A/N: Yes, I know that in the game the attack happens on the same day Fergus leaves, but as stated before I'm changing times and distances to make some sense. Also making room for more story, so I hope you all can bare with. Thanks for the encouraging words so far.
A/N: (3/20/2010) Continued changes made to spelling and grammar. Thanks to my betas!
A/N: (4/24/2010) Punctuation and more grammar fixes made.
A/N: (5/24/2010) Changed some minor things to meet up with my head-cannon naming conventions.
Part 5: Flying Lessons
A cascade of giggles came from up the hall. Eleanor Cousland paused in her idle chat with Lady Landra and her daughter-in-law, Oriana. All three of them seated about the stone table in the atrium turned their heads to see Aedan Cousland stride down the hall with a six-year-old boy happily draped over his shoulder.
Her grandson, Oren, was no trouble for her son to carry. His right arm held the boy securely even with the giggling and squirming. She felt a small sense of pride over how both he and his brother Fergus had turned out. They were both healthy and strong men...
Yes, men, she reminded herself. They had stopped being boys for a long while now, despite what your motherly instincts may want to tell you.
Healthy and strong men of good natures. Worthy of carrying on the Cousland name and titles. Between the two they would continue to guide and protect the people as is their right. But therein was part of the problem. Both sons were just as worthy as the other to be the next Teyrn of Highever.
She and Bryce hadn't discussed seriously about which son it would eventually be. They thought that they had a few years yet to talk it over, until the royal courier arrived with the call for aid and the order to rally at Ostagar to fight the darkspawn uprising. They had talked, sometimes argued, about who would be sent and who would stay behind. She hated the thought of any of them going, but knew they had their duty to the king to perform. In the end she agreed that only one son would stay behind and that son would eventually be the new Teyrn.
They had yet to tell either Aedan or Fergus of this choice. Not for any worry of either son crying foul. The brothers loved one another as brothers should. They were friends, comrades-in-arms, and watched one another's backs in time of need. Neither one took to jealousy over the other. When Oren was born, Aedan was just as overjoyed for Fergus as Fergus was for the birth of his son. No, jealousy had nothing to do with it.
It was the darkspawn.
If, by Maker's choice, the threat were to overrun all of Fereldan then she and Bryce's decision would be moot. Should they be defeated, but at the very high cost of both Fergus and Bryce's lives then the title would fall to Aedan. If by happy luck both her husband and son were to survive and the darkspawn defeated, then they could address both sons on the matter. Until all fates were decided they would settle for just telling Aedan he would be in charge of the castle for now and nothing else.
Eleanor smiled as Aedan walked closer, hefting Oren as if he were a heavy sack. She noted that unlike yesterday he wore comfortable clothing. A small matter of worry as they knew Aedan was expecting to go with Fergus to the battle and had to be told that morning it wouldn't be so. Now he wore clothes of an understated look. He was never one for elaborate embroidery or overly fancy patterns, so she wasn't surprised by the plainer look he chose. They were at least tailored for him - Eleanor had insisted on that much - and he cut a good figure in the simple brown breeches, vest, and blue shirt. The only signs he belonged to nobility were the quality boots and the pair of leather vambraces engraved with the Cousland heraldry.
"Good day, Mother, Oriana, Lady Landra," he grinned. "Would any of you know just where I should drop off this giggling sack of potatoes? It's awfully heavy, you see, and it's not the season for planting them just yet."
"My son is a sack of potatoes?" Oriana said, sounding more confused then amused.
"Giggling sack of potatoes," Aedan emphasized. "In fact this particular variety has a specific name. Doesn't it?"
Aedan looked at his nephew and, as if signaled, Oren thrust his fists forward and announced, "I am a sack of Orentatoes!"
"Oren . . . tatoes?" Oriana shook her head, eyeballing them both.
"Yes," Aedan said then saw Oriana's flat exasperated look and raised a hand briefly. "Now don't look at me. Oren came up with it himself."
"When they pull up the tatoes from the ground they'll be giggling," Oren stated as if it was fact. "And then aaaaaaaall the farmers will laugh, too! . . . Uncle, you think maybe when you plant me I should make a funny face? That way all the potatoes will look like it, too?"
"What sort of face?"
"Like this!" He stuck out his tongue, pushed the tip of his nose up with a finger, and crossed his eyes.
