A/N: This chapter had been originally written and published on Ao3 in mid-october 2017. If you want to see the up-to-date version of this story, come find me on Ao3 under the same nickname (Merilsell) and story name (Of Elves And Humans: Redux). Enjoy?

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Chapter 3: Where The Wild Things Are

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"Help!"

Hearing a strangled cry cutting through the thick air of the Wilds, Alistair broke into a sprint. With his weapon and shield still in hand, he cut around the faraway corner, past the wolf carcasses they had killed only moments earlier. The three recruits followed him at some distance. Or so he hoped.

Arriving long before they did, he found himself standing at the site of a bloody massacre. A massive wagon lay overturned by the side of the swamp, and the equally large oxen that had been pulling it lay dead next to it in a large pool of blood. Huge strips of meat and even some limbs had been torn off the animal, clearly the handiwork of darkspawn, ugh, feasting upon its carcass. The animal hadn't been the only victim of the attack, of course. Several heavily-armored men lay face-down and bloodied on the spongy, unnaturally green ground turned crimson. Alistair heard the heavy steps of Jory and Daveth approaching behind him, yet otherwise the Wilds were deathly quiet. Had he he just imagined hearing -

"Over here!" There it was again. As he darted forward, he saw a wounded man sprawled on the ground, trying to crawl toward him. The man squinted up at him, his words rushed, panicked. "My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn! They came out of the ground. Please, help me! I've got to... return to camp!"

Alistair quickly set aside his weapon and shield to rummage in his small supply bag for the scarce bandages within. Finding them, he peered down at the man and raised an eyebrow. "Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?"

"Who is that?" the wounded soldier cried out, pained. "Grey Wardens?"

"Ugh," the Dalish made what seemed to be her umpteenth noise of disgust, making him jump. He hadn't even noticed that she'd appeared next to him. However useful it had proven to be only moments ago, it was still a little unsettling to him how quietly she was able to move. Looking back up, she let her eyes stray to the distanced part of the swamp, and all of a sudden the scowl seemingly permanently etched across her features vanished. "Oh," she exclaimed, stepping over the wounded, gore-covered soldier as if he were merely part of the scenery, "I think I have found it."

Before he could bristle at her callousness, Daveth spoke up. "Ya finished staring, or do ya wanna wait till the fellow here bleeds out?" The man on the ground moaned, too weak to ask for help again.

Right .

Kneeling down to him, Alistair started to cautiously probe for the man's worst wounds. He quickly found them in his midsection, where a part of his armor was missing. "Jory, help me to press down here," he said, though the man remained frozen on the spot, as if in fear.

"Andraste's bare tits," Daveth swore, rolling his eyes as he pushed past him and took Jory's place to aid Alistair. "Are ya useful for anything, Ser Knight?"

"Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!" Ser Jory's breath came out a tremble. "How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire army in these forests!"

Alistair bit back the annoyed groan bubbling up his throat. He did not have time for this, especially not right now. Even as he focused on fastening and securing the bandage as tight as possible around the soldier's midsection, he looked up at the frightened man for a moment. "Yes, there are darkspawn about, but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde. As a Warden, I can sense them."

"See, Ser Knight," Daveth said, looking up with a smirk on his face."We might die horribly, but at least we will be warned about it."

Just as Alistair had finished treating the wounds and helped the man back up on his feet, the elven woman reappeared next to him. For a moment, the soldier wobbled, unsteady, but then pushed past them, eager to get away. "T-thank you! I... I've got to get out of here!"

The Dalish watched him hobble away toward camp with barely disguised contempt. "He will never make it back alone. It would have been better to put him out of his misery."

"Oh yes, of course. That is not callous at all," Alistair snapped back, glaring at her. "Maker, remind me to never get wounded around you!" He scoffed. "But wow, so nice of you to join us again."

She mirrored his glare with her own, before extinguishing its ferocity with a roll of her eyes. "Whatever, shem. I have what I want, so I am going now."

