As promised, let's have another dose of filler. I mean fun. Fun filler. Filler fun? AaaaNnny Waaay, I'm just tying up a few loose ends before we get down to brass tacks.
MasterAssassinScrolls (or MAS as I shall now call you. Accept it, and we shall be friends. Do not, and incur the Wrath of Sparrow): Thank you very much for the praise, it really means a lot. I do my best to try to get across Sparrow's mood and just like me he's a whimsical guy. He can go from the depths of depression to the heights of elation in just a few short sentences, as I like to think all people can be. And you know, faced with everything he has to go through, I think it's important to keep a smile on his face. As Joss Whedon said, "Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke."
It's Tamarel, and I totally didn't steal it from the wiki and it's like 110% original so get with the program! And your questions will be raised in the following chapter...
Ioialoha: This isn't the first time I've had to double check I got your ID right... But I'm kinda torn about that because on one hand, I know what's going to happen. On the other... Five years, well four now, is a lot of writing, even with just the arcs I have in mind and maybe the occasional chapter in between... I dunno, I'm writing out the arcs now, so I may as well just keep doing that. But if anyone disagrees please let me know, I'm all about the fans man. This isn't just MY Dragon Age, it's YOURS. Like the games, you have a say in how it plays out.
The Invisible Pretender: Glad that you're liking what you see, I'll do my best to keep your interest :D
And of course, Snowy: One day you'll write a review and I won't smile. But it is not this day. As always, thank you for the lovely words.
And too all of you followers and favouriters and browsers and glancers... Thanks for taking an interest, I hope I'm entertaining you.
Anyway, enough of that. Sparrow has become a Warden and has to come to grips with the changes inside and out. Meanwhile, he has to finish his business in Denerim before he and Duncan leave to find the wicked Witch of the Wilds...
Chapter15: Tis Better to have Loved...
"Would you stop playing with it?" Duncan asks harshly. I look at him with venom.
"It's a big fucking adjustment okay?" I respond angrily. Old man doesn't understand my pain. I mean... Ugh, why did this happen?!
"It's just a haircut," he says in exasperation, though I hear a trace of laughter in his voice. My mouth opens and I glare at him. I could kill him right now.
"You are a peculiar person," Oakvale whispers hesitantly. You shut your filthy whore mouth! I mean, you're god damn right, but still!
"Just a-. I haven't had hair this short since I was fucking ten!" I shout at the Commander of th Grey, desperately wanting to kick seven shades of shit out of him. "I liked my long hair, it was nice and I had awesome curls, it was like Loki, or Sam Winchester. Women dreamt of my mane, they used my luscious locks in lovemaking. What the fuck is this?" I say, brushing my hand over my near bald scalp.
For some strange reason, every so often the Joining ritual can cause physical changes in a Warden. A bit taller, bit stronger. And in my case, it causes all your hair to fall out. Everywhere.
Oh god. I'm itchy. And cold.
But, like, really fucking smooth?
That's... new. And weird, not what I'm used to on myself. It was more the ladies that were hairless, a fashion or something... Ahem.
"It's only temporary," Duncan says solemnly but I can see the laughter in his eyes. "To become a Grey Warden is to leave your old life behind, to be born again. Some more literally than others."
"That's another thing, if you guys fucking baptised me I'm gonna crucify you," I growl dangerously. Duncan looks at me with an arched eyebrow before laughing. I scowl as we continue along the road.
"You say the most peculiar things," he observes, obviously channelling Sherlock fucking Holmes. "I do not see why you are so angered by this Sparrow, it's been nearly a week," Duncan chuckles. I scrunch up my face to look at him.
"Because I'm freaking hairless! I mean, one: I'm hairless everywhere! Two, it's just weird, the kinda thing I'd expect if I fell asleep first at a party, but a fucking lot more extreme. And three, I'm fucking freezing my ass off day and night and can't help but think I would've been warmer if I had some fur." I stop and turn to him, raising a threatening finger. "And four, the worst offence: I lost my fucking beard!"
Duncan looks at me before turning away and laughing hysterically. I growl and move forward ahead of the old bastard.
This sure as hell wasn't in the wiki.
So yeah, I survived the joining. Woot woot. Fair chuffed about that, what with still breathing and all. Bummed about my hair, but I guess it'll grow back...
Duncan wasn't wrong, it takes a while to adjust after the Joining. The ritual itself... it's hard to explain. Everything's burning, but you're ice cold. You have no idea what's happening, but you understand everything. The world is flipped completely. So kinda like being drunk, but a lot more intense.
And then you wake up and you feel fine. And then the next day it's like you've been giving the beating of your life. And then you notice the changes.
I can see things far away. I don't mean like blurry as it gets further, I can make out peoples freckles from a hundred yards. I never had eye problems back home, but this new vision makes me feel like I was walking blind my whole life. I can hear birds chirping a mile away. And I can sense something as well. A massive blackness, an all consuming darkness that just feels... wrong. Close by. I wasn't sure what it was so I asked Duncan, and then nearly smacked myself for not realising. I can sense the Taint now. I can even sense it in other Wardens, i.e Duncan, who's rarely left my side since the Joining, along with the others.
