The Warden took her harsh lesson well, and in the two weeks which followed, she broke open the scabs at her back nearly every day, but not once did she draw upon the blood her wounds offered. Twice more she dropped the middle log, nearly breaking her foot the second time, but Athadra kept at her training. It took her most of the first morning to lift the Sten's log; he looked on from the tree and watched her struggle, finally granting her a smile when she stood stooped under the great weight.

The bloodied cloth still hung on the tree as a monument to the Warden's madness, and she hadn't bothered replacing it. The horror of her wounds was enough to keep most eyes averted whenever she took to the kitchens or her room, though she found that she no longer cared whether strangers' eyes wandered or if their lips whispered after she'd passed.

The second day after she'd taken up her final weight, a letter from Levi arrived. It was written quite obscurely and gave no hint about the Keep, to the Warden's surprise. The parchment did mention Mikhael, however, and his interest in working the star-rock they'd recovered just before taking Soldier's Peak. Athadra dispatched Leliana and Zevran that very evening to fetch the man and the rock back to Redcliffe, and then she thought no more of it for the rest of the week.

Every day was hard-won, but the coming of each evening saw more circuits around the oak tree. She managed twenty-three on the final day, and though her body had not stopped aching in half a month, Athadra felt a rush of pride when the Sten called her to a halt. The earth shook beneath her feet when she cast off her burden for the final time.

"Acceptable," the Qunari pronounced evenly. Then his lips twitched into a bit of a smile. "Come as you are on the morrow. We will resume sparring in armour in two weeks' time."

When morning came, the Sten had replaced Athadra's log with a pair of wooden swords, matched to a pair of his own. They were much heavier than they looked; each was filled with lead and nearly the weight of her two-handed greatblade, hanging up in her bedchamber. The Sten moved as gracefully as ever, and soon the bailey filled with the music of their practice swords clashing against one another. Each evening saw her body just as beaten as it had been beneath the beams, but Athadra learned to move her larger muscles even more quickly than she had done before.

Nearly a week after commencing her swordcraft, Athadra was surprised one evening, just as the Sten called a halt to their work. A fresh bruise bloomed across her flank from where the Sten had caught her off her guard earlier in the day, and she was fairly certain he'd cracked her ribs, but she swallowed the twinging agony. The surprise came in the form of Leliana and Zevran. The pair led a dark-haired man and Levi's ass-driven cart through the portcullis, and they came to a halt in the centre of the bailey.

"Still working wonders with your figure, I see," Zevran quipped...though his eyes did not linger overlong. Possibly because Athadra still wielded one of her swords, wooden as it was.

The Warden turned her attention to their new companion. "Mikhael Dryden?" She tilted her head, trying to find a resemblance to the slighter, flaxen-haired Levi.

The man stepped forward; if he was shocked that the object of his brother's praise was nearly naked and covered in bruises and scrapes, he did not show it. "I am he," he offered. "My brother took up the family business, and has grown fat with the largesse of trade. I chose the hard life of metal and stone."

"So I hear," Athadra replied, and turned to replace her swords amongst the roots of the oak tree. That managed to draw a small gasp from Mikhael, though he'd composed himself by the time she faced him once more. "Did you bring the rock?"

"Indeed," Mikhael said. "It is star-metal, I'll swear by it. If you'll give me the honour, I can make for you a thing of wonder...as long as you have access to a forge." He looked about the darkening space, as though expecting a furnace and anvil to spring forth from the castle's walls.

"There's a smith in the village, called Owen. It's a bit of a trek down the hill, but I'll ask Shale to carry the ore down, to save your ass the trouble."

"My thanks, Commander." Mikhael scratched his beard, looking from the Warden to the lump in his cart. Athadra was pleased that her companions had spread her new title to the Drydens. The smith spoke up again. "I believe there is enough metal in the ore to make a decent longsword and a dagger, or a single greatblade."

Athadra sidled over to the cart. The rock rested beneath oilcloth, but she felt the odd, lyrium-like tingle coming off of it just the same. "Use it all in a single sword," she told him.

"Commander," he answered with a nod, and he waited as she took the steps back up to the castle.

