First, for those following Beyond the Sylvan Paths, I promise to update soon. I've hit a minor writer's block - I know where I want it to go, I'm just having trouble finding the words. I've been so full of this story lately that I have only been poking at Paths.

I am so happy with the response the last chapter - or rather, Lady Cousland's appearance has elicited. This chapter is mainly fluff, and also a setting a direction or two for other aspects of the story. Hope it meets with your approval…

As always, I so very much appreciate the alerts, favorites and reviews!: Nithu, Arsinoe de Blassenville, tgail73, CCBug, Biff McLaughlin

Ahm…what did I forget? Oh yeah, I do not own this. Actually, other than my house and car, I don't own anything of any significance, especially this awesome universe.

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 34

Sitting cross legged on the floor, the heavy woolen blanket wrinkled beneath her, Adela concentrated upon the figure she had been working on for weeks. Rubbing the pad of her thumb along the squared edges, she gently blew the ivory dust away, clearing out the grooves along the bulky form. Thea, Josef's elder sister by two years, sat beside her, her reddish blond head bent over the wood she had been working on, creating her own masterpiece, one for her mother. Adela glanced over at her 'student' a wide smile upon her lips. The girl had the talent and desire to create truly marvelous works. If she had remained as the 'property' of the cult, the poor thing would never have realized her potential as anything other than a brood mare. Adelaine had been pleased beyond words when Adela had offered to tutor the girl.

The front door whooshed open, and Adela's blond head looked up, tucking her own work down to her lap, watching as the figure passed by her doorway. It was Niall, apparently returned from checking up on Brother Genetivi, who had insisted upon remaining with a small family in the house just down the hill a bit. He insisted that he did not wish to be a burden, considering Adela's own need for recuperation. Zevran and Niall were both of a mind that the lovely mother of the brood of five had something more to do with it. As Niall waved a hello and then continued on his way passed her door, she breathed a sigh of relief and resumed her work. It wouldn't do for the one to whom her current work was for to walk in before it was finished.

A smile crossed her lovely features as she stretched her legs out, relishing in the feel of tendons lengthening and the aches releasing. They were approaching the dead of winter, and Adela's strength had returned after careful, tedious and painful work. However, her companions still did not allow her to help out around the village, and kept her confined to the Chantry. She knew that Alistair, especially after telling him of her childhood, felt guilty about so restricting her movements. However, as had been told to her throughout her younger years and was now being repeated by those who cared for her well being, it was for her own good. Never one given to tantrums, the young woman still felt petulant and at times displayed a remarkable ability toward ill humor. Even Alistair would avoid her on her more grumpy days.

Today, however, found her in as good a humor as she had ever been. With Thea's visit and a resumption of her art, the elf found a renewed sense of worth as she worked the ivory. Perhaps in another day or two it would be ready for presentation.

DA:O

Roland kept casting glances back at Elissa, watching as she moved, back straight and haughty, beside Leliana. He was slightly surprised that Elissa managed to remain immune to the bard's usually winning charm. However, the noblewoman seemed determined to ignore everyone in the group, save when she attempted giving orders to those very same people. He was more amazed that no tantrums had resulted in those companions refusing to give in to the woman's demands. At one point, Roland had to pull the noblewoman aside and explain that these folks were not her vassals nor servants, but warriors on an important quest to stop the Blight. Meeting her dark glare with his level stare, he waited until she backed down. With a huff, she resumed her position in line, shooting glares at the former knight's straight back.

Bodahn had accepted the woman's manner with easy grace, grinning away as he supplied her with a tent and bedroll from his stock. On the sly, he had told Roland that he found human nobles to be far less demanding and easier to please then dwarven nobles, especially if you met their ridiculous demands with a smile and a nod. Clapping the dwarf on the back, the former knight thanked the merchant for seeing to the lady's comfort. To which the merchant chuckled. "Coin is coin, my friend. The gold spends regardless of whose hand it is taken."

