I am not seeking to make social commentary with this story nor be an advocate for a cause. If I wanted to write something serious, I'd go be a biographer, an advocacy writer or a historian. Maybe one of those 'self help' authors. But I'm not. I write fantasy; this story is set in a make believe world of magic, demons, and darkspawn. Oh, and Arl Eamon.

Thank you for taking the time for your reviews: fighter chicks (I appreciate it when people take the time to make their thoughts heard, even if I do not agree or like what they say - although I do prefer signed reviews so that a dialogue can be commenced regarding same), Biff McLaughlin, CCBug, Nithu, Eriana10, Arsinoe de Blassenville (you should really, really read these ladies' stories - they are wonderful!), tgail73, xXBeninekoXx

Now, to continue with the story…this chapter is supposed to be mostly fun, with a few other scenes to keep the other plots moving along (all right, it's an emotional roller coaster! I was bored!). It's also designed to get the group left at Haven through the winter as well as grow and develop the relationship between Alistair and Adela. There was an ongoing theme I had noticed from in game that I am including herein. The next update will be a while, however, as I'm kind of in a writer's block, and my other stories are demanding some attention.

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 37

He stared about him, unsteady and disoriented. Surrounded by a field of swirling gray mist, standing upon a gray surface at once hard as stone yet soft underfoot. He placed one tentative foot in front of him, testing the stone, finding the footing solid. Gem blue eyes gazed upwards as he turned, trying to get a sense of direction. All he saw was the unending gray mist.

He vaguely remembered being strapped down and that Maker be damned ritual that the human mage had cast. The identity of the human tied down next to him was unknown to him, but he figured that he may well meet up with the man, and perhaps, together, they could figure out where they were and how they could get out. A long, slender hand tapped his hip, and the elf wished fervently he had a weapon - a dagger or a sword. Even a stick at this point would make him feel less ill at ease. A great sigh escaped his lips, and he gazed about him. There was no help for it - he could either stand here for Maker knew how long or he could try and seek a way to better his predicament.

Picking a direction - he could not be certain of what bearing he was headed - he turned and began walking, looking for any landmark, any break in the endless gray that surrounded him.

DA:O

Adela was…well…she was bored. Alone in her chambers, without even any decent reading material, she stared blankly at the ivory she held in her hand. She had started the carving weeks before they had arrived at Haven, however she just could not find the ambition to work on it. It was almost as though the vision that had inspired her had just…left.

She scowled, carefully placing the item back into her pouch. Rising, she stalked to the window, glaring out at the gently falling snow. The others had gone out: Zevran was hunting and scouting, Niall and Morrigan making their rounds as the only healers in the village, and Alistair was checking on the repairs he had made to several of the homes (she frowned. She believed he said he would be at Adelaine's house). Each and every one of them, prior to making their own exits, had instructed the elf to not leave the Chantry as she was still not completed recuperated from her injuries, and had developed a slight cough during her convalescence. How would they know? She felt fine. And she wanted out!

Moping, she flopped into Alistair's chair, feeling a slight sense of triumph that she was sitting in his chair without his permission. She was the leader, after all! Why did they think they could tell her what she could and could not do? With a peevish pout, she rose, picked up her daggers and stomped from the room.

In the chamber that had once served as the chapel, leaning against the far rear wall stood several combat dummies Alistair and Zevran had put together for practice. With a heavy sigh, the tiny elf tugged and pulled and struggled with one of the dummies, turning and spinning it upon its pedestal until it sat in center of the practice area. Glaring at the unoffending mannequin, she pulled her daggers and began stabbing, slashing and slicing at the straw stuffed dummy. After about an hour, she stood, panting heavily, leaning her hands to her knees, trying to catch her breath. She was exhausted and achy, but still bored.

She just really wanted to go outside and play in the snow.

