused.
Teagan smiled. "Then we may be making use of your camping gear after all. I'd suggest we dismount and lead our horses, this snow is making the footing dangerous for riding, and that way I can keep a better eye out for the side road."
Zevran nodded. The three men dismounted, and continued on at as best speed as they could, Teagan still in the lead, then Fenris in the middle with his and Zevran's horses, and Zevran bringing up the rear with the pack beasts and a second torch.
It seemed both oddly peaceful and strangely frightening at the same time. Some gusts of wind were so strong that Fenris found himself feeling like he might be knocked off his feet, and so snow-laden that he sometimes lost sight of Teagan and his horse, only the rapidly-filling marks of their passage in the snow preventing him from losing them entirely. And yet for all the force of the wind, it was strangely quiet; the snow dampened sounds, even the sound of the wind in the trees seeming muted and distant, the crunch of the snow under his feet more felt than heard.
There was just the wind, and the snow, the groove in it he was following, regular glimpses of a horse's tail and back, the glow of the torch ahead of him. Sometimes the snow momentarily thinned enough for him to actually see Bann Teagan, hunched against the wind with one hand holding up the wind-blown torch. It began to feel like they had been walking like this for hours, for ages, like they would continue walking forever and never see anything but snow, trees, snow.
He almost walked into the hind end of Teagan's horse; the man had stopped, and was turned looking back, waiting for him and Zevran. They gathered close together again, surrounded by their horses and mules.
"Are we lost?" Zevran asked as soon as he'd joined them.
Teagan shook his head, lips twitching into a crooked smile. "No. I know this road too well to get lost along it. This is the turn-off; I wanted to be sure you didn't miss it, in all this snow. We'll be there soon."
The road he led them onto was clearly a much narrower one than the road they'd been following; little more than a well-cleared track, trees often close enough to either side that outstretched arms would have brushed against their branches. At least it made following it easy, and they were travelling at an angle to the wind now, with the heavy growth to either side creating an area of relative calm. The snow was more than shin deep and undisturbed; it must have been some time since anyone had last passed this way. He remembered Zevran telling him about places that were largely unreachable in winter, unless one knew how to travel on foot through deep snow. There were tools to help with that, the elf had explained, to keep the traveller on top of the snow rather than sinking deep into it. He hadn't really understood the need for such when Zevran had been describing them; snow was light stuff, wasn't it? But now he did; the snow was tiring to walk through, worse than wading through water or walking across soft sand, though like sand it had the same lack of stability underfoot, making his footing seem uncertain. And he at least had an already-trampled area to walk through; how much worse, how much more tiring must it be, for Bann Teagan, who was plowing his way steadily through the unbroken snow.
At least the illusion of eternal travel did not return; in fact it seemed if anything a surprisingly short time before the trees suddenly receded to either side, the narrow road entering a clearing. And just as suddenly changed from unbroken snow to an area that had obviously been shovelled clear at some point, with banks to either side of it, and dark, snow-draped humps the size of small cottages to either side. The size of small cottages because they were cottages, he realized, cottages with sharply sloped roofs that reached right down to the ground, the roofs covered with snow. The road turned; there was a larger house there, and Bann Teagan stopped to knock on the door. There was a muffled call from within, the wind snatching the sound away before Fenris could hear what was said.
"Travellers, in search of shelter," Teagan called back to whomever was inside. "We can pay."
Another muffled call.
"Three of us, with nine horses and mules."
The door opened quite suddenly, firelight spilling out to dye the snow near the door a warm yellow colour. A woman stood there, back-lit by the light, a quilt clutched around her shoulders, leaning out the door to look at them. "Nine horses? Maker... so there is," she exclaimed, then turned her head to look more closely at the man standing at her elbow. "Andraste's tits! You're Bann Teagan!"
Teagan smiled. "Yes, I'm afraid I am."
She snorted, and smiled at him with surprising warmth. "We'll find room for you all," she said stoutly. "Though I'm not sure where we can fit nine horses."
