Chapter 6

Tristan sat quietly contemplating his hand of cards in the local tavern. It was filled to the brim with drunken loggers, sailors, and fishermen, with a fiddler fervently emitting tunes for them to dance to. Brenna meanwhile, had gotten bored with watching him play cards and had joined in the merry dancing, much to the delight of the drunks.

Tristan and Brenna had spent the last two days together, with Tristan and Loki hovering behind Brenna as she continued to ply her trade. They had laughed at the nervous scowls her customers exhibited at the sight of Tristan and Loki. This afternoon, however, they had decided to spend a little time in the warm tavern. The temperature outside was beginning to plummet. Loki, however, remained outside for the time being. It was much too crowded to bring the hound into the tavern.

Tristan took a sip of his ale as he tried to concentrate on the game. He had bet a lot of money and the sailor he was playing against was quite good, though Tristan had a suspicious feeling that he was cheating. Tristan had, after all, learned to play cards only a few years ago from one of the better cheats he had ever met – Isabela, the captain of the Siren's Call, and an old acquaintance of Zevran. Isabela had been a tireless flirt, trying to distract him from her cheating with her charm, but to no avail. But now, it was Brenna who was distracting him. Not on purpose, but she nevertheless was making it hard to think straight with her twirling and swaying back and forth to the fiddle. The cards, Tristan, look at the cards… he chided himself.

Brenna laughed as she danced to and fro, swinging through the arms of many a drunken man and a few tavern wenches too. Tristan wasn't the only one distracted by her gleeful and sensuous dance. Usually, dancing to a fiddle was not in the least tantalizing, but Brenna made it so. One bold, but drunk, man kept his grip on Brenna as she passed by him. He clumsily tried to feel her up. Tristan frowned and would have leapt up in Brenna's defense, but she calmly laughed, playfully slapped him away and moved on. Tristan met Brenna's gaze. Her vivid green eyes smiled coyly along with her mouth and she shrugged nonchalantly, continuing to dance. Tristan shook his head and turned his attention back to his card game, which he was losing badly now. His opponent was a cheat, but he hadn't been able to catch him in the act with Brenna's distracting carousing. Focus, he reprimanded himself. Brenna can take care of herself.

As Tristan's attention returned to the game at hand, the drunken man once again made his way up to Brenna, this time he was angry. She had embarrassed him in front of his friends. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her closer to him, chuckling. Brenna tried to twist away but he was too strong for her. He tried to plant a kiss on her but she turned away quickly.

"Unhand me!" she shouted. Hearing this, Tristan looked up from his game of cards. Oh, for the love of the Maker… he stood up, tossed his cards onto the table and pushed his way to the middle of the tavern. He grabbed the drunken man by the shoulder and turned him around roughly.

"Is there a problem here?" Tristan scowled at the drunken man. The room went quiet, sensing trouble. There was an air of excitement around the room; anticipation of a brawl always did that. The tavern owner eyed the scene nervously, not wanting to stop free entertainment, but also not wanting his establishment to be trashed.

"Mind your business," the drunken man managed to respond, slurring his words. Brenna tried again to break free of his grip. She looked at Tristan pleadingly, but also with an apologetic look. She hadn't meant to start trouble…

"Do as she says. Unhand her." Tristan commanded menacingly, bunching his fists at his side. A bit of murmurs broke the silence. The tavern's customers were no doubt placing bets on the outcome of the fight they knew was coming. The drunken man stared at Tristan, sizing him up. He turned to Brenna and leered at her hungrily.

"Is this harlot your wife? You should know better than to let her dance in a tavern like a loose woman…" the drunken man spat out, smirking at Brenna as he said the words. Brenna winced at the word harlot. That's it, jerk, you asked for it, Tristan thought as he brought his right fist swinging towards the drunken man's head and connecting with a sharp crack. The drunken man fell backwards, his nose a bloody mess. The tavern erupted into "oohs". The drunken man's friends ran to his side. Brenna quickly ran to Tristan's side. The tavern's owner came running to the center of the room.