Her blond head turned toward the heavy double doors that led to relative freedom from the stifling closeness of the building. She was the leader, after all, she reminded herself yet again. With a wince she straightened, rolled her shoulders to work out the stiffness. She went to her room and pulled out a heavy cloak and her fur lined boots. Grinning, feeling like a rambunctious child who found a way around parental rule, she pulled these on. Sheathing her daggers, she practically ran to the doors, feeling a sense of relief as her hands grasped the knobs, twisted them and getting ready to pull them open.

She was thrown off balance as the doors suddenly and unexpectedly swished open. Stumbling back from the doors, she watched as the large, snow covered and cloaked figure of Alistair stomped in, clearing the snow from his boots as he shook his cloak. She grimaced when his eyes fixed upon her, and a disapproving frown crossed his face. Feeling like a petulant child, the elven woman stood there, forcing a defiant glare to her eyes.

"What were you doing?" Alistair asked as he pushed the doors shut behind him.

Raising her chin slightly, Adela responded, "I was going outside."

Shaking his head at her, he placed a large hand to her elbow and steered her back inside. "Oh, no you were not," he scolded, moving her along with a gentle push. "You were already told you needed to remain inside until Niall and Morrigan were both satisfied you were fully recovered."

"But…" she began, but Alistair just shook his head as he reached over and unfastened her cloak, pulling it free from her shoulders.

"No 'buts'," his grin widened as he saw the rebellious look in her blue eyes. "Those are your orders, Adela."

Glaring at him, she yanked her cloak from his hands, and, with a toss of her head, stomped back to her room and slammed the door behind her.

Standing in the main chamber of the Chantry, Alistair just laughed as he shook his head.

DA:O

Elissa stretched out in the large tub, enjoying the heat of the soft, scented water that surrounded her. Leaning her head back against the tub's rounded edge, she thought back to her conversation with Arl Eamon. The offer he had made was intriguing, and she smirked at the plan the wily old politician had detailed. He truly thought she would be interested in a union with a boy who was not even an acknowledged heir of Maric. Ah, well, it would prove interesting, however she decided to play it.

She shrugged, bringing the sponge up and squeezing the water from it. How she enjoyed the finer things in life. The months she had spent on the road and in the wilds since she left Highever Castle had been rough, to put it mildly. She had been unable to locate any allies, and the darkspawn emergence had hindered her progress even further. She had been very pleased when she happened upon the wardens and their group, and watched and waited for them to separate from the annoying little elven woman. As soon as she spotted Ser Gilmore and his rather eclectic troupe she decided it was time to make her presence known. She knew that she would have had a far more difficult time insinuating herself in the group had the knife-eared wench been about.

A sigh brushed passed her lips as she frowned. She had forgotten Ser Gilmore's desire to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens, having dismissed it as inconsequential at the time of Duncan's visit to her family home. That would make it far more difficult to control him, as he was no longer sworn to her family, but was now a recruit of an organization that owed fealty to no one - noble, king or country. However, that he brought her to Arl Eamon was a stroke of good luck on her part.

Especially where it seemed that the nobleman had a wish to make an alliance with her.

Yes, yes, she grinned as she moved forward, dunking her head under the water and began to wash her long hair. Things would turn out quite nicely for her, and keep her from becoming too bored during the winter months.

DA:O

All five fireplaces within the Chantry were blazing, filling the building with soothing, penetrating heat. Outside the fortress-like walls snow fell in a blizzard as the wind howled and moaned around the building, the winter's breath whistling over the chimney tops with a fury.

Winter was now three months strong and this latest storm had been expected, at least on the villagers' part. The villagers had warned the wardens and their companions that winter could last four to five months in the mountains, and Alistair found himself briefly regretting the decision he and Roland had made with regards to how long to wait for winter to pass. With the timeline the two men had worked out, Roland and his companions, if they decided to return to Haven, could very well find themselves in the midst of another storm.

