Chapter 7

Melisende and Ronan had finally reached Gwaren. They had been walking for days, unsure if they were heading in the right direction. Melisende had never been to Gwaren, and Ronan had rarely ever wandered away from his clan until now. And even when he had been away from the forest, it had been with his clan. He had never had to find his own way. He had been lucky that he had even made it to Vigil's Keep as quickly as he did.

As they had skirted the forest that contained his home, he had briefly contemplated returning for a quick check on his mother. But he had decided against that. He couldn't face his father empty handed. Moreover, he had to admit, he was afraid that the worst would have happened while he was away. Ronan once again wished that his father had sent somebody else on this wild goose chase. Surely, his mother would have benefitted greatly from his presence. His father could easily have sent his cousin Rhys to find Tristan. But for some still unfathomable reason he had sent him.

Gwaren was not as impressive as Denerim, but it was a lot cleaner. And nobody looked oddly upon Ronan as they walked through the town. No doubt they were accustomed to seeing Dalish elves. Being so close to the forest, there were occasions when a Dalish would come to town for one reason or another. Really, Ronan found that they looked oddly upon Melisende. A woman, walking confidently through town with two swords on her back and one wrapped carefully in a bundle and strung over her shoulder, must have been a rare sight for them. For why else would they stare curiously at her?

"Where should we look?" Ronan asked Melisende as he strutted alongside her.

"I suppose we should try the inn. Tristan would need a place to stay, and unless he has family or friends in Gwaren that I know nothing of, then he would surely be at the inn." Melisende replied as she surveyed the town around her, shivering a little at the cold.

Ronan highly doubted that Tristan had family in Gwaren. He couldn't believe that he would have any friends here either. The fact that the loggers had made their way all the way to Denerim just to sell Tristan's sword didn't bode well in Ronan's opinion, but he kept his mouth shut. He could tell on their way here that Melisende probably thought the same, though she had mentioned that it probably meant that Tristan was still in Gwaren. Possibly robbed and left for dead, Ronan had thought. He told himself to shut up and then replied to Melisende. "Let's go to the inn then."

…

The inn was quiet, warm, and smelt faintly of cedar wood. Melisende and Ronan made their way to the front counter, but nobody was there at the moment. Ronan sighed with impatience. Melisende sent him a look of calm assurance before calling out politely at the side of a closed door. She turned back to Ronan.

"Patience, Ronan," she said.

Ronan shook his head. "Every minute we waste looking for him is another minute passed with my mother in pain. I swear…"

Ronan was cut off by the creaking open of the door. A wiry thin man with graying hair came walking through the door, leaning on a cane for support. "Yes?" he asked them. "Can I help you?"

"We are hoping that you can." Melisende replied.

"Are you looking for a room?" the innkeeper inquired as he gazed at the two of them with restrained interest. Melisende shook her head.

"No, we are looking for a friend. We have reason to believe he is here in town and we thought he might be staying here." Melisende explained.

"Oh? I'm afraid my inn is quite empty at the moment. There are only a handful of people who travel to Gwaren this close to the beginning of winter," the innkeeper shrugged and flashed them an apologetic look.

Ronan cursed under his breath. The fool was not even in Gwaren. Perhaps he never had been here. Just because the loggers were from Gwaren didn't mean that they had gotten their hands on the sword in this town. He stalked over to the innkeeper and slammed his fist onto the wooden counter. "Tell me, was the Warden Commander ever here?"

The innkeeper looked surprised and then frowned at Ronan. "Please don't do that again."

"Tell me." Ronan growled back. Melisende gently placed an arm in front of Ronan and pushed him back slightly, sending him a warning look.

"Apologies for my friend here, but, any information would be helpful." Melisende said calmly to the innkeeper. He continued to frown.

"Why are you looking for the Warden Commander?" the innkeeper asked curiously.

"I am a Grey Warden. I have a message for him." Melisende told the innkeeper. Ronan shook his head and backed away to pace impatiently in the small space in front of the counter. A message? That fool has run away from his duties without telling anyone. Why was she lying? To protect his lousy reputation? Ronan thought.

The innkeeper looked shocked to find out that Melisende was a Grey Warden. He fingered his chin in thought as he looked her over. "If that is true, then you'd best not advertise that fact. Around here, most people care not for the Grey Wardens and look upon them unkindly."

