Thanks to my beta reader, WellspringCD
The mood was sombre and downcast as Fearghal, Alistair and Bennet reached the village. As they neared the tavern Bennet stopped.
"I reckon we could all do with a pint. You two lads go in and fight your way to the bar, I'll go to the Chantry and see the boy; give him his mam's ring. I'll let the sisters know about her and tell them we dealt with the bandits."
"Don't be long," Fearghal told him tersely, heading to the tavern and pushing the door open.
As they entered, some men were just coming out. They nodded at the two Wardens on their way past. Alistair quickly bagged the table they'd just vacated while Fearghal headed to the bar. Bane settled himself unobtrusively under the table.
Presently, Fearghal rejoined Alistair, carefully carrying three pints of ale. He set them down, pushing one towards Alistair, then sat down and picked up one of the other tankards, drinking deeply.
Alistair sipped his ale more cautiously; he didn't have much of a head for ale, or any alcohol for that matter. "Bennet seems like a good sort," he ventured.
Fearghal nodded and set his tankard down. "He is. Salt of the earth, as they say," he confirmed. He grinned suddenly. "You should see his wife, she's a tiny little thing; barely comes up past his elbow." He chuckled. "The fastest way to get a seat at our local was to tell Bennet his wife was looking for him; that way two men could sit down."
Alistair smiled. "Will he come with us or head home, do you think?"
Fearghal shrugged, his good humour vanishing. "I don't know. Probably best if he heads home. Family man and all that."
Alistair shuffled uncomfortably. He found Fearghal's rapidly shifting moods difficult to deal with and he was relieved when Bennet joined them a couple of minutes later.
"All sorted?" asked Fearghal.
Bennet nodded and sat down, making the chair creak ominously. "Poor little bugger. From the sounds of it, they're not from around here, so he's got no-one." Bennet picked up his tankard and drained it on one go. "Maker! I needed that! Anyway, the sister told me that his Dad and brother turned up dead at a neighbour's farm yesterday."
"There's a lot of it about," muttered Fearghal.
Bennet looked apologetic. "Yeah, well... they said they'd look after him."
Alistair grimaced. Another templar or brother for the Chantry. He caught Fearghal looking at him and flushed. He really regretted saying so much about himself the previous night.
Fearghal looked as if he was about to say something, then thought better of it. He picked up his tankard and drained it. Standing, he collected Bennet's empty tankard and then peered into Alistair's tankard, which was still more than half full.
"You need to keep up," he observed. "Same again, Bennet?"
Bennet grinned." Aye... and leave the lad alone. Not everyone grew up running up a tab in the local tavern."
Fearghal grinned. "Hey! I wasn't that bad."
"No? I had to carry you back up that hill enough times; I'd beg to differ," argued Bennet amiably. He grinned across at Alistair. "I remember this one time... "
"Well! Look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed!" exclaimed a loud voice, cutting across the banter.
"Uh-oh. Loghain's men. This can't be good," murmured Alistair, noting the device on the man's armour.
Fearghal turned and faced the soldier, a thuggish-looking fellow, who was smirking at him. The man was flanked by at least four others.
The soldier turned to one of his comrades.
"Haven't we spent all day asking about a fellow by this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen him?" he asked.
"It seems we were lied to," sneered his weasel-faced comrade.
Both sides were astonished when a red-haired Chantry sister tried to intervene.
"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble." She smiled sweetly at the soldier confronting Fearghal. "These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge." Although fluent, her Fereldan was strangely accented.
"They're more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister," he threatened. "You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them."
Alistair groaned inwardly as a dangerous smile spread over Fearghal's face. "It looks like he wants a fight. I'm happy to oblige," he said, his voice eager.
Bennet was already getting to his feet, his face impassive, and Alistair followed suit.
The soldier regarded them warily. "Right! Let's make this quick!" he snarled.
Fearghal hurled the tankards at the men in front of him. Instinctively they ducked, which gave him a moment to grab his shield off his back and draw his sword. With a savage roar that was becoming familiar to Alistair, Fearghal swung his shield. Patrons scattered as Bennet swung the massive two-handed sword off his back and waded into the fray. Alistair thrust his own shield at another soldier, pushing his weight behind it, trying to gain the advantage. The table they'd been sitting at tipped over as Bane launched himself out from underneath, scattering chairs as he went. Alistair peered over his shield. Two soldiers had retreated to the corner of the room and were raising crossbows. One disappeared from view as Bane leaped at his throat; the other sunk to the floor as a dagger slashed across his throat. Alistair was startled to see the red-haired Chantry sister standing behind him.