"Oh, Maker," Alistair bemoaned as they sat eating that evening's meal as another, more personal thought, hit him. Morrigan and Niall sat on the other side of Adela, with Zevran seated across from the male mage. They all looked over at the human warden as he said, "Roland is going to kill me."

Morrigan actually giggled a little at that, having a good idea as to what the ex-templar referred to. Her eyes widened innocently at Adela's questioning look.

"Why in the world would Roland kill you?" the elf asked of Alistair as she lifted the spoon to her lips.

"Yes, Alistair," Morrigan all but purred, obviously taking pleasure in the man's ill ease. "Do tell our fearless leader what transpired prior to the knight's departure."

"Alistair?" Adela was now concerned as she lowered her spoon.

"It's not as bad as Morrigan is trying to make it out," he sulked, obviously forgetting his own exclamation that started the entire conversation. "When it was obvious we'd need to remain put while you recovered, I thought that you would want us to get the ashes to the Arl as quickly as possible. So, I told Roland, Leliana and the Sten to continue on to Redcliffe and we would wait here while you recovered."

Nodding her head, the elf responded. "And I agreed completely with that decision." She did not see where the trouble was.

"Yeah, well," he smiled briefly, and continued. "Roland wouldn't hear of it. He flat out refused to follow my lead, and told me that the only way he'd listen to any commands that were not yours was if I recruited him into the Grey Wardens."

Adela's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, Alistair. I seem to recall you telling me about that decision as well," her displeasure at recruiting Roland was still evident in her voice, and Alistair found himself wincing slightly.

Nodding his head emphatically, wondering just how much trouble he was in, Alistair replied, "Well, remember that it was at his insistence." He shrugged. "He had already all but been recruited into the Wardens by Duncan. He was determined to continue as such, and took the opportunity to make it official." Alistair frowned at the elf. "After all, although the matter had been brought up before, you never fully answered him."

Staring down at her bowl, she nodded. "I know." She sighed. "I just…purposefully subjecting someone…" she trailed off, fully aware that non-warden ears were wide open. Regardless of what she may feel, she was not about to willingly expose any secrets. She sighed. "Its okay, Alistair. We already had this talk, and I understand why you did what you did. Really, I'm fine with it."

With a flourish of her hand, she bade Alistair to continue, pointedly ignoring Morrigan's chuckle as the witch resumed her meal.

"I, ah, told him that I wasn't sending him off to, ah, get him out of the picture," he ducked his head slightly as Adela's head whipped up in astonishment. Her eyes wide, she then understood the source of Alistair's discomfort.

"Oh," was all she said, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' as the circumstance fully settled. Then, smiling beatifically at the man she loved, she said, "Just blame me." She began spooning the stew into her mouth in earnest. "Problem solved."

"Excuse me?" Alistair quipped, leaning forward, a grin on his face. "Do you really want me to say that?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she nodded. "Why not? I'm kind of getting used to being blamed for everything anyway." Then she grinned, leaning forward to place a kiss on the man's lips. "After all, you can tell him that I pursued you relentlessly while he was gone." She almost purred at this, bringing a flush to the young man's face.

Settling back, a goofy grin on his face, the warden nodded his head. Resuming his meal, he muttered. "I rather like that." He chuckled as he thought more on it. "I guess that can be the catch all explanation." Adela raised her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I'll just blame you for everything."

He did not bother to duck as Adela's napkin hit him squarely in the face.

DA:O

He felt like he was being drawn toward the palace that stood before him, the gray mists evaporating the nearer he came to the building. He knew the palace, had seen it during his trip to Denerim, and this monstrosity looming ahead of him barely resembled the majestic structure.

