Fear and Loathing in Southern Ferelden
Duncan watched the two strange women he had managed to collect as they sank to the ground in exhaustion. He had not pushed them particularly hard, but they seemed unaccustomed to an extended march. Regardless, the complaining had been minimal, which pleased him. Instead he had listened while they conversed quietly, analyzing their surroundings with terms he was not familiar with. Words like "Old-growth", "Northern European", "Medieval" and "pre-industrial" were thrown out and acknowledged. Oddly learned-sounding terms, for such young women.
The dark-haired one, Edana she had called herself, had abandoned the poorly-made sword she had originally appropriated for a somewhat better-quality axe, keeping the shield and managing to scrounge a shirt of light chain. The blonde, Shai, had found a leather jerkin, and had ransacked the battlefield for as many arrows as she could carry.
They at least seemed sensible, he acknowledged.
"Daveth, Jory, see to setting up camp. I'll tend to our... guests." They nodded and fell into an already well-established pattern, building the fire and setting up sleeping arrangements.
"Shai first," the brunette mumbled. "I'm not hurt, just sore. And tired. Really really tired."
"You are certain?" he asked, verifying. "No cuts, no torn muscles, and no blows to the head?"
"Yeah. 'M fine." A weary shrug. "Too tired to worry about it. Shai first."
Duncan nodded, taking her word for it, and turned to her companion.
"You need to get a wet cloth for your eyes and get horizontal before you upchuck again," Shai snapped irritably. She touched the bandage on her arm, right over where she'd bled through. "And I need a fire and a word with Coyote as soon as we can."
"If I was gonna puke again, I'd have done it by now," Edana grumbled, sliding down in a slouch. "I'm fine. I had water, the woods are dark enough... it wasn't my head. That time." Duncan watched her frown and bite her lip as he unwrapped Shai's arm.
"...sir?" she said hesitantly, her voice small. "There's still a lot of information we don't have. And..." She traded glances with her friend, who was wincing and gritting her teeth as he prodded the cut. It wasn't a severe injury, but he could sense a faint darkness to it that worried him. He hoped that it was only his imagination. "...and we've got a lot of questions. You probably do, too."
A shrug, and another glance at her friend before she leaned in closer. "If you're going to talk to Coyote and I'm going to talk to Loki, we need to know what to ask for," she hissed.
"Mostly I planned an extended bitching session," she mumbled. She watched Duncan's face as he treated her wound, her own face nearly blank. "So, where are we? Hell, when are we?"
Duncan's fingers slowed, but he kept his face impassive.
When?
"It is the ninth month of the thirtieth year of the age of the Dragon. We are in Ferelden, between the village of Lothering and the fortress at Ostagar, our destination." He regarded them steadily. "And none of what I am saying has more than the most superficial meaning for you, does it?"
"N-no, sir," Edana said. "It really kind of doesn't." She looked at Shai, her face tight. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, hon. Or Texas, for that matter."
She snorted softly. "At least whoever it is has enough of a sense of humor to give us the language," she said quietly. "What are we going to do?" Her voice cracked into a whisper on the last word.
"You are not from... here, then," Duncan said, tying a new strip of bandage into place.
"No, sir," Edana said, sounding almost numb. "We're from... another world, I think. I saw crossbows at the farm," she mumbled. "Drawn, not cranked. So home is maybe... five hundred years ahead of here, tech-wise? I can never keep that stuff straight."
"'Dana we don't have any skills," Shai insisted. "Neither of us has anything we can use to make a living here!"
"Perhaps," Duncan said. "But perhaps not." He considered them both. "Do either of you have training in combat?"
Edana blinked, startled out of her daze momentarily. "Uh... Shai does. I've got about six months of Ka- of unarmed combat training when I was nine, and one sparring session with the SCA heavy fighters... I mean, with a... sport combat group? They didn't fight for real, just for play."
Duncan's mind went completely blank at the concept of battle for play. Though after a moment of thought, it sounded perfectly suited to the King.
He quashed that traitorous thought with savage precision. Then Shai was speaking again.
"I can shoot, yes," she said uncertainly, "but it's been a long time since I shot anything that didn't require gunpowder. And I really doubt rifle-bayonet training crosses over very well." She seemed to be close to panic.
