Thanks to everyone who has been following along, especially to those who review: Eriana10, Nithu, tgail73, Katrina-Irene, Gaspode, xXBeninekoXx, Biff McLaughlin

But especially to Arsinoe de Blassenville & CCBug, who helped me get this story back on track by helping me deal with my writer's block. I had started to doubt this story and the character of Adela and her relationship with Alistair, but they both encouraged me to just keep writing her/them as she/they come to me, rather than try and force her into a mold that just wouldn't work for her. She's not going to please everyone; so she's just going to be herself and see where that leads her.

I am loving everyone's reaction to Elissa. She's like the anti-Adela!

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 38

They were packed and ready to begin their trek down the mountainside and to Redcliffe. Adela stood in the center of the room that had been hers during their months-long stay in Haven. So much had happened while they were there, and yet to Adela it did not seem as though enough had been done. Her injuries while they had fought against the high dragon had put their important mission on hold. Certainly, Alistair had taken the lead (as she had always known he could) and separated the group to ensure getting the Ashes to Arl Eamon. She still felt a pang of guilt, however irrational it was, over the delay.

Other things were taking hold in her mind, and she was uncertain how to deal with them. She wished with almost childish need to be home, back at the Alienage, her father and Shianni there, ready with waiting ear to help guide and direct her. Anora's advice would be most welcome as well, for the more experienced and older woman would have an insight even her more adventurous cousin may not possess.

But Adela did not have the luxury of home or old friends. But, she did have new friends, and a new, budding love that was causing her confusion and questions.

She had been tempted so many times to and speak with Morrigan, the only woman from their band to remain behind. However, she quickly realized that Morrigan had even less experience with men or people in general than she did.

Speaking with Zevran seemed too…strange. His philosophy was to 'take pleasure where you can' and damn the rest. Not exactly the kind of advice the young elf was seeking, especially when she wanted it regarding a relationship she would hope would last for a lifetime - however long that would be.

Best to leave it all until they got to Redcliffe, she decided, raising her head and taking a determined step to where her pack lay. Once there, she could talk with Leliana, or even Wynne, to get their perspective and advice. Wynne loved giving advice, and Leliana was far more worldly than the once sheltered elf. Between the two of them, Adela was certain she would garner the guidance she needed as she treaded along in unfamiliar territory.

Alistair's voice called to her from the antechamber of the Chantry. With a sigh, she hefted her pack and, after taking one last look around to be certain she had missed nothing, the elven warden left the room and followed the others into the village and down the front stairs.

DA:O

Running her hand over her blond hair, Anora stared into the mirror, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes and the worry lines that marred the corners of her mouth. A tension was in her stomach, and she held a hand to it, trying to calm herself for the series of meetings she would have to endure that day.

So many months after the disastrous occurrence at Ostagar, and she still missed Cailan's jovial presence. They had been good together - foils for one another. Cailan's easy going manner put nobles and commoners alike at ease, his quick mind immediately open for whatever issues had brought them before them. Anora's own pragmatism and dagger sharp intellect could then ferret out the information those same nobles and commoners sought to keep hidden, and then, once all cards were on the table, find the solution necessary for the greater benefit of all.

Nowadays, she sat council either alone or with her father by her side. This day, her father would be absent, needing to attend to some issues regarding the Bannorn. However, as this meeting dealt more with the Arling of Denerim, Rendon Howe, in his capacity as the Arl, would be sitting council with her.

She shuddered. The man made her uneasy. She recalled many conversations with Cailan and Adela regarding the man, and each of them had agreed with her assessment of the scheming noble. He was untrustworthy, doing everything in his power to make it appear as though he had only the good of Fereldan at heart. But, merely speaking with the man made his very nature - selfish, calculating - come to the surface, and anyone with eyes to see could be aware.

It still baffled her why her father placed so much importance upon the vile man's shoulders.

Her elven handmaiden, Erlina, stepped lightly into the room. Her sharp eyes taking in the Queen's stoic appearance, and a small frown turned the corners of her full lips downward. Anora gave the elf a small smile, grateful for the Orlesian's presence even though she was still uncertain how much she could trust the young servant.

With a quick brush of her fingertips along her cheeks, Anora turned toward her servant. With a nod of her regal head, she stepped from her chambers, making her way to the Throne room.

Today's discussion would be dealing with the issues the Alienage had, and Anora was hoping to gather information on just what, exactly, had been going on in there.

DA:O

The elf paused, glancing down at the bodies that were strewn across the marble floor of the antechamber. Each of the bodies were in various states of decay, some appearing only hours dead, while others were nearly skeletal. A shudder coursed through his frame and he rolled his broad shoulders, hands tightening upon blade and shield as he walked past the bodies and up the flowing staircase.

