Thanks to everyone who has read, alerted and most especially reviewed!: Nithu, tgail73, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Biff McLaughlin, Shakespira, celtic-twinkie

Short chapter to get them out of the Wilds and on their way to Orzammar.

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 48

They are all bone weary, emotionally drained, and still they walked, trekking through the Wilds, unable to bring themselves to camp for the eve, to replenish their strength and garner the rest they desperately need.

The more distance between them and Ostagar the better.

Adela felt it, too keenly, as she trudged alongside Alistair. They had put to rest their king, Cailan Rendorn Theirin, a man far too young, far too idealistic to have met his end by the hands of the darkspawn. He was a king who fought for his people, who challenged the general mindset of the nobility. One of Adela's oldest and dearest friends.

So, too, had they put to rest Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Fereldan. The tiny elf wished she had had the opportunity to have gotten to know him better. He had been a friend, of sorts, to her mother. Yet, she had never heard mention of him by her or her father. Only when conscripted had she learned, from the man's own lips, that he had known her mother.

Two vials, both filled with ashes…so little of both men, great in their own way, left. So small and weightless, and yet they seemed to overburden the young elf's pack, giving it greater weight than it truly had. For, although they had managed to find, for themselves, closure in discovering their bodies, and ensuring that no longer would either man endure further abuse at the hands of their sworn enemies, there was still so much to be done, in both their names.

Not for the first time since Ostagar did the elf feel as though it was far too much, that she could not handle the responsibility. It was all too large a scope for the small elf, whose sole desire in life not a year before had been to continue on with her art, to create, to bring joy and appreciation to those who saw her works.

To marry.

To have children.

To grow old within the confines of her Alienage, and die, her family around her.

Simple dreams. Dreams that now would never come true.

She was tired. She could tell. Self-pity seemed almost overwhelming, and she looked up, looking at the ragged face of her husband.

A smile crossed her lips then.

She had married.

Certainly, she and Alistair may never have children of their bodies, but, given how large a heart her husband had, they could adopt children who were orphaned by the Blight and war…pestilence and poverty.

She may not grow old. But she would grow older, and with Alistair beside her.

A small hand reached up, gently tracing over the worry lines and weariness etched too plainly in the handsome features of the man she loved. Amber eyes blinked, and then turned downward, brightening at the sight of the small elven woman, from whose eyes shown clearly the love she had for him. Alistair gave her a smile, the lines easing upon his face, as he reached down and pulled her into his side, planting a kiss upon the top of her head.

The duties may seem endless; weariness may overwhelm. But, Adela knew that they all had a mission - a quest - that was far too important, far larger than she, and that with these fine companions, with this wonderful man beside her, she knew that they would succeed.

For all of Fereldan, all of Thedas, may well depend upon them.

With a sigh, she pulled back from Alistair's comforting warmth, and reached to the pocket that held the vials containing what earthly remains of Cailan and Duncan remained, and pressed her hand upon it. The work of these two fine men would see completion.

DA:O

They had walked throughout the rest of the day, and well into the night. A great deal of distance had been placed between them and Ostagar and, given Wynne's request to rest for the rest of the night, the wardens called a halt to their march, ordering that camp be set. No one seemed overly eager at camping, still in the midst of the Wilds. Even Morrigan had voiced displeasure at the prospect. However, they could no longer continue onward, and needed at least a few hours respite. With a nod, the witch turned, pulling Artemis along with her, to set wards around the campsite.

Too weary to hunt, Adela pulled rations from their stores and sat upon a log the Sten had pulled up before the fire that he had blazing in the camp's center. Tents were posted, and everyone sat down to enjoy the dried meat, hardtack and sharp cheese that would be that evening's meal.

Alistair sat heavily beside his wife, watching as she dug into her pouch, pulling free some of the papers they had found in Duncan's chest. Her eyes squinted slightly as she examined one sheet of vellum.

"It's encrypted," she muttered, rubbing at her eyes. "And I am far too tired to try and decipher it."

Snickering at her, the young man pulled the paper from her fingers, staring at the encryption. The figures swam before his vision and he, too, had to admit easy defeat. Handing it back, he prompted her to replace it to her pouch. They would have time once they left the Wilds, once they had been properly rested, to examine Duncan and Cailan's papers.

There was a sound not far off into the bushes. Even as weary as they all were, everyone was on his or her feet, spells called forward, blades naked in hand, bows shouldered and notched. Sharp elven eyes alert, peering into the darkness, and yet she could discern nothing.

"Jumpy," Zevran muttered as he forced himself to relax his stance, sheathing both blades as he turned a circle. Tensely, everyone replaced their weapons.

