Chapter Nine: The Witch's Hut

Yvaine woke with a start, the last thing she remembered before blacking out was a huge group of darkspawn coming straight for her, but as she reached for her sword she noticed her arm was bare of her armor. In fact, as she further examined her arm she could feel that she was in nothing but her small clothes, this was not as she remembered.

"Ah, awake at last, I see. Mother shall be very pleased," said a familiar voice. Yvaine sat up from what she now knew was a bed and looked at the source of the voice, she was very surprised to see Morrigan standing before her, a satisfied smirk painted on her lips.

"Morrigan," said Yvaine softly.

Morrigan's smirk grew even broader. "I see your memory is still in tact, tell me, what do you remember of last night?"

Yvaine thought back to the last events she could recall. "Darkspawn, lots of darkspawn. I lit the fire and there were darkspawn everywhere. Then I heard something, like wings, a bird maybe?"

The witch nodded, satisfied with her answer. "Those wings you heard belonged to my mother, when the battle took a turn for the worst, she transformed herself into a great bird and plucked you and your party from atop the tower."

"My party?" muttered Yvaine, then their images came clearly. "Fergus! Alistair! What happened to them? Are they alright? Did the ogre get them?"

"Ogre?" balked Morrigan. "Do you not remember slaying the beast as it tried to kill your brother?"

Yvaine grimly shook her head.

"Well, then you'll have to ask your brother for the story," said Morrigan lightly. "He's been repeating it nearly every hour since you arrived 'tis, I believe, some sort of way of calming himself until he sees you again."

"Why has he not been allowed to see me?" asked Yvaine, slightly angered that her brother had been denied access to seeing her.

"'Twas thought by Mother and I his presence would interfere with your recovery," said Morrigan stiffly. "He was fussing so terribly over that mangy mutt of yours, we thought it best not to have him around you, for fear he ruin our work on you."

"And what of Alistair?" asked Yvaine, hoping her fellow Warden was alright. "I remember he was knocked out during our encounter with the ogre, how is he doing?"

"The dim witted one who doesn't trust the food we give him? His injuries were severe, but not as severe as yours," sighed Morrigan, growing tired of these never ending questions. "He's been with your brother, demanding that he be allowed inside to check on you, he does not believe my mother's reassurances that you are unharmed."

"How long have I been out?" asked Yvaine, a guilty blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Nearly eight hours," replied Morrigan. "My mother was able to heal you though twas not as easy as it sounds, you were nearly dead when you arrived her. 'Tis nothing short of a miracle you are sitting here, speaking with me now."

She nodded and started to move to get out of bed, wanting desperately to see her brother and Alistair.

"Not yet," said Morrigan, gently pushing her back into bed. "I still have much to tell you." She sat on the end of the bed, staring at Yvaine for a time before speaking again. "You should know that the man who was to respond to the beacon you lit quit the field and the battle was lost."

Yvaine felt her heart drop to her stomach, she could not, would not believe that Cailan and Duncan had lost the battle, the consequences would be too severe if it was true.

"I can tell by that look you don't believe me," scoffed Morrigan. "Your companions didn't take the news well either, 'tis a shame really, but if you require proof I could escort you to the battlefield."

"That's not necessary," said Yvaine quickly. "I believe you, it's just . . . hard to digest, thinking that Cailan lost the battle he was so looking forward to. Are he and Duncan here as well?"

Morrigan shook her head. "The man who was your king and your Warden Commander are both dead, I saw them both perish myself, your king crushed by an ogre and your commander was decapitated by the darkspawns' general. The others left behind were massacred, 'twas a grizzly sight indeed."

She dropped back onto her pillow, the news hitting her like a pile of bricks. 'No,' she thought. 'Duncan and Cailan can't be dead, Ferelden needs them. Oh Maker, Alistair is going to be devastated.' The thought of her fellow Grey Warden roused her from her thoughts, she had to see him, find out what their next move was now that Duncan and the King were both lost. She went to get up again and this time Morrigan did not prevent her from moving.

"There is one more thing," said Morrigan. Yvaine turned to face her, her brown eyes searching the wolf like ones. "We had to cut your hair."

"My hair?" whispered Yvaine, and she reached up only to find that her hair barely touched her collarbone now. "Why'd you cut my hair?"

"Along with my mother's magic, we used some salves to help heal you, when you were asleep your hair would constantly get wrapped up in the paste so Mother cut it to where it would not be a hinderance any longer," said Morrigan simply.

