Thank you to Mary for her beta and to Carrie for her insults :-)

~o~O~o~

When Anders hadn't shown up for the card game at the Hanged Man the night before, Fletcher decided an early start was called for the following day, concerned that the stomach bug doing the rounds in Darktown had worsened. The game hadn't gone on for very long, anyway; Donnic had been on duty and the other participants – Hawke, Fenris, Varric and Sebastian – all had preparations to make before setting out for the Deep Roads.

Upon leaving the pub, and after a visit to a herbalist in Lowtown, Fletcher and Fenris had returned home, where Fletcher had begun crafting some of the stock of potions needed for the expedition. Fletcher and Anders had compiled a list of essential items several weeks earlier, and each mage had steadily worked on his own share. Most of the stock had been moved to the expedition site outside Kirkwall, but some had to be prepared at the last minute as they were made with fresh, organic ingredients. Fletcher - with assistance from Bethany and Fenris – had crafted the required number of potions and unguents plus several more, and had then started on an extra batch of lyrium potions for him and Anders. Only when Fenris had insisted he get some sleep had he stopped.

After breakfast – during which Fletcher resisted the temptation to ask what Bethany had hidden in her room when she and Fenris had returned from their stroll – Fletcher and Fenris left for Darktown to call on Anders, each carrying a sack of various dressings and potions.

"Will you need me to visit the site with you?" Fenris asked once they were underway.

"Well, you don't have to come, but I'd like you to," answered Fletcher. "Why? Is there something else you have to do?"

"No."

They walked on for a while, and Fletcher occasionally glanced at Fenris, as usual gleaning no information from the elf's inscrutable expression. "Everything all right, Fen?" he asked casually.

"Yes, of course." Fenris slowed down and turned toward Fletcher, his eyes narrowing ever-so slightly. "Is…everything well with you?"

Fletcher halted completely, and saw a flicker of uncertainty in Fenris's eyes as he, too, came to a stop. "What's the matter?" asked Fletcher.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, I know you well enough by now," Fletcher said quietly. "Is it because we're going to see Anders?"

"I do not fear Anders," was Fenris's immediate, slightly defensive reply.

Fletcher placed his sack on the ground and sighed. "I know that. But there's something wrong, I can tell. It might make you feel better if you talk about it."

A soft exhalation was heard, and Fenris stared ahead for a moment before shaking his head and walking on. "Pay me no heed. It is foolishness, and nothing more. I will deal with it."

"Wait." Fletcher caught up and clasped Fenris's arm, stopping him. "It's not foolishness if it's making you unhappy. Please tell me. Is it the expedition? Is there something about it you're not looking forward to?"

Fenris's nostrils flared, and Fletcher noticed the elf's free hand clenching at his side. It took several minutes for Fenris to answer, and when he did, his voice was hushed. "I would not want to cause any…problems once we are in the Deep Roads."

"And why would you do that?"

Irritation flashed across Fenris's face, and he shook his head. "Do you not remember what happened at the barracks? When I assaulted my fellow guards? When I was too much of a coward to face them? To face anyone?"

"That wasn't your fault. That-"

"What if it happens again? What if I…if I were to…" Fenris released a shaky breath. "It has been on my mind while I have been boarding at your house. If I were to frighten your mother or sister…if-if I were to lash out at you…"

"I warned Mother and Beth that sometimes your sleep is disturbed, and, if anything happens, they're not to wake you, but to call me. We'll explain that to everyone going on the expedition, as well."

"But would they not think-"

"I couldn't care less what they think," Fletcher replied firmly.

"Nor do I, but I am thinking of you," said Fenris. "You are one of the leaders of the expedition; the workers will look up to you. Their perception of you is of utmost importance. I would not cause you discomfiture…"

"Just stop right there," Fletcher interrupted, taking a moment to quell his anger, which was not directed at Fenris, but rather at the damage Danarius had wrought upon his self-esteem. "Firstly, I don't consider myself to be a leader. Bartrand is in charge of the expedition. True, I've put him straight a few times, because frankly, some of his ideas have been idiotic, but he's in charge.