Lady Landra put a fist up to her mouth, trying her best not to look too unseemly, but the snicker and barely hidden grin gave her away. Eleanor herself pursed her lips together, but her grandson's ridiculous face made it difficult to keep composure. Oriana sat there looking dumbfounded and shook her head again. Aedan didn't hold back his laugh.
"I swear, between you and Fergus...," Oriana let the sentence trail off, then she looked at Eleanor. "Do Cousland women always have to put up with these sort of shenanigans?"
"Yes, my dear, we do," Eleanor replied, then quickly added. "And, no, you never do get used to it."
"I'm so overjoyed," she said with a sigh and looked back up at her son. "Now, get down off of your Uncle's shoulder. I'm certain he has some things to see to today."
Oriana gave an unspoken look at Aeden, who seemed to understand and helped the child off his shoulder, while still wearing a grin.
"But, Mother, Uncle promised me he'd teach me to use a sword today," even as Oren said it, he got over to his mother's lap and climbed up into it.
"Oh, he did, did he?" Oriana, wrapping an arm about her son in the way mother's do, looked at her brother-in-law again. She kept the look, then sighed and sounded a little worried, "I still say he's far too young for it, yet."
"Nonsense," Aedan said, standing up straight and smoothing out his shirt a bit. "Fergus and I were just about Oren's age when father started teaching us."
"I believe you started even younger, Aedan," Eleanor added.
Her son gave a mild grin and spoke in a joking tone, "Only so that Fergus could have someone to beat up on."
"This isn't giving me much confidence, you know," Oriana cast a slightly baleful look at Aedan.
He sighed and smiled reassuringly, "Look, I'm only going to teach him two things. How to hold a sword properly and that a sword is not a toy. The rest will be up to Fergus when he gets back."
There was a very brief silence where the word "when" was replaced by "if" in Eleanor's mind. She didn't doubt that the same happened for both Oriana and Aedan. Oren's voice broke that silence.
"Pleeeeeeease, Mother? I want to be a good swordsman like Grandfather and Father and Uncle are."
Oriana looked down at her son, and Eleanor saw the signs of that inner war that any mother went through play on her face. It wasn't just not wanting your child not to take that dangerous step. It was the realization that they had to take that step. Even if Oren wouldn't end up being Teyrn, he would be expected to rule over some area in some capacity. In Ferelden, that meant being able to bare arms and armor. In the ultimate end, he would have to be able to defend himself. To not let him take that step because you wanted him to remain innocent for another winter or two longer would only hurt him in the end.
Giving a resigned sigh, Oriana held her boy just a little tighter, "Well . . . alright. But not for too long. As I said, your Uncle probably has some things to see to today."
"Yay!" Oren blurted out and started to slide out of his mother's lap.
However, it was Aedan that stopped his progress by holding a hand up and tutting a bit. "Hold on, hold on, your mother is right. I do need to see to some things today. Going to see to some of it right now, but later on I'll grab the practice swords and we'll have a go at it, alright?"
"Oh, alright," Oren pouted some, but obediently got back into Oriana's lap.
Aedan bowed politely to them, "If you will excuse me, ladies."
The three of them inclined their heads in kind and watched him go a moment. Lady Landra was the first to speak as soon as he was out of hearing range.
"Just when are you going to marry that boy off, Eleanor? Maker knows there are quite a few Banns and a number of Arls more than willing to see their daughters married to your youngest. And any of those daughters would be horribly remiss if they didn't think your son was quite the catch."
"My dear Landra, that point of contention has been a source of frustration for quite some time now," Eleanor admitted. "Unfortunately, Aedan is a bit headstrong when it comes to that. He's stated quite a few times that he at least wants to have a voice in choosing who his bride will be. Make no mistake, he understands what we expect of him, he just . . . hasn't found the right girl yet."
It was what she said, but she knew there was a little more to it then that. It wasn't as if Eleanor wasn't aware of her son's promiscuous nature. Bryce kept accounting it to just Aedan being of that age where he needed to "sow his wild oats". She only hoped that he didn't sow so much that it left a line of bastard sons and daughters waiting for a shot at the Teyrnir. It was perhaps mean of her to think of her own son being that careless, but she wasn't going to blind herself with motherly love and ignore potential mistakes. Especially now that they've chosen him to take up the mantle.
Well, let's just hope that with some guidance and some temperance that side of him will calm, she thought with some trepidation. Or hope the right sort of woman comes his way and quickly settles the matter.
Kallian was certain she pretty much tripped over her own feet. The practice sword went thunking to the ground and she fell backwards right onto her rump. She cringed and held her right hand as it hurt and buzzed at the same time.
