Sorry for the shortness of the shapter, guys...

The group was up early the next morning to start doing what the Inquisition was meant for. They were starting to help people. If Mehenion had to be honest, he liked the distraction. The fact that they would have to go see Dennett and get horses for the Inquisition filled his gut with a knot. He knew that he would have to show his horsemanship to Dennett's daughter, at least he thought she was.

There was just one problem though, and somehow he had not yet come to telling them about it. He had no idea how to ride a horse. He had sat on a horse, that was all. He had sat on a horse and someone else took the reigns and led the horse around a small parcours during carnival, when he was short. And one day a horse had kicked him down on the pavement and ever since then he was never too fond of them.

He mulled his confession over and over while he was busy precooking rams in flames because a hunter had asked for them. They would also have to go search for blankets and warm clothing and get someone's son to make a concoction for a sick wife. Somewhere halfway they had to sit down though.

He didn't know if it was the blazing sun or something else, but he was getting a nasty headache. He had been knitting his eyebrows into a frown for about an hour now until Cassandra sighed and asked what had him in a foul mood. "I'm not in foul mood, I just have bad headache." He confessed. "It keeps pushing and buzzing." Solas offered to aid him or at least give him a comforting sedative to take the edge off, but even after an hour it still didn't help.

"Let's just get on with business and get this over with. Tell me when they sell nice sunhats." He growled. His light complexion was hitting him in the gut. Why oh why did he have to chose a pale guy with white hair and light eyes as his character? Sure it looked cool, but he was slightly turning into a tomato right now. And they didn't sell sunglasses and sunblock here. He just hoped that was the reason of the throbbing headache.

"Another thing though." He said. "You might already guessed it,...HAVE guessed it" He corrected himself; " but..I cannot horseride." There. It's out. Varric looked up. "They don't have horses where you come from?" Mehenion nodded. "Yes we have. I just never rode them." He explained. "How do you get around?" Cassandra wanted to know. "We have...other means of transportation." He rolled his wrist to find the words. "Like...steel carriages and steel birds.. Might draw them later."

"So you never ridden a horse?" Cassandra asked. "Or a hart?" Solas asked. "A pony perhaps?" Varric wanted to know. "I have ridden a horse when I was young, was also kicked by one, never felt like again. Where I come from, it's an expensive passtime. Most horses I sat on were ponies as I was a child and scared of high places. We don't tame harts for riding where I live." He answered them all.

They were attacked by bandits, templars and wolves on their way to Dennett and once there, just asking and taking the horses didn't fly with the horsemaster. He was right though, but Mehenion's headache and the hold up they faced by getting here was making him so agitated that he wanted to snap the poor man's head off.

"Excuse me for a bit." He said to the old man, before he began to confer with the group. "I think you should do this." Mehenion said. "Or we should come back later when my headache doesn't mess with my mood and doesn't make me want to lash out." He growled. "If we are Inquisition, they deserve our best, and I am not our best, right now."

But Cassandra didn't want to hear any of it. "You are the Herald of Andraste, Mehenion." The boy rolled his eyes. They argued some more before Mehenion turned back towards the man to agree to his terms. They were more than reasonable. If he were in his place, he wouldn't be too happy either to give his prized horses to some cranky kid and his goons, even if they DID call themselves the Inquisition.

As expected he kept the best for last. By late afternoon they had fought wolves and a nasty demon. The large stones that closed around them provided for some nice shade and cool. The Hinterlands might be barren cold in winter and in the evenings, but when the sun shone, it was bright and warm. And a pale boy like him didn't need much sun to turn bright red.

"Good...Here goes nothing." He sighed as he climbed upon the horse. "High…I think a pony would be better for me as well.." He said while he tried not to look down. "Whoa…" The high thing moved as he shifted in his saddle. He asked for the instructions again. "So like this?" Before the lady could answer though, the horse shot off with a squealing Mehenion on top. The creature felt the inexperience of it's rider and, agitated, threw him off and strutted back to its caretaker.

Mehenion lay motionless on the path. His three companions rushed over to him. Solas checked for injuries. He had an injury on his forehead and his arms were shafed. His ribs too would hurt when he would wake up.

Master Dennett had heard the panic and helped Cassandra, Solas and Varric to carry Mehenion inside and on the table. His wife too rushed in and quickly cleaned her hands to help. "What happened?" She wanted to know. Cassandra told her he fell off the Ferelden Forder. It was a fine creature, relatively tame and easy to ride, but perhaps not fitted for the most inexperienced.

It was only the next morning that Mehenion woke up, sore and bruised. "Where am I?" He asked. "Your friend is awake." Dennetts wife told Cassandra. She still leaned over Mehenion. "What happened, how long have I been here?" He worked himself in a sitting position. "I hope the horse isn't hurt. The last horse…" His speaking became unintelligible again as he drifted off.

"I'm sorry to hold you up, Cassandra." Mehenion said as soon as he woke again a few hours later and stared into her eyes. "We will make up for lost time." She replied. He wasn't sure if she joked or not, but for as far as he knew her, she seemed like the kind of person to mean such a thing. "How is your headache?" She asked. "Better, fortunately…" He groaned while he stretched himself and pulled off the blankets. "Be careful." Mehenion smiled. "Don't worry. I'm good. I think they would like their bed back."

Solas checked him for injuries. "Remarkable." He whispered. "What is remarkable?" Cassandra wanted to know. "There is no injury left. The injuries he sustained would usually last longer, even with healing. "Perhaps you exceeded your own expectations, Chuckles." Varric consoled him. "Perhaps." But Solas wasn't ready to let this slide yet. "What do you remember?" He gazed in Mehenions eyes. "I don't know what you mean. I remember everything since I got here and before I got here. Just nothing in between.

He looked at master Dennett again. "I thank you for your and your wifes hospitality." He heard Varric whisper behind his back. "Is it me or did his language improve? But how?" Mehenion tried to ignore it for now, however. "We will make sure the Hinterlands and Redcliffe are safe to travel again." He turned around and walked out. "Let's deal with these rogue templars and mages." He cracked his knuckles.

So finally I could squeeze out another chapter. It took me a while I know, but I didn't really feel inspired. Hope you guys still like it. I hope to show more of what happened in a next chapter.