"Stop! This goes no further!" he shouted, waving his arms in the air. The occupants of the tavern booed, wanting to see a brawl. The drunken man got up, holding his nose in pain. His friends glared at Tristan wickedly.

"No worries. We are leaving." Tristan gently shoved Brenna towards the door and started backing away slowly, keeping an eye on the group of angry men scowling at him. One man in particular stared at Tristan intensely, a puzzled look on his face. Tristan felt intensely uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Wait, I know you…" the man burst into speech. He trudged forward to stand face to face with Tristan. "I was there… you was the one that killed the teyrn!"

Maker, this is going to get ugly. "Brenna, go outside, now." Tristan quietly told Brenna. She looked around the tavern, noticing the looks of anger on everyone's face. They had recognized Tristan. She wanted to stay by his side but he urged her once more to leave, even pushing her to the door.

"I was at the Landsmeet. This man is the Grey Warden that killed Teyrn Loghain! Loghain was our hero; he drove out the Orlesian pigs from Ferelden. He deserved a hero's death!" the man continued shouting.

"But the Grey Wardens, they's stopped the Blight…" a tavern wench countered loudly. The man glared at her.

"They killed Loghain and puts one of them own on the throne!" the man angrily replied to the wench and the room at large.

"Yeah, but the teyrn's daughter is still Queen…" the wench spoke up again. The man angrily waved her off.

"Shut up wench!" the man pointed at Tristan. "Get him!"

The tavern owner jumped out of the way as the group of men all ran toward Tristan at once. Tristan shook his head and cursed as they surrounded him. Not everyone in the tavern was after him, but the ones that weren't were not making any effort to help him either. He would have to use magic then. He didn't want to kill anybody though. He was tired of killing. A few men pulled out daggers as they surrounded him, snapping at him but at the same time keeping fearfully at bay like a pack of dogs cornering a wolf. They wanted to get him, but were wary of his reputation. All they needed to attack was for one of them to take the bold initiative and strike first. But Tristan wasn't going to let them do that. He closed his eyes and swiftly called up a wave of energy which rang out from all around him, knocking back all the men who had surrounded him. The room quieted again in surprise.

"It's the mage warden!" somebody yelled in fear. The men clambered up from the floor, angrier now. Before they could try anything again Tristan decided to send them another warning. He struck a table with a lightning bolt, sending pieces of the table flying through the air. Everybody ducked for cover.

"I'm leaving now. Follow me at your own peril." Tristan warned as he backed away slowly, and then turned to walk through the door. The cold, crisp air, hit him like a shock. He sighted Brenna nervously pacing back and forth next to Loki. She looked up in surprise and relief as he walked toward them. He bent down to ruffle Loki's head.

"Are you alright?" Brenna asked Tristan. He nodded. He was suddenly in a foul mood. If it hadn't been for Brenna, nobody would have recognized him. Now he had to leave Gwaren. He didn't know where to go. He certainly didn't want to go back to Vigil's Keep, or Denerim. Gwaren had been one of the only towns where he could wander freely. In other places, people might more easily recognize him. He stalked off down the road angrily, whistling for Loki to follow. Brenna shadowed them.

"I'm sorry, Tristan, I didn't mean for that to happen…" she said.

"Well, it did." Tristan replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I don't know how you ever survived on your own…"

"I didn't need your help. I've gotten myself out of countless situations like that before. You didn't have to play the hero." Brenna angrily retorted. Tristan turned around to glare at her.

"I didn't play the hero. I am not a hero. I never was and I never will be. I was simply helping a friend," he snapped at her. Brenna regarded him pitiably. She had touched a raw nerve. She regretted her words.

"I am sorry. Thank you." Brenna said. Tristan only shrugged, turned around and continued walking towards the Brecilian passage. Brenna silently followed him. She wondered where he was going. She was still in the dark as to why he was here in the first place. He had said nothing to her these past two days. She had suspected that he had only acted like everything was alright. But now he was in a foul mood. If he considered her a friend, then why wouldn't he let her help him?