"Secondly, you won't be alone. Anders is a Grey Warden, and he warned me that once he's underground and can sense darkspawn, he might have a few nightmares of his own.

"Thirdly, if I considered you the slightest bit dangerous, do you really think I'd have invited you into my home, to stay under the same roof as Beth and Mother?"

Fenris looked to the side and sighed.

Fletcher took a step closer to Fenris. "Beneath the wounds that bastard inflicted upon you is one of the gentlest, most humble and unassuming people I've ever met. The fact you feel such guilt and conflict over your actions – which were involuntary, I'll remind you – is an indication of how good - how decent - a man you are." Fletcher moved his hand to Fenris's chin and gently pushed his head up, but Fenris's gaze fell to the ground. "I see the real you, and so do Donnic, Sebastian and all of your friends in the Guard, as well as Mother and Beth. They're the only ones that count, Fenris."

Noticing Fenris's frown, Fletcher paused momentarily before continuing. "You know, I learned a long time ago to care only what my friends and family think, and to the Void with everyone else. Those people – the ones who know you and care about you – are the ones that count, and they accept you. Mother and Beth think the world of you, as do Donnic and Sebastian. As do I. I couldn't imagine Donnic fussing over you as Mother does, though. It might put a dent in his reputation as a burly guard, mightn't it?"

Fenris laughed briefly but didn't smile, and he once again hung his head, only for Fletcher to nudge it back up with his hand.

"I'm going to do something now that will probably embarrass you, but I make no apologies for it," Fletcher said, and, not giving himself time to think, he leaned down and placed a quick peck on the elf's cheek, before drawing back and releasing his chin. Fenris's mouth gaped open, but, to Fletcher's immense relief, he gave no indications of being disturbed or displeased by the gesture.

"I'm proud to be seen with you, and these people," Fletcher waved his hand toward several passers-by, some of whom quickly averted their gaze, "can think what the hell they like. I don't know them, I don't care about them, and they mean nothing to me. Very few of the people going on the expedition mean anything to me. Those that do won't say anything should you have a nightmare. If they do – and I can't imagine they would – they'll get short shrift from me, I can tell you. Now, shall we get going?"

Fletcher picked up his sack and, slinging it over his shoulder, began to walk ahead. He looked back and waited for Fenris to arrive next to him. Both men were quiet on the way to Darktown, but this time, when Fletcher glanced at the elf, the faint smile he wore said more than words ever could.

~o~O~o~

When they reached the clinic, Anders was hard at work cataloguing and sorting through his own creations. Mallory was nowhere to be seen.

"How are things, Anders? Any new cases?" Fletcher asked as they approached, with Fenris falling a short distance behind.

"Hm? No, no new ones," Anders mumbled absently as he placed a few poultices into a bag.

"Well, that's good," replied Fletcher. "Sorry we didn't see you at the Hanged Man last night."

"Oh, I forgot about that." Anders looked up, glanced at Fenris without acknowledging him and then proceeded to place items in the rest of the bags. Fenris moved to stand at Fletcher's side, and they exchanged a fleeting glance while they waited. When Anders had finished, he tied the bags up and walked to the entrance of the clinic. "Wait here; Mallory said she'll give me a hand." He then exited, leaving Fenris and Fletcher alone.

"Well, he's certainly organised, isn't he?" Fletcher asked breezily, hiding the vague sense of unease he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"So it would seem." The distaste in Fenris's voice was obvious, and his expression had once again returned to inscrutable.

"Hey, at least Mallory's coming with us. If Anders is in a snit about something, she can talk to him, and we won't have to."

"That is true," answered Fenris with a small smile.

After waiting for a few minutes, Anders returned with Mallory and walked over to the bags.

"Hello, Hawke," she greeted, and shook Fletcher's hand.

"Hello, Mallory. Are you settling in well? You seem very at home here."

"Yes, I'm really enjoying myself," she answered brightly. "I've become acquainted with most of the people down here and Anders has been great; I've learned a lot from him."

"I know the clinic will be in good hands while I'm gone," Anders piped up, smiling warmly at the small woman.

Fletcher managed to smile, as well, determined not to let Anders's standoffishness bother him. "You haven't met Fenris, have you?" he asked her, and Fenris stepped forward, doffing a polite nod.

