DragonAge: The Halla Tainted
Chapter 15
Duncan strode through the compound, dark eyes scanning over the grounds as Grey Wardens either trained against straw-stuffed dummies, or went about their other daily chores. Children played and raced through the grounds, the youngsters family to many of the Wardens who served in the Jader order. Chuckling, side stepping a pair of elven children he knew to be the youngest twins of a senior Warden, Duncan twisted slightly as he heard his name called out.
Stepping aside, allowing the youngsters to continue in their play, the Grey Warden waited as the young messenger ran up to him, panting heavily as he handed him an oiled packet. "From Ferelden, Commander," the youth panted out as he released his packet into the Warden's hands. Nodding his thanks, Duncan turned from the boy, barely noticing as the lad sprinted across the compound, obviously seeking out others he needed to deliver correspondences to.
Turning his attention to the packet, Duncan frowned at the unremarkable exterior. Glancing about, he moved to an unoccupied bench, just outside the sparring ring where several Wardens of varying age and skill faced off against one another. Flicking his dark cloak aside, the Warden Commander of Ferelden settled down, carefully untwisting the thread that held the packet closed. Tipping the heavy parchment, neatly folded, expensive paper fluttered out, landing in his lap. Carefully he unfolded the parchment, scanning quickly to the end to reveal the letter writer. Black brows rose and he quickly re-organized the letter, his eyes settling upon the salutation.
"Greetings, Duncan,
Or should I refer to you as Warden Commander? I will admit to a chuckle when I had learned that the man, who I still recall as a young shem lad who could barely keep his thoughts in his head a mere thirteen years ago, as the man who now leads the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. However, as I allowed myself more time to consider it, it seems appropriate.
I wish to say first that I forgive you your decision those years ago. I had been angry, and unable – or, as Loghain would say, unwilling – to listen to your reasons. You had made an important and monumental decision about my life. And, I will admit that my own distrust and dislike for most shem played a large part in my volatile reaction."
Here Duncan winced, recalling the heavy blow the elven warrior had laid upon him with, knocking him clean from his footing as the blow landed. Rubbing the side of his head in remembrance, he continued reading.
"That you had somehow managed to convince Ashebellanar to concede and assist you with the process…it is still puzzling to me, even with more than a decade to consider it. Was it an act of mercy? One of her cruel jokes? I cannot say. Ashebellanar is not known for her mercy, even amongst the People.
At that time, I would have rathered you had let me die those years ago, Duncan. You may have explained yourself, and you may well have had good reasons. For years following your decision, I waited, expecting any day that a shem Warden would appear on my doorstep to take me from my family.
And yet, that never occurred. For the longest itme, I wondered 'why'. But, I think I know the answer.
You never informed your Order of my joining, now, did you?"
Chuckling, Duncan responded, "No," to the letter, as though the woman who had written the correspondence stood beside him. He well recalled Adaia's anger when she had awoken, and he had explained what he had done. He did not, however, relate to her Flemeth's words, the swamp witch's suggestion he allow Adaia to die. He could not imagine that anyone's life would have been improved by allowing the elven woman to die.
However, even after making the decision, he never informed anyone of the woman's joining. Upon his return to his own Commander, he had reported the vial he had worn about his neck lost during a skirmish with darkspawn. It had been worth it, in Duncan's mind, even with the knowledge that it had somehow diminished his Commander's opinion of him for loosing such a valuable piece of Grey Warden equipment.
Taking a deep breath, Duncan turned his attention back to Adaia's letter.
"I do not know why…well, perhaps I do. You felt guilty. That would be so like you, Duncan. To feel guilty for something that was beyond your power, your control. That something would happen to someone you had coerced – or rather, had someone else coerce – into helping you with that ridiculous mission. And the mission itself was an utter and complete failure as well. We never did retrieve the runaway Warden mage, now did we?"
In response, the Warden shook his dark head. To this day, he had not learned what had been Rikhard's fate when the possessed mage had encountered Flemeth. Perhaps he should have looked closer at the items hanging from the trees surrounding the witch's hut….A shudder coursed through him as he recalled tales and legends of the witch, and was glad he had been more concerned with Adaia then curious about the witch.
"I was saying I forgave you, yes? You gave me years with my husband, my daughter, and family, friends and community. I had been given time to train young Adela in the ways of the Bow. Although, I must admit – and with great pride, too – that she is quickly becoming an equal in talent to my beloved Cyrion. Becoming a most skilled artist in her own right. That is the path I wish for her, as strange as it may sound coming from me. I do not wish her a life of war and battle. I wish for her to learn her father's craft, to earn a name for herself for her skill with oils or marble. I have no desire for her to ever take a life, be it shem, dwarven or elven, darkspawn or any other creature.
I want for her to live her life in happiness, to find someone to grow old with, perhaps have children with. I have gone soft with motherhood, Duncan. And, again, I have you to both blame for that and thank.
She is everything to me.
And I can only hope that with her father, she will learn and continue to learn peace and happiness, cheer and good fortune.
I doubt I will be there for her much longer."
Throat closing slightly, Duncan blinked his eyes at Adaia's next words, dread forming in his chest.
"The song has started, Duncan. Well, I say started, but I have been ignoring it for months, listening to it for weeks now. And I refuse to go to the Deep Roads, to allow those vermin a victory by taking my life. Beneath the rocks of the dergenlun is no place for one of The People. I shall find my own Dark Roads, within the city I have lived these decades, and fight my own battles that, hopefully, may prove victorious for my people here.
For I have decided that there is only one way for Maric to recall his promises.
Don't worry, Duncan. I have no intention of starting any wars. The time for that has passed, despite how I may feel from time to time. You Grey Wardens (we Grey Wardens?) fight the darkness, yes? Not just the darkspawn, although I do understand that is the main mandate of the Order, and one that, during times of Blights needs to be pushed to the exclusion of all else.
However, the darkspawn are not my most immediate enemy.
No you foolish boy. The shem of Denerim are not, either. Not all of them, at any rate.
No. It is the idea that we elves still must remain behind a wall, to hide ourselves away until the humans have use for us. It is the notion that we are less, somehow, because millennia ago humans managed to defeat a peaceful civilization and enslave a race they could barely understand.
It is the idea that promises can be set aside.
These are the foes I speak of, Duncan. And the only way to defeat them is to place oneself at their fore.
Fear not for me, Duncan. I doubt I would consider doing so if I had years ahead of me with my family and those here I care so much for. As I said, I have softened with the years. I find I value the lives around me. And I do wish to continue sharing those lives for as long as I am able.
But, the song grows more insistent, and, as I also said, I have my own Deep Roads to conquer.
Be well, my friend. And know that I hope you never find yourself upon the doorstep of my family ever again. Let them live their lives. I have never told them – not even Cyrion – that I have been a Grey Warden, if only by blood, these past thirteen years. And, I wish for them to never learn it.
It is the only task I set upon you, Duncan. To continue to keep that secret.
Be well, my dear, young friend. And, yes, I do consider you a friend. My parting words to you may have belied that, but the years have bestowed upon me more wisdom then I held as we left the Wilds and traveled to Denerim those years before. While it was, indeed, an act of selfishness on your part, it was also an act of compassion and mercy.
Take care, be well. Please, find happiness (if you have not already done so).
And, leave my family be. I suppose this is the second thing I must ask of you. It should be easy, yes? You have no reason to seek out my family.
I hope your song does not start for many decades to come.
Adaia Mahariel Tabris"