Chapter 45- Malcolm's Honour

I have returned and I will be giving up more time to focus on my fan fiction story!

So, this is my first part of Malcolm Hawke's diary! This is basically just a tester chapter and I would appreciate feedback – if you don't like this idea I can cut it out until it's needed to the story but I thought I'd start leaking a few explanations and I love the idea of giving Malcolm a bit of context! But the next Malcolm chapter will have a lot more information (Quentin etc.)

Thank you for all of your reviews/favourites/follows! Everything in general, you guys have been great and I can't believe this fan fic is almost eleven months old! Wow!

Big shout out to my beta LostSpace for all her work with this!

9:00 Dragon 5th Wintermarch

This is not how I expected freedom to taste. It is anticlimactic, to say the least. I seemed to have created a hyperbole of a world in my mind. It hasn't changed since the last time I was free. And that was when I was a boy, long before my magic manifested. I find myself lost, wondering where to go and what to do now and in an odd way I sort of revel in it. No timetable, no curfew… Only the constant worry that Alex has actually tattled on me and the templars are an hour's journey behind me. If it is the latter then I will have the damned fool's head before they smack a sun on mine. Hopefully they won't do that, I'm sure I can charm my way into a transfer. The First Enchanter seemed impressed by my research and theoretical studies. But I had to leave that tower, too many rules and regulations. It is wondrous that out in the open here I do not have to put in a request form to merely practice a healing glyph! Though freedom is wondrous I am starting to sorely miss the cooked food and warm bed that was always waiting for me. I suppose being locked in the circle has made me far too comfortable.

I've made good time today; I'm about half a day away from the small village of Lothering. I asked a traveller for directions – trying my damned hardest to hide my circle robes- and he said the best place for trade so close was Lothering. I'm going to trade whatever I hunt in exchange for clothes and some weapons. The people out of the Circle truly despise magic as if it were born from the blight itself and I must make sure they do not see me for what I am. This will require some training with a sword also. I really have not thought this quest for freedom through at all.

I have heard that there are mages seeking refuge close to Redcliffe, though it does make me wonder if it is true with it being so close to the Arling and the templars being ever vigilant as they are. I guess there is only one way to find out. Here goes freedom, for as long as it lasts.

9:00 Dragon 7th Wintermarch

I sold my ram leather and fennec fur to a local trader in exchange for a dagger that is more like an extravagant pen knife and some black clothing with a leather chest guard. It's better than I thought it would be; now I am not running around with the word apostate stamped on my head. I still need supplies, however, and I do not want to linger in the open for too long. No doubt the fool templars have sent out a battalion of dolts to try and find me and bring me back. Or worse… But I try to stray away from the negativities of these things because I heard some good news today that apparently the Korcari Wilds is full of elfroot and other herbs. The downside is that there is apparently a Witch of the Wilds and the Chasind folk who like to obliterate intruders on their land. I've escaped one of the biggest prisons in Ferelden; I think the risk is more than worth it.

9:00 Dragon 8th Wintermarch

The villagers were right about the herbs, there are plenty here, more than enough for my journey. I am quickly setting camp before returning and then moving towards Orzammar in the hope of continuing my work. I should have known that the First Enchanter would have no use of it –though he was impressed to begin with- as soon as I explained that this could unlock our own freedoms he tried to silence me with warnings of treason. How is it treason to aid both templars and mages? I hope that if I ever have the right to spawn a child that they will live in a world where they do not have to hide. Mages have for far too long been labelled as the filth that defiles the Maker. My work has the potential to create a network of knowledge and of understanding- a main hub of arcane knowledge- and those at the Circle forbade me from even thinking of it!

I need to rest, my temper is getting the better of me and I fear there is something watching me as I scribble into my vellum furiously. Hopefully it's just the ram's wife seeking revenge for my clumsy slaughter of its other half.

9:00 Dragon, 11th Wintermarch

It was not the ram's wife.

It most definitely wasn't. The villagers had spoken about the Witch of the Wilds and of course I had taken their warnings in jest.

I wandered for a few days, past ancient ruins and enjoyed the freedom that radiated from the place's very soul. The Fade was thin here and I could almost taste the memories of the spirits that wandered alongside me. It was then when I stumbled by a hut by a small pond -in good repair may I add- and sitting outside the hut was a woman with a wicked grin and stark yellow eyes. If ever there was a time I doubted my own powers it was in the presence of this woman. She smiled at me and told me to sit and asked me about my research nonchalantly, offering me a drink and a slice of bread whilst she dealt with the small child that seemed to beg for her attention. After shooing the toddler away and distracting the little girl with what I hope was a biscuit and not a flattened out piece of dung, she continued her talk. I was growing more and more alarmed at the woman's knowledge and then when I was about to bid her farewell she said my name. She said "Not so fast, Malcolm Hawke" and it was then I realised why the villagers didn't want the herbs that badly. She told me to leave my path, to forget my work and to return back to the Circle. She claimed that I would start a chain of events that not even "my" Maker could stop. I refused.

Maker, I refused her stupid request. Why should I have to lock myself away just because the daft old bat is set in her ways and doesn't want anyone disturbing her and her granddaughter –I am praying that it is her granddaughter because I would sorely feel for the man who spawned with the old hag, though mildly impressed the old girl's still got enough in her to birth a child- who is she to decide the fate of others?

She claimed she was Flemeth, or more commonly known in text books as Asha'bellanar- the woman of many years- and me of course being the prat that I am- decided to go against a woman who claimed to be Flemeth with a bloody pen knife and a ball of fire. She laughed at the sight of me and I really don't blame the woman. I think if I was rumoured to be one of the most powerful creatures in Thedas and was challenged by a twenty year old man who has only just stopped wearing a dress I'd laugh too.

She stopped laughing and became serious then; she looked at the child playing with a crow that cawed to the child's amusement. "By your own actions will you cage your bird and even I cannot stop the wolf that will prowl, but you make your own destiny! Now, carry on with your quest, lad! Leave before I change my mind, you're stirring a hunger that I thought had been quelled and I must be responsible for the little one!"

I don't know what to think of the woman, apart from that she spoke in too many riddles, as if she enjoyed watching me squirm. If she was Flemeth, then she should have killed me when she had the chance. I will never allow my magic to be squandered; it is not to serve which is most base in me.

I wonder where the templars have gotten to. I half expected them to have caught me by now.