"Oh, it's nice to meet you, Fenris," she answered pleasantly. "Are you a friend of Anders and Hawke, then?"

"I will be accompanying them on the expedition."

"I'm sure they're very glad of that," she answered with a glance at his sword, before Anders interrupted.

"Let's get a move on, then," he said briskly, gathering up the large bags. He passed one each to Mallory, Fletcher and Fenris, and he took two. "Is that all you could manage to craft, Hawke? Two bags?" he asked airily.

Fletcher, annoyed that Anders hadn't acknowledged Fenris at all, answered, "As you know, Anders, we were making the lyrium potions. They take a lot longer than poultices, plus, they're heavier."

"All right, Hawke; can't you take a joke?" laughed Anders as he walked past them toward the exit.

"I can, Anders, when it's a funny one." Irritation found its way into his voice, and a small hand touched his arm. Fletcher looked at Fenris, who shook his head.

"Oh dear, someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning," said Anders from up ahead, and Mallory laughed nervously, looking uncomfortable, before she walked ahead to catch up with him.

"As you said, Hawke, the woman can talk to him now," Fenris offered.

"Yes, lucky for me I get you to keep me company," Fletcher grinned with a wink at the elf, not quite succeeding in hiding his annoyance, and as they left the clinic together, Fenris firmly suppressed his own vexation at the abomination.

~o~O~o~

After roughly an hour's walk out of town, they reached the site of the entrance to the Deep Roads that Bartrand had deemed most suitable for their purposes.

"This one?" Anders wondered aloud, pulling a face. "This would have been the last one I'd have chosen."

"Oh? Why's that?" Fletcher asked, concerned.

"Well, it's the nearest one to town, and it goes down deeper than any of the others. After a certain depth, the map ends. If there's anything nasty down there, it could very well be unleashed upon the population of Kirkwall. Not a very smart man, this Bartrand, is he?"

"I won't argue with you there," muttered Fletcher. "All he can see are sovereigns. If we and Varric weren't involved in this expedition, he and all of his workers would have died after a day or two, either from lack of oxygen or from smoke inhalation. And I wouldn't put it past him to stick a knife in the back of anyone who found any of these fabulous riches he's promised us."

"We must keep our wits about us, then," Fenris said darkly.

As they neared the first of the caves, Bartrand's voice could be heard from below the ground. Several workers milled about, running to and fro, and Fletcher, having already met most of them, introduced them to Anders and Fenris.

"Hawke! There y'are!" shouted a deep, gruff voice. They turned in its direction and Fletcher grinned and waved at a very stocky, black-haired dwarf with ruddy cheeks and a beard like a rhododendron bush. After leaving their sacks with the appropriate worker, they walked over to the dwarf, and Fletcher shook his hand.

"Everyone, this is Torbal of House Barakar, possibly the most intelligent man I've ever met. Well, almost," he added with a wink at Fenris, who rolled his eyes. "Torbal and I have been working on the oxygen generators."

"Another sodding mage?" laughed Torbal with a glance at Anders. "Ancestors help us all. And what's this? An elf? You keep eclectic company, Hawke."

"This is Fenris, Anders, and his friend, Mallory," Fletcher told Torbal, clapping a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. He glanced cautiously at Fenris, but was relieved to see that Torbal had not offended him, probably because Torbal had not insulted Fletcher as Bartrand had.

Torbal nodded at Fletcher's companions and then glanced behind them. "And where's that reprobate Varric?"

"Oh, he's spending a bit of time with my sister before we set off," Fletcher answered.

"Spending time, huh?" teased the dwarf. "Is that what you humans call it?"

"Now, now; that's my sister you're talking about," Fletcher said in a slightly stern tone, but he was smiling, and Fenris's eyes darted between them, his muscles tightening, unsure whether they were joking or not.

"Hey, no offence intended," said Torbal, holding his hands up. "I'm not gonna be responsible for another human taking his ball home to mama."

"Another human? What do you mean?" Fletcher asked.