She had stayed up that entire morning. Wandering about, talking to various folks, looking into corners . . . finding things. By the time she ran into Duncan she was already a little tired again. He didn't quite care about her condition and before she knew it he was dragging her off to one of the rooms where they trained their house guards to fight. He insisted that he needed to see something from her, but wouldn't say exactly what. When Duncan pulled from the wall one of the heavier practice swords and faced off directly against her, she knew she was done for.
So now there she was with a thin set of padded armor and an even thinner looking practice sword. She felt awkward to say the least. Something akin to a fish out of water. Every time she hit the ground, Duncan would say something. Mostly to give her time to pull her carcass off the dirt floor, but also because they were things he needed to say.
The first happened to be . . .
"I understand that you are staying in the servant's quarters, Kallian. Mostly at your own insistence. Did you think that was the wisest thing to do?"
She never got to answer it - more like she didn't want to - and only had enough time to get to her feet and go at him again. She wondered how the old bugger managed to find that bit out and figured the noble brat probably tattled on her. The second was...
"Count yourself lucky that I also retired early for the evening and missed dinner. Our hosts simply thought us tired and were not insulted when we did not show. There best not be a repeat of this tonight, however."
She grumbled something about insults and how they seemed to always be heightened to absurd proportions where nobility was concerned, and then was promptly dumped on the ground the third time. That's when she started to get irritated with herself over not being able to stay on her feet or get a hit in on Duncan. She went at him once more and paid for it with stung hands and a bruised bum as he disarmed her with ease. Duncan said nothing at first and waited until she got up off the ground.
"You have speed, Kallian," he didn't even sound winded as he spoke. "Against a more heavily armed opponent that speed will mean your survival."
Kallian stayed hunched over with her hands on her knees, gathering her breath. Duncan was quiet for a short moment then spoke in almost a bemused tone.
"You are also not fighting me at your full potential."
That made Kallian's eyebrow raise and she craned her head to look up at him, "How ya mean?"
She saw the faintest of smiles pass over his lips, "You are fighting me as if this were some tournament match, dear girl. Trying to stand toe-to-toe with me and score points instead of genuine hits."
His smile faded fast, "The darkspawn will not show you the same courtesy. Their only instinct will be to kill you. They will not yield, they will not give you mercy, they cannot be parlayed with. Your only options will be to fight or die."
As he spoke she slowly stood up straight again, his sobering words sinking in fast.
His words were soft but clear, "Was this the way you fought through Vaughan's men?"
Kallian gave a mild frown and shook her head slowly.
"Then pick up your weapon and come at me again. Show me how you truly fight."
Kallian pinched her lips together, nodded once and gathered up the practice sword. She gripped the hilt, looking it over a moment then looked at Duncan.
Fighting fair . . ., she thought. Wasn't what my mother taught me. He's right, I'm not fighting as I should.
Without a word she went to the weapons rack again, tossing the practice sword aside carelessly. From the rack she pulled two of the shorter and lighter practice swords, weighted each one in a hand, nodded in satisfaction, and then strode over to face him again.
Duncan watched her for a moment and then brought around his own practice sword to bare.
The elf hadn't noticed him, but he was certain the Grey Warden was aware of his presence. Aedan had been watching for a few minutes now from the doorway. He hadn't expected anyone to be in the sparring room and approached the door quietly when his ears caught the tell tale signs. Now, curiosity overwrote all other aims and he silently watched.
She was . . . not very impressive. The elf looked awkward with the longsword and seemed to have trouble parrying with it. Duncan disarmed her with ease and didn't even break a sweat. She was a sprout of a soldier facing off against a seasoned war veteran and it showed.
He shook his head in slight wonderment. How could this woman possibly be seen as having Grey Warden potential? Aedan kept this thought until he heard Duncan's words and then looked again at her with the two smaller blades in hand.
Vaughan . . . why is that name familiar? Aedan had no time to ponder it more as he saw Kallian suddenly move.
He had to blink because it seemed to him that she was moving twice as fast as before. She never stood still, constantly circling Duncan in one direction or another. Though none of her blows were landing, Duncan at least had to put some effort in keeping her at bay.
At one point she ducked a wide swing from his blade and moved passed him by ducking and tumbling forward. To Aedan's eyes the wide swing was easy to predict and he didn't doubt it was purposefully made so just to see what she would do. She rolled upright and in a smooth motion brought both shortswords around and thrust them at Duncan's exposed side. However, he was definitely a master swordsman and spun with the swing, simultaneously deflecting the tips of the blades and bringing his exposed side out of reach.