Melisende sighed. "I appreciate the warning, but… you haven't answered our question. Was the Commander ever here?"

The innkeeper tapped the counter and whistled. "A tip would be nice first."

"By the gods…" Ronan muttered in exasperation. Melisende reluctantly reached into her pouch and fished for some coins. She placed a few silvers onto the counter.

"Would this do?" she furiously asked the innkeeper. She was beginning to lose her patience now too.

"I suppose," the innkeeper sighed, grabbing at the coins and placing them out of view, but clearly still hesitant to say a word.

"Look here. You're lucky that you're old and use a cane, otherwise I would have throttled the answer out of you already. I've been brought up to respect my elders and protect the weak, but right now, you are cutting it close and…" Melisende threatened as politely as she could. Ronan couldn't help but chuckle as the innkeeper held his hands up in submission.

"It will do," the innkeeper quickly babbled, interrupting any further threats from Melisende.

"Now, then, kindly tell us." Melisende gestured for him to continue.

"The Grey Warden Commander was here. He was staying at this inn, in fact, up until a few days ago. There was some trouble at the tavern and he left. I wasn't even aware that he was the Warden Commander. That's all I know. Now, please leave." The innkeeper shooed them off. Sending the innkeeper a murderous look, Ronan only too happily left the inn. Melisende followed.

Once outside, Ronan kicked at the dirt in frustration. "Now how are we going to find him? He could be anywhere! Again we have to start from scratch!"

Melisende took a seat on a bench and closed her eyes. "Somebody will know something. We just have to ask around."

Ronan joined her on the bench. "Why do you care so much for this man? He is nothing but a coward, running away from his duties, from his fa… friends." Ronan had almost said family. It bothered him that Tristan had a loyal friend like Melisende, and even the King. He didn't understand it. What was so special about Tristan?

"You have no right to say things like that." Melisende countered, but not as angrily as Ronan would have expected. She made no move to explain her feelings. She just sat there and watched the people of Gwaren pass to and fro, ignoring Ronan's agitation. Then she stood up. "Let's check out the tavern."

…

Nobody at the tavern could tell them anything useful. Melisende had taken the innkeeper's advice to heart and avoided mentioning that she was a Grey Warden. It was a good thing too, because the people at the tavern mostly talked of the incident with disdain. Apparently, Tristan had come to the defense of a woman, starting a brawl. Then he, Teyrn Loghain's murderer, they would say with the same contempt, had used magic, magic, the patrons would exclaim in disbelief and fearfully point to the evidence – a broken table, shattered into pieces by a lightning bolt. They would say nothing else and wave Melisende and Ronan away.

They found themselves once again sitting on a bench outside in the streets of Gwaren. It was late in the day, they were unsure of what to do next. Melisende was relieved to find that Tristan was still alive, for she had feared him dead when they had found his sword in the Denerim marketplace. She had once thought that only death could part him from his sword, but she had been wrong. She found herself questioning if she even knew Tristan at all. They had travelled together for over a year during the Blight, and then had continued to fight side by side for nearly two years after that. Surely that was enough time to know someone, right?

However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she hadn't even known herself for a time. She had hidden away from the world for a while, losing herself to drink and despair. But then things had turned around for her, with the help of her friends. So, if she hadn't even known herself for much of that time, then how could she claim to truly know Tristan? Perhaps Alistair was right, maybe Tristan just needed time to himself. He hadn't after all, stopped fighting or leading since, well, since Ostagar. And perhaps Morrigan had dealt him a hard card. Maybe he just needed time…

She stared off into the marketplace, business slowing to a trickle this late in the day. She spied a young woman with a baby being fawned over by a group of older women. They cooed and clucked over the baby loudly, like a bunch of hens.

"Why do women fawn over babies as if they are more than just squirmy, drooling, noisy, bags of turds?" Ronan harrumphed beside her. He was still quite frustrated at having to start over the search and he was taking it out on anything that annoyed him.

"I don't know." Melisende quietly replied, staring at the scene wistfully. Ronan looked at her doubtfully, but said nothing else. Had he said something wrong?

