Haring 9:36

It had taken months of research and letter writing, of collecting materials and taking secret trips to Sundermount. But looking at the sword now, it seemed worth the effort. Master Ilen had called it Dar'Mi Elgar. Merrill translated it to "blade of the sprit" or "spirit blade" or something like that.

In some ways, the new sword was similar to the sword Gordie had made for Meghan years before, the longer hilt that she could hold with both hands with the slightly shorter blade that matched her size and strength. The one Garrett said looked like a miniature version of Carver's sword. But this new sword was different. Where her old sword had a slim, straight blade, this one had a slight curve to it, a slight leaf shape. And where her old sword had been simple and unadorned, this one had black walnut inlayed in the pommel and crossguard and a pattern of loops and lines along the central ridge, lyrium that glittered at the right angle of light. Or, as Master Ilen explained, in the hands of a mage.

The Dalish craftsman had been reluctant at first, unwilling to use ancient elven techniques to forge a blade for a shem. But between Garrett's persuasion, Merrill's charm, and Carver's willingness to part with coin, supplies, and every book and scroll he'd found about Arcane Warriors, Master Ilen finally agreed. And now Carver just needed to find the right time to give it to her and to make sure she understood how much it meant for him to give her something like this before leaving.

He and Nathaniel were heading for the Deep Roads in a week, just before First Day. A repeat of the expedition he and his brother had taken nearly six years before. Almost everything about the first expedition had been a disaster. He'd made a mess of things with Meghan before leaving, and then he nearly died. Meghan hadn't said anything to him, but he knew she was anxious about the trip. He'd figured that out when she suggested she stay in Kirkwall with Garrett while he was gone. She'd made her case by saying that Garrett and his companions would be a better distraction than wandering the halls of Ostwick's outpost. But Carver heard the arguments she wasn't making. That she'd be as close to the Deep Roads entrance as she could get, that Garrett wouldn't hesitate to go down there after him if he took too long, that she'd want to be with Garrett anyway if the worst happened.

Finding the right time turned into talking himself into waiting one more day which turned into waiting for one more. And then he'd run out of days. The afternoon before they started their trip to Kirkwall, he dragged her with him to the armory.

"What are we doing here, Carver? I need to finish that last batch of injury kits for you and Nathaniel." He could hear the exasperation in her voice. He probably shouldn't have interrupted her potion crafting.

"I have something for you. Just…hang on." He reached behind a stack of old, dented shields for the bundle of canvas. He suddenly wished he'd practiced what to say.

"I know we don't…well, we don't really do gifts. Not even for Satinalia. But I wanted to…last time I left you to go to the Deep Roads, I was an ass. I know we're past that now, but I still…well I got you something. I just wanted to…it's just…shit. Here." He held the bundle out to her and waited for her to pull back the canvas.

"Oh. Oh, wow. This is...you got me a sword?" He couldn't quite tell what her expression was.

"I…well, yeah. I did. I know it's not romantic or anything…" He trailed off, hoping she'd say something or at least pick up the sword, so he didn't have to keeping trying to talk.

"It's beautiful. It's…is that lyrium?" Her hands hovered above the blade, like she was testing the air around it. "It's like it's humming."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. Remember that sword Solona told you about? I wrote my brother, and he asked Bodhan. It was called Spellweaver. But Bodhan sold it back in Ferelden." Finally remembering that the explanation of where the sword came from was important, he quickly told her the story.

Her hands hadn't moved from their spot over the blade, and her eyes were fixed on Carver's while he spoke. When he finished, she looked back down at the sword, finally reaching for the hilt. But paused just before she grabbed it.

"Can I?" Her voice was almost a whisper. Carver wasn't sure if she was talking to him or the sword. He couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, of course. It's yours."

And when she lifted it up, the lines of lyrium did glow, just like Master Ilen said. He watched her hold it out, inspect both sides of the blade, test its balance, take a few experimental swings, toss a bolt of lightning at the practice dummies across the way, and then look back up at him.

Before she had a chance to say anything, he grinned at her and jerked his chin in the direction of the training rings and practice dummies. "Go, try it out."

Nearly an hour later, they were sitting on the front steps of the Keep, the sword lying across Meghan's lap.

"Copper for your thoughts." Carver hadn't even realized he'd been silent until she said it.

"I'm glad you like the sword." It wasn't a lie, but that wasn't what he was thinking about. And of course she knew.

"Very much. And?" She stretched the syllable out and nudged him with her shoulder.

With a sigh, he admitted that he'd been thinking about the expedition.

"You're worried." Like always, she knew.

"Only because it feels so much like the first one. Only this time I'm not following my brother around. This time, it's on me." He shrugged then added, "At least I'm not spending the night getting drunk and hiding from you."

Meghan let out a small laugh, leaning into him again. "Yes, the sword is better than showing up at Gamlen's and finding you not there. Compared to that, the sword is almost, I don't know…'romantic.'" And of course she wasn't going to let that comment go.

After a moment, she added, "You know part of me is worried, too. But the rest of me, most of me, thinks you'll be just fine. I mean, this is what you do, right? It's what Grey Wardens do. And you're good at it."

"But that first time, it was my brother—"

Meghan interrupted him with a beleaguered sigh and began a lecture she'd clearly had in her head for some time.

"And since then, you've been back to the Deep Roads dozens of times, torn through hundreds of darkspawn, spent years training recruits. You know, Cooper told me once that all of the younger Wardens wanted to work with you. Not Bear, not Nathaniel. They don't know your brother. They just admire you. As a warrior, as a Warden. And I know how much Nathaniel respects you. How much he trusts you. You don't even realize what you've become. Who you are."

"But last time, I didn't come back." He hadn't wanted to say it out loud, but there it was. What he was actually worrying about. And why giving her that bloody sword meant so much to him.

But Meghan just let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and said, "Well, if you don't come back, I'll come down there with my pretty new sword and kill you myself."