Yvaine stared at the witch as she ran her fingers through her newly shortened locks. "Why was my hair down anyway?"

"We had to wash you first before we could heal you," said Morrigan as she stood. "You were covered in blood and we were unable to discern which of it came from you. Do not worry, in time it shall grow back to its former glory."

She gave a small nod, still getting a feel for her shorter hair.

"When you are ready, Mother would like to speak with you," said Morrigan as she went to the bubbling pot in the fireplace. "She is outside by the fire with your brother and fellow Warden. Your things are in the chest at the end of the bed, that mongrel of yours went back to the camp and fetched your pack for you, 'tis sitting beside the bed."

Yvaine fully stood up, her newly healed body feeling better than it had before the battle last night. She walked to the chest and extracted her gear, glad to see her family's shield and sword were still with her and not lost, she glanced up at Morrigan who's back was to her now. "Thank you, Morrigan, for my life."

Morrigan turned and looked at her, her animal eyes wide with surprise. "'Twas nothing," she said slowly, "though 'twas more of Mother's doing than my own." They stood in silence for a few moments longer before Morrigan spoke again. "You should go see Mother, and your companions, then be on your way."

Yvaine gave a breathy laugh as she started putting her armor back on, if she had not known better, she would have thought Morrigan was embarrassed.

Several minutes later she emerged from the hut fully dressed with her pack on her back and sword and shield returned to their respective homes, to say she was eager to see her companions again was an understatement.

Morrigan's mother's eyes flicked to the door when she heard it opening, pleased to see that the young woman had finally wakened. "See there, your fellow Grey Warden," she said to Alistair's turned back. "You worry too much, young man."

Alistair turned around and saw Yvaine, he was so thrilled to see her he momentarily forgot about his lost mentor. He charged forward and embraced her, not caring if she wanted it or would accept it. "Thank the Maker you're alive," he sighed as he released his tight hold on her body, he took a step back and fully took her in, noticing that her hair was a great deal shorter. "What happened to your . . . ?"

Yvaine ran her fingers through it for the umpteenth time and gave a loud sigh. "Morrigan's mother, she cut it to prevent it from getting in the salves on my body. Where's Fergus and Gawain?"

"Scouting out for possible darkspawn stragglers, don't worry, he hasn't gone past the magical barrier around this hut," said Alistair, his voice thick with emotion. "Maker, this doesn't seem real, if it weren't for Morrigan and her mother we'd all be dead on top of that damned tower."

"Don't speak of me as if I'm not here, lad," said Morrigan's mother sternly.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," stammered Alistair, obviously embarrassed. "But you haven't given us a name to call you."

The old woman sighed. "Names are pretty but serve little purpose beyond labeling, the Chasid call me Flemeth, I suppose it's as good a name as any."

"Flemeth?" repeated Alistair nervously. "You mean the Flemeth? The Witch of the Wilds? The one who has several legends dedicated to the horrible way she kills innocent people?"

"Innocent is a relative term, young man," said Flemeth harshly, "but yes, I suppose I am that Flemeth."

Alistair looked as if he were about to speak again but Yvaine cut him off. "Who she is doesn't matter, what does matter is she risked her life and safety to save us and we owe her a great debt for that."

Flemeth's gold eyes sparkled with interest, never before had she encountered a woman so innocent of the world yet still so very wise, this was proving to be most interesting. "The girl speaks the truth, and I would suggest listening to her words before speaking your own, lad."

Yvaine flushed with embarrassment, she could not believe that this woman was telling her superior to listen to her instead of making his own decisions, she did not care that she was the most powerful witch in existence.

"Why did you save us, then?" asked Alistair, barely able to keep the contempt from his voice.

Flemeth scoffed. "You really think it would have been wise of me to let the last Grey Wardens die when a Blight is occurring? Really, lad, you should think about some of these questions before speaking."

"Alistair is right in his inquiry," said Yvaine, defensively. "Why did you save us? Why not Duncan or another pair of Grey Wardens? What is so special about us that we were the ones chosen above all others?"

She could see the old witch's eyes glinting in the light, whatever answer she gave was going to be a lie, that much she was sure of.

"You were simply the only two I could reach," replied Flemeth and Yvaine could hear the lie ringing in her tone. "If I had had more time, I might have been able to save your King and your commander. Just know now you both have an important duty, the two of you must unite the lands against this impending Blight just as the Wardens of old did."

"How are we supposed to unite the lands when Loghain has ripped them apart?" asked Yvaine bitterly, thinking of Loghain's betrayal.