Muscles, that were visible when tensed are suddenly clearly defined. I'm ripped like Wolverine now and have the strength to match! My magic... is a lot more powerful. I tried to light a candle in the Barracks, nearly blew up Tamarel. My stamina... is out of this world. Me and Duncan, while wearing our light armours and packs of the things we'll need for months in the Wilds for practise, were able to run nearly 8 leagues in a day, only stopping to eat or relieve ourselves! That was just so I could stretch these new muscles that Taint has given me, Duncan has said that he wishes to conserve his energy and we probably wouldn't move that quick.
And on top of all that, I was given official Grey Warden Armour before we left. I think it would be classed as the Rogue set. It has a cuirass and faulds (which is kinda like an metal kilt without a metallic front), but that's the only metal apart from the griffon styled spaulder on my left shoulder. The gantlets and greaves are both dark brown leather, but while hard and strong, manoeuvrable and light. The rest is fabric and clothes in the Wardens colours, blue and white. It even has a hood, which I'm thankful for when the rain begins to hit my bald head. I'd forgotten what it was like, and I shudder every time at the feeling of water running along my baby fresh skin.
Every since the Joining... It's been a lot to take in. My body is a stranger to me now. I'm a completely different person, internally and externally. I doubt I'd recognise myself and while that frightened me at first now that I've had some time to adjust... it's a lot more useful. I can push myself a lot further, a lot faster. I'm a hell of a lot stronger, and my body is practically superhuman.
No wonder these guys can take down Archdemons...
While Duncan attends to some business of his own, I roam the marketplace and come upon Cesar. I have to stop myself from showing emotion to the Crow scum, mostly because I have business.
"Cesar, mi amico," I say with a smile. He looks up at me and frowns for a second.
"Senor Sparrow," he says, and I can hear some shock in his words. "Forgive me, I hardly recognised you. I had heard you had been killed!"
Of course you did you assassin piece of- "I had a haircut. And what can I say, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," I say with a small smirk. "Anyway, how's that crossbow coming along? We agreed that after the freeze you'd have it ready for me, no?"
Cesar looks panicked and I have to stop the grin tearing my face in half. I'd suspected this kind of reaction. No doubt he expected me dead so he hadn't bothered with the crossbow I commissioned when I was first in Denerim.
Don't get me wrong, I'm an alright shot with a bow, but I'm no Robin Hood. And I guess a crossbow just feels like a better fit for me. And you know, being a Hero and all, I feel it's important to develop my Skill.
"Si, si, there has been..." he struggles to create an excuse and I just watch him flounder. "A problem acquiring all the materials. What with the winter, most of my caravans have been delayed. They arrived only a few days ago, and your crossbow should not be ready until the end of the week. Is this satisfactory messere?" he asks somewhat nervously. I stare at him for a second.
I'm not sure Cesar's a murderer. No guts. Though he might just be an exceptional actor. Regardless, he plays the part of timid shopkeeper excellently. I lean in close and lower my voice.
"I paid for this weapon in advance messere, with the agreement that you would slave over it all winter if needs must. That was our agreement. And here you are, telling me to wait? I will give you four days. If I do not possess what is mine by the fourth day, well..." I leave my words hanging and Cesar gulps. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
While I never really picked intimidate options, they seem to work a treat!
"Yes messere. Fourdays. You have my word," Cesar says, bobbing his head quickly.
"I don't want your word, I want your steel. You better not disappoint me Cesar." I growl before marching away. I can't help but imagine what a bad ass I look with my Grey Warden armour, my two swords at my back, another at my waist opposite a dagger and my brunette mane blowing in the w-.
Oh yeah, I think as I rub my head and feel the bristles. Bastards.
"Sparrow," Darrien shouts happily as he notices me leaning against the vhenadahl, the tree of the people. I love the Elvish tree, not just because it stand tall and proud, despite being surrounded by squalor, but in my mind it's the perfect metaphor for the Elves themselves. Surrounded by adverity, they'll stand with a straight back and a head held high. I like that image.
I push myself off it and me and Darrien high five as he draws near. I don't know if that was a thing before I got here, but I like to think I'm the inventor of high fives. If that's the only thing they put on my gravestone, I'll be cool with that.
"Hey D, hows it going mate?" I ask with a genuine smile as I throw him an apple, which is kinda my calling card. This is the first time I've seen Darrien since his mum tried to kill me. He looks good, a lot less skinny than we first met all those months ago. Adaia must be putting that money to use. Good.
"Everything is well Sparrow," he smiles as he looks back to his friends, who seem to playing hide and seek, or something like it... Or maybe it's freeze tag... Or maybe they're just all running around. "I see you wear the armour of the Grey," he observes with a small smile.
"Yeah, had my induction and everything. I am now a fully certified member of the Grey Wardens," I say with a proud smile. It does feel good, to have acomplished this.