The palace was eerily silent, and he paused at the top of the stairwell. To his right was a corridor devoid of debris, clearly lit and almost welcoming. To his left, rubble and debris lay scattered across the floor, the ceiling broken, allowing a view into the floor level above. The torches in the sconces spluttered, creating a wavering light down the hall. The scent of decay and rot wafted to his nose from that direction.

"The path less traveled…" he muttered, bracing himself as he turned to the left.

Stepping lightly over the debris, the elf was relieved that the body count on this level was less than on then floor below. A noise came to his ears, and he paused, staring ahead cautiously. The sounds of heavy footsteps could be heard, and the young elven man raised his weapon, preparing to meet whatever foe came his way.

He was surprised when the dangerous foe he had expected was an older human man with black hair. As the man approached, he realized that the newcomer was the same man that had been present when the blood mage performed his dark magic.

"Stop right there, human," the elf warned, his voice strong as his hands gripped weapon and shield. The human did, indeed, pause, his pale blue eyes narrowing only slightly as he took in the figure of the armed elf standing mere feet away. Slowly, he raised his hands, indicating he is unarmed.

"Who are you?" the elf demanded, standing straight and tall, gem blue eyes narrowing as he continued to stare at the human. He was certain that the human was the reason - the blame - that he had been trapped in this plane by that blood mage. And he will have his answers.

The human blinked, "My name is Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir," he introduced himself, using his full name and title as he seldom had to these days. The surprise was evident on his face that he must do so now, especially to an elf living within the confines of Denerim.

The elf nodded his head, his eyes no longer narrowed or threatening. "I have heard of you, Teyrn Loghain. In Highever, your name is spoken often as the one who saw the value of elves during the rebellion."

Highever? Loghain's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the elf before him. He was tall, very tall, broad shouldered, torso slimming down to narrow hips. Muscular, the elven man was built like a warrior. The confidence with which he held the blade and shield was also evident. Strange, for one from an alienage to be so familiar with weapons.

"So, you are from Highever?" Loghain asked needlessly, as the young man had already revealed as much. The elf's eyes once again narrowed as he interpreted the question as a blow to his own truthfulness.

So, the elf snorted. "Obviously, if that is where I've heard of you," he muttered. "After all, had I the pleasure of spending my entire life in Denerim's alienage, I'm certain I would have heard of you here."

Loghain stood, watching the young elf. Finally, the elf sighed, running a hand through his blond hair, grimacing at the length of it. "I apologize, my Lord," the elf turned and faced the human face on. "I am a bit…unnerved. Events of these past few months have been…unusual, to say the least."

Here, the human allowed himself a slight smirk. "I would have to agree with you, young man," he conceded, still watching the elf closely. The elf's handsome face scrunched up with distaste and nodded. "Might I inquire as to your name?" The elf looked up at the man, frowning. "After all, it would seem as though you and I are the only company each of us will be seeing for some time."

Sighing, the elf turned. "True. And, again, I apologize for my ill manners. My name is Nelaros Marks."

Loghain nodded at the younger man. "From Highever, obviously."

"As I said, my Lord, your name is well known amongst elves as mostly one of the few humans outside the Cousland family to understand the value of an elf by your side."

A small grin crossed Loghain's thin lips as he thought back those decades before to the Night Elves, a legion of elven archers he had the privilege of putting together. "How did you end up in Denerim?"

Nelaros smirked, "I was betrothed to perhaps the most beautiful girl ever to grace Thedas." Loghain did not miss the rather dreamy quality of the young man's voice, and he held off a roll of the eyes at such. The elf's face clouded over, though, as he continued. "She and several others from the wedding party were kidnapped by the Arl's son. Her cousin and I broke into the manor to save them. I was…too late to prevent her being assaulted, but she had fought off her attacker and managed to find us. Her cousin was badly beaten and brutalized, and another girl was killed for trying to fight back." He snorted, his eyes darkening with anger at the memory. "I thought I was dead, too. Imagine my surprise when I awoke days later in the dungeon, stripped down and tied to a rack." His gaze swept over the walls, peering further into the dankness. He was certain he had heard…something. He turned to look over at the human noble. "I think I would have preferred remaining dead."

Nelaros' eyes shifted back toward the darkness, and Loghain found his own gaze turning in that direction as well. Yes, there was something moving about, just down the corridor. What it was, neither man could tell. It shuffled and scraped along the floor, sounding almost as though it was dragging a heavy burden behind it. Nelaros scanned the ground, spying another well armed and armored body lying thereupon.