Torbal sighed, his huge, crinkly beard rustling as he shook his head. "That whore-humper Bartrand couldn't organise a piss-up in an alehouse. He's got a real spark in his ass, but there's nothing but tumbleweed bouncing around upstairs. We've already lost five men because they couldn't take the way he spoke to them. They were all humans, you see; like delicate hothouse flowers compared with dwarves."

"Well, that leaves me, Anders and a few of the other humans," Fletcher commented thoughtfully, "but we can stand up to Bartrand, don't you worry."

"And how about you, uh, Fergus? Finbar?"

"Fenris," the elf calmly corrected. "I am already acquainted with Bartrand, and I left him in no doubt as to my opinion of his leadership style."

"Hahaha! I like you, Fenton! And if you keep leaving that son of a bitch in no doubt, I'll go right on liking you!" Torbal then waved his hand toward an area where several animal skins had been staked across the ground and were drying in the sun. "They're almost ready, Hawke; we've been lucky with the weather, and we'll get the skins sewn up by tonight. Got a prototype, if you're interested?"

"If I'm interested? Where? Where? Show me!" Fletcher jumped up and down excitedly and Fenris chuckled quietly at the sight.

Torbal waddled over to a wooden crate and pulled out a large gourd-shaped pouch, fashioned from one of the pieces of dried skin. Attached to it were two straps, as well as a small hose, all of which were made of leather. He passed it to Fletcher, who grinned widely as he examined it.

"Mallory," said Hawke, "as you're not carrying a weapon, would you care to assist me in a demonstration?"

"I'd be happy to," she smiled, stepping forward.

"Thanks, Mallory." Hawke asked her to hold her arms out and he attached the pouch to her front, securing it by tying the straps around her neck and back. "This will be carried on the chest – and the belly, depending on how tall you are - as we'll all be lugging stuff on our backs," he explained to the others. "The pouch will be half-filled with a solution of salt water. Inside is a piece of metal that will be charged with electricity; Anders, that's where you come in. The metal will be in constant contact with the water, and the resulting chemical reaction will produce bubbles that rise to the top of the water and 'pop', thus providing us with oxygen, which can be breathed in using the hose."

"Each charge should last for a couple of hours," Torbal added, "by which time the water will need to be changed, anyway."

"Is this safe?" Fenris asked with a frown. "How strong will the electrical charge be?"

"Strong enough to singe that pretty hair of yours," answered Torbal, "but not strong enough to kill ya. And that would only happen if you're dumb enough to take the thing apart; the metal's contained inside the apparatus."

Fenris tilted his head and nodded as he examined the pouch. "This is very clever. You are to be congratulated," he said to Torbal and Fletcher.

"Very nice," Anders commented.

Fletcher grinned and began to remove the apparatus from Mallory. "It's not our idea; it's just a crude version of Paragon Garius's invention, but it'll do for us. We won't need to start using them until we're a ways in, but it might be a good idea for us to wear them anyway, just to get used to them. While we're in camp, Anders and I will make a large static generator, so none of us have to sleep in these. Both Torbal and I know the precise amounts of salt, sodium bicarbonate and other ingredients that go into the mix. Don't make your own mix; come to us for it. I'll tell you the formula as well, Fenris and Anders, just in case anything happens to me or Torbal."

"So, it is not as simple as mere saline?" asked Fenris.

Fletcher shook his head. "If the balance of salt is off, then chlorine gas might be produced instead of oxygen, and, if you inhaled that, you wouldn't need to worry about oxygen any more. Also, the apparatus isn't to be used around naked flames. We'll explain all of this to everyone before we set off, anyway."

"Let me tell Bartrand," Torbal joked. "I won't forget. Promise."

"Don't tempt me," laughed Fletcher, and he clapped the dwarf's shoulder again. "Do you need anything?"

"Nah, I got what I need."

"I'm on my way to talk to Bartrand. Any concerns?" asked Fletcher. "I won't say they came from you."

"Tell that bastard I'm concerned that a knuckle-scraping, shit-for-brains, asshole-caste dwarf is heading up the expedition, if you like, and feel free to tell him it came from me. I told him something along those lines only half an hour ago, anyway, but I've toned down what I actually said for the benefit of the lady," Torbal said with a nod at Mallory.

