Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening, and Dragon Age II, Dragon Age II DLC, Dragon Age Inquisition as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

Chapter Four

"I've got a man down, here," Elilia said. She was over the hill a short distance hunting for the tracks of the werewolves that ran from them after issuing a warning in plain King's Tongue not to pursue further when she somehow managed to persuade them not to attack. The "savage beasts," it seemed, were somehow anything but. "One of the Dalish."

Hawke and Bethany hurried to her side. "He's badly injured, and something's in his blood. I don't think it's the Blight, but it works to about the same end," Bethany said. "Whatever it is, I don't think I can do anything about it."

"Nor I," Hawke said. "His best chance of survival is if we get him back to his people."

Loghain came up beside them and casually gathered the fallen hunter into his arms. "Perhaps Zathrien will be so happy to see one of his young hunters restored to him that he will condescend to explain exactly why he did not tell us that the sentient werewolves seem to be seeking revenge against his clan for something. But I doubt it. Come on."

The hunter Mythra met them at the edge of camp. "We saw you bringing one of our missing hunters with you. Ah! Deygan! Thank you, shemlen, for bringing him back to us. We will take him to our healers immediately. We are in your debt."

"We'd like to speak to Zathrien, if we may," Loghain said. "We have some questions."

"I am… sure he will allow it," Mythra said. "Follow me."

"Yes, my friends?" the Keeper said as they approached.

Loghain launched right into it. "Why didn't you tell us that the werewolves are sentient?"

Zathrien was momentarily taken aback, but rallied quickly. "They are far from sentient, Teyrn Loghain."

"They spoke to us."

"Speech doesn't mean sentience. You humans have a pet bird you teach to repeat a few words. I believe you call it a 'parrot.' It's still merely a beast, is it not?"

"That's debatable. And these creatures weren't merely 'repeating.' They were speaking and reasoning. They backed off when the Warden persuaded them to with a silver tongue. A beast doesn't do that. And they seem to hold a grudge with your Clan."

"Who knows what goes on in such a savage brain?" Zathrien said. "Perhaps they have some hatred against elves in general, and took it out on our clan."

"Ha. Perhaps."

"I think the best and most pertinent question, Teyrn Loghain, is will you continue to help us, or will you walk away?" Zathrien said.

Loghain sighed. He looked at the Warden. The Warden looked back and nodded. "We will help," he said.

Zathrien bowed slightly. "Thank you."

"You'd better not be playing us for fools, though," Loghain said. He led the way back into the forest with his shoulders hunched up beneath his armor.

Once out of the camp, he stopped and turned to the Warden. "I'm sorry I took command back there. Zathrien pisses me off more than considerably."

"I've noticed the tension. How do you even know him?" she asked.

"There are a number of Dalish clans that pass close to Gwaren and come into the village to trade with us. They're all quite peaceful, usually a little bit anxious. Zathrien's clan comes in looking for trouble. I give word to the people of the village not to reciprocate, but someday my word won't be enough to told them back. I've gone to Zathrien in the interests of peace a number of times but he's not interested in talking. I know the belligerence of his people stems from him. The funny thing is, going through the records left by the Teyrns of Gwaren who came before me, apparently Zathrien's been causing trouble for a long time. A very long time. Something on the order of centuries. My predecessors were apparently too afraid of him to try to do anything about him."

"Are you too afraid?" Alistair asked.

"He hasn't done anything to me bad enough to make me thing that I should do anything about him - yet. But I do wonder how it is that he seems to have been around for such a very long time."

"Maybe he comes from a long line of Keepers named Zathrien," Bethany said.

"Yeah. Maybe," Loghain said. He sounded distinctly unconvinced. "Maybe we'd better get moving. The sooner this is done the sooner we can leave."

They continued back through the forest and the Warden found a fallen tree from which some Ironbark had fallen. She had already spoken to the crafts master of the clan about Ironbark, and she gathered it and put it in her pack for him despite Loghain's eye roll. They followed the next path, trying to be thorough in their search for the missing hunters, and were attacked by sylvans. At the end of the path stood a tall white sylvan. Instead of attacking, it spoke to them.

"What manner of beast be thee, that comes before this elder tree?"

Eyes popped. Loghain's jaw dropped. "It's real? I never thought it was real. Just drunken lumberjacks telling tales."

"Tales about a… talking tree?" Hawke asked.

"Tales about something they called the 'Grand Oak.' A… 'poetic' tree."

"That is my name, in passing fame," the tree said, gesticulating with a grasping branch hand. "Who be thee, who knowest me?"

"Oh, we're just a… band of humans and elves," Loghain said, scratching at his neck.

"Cooperation? Not often seen. Humans often treat elves mean. Elves then oft reciprocate. Hate most oft engenders hate."

Hawke leaned in close to Bethany. "What sort of spirit would make a rhyming tree?" she asked.

"I hesitate to even dream."

"I'm kind of diggin' it," Zevon said. "A little hackneyed, but I wish I could rhyme things so easily."

"Hackneyed, he says? Foresooth, says I! This cruel talk has made me cry!" the tree said, and covered its "face" with its hand.

"Zevon, don't make the spirit-tree angry," Loghain said. "The way it talks doesn't hurt anything, and it hasn't been aggressive like the other sylvans thus far."

"I have no wish to harm thy clutch, and unless thou thinkst it far too much, perhaps it is not much too soon for me to ask of you a boon?" the tree asked.

"What do you want?" the Warden asked.

"All that I have on this earth is my seed. A man from the east did an evil deed. Late in the night did he steal in and creep and take my seed while alone did I sleep."

"You want us to… go find this man, then? And get back your seed? An acorn, I would presume?" the Warden said.

"Indeed. My seed. And for this deed, I will fulfill for you a need. You pass beneath the forest bough, but you do not quite know how. I can help you safely through. The forest will open itself to you."

Loghain and the Warden looked at each other. "Sounds like a good deal, get one little acorn back from one man in exchange for safe passage through these woods," the Warden said.

Loghain shrugged. "Now we're running errands for trees. I'm sensing a pattern here, Warden."