"Arm yourself, my Lord," the elf said as he straightened, bracing himself.

Loghain's own eyes scanned the floor, but…"With what?" he snorted, scowling at the elf's back. "There are no weapons or armaments nearby."

Confusion marred Nelaros' face, and the elf glanced back down at the body. "There is the body of a guardsman just three feet from where you stand," he instructed, turning his eyes back to the corridor.

"No, there is not."

Sighing, not ready to try and puzzle that out, Nelaros handed the human his own sword and shield, and then bent down to retrieve the longsword and heavy shield upon the body. Loghain's eyes widened as he saw the weapon and shield appear in the elf's hands, and his gaze swept back to the floor. He still did not see the body of the guard, and briefly wondered at that as he shifted his own stance, holding the blade at the ready, the shield firmly attached to his forearm.

The elf's stance stiffened slightly, and the scraping dragging noise became louder. Nelaros started whispering something, and Loghain realized it was a prayer, spoken in elvish. He glanced over at the elf, wondering where he had learned Dalish. He thought he recognized some of the words spoken coming from Adaia's lips during their battles together during the rebellion.

A hissing sound accompanied the other, and both men could feel the heat emanating from the direction they faced. They spared a glance toward one another, their faces set, weapons ready as the form flowed into view.

Flowed seemed an appropriate description of how the being that pursued them entered their field of vision.

DA:O

The snow was melting, and bright sunshine shone through the window of the opulent room provided by Arl Eamon. Elissa sighed contentedly as she turned the page of the book of Orlesian poetry she had borrowed from the estate's expansive library. Seated upon the window box, she leaned back against the warm glass of the window, soaking up the sunshine and warmth.

She tugged the woolen blanket over her lap, straightening out the folds of the skirt to her dress. There was a slight noise to her right, and she glanced up briefly. Everything was in its place, and she turned back to her book.

A noise in the sitting room of her suites roused her from her study, and she rose, irritated at being disturbed. Opening the door, she peered in. Seeing nothing amiss, she shut the door firmly. Straightening, she started to turn to head back to her window perch when a strong arm went around her waist, a dagger pressed firmly against her neck.

"Ah, your Ladyship," a smooth Fereldan voice, accompanied by hot breath, said in her ear. "You have been most difficult finding."

With a sigh, she allowed her body to relax. "Who would be so interested in my whereabouts, might I ask?" her voice held an almost bored quality, and the man behind her chuckled.

"His Grace, Teyrn Howe, requests the pleasure of your company," the hand at her waist shifted, and he turned the young woman about. A plain, bearded face, smirking, greeted her. A quick glance about told the young noblewoman that at least four other men, dressed in dark leathers and hooded, stood in the shadowed corners of her room.

"Teyrn Howe, is it?" she scoffed, turning her glare to the one who had physically assaulted her. "Why should I care if he desires my presence or not?"

The hand at her waist moved upwards, clasping her forearm in a vice like grip. "Come now, My Lady," her assailant all but purred. "That is for the two of you noble folk to discuss. Not something we commoners would know a thing about."

Rolling her eyes, she glared at the man, upset for the disturbance to her daily routine. She glanced down at the dagger in his hand, and the others openly sheathed (and she was certain that there were many more hidden upon the lanky body).

"And what, if say, I should scream?" the Lady asked, a dark brow quirking upwards toward her hairline.

That chuckle again, and then he replied, "'Twould be an awful shame, that, your Ladyship," his voice took on a decidedly darker quality while still managing to retain the playfulness the conversation had began with. "I'd have to kill whoever came through that door, and you would still have to accompany me back to Denerim." He shrugged. "No great loss, really. But my orders are to retrieve you and bring you back, unharmed. If we get into a tussle here…" he offered another shrug, his intentions clear.

Elissa stared at the man for a moment. "Denerim?" Elissa asked, frowning. "I would have thought Howe would be at Highever."

Howe's agent merely shrugged his shoulders. "Man's collecting titles and properties like a whore does coin," he remarked, gesturing her toward her wardrobe. "Now, you'd best get better attired for travel, your Ladyship. The snow's are cleared, but air's still a mite bit cold."

Glaring at him, she turned toward her wardrobe, and began pulling out traveling clothes.

DA:O

Nelaros spun about, his blade and shield raised as Loghain rushed passed. The pair stood for the moment, Loghain bent over, hands on knees as the elf scanned the area.

With a glance to his companion, Nelaros asked, "Feeling your age, I take it, Your Grace?"

Loghain shot the impudent man a glare and then straightened, moving to take his stance by the elf's side. "Damnable demons," the Teyrn muttered, glaring into the dank darkness that surrounded them.