"A polite dwarf? Whatever next? A Qunari jester?" Fletcher joked.

"Hey, I'm only polite once a month, and I just used up my quota, so watch it, Human," warned Torbal, his fat cheeks reddening further as he grinned. "Now, get outta here. I got work to do." He offered his chubby hand to Anders and Fenris, who shook it, and he bowed to Mallory. "Hey, Hawke, ignore that stuff I said about your sister; I didn't mean nothing by it. I'm sure she's a nice girl. Maybe needs her eyes examining, but that ain't her fault."

"No worries. Keep smiling, Torbal. See you soon." Fletcher shook his hand again and led his companions in the direction of Bartrand's voice.

"We're going to see your friend, Fenris. Think you can behave yourself?" Fletcher teased.

Fenris glanced sidelong at Fletcher and quirked an eyebrow. "I promise nothing."

As the elf's eyes left him, Fletcher's stomach flipped over; it had been a while since Fenris had looked at him like that. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Good," was all he could manage in reply.

"Actually, it would be better if I remained above ground with the woman," Fenris said quietly. "Bartrand is rather uncouth, and she should not be exposed to that."

"She didn't seem bothered by what Torbal was saying," Fletcher reasoned.

"That is true, but he was at least moderately respectful toward her. Should Bartrand insult her, he may find himself divested of more than a few strands of hair."

"And what if he insults Anders?"

"Anders is a grown man who can fight his own battles."

"Right, we're all going to see Bartrand," Fletcher announced loudly, sniggering as Fenris's eyebrow crept up. "Don't worry, Fenris," he whispered, "I doubt even Bartrand would be stupid enough to try anything with you around. I just want to see the look on his face when he sets eyes on you again. And I've missed Bill. I think he should be introduced to Bartrand as well."

"Perhaps you should name my sword as well?" Fenris suggested, "As it is just as likely he will be introduced to that."

"I'm sorry, Fenris; I don't think I'm well enough acquainted with your sword for first names, yet," Fletcher sniffed.

Fenris shook his head, his mouth twisting to hide a smile as Fletcher chortled beside him. "That can be rectified quite easily, Hawke."

"I'll take the lead!" Fletcher hastened his steps, overtaking Anders and Mallory, occasionally shooting a cheeky glance back at Fenris. When they reached the mouth of the cave, Fletcher held his hand up and stopped, listening.

"What is that bloody racket?" Anders demanded, placing his hands over his ears.

"It sounds like someone's being murdered!" exclaimed Mallory at the ear-splitting squeals coming from within the cave.

Fenris unsheathed his sword and moved over to the cave mouth. "Remain here," he ordered Mallory, before he entered, followed by the two mages.

They cautiously picked their way along toward a source of light they could see ahead; the high-pitched screeching seemed to be coming from there. Walking behind Fenris, Anders and Fletcher readied their staves. "Anything, Anders?" Fletcher asked.

"It's not darkspawn," he answered confidently.

As they neared the lit chamber, all three men paused, finding it hard to concentrate due to the assault on their ears. Amidst the din, Bartrand's voice could be heard, yelling expletives. "No magic unless it's absolutely necessary," Fletcher shouted at Anders, thinking of Fenris, as they entered the chamber. "…What in the blazes?"

As one, Fletcher, Fenris and Anders's mouths dropped open at the sight that met them: Bartrand, plus several of his workers, were chasing around after numerous small, squealing creatures that resembled a cross between a pig and a mole. Again and again, the creatures evaded the men's clutches, and Fletcher didn't even bother to hide his laugh when Bartrand fell flat on his face. They could quite happily have watched such a farcical sight all day, but, as their ears were starting to hurt, Fletcher decided that swift action was warranted.

"Outside, Fenris; I'm going to cast," he said quickly, holding his staff aloft.

Fenris shook his head. "I will stay. Be quick."

With a sigh, Fletcher recited a basic paralysis spell, not bothering to refine the sphere of the spell as he wanted Fenris's discomfort to be as brief as possible.

In an instant, everyone inside the chamber – Bartrand included – froze, and mercifully the clamour stopped; the only sound that could be heard was Fenris's heavy breathing. Anders walked ahead to examine the strange creatures while Fletcher tentatively placed a hand on the elf's back. "Are you all right? I'm sorry. Are you in pain?"

