Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T+

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, Origins DL content, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

Chapter Sixty-Four: Remember the Dalish?

"Loose!"

With a fine loud poom-FWWWOOOOOSH, the massive projectile flew from the ballista, struck the wooden target, and exploded. The stacked logs first fell over and then caught fire.

"Beautiful!" Dworkin Glavonak cried.

"Not bad," Loghain said. "Lets see what a stronger mixture nets us. Siege weapons are better if there's less fire and more…you know, blowing stuff up. Rock doesn't burn, Master Dwarf."

"Not universally true, you know."

"Aye, but people don't build walls out of coal." He walked over and touched the bow arm of the ballista. "I'm happy with the way this is functioning. Do you think we can make it more powerful?"

"If we can make a stronger spring, I suppose. Won't be easy."

"Do it. I need this thing as strong as we can get it, and quickly. Has Wade come up with those arrowheads I asked for?"

"No, but that fruity little whatever of his said they'd be ready by this afternoon. You in a real ass-bustin' hurry for 'em?"

"Yes, Master Dwarf, as a matter of fact I am. Notify me at once when they arrive."

"Do you think this exploding ballista-thing will work against this creature we're going up against?" That was Elilia, watching from the sidelines as the new weapons designs were tested.

"I'm hoping it will, but I'm hedging my bets. I've set Master Wade to making arrowheads and bolt-tips out of Archdemon - the stuff is sharper and stronger than anything I've ever encountered, good enough to cut steel and not even lose its edge. Maybe it will cut this thing, armored though it may be."

"Makes me hope Wade finishes my new sword."

"If I know him the damned thing is finished, he's just obsessing over it the way he does."

"Last time I heard from him about it he was in tears because he couldn't find that one perfect material to finish it off."

"What about that rune you gave him?"

"He added it, but it wasn't enough for him. He wants to imbue the blade with something extra-incredible that will make him a legend among weaponsmiths. As opposed to merely amongst armorsmiths, I suppose."

"He is damned good. Unfortunate that he's so bloody temperamental. More like a flogging actor than an armor smith. Maybe we can scrounge something to satisfy him from the corpse of this Archdemon-father - if we can kill it. He'll have to let you have the sword before we head south, however - I'm not letting you get within a hundred miles of this thing without it, prima donnas be damned."

Elilia walked over and inspected the ballista. "You don't think Varric will be upset you figured out the design of his crossbow, do you?"

"Why should he be?" Loghain demanded. "Your friend Varric is many things, my dearest, but an engineer he is not. If he gets pissy just tell him he can name the damned thing, if he wants to."

He took her aside then, and kissed her. "Well, that was nice," she said. "What was that for?"

"I want you to help me talk to the Dalish," he said.

"Woah, you mean the Dalish? The Dalish who are camped out at the bottom of the mountain on the Brecilian side? Those Dalish?"

"Yes, those Dalish. I need you; you're good with people. I have to try and convince them to loan me a half dozen or so of their best archers, and I can't imagine that will be easy."

"Why do you need the Dalish? Don't we have enough archers to suit you?"

"Not good enough. I need distance and precision, and our archers are rarely adept at both. The Dalish train for that, from birth practically."

"Well, why can't you talk to them yourself? You seemed to be doing all right with them before, and they are…you know…" She led him some distance away from listening ears. "…Family."

"Not close family, and you know I have a knack for pissing people right off."

"And you know I'm not exactly the Dalish's favorite Shemlen. I fed an entire clan to a pack of werewolves, remember."

"Oh. Actually I'd forgotten that. I suppose it isn't a good idea to take you along, then."

"No. I suppose it isn't. Why not take that friend of Champion Hawke's, the one whose half a step from figuring your secret out, anyway? She's Dalish, she should be a big help to you. And she seems to like you well enough - Elder."

Loghain grimaced, but said, "I suppose it couldn't hurt to ask. But if she starts telling people I'm a half-blood I'm cutting her tongue out."

"Honestly, Loghain - I really don't understand what there is to be so worried about."

"Oh? Remember your initial reaction to the news? Anora wasn't particularly pleased, either."

"Okay, good point."

Later that afternoon, after the special arrowheads were delivered, inspected, and approved, Loghain knocked on the door of the palace room Merrill shared with Kireani Hawke. The mage was the one to answer.

"Oh! Elder - what a surprise. I suppose you want to see Hawke? I'll get her."

Loghain held up a hand. "Actually, Merrill, I came to ask a favor of you."