His gaze flicked down to her hands, recognizing she held the same flower the kennel master had described to them not long ago. "Eager to return to your only friend, I see." At that, her steps hitched and eventually stopped. It was a low blow, not his finest moment by far. Yet something about her, this sheer indifference she showed for everyone around her, let him all too willingly rise to the bait she had laid out so readily. She made it obvious every waking moment that she didn't want to be here, and that made him livid too. The Wardens - Duncan - tried to save her life and still she'd shown them - him - nothing but contempt.

"Eh lass, not that I'd mind leaving this bloody place with ya," Daveth chipped in, "but ya still need to collect yo share of darkspawn blood and find the cache with us before ya do that!" Her answer came swiftly in the form of a raised middle finger over her shoulder.

"Oh, ruuude." The thief laughed. Unlike Jory, who stared at her with a shocked expression in his eyes, he seemed amused by her reaction. "In which part of the forest did they teach ya that?"

Alistair didn't share his enthusiasm - far from it, in fact. With a single stride, he closed the distance she had already put between herself and them and grabbed her by the arm to force her to look at him. Underneath the hard pace of the heartbeat thrumming in his ears, he was aware he was yelling. "What is your sodding problem, woman?"

She locked eyes with him for a moment, motionless. Then, she yanked her arm away. "Don't touch me!" Her shoulders pushed back in a stiff line, before they began trembling. So did her voice, contrasting the sharpness of her tone. "My problem?" She gritted her teeth. "You. Them. This here. All of it. No one asked for you shemlen to intervene. And still did one of yours strode into our camp like a human emerald knight, after -" Her voice faltered, and she swallowed audibly.

"Oh excuse Duncan for saving you."

"I did not ask him to!" The words burst out of her. "Nor did I want him to take me away from my clan."

Scowling, Alistair shook his head. "Maker, woman, don't you want to live? Joining the Wardens is your only way to survive your illness."

"And? What life is that?" She stepped closer still, imposing on his personal space so much that he could feel the heat radiating from her body. As he inhaled harshly to steady himself, the scent of leather and blood wafted into his flared nostrils. The taint inside of her screamed and scratched in his head - volatile, akin to darkspawn. He backed away, needed to. "I would have rather died among my clan, my family, but I didn't even get that. Instead, I'm now stuck, caught and imprisoned here, like the hound in his pen. The only difference is that my pen is a bit larger. So yeah." She smiled bitterly. "Don't expect me to grovel at your feet like the flat-ears do."

"I'm not, at all." Alistair had no idea whom she actually meant with 'flat-ears', but it was the most candid she'd ever been with him. He could use it, hopefully. "Just… returning to camp will achieve nothing. We can't return without these items. If we do, it will only postpone the Joining, and you should know why that would be a bad idea for you."

Her shoulders fell back down as some of her tension dissipated, though her eyes never lost their intensity. "Everyone keeps going on about this Joining. What makes it so fucking special?"

"Look," he said with a sigh, dropping his voice further. "I can't tell you much. Only that it will make you, err, immune against the sickness inside of you. So that is a good thing, right?"

She scoffed. "That remains to be seen."

"Still angry, then." He huffed a curt laugh and felt the corner of his lip turn upward. "Good. If you use that against the darkspawn we meet, I can assure you we will get done here much faster."

The elf was quiet for a moment, seemingly weighing her options. Looking down, he saw how she twirled the thin stem of the dog flower between her gloved fingers. Her foot tapped repeatedly on the ground, its sound swallowed by the spongy soil. "Fine," she said another moment later, stowing the flower safely away in her belt bag. "I can do that."

"Really?" Truth be told, Alistair hadn't expected her to agree with him - with any of it, to be exact. "Huh, glad to hear it, then. So, since we are getting along so well now, will you reveal the secret of your name?"

"You are pushing your luck, shem."

"No, it is more for strategic reasons." Mostly. "It will be difficult to warn you about darkspawn wanting to stab your back or any other side of you, when all I can do is yell 'hey you, watch out'. Because then everyone is starting to turn around and -"

"Creators, will you shut up if I tell you my name?"