The former knight shook his red head, turning his attention back to the road. They had one, perhaps two more days left in their journey to Redcliffe, barring any further interruptions or attacks along the way. He sincerely hoped that Elissa would remain civil during that time. He had no concern for Leliana. The Orlesian was gracious and patient almost to a fault. And the Sten would simply ignore the noblewoman with his usual stoicism. He did notice that Hafter had taken a sound dislike to the woman, but the hound remained at Roland's side (much to the man's surprise), and would not attack someone who was part of their group.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he shook his head. The jocularity that had formed among the group - even on the Sten's part - had evaporated upon Elissa's inclusion to the group. Once they arrived at Redcliffe, the sheer size of the castle and the village nearby should be enough to put distance between Elissa and the others.

Or, so he hoped.

DA:O

She sat across from his desk, merely watching as he sat, his long fingers steepled at his forehead, his eyes half closed in thought. He knew she was simply waiting, as she always did, with that patience she learned during her service to king and country. Learned under his tutelage. Anger barely under control, the mage lifted his head to stare into those deep, brown eyes of the woman he loved.

A straight brow twitched and raised in question. Arawn frowned, rising to his feet. She knew what was angering him. She just wasn't certain what he was going to do about it.

Over the past month, Loghain had managed to break free of the Fade prison he had so carefully constructed around the Teyrn. Whenever he was placed in sleep, his soul would be drawn to the prison, and kept there until such time as the body of the man was needed. Then, using a vial of Loghain's blood, Arawn was able to control the body, voice and movements of the man, all while the strength of the man's personality and soul remained in the background, giving what it could to the control the blood mage exerted over him, but unable to fight to break free of that hold.

Somehow, he had managed to break free of the sleep induced prison three times over the course of two weeks.

The mage finally allowed the building snarl to escape, and it was then Cauthrien rose to her feet, moving with quick, efficient grace to stand beside him, a strong hand settled upon his forearm. He looked over into her plain features, intelligent eyes and steady posture. Then there was a sigh, and he leaned over and kissed her lightly upon one cheek.

"Is there nothing more that you can do to control him?" she asked. Arawn smiled over at her, knowing she knew that if he had an answer he would not necessarily tell her. Her eyes remained upon his face, obviously trying to see if any answer lay therein. With a final sigh, she leaned over and kissed him, then took her leave.

The blood mage watched his lover leave, quietly closing the door behind her, and then settled back at the desk. The option before him was…undesirable. However, with Howe firmly ensconced at the Arl's manor, and his penchant for…unsavory games, he was certain the man could provide him with the fodder he would need for the ritual he needed to perform. Rising, he made his decision, and set off to meet with his ally.

He was certain the Teyrn would be able to provide him with many elves that would be suitable….

DA:O

The clang of metal upon metal rang throughout the chapel of the Chantry, echoing off the stone walls. The pews had been removed as well as the altar, converting part of the largest room in the building into a sparring chamber. Alistair leaned back against the doorframe, watching as the two elves worked through their sparring routine. Zevran was taking it very easy on Adela, who had only been on her feet for the past week without assistance. She had insisted upon the sparring sessions, to which the elven assassin agreed only if she would let him know when she became too tired to continue on. Alistair chuckled as he recalled her raising that brow of hers, replying, "And I supposed our enemies will allow me to catch my breath should I become overtired?" Zevran merely met that stare with one of his own, but insisted upon the compromise. The elven warden had merely sighed, and then agreed.

Now, she moved with almost the careful grace they were all accustomed to seeing her move with, her daggers flying and spinning, meeting each and every one of the Zevran's practiced blows. Her feet were still a bit wobbly, and Alistair noticed that Zev did not take advantage and push his benefit, but merely remained in place, concentrating of her hand-eye coordination before mixing footwork into the dance.

The ex-templar had to admit it - allowing the ex-Crow into their ragtag team had been one of the best decisions the elven warden had made. And that was saying a lot - Adela seldom made terrible decisions.

He grinned - well, except whenever she was trying to save time, that is.

He heard Zevran curse slightly and turned his attention back to the pair. Apparently, Adela had managed to out step the other elf, and was now grinning down upon his prone figure, her daggers each at his throat as he lay upon his back. Zevran chuckled, raising his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. Laughing, she reached down to assist him to his feet. Zevran playfully slapped her hands away, pushing himself up on his own power. Alistair saw the slight frown upon Adela's lips, but she said nothing as the other elf straightened before her.