Alistair's face contorted in a dark expression. "That still doesn't make any sense! Why would he do this?"

Flemeth gave a small smile. "Now that is an excellent question. Men's hearts harbor shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he is still under the belief this is merely a large horde and not truly a Blight, maybe he believes he can prevent any such event from happening without the help of Grey Wardens. Either way, he is still blind to the evil that is behind this great threat."

"The archdemon," snarled Alistair and Flemeth nodded.

Yvaine looked at both of them, feeling as if she were missing something important. "What is an archdemon, exactly? There wasn't much on the subject when I was in school."

"That's because very little is known about it save for the few legends," replied Flemeth, slightly amused at the Yvaine's naivety. "It is said that long ago, the Maker cast the Old Gods of the the Tevinter Imperium to prisons deep beneath the surface, where they were to slumber for the rest of time. An archdemon is one of these Old Gods whom has been tainted by the blood of the darkspawn, from what little there is said on them, history remembers them as immortal and powerful beings more terrifying than any plague known to man. And only fools ignore history."

Yvaine was about to speak again when she heard barking, she turned to see Gawain running at top speed with Fergus not far behind him. She ran to greet him, throwing her arms around his neck as he spun her around, both were laughing and crying out of relief.

"Maker, I thought you were dead," said Fergus as he held his little sister, still unable to believe that she was still here. "When those arrows hit you, I thought. . ."

"Shh," said Yvaine soothingly. "Everything's alright now, Fergus, we're all here ready to fight the Blight, and Loghain and whatever else the Maker feels like throwing at us."

"Including the archdemon?" quipped Flemeth.

Yvaine nodded. "Yes, including the archdemon."

"Wait, we're actually going to do this? By ourselves?" exclaimed Alistair. "No Grey Warden in the history of the order has ever fought off a Blight without the strength of half a dozen nations at his back. Besides that, I'm not even sure how an archdemon is defeated."

"Alistair," said Yvaine calmly, her eyes meeting his, "if we don't do anything then the archdemon has surely won and hope for all of Thedas is lost. And don't worry about the archdemon just yet, every creature has a weakness and we will discover its before we have to face it."

Alistair took comfort in her words, he knew she was right but after all that had happened, carrying on with their mission to end the Blight seemed almost like a hopeless cause. "Now all we have to do is figure out how to gather an army, anyone have any ideas?"

Flemeth rolled her eyes. "Have the Grey Wardens no allies anymore? Were they all taken by the last Blight?"

"I . . . I don't know!" shouted Alistair, he was clearly very frustrated at not having all of the answers. "I know Duncan called on the Wardens in Orlais. And Arl Eamon surely wouldn't stand for what Loghain's done!"

"Arl Eamon?" repeated Yvaine curiously. "You mean the Arl of Redcliffe?"

"Yes," replied Alistair. "I know him, he raised me, he's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet and he is . . . was Cailan's uncle, so he has as much personal stake in this as we do. We should go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Fergus was not convinced. "Are you sure he can be trusted? He might've been Cailan's uncle but he was also friends with Loghain, maybe he had something to do with his pulling out of the battle."

Alistair shook his head. "The arl's men weren't even at Ostagar, I believe he had promised Cailan some forces but they never arrived, he'd surely be able to help us."

Yvaine felt a familiar sense of dread creep into her heart. Those were similar words to the ones she had heard Howe speak the day their castle was attacked, his forces had been delayed only to participate in a surprise attack. As much as she did not want to shoot down Alistair's idea, she could not help feeling they would be better off looking for help elsewhere.

"Even if he did help us, his army would be no match against the darkspawn," sighed Fergus, he too was suspicious of the arl's intentions. "We need more people on our side, not just a small force from an arling."

Suddenly Yvaine remembered something important from yesterday, why she and her group had encountered Morrigan and Flemeth in the first place. "The treaties!" she exclaimed, and the others looked over at her, slightly confused.

"Of course!" shouted Alistair when he realized what she meant. "The Grey Wardens have always called upon the help of mages, elves, dwarves and others! The treaties are a binding contract, obligating all other groups to help us during a Blight!"

Quickly she threw her pack off of her shoulder and started searching for the pieces of parchment, last night she had offered them to Duncan but he had told her to hold on to them, saying they were safer in her hands. 'Maybe he knew he wouldn't make it out of that battle alive,' she thought as she rummaged through her pack, finally finding the papers she needed. "Here!" She handed them to Alistair who read them quickly.