Alistair chuckled. "Maybe? Unless it is warning you about darkspawn or -"

"Lenya, ugh."

"Lenya, ugh ? Is that your surname?" Okay, maybe he was overusing this joke and indeed pushing his luck. He raised his hands in apology to keep her from snapping at him. "I jest, I jest. It is a nice name, really."

"I don't care what you think," she said, roughly pushing past him. Ah, so back to good old hostility, it was. He let out a wry snort as he watched her - Lenya - stalking away, this time in the right direction.

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The last darkspawn of the horde fell dead to the ground with a dull thud, speared in the back by one of her blades. Pulling the dagger out, Lenya averted her face as black, acrid arcs of blood from a torn artery sprayed hotly across her arms. The rank, pungent reek of corruption bit and burned in her nose, reminding her all too much of rotting deer carcasses left behind by wild predators in the woods.

Holding her breath, she squatted down to its corpse to fill her own vial with the remainder of its rancid blood. The two idiot recruits had already succeeded in this task some time ago, and the Warden shem kept annoying her to get her own. So it was better to finally get it over with, her deep disgust and repulsion to touch these rotten bastards notwithstanding.

"Ugh," she grunted, after resurfacing, giving the twisted figure on the ground a hard kick with her boots.

"I see you got your vial at last, Lenya." Wiping his sword on some leaves and sheathing it again, the Warden approached her. "About time, too. Would have been awkward if we had killed all the darkspawn in our way, and you still hadn't gotten your vial."

She felt him looming at her back, but didn't turn around to face him. "If you don't want me to add a vial of your blood to the mix, you better shut up, shem!"

"Aww." He chuckled. "Why did I know you would say that? I think it is because we were getting to know each other really well these past few hours." It wasn't his first delve into sarcasm and, sadly, it would not be his last. "I also know that this isn't your first time meeting darkspawn," he added, his tone suddenly far more serious.

"Oh really?" Lenya rolled her eyes and found herself observing the horizon. Behind a thick white vapor, the low-hanging sun looked like a faded orb, robbed of most of its color and brilliance. It would be evening soon. "How you excel at stating the obvious, shem. Since you have been here too these past few hours."

"No, I meant before the Wilds."

She whirled around to stare at him. "What? How do you know?"

"Just common sense, really." He shrugged. The motion lifted the heavy shoulder plates of his armor with a creak. "I see, um, the way you fight them. You go straight for their weak points. Such things aren't common knowledge, unless you have already encountered them or studied them."

Now Lenya was the one shrugging, if only to cover up her surprise about how... observant this shemlen was. "As hideous as these bastards are, they bleed the same as a person or animal would. So killing them isn't exactly complicated."

"Oh, I will remind you of that when we are encountering an ogre. After I have finished soiling my pants, of course." A small smile tugged at his lips. "In any case, it shows why Duncan recruited you."

"Recruited?" Lenya started walking toward the faraway building up the hill, which was half-shrouded in mist. She didn't even bother waiting for him, least of all for the other two idiots who trailed after them like obedient, brain-dead creatures. Threading up the hill toward the crumbling remains of a ruin, she scoffed. "Such a nice word for ripping me away from my life and family."

"Yes, and if it saves your life, wasn't it worth it, then?" he argued from some distance behind her, and she heard how his steps accelerated when he seemed to realize where she headed. "T-this is the tower we're searching for!" She felt like there was relief in his voice, too, if for wholly other reasons. She was sick and tired of this place and its company. There had been nothing but darkspawn, stinking bogs, opaque waddles of mist obscuring her sight, and humid, foul air to breathe for endless hours now. At this point, she would gladly return to the camp she had called her prison before.

"The chest... The treaties..." Suppressing a groan at the human's alert voice, she rushed upwards to see what he had found - only to let it out when she arrived and saw the scene for herself. Underneath the remnants of spiraling stone stairs stood a heavy metallic chest, like the Warden leader shemlen said it would. Though instead of finding it sealed as thought, the lid of it had been burst into many sharp bits, and its contents... missing. Lenya reached up to rub her forehead in annoyance, which only served to smear the blood stuck there further across her face. Ugh.