In moments, the thuggish soldier was pleading for their lives.
"We surrender!" he yelled. He and his remaining companion threw down their weapons.
Fearghal paused as the Chantry sister, her robes spattered with blood, appeared at his side. "Good," she announced happily. "They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now."
"I don't want them reporting to Loghain," growled Fearghal.
"Please! Wait!" yelped the soldier.
"They have surrendered! They were no match for you! Let them be!" insisted the sister.
"They were going to kill us!" protested Fearghal angrily.
The sister was unflinching. Alistair had to admire her nerve. He glanced across at Bennet; he was watching Fearghal, his face worried.
The sister held her ground. "But they failed, and I do not wish death on anyone."
Fearghal's sword flashed and took the man's head from his shoulders. "But I do," he growled.
Alistair heard Bennet gasp and looked across to see the shock on the big man's face. Not shock at the death; he's seen enough of that. Shocked that Fearghal would kill a man who had surrendered. Has he changed so much from the man that Bennet knew?
Alistair looked at the remaining soldier, the man he'd been fighting. He saw him gulp, his eyes big with fear as Fearghal turned to him. Before he'd even thought about what he was doing, Alistair stepped in front of the quaking soldier.
"You're going to have to get through me to get to him. I will not let you do this." Alistair was surprised at how firm his own voice sounded.
"Get out of my way, Chantry boy." Fearghal's eyes narrowed dangerously. Alistair could see the resolution, the anger, in them; Fearghal would quite cheerfully fight him to get to the unarmed man behind him.
Alistair saw Fearghal tense and readied himself. He was startled when Bennet landed a huge hand on Fearghal's shield arm, gripping it tight.
"The lad's right, m'lo... Fearghal," said Bennet.
Alistair never took his eyes off Fearghal, who glared back at him.
Bennet's voice was low but firm. "Your father would weep to see you do this. He was an honourable man; he taught you to be an honourable man."
Fearghal went white. He twisted in the big man's grasp and looked up at Bennet. "You bastard!" he breathed. "My father was murdered by a man he considered his best friend; also an honourable man." His face twisted in contempt. "Where did his honour get him, Bennet?" His voice rose, shaking with rage. "Our King is dead, murdered by his own father-in-law; another honourable man!" He jerked his arm free and glared up at Bennet. "I've had a bellyful of honour."
Alistair felt a flash of sympathy for Bennet as he met Fearghal's glare, the sorrow plain in his face.
"Do what you like with him," snarled Fearghal, then stormed out of the tavern, his hound in his wake.
Alistair heard a sigh of relief behind him and whirled on the soldier, who flinched.
"You. I want you to take a message to Loghain," he growled.
The man nodded, his head bobbing up and down rapidly.
"Tell him that the Wardens know what happened at Ostagar; that one of these days, we're going to make him pay."
"Yes, ser. I'll tell him," the man squeaked. As Alistair stepped back, he turned and fled.
Alistair looked up at Bennet. "We'd better go."
Bennet nodded and headed for the door.
The red-haired sister watched them leave.
When Alistair and Bennet made their way back to Morrigan there was no sign of Fearghal or Bane. Morrigan had got a fire going and a pot of stew was simmering over it.
Morrigan glanced at Alistair. "You appear to have mislaid your fellow-Warden, Alistair."
Alistair scowled at her. "He's mislaid himself."
Bennet stepped in at Morrigan's quizzical look. "We had a bit of... an altercation, ran into some of Loghain's men. Happen Fearghal's gone off on his own for a bit. He usually does when his temper's up. He'll be back when he's calmed down."
"Well, let's hope he doesn't kill anyone in the meantime," Alistair muttered snidely.
Bennet frowned at him, but didn't say anything. Instead he turned his attention to the stew pot. "That smells good, lass. Is it ready for eating?" When Morrigan nodded, Bennet retrieved some plates and spoons and dished up stew for the three of them.
They sat eating quietly. Alistair looked up at the sky. It was going to be dark soon. He'd assumed that they would leave Lothering before nightfall but if they didn't go soon, it would be too late. He really didn't want to linger after the trouble with Loghain's men. Once their meal was complete, Alistair gathered up the dishes and headed over to the small stream nearby to wash them.
As he headed back towards the others, he spotted Fearghal meandering unsteadily towards the fire. They arrived at the same time.
He looked pointedly at the bottle in Fearghal's hand, then back up at his face. "Great! That's just great. I suppose that means we're staying the night here?" The light was fading fast.