"You are alive," Duncan pointed out. "Naked, unarmed, surprised, and in a world entirely unfamiliar to you, with no training to speak of... you survived an attack by Darkspawn. That is not inconsequential." He sat back on his heels, considering them both. They were young. Frightened. Alone. But they were still trying to think and plan.
It was something he could wish some of his recruits could manage. He tried very hard not to connect Alistair with that thought.
"Darkspawn," Edana said. "Is that what those... things... were?" She sounded revolted. "The smell!"
Shai's hand twitched toward her face, as if to cover her nose. "I'd say I've smelled worse, but I'd be lying." She gently examined the bandage on her arm, but could find no fault. "Would I be wrong in guessing you have an idea?"
"An offer," Duncan corrected. "As I have said, Ser Jory and Daveth are recruits to the Gray Wardens. It would not be difficult to add you to their number."
"Um," Edana said, looking at Shai.
"Mm," Shai agreed, looking back and raising her eyebrows. Edana shrugged, then nodded.
"We'd... probably find that a lot more exciting and likely be incredibly honored to be asked, if we knew what a Gray Warden was," she pointed out diffidently.
Duncan sighed and bowed his head. That they did not know was... strange. Children grew up on legends of the Gray Wardens' prowess. But they were from another world; it would be remiss of him to forget that.
So he told them. He told them of the Blight, of the coming darkness, and of his own journey to add more numbers to their ranks. He told them of the Gryphons that had flown from Weisshaupt, which made their eyes light up, only to fall in disappointment when he explained that they had died out centuries ago. He told of the brotherhood of the Gray Wardens, and how none could ever count themselves alone, when a single other of their order existed.
There was a long moment of silence when he was done. Both the girls looked appropriately awed, he thought.
"...okay," Edana nodded. "I am now appropriately impressed and honored. Now. Tell us the rest. There's gotta be a catch."
"There has to be one," Shai interjected. "You're asking us to be some kind of...foot soldier hero? And things never end well for people who try to be heroes. I'd rather be a Milk Maid."
"If the Blight is not ended, there will be little chance of a normal life," Duncan said gravely. "Some have lasted nearly a century before they were finally ended. It takes decades for the world to recover, and there are uncounted deaths." He sighed heavily. "Without those willing to take action, your life as a milkmaid could be just as short as any soldier's."
He leaned forward. "Yes, it will be a difficult life. Yes, much will be asked of you. But you will have a place. People you can trust. You will not be alone." Their glances at one another still held reluctance.
Sitting back, he thought for a moment. "I am not recruiting heroes," he finally said, and smiled thinly. "They would be in short supply, truth be told. I am simply seeking people who will be willing to... stand."
Shai sighed tiredly. "I just got back from a war." She scrubbed a hand over her face. "As much as the thought of being able to actually be useful this time appeals, I thought I was done." She tugged at her short hair and studied the ground intently.
Duncan shook his head, regretful. "I am very sorry, but I think that you may not have that option. The Darkspawn taint can infect other living beings. The most common, and the easiest, way for this to happen is through consumption of the blood or the flesh. The mibari, the Ferelden wardogs, have a particular problem with this. Many of them die."
"But that's not the only way, is it?" Edana filled in, her hand reaching out to clutch at Shai's. "Disease vectors don't work that way."
"Indeed," Duncan agreed. "And it pains me to say so, but I believe that you are one of the unlucky, in that regard. You can yet be saved, but you must become a Gray Warden to do so."
"Fabulous, the first thing I do when magically transported to a new world? Catch the local STD." She continued to stare at the ground, clutching her friend's hand.
Duncan let the silence stretch. There was really no more he could say.
Abruptly, Shai looked up at Edana. "You have a choice," she said.
Edana snorted ungracefully. "Puh-leeze," she said, drawing the word out strangely and with deep sarcasm. "If you think you're getting more than a hundred feet of me like ever from here on out, then you really are having a blonde moment." A watery smile. "Who else is going to get my stupid jokes?"
Suddenly her nose wrinkled, and she looked more than a little nauseated. "Oh god. Ew." She looked at him accusingly. "I just bet that the cure and the Gray Warden thing are the same thing. Which means some kind of vaccination theory. Which means... oh ew. Since getting the blood in your mouth is the most reliable way to... we're going to have to drink it, aren't we?"