Adela's recovery had been amazing in its quickness. She was by no means back up to the strength she had been, but she was, he hazarded a guess, where she had been at the time she found herself standing under the ancient archways of Ostagar. With at least two more months of winter, during which time they would not be able to travel, Alistair was confident his fellow warden would be back up to the fighting form she had been prior to their battle with the high dragon. He grinned as he looked over at the scales Zevran had insisted upon harvesting from the dragon's body. They would either fetch a decent price at an armory or make a splendid suit of armor. His smile widened as his gaze wandered to his sleeping chambers, thinking of the pack he had stuffed with the softer, more malleable drake scales. He knew of a certain armory in Denerim that he meant to call upon once they were able to make it back to the capital.

Later that night found Alistair sitting in his chair in Adela's room, waiting for her return. Niall and Morrigan had been called to one of the homes wherein one of the few pregnant women was expecting to give birth soon, Zevran accompanying them. Adela had been on dinner duty that evening, and was finishing up cleaning. Alistair had offered to help, but she had told him, without doubt, that she did not need his assistance and that since he got to go out and about during the day, he could suffer through a few moments without her while she did the dishes. Grinning, he left the room and settled down to watch the fire.

While he sat, he thought. He had been confused of late with her. Before, their friendship had been so easy - they could hug or hold each other, and he never noticed any hesitance on her part. It had been like that practically since they met those months ago at Ostagar. These past few days, however, she would pull away more often, unable to meet his eyes. She had even made certain that his room had been set up, and he ended up spending less time in her company as she insisted that he spend his nights in his room. The young man had assumed that she had been falling in love with Roland as the other knight had been making clear overtures of courting the pretty elf. She had said several times that she missed the knight's company, and had even voiced her displeasure at Alistair's recruiting the young man into the Wardens. And, while Alistair had thought he had come to terms early on in their relationship that the elven lass would only ever be his friend, he knew that he had been lying to himself. He loved her. And, despite his taking a more forward role in putting his feelings out to her, he still felt as though he would be the one losing.

The door, that had been slightly ajar, was pushed open, and Adela walked quietly into the room. She cast her fellow Warden a shy smile and hurried over to where her crafting supplies lay. He watched as she dragged a wrapped bundle from her pack, and silently hoped she was not going to ask him to leave her room so soon. Every night for the past week she had been insistent upon his leaving, and he found he was missing her almost as much as he did while she was unconscious.

This night, however, was obviously different. She turned her smile - that radiant smile that Alistair knew was for him and him alone - upon him and he found himself grinning widely back.

"This is for you," she said, thrusting the package into his hands. Astonished, he looked at the bundle of cloth wrapped around an object that felt harder than wood, but not as strong as stone. He raised a questioning eyebrow, but she merely met the gesture with a wave of her hand. As he began to unroll it, Adela sank to the floor by his feet, watching eagerly as he unwrapped the object.

As the white of the ivory was revealed, and the object wrapped in the cloth came further into view, Alistair's hands paused, his eyes staring with disbelief at the item that Adela had crafted for him. He raised his eyes, seeking out the elf's blues, and he saw her grin at the astonished expression that most assuredly was set upon his features. Carefully, he pulled out the figure, his fingers running over the etched carving as he pulled it free of its bundle.

"Adela…" he whispered as he gazed at the figure that she had carved for him. The white and gray of the ivory blended and swirled over the square form, and she had carved out individual 'stones' along the length. Strong arms hung at its sides - one straight down the side, the other held out slightly, it's four fingered palm held up and flat. She had even managed to set within two eye sockets black onyx, and the golem's mouth was set in a long, grim line. Turning the figure over, he examined every inch, grinning away as moisture formed in his eyes. When he looked back to Adela, he saw that her eyes as well had gathered an amount of moisture. When she noticed he was looking at her, her eyes shifted shyly away for a moment.