"Just as I thought," he said happily. "We can travel to Orzammar, the Brecilian Forest and the Circle of Magi and contract help from each group."

"Sounds like an army to me," mused Flemeth as she watched the three warriors.

"It certainly does," said Alistair as he stared at the papers in his hands, then he turned to Yvaine. "So do you think we can do this? Go to these places and gather an army?"

She nodded her head, surprisingly confident now that they had a plan. "I believe we can, Alistair, it's just a matter of getting started."

From behind them Flemeth chuckled. "It appears you are ready to be Grey Wardens after all. Now, before you go traipsing around all of Ferelden, I have yet one more thing I can offer you."

Just as she spoke, Morrigan appeared from the hut, and Yvaine had a feeling she knew what Flemeth was about to offer them.

"The stew is nearly ready, Mother dear," said Morrigan though the words felt forced, as if she were trying to be nice to her mother. "Should I set the table for five or just two?"

"The Wardens and their companions will be leaving shortly, girl," said Flemeth, "and you shall be joining them."

Morrigan smiled. "Such a shame—wait, what?!" She had obviously only heard the part where the group of outsiders would be leaving but nothing after that.

"I know you heard me, girl, the last time I checked you had ears," laughed Flemeth before turning serious. "These two Wardens are tasked with uniting the lands and ending the Blight, they need you, you can provide them great aid which will ensure their success."

Morrigan looked as she were going to protest further but instead gave up the fight. "I . . . understand."

Flemeth nodded then turned to Yvaine and Alistair. "And do you understand, Wardens? I give you that which I treasure above all else, not because I wish to, but because I have to. Consider this repayment for your lives. You must now succeed."

"I understand," said Yvaine then she looked at Morrigan. "Welcome, Morrigan, I'm glad you've joined us, regardless of the circumstances."

Alistair and Fergus shared a concerned look, while they both knew help was needed they could not really understand why Yvaine was so willing to allow the daughter of an infamous witch into their group.

The young witch smiled at Yvaine, she was finding herself liking this young woman more and more. "I will be with you shortly, I first must fetch my things." She walked back towards the hut, her steps taking longer as if she wished to stay with her mother instead of rushing off to fight darkspawn.

"She doesn't seem too thrilled to be leaving you, Flemeth," said Yvaine cautiously, glancing briefly at the witch.

Flemeth chuckled. "She's been itching to get out of the Wilds for some time now, just consider this my push for her to leave the next. Now, Yvaine, I would like to speak with you . . . alone." She glanced at Fergus and Alistair, both of whom had taken a step closer to Yvaine.

"As you wish," she said lightly and she followed Flemeth from the hut to the waters that surrounded the land.

Fergus watched Yvaine walk away from them with Flemeth behind her, he did not trust the witch but he knew better than to protest, the last thing they needed right now was for the Witch of the Wilds cooking them in the pot instead of the stew. Instead he turned to Alistair, the young Warden's admittance to having been raised by Arl Eamon not having escaped his notice.

"You know, in all of my years of going to Redcliffe, I don't believe we ever met," said Fergus slowly, turning to face the man beside him. He watched as Alistair turned an interesting shade of pink, he had never met a man that blushed as much as he did, but he had met a boy that had.

"Ah, yeah, we might have," said Alistair, fumbling over the words. "Weren't you at the arl's Name Day celebration a few years back? That was quite the party—"

"Drop the stupid act, I'm not buying it for a second," snapped Fergus, his dark brown eyes sparkling with fury. "Who do you think you're fooling? I know who you are."

Alistair tensed up, not sure how he should react to this news. "Just who are you accusing me of being, exactly?" They stared at each other for a few moments, neither one moving a muscle as they studied each other, prepared for a fight if necessary.

"You're the stable boy that saved Yvaine's life," said Fergus, his voice had lost all edge now, and Alistair released a sigh of relief. "Why didn't you tell her?"

"Oh is that what this is about?" asked Alistair, immensely relieved. "Well, it didn't seem like the right time, you know, with the impending battle and all. How'd you figure it out?"

Fergus shook his head as a smile crept onto his lips. "It wasn't all that hard, but you confirmed my suspicions when you said you had lived in Redcliffe at the arl's estate. You know, she spoke about you for weeks afterwards, saying that you were her knight in shining armor. Oh, and I'm sorry about that ogre comment by the way."

Alistair laughed. "Until the other night, I had completely forgotten about it." He was then silent for a few moments, gazing at Yvaine from a distance as she spoke with Flemeth. "I never forgot her though, she was the only person who was ever decent to me, I had always wondered what had happened to her."