Before the last word left her lips, Duncan was kneeling before them. His metal gauntlets clasped around their joined hands painfully. "I know not where you've obtained your information, strangers, but know this. The Joining is the Gray Wardens' most closely guarded secret and we protect it."
Edana made a frightened squeaking sound deep in her throat, and her eyes went wide. "I... right. Logic bad. Got it. I'll just... be sitting here and keeping my mouth shut."
Duncan eyed them both sternly for another moment, then his grip on their hands relaxed, and he stood. "We will be eating soon, I think. You had best both get some rest. It is still two days to Ostagar, and tomorrow's journey will not be short." Nodding mutely, Edana watched him walk over and speak quietly to Jory.
"I... think that kinda put an end to the 'having a choice' thing," she said, trying to make a joke of it. Her fingers were cold against the skin of Shai's hand.
Shai reached down to gather up her bloody bandage. "There's more to this than we've guessed," she murmured. "We need to have a talk with the boys. Bets that they're behind this."
"I don't do sucker bets," Edana said, wrapping her arms around her legs. "But if you're willing to take one, ten bucks says that even if this is the kind of worlds where the gods put in personal appearances, that we won't get word one out of 'em."
"Like I said, mostly bitching. Though, I'd really like to hedge my bets on surviving this "joining" thing. Just... remind them that they're the ones that put us here, it'd be a shame to kill us off right away, y'know?" She stood and looked around for anything more that might have her blood on it.
"It's worth a shot," Edana nodded. "Though I have to say that mine would probably find even his own plans getting that messed up to be... pretty fucking funny." She sighed and let her forehead fall to her knees. "I swear I can hear the bastard laughing."
"We'll just have to convince them that the best hijinks would come from us surviving." She crouched down to gather up some wood. "We'll borrow some fire from the main camp, I don't think we want an audience, it'd just confuse them more."
"If you want," Edana said with some indifference, hauling herself to her feet and starting to prod around for dry sticks. "I think we're going to confuse them plenty, so just a bit of praying-slash-bitching probably isn't going to add much. I've got the feeling that we're going to be having a lot of Giles-and-Buffy type 'what did you even just say' type conversations."
"I'd just like to avoid the Spanish Inquisition until we know what their religions are like, y'know?"
They cleared an area just within sight of the main camp, set up their own small camp fire. Shai brought a burning branch over, hoping like hell she wasn't about to embarrass herself by failing to start a fire.
They had some of the awful rotgut from the farm. Shai had no idea what would pass for sage or peyote on this world, so she crossed her fingers that the liquor would work.
"Well, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, so we should be fine if we are," Edana quipped lamely, then paused. "God. I'm the Xander. I'm totally going to be the Xander." She sighed.
"Okay. Let's get to it." She sat down crosslegged by the fire pit. "You do your thing, I'll do mine? Our boys aren't usually so compatible that they're gonna like a shared..." a handwave. "Thingie." She felt more than a little punch-drunk, slightly dizzy with weariness, culture-shock, dimention-lag, and a strong sense of unreality. Probably the best state of mind to try to pray in, truth be told.
They took seats on opposite sides of the fire.
Shai soaked her blood bandages with the alcohol before tossing them onto the fire. "Old man, I'm hoping you have a plan. While I'm sure it's been great fun to watch us struggling along so far, wouldn't it be an even better tale if we made it out of this alive? Surely your brother wouldn't be amiss to dip his healing hand in so we might do some good while we roam for your benefit?"
For a moment, she thought she saw something in the smoke. She blinked, and saw only smoke. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the borrowed blanket close around her shoulders.
Edana took the jug, swigged with another horrible grimace, then poured a measure out on the ground. "For you, you sadistic bastard. I know you're laughing your ass off, and yeah. I get it. Har har. I'm sure I'm going to look really ridiculous doing this. Just... remember that Valhalla always sounded like a drag to me, okay?" She stared deeply into the flames, the flickering pattern and dancing warmth draining the tension from her shoulders, if only for a moment. A cool breeze against the back of her neck felt like the touch of a hand, and the crackle of the fire could be mistaken for laughter, if one listened with half an ear. She smiled, a little resigned. At least it didn't feel or sound terribly mean-spirited. For now, anyway.
Then the wind changed, blowing smoke directly in her face, and she changed her mind.