"I was going by memory," the elf said as she rose to her knees, leaning against Alistair's legs as she ran a long fingered hand along the golem's head. "I had seen a drawing of one in a book Maric had shown me as a child." She lifted her eyes to his. "Apparently, there had been a mage with them who had a golem." Her shoulders gave a slight shrug. "I don't know if it's anything like the one you had as a child, but…" Her sentence ended with a squeak as Alistair pulled her onto his lap and into his arms, hugging her tightly to him. Laughing, she hugged him back for a moment.

"I take it you like it?" she asked after a few moments, still tightly wrapped in the human's arms. She felt his head nod against hers, and she giggled slightly, closing her eyes.

"Thank you," Alistair whispered into her hair, just above one delicate ear. "You have no idea how much this means…" his voice broke slightly here, and he flushed with embarrassment. "Really," he pulled her back at arm's length, staring into her eyes. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Still smiling, Adela brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, not quite meeting his open and frank gaze. "I'm glad you like it, Alistair."

"'Like' isn't a strong enough word, Del," Alistair smirked as she rolled her eyes at the nickname he had come up with. She hated it, and he knew it. It was difficult enough for the elf to call Zevran 'Zev', a shortening of his name the male elf insisted upon her using. Having her own name shortened irked her.

He could, however, see the tiny lift at the corners of her mouth, so he knew she wasn't upset with him. His attention went back to cataloging the details of the golem figure the elf had crafted for him. Adela rose to her feet and wandered to the fireplace, tossing a log on top of the existing pile. Alistair snuck a look at her, noting that she had her body turned from him, her head bowed somewhat. The hands holding the figure went to his lap and he took the opportunity to study the elven woman standing before the fire.

She was wearing her hair down and loose, it falling to her waist in a golden cascade, curling slightly around her shoulders and arms. The firelight danced along its length, giving it a reddish tinge and silhouetting her face and slender form beautifully. He suppressed a sigh. Her body was rigid, and she seemed to be staring off into the flames as though in a dream. Unable to take the changes in Adela's demeanor - which could drastically change from open friendship to this more closed wall - any longer, he rose from his chair, and stepped over to the elven woman.

As he neared, he noticed that she had shifted her body slightly so that he could not look into her face. Squelching the hurt that rose in his chest, the young man stepped to her side, watching her bowed head.

Alistair's face bent down to Adela's, watching as an array of emotions - surprise, concern, confusion - crossed her beautifully expressive face.

"Tell me what is wrong," he encouraged, crouching down to better see her eyes, eyes she kept hiding from him. She merely shook her head, unable to respond, turning her body slightly away from him, swallowing hard but not speaking.

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Is it about Roland?" He noticed Adela went still at that, and he just plunged ahead. "Look, if…I know that he loves you," her head tilted toward him slightly. "And, although I can't say I'm happy about….well, you being with anyone else," he shook his head, turning away. "Adela, you know how I feel about you. I've never hidden the fact that I…well, I care - no, I love you," he turned back and was surprised that she was watching him, her blue eyes dark, full lips slightly parted. "But, if Roland makes you happy…" he faltered, finding it difficult to get the words passed his lips, and cursed himself as tears fell to his cheeks. Oh, great powerful warrior I am! He scolded himself.

She turned toward him then, taking the step necessary to place herself directly in front of him. Placing her hands on his chest and lifting her pretty face to his, she frowned at the tears, and raised a delicate hand - a hand becoming increasingly calloused from battle - to wipe them away. In a very small, soft voice, she said, "I am very sorry for my…wandering moods. I have been trying to figure out some…surprising thoughts that have recently come up. But, I do not love Roland."

He could not express the relief that flowed through him at that admission. However, if it was not Roland, then it had to be…

She raised on her toes, bringing her face close to his down turned visage.

"I love you," and then she kissed him, a simple chaste kiss placed very lightly upon his mouth. It surprised the young man, who stared down at the elf as she moved away. The words finally seemed to register in his mind. She said she loved me. His eyes brightened, and he scooped her into his arms, pulling her up, his mouth coming down to capture hers in an ecstatic kiss. He felt her slender arms wrap around his neck, pressing her body against his as she returned the kiss at first shyly, and then as their lips lingered upon each other, with enthusiasm. They broke free, gasping slightly.