"So what are you doing here, oh high and mighty one?" Darrien asks with a smile after clapping me on the shoulder. I smirk as I put him in a headlock and give him a noogie. He reminds me of my little brother, in a strange way. Nothing alike physically, but in spirit.
"I'm just checking on my little buddy," I laugh as he desperately tries to get away. I let him go after a few seconds and he punches me on the arm. I laugh loudly as Darrien smiles, embarrassed.
"I'm fine," he blushes and I smile back at him. Two more elf children walk over to us. One is a girl, with red hair an a scowl etched onto her face. The other is a boy with shorter hair of a similar colour, and he seems less annoyed at my presence.
"Darrien, what's a shemlen doing here," the girl says distastefully and I raise an eyebrow. I always forget that racism goes both ways.
"Peace Shianni, this is Sparrow," Darrien introduces us and I internally grimace. Yeah, her opinion of shemlen is not going to improve in the future, with good reason. "Sparrow, these are my cousins, Soris and Shianni."
"Pleasure to meet you both," I say courteously with a nod of my head. Shianni scowls but Soris' face brightens.
"The Sparrow that bought you and your mum a whole hog?" he asks, mouth wide. I blush furiously and send a glance to Darrien, who smiles at my discomfort. I nod with an embarrassed smile. "Whoa..." Soris says is awe.
Okay, I may be slightly egotistical, cough cough, but the way this kid is looking at me is making me genuinely uncomfortable. I much prefer Shianni's response, filled with loathing.
"Yes well, I better be off," I mumble as I turn to Darrien. "I'll catch you later, keep out of trouble you three," I say sarcastically.
"We always do," Darrien says as he throws his arms over his cousins, a huge grin on his face as Soris continues his stare of awe and Shianni glares at me while taking covert glances at the apple dangling in front of her face. And I just get a flash of what life holds for them.
Raped. Killed. Imprisoned.
"Yeah, see that you do," I say quietly as I turn away.
Okay, this is something I need to talk to Duncan around. It's a big issue that I wanted to approach closer to the time it was relevant but since my own Joining...
The Origins.
In the game, just because you picked an origin, doesn't mean the others stopped existing. Say you played as Darrien, City Elf. The Noble Cousland family would still be destroyed by Arl Howe. The Dalish Tabris would still contract the Taint. They're all out there, somewhere...
I can save them. I know how they die, I know roughly when. But I don't know if I can save all of them. I mean, there's the dwarves in Orzammar, the Circle mage, the Dalish elf, Noble and Darrien... Six lives. Six possibilities. And a lot of ground in between.
All of them can end the Blight. At least, they're supposed to. But their not just some interactive stories any more, with coded personalities and set difficulties, they're real people. With real lives, real hopes and fears, real families...
They actually matter.
And I know exactly how they're all die.
The Noble Dwarf is killed in the Deep Roads after the death of their brother...
One day, the Commoner Dwarf stops eating and dies in their cell...
Killed by the Taint, the Dalish Elf suffers from the foolishness of another...
The Circle Mage is betrayed by a friend and executed by Templars...
Cousland is betrayed by an ally and has to watch his family torn apart by those they trusted...
And Darrien... Killed in pursuit of justice for his bride...
How can I let them all die? I mean, it's not like I really need them. Not really. I know what to do. When to zig and when to zag. What I need to save the world. I'm getting stronger every day, more powerful. But I can't just leave them to their fates. It's just not... right.
But how do I choose? They're scattered all over Ferelden and I wouldn't have a lot of time to gather them. How am I supposed to save them all? Is it even possible? And even if I do, what will that do to canon? Six Wardens? Plus me? And then there's the Wardens we have that I know nothing about, and Duncan...
My mind is telling me to just stay the course. Don't make any more waves, just go with the flow and whatever happens happens. Maybe a few die of my inactions, but my knowledge of the game doesn't become useless, which could get even more killed. But my heart wants me to do everything in my power to help them. I... want to help them. It's never been in my nature to leave anyone behind.
So many questions, so many doubts...
Can I even talk to Duncan about all of this? Could he understand? And what will he think? Will he ask about his own future? What happens to him at Ostagar? Or what happens to the Wardens as they are? Tamarel, Elvha, Kaiden, Gregor, Kherek, Serrana... I have no knowledge of them. I have no idea who they are...
My eyes narrow and my face sets. I've been with the Wardens for months, and I couldn't tell you a damn thing about them apart from their names and class.
Time to change that.
I stride into the barracks and find Serana sat by herself with a book. This causes me to pause, as I've only ever seen her with Kherek or outside. Even barely knowing her, she seems the loner type.
"It's rude to stare," she says plainly in her soft accented voice. French, or Orlesian, I guess.
"Yeah, sorry about that," I blush as I avert my gaze. I look around and see the fire is glowing brightly with embers. I get a blast of heat as I move across and put the tea pot over the fire. Speaking of which... "Where is everyone?" I ask Serana, who briefly glances at me over her book.
"It's finally spring, and the Ferelden's want to enjoy what little sun they get," she says dismissively. My eyes narrow momentarily as the kettle begins to boil. I pour myself a cup of tea and pause.