Melisende felt a sudden pang creep into her womb. She felt its emptiness. A moment of regret passed as she realized that woman could have been her… in another life. She was a Grey Warden. Nathaniel was a Grey Warden. It would take a miracle to conceive a baby… but what kind of life would it have anyway? She pushed the sudden feeling, the unexpected moment away. She turned to Ronan with interest. "Do you have children yet?"

Ronan turned to her, a horrified look on his face. "By the gods, no!"

Melisende chuckled. "I should have known by the way you described them."

"There is yet time before I have to chain myself to one woman. Luckily I haven't gotten any with child yet, or my parents might have forced me to bond with her." Ronan replied, full of mischief.

"Tristan has a child." Melisende blurted out. She regretted it immediately. It was supposed to be a secret and now Ronan knew. And who knew what Ronan's true purpose in fetching Tristan was.

Ronan looked at her with surprise. "He does?"

"Yes… that was the reason he went off in the first place. But it was supposed to be a secret… so forget I ever said anything." Melisende sent him a pleading look.

"I… understand. I will keep my mouth shut." Ronan agreed. He looked thoughtful and Melisende cursed her tongue. She was usually good about keeping secrets. She didn't know why she had revealed this one. She stood up suddenly, eager to change the subject now. "Shall we get a move on?"

"What do we do now?" Ronan asked, standing up in imitation.

"We see if anyone else knows more…"

…

"Why are the Grey Wardens so hated in this town?" Ronan asked as they stopped by the docks. The sun was setting and they had made no progress. Ronan was very frustrated. Nobody knew anything or if they did, they didn't want to say anything.

"Teyrn Loghain was a hero once. And then he betrayed the Grey Wardens at Ostagar. We couldn't let it go. Tristan killed him in a duel at the Landsmeet. He couldn't be left alive. The unity of Ferelden in face of the Blight was at stake. Loghain had grabbed power when he shouldn't have. He was crazy…" Melisende explained with a hint of regret. Ronan frowned. So Tristan was not universally loved, even if he had saved the world.

"I guess every hero has his day." Ronan replied thoughtfully. "So you were there? During the Blight?"

"Yes." Melisende answered with surprise. "I thought you knew."

"Why would I? My clan left Ferelden for a time." Ronan gazed at the sea. He was tired. He wanted this search to be over. He wanted to go home. He exhaled loudly. His hopelessness must have shown for Melisende placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't give up Ronan. We will find Tristan," she comforted him. He closed his eyes and let the cool breeze wash over his face. He felt a strand of hair come loose from its knot and blow into his face. He was tempted to go home and admit defeat to his father. Certainly, his mother would benefit from his presence. If she was even still lucid. He turned around abruptly to face Melisende.

"I don't give up easily… but…"

"I understand; your mother needs you." It was Melisende's turn to look sorrowful. "I would give anything to have my mother back in my life…"

Ronan gave Melisende a puzzled look. "Your mother is dead?"

Melisende nodded and with pain visible in her expression, continued. "My father too."

"I am sorry." Ronan said, brushing his hand along the length of her arm. She stared at him in silence for a moment. Ronan wondered if she would continue the search. Then he realized what he was doing and quickly removed his hand from Melisende's arm. She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort.

"I will continue looking for Tristan. If it is so important that he gets to your mother, I will send him over when I find him." Melisende offered.

"When? I hope your confidence is not misplaced." Ronan grinned. "In any case, that would be great. If it is not too late."

Melisende smiled back confidently. "I will do my best."

Ronan stood awkwardly in front of her. He wasn't sure what to say next. "So… I guess this is goodbye?"

"For now." Melisende seemed to hesitate for a second before she seemingly pounced on Ronan with a hug. Ronan was a little too stunned to react right away. Then he returned the gesture, squeezing her tightly. "Stay strong, Ronan," she whispered into his ear before releasing him.

"Mythal protect you Melisende. Dareth shiral." Ronan said as he turned around and walked away. Safe journey. He felt a tugging at his chest. Leaving the shem woman was harder than he thought. Astonished at his own feelings he hastily made his retreat from the docks, afraid to look back. He had gotten to know Melisende during their brief time together. He would even say they had become friends. He never thought that he could become friends with a shem. He realized with a sharp pang that he would miss her. However, he let those thoughts float to the back of his mind. His mother needed him. His father might or might not berate him for coming home empty handed, but he had tried his best. No one could blame him for Tristan's own cowardice.