"A favor? What sort of favor?"

"There's a clan of Dalish elves camped at the foot of Mount Drakon, to the south of the city. They have pledged to lend support to the fight against the Orlesians, but that may never have to happen. I need to ask them if they would loan Ferelden a few of their best archers, and I'm not altogether good at talking to people even when I do understand the culture. I hoped you might come along with me and keep me from offending anyone too badly."

"Oo…erm…you see…there's something you really ought to know…the Dalish…are pretty likely to try and kill me…"

Loghain did not bother to hide his surprise. "But you are Dalish, aren't you?"

"It's a long and…sordid…story. Suffice to say I did something bad, and some bad things happened, and now they all…hate…me."

"All Dalish hate you? Or only your clan? Because it strikes me as unlikely this is the same clan."

"Well, I'd expect they've all been informed of what I've done by this time. Dalish are like that. Clannish." There was some evident bitterness in her tone as she said this.

"And that's why I could really use the help of someone who has been an insider," Loghain said. "Look, I don't know what you did and I don't want to know, but I won't let them hurt you; I can promise you that."

"I do want to help you, Elder…oh, why not? If they try anything I'll make their heads explode."

"Let's try and refrain from head explosions unless absolutely necessary, right?"

"Oh. Right."

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" Loghain asked as they walked out of the palace.

"Er…no, I haven't," Merrill said.

"What about a halla? Rode one of those?"

"No. I've never ridden anything except an aravel, which doesn't take much skill to ride since I was always inside, not on the driver's seat. Is that a problem?"

"Not much of one. My horse is more than strong enough to carry us both, assuming you're not scared of heights."

"Not particularly. Is it a very tall horse?"

"Very."

Gwaren House was close to the Palace, and he led her to the stables around back. Bloody Big Horse, a.k.a "Commander," whickered a greeting to his master as they approached his large box stall.

"Oh my goodness," Merrill said, looking up at the big animal. "Hello; you were at the wedding, weren't you? Well, you were in the wedding procession, I certainly don't remember seeing you in the Chantry for the ceremony and I'd definitely remember that. You were wearing blue armor with a matching blanket and had all sorts of pretty ribbons in your mane and tail. You were very handsome."

"He doesn't speak Common, Merrill," Loghain said, with an expressive roll of the eyes.

"Oh. I don't suppose he speaks Elvhen, then, does he? Didn't think so."

"Merrill, has anybody ever told you that you are an absolutely fascinating individual?" Loghain said, behind the hand that covered his face.

"Yes, and in exactly that tone, too," Merrill said, brightly.

Loghain shook his head once, vigorously, and then said, "Stand over there out of the way while I get Bloody Big Horse ready."

Merrill perched herself upon a railing and watched the process of putting saddle and bridle on the horse with bright-eyed interest. When he was finished she followed man and horse out of the stable to the yard.

Loghain climbed into the saddle and held a hand out to Merrill. "Just put your foot in the stirrup and I'll pull you up," he said. Another elf couldn't have done it, but Merrill was the height of a human woman and only needed a bit of a hop and a stretch to reach the metal ring. Loghain pulled her up and she sat easily enough behind him on the saddle.

"What do I do with my arms, Elder?" Merrill asked. "I mean, when I've seen people riding double like this in the past, the lady usually had her arms around the gentleman's middle, but I don't want anyone getting any funny ideas."

"I am fully aware of your relationship with Champion Hawke, as you are fully aware of my marriage to Teyrna Elilia. Whose going to get funny ideas, Merrill?"

"People watching. Teyrna Elilia, perhaps."

"Elilia knows I'm a one-woman man, Merrill, and besides which she knew I was going to ask you to come with me - she suggested it, in fact. You needn't worry about her. Falling off: now that's something to worry about. Unless of course you're wondering what your ladylove will think."

"Oh no, Hawke knows she's my one and only."

"I'm glad you've got someone you care about, Merrill."

"And I'm glad you do, too, Elder - I think everybody ought to have someone they care about, don't you? People that don't…I feel so sorry for them."

"Yes, yes - now hold tight and keep still; the path down the south slope of the mountain is narrow and steep, and I'm not too sure of this big brute's footing." In truth he knew full well the path was wide enough, and they hadn't even left the stable yard besides. He simply felt that if he listened to too much Merrill-speak his head might explode, and it would have nothing to do with blood magic.