Heart pounding rapidly, the blood rushing in his ears, all Alistair could do was grin goofily at the woman still in his arms. "That…that wasn't too soon, was it?" he asked the only words that popped into his head.

Adela giggled at him, swatting at his arm. "Silly. I started it." A pink flush rose, touching her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

"Hmmm…right, forgot that part," he grinned down at her, his heart bursting for her. "Maker's breath," he breathed, lightly kissing her lips again, rejoicing that he could kiss her in such a manner without seeming too brash. "but you are beautiful."

Her blush deepened, and he could not resist. A gentle finger traced the delicate curves of her ear, an ear he had wanted to touch for so long it was almost torture. Her eyes closed, her lips parted as her breathing increased, her head tilting to his touch. Then a slender hand captured his hand, pulling it down. "Alistair," she breathed, her eyes opening part way. "Elven ears are very….sensitive." her eyes were dark with passion, and it took the young man just a moment to understand exactly what she meant by that. His own face flushed considerably as his grin widened.

"Ah, good to know," he said playfully, kissing her again, staring into her face. "I am a lucky man, Adela." He pulled her to him in a hug, kissing the top of her head. Her arms released his neck and he felt a moment of dismay at the loss of contact. That dismay turned to pleasure as she tucked her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer to him, snuggling her face into his chest.

"So," he said, finally breaking the embrace, his voice husky with emotion. "When did you figure out that you went for the tall, blond and goofy types?"

Giggling at his self deprecation, Adela raised her face to his. "I'm really not sure," she admitted, tipping her head back a bit to watch his eyes. "I liked you from the first time we met. You were sweet." she poked him in the side when he rolled his eyes at that. "But, I was…confused. I thought I loved another," her head tilted down somewhat.

"Loghain," Alistair offered, having known for some time of the girl's feelings for the older man.

She nodded, raising her head again. "It was a girlish crush I have had for him since I was a child. He saved my life, made me a part of his in small gestures. He treated me as an equal in all things. But," she shook her head. "truly, what do I have in common with him?"

A small frown formed on her face, and Alistair resisted the urge to kiss it away, as he truly wanted to hear this. "I kept telling myself that I loved him, and that any feelings I had for you was purely friendship. But," her smile returned, "you are just so insidious! You get under the skin and are so silly at times, yet at other times you are so capable and assured. You don't mind being playful…I just couldn't get you out of my head, and then eventually I realized I couldn't get you out of my heart."

She smiled softly. "I woke up from the battle with the dragon, there you were, by my side as always. And, it felt so…right. Like that's where you needed to be, where I needed to be. By each other's sides. And, not just in battle." She shrugged. "Papa used to tell me that was how it was for he and Mamae, the feeling of being incomplete without each other. Papa feels it to this day." She paused then, in thought, as she thought of her parents.

"I am sorry for my erratic behavior," there was an apology in her voice and Alistair smiled at it. She raised on her toes again to kiss him lightly on the lips. "I was afraid to say anything or even really allow myself to understand my feelings because I felt like I was being fickle." A hand waved slightly. "Thinking I was in love with one man, but then realizing I loved another." She frowned. "I never wanted to be a fickle woman."

Alistair blinked, and then laughed, pulling her to him. "That's not being fickle, you silly girl!" he bent and kissed her again, deciding he was definitely enjoying that. "You said it yourself: you had a childhood crush. It's natural to have such feelings for someone who has been a part of your life." he smiled gently, running a finger along her jaw line and up her cheek. "I'm just glad you realized that it was a girlhood crush and that it was me that you had feelings for." His grin widened. "I don't know what I would have to do if I had to continue competing with Roland."

"Oh?" she grinned up at him.

"Sure. An old man who betrayed king and country?" He did not notice Adela's flinch at that. "I can compete with that. But an almost equally handsome and jovial Knight from Highever?" he feigned a shudder, causing Adela to giggle, "I may have had to actually work for that!"

Her smile widened, her eyes were bright as she looked up into Alistair's happy face. "I love you, Alistair." she said again, smiling as his face relaxed, his amber eyes darkening slightly.

"And I," he pulled her closer, bringing his mouth to her, "love you," he whispered against her lips before capturing them in another lingering kiss.