…

They had been walking for a few hours, the air turning colder as they left the Brecilian Passage and entered into a large open plain. Brenna watched as her breath appeared before her, like steam from a boiling pot of water. She was tired and wanted to stop.

"Where are you going?" she called out to Tristan in front of her. He stopped and turned around to look her way.

"Oh, you're still following me?" he grinned in reply. "It had gotten so quiet I thought it was just me and Loki."

"Oh sod off." Brenna replied with exasperation. She crossed her arms over her chest to show her frustration. "I'm tired."

"Then rest." Tristan gestured to the ground.

"Are you jesting? You expect me to just sit on the cold ground?"

"Why not? I do it all the time. Look, I'll do it now." Tristan lobbed himself onto the ground in a lounging position. Brenna rolled her eyes.

"Look if you don't know where to go, just come to my home. It is not far from here. It is certainly better than sitting on the ground." Brenna suggested.

"But I thought you were tired now. Rest, Brenna!" Loki sauntered over to Tristan and tried to sit on him. "Look, even Loki doesn't mind a little rest on the ground… well on me anyway."

"You're avoiding answering me." Brenna pouted. Tristan chuckled. Teasing Brenna was more fun than he thought possible. Maker, she's cute when she's angry. He considered her question and her invitation. He didn't know where to go. He knew where he didn't want to go. And that left him with not too many options. He could go to Redcliffe, but they would surely recognize him there. He could wander around the Bannorn for a bit, but many of the banns would surely recognize him. Brenna had invited him to her home. That didn't sound too bad actually. He could go with her, at least for a while. He didn't want to overstay his welcome… though somehow he didn't think Brenna would mind if he never left.

"Alright, alright." Tristan pushed Loki off of him and sat up. "I'll go with you to your home. Lead on, m'lady."

"Good. Let's go. We can make it there by nightfall." Brenna smiled as she headed toward her home. Tristan and Loki followed.

They walked quietly through the fields, Brenna shivering visibly in the cold. If Tristan had a cloak, he would have offered it to her, even though she already had one. But he hadn't gotten around to buying a new one. And then he left Gwaren abruptly. He rubbed his own arms to try and get some life in them. As he did this he watched Brenna, her long legs striding gracefully through the tall grass. She really did remind him of a cat. Her movements were so careful, yet fluid and effortless. Eyeing the long field ahead of them, Tristan had an idea for warming up.

"You have long legs for a halfling." Tristan remarked casually. Brenna did not stop walking but turned her head sideways to give him a questioning look.

"Should I be flattered, or offended at your words?" she asked.

"Such beautiful legs." Tristan mused aloud. "I wonder if they are as swift and powerful as they are lovely." This time Brenna stopped, arching a brow and grinning mischievously at Tristan.

"Are you challenging me to a race? Because there is no way that you could outrun me. You are way too large to be fast." Brenna stated daringly.

She fell for it. Tristan shrugged his shoulders. "If you are so sure that you would outrun me, then there is no point in racing, is there?"

"Oh come now, don't be a coward and back out. You started this." Brenna challenged.

"If you insist." Tristan acquiesced. Grinning, he burst into a run through the fields.

"Why that cheat…" Brenna muttered as she too erupted into a swift run, hiking up her skirt and trying to catch up to Tristan. Loki ran barking after them both, wagging his stub of a tail.

Tristan felt his blood pumping, running through his body, warming him. He felt re-energized as his feet pounded on the ground and he breathed in the cool air. He looked over his shoulder to see if Brenna was following. And then because he wasn't paying attention to what was ahead, his foot pounded not onto the ground, but onto ice, which cracked under his weight and caused him to fall forward into the frozen, murky waters of a pond. The water sent a shock of cold through his body and he was momentarily confused. His face was in the water. It wasn't deep; he was able to push himself up onto his knees.

Brenna caught up, gasping at the sight of Tristan sitting on his knees in a pond. "Tristan!" she exclaimed. She ran close to the pond, but he halted her, an apologetic smile covering his face.