Fenris shook his head and steadied himself against the cave wall. "I will be fine. Thank you for your concern."

"Are you sure?" Fletcher suddenly became aware that he'd been instinctively stroking Fenris's back, and stilled his hand, but did not remove it. Fenris raised his head and gave a pained smile.

"I am sure. Please, do not worry over it. I will have to live with it; your powers will be called upon many times during the expedition."

"No." Fletcher shook his head emphatically. "You're not going to live with it. If I ask you to step out again, please do as I say. I'm not trying to order you around or anything, but I hate to see you in pain. Please, Fenris; I'm asking you."

Fletcher removed his hand from Fenris's back, watching as the elf leaned against the wall and folded his arms, sighing. "Very well. As I hate to see you worry, I will do as you say. I will not step out, however, if our lives are in danger. No arguments."

"Well, I can see us having a big argument if I asked you to do that. Fair enough; you have a deal." Fletcher offered his hand to the elf, and Fenris shook it, but Fletcher did not release it immediately. Fenris's eyes moved up to meet his, and for a moment, neither spoke. Fletcher's stomach flipped again, and he completely forgot they had company. "Fenris, I…"

The elf's eyes moved toward Anders, who was crouching over one of the creatures, watching them. "When you two have finished, I think I know what these animals are," Anders called over.

A jolt of irritation shot through Fletcher at the interruption, but if Fenris felt the same, he gave no sign. They walked over to Anders, who had awoken one of the creatures, which chirped quietly as he scratched behind its ears.

"This is a nug, I'm certain of it," Anders told them. "Oghren, someone I used to know, raved about them. The dwarves love them, to eat, I mean. Some people even keep them as pets, but dwarves find such an idea laughable." Anders glanced around the chamber, counting no less than twenty eight of them. "Looks like someone didn't keep the males and females apart; they breed like there's no tomorrow."

"A piss-up in an alehouse, indeed," Fletcher said crabbily, walking over to Bartrand and placing a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, none too gently.

With the spell reversed, Bartrand blinked and a scowl immediately formed. "You took your sodding time, Partner!" he seethed, slapping Fletcher's hand away. "You go and check on the vittles before you check on me? That's all kinds of crazy! I guess I shouldn't expect any less from a limp-wristed mage!"

Anders and Fenris walked over to them, and Bartrand glowered at the sight of another mage, but avoided Fenris's gaze completely.

"We meet again," Fenris hissed menacingly, and Bartrand took a step back before stomping away from them.

"Where's that fucking Nug Wrangler?" he yelled, before pointing at one of the frozen men. "Mage! Get over here and wake him up!"

"Please don't tell me this is the leader of the expedition," Anders groaned. "Is this sort of thing going to happen often? Can't you step in and take charge, Hawke?"

"That's a tempting idea, Anders, but I won't do anything like that without speaking to Varric; I wouldn't want to embarrass him. Come on, give me a hand." They went over to the frozen workers and reversed Fletcher's spell by touching them. After giving the men a moment to collect themselves, Fletcher asked them to round up the paralysed nugs, this time keeping the males and females separate. He then turned his attention to Bartrand.

"Has the safety equipment been installed in the main shaft, yet? The lighting? Or have you been too busy chasing after pigs?"

"Nugs," Anders corrected.

"Whatever. Well, Bartrand? You're already two days behind schedule, from what Varric told me."

"Varric isn't down here doing all the donkey work, and neither are you," Bartrand accused. "While you're all mincing around up on the surface, we're the ones breaking our sodding backs down here. You have no idea of what's going on."

"Tell me, then," Fletcher said in a reasonable tone. "Why are you behind? Do you need any help?"

"It's a little late in the day to be offering help, isn't it?" Bartrand barked, and Fenris, feeling his ire rising, drew a steadying breath. "Cram it, Mage. It's not your concern."

Feeling a movement to his left, Fletcher held his arm out to stop Fenris from advancing. "It's very much my concern, Dwarf. I've put a lot of my hard-earned money into this venture, and these two men," he added, gesturing at Anders and Fenris, "helped me earn it. I want that safety equipment installed now. And I understand you've driven five men away. Have they been replaced?"