"Funny," said Fergus following his eyes and seeing that they were on his sister, "she said the same thing about you, she was sorely disappointed to find you had left Redcliffe."

"I never left Redcliffe, just the arl's estate," replied Alistair, tearing his gaze from Yvaine. "I still can't believe she remembered me."

"Did you ever tell her your name?" asked Fergus.

"I told her to call me Al, she never asked if it stood for something longer," he said, his mind drifting off to the moment they had shared a kiss as children. "You don't think she'll freak out if she finds out I was the stable boy, do you?"

Fergus laughed, clapping Alistair on the back with a loud thud. "What do you mean 'if she finds out'? You do realize that if you don't tell her first, I'll be the one to do it, don't you?"

Alistair groaned as Fergus let out another hearty laugh.

When she was sure they were a decent length away from eavesdroppers, Flemeth spoke. "You are a very unique young woman, Teyrness Cousland."

Yvaine looked at the witch in amazement, though she was hardly surprised that she knew more about her than she knew about the witch.

"In all my years, I have never come across someone like you," said Flemeth, a gentleness creeping into her voice as she spoke.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" retorted Yvaine, her remark made the old witch laugh.

"That remains to be seen," replied Flemeth with a wry smile. "You should know, however, there is a greatness in you. You have been given the potential to do many great deeds, though whether they are good or evil is entirely up to you, few people are born with this. Fewer are born with your spirit, too. I wish you luck, Yvaine, and hope my observations lead you down the right path."

Yvaine nodded and then crossed her arms, bowing to the Witch of the Wilds. They then walked back to the others in mutual silence, Yvaine pondering Flemeth's words and Flemeth wondering why the girl had bowed to her when she was the Grey Warden and the noble. Morrigan was just emerging as they approached, a scowl on her brow when she saw her mother again.

"Are you ready, Morrigan?" asked Yvaine kindly, drawing the witch's attention away from her mother.

Morrigan nodded. "As ready as one can be expected when they are so quickly kicked out of their home." She glared darkly at her mother before turning back to Yvaine. "Since we are to be traveling together, I offer you our first destination. There is a village a couple hour's journey to the north, 'tis small and insignificant but has shops that would give us access to needed supplies and a tavern that might serve as a means of gathering information."

"What's the name of this village?" asked Fergus, his arms crossed against his chest.

"I believe they call it Lothering, though I might be mistaken," replied Morrigan.

A large smile spread across Yvaine's lips, she glanced back at Fergus who returned her smile in equal measure. "Do you think . . .?"

"Possibly," said Fergus excitedly.

"Should we?"

"I don't see why not."

"Then it's settled!" exclaimed Yvaine to the confusion of Alistair and Morrigan.

"What?" asked Alistair. "What's been decided?"

"Yes, I would also like to know," said Morrigan impatiently.

Yvaine waved them off. "I'll tell you after we leave, when we're closer to Lothering."

Morrigan nodded, then turned to her mother. "Dear sweet Mother, how kind it is of you to toss me out like this, how I shall cherish this moment."

"You know what I say, Morrigan, if you want something done right, do it yourself or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," replied Flemeth, unperturbed by her daughter's harsh words.

"At any rate, Mother, don't forget the stew, I don't want to be returning from my adventure to see nothing but a scorch mark on the ground," said Morrigan, the concern for her mother shining through the sarcasm of her words.

Flemeth snorted. "If this Blight is not dealt with, it is likely a scorch mark on the earth will be the least of your problems."

Morrigan's face fell. "I . . . all I meant was . . ."

"I know, child," said Flemeth gently. "Now be off with you, there is a Blight to deal with, yes? Or did it end when I wasn't looking?"

Yvaine nodded and followed the path away from the hut, towards the Wilds, Morrigan was walking in step with her acting as a silent guide leading them through paths that normally were hidden to the typical passerby. She looked back at Fergus and Alistair, they seemed tired but well, given how mangled her strategy had left them the previous night. Somehow she caught Alistair's eye and he grinned at her, the warmth from his smile spreading through her body like honey, she found herself smiling back at him though very aware that Fergus was watching them. She turned her attention back to the road, they had already lost sight of the hut and were nearing what appeared to be the edge of the Wilds. Beyond the trees were the grasslands of Ferelden but all Yvaine could see was death as she thought about the approaching Blight and how the fate of the kingdom rested on her shoulders.