"It's only a pond. Don't help me, you'll get wet." Tristan said as he stood up and dragged himself, dripping wet, out of the pond. Now he was really going to be cold. He supposed he deserved it. He had run off like a buffoon. "I can be so clumsy sometimes…"

"Yes, but now you are soaking wet – in the cold. Take my cloak." Brenna offered as she came to his side, beginning to pull off her cloak. Tristan shook his head furiously.

"No, no. You need it."

"Please take it Tristan. This is no time to be stubborn." Brenna pushed.

"I'm not being stubborn. I insist you keep it. Besides were almost there, no?" Tristan gestured to the far off scenery. In front of them to the north were plains, and to the east, rolling hills and behind those, the endless forest.

"Let's at least make a fire to dry you…" Brenna suggested.

"No." Tristan firmly replied. "We're almost there…"

"As you wish then." Brenna regarded him with calm indignation. Why did men have to act so tough?

"I'll be fine." Tristan reassured her, as if he had read her thoughts on her face. "We are almost there."

…

But they weren't almost there. It took another two hours in the cold. If the sun had been around, Tristan might have dried, but it hid behind the clouds refusing to show itself. The wind picked up, making the cold feel even colder. Brenna cursed his stubbornness.

At first, Tristan chattered to Brenna, an edge of anxiety audible in his voice. He blabbered on uncharacteristically about things he had seen and done. This only made Brenna worry. She admitted that she didn't know him that well, but she did know that he was never one to talk just for the sake of hearing his voice. And then he grew quiet and slowed down his brisk pace to a dull trot. Brenna finally had enough; she tore off her cloak and covered him with it. She took the chance to touch his face – it was so cold. His lips were blue. Even with her cloak over his shoulders, he shivered. Brenna said a silent prayer for the Maker to watch over him.

By the time they got to the farmstead, Brenna almost had to drag him through the door. Loki seemed to sense that something was wrong and he whined and paced around the inside of the old house. It was cold in the house. She needed to make a fire, quickly.

"Take off your clothes, now!" she commanded Tristan, who stood in the middle of the house looking dazed. Brenna went to find some dry, warm clothes for Tristan to put on and gathered all the blankets she could find.

"Yes dear." Tristan answered through chattering teeth, grinning impishly at her as he stripped off all of his clothes.

Oh Maker, he's delirious. Brenna thought as she went over to the fireplace and furiously attempted to start a fire. If only Tristan were sane, he could just conjure up a fire. Why couldn't he have done that right away? Why did he have to be so stubborn? She got a spark going and then slowly a fire grew. Brenna turned her attention back to Tristan who was still standing in the middle of the room but was now naked. She grabbed a large woolen blanket and placed it over his shoulders, focusing her gaze modestly on his face. She handed him the dry clothes that she had found. As he accepted the clothes, he pulled Brenna closer to him and hugged her, placing his hands on her buttocks. Brenna slapped his hands away and broke free.

"Focus Tristan!"

"Aw, come on Leliana. Aren't you glad to see me again? You're not in the mood?" Tristan complained.

Leliana? By the Maker. She needed to warm him up and soon before he lost all his wits. "Put your clothes on."

"Look at the nice fire. We can cuddle…" Tristan chattered on as he gazed toward the fireplace, entranced by the warm glow of the fire.

"Put your clothes on!" Brenna commanded impatiently. She steered him closer to the fire.

"But I'm hot." Tristan complained.

"No, you're not. You're cold." Brenna replied sternly. Maybe she should just go along with his delirium? As long as it didn't get out of hand, it might get him to listen to her. "Do as I say, love, and we'll see what comes next."

"Fine, fine. But stop treating me like a baby. You're definitely not my mother…she has blonde hair and elf ears…" Tristan said as he fingered her hair and grazed her ears. Brenna wasn't sure what to think at that. He was delirious. What was he talking about? "When did you get black hair, Lel?"

"Tristan, just stay quiet." Brenna gently reproached. She sat him by the fire and wrapped countless blankets around him, rubbing him and holding him to make him warm again. Soon, his lips were not as blue, but he closed his eyes in tiredness. "Don't fall asleep…"

But he did.