Somewhere that many horses and mules could be fit turned out to be a neighbour's shed, for the two mules, and inside the village's forge, for the horses. It was a well-made building, and their hostess lit a small fire in the forge to take the chill off the air. "There's enough room in my house for the three of you," she told them. "Well, my uncle's house really, but he won't mind the company; he won't even notice," she said, sounding saddened.
"He is unwell?" Teagan asked, as they followed her back to her house, carrying some of their packs with them, the rest having been left piled in a corner of the forge.
"Yes," she answered. "Since the spring. My brother and I came to stay with him, and to run the forge until he got better, but..." She shrugged. "It doesn't look like he's going to get any better."
"Run the forge? Your brother is a blacksmith then?" Teagan asked curiously as they entered the house, setting down their packs and stripping off their cloaks.
She laughed. "No, I am. Bevin helps out, working the bellows and doing some of the heavy lifting, but it's me that mostly does the making," she explained as she stripped off her own heavy woollen shawl and the quilted coat she'd worn underneath. Fenris had thought the coat was bulky with padding; it turned out to be her own broad shoulders and well-muscled arms that had filled it out. Looking at her, he could easily believe that she was a blacksmith; she certainly had the muscles for such heavy work.
"Have you eaten yet?" she asked.
"Not since our midday meal," Teagan responded.
"I've soup made; I keep a pot of it on so that there's something to feed uncle, whenever he's awake enough for such. And bread."
"Thank you, that would be wonderful," Teagan accepted for the three of them.
Zevran, meanwhile, was giving the woman a puzzled look. "I could swear I've seen you somewhere before," he said, earning an amused look from Teagan. Fenris frowned slightly. They had spoken of having a more open relationship, but was this really the time for flirtation... but then Zevran suddenly grinned widely. "Aha! I have it – you said your brother is Bevin, did you not? Then that would make you Kaitlyn, if I remember correctly?"
Teagan looked startled, and then gave the woman a closer look. She grinned, straightening up slightly. "I wondered if either of you would remember. Yes, I'm Kaitlyn."
"Maker," Teagan said, sounding surprised. "So it is. I would never have recognized you."
Kaitlyn smiled. "I've done a lot of growing up, since Redcliffe," she said, then turned away to begin ladling soup into bowls. They were soon all seated around the table, with bowls of a hearty soup – almost a stew, except everything in it was chopped small, and it was rather on the liquid side – and chunks of a coarse but pleasantly nutty-tasting bread.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Kaitlyn; I never heard what became of you and young Bevin after the events at Redcliffe," Teagan said, looking curiously at her before turning his attention to his meal.
Kaitlyn looked up from her own bowl with a smile. "Quite a few things. Soria had bought an old sword from my brother; she paid far more than it was worth, I think, but as desperate as we were I couldn't afford to turn good money down. Neither of us wanted to stay in Redcliffe, after everything that had happened there, and mother dying... and especially after the darkspawn attacked. We were both so scared! So after the Blight War ended, I sold mother's house, and we went to Denerim to seek our fortune."
"And didn't find it?" Zevran asked.
Kaitlyn grinned. "Actually we did. I met a man who owned a foundry in Denerim, it had been badly damaged during the invasion. He'd spent most of what money he still had on food, medicine and shelter for his workers, those who were still alive, but he didn't have enough money to repair the foundry; and yet, with all the rebuilding work going on, if only he could repair it he could make a fortune, forging all the things that would be needed in the reconstruction. Nails, hinges, door handles, all that sort of thing. Hammers, too, and saws, and other tools."
"Ahhh, so you became partners with him," Zevran exclaimed, smiling broadly.
"Yes. With my money we were able to buy what was required to fix the foundry, and because he'd looked after his workers when they desperately needed his help, they were willing to work extra-hard to get the place going again. Many workers from places that were utterly destroyed or whose owners had refused to help their workers came to us as well. We bought or bought into and repaired other shops too, as we earned enough money to, so now we own two foundries, a sawmill, interest in a whitesmith's shop, and most of a joinery workshop."