"Encounter them often?" Nelaros asked, the slightest hint of fear coloring his voice.

Nodding, Loghain replied, "When I was first being trapped herein, I had the misfortunate of encountering the vile things often. However," he turned his gaze outwards. "They were not intent upon harming me, merely scaring me while containing me."

"I take it the containment worked," Nelaros did not mean for the sharpness in his tone to carry through, but he and Loghain had already figured out that Nelaros, for whatever reason, had been trapped in the Fade as a means to contain Loghain. A bit of resentment was only natural.

Loghain, his own mind on the same train of thought, restrained his irritation at the elven man. "So it would appear." He drawled out instead, his eyes sharp and intent upon the gloom.

A grimace crossed Nelaros' face. "How many does that make?" he asked, having lost count of how many of the fiery demons they've had to face. Now he wished he had taken the time to armor himself, even with the heavy plate humans seem to love so much. His clothing was burnt, as were portion of his flesh. Some of his hair had been singed as well. He glanced around, looking for armor while he awaited Loghain's tally.

"I would say four, and several of their lesser minions," the human muttered, rubbing a burn mark on his hand. "I cannot hear anything further at the moment."

"Perhaps they have given up their pursuit?" the elf asked hopefully, although he truly doubted it.

A great sigh heaved from Loghain's thin lips. "I would doubt it highly," he muttered. "My foe is relentless."

"Humph," Nelaros scoffed. "Too bad they take it so easy on you. They seem very determined to kill me."

Loghain nodded, shifting his sword to his shield hand to clap a reassuring hand to the elf's broad shoulder. "I do apologize for that, young man," he almost smirked at the surprised glance the younger man shot him.

He bit back a scathing retort, knowing full well it would do no good. Loghain was as much a prisoner - perhaps more so - as he. After all, at the very least Nelaros was being offered escape through death. Who knew that torments awaited Loghain within the Fade?

"I wonder how much time has passed," the elf murmured to try and keep his mind active and to break the silence. He knew keeping quiet would not serve them so well here. The demons seemed to know where they were regardless of what stealth they utilized.

There was the sound of cloth rustling as Loghain shrugged his shoulders. "It is difficult to say, here in the Fade. Despite the amount of time I have spent herein, I still have not quite mastered my surroundings." Unlike another, he thought as his gaze continued to pierce the gloom.

"I had always thought only mages could traverse the Fade," the elf remarked.

"This mage has magics I have never seen before," Loghain answered. "But, I do know of one non-mage who seems able to traverse the Fade easily enough."

"I don't suppose you could contact this someone, could you?" there was sarcasm in the elf's voice, but also some hopeful questioning.

Shaking his head, Loghain replied, "I had tried, when I first found myself here. Just before encountering you." He frowned. "But either she is dead or the wards Arawn has placed around this prison are stronger than before…I cannot say."

"She?" Nelaros raised an eyebrow, determined to not give into despair. Mindless and pointless banter could help in that.

Pale blue eyes narrowing, Loghain settled his steady gaze upon the elf. "Indeed." Was all he replied.

An hour passed, and the pair remained unmolested. Nelaros asked Loghain if there was a room he felt was defensible, and the human nodded, leading the elf to his room. Perhaps they could get some rest before their next battle.

DA:O

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Eamon shouted, pushing passed the servant and stepping into the room he had allocated to the Lady Elissa.

The young elven servant stammered an apology. "Her…she and her belongings are gone, Your Grace."

Eamon closed his gray eyes, muttering slightly under his breath. With Elissa's disappearance, his plans for securing the throne under Alistair would greatly be hampered. Collecting his thoughts and his temper, he turned to the frightened young woman.

"Have Ser Perth and his knights meet me in the great hall," he instructed with a wave of his hand. The servant nodded once, and then quickly scampered away, trying to put as much distance between herself and her lord.

Ser Perth and four of his knights met with the Arl within the hour. After obtaining their orders to thoroughly search the surrounding areas for the Lady Cousland, the knight took his leave.

Once they were out of the hall, he glanced back, puzzled as to why the Arl was so adamant on their finding the wandering noblewoman. After all, Lady Cousland had arrived with the companions and was not in any way bound to either that group or the Arl himself. If she had decided to leave…

The young man shook his head, astonished with himself for even questioning his orders. However, he had taken note that the Arl had been behaving strangely since his awakening from the poison induced coma. And his attentions to the young woman had been…unnerving at best. With a nod to his men, the knight mounted up, and, with a final reiteration of their orders, the knights separated to search for the wayward noble.