"Oh, perfect. This whole bloody trek has been for nothing then, eh?" one of the two idiots said behind her. While she had never bothered to learn their names, nor cared much for their existence in general, she found herself agreeing with the rogue's sentiment.

The whiny knight looked like he was about to cry. Again. "What are we going to do no-"

"Well, well, what have we here?" Lenya jerked around at the sudden, haughty voice. It belonged to a woman who had appeared suddenly on the ruin above them. One look was enough to ascertain that this was no ordinary human. Long jet-black hair was tied back to frame an oval face, and pale yellow eyes regarded them with mocking amusement from above.

Wrapped around and across her chest and midsection was a long, flowing crimson scarf, secured in place by a dark brown belt. It contrasted with the black of the mixture of leather and cloth she wore underneath. The outer layers formed a robe that hung askew yet snugly over her lean hips, while thick leather leggings and near thigh high, black boots completed the other part of her outfit. Her ornamented golden shoulder pad was adorned with beads and feathers as dark as the leathery sleeve protecting her whole left shoulder down to her wrist. It stood in stark disparity against the paleness of the near-naked skin of her right arm.

Taking a few steps forward, Lenya watched how the witch slowly descended the ramp with confidence and a sauntering grace. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?"

While she wore a skinning knife within the belt around her hips, it was the rough wooden staff strapped to her back that caused the fools behind her to gasp and step back in fear. Lenya, however, felt no such urge - quite the contrary. For the first time ever, she found herself wanting to know more about another person outside of her clan.

Coming to a stop at the end of the stone ramp, the woman's eyes snapped to her, her tone demanding. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger, or intruder?"

"Neither," Lenya replied, holding her sharp gaze with ease. "But I'm weary of running around in ' your ' Wilds, only to find the very thing we came for is missing."

"Missing? Hmm, 'tis most curious. I have watched your progress for some time, you know." She started to circle around the group in a measured stride, like a predator on a prowl. "'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?' - And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

Alistair leaned in toward Lenya, his voice a not-so-discreet whispered warning. "Do not speak to her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

"What?" the witch flashed him a sardonic smile that indicated well enough how little she cared for his opinion. That she already had in common with her, at least. The woman threw her half-gloved hands up in a sudden, mocking manner. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yeeees, swoooooping is baaaad." Ugh . The way the Warden shem dragged and drawled his words really grated on Lenya's already thin nerves and patience.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" One of the fools behind her thought it was a good moment to add his own needless, inane comment to the matter. His eyes fixed on the mage were as wide in fear as a docile deer in front of a hunter's bow. Nor did his hands ever inch away from the hilts of his daggers.

"Good," Lenya quipped, pointing at the men over her shoulder. "If you do so, please start with the three idiots behind me."

Amused by the unexpected answer, she turned back to the Dalish. "You seem to be quite unimpressed by all this, elf. Nor are you afraid. 'Tis curious why a seemingly smart woman travels with such... simple companions."

"I wonder about that myself actually," Lenya said with shrug of her shoulder. "It was not by choice, that is for sure."

"Hey!" the Warden shem protested, like an over-sized da'len getting scolded. Lenya couldn't care less.

Closing the distance between herself and the witch, she crossed her arms. "Amusing as it is to see them squirming in fear of you like little boys, will you finally tell me what happened to the contents of that Grey Warden chest?"

"Perhaps." She observed her with open interest as she leaned on the broad trunk of a dead tree. If you give me your name, Dalish. Let us be civilized."

"En'an'sal'en, my name is Lenya Mahariel of the Sabrae clan," she spoke without thinking and winced as soon as her clan's name went over her lips. Like salt upon an open wound, the mere mention of... them burned inside. "Or...I was ," she added, much quieter, averting her gaze.