"Who told you that? Was it that fat bastard Torbal?"

"Never you mind who told me!" Fletcher snapped. "Have they been replaced or not?"

"I'll replace them when I get a fucking chance!" Bartrand bit back. "You want safety equipment put in. You want nugs rounded up. You want men replaced. Are you gonna get your hands dirty down here, Precious? I doubt it!" Bartrand grabbed one of Fletcher's hands and examined his palm. "Just as I thought! You've never done an honest day's work in your life!"

"I'll have you know I'm a farmer's son!" Fletcher bristled, snatching his hand back. "Don't try and tell me I know nothing of hard work. And it was never part of the deal that Varric or I helped set up the equipment; in fact, you told us we'd only hold you up."

"A farmer's son? Well, your daddy must be even more of a shiftless fucker than you are," retorted Bartrand. Fenris, who could feel Fletcher trembling next to him, pushed in front of the dwarf.

"I find your tone, and attitude, highly irritating," he snarled, and Bartrand's sneering countenance quickly melted away, giving way to ambiguity. "You will do as he directs, if you know what is good for you."

Bartrand held Fenris's murderous gaze for a second, but quickly looked away, an odd growling sound coming from his throat. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm not gonna get anything done if I'm standing here, talking to you, am I? Now get out of my hair!"

"I want that equipment in place by tonight, Bartrand," Fletcher commanded. "Everyone's ready to leave tomorrow."

"But we'll have to work through the night!"

"Then you'll work through the night. I don't want to hear any more excuses; you've had plenty of time and money to get this done. I'll find the extra five workers; I know plenty of strong men who want to earn some money."

"Yeah, I bet you do," Bartrand answered caustically, the rest of his reply dying with another withering glare from Fenris. "Go on then, sod off, the lot of you. I've got a fucking night to work through. Hope you all sleep well in your nice, comfy beds."

They watched him stomp off, and Fletcher helped corral the last couple of nugs. When the workers had departed, he stood on the spot, his head falling back as he groaned.

"You're going to have to do something about him, Hawke," Anders said tightly. "The only thing I'd trust him to lead us to is our deaths. I'm going to check on Mallory." With that, he walked toward the cave entrance and disappeared around a bend.

Fletcher could hear Fenris's quiet footfalls as the elf moved to his side, and both of them stood together in contemplation for a while. Fletcher then heard a sigh, and Fenris softly cleared his throat.

"I hope you did not take…exception to my intervention," the elf said quietly. "I did not mean to overstep…"

"Fenris, it's a good job you did intervene," laughed Fletcher humourlessly. "I think Bartrand is one of those dwarves who doesn't have much respect for mages. Especially bent ones."

"Bent?"

"Yes, you know, with a preference for men." He shook his head dejectedly, and noticed Fenris folding his arms from the corner of his eye.

"Your status as a mage is irrelevant," Fenris insisted angrily. "You should be the one leading the expedition, not him. Not all mages are corrupt or untrustworthy. He would do well to remember that."

All troubling thoughts of Bartrand and the expedition fled from Fletcher's mind as he turned toward the elf, wearing a hesitant smile. "Fenris…do you realise what you just said?"

Fenris took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Yes. I do. Now, let us return to the surface." He walked away from Fletcher, pausing as he reached the entrance to look back. "Are you coming?"

"Fenris?" Fletcher moved over to him, stopping at his side. "Would you like to take lunch with me? Just the two of us? I suspect that you appreciate peace and quiet as much as I do. Maybe we should get as much of it as possible, while we still can."

"Peace and quiet," Fenris repeated softly. "You are correct; there will not be much of it once we are down here. Have you anywhere in mind?"

"How about at the foot of the Vhenadahl? We can head home, pinch a bit of food and then go to the Alienage. It should be quiet there today, as there's no market. Although…we might have to fend off Merrill."

"After Bartrand, Merrill would be a soothing balm to my ears," replied Fenris wryly.

"Is that a yes?"

Fenris smiled, nodded once and led the way up to the surface, with a beaming Fletcher not far behind.