"Would you like one?" I ask the Orlesian. She looks at me with narrowed eyes before slowly nodding. I pour her another cup and throw a few logs into the fire so it doesn't go out. Elvha always complains of aches in her bones when it's cold so we usually keep the fire going, even if it is a lovely day.
I sit down and sigh, passing Serana her cup as she murmurs her thanks. "Shame there's no milk and sugar," I say mournfully as I look into the brown coloured liquid, with bits swirling within. Seranna looks at me and cocks her head.
"Sugar?" she says slowly, as though she was unused to the word. I realise, probably because of the accent English is not her first language.
"Oh um, let me think... Sucre et lait?" I ask unsurely, hoping French will work. It apparently does as Serana nods emphatically.
"Parlez-vous Orlais?" she asks in surprise, excited. I smile with satisfaction, thanking all those years the school forced me to take French as my second language
"Oui," I say shaking my hand in a so-so motion. "A little."
She looks at me with a laugh. "I have lived in Ferelden for years and you are the first I have met that speaks the Empress' tongue," she smiles and I mimic her. Usually Serana is so... dour faced, I'm sure this is the first time I've seen her smile genuinely.
"Really," I ask in surprise. "Wasn't Ferelden a part of the Empire way back? Surely someone can speak Orlesian."
She chuckles, and but this time it's somewhat bitter. "It is my understanding that no-one speaks my language because Ferelden was a part of the Empire," she says with raised brows, as though letting me in on a conspiracy. "No doubt they wish to forget such things."
"Hmm," I hum under the breath. "I guess I understand."
"How so?" Serana asks, and I blink. Since when has someone actually asked me shit and expected an answer. NPC's have too many lines here.
"Well, back home in my country-" I start unsurely.
"Starkhaven?" Serana asks cockily. I grin at the interruption, as it gives me time to get my story straight.
"Ah, no, I'm from a bit further away," I say laughingly.
"Where?" she asks, and her face is blank, but there's a twinkling in her eyes. I laugh nervously and look to my tea.
"Oh, someplace you wouldn't have heard of," I try to laugh it off as I take a sip.
"I studied geography as part of my chevalier training," she says, her eyes narrowing. "You're not from the Anderfels are you?"
I cock my head and frown at her. "What's wrong with the Anderfels?" I ask curiously, and Serana's face curls distastefully.
"Bah, the hot deserts do not agree with me, neither do the sand rats that live there," she says with a shake of her head as she takes a sip of her tea.
"No, I'm not from the Anderfels," I say in confusion before taking a gulp of tea, and to be truthful I'm glad. Desert? No thanks, give me a cold wet day any day. I doubt I'd survive in the desert.
"So where are you from?" she asks, and I nearly wince at her attentiveness. No-one else, not in a year, has bothered to ask me that. Truth be told, I don't have an excuse ready made.
"Um... Kirkwall, originally," I say slowly, thinking back to my place of origin in Thedas. I frown as a beam of light that suddenly streams through the window, warming my front and burning my face. Though that could just be my nerves. My face begins to prickle with sweat as I blink away the light. "But I've never stayed in one place too long. Where are you from?" I ask in an attempt to divert her. Her eyes narrow.
"Val Royeaux," Serana responds cooly. I keep my wince from showing. What is her problem? Lot's of people don't like to talk about their pasts, and theirs aren't as twisted as mine. "What brought you to Ferelden?" she asks, keeping a close watch on me. The expression falls from my face as I replace it with a blank mask.
Something tells me that going around and saying I'm from an alternate universe where the world of Thedas is just a videogame won't work out well for me. If that even is what's going on!
"Circumstance. And you?" I ask quickly, hoping to regain the conversation. "It's not often you see an Orlesian around these parts."
"Circumstance," she answers and I purse my lips. Okay, she's pissed at me. Just because I don't want to talk about my past? Seems a bit... extreme. Not thinking that I'll get much more from my Orlesian comrade, I finish the last of my tea and rise to my feet.
"You'll have to tell me more about it another time then," I say with a small smile as she glances at me coldly, before returning to her book. I watch her for a few seconds and when she shows no more interest, I walk away.
Despite her cool demeanour, Serana has shown me a great problem in my web of lies. Where did I come from? Any learned individual would surely see right through any lies of mine, especially seeing as how I don't really know anywhere in Thedas apart from Kirkwall and Ferelden.
When I was with Isabella's crew, sure, I'd made port in several different countries. But I've never actually experienced most of them. I was quite content just to stay near the docks or onboard the ship.
Too shy, I suppose. Too scared that they'd leave port without me as well.
What's wrong with saying I come from Kirkwall, or Ferelden? I'm familiar with these places. But where? Maybe one of the small villages? Why did I leave? Where's my family? What made me make the choices I've made?
It's going to be difficult to fabricate an entire life story...
I walk out into the courtyard to find Elvha sitting meditating. I stand to the side, knowing she hates to be disturbed when she's like this.