The Warden limped back up to her room, telling Shale to anticipate her return. The chamber stood empty, as it had more frequently of an evening since Athadra had taken up the practice swords; Athadra did not begrudge Morrigan her own pursuits, as long as the Wilds-witch found her way back into their bed. The Warden searched through her nightstand until she found the old clothes Duncan had procured from Aethelbert, a whole five months before.

The scabs at Athadra's back were solid enough to take the tunic's weight, and her thicker leg muscles filled out the trousers more fully, though she didn't bother with her boots, and so her legs remained naked from halfway down her shins. She strapped on her belt with Duncan's daggers holstered, and went back to find the mouthy golem.

"Your flesh has proven pervious to the cold at last?" Shale rumbled a chuckle when Athadra approached in her garb.

"Hardly," Athadra shot back with a wink. "I'll be stark again amorn, you wait." She gestured for the golem to follow, and made her way out of the great double-doors of the castle's entrance hall. The Sten had quit the bailey in her absence, but she looked forward to seeing him in the morning. Leliana and the Antivan had got themselves lost, as well. "Got a job for us, if you're amenable."

Shale groaned when she saw the familiar cart and donkey. "You need me to haul the stone again," she said in an accusatory grumble. "I know it."

"I also want you to scare the birds," Athadra offered. "They've not had a proper fright 'round these parts since half the village rose from the dead to eat the other half."

The golem laughed. "We mustn't let them grow complacent!" She clapped her hands, which dislodged a few ravens from the walls. "Very well. Lead on."

Mikhael looked the golem up and down, curiosity firing in his eyes for the first time that Athadra had seen. "You are small for a stone-man," he said. "And you can talk."

"Did it say something?" Shale asked Athadra.

"Thinks you're tiny and lippy," the Warden answered. "Should I tell it that you're a stone woman?"

"Best not," Shale advised. "We might break its soggy little head."

Their banter did not seem to dampen the smith's curiosity. "I did not mean to offend. I have seen but one of your kind, and it had no will of its own."

Shale's eye-gems glimmered in the low light of the evening. "And was this arrangement agreeable to you?"

"I confess, I thought nothing of it...but now that I know you can have will, I find it disturbing." That answer seemed the correct one, and Mikhael's head remained uncrushed.

"Let us see the stone," Shale said, "and be off." When the smith drew back the oilcloth covering the rock, Athadra saw the glowing veins in it. Shale hefted it with just a little difficulty and brought it up to her shoulder. "I do not see how you will be able to melt it down without driving yourself to madness," she commented as the three crossed beneath the portcullis, with Garahel not far behind.

"I have learned with the best smiths Ferelden has to offer, human and dwarven," Mikhael boasted. "I may lack the stout folk's resistance to lyrium, but I can make do." He shrugged his shoulder, jostling the sackful of supplies he'd taken from the cart.

Athadra took note of her tavern as they passed it; she'd have to pay Bella a visit, sooner or later. Not long after, she indicated the smith's house. Despite the near-darkness, she could see smoke still rising from the smithy.

"Just wait a bleedin' minute," came the muffled reply to her knock. Almost a full minute later the door swung inward. "What in Andraste's holy name do you...oh," the man stopped short. Owen's eyes widened when he recognized Athadra, and he threw himself into a low bow. "Champion! My Valena still talks about how you saved her from the monsters!"

The Warden shrugged, a bit embarrassed at the man's deference. "It were my job," she said simply, though in truth she'd sent the girl back the way her party had come, to pick over the re-dead corpses on her own. "Can I parlay that offer you made me into forging a sword, instead of an armour set?"

"Of course, Champion," Owen answered at once. "I was just workin' on a sword for Ser Lann, but I can make it for you, instead. I'm sure he'll understand."

Athadra shook her head. "I've got me the ore here, and a man who's going to help work it. It could be dangerous to handle."

Owen looked at her companions a bit defensively. "And what's so special about this ore, then?"

Mikhael stepped forward into the light cast by Owen's forge. "It's star-metal," he said heavily.

The older smith's mouth fell open. "You sure?"

"I am Mikhael Dryden, master Owen," Mikhael informed him. "I've trained with Gerrick the One-Eyed. It would be an honour to work at your anvil to craft a blade for the Commander of the Grey."