"My, such manners." Her fine, dark eyebrow arched up in amusement, but her smile seemed genuine. "What a rare thing to find here in these Wilds. And you may call me Morrigan." Crossing her arms, she let out a long breath. "What you search is here no longer, obviously."

"'Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky... witch-thief!"

Look who was talking. The thieving shem accusing others of thieving. Oh, the irony. Lenya's hands flexed into fists. She struggled with the wish to turn around and punch him in the throat just to render him blessedly silent for a creators-damn moment. Instead of giving in to this urge, she rolled her eyes and groaned; in unison with Morrigan, as it turned out.

"...but 'twas not I who took it," she finished, pointedly ignoring his inane comment.

"Who did, then?"

"T'was my mother, in fact." Pushing herself off the trunk she leaned against, she stalked over to the Dalish. "You do not assume I spawned from a log, do you?"

"A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps." Unasked, the Warden shem doubled down on comments after being ignored, though he was yet again met with all-too justified indifference.

"So...will you take me to her, then?" Lenya asked and rolled her eyes once more. "Since it seems that we are forbidden from returning without these damn documents. Whatever they are."

"Now that is a sensible request. I like you." Morrigan gave her a look of approval." I can take you to her, yes. 'Tis not far from here, in fact."

"They are old Grey Warden treaties, and you better give them back!" the Warden shem blustered once more, this time earning himself an annoyed stare from the witch.

"Invoke a name that means nothing to me here, I care not," she sneered at him. "Least of all I care whether you morons follow me back to my mother's hut or cower in fear here." She turned back to Lenya, her tone much friendlier. "Come then. Follow me, if it pleases you."

As intrigued as she was by this human, Lenya did not need to be told twice.

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Morrigan expertly led them through a narrow path with gnarled, old trees towering overhead on both sides, and around bogs they would have surely stumbled in without her guidance. After taking one last turn, the path opened up in a clearing and from behind the low-hanging shroud of mist a withered hut came partly into view. The white haze on the ground seemed to dance and twist around them as they approached the small, slanted building.

Pikes of wood stuck out ominously of its green and halfway muddy grass top roof. Wisps of silver grey smoke curled and danced their way through the thick, hazy air from three fine slits within the roof. Broad lines of moss climbed up the hut's windowless stonewall front like a sickly green tapestry, clinging to the crevices and cracks within.

In front of its massive door, its wood painted dark with age and decay, stood an old woman who seemed to be expecting them. Her robe was formed mostly of thick brown furs, and the dark leather underneath looked similar to what Morrigan wore.

"Mother, here I bring you the four Wardens..."

"I'm not blind, dear. I can see them-" Morrigan's mother laughed with easy amusement, her shortish white hair shaking with the motion. Her eyes, yellow in color as well, stood out from behind a stripe of jet-black, painted horizontally across her face and eyes. Due to that, Lenya found it hard to look at her- but maybe this was exactly its intended purpose. As the old witch stepped closer to the group to observe them, she felt the three shemlen behind her shrink back from her approach.

"Hmm, as expected," she mused, her voice as dark as the paint around her eyes. Her wrinkly, old and seemingly frail appearance was deceiving, for Lenya could practically feel the magic thrumming in the air and prickling upon her skin - even through the thick leather of her armor. Without a doubt, the old witch was the source of it all.

"Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

Eyes flitting over to the tall Warden, she let out a sharp guffaw. "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide... either way, one's a fool!"

"Asha'belannar. The woman of many years," Lenya blurted out, so suddenly that all heads turned toward her and stared. Finally, she remembered it again. The stories her clan told in the evenings over the campfire - whispered words of fears and admiration for a powerful witch that had lived amidst the hostile landscape of the Korcari Wilds for many decades, maybe even centuries. "That is what my people call you. You are a friend of the Dalish. Or so they say," she quickly added, fidgeting with the buckle of her armor to quell her nerves.

Her sallow, sunken cheeks rose in a toothy smile. "Ah, you are of the People, of course. So young and bright, and yet so much of you is unknown." Another cackle. "But at least I'm not called old by your kind."