"What can I do for you Sparrow?" she asks without turning around. I smirk and I stride forward, planting myself down gently next to her.
"Conversation, if you're in the mood for it," I say with a smile as I straighten my back and place my hands on my knees. I close my eyes and try to relax.
"Conversation about what?" she asks calmly, the vision of serenity. Then again, she has at least forty years on me, it would go to show she's better at this. "Are you having more difficulty with your magic?"
"No, it's coming along great. I've been able to cast without tapping into my emotions. Just conversation. Duncan and I are leaving soon, and I wanted to get to know you guys and gals a little better," I say with a shrug. I concentrate on my breathing, breathing in for three seconds and out for three.
"Where are you going?" she asks curiously. As the most senior Grey Warden - in years - it's hardly a surprise that she can be a bit nosey. Ahh, reminds me of the grannies back home.
"Oh, I want to travel south to meet with an old friend of mine, Hawke," I say quietly. To be honest, I'm not exactly lying. I do really want to meet the Hawke's of Lothering, even if it is just in passing. I'm curious to see just how they've really developed, as people.
"Malcolm?" Elvha asks in shock and my brow furrows. Was that Hawke's name? I thought it was Garrett, or Marian...
Oh wait, wasn't Malcolm his dad. Ohhhh.
"How do you know Malcolm?" I ask curiously. I open my eyes to see Elvha looking at me with frightening intensity.
"We've had dealings in the past," she says shadily, but I brush it off. Malcolm was connected to the Grey Wardens because he helped bind Corypheus. At a guess, I'd say Elvha was a part of the group. And that wasn't exactly an adventure to tell the grandkids about.
"Fair enough," I say impassively, already knowing what their business was likely to be and not wishing to dredge up things I don't have to. "And then after we meet with Hawke in Lothering, Duncan and I are travelling to Ostagar," I say with a small nod. I don't want to tell everyone we're off to see the Witch of the Wilds. Ostagar is close enough. And when she asks about Ostagar, mention the old Grey Warden treaties.
"Yes, well, very good." Elvha says impatiently as she rises to her feet. "Best of luck in your travels," she calls over her shoulder as she rushes into the Barracks. What the hell was that about?
She ran out of here like she was about to lay an egg!
I don't know, maybe her memories of Malcolm aren't the greatest, what with a being like Corypheus involved. Yeah, that's probably it. I should give her some space for now.
I lie back onto the grass and enjoy the cool earth and the warm rays. It's still cool, but I always preferred the cold. Don't get me wrong, everyone in Scotland gets excited about the sun. But when it's cold, you can move about or do something to warm up. When it's hot... well, you can only take off so many clothes before it's a felony. But, the first few days are always nice.
"What are you lazing around here for?" a voice calls over to me. I open my eyes and blink away the sunspots as Kaiden and Grigor come into focus.
"Enjoying the weather," I say cheerfully as the two brothers sit nearby me. Kaidan snorts and spits to the side and my mouth curls in distaste.
Mama always told me never to spit in polite company. Then again, I wouldn't consider a band of Wardens "polite company".
"Bah," Grigor starts as he strokes his well groomed mustache. "Ferelden isn't supposed to be warm like this, especially in the Spring! Reminds me of Rivain," the elder Rogue growls in annyance. I arch an eyebrow.
"You've been to Rivain?" I ask out of curiosity. Mind you, their skin always did remind me of Isabella's.
The brothers laugh and my mouth curls in a smile. "Been there? Maker's breath Sparrow, we were born there!" Kaiden laughs. I let out a hum of curiosity.
"Is there anyone here who's actually from Ferelden?" I ask quietly. Serana's Orlesian, I remember Elvha mentioning something about Kirkwall, Kherek's a dwarf so at most he was probably born under Ferelden and the Brothers are from Rivain?
Don't get me wrong, nothing wrong with some diversity. But is anyone actually batting for the home team here?
"Well," Grigor starts as he looks ahead, frowning. "The Commander is Ferelden-"
"Fereldan?" Kaiden interrupts in confusion. "I thought he was Rivaini like us?"
"Is he?" Grigor says in surprise. I purse my lips. This is why I usually talk to the brothers one at a time. "I thought he was from Highever!"
"No," Kaiden says shaking his head in doubt. "I'm sure he's mentioned it before."
"When?"
"Oh, ages ago..."
"Hey," I say loudly, drawing their attention back to me. When that fails, I put my fingers between my ips and whistle, and they both look at me with confusion. Thank you Mum for teaching me how to do that. "Moving on?"
"Yes yes," Grigor says with a scowl towards his brother. "Well, I think Kherek's from Orzammer, you know, the Dwarven city?" I nod my head to show that yes Grigor, I understand. "And I think Tamarel was a Dalish, before..."
Grigor's face turns grim and he shares a look with his brother. I frown. "Before what?" I ask uncertainly.
"You'll have to ask her," Kaiden says sternly, and my brow arches in surprise. Rogues aren't renowned for their seriousness, and I've never seen these two act so... grown up. What's the deal with Tamarel?