Today had been difficult for them all.

"We should find our rest," Adela said as she placed her bow down upon the log, forcing her voice to sound easy. "We'll take shifts in threes. Leliana," She faced the bard. "you, the Sten and Artemis should take the first watch. Alistair, Niall and I shall take second, Roland, Zev and Morrigan third."

With a nod, Leliana, the Sten and Artemis set their watch sites as the others slipped into their tents.

"Second watch, eh?" Alistair quipped as he pulled himself into their tent, slipping his boots from his feet before rolling to their bedrolls.

"Sorry, love," Adela gave him a weary smile. "Second watch is difficult, and I felt we should take that one." She slipped her own boots free, tugging at her belt to slip her trousers from her legs.

Alistair watched with great appreciation the expanse of white leg his wife now showed. With a grin, he crawled over to her, hovering above her, smiling into her face.

"What do you think you're doing?" Adela asked as she smiled up into his face, her tone teasing.

"What? Can't I give my wife a kiss good night?" he asked innocently, pressing her back onto the bedroll as he settled himself around and beside her, wrapping his strong arms around her slight body, pulling her closer as he wrapped a leg about her hips.

Smirking at him, she turned slightly to face him fully. A small, tender hand traced over his features, her eyes following the path of her hand, taking in each line, each new scar, finally to settle at his lips. "Hmmm…that would be rather nice, my husband," she purred slightly.

Smiling into her face, Alistair settled closer, covering her lips with his own as his hand wandered over her body, to run lightly along her naked legs.

DA:O

The next day dawned bright, yet the sky remained gray. Even the few hours of rest the party had managed to garner was enough to help pick up their collective mood and pace. They had passed through the heart of the Wilds, and that knowledge helped to ease their scattered thoughts.

It was nearing the middle of the day when they found themselves surrounded by a party of Chasind warriors.

Dark skinned, wearing leather armor adorned with feathers, pieces of animal hide, and bark, the warriors appeared as barbaric as legends made them to be. Their leader, a large man with long black hair and keen black eyes, stepped forward, bidding them to follow. A look to Morrigan, who nodded, and Adela ordered their group to follow.

The hunting group led the companions through the outer edge of the Wilds, and to a small, temporary encampment just at the Wilds' borders. The leader, who had identified himself as Apumayta, led the group to where a large bonfire roared in the encampment's center. An elderly woman dressed in a simple dress of browns and greens, rose, her white head bobbing as she greeted the younger man. She then turned kind, brown eyes upon the group, those eyes settling upon Adela's weary and wary face.

"Welcome to our home, Grey Wardens," she intoned in a pleasantly soft voice. "I am Elder Tula. You are welcome within the Tribe of Hache hi."

Bowing at the waist, Adela replied. "We are honored to be welcome within your home, Elder."

Chuckling, the elderly woman moved with grace and swiftness that belied her obvious age. Clucking at Apumayta in their native language, she turned back to the elf as the young hunter barked orders to his hunters and led them away. "We did not bring you here without a purpose, young Warden," Tula remarked as she grasped Adela's arm, pulling her toward the fire.

"Why have we been made guests, Ancient One?" Morrigan asked as she moved forward, nearer to the Wardens.

Smiling, Tula replied, "Ah, young Witch, we are leaving the Wilds." She turned back to Adela. "The darkspawn threat has become too great for us, and so we must leave, heading further southward, away from the heart of the hoard."

"Away?" Adela asked, glancing around at the bustle as the tribesmen renewed their efforts at breaking down their camp. "Why not join our armies to battle the Blight?" The young Commander turned back to the elder, her face set and serious.

Tula watched the young elf, her dark eyes carrying within them a hint of calm understanding. Then a smile crossed her heavily lined face and she nodded. "Truth be told, young one, our warriors have been clambering to fight beside the Grey Wardens against the Blight. I have given permission for Apumayta and his hunters to offer their blades and bows to your cause. However," she turned Adela about, facing her toward the sole permanent structure in the encampment: a squat hut of brush and sticks, its doorway covered by a heavy blanket. "it was not for the purpose of offering our skills in battle that we brought you here for."

"Why then?" Adela asked as her companions were offered food and drink. She looked over at Alistair and gave him a nod of permission before turning back to their hostess.

"While our warriors will head northward toward the center of your people," Tula remarked, "the rest of our tribe shall continue southward. There is one, however, who is not of the People, and wishes to be reunited with his countrymen."

Her ears perked up, and Alistair stepped nearer. "Who is this man?" Adela asked quietly, wondering if any of the Grey Wardens had