Bodies - elven and human - littered the streets, leading up to the palace's front gates. The wrought iron gate that opened to the vast courtyard had been ripped from their hinges, as had the grand double doors admitting entrance into the palace. He frowned, searching for a weapon he could use. His eyes settled upon the near skeletal figure of a man dressed in heavy plate, his longsword lying beside him. Expelling a sigh of relief, the elf bent down and picked up the blade, testing its balance before nodding in satisfaction. The fine blade would more than serve as a means for protection. As an after thought, he picked up the guard's shield, eyeing the armor covering the corpse. He dismissed the idea, realizing that the armor was far too big and heavy for him to effectively wear. Perhaps he could locate some leather or splint mail within the palace?

He stood before the broken doors, peering into the dark depths of the antechamber. Rubble and other ruin glared back at him, attesting to the ruin he had witnessed throughout the noble quarter. The elf knew he was not in Denerim, knew that he was not entering the palace of Fereldan. He had a suspicion that he was somehow trapped within the Fade or experiencing some hallucination, a result of the maleficar's magic. Why he was here was another story, one that he had no means of discerning at this time. With a final glance around the courtyard, the elf stepped through the doorway and into the bastion of the Fereldan royalty.

DA:O

Winter was coming to an early thaw. That was what the village elders were telling the wardens and their companions. Relief swept through the group as thoughts of rejoining the rest of their band began to take precedence. Preparations for the trek to Redcliffe had begun to be made and every day passed with inessentials being packed away and Zevran making regular forays beyond his normal hunting boundaries and further down the mountain to test the trails.

One bright, sunny day found Alistair and Adela standing in one another's arms amidst the trees by the Chantry.

"So," Alistair said lazily, smiling down into Adela's flushed face. "Have I told you lately I love you?"

Smiling up at him, she shrugged. "I seem to recall those words coming out of your mouth fairly recently."

"Hmmm…" he hummed, burying his face into her hair. "Well, it won't hurt you to hear it again, will it?"

Pulling away from him, she gazed up into his face. "I love you, Alistair."

"Ah ha!" he chuckled, swooping in for a kiss, then pulling back. "I love you, too, Adela."

He pulled her against his chest, hugging her tightly, allowing the warmth and happiness he had never felt in his entire life sweep over him. "So, tell me," he murmured. "Just which of my more manly attributes finally made you see reason?"

Giggling, she pushed him away, grinning into his face. Her blue eyes studied his features, taking in the wide smile, sparkling eyes, and face just filled with love. "All of you," came her simple reply as she settled back into the warmth of his arms.

"Really?" he asked, surprised by the response.

Nodding, she murmured. "You're not a puzzle to be examined piece by piece, Alistair. Each of your quirks, smiles, pouts, sense of humor, your heart and soul…bravery in battle, willingness to put yourself in danger for members of our group…everything that makes up the whole of you is what I love about you." She grinned up at him. "Helps you are so handsome as well."

"Handsome, am I?" he purred, rubbing his nose against hers.

"Alistair, you know you're handsome. Or have you completely dismissed all the looks you get from women wherever we go?" She grinned. "I seem to recall Zevran flirting with you more than once."

He grimaced. "Zevran flirts with anyone and anything with two legs." An expression of pure confusion crossed his face. "And just what are you talking about?" he asked, frowning slightly. "What women?"

Her head tilted back slightly. "Oh, you mean to tell me you never noticed?'

Grinning in victory, Alistair replied as he lowered his head for another kiss. "What other woman could possibly compare to the beauty I now hold in my arms?"

Adela moved her head away from Alistair's lips, a surprisingly serious look upon her face. "Really?" she tilted her head away as he dove in, again, for a kiss, hitting her cheek instead. "You are really going to tell me that you don't notice any other woman? That you don't think of being with someone else?"

Sighing heavily, Alistair settled back, staring at Adela. "Why won't you believe me when I say it's true?"

Biting the inside of her cheek, Adela shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe it's because I've seen the women who stare at you," she admitted. "Even Adelaine has an interest in your. And she's quite nice." This last part came out almost as a whisper.

Alistair's eyes widened and then he laughed, a great rumbling sound that shook his body, echoing from his chest. Adela glared at him, pulling back from him and crossing her arms to her chest. "What?" she demanded, poking him in the chest to get his attention.