I get nervous when I think about her. I keep thinking about that kiss, before my Joining. When I thought I was going to die. Part of me wants to apologise to her and forget it ever happened, blame it all on my fear. But another pat of me remembers how she kissed back... Every night she's been "asleep" before I could broach the subject. And every morning, she's been up and away before I could talk to her. Truth be told, I haven't seen much of my scarred elven friend recently. It's been a lot less fun without her. I think I... miss her.
Which, yeah, doesn't sound that weird. But when I left the Siren's Call, left Isabella... I didn't miss her. Mind you, I was wallowing in a jail awaiting execution but... It just wasn't there. But Tamarel? I don't know how I feel about her.
Well, that fucking changes now.
"I will," I say with determination as I get to my feet and leave the courtyard.
"Lad," Grigor calls to me. I turn to him with raised brows. "Be careful how you approach Tamarel just now," He warns mysteriously before hunching his shoulders and turning to his brother. I get the message. Useless conversation over. I march through the Barracks and nearly collide with Duncan.
"Sparrow," he says curtly.
"Commander, Sup," I say distractedly. He glances at me.
"Something on your mind Sparrow?" he asks curiously. To be fair, nothing really bothers me nowadays. I've adjusted to this world and my place in it, and while I may not be happy with that, I'm coping. It's rare for me to brood now.
"Nothing to worry about," I say with a small smile. I need to get out of my head sometimes, I overthink things way too much.
"Good," Duncan says with a small smile. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, I was looking for Tamarel," I say, my stomach contracting in anxiety. She's been ignoring me but I know her and Duncan are tight. If he mentions to her that I want to talk it might make her think-
Get. Out. Of your own damn head.
"Oh, I believe she's in the Alienage," he says after a moment. My eyes widen a fraction.
A location. An actual physical location. And she isn't asleep.
I don't even say goodbye before I'm running out the door, off to see my elf!
I mean. My elf friend. I didn't let me finish.
And almost immediately tripping over Kherek, the dwarf, as I come into the courtyard.
"Watch where you're going!" he shouts as I sprawl onto the grass. "Is the place on fire?" he asks in confusion.
"What? No, sorry are you okay?" I ask him as I pull myself up and brush myself down. Kherek laughs and I'm struck by how grating his voice is. Kinda like... Vin Diesel, but rougher. It almost brings a grin to my face that a child of the stone has a voice like grating rocks.
"It'll take more than you to bring me down Sparrow. Where are you off to?" he asks with a smile. Me and Kherek haven't really spoken a lot, apart from my lessons. He's Duncan's age, maybe even older and if I wasn't relying on him for survival when we met, I'd probably not talk to him either.
I dunno, I'm a bit weird. I can talk to girls or women of any age with no problem. But older guys? I never know what to say really.
"Oh, I'm off to find, um, Tamarel," I say as I rub my face where it impacted the ground. Kherek's eyes dim a little, turning slightly sad. Seriously, am I missing something here?
A terrible thought strikes me. Is Tamarel okay? Is she in trouble, or sick? Or maybe it has something to do with what Grigor and Kaiden said earlier.
"Aye, she's in the market, last I saw her," he says with some of his old mirth. He looks at me with a knowing smile. "Better go find her before she bolts. I'd watch yourself though, she's in a funny mood." Winking at me, he moves into the Barracks.
I'm blushing furiously as I launch back into my sprint, rushing through the marketplace as my eyes search for her distinctive green bandana. Come on, it's either this or I wait in our room like a weirdo for the next few hours.
There's a flash of forest green, completely out of place in a city like Denerim and I rush towards it. I see her and she rushes away. Not wanting people to get the wrong image, I jog after her. With my new body, I quickly gain on her and smile. She's a lot quicker than I am, so she must want me to catch her.
But why's she running?
I draw closer and my heart drops. That's not Tamarel, but that is her bandana. A year in Thedas and I've never seen one like it.
I grab the small elf and whip them around to face me, cataloguing everything.
Elven female, Skinny, pale, dirty, shabby clothes, no shoes, scrapes on knees and elbows, scratches on hands. Small mark on left cheek, green eyes, crooked nose, back molars missing. Conclusion: Not Tamarel.
I pull the bandana off the shouting elf child as I pull them into the shadow of an alleyway.
"Where did you get this?" I growl angrily, shaking the bandana in her face. The girl tries to pull away from me but I keep a good grip on her. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to make sure she isn't going anywhere.
"It's mine give it back," she yells. She tries to grab it but I yank it away. She tries to claw at my face but I hold her at arms length.
"I'll give you five sovereigns if you tell me the truth?" I enquire, hoping to persuade her to tell me. Tamarel never takes this thing off willingly, it's like Rorschachs mask to her.
"I don't want any more gold from you shemlen," she says venemously. Any more? I cock my head to the side. Interesting. I let her go and stand my full height, hearing her pockets jingle mysteriously. Something that I doubt would normally fill her pocket, judging by her clothes. So either she's a thief or she's been paid off. She hovers for a second before dashing away. I sigh.