The hit missing its mark seemed to only make her grit her teeth more. What happened next happened in a scant few seconds. She turned her body towards him and stepped forward. Using the side of her arm she braced it against his as his swing was ending. He was hyper extended and slightly off balance. She didn't have the weight to push him over, but that wasn't her intent. Kallian brought the other sword up and aimed right for Duncan's face to slash it across his eyes. With her other arm blocking both of his, it was going to hit its mark.
At the last split second, however, she must have realized what she was about to do and changed the blade's angle, the dull edge of the practice sword only grazed his forehead. Duncan took full advantage. He only had to shift his feet, dip down slightly, and using both his strength and full weight he pushed Kallian with his shoulder. She went flying and landed on her back with an audible thud and a whoosh of air.
Aedan winced. Not in sympathy for Kallian. He was rather quite enjoying the fact that the bitter little wench was getting something of a beating. He winced in remembrance of the sensation of hitting the ground like that. The air would flee from your body in protest and for some seconds you were fairly certain that your lungs had completely forgotten how to breathe. The rasping intake of breath she gave was a definite sign that it was exactly what had happened.
Despite being soundly beat he had to begrudgingly admit that she had some skill. Her fighting style was different from his, but it did look as if she could survive in a stand up fight. Just as long as her opponent wasn't akin to a commander of the Grey Wardens with years of experience under his belt.
Duncan gave something of a sigh and stood up straight. He still hadn't broken a sweat, but he at least was breathing a little heavier.
"Now I need to ask why it was that you hesitated," he placed the tip of the sword on the ground and folded both hands over the pommel. "Had you managed to strike me across the eyes I would have been temporarily stunned or more. You might have even gotten lucky and bested me."
The Warden had to have known that the elf couldn't possibly answer him in that moment. She was still on the ground and rolled to her side to give a couple of rasping coughs.
Duncan continued, "Perhaps you were worried about permanently injuring me, and if so I appreciate the concern. However, I've had worse wounds and have recovered for them. So next time, when I ask you to fight in your truest form, I want to see exactly that. Do not hold back or this will be the end result every time."
Kallian's back was to the door so he didn't see what expression she had, but he did see her head droop. Duncan didn't say more to her, but looked right at Aedan instead.
"Ah, my Lord Aedan," he spoke as if he hadn't known he'd been there the whole time. "Looking to use the sparring room? My apologies if we've gotten in the way."
He saw Kallian visibly tense, then whatever pride she had forced her to get up off the ground. She never turned to look in the direction of the door, and busied herself with knocking the dirt off the padded armor.
Aedan raised a hand, shook his head, and started walking towards a tall barrel in one of the corners, "You've done no such thing. I am just here to grab a practice blade. Do not stop on my account."
Duncan inclined his head, "Thank you, but . . . I think we are quite done for the day."
The elf paused in her dusting for a second then resumed in a more energetic - and likely upset - manner. The act induced a few more coughs. Duncan cast a subtle glance in her direction.
"For now I think I'll be heading to the town proper," as he spoke he went about replacing the practice blade back on the wall. "With your father's soldiers now away it will be easier to see if anyone happens to catch my eye."
As he pulled the much smaller wooden sword out of the barrel he looked over at Duncan, "Do you need someone to help guide you through Highever?"
"That won't be necessary," he said and smiled. "Though the offer is appreciated, I think I can find my way."
"Fair enough," he replied. "Can we expect you for dinner this eve?"
"You most certainly can," he cast another look over in Kallian's direction and spoke more solidly. "We will both be there."
The elf still kept her back to them and said nothing. Her only reaction was to start pulling off the padded armor and stow it away.
Aedan kept his opinion on her being there under wraps. He doubted she'd be seated at the head table with so many other important guests in the castle. So the chances of trying to have a civil conversation with her would be practically non-existent. That was fine by him and was certain it was fine by her.
"I look forward to being able to speak more at length with you, Warden," Aedan said instead.
"As do I," Duncan inclined his head politely again. "If you will excuse me."
Duncan left the room and Aedan's eyebrows immediately furrowed as he looked in her direction. He thought for a few seconds to maybe say something, but she quickly took that option away. Without a word, without a look, without any acknowledgment of his presence, she walked right passed him and out the door.
A frown crested his lips and he murmured under his breath, "Fine by me. Just fine. More important things to tend to."