"I cannot believe it!" he chuckled, tears running from his eyes. "You, of all people, are jealous!"

Frowning, she shook her head, pushing herself away from the man. "I am not!" she denied.

Shaking his head, the human pulled Adela back into his embrace, grinning away. "You are jealous." he teased lightly. She ducked her face away from his, trying to ignore him.

A great sigh burst from her and she glared at the man. "Well, what if I am?" she demanded, scowling.

"Why would you be?' he countered, unable to believe that this beautiful woman would be jealous of anyone. Hadn't he let her know just how much he loves her?

But Adela remained silent, a sullen look upon her face, one that betrayed more than just mere jealousy. Alistair leaned back, looking at her pose. He did not doubt that she was jealous; he recognized the look upon her face, the posture her body had assumed. He recalled assuming that posture, that look whenever he had thought of either Loghain or Roland.

But that was before Adela had proclaimed her love for him. Alistair. The unwanted baby whose father had pawned him off to a nobleman who in turn treated him little better than a servant. A nobleman who then, in turn, pawned him off to the Chantry. This elf, who understood well the love and affection of family, friends and community, loved him, accepted him. Was even angry with friends of hers - close friends - on his behalf. And, all that feeling of abandonment had vanished, wiped away.

The mirth suddenly vanished when Alistair realized that, just as he needed, she needed some acknowledgement of how much she was treasured. He had thought that his actions spoke volumes, and he told her how he felt often enough. But, jealousy was not a rational emotion. Adelaine's son, Josef, spent a great deal of time following after the man. And Adelaine herself had remarked, more times than once, how she wished for a good man, a good father figure, for her children. And that she thought quite highly of Alistair in that regard.

A gentle smile crossed Alistair's face, and he thought he understood. Although Adelaine had never made any indication of pursuing Alistair, Adela was well aware of the human woman's desire for a father for her children. And with Josef constantly following Alistair around and Alistair's helping out around her household…

He stepped nearer to the elven woman, gazing down at her. "You have nothing to worry about, you know," he softly said to her. She raised her face, quirking an eyebrow up at him. He placed his hands gently upon her shoulders.

"Really?" There was still a bit of disbelief in her voice. "Adelaine is quite pretty," she said quietly, frowning. "And obviously can give you children…"

That was it. Right there. Alistair went down to his knees, firmly gripping Adela's shoulders. "Adela," he said, his voice firm yet loving. "I know what the taint does to a Warden," she raised her eyes to his. "If you and I remain together, and never have children, I would still count myself as the luckiest man in the world because I would have you."

Adela blinked, forcing the tears back that had threatened. "I don't know why it bothers me so," she admitted, stepping closer to press her face against his chest.

Rubbing her back, he nodded. "Didn't you tell me once that, as an elf, it would have been your duty to marry and have elven children," he felt her nod in assent. "You told me that all of your life you had expected to have children. It was important to your community, and so became important to you." He gently pushed her back so that he could look into her face. "But, trust me when I say that I would be the happiest man ever to walk Thedas if all I had was you and your love to my dying days."

With those words, Adela relaxed, pulling Alistair into an embrace. She muttered 'sorry' into his chest, and he merely stroked her hair, planting a kiss upon the crown of her head.

DA:O

The snows had ceased falling, and the bright sunshine had begun to melt away the snow that remained upon the ground. Teagan had advised that within the next month spring thaw should arrive and, with that, Mud Season. Roland had chuckled at that, recalling that Mud Season in Highever was mostly brought about by the heavy rains that accompanied the arrival of spring. Further South, Mud Season was what happened when the snows melted away, leaving behind nothing but, well, mud.