I slowly walk back to the Barracks as the sun begins to set and head straight for my room. As I expected, Tamarel isn't there. I throw her bandana onto her bed and peel of my own clothes before falling on mine.
Fine. Just fucking fine.
"Cesar, where's my fucking crossbow?" I demand grumpily towards the Antivan merchant slash assassin harshly. He blanches for a second before smiling and pulling out my new weapon from under his stall.
I stare at my brain child, which looks vaguely like a silvery tommy gun with a recurved bow on top.
I'll admit, he's a good craftsman. She's a work of beauty.
I pick it up and run my hand along it. Oh god, I want it. Wait a second, it's mine! YALDI Al SON!
"Paint me a word picture Cesar, try and sell her to me," I say with misty eyes.
"Well Messere Sparrow, this is without a doubt my finest work," he says with genuine pride in his voice. "As per your specifications, the crossbow can shoot multiple bolts before needing reloaded."
"How many exactly?" I ask with a glance. Always good to know the magazine count.
"I managed to manufacture it to accommodate a maximum of six bolts. It was very difficult to even get that many," he says with a smirk and my eyes widen. Bloody hell! "You'll notice the materials used?"
"Yeah, I was gonna say, I've not seen anything quite like it before," I say as I examine it closely. The whole thing is made from the silver metal, with steel coloured trimmings though the stock is bound in leather."What is it?"
"Ironbark!" he says excitedly and my eyes widen again. Only the Dalish know how to work ironbark effectively. Or so I thought. Shit, when he isn't killing for money this son of a bitch knows his way around a forge. "I managed to procure some from old contacts of mine and with the money you paid and the specifications you gave me I felt this was the most appropriate thing to use. Do you like the figurehead?" he asks nervously, so I turn to see it and smile.
A two headed griffon, the symbol of the Wardens and the same one as I'm wearing on my shoulder. I can see the arrow nestling in between the necks of the griffon and I nod slowly. Doesn't look like there'd be an issue with firing.
"You see, there was a problem with the weight distribution, the back was heavier than I had anticipated. I had feared the bow ruined, but then I remembered that you were a Grey Warden and the idea came to me. Forgive me for saying, but I believe the weapon is... fitting for a man in your position."
"And I'm inclined to agree Cesar," I say with a smile. This is the weapon of a Warden. The uniqueness of it. The colouring. The crest... Yes, this is my weapon. "You have outdone yourself mi amico," I say with a smile as I pick it up and test it out the weight, which isn't a problem. Suffice to say, I believe it's flawless.
"My thanks," Cesar says with a bowed head, smiling at the praise. I smile and swing the bow over my shoulder. With my other hand, I wave to the assassin smith as I turn away.
"I'll tell my friends about you," I say with a wave over my shoulder. I'm actually tempted to as well. This is a fine weapon to look at.
Now it's time to see if it's a fine weapon for battle.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
I fucking love my crossbow. I mean seriously, I can see myself cuddling it at nights. Whispering sweet nothings...
The bark is almost warm to touch, the places for my hands to hold wrapped in dark leather. The kick when I fire is negligible. And the twang, oh god I love that noise.
And I'm getting better with every shot. I started on the middle ring of the target but as my ammo clip depleted I got closer and closer and for the past five shots I've been hitting the bullseye dead on.
I'm pretty sure I'm Skilled. Might try some trick shots later. Nothing like a bit of gun-kata!
And with what we're likely to face in the South, the more firepower the better. I'm not exactly sure of the reception I'll receive from Flemeth. And then there's actually getting there...
"Sparrow?" Duncan calls as he walks out the door to the Barracks. I fire off another bolt and smirk as it hits the bullseye.
"Yo!" I call as I heft the crossbow over my shoulder. I feel like I should give it a name, something fitting... Oh wait, I still haven't named my Hero Sword have I? Woops.
"That is a fine weapon," Duncan says appreciatively as he surveys my crossbow. I smirk with satisfaction.
"Yes, it is," I say, stroking it affectionately. Then I realise what I'm doing and cough awkwardly. "So what's up?"
"We're leaving tomorrow morning," he says plainly and I smile in satisfaction.
"Good, quicker we get this done, the quicker... things go back to where they're supposed to be," I say happily. Flemeth is my Get out of Ferelden Free card. If anyone knows how I got here it'll be her and she's the only one that would have the juice to send me home.
"Have you finished all your business?" he asks me, and I nod emphatically. Everything I can, though a certain elf has been eluding me.
"Yeah, I'm ready to rock," I nearly screech. Tomorrow.
"Good. I shall see you tomorrow," he says as he begins to walk away. I move over to the target and pull my bolts from it.
Tomorrow is the start of a new chapter. I think I'll call it "The Road Home". After nearly a year in this place, I'm going home.