"And yet you became a blacksmith, yourself?" Teagan asked, sounding fascinated by her tale.
"I already knew a little smithing; we used to come here to visit uncle once or twice every year, and I liked to help out in his forge. I couldn't do much of the heavy work back then, I was too small, but I'd help with what I could – feeding coal to the forge, working the bellows, sorting scrap, fetching tools – and watch and listen while he made things and told me what he was doing and why. The last few times we came to stay, he had let me work on small things – nails and so on, that didn't require a great amount of strength to make. So even though there was a lot of forge work I'd never done myself, I knew how it was done, when done properly. And we were desperately short of capable hands at first, so many were dead, or missing, or leaving Denerim entirely in the aftermath of what had happened."
Teagan smiled. "So you started helping out by making what you could."
Kaitlyn nodded, looking very serious. "Yes, since even things as simple as nails were needed in fantastic quantities. I spent what felt like ages doing nothing but making nails all day long, and then started working on other things as needed, learning from the other workers. I was good at it, and with all the steady work, I gained the strength I'd previously lacked. I'm as good a smith as anyone in either of our foundries, and I was learning how to make moulds and do castings and other similar tasks before I came up here."
"You're not worried about being away from your business for so long?" Fenris asked, curious.
"No. I have a good business partner; we've both come out very well from our deal, and we're friends; I trust him to look out for my interests as well as his own. Uncle needed me here; though since he looks unlikely to recover, I suppose come the spring I'll be looking for a new smith to sell the house and forge on to, unless Bevin decides he'd like to live here; he doesn't much care for Denerim. Too tame for him, he says, and nothing there he really wants to do, though he isn't sure what he does want to be. He dreamed of being an adventurer when he was younger. I thought he might go for a mercenary or a soldier, but he doesn't much care for taking orders," she said, sounding amused. "He's learned a little sword-work, and a little archery, a little smithing, a little wood-working... a little of everything and not enough of any one thing. At least we're well enough off that he can afford to dabble."
"And yet you think he might want to live here? I would think Denerim far more exciting than here," Zevran observed.
She shrugged. "He likes it here; likes the wildness, the beauty of the mountains. Even things like this weather. Most sensible people stay indoors in weather like this. He is out somewhere with a friend of his, learning how to trap and hunt."
Teagan smiled warmly. "I can understand such a feeling. I do enjoy visiting places like Denerim, but I love returning to Rainesfere. Around my keep is a fairly well-settled and tamed area, but beyond that... beyond that is the mountains, and the wilderness, and so much that is unspoiled and beautiful," he said, then his expression altered, saddened. "I shall miss it."
She gave him a curious look, and then frowned. "Ah. Arl Eamon is unwell?"
He nodded. "Yes. And like your uncle, unlikely to live until spring."
"I am sorry for you coming loss, then," she said quietly, and with evident sincerity.
Teagan smiled slightly, and nodded his head to her. "Thank you. As am I, for yours."
After the meal she showed them where they could sleep, an attic storage room that was mostly empty save for a small pile of dusty broken furniture at one end and a stack of boxes and barrels at the other. Several of the boxes yielded up bedding – a little musty from long storage, but smelling of nothing worse than elder herbs or cedar wood – with which she helped them make up pallets on the floor.
"I'm sorry we don't have anywhere better to put you," she said. "But between my uncle and my brother and myself, all the bedrooms are in use."
"This is fine," Zevran assured her. "I am sure all three of us have slept in far worse conditions; and would have again this night, if we'd ended up camping out in the snow."
She smiled. "Well, I'll wish all three a good-night then; I'd best go check on uncle and let him know we have guests, before I seek out my own bed."
Teagan gave her a shallow bow. "Good-night, and our thanks."
Zevran and Fenris also said good-night to her, and then the three men retired for the night, all three of them being tired out from the long walk in the snow.