The name, meaningless to Shale and Athadra, seemed to sweep away Owen's qualms. Instead he moved out of the doorway and gestured for them to come in after him. Shale fit through, but only just. "I'll put Lenn's order aside," Owen assured them. "We should start working tonight, if we want to get the metal out of the rock."

Mikhael donned a thick pair of dragonhide gloves which covered him up to the elbows, just as Owen moved a special cauldron into position on the forge. The bowl could take as much heat as the furnace could give off, and it had a thick grate on top. Mikhael helped Shale wrestle the ore into position over the grate, and Owen set to work on the bellows. The man whistled at the blue-green streaks in the rock.

"We'll have to go slowly," Mikhael told Athadra. "The metal in the ore could melt easily, or it could be stubborn. Too hot too soon, and it will seal itself inside the rock."

"We want to avoid that, I take it," Athadra commented.

Just as Mikhael nodded, the Warden heard a gasp from the other side of the smithy. Valena stood in a doorway which connected the forge-room to the rest of Owen's house. "Champion! I knew you'd come to see me!"

Athadra suppressed a sigh, but Owen came to her rescue. "Now, now, Valena," he said as he worked the heat up. "The Champion's been doin' important work with good Arl Eamon. She's come 'ere for a sword to keep that work up."

Valena's face fell as she took in the crowd. "Oh," she mumbled. "Of course."

Athadra saw tears threaten, and she silently cursed to herself. "I did think about you," she lied. "And I'm glad I helped you get out of the castle." She stepped closer, away from the noise of the others. "Have you been back inside, since?"

Valena ushered her into their small sitting-room. "No," she said a bit hollowly. "I can't stop seeing...them..."

"They're gone," Athadra said. "Dead and burnt, proper. Now the inside's as good as it ever were."

Valena bit her lip and shuddered. "How are you so brave? I'd bet you don't even have nightmares."

The Warden's brow cocked. "I do," she assured the girl, who was likely as old as she was, in truth. "I wake up screaming, sometimes." She didn't trust herself to tell the other woman any more.

That gave Valena pause, but then she shook her head. "Then you're even braver than I thought," she insisted.

Athadra nodded. "Maybe," she said. "I've seen and done things I never thought I could. But you made it back on your own, Valena."

"But I was so scared..."

Athadra barked a laugh. "So were I. Every step. I just had a sword in my hands, is all that made me different to you." She looked directly into the girl's eyes. "You should go back to the castle, if you ever want to sleep sweet again."

The thought clearly distressed the smith's daughter. "But...but my lady is...gone. I've got no reason to go, now."

"The arl needs more knights," Athadra pointed out. "You could take to squire. Eamon owes your father that much."

"But I'm a woman!" Valena's eyes had grown wider than Athadra thought safe.

The Warden's head tilted. "Aye," she said. "So am I. So were a fair few of King Cailan's troops at Ostagar."

"But..." The girl's lip trembled, and Athadra reached up to place a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Look," the elf said. "It's just something to consider. But you can serve your arling, your country, and yourself if you decide to take up arms. Talk it over with your father."

Valena took a deep breath and nodded. "I will," she promised. "Talk to him, at least." She bit her lip and managed a small smile. "Thank you, Champion."

Athadra nodded, and returned to the smithy, sighing at the pleasant heat on her bare toes. "How's she look?"

Mikhael truly smiled for the first time that the Warden had seen. "Splendidly," he said. "We should be able to get enough metal out tonight. And then...three days, I'd say. What do you think?" He directed the question at the older smith, who combed his beard and nodded.

"Three or four, to temper it proper."

Athadra grinned. "I'll see you both in a couple of days, then. I learned a few things from a smith of my own that might come in useful while you're hammering. For now, I've got someone I need to see." She nodded and turned out into the cool night, with Shale and Garahel to either side. Not even the sight of the Chantry, bereft of templars as it was, could dampen her spirits as she climbed the hill to her hard-won tavern.

Personal note: I'd like to thank every single one of my readers, but my gratitude extends especially to all of those who've followed or favourited this story, and above all I'm humbled and grateful to everyone who's dropped a review. Thank you!