He clicked his tongue once and the big horse obligingly walked ahead. They crossed the deep gorge cut straight through the mountain and the city by the mighty Drakon River on one of Denerim's six bridges and passed out the narrow, little-used gate that led to the southern slope and directly to the wild and dangerous Brecilian Forest. The Dalish camp was hidden inside, not far from the head of the Brecilian Passage. It didn't take Loghain long to find it: he'd scouted it out months ago, in case of trouble - from any quarter. But it was much larger now than the last time he'd seen it.

The bows that met them were lowered reluctantly when he spoke his name. "I wish to speak with Keeper Verrithal."

"I suppose such as you has business with him," the leader of the Dalish guards said doubtfully, though from the look he was giving Merrill it was hard to say whether he doubted his words or his eyes. "I will tell him you are here."

Loghain didn't dismount until the Keeper appeared. Then he climbed off of Bloody Big Horse and extended a hand to the man. The gesture the man returned was less a handshake than a handclasp. "Loghain. You are keeping well, I trust?"

"Well enough. Keeper, this is my friend Merrill. I brought her along in hopes she could keep me from misbehaving too badly."

The Keeper nodded toward Merrill, who did not get off the horse but sat there looking nervous and exceedingly guilty. By Verrithal's narrowed eyes the suggestion was he knew Merrill, or at least knew of her, and didn't approve. He said nothing, however.

"Your clan is a lot bigger than I thought it would be, Keeper," Loghain said. "By about two dozen aravels."

"This is not all my clan," Verrithal said. "Several other Ferelden clans have joined us, in hopes that our service will accord us some degree of respect from the Shemlen."

"And it is your service I've come to speak to you of, Keeper," Loghain said. "There are new developments you need to know about."

Verrithal cocked his head to one side. "Do you speak of the Sun-Eater? We are aware of its approach."

"The Sun-Eater?"

"That was what Asha Belannar called it when she spoke to us. A terrible golden dragon, great enough to block the sun."

"Well, she didn't tell me all of that, but yes, that is what I've come to speak of, in part."

"Come; sit by the fire with us and I will call the elders for a council."

"Thank you, Keeper."

Loghain helped Merrill down off from Bloody Big Horse, saw the animal into the care of the Dalish with a growl of warning, and followed the Keeper to the large bonfire at the center of the encampment. Merrill stayed close by his side as they passed what seemed to be a thousand wary eyes, but it was hard to tell if that was because she thought she needed protection or because she thought he did.

The Keepers and Elders were assembled with a pleasing degree of alacrity, considering some of the elders were eld indeed. "First of all, I just want you all to know: Orlais is embroiled in something of a civil war. They may not be a threat to Ferelden any longer, at least for awhile."

"So then we are called together for nothing?" a young woman, evidently a Keeper, said.

"No, Erelleth, not for nothing," Verrithal said. "Please, Loghain - continue."

"Forestalling any war can only be a good thing," Loghain said. "I hope very much that this one has been preempted eternally, but I know better. It will happen one day, even if the Orlesian Empire falls. There's always someone who wants to prove how big and bad they are by picking on someone smaller. And that, too, is why I have come to speak to you today."

"You speak of the Sun-Eater, of course," Verrithal said. "You wish our help in destroying it. We will aid you in any way we can."

Loghain blinked. "You will? I didn't expect such an easy acquiescence, to say the least."

"The Woman of Many Years told us that we must. Besides which, this creature is a threat to us all. If it lives, there will never be an end to the scourge of the Darkspawn. We hope you have a plan to defeat this creature: Asha Belannar said we ought to leave that up to you."

Loghain breathed deeply. "My plan is to hit it with everything I can throw. To that end I've had some special arrows made up, with special arrowheads. I brought one of them along with me so you can have a look."

He took from his pack a single blue-tipped arrow, rifle-fletched with hawk feathers, and allowed the elves to pass them around. "This is elvhen-style fletching," one old man said. "Who made these?"

"A man named Master Wade made the arrowheads, but I did the rest," Loghain said.

"And where did you learn to fletch like that?"

"From my mother," Loghain said. The old man looked at him in surprise, then speculation, and ultimately a degree of distaste. Merrill blinked, looked at Loghain, and then burst out with:

"Oh! I thought you had an elfy face!"

A/N: Not wholly satisfied with this chapter, but at least it takes me where I needed to get to. Which is not to Merrill blabbing to everyone about Loghain's ancestry, although I'm not sure yet that it won't happen.