Very much out of character, I decide to cook the last meal for the Wardens. As a sort of going away present for myself, leave a good memory for them to remember me by. I'm not much of a chef, so it's nothing fancy, just sausage casserole and mashed potatoes. I think it the first time they'd had it, some ingredients were a little bit harder to come across, but they made some very emphatic noises. I blushed practically through the whole meal, mostly because I hadn't heard grunts like that since my birthday in the whorehouse. And then there were all the compliments. Mine was always the worst cooking at home, my family were practically masters when it came to the kitchen!
A little bit of 21st century cooking goes a long way it seems.
We all sat for a long time in the main room. The air was calm and peaceful, the fire roaring and filling the room with heat. It kind of made me sleepy, the humid air after a good meal. It reminded me of all those dinners back home, except in Ferelden there isn't a tv in the background.
Tamarel and Elvha excused themselves soon after, separately, both looking... anxious? I don't know, maybe it's an elf thing. Duncan, as always, ate alone in his room (seriously, the man has the social skills of a teenager, and that's coming from a teenager!), so that left the brothers Grigor and Kaidan, Kherek, Serana and myself to socialise.
We spend most of the night laughing at analogies from each other, and I even toss a few in myself, changing a few details so as not to cause confusion. For example, a trip to the doctors after bursting my face open changes to the apothecary. And then the subject turns to me. From what little I know of the Wardens, they know even less of me.
I feel Serana's eyes on me as I tell them that I was a bastard (truthful) and my mother was a travelling artisan (untruthful) who normally stayed in Lothering or Kirkwall. I tell them of the different lands I saw growing up, taken right from the ports we called at when I was with Isabella's crew. Serana nods quietly and she seems satisfied. Seeing as she was the one who had suspicions of my origins, I breathe a little easier.
I don't like lying to them, they're the closest things I have to friends but... I can't tell them the truth. They'd think me mad or worse, possessed. I mean, if I say I'm from another realm they're most likely to think of the Fade. And then I'll have to explain that in my world... they're not real. They don't matter.
No, it's best I keep my secret for now. Give everyone some piece of mind.
Eventually though, I have to go to bed to make sure it's not such a rude awakening when Duncan and I leave tomorrow. It's with a heavy sigh I bid my companions farewell and climb the stairs and enter my room.
Where I am surprised by the elf sitting on my bed, fidgeting with a bandana.
Tamarel looks up at me, and the look she gives me reminds me of Amy. Scared, lost... Like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Hey," I say with a smile, my chest clenching as she smiles nervously. "You okay?"
"Yes, I am well," Tamarel nods quickly. She avoids looking at me and I can see the scar on her face clearly for the first time. Starting from the corner of her mouth, it curves along her cheek and then over her eyebrow before coming down across her eye and ending on the bridge of her nose. For some reason it almost reminds me of half a love heart.
"I've missed you," I blurt out and my eyes widen, teeth clench. I should not have said that, Hagrids words echo in my mind. Tamarel looks at me with a small grin, and I notice that the scarred side of her face doesn't move. Paralysis. She was cut deep and that would expliain how messy it looks. She usually wears the bandana across half of her head, blocking off the damaged side of her face from view. To see her without it is almost like she's... naked. Vulnerable.
"I know," she says quietly, a tinge of regret. "I've missed you as well."
I take a breath and sit down next to her on my bed. "So," I say to break the silence, staring at the candle at the foot of her bed. She doesn't respond. "We should talk about us."
"Us?" She repeats, and her words are hollow, but with an aggressive edge. I get the sense that there is a lot more of her that I'm missing. Not really surprising. I barely know any of the Wardens, least of all my elvish companion.
"Look, I kissed you before my Joining and I'm sorry about that. Sorry for what it did to us. It was a mistake and I didn't think it through at all, didn't think about how it would affect you, or us. I was scared and lonely and you were always there for me. I dunno why, I thought it might've been because it was my last chance to do it but..." I pause, waiting for some reaction from her. When there is none, I continue. "I don't know how I feel about you right now. And until I get it sorted in my head, I think it's a good thing that me and Duncan are leaving tomorrow. Maybe when..." I pause, unable to lie this time. I might not be coming back. This might be the last time I see any of these guys, if Flemeth can send me home that is. And if that's the case, I'm not gonna make empty promises. "Yes, it's for the best that I'm going. Agreed?" I ask and turn to face her...
As her lips come crashing into mine, her hand snaking around my skull and pulling me into the kiss. My hand shoots up to stroke her cheek before my other arm reaches around her back and pulls her in to me. We separate for a moment, and as she stare into my eyes I'm filled with the same excitement I did that night. The same fire in my chest, the same goosebumps that makes what little hair I have stand on edge.
But is this love? Or just lust? Right now, in this sexually charged second where I want her, and she wants me, where my only desire is to hold this scarred and scared elf in my arms... does it matter?
"This... is not a mistake," she says angrily as her nails dig into my bare skull. But I know why. She's been hurt before. She has the look. I pull her back into a much softer, gentler kiss. My mind races before settling on one word.
Agreed, I think as I Will the candles extinguished.
I know, I'm terrible. Terrible terrible terrible. But hey, makes for an interesting read right now. Read and review peeps!
See you guys next week!