"Don't get your small clothes in a bunch, Chantry boy," slurred Fearghal. He swayed and sat down suddenly, staring morosely into the fire.
Bennet shook his head, then started rifling through packs and retrieving tents.
Fearghal looked up. "He only had three."
Alistair looked at him in confusion. "Three what?"
"Tents," said Fearghal carefully, swigging from the bottle. "Got fuh-four bedrolls though." Fearghal looked down at the bottle, frowning.
Bennet looked across at Alistair, his lips twitching. "You know how to put up a tent, lad?"
Alistair looked doubtful. "Well, sort of. I've not seen tents quite like this before though."
"There's nowt to it, once you get the hang of it," Bennet reassured him, then proceeded to set up the first tent, explaining what he was doing and why. He helped Alistair erect the second tent and then left him to set up the third. Bennet grabbed the bedrolls and unrolled one in the first tent, one in the second and two in the third. Alistair watched him, he had a bad feeling about this.
"Er...how are we... ?" Alistair waved vaguely at the tents.
"I reckon the lass in one, me in another and you and him in the third," said Bennet jerking his head at Fearghal.
Seeing the look on Alistair's face, he apologised. "Sorry lad,, but I don't reckon there'd be enough room in with me."
By the fire, Fearghal giggled. "You don' wanna share wi' Bennet. He farts." His face went solemn when Bennet snorted. "You do," he asserted, nodding. "Revie tol' me so!"
Bennet laughed. "Well you snore! And I know because Gilmore told me so!" He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
Alistair started at the name. Gilmore. That was the name that Duncan had mentioned; Ser Gilmore was the knight he was going to test.
Fearghal had gone tense at Bennet's mention of the name.
Bennet looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, Fearghal, I didn't think."
Fearghal waved off the apology. "Forget it." he mumbled. He raised the bottle to his lips, gulping down the contents.
"Er... excuse me." No one had noticed the sister drawing closer to the fire.
Alistair recognised her as the red-head that had helped them when Loghain's men had attacked. Fearghal swivelled his head and blinked up at her. When he tried and failed to stand, Bennet stepped behind him and hauled him to his feet roughly.
The sister smiled at Fearghal uncertainly. "I apologize for interfering earlier, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."
"Tha's alright." Fearghal swayed, peering at her, trying to focus. "Wh-where's a sister learn to fight like that, anyway."
"I wasn't born in the Chantry, you know," she told him primly. "Many of us had more... colourful lives before we joined."
"I bet." Fearghal leered at her.
Bennet frowned "Behave, Fearghal," he growled and swatted Fearghal's head. Fearghal swayed alarmingly, even though the blow was light. He stayed on his feet, but only because Bennet was holding onto his belt with his other hand.
The sister frowned, then continued, "Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."
"I am Fearghal. A pleasure, m'lady." Fearghal bowed so low that he had trouble straightening up again until Bennet pulled him up straight.
Alistair rolled his eyes, groaning. It's like watching a bizarre puppet show! Not for the first time that day, he was grateful for the big man's presence.
"Those men said you were a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?"
Fearghal nodded, his eyes crossing slightly at the motion.
"I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'd like to come with you," said the sister earnestly.
"Why so eager to come with us?" asked Alistair, his curiosity aroused by this strange sister.
The sister hesitated, then replied, "The Maker told me to."
Fearghal burst out laughing. He clung on to Bennet. "The Maker..." His legs buckled and Bennet hoisted him back up. "told her to..." he gasped, laughing so hard tears ran down his face. Fearghal clutched his belly, still laughing and started to slide down Bennet again.
In spite of Alistair's intense dislike of Fearghal, he found his lips twitching; Fearghal's genuine mirth was hard to resist.
Bennet's big hand clutched the back of Fearghal's armour and lifted him again until he dangled above the ground. The big man shook him gently. "Get a hold of yourself, Fearghal." His voice was firm and calm, but Alistair could see the twinkle in his eyes; or maybe that was the firelight.
Finally Fearghal's laughter stilled. Smiling broadly at Leliana, he flung one arm wide, while the other clutched the bottle he'd been drinking from. "The Maker 's on my side? Welcome aboard, then!" he announced gleefully.
"Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought." Morrigan's voice was cross and irritated.
For once, Alistair agreed with her. More crazy; I thought we were all full up.
"Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down." Leliana beamed at Fearghal, apparently unconcerned that he was almost completely legless. "I will return first thing in the morning."
Fearghal saluted her with the bottle as she turned to leave, then promptly passed out.