The knight was getting anxious to reunite with those friends he had left behind at Haven. He was anxious to see Adela again as well. The time he had spent at Redcliffe castle, in more conversations with Arl Eamon regarding Adela and Alistair than the former knight was comfortable with, the higher his anxiety to just leave and begin their journey. However, he and Alistair had set a deadline, which was still weeks away, and one he was not going to disrupt by allowing his discomfort to unsettle him.

Besides, he really wanted to keep a closer eye on Elissa. And, honestly, he had no desire to bring her anywhere. Especially not anywhere near Adela.

He had noticed that the Cousland heir and Arl had spent a great deal of time together, all the while Eamon had pushed Isolde further and further away. At first, the knight had seriously considered that perhaps the elder Guerrin and Cousland had taken up an affair, and that thought alone had made him slightly ill. However, the more he watched, and the more Leliana - ever perceptive and watching Leliana - had informed him, the more he suspected that the conversations and time spent between the two had less to do with an alliance between Highever and Redcliffe and more of matters involving Alistair. Leliana had agreed with his assessment, and that did not make him feel any better.

And there was nothing he could do at this juncture, other than to continue to watch and be wary. Once they were united with their companions, Roland would be able to forewarn the wayward Theirin.

DA:O

The young messenger stood in the antechamber, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He had practically run all the way from Redcliffe to Denerim, anxious to earn the bit of coin the Regent's man had offered. That amount of coin could help feed his family through the rest of the winter and through the summer!

Voices sounded from the room to his left, and the young man stopped his fidgeting, standing straighter, tugging at his tunic to make certain all was in place. He glanced down at his boots and grimaced at the mud thereupon. Although snow still covered the ground, he had still managed to get his boots dirty! Nervous, his gaze shifted upwards, hoping he had not done some outstanding insult by standing in the middle of the grand hallway with dirty boots.

He tried not to gape as the two well dressed men - obviously nobles - stepped into the hall. The blonde's eyes immediately shifted to his form, and he found himself unable to turn away from that penetrating gaze. The other man by his side was smaller, darker, with a hawkish face and hooked nose. The taller man patted the other upon the shoulder, and then, together, they stepped to stand before the young man.

He bowed deeply, knowing he stood in the midst of two noblemen. The elder of the two, the darker one, narrowed his eyes at the messenger, but the blond merely grinned.

"I understand you have news from Redcliffe?" the blond prompted.

"Ah, yes, yes, milord," the young man stammered, gasping for breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"What is your name, lad?" the same man asked, his tone friendly and soothing.

"Bowdan," he answered quickly, relaxing instantly, amazed that the man would be interested in his name.

"Ah, well, then Bowdan," the blond continued, "I am Lord Arawn. This is Teyrn Howe," Bowdan gasped again, nervously bowing to the men. "What news?"

"Oh, y-y-yes," he straightened, fumbling for the rolled and sealed parchment. "I was bid to deliver this to your hands, milord," he said as he handed the missive over.

Arawn smiled warmly at Bowdan, pulling free a pouch of silver that hung at his hip. "Here, lad," he tossed the pouch to the boy. "This is for you. I am very impressed you managed to get this communiqué to us with the roads such as they are."

The boy stood, staring at the heavy pouch he held in his hands, barely registering what Arawn had said. Then, stuttering, he thanked the man's generosity. Arawn then called the butler forward, advising that Bowdan be taken to the kitchens and there given something to eat. With a nod and a bow the butler complied, pulling a thankful Bowdan in his wake.

Smirking, Arawn turned to Howe, who was watching the exchange with mild amusement. "Is that lad going to ever see the light of day again?" the Teyrn asked, already knowing the answer.

Arawn merely grinned at his friend as he tore open the seal, his blue eyes scanning over the heavy scrawl of his agent. That grin widened significantly. "Come, Rendon," he said as he handed the missive to his friend. "Let us get a drink. I believe that you shall be having company before winter's end."

His own eyes reading over the missive, Arawn's grin was matched by Howe's own. "Indeed," the Howe murmured. "It would seem that my dearest Lady Cousland has been located."