"She is a witch. We shouldn't talk to her; she will turn us into toads."

Her eyes flashed wickedly at one of the two human idiots. "Hmm, actually I'd prefer to cook your flesh and then tear it from your bones." She laughed as they both shuddered, taking delight in their fear. "Such anxious little boys they are, hmm? If you had listened to the young lady, you'd know you don't have to be. I'm just a woman of many years, after all."

"Sooo, this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?" the Warden shem drawled, a snort following his words. Unlike the other two humans, he appeared unafraid, somewhat amused even. Odd, considering his open hostility and distrust toward Morrigan before.

Looking at him, Asha'belannar cocked her head with a wicked grin. "Witch of the Wilds, 'eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon." Ending her words with a cackle, she seemingly laughed at her own joke.

Behind her, Morrigan covered her face with her hand and sighed, long and loud. "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother." This was indeed correct, but it was still amusing to see how even age-old witches never failed to embarrass their children. Lenya's mouth twitched as she observed how Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose and let out some quiet, yet colorful curses her extended elvhen hearing was able to catch.

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" came the noncommittal answer with a shrug. She waved her hand, which made the two idiots gasp and step back, and suddenly held a yellowed, rolled up stack of papers. Stepping toward the Warden in their group, she handed it to him. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

"You... protected them?" The shem looked down, blinking at the documents in his hands.

"And why not?" The many wrinkles in her face deepened further as she frowned, though it was short-lived. "Just remember to tell your Grey Wardens that this blight is bigger than they expect. Or maybe they do expect it. Who am I to know? I'm just a woman of many years with a penchant for moldy parchments. Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!" She chuckled lightly before looking at her daughter. "Since those are your guests, Morrigan, lead them out of the Wilds, would you?"

Morrigan let out a displeased groan, but eventually complied with her mother's wish and turned to go. "Very well then. Follow me. Again."

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Thanks to Morrigan's guidance, however reluctant, the way out of the Wilds had been much quicker. Her ability to lead the group around any darkspawn horde helped save much precious time as well. As soon she had been certain they could manage on their own, the witch had quietly slipped away, leaving them standing at Ostagar's gate. Back to where they started so many hours ago.

Lenya regretted seeing her go, though even she found herself glad to be back in camp. While she preferred and felt more comfortable in the wilderness than in a massive stone fortress like Ostagar, the Korcari Wilds were a strange, hostile place barren of any nature she was used to.

"Home sweet home, 'eh, lass?"

Not answering, Lenya shuddered and rubbed her leather-clad arms. The idiot addressing her was not to blame for the sudden goosebumps, however, but a gust of harsh wind, creeping underneath her armor with its briskness. The fading of the sunlight had also meant the fading of the heat. Torches flickered within their wall sconces, their warm yellowish gleam the only source of light in the otherwise pitch black night. She glanced up, seeing the moon standing high and nearly full within a matte black canvas. The stars were hidden behind a solid tuft of clouds. Trekking through the Wilds had taken all day and some of the evening too, leaving her longing for a meal and a bit of rest.

"Well, good to be back, that is for sure," the Warden shem said, rolling his shoulders. "I have to report back to Duncan first, so feel free to clean up and grab a bite to eat." He pointedly looked at her. "Don't stray too far however, since you don't want to miss your own Joining, right?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, that would be such a shame."

"The J-joining?" Ser Whiny Knight did what he had excelled at in the hours before: complaining. Lenya would never understand why humans called such a simpering weakling a knight, least of all why the Warden leader recruited him. "Even more tests? Have I not earned my place?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," she groused and stormed away.

"Well Jory, you heard the lady," she heard the other idiot say before she had put enough distance between them and herself.

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Change Notes:

Except for a few sentences here and there, I scrapped the entire old chapter(s). and only kept the Morrigan and Flemeth scene as they (mostly) happen in canon. Lenya surprised me this chapter about how candid she already was toward Alistair here, even if it was just through an outburst. I had planned to let her be much more stoic/broody, but as always the girl has a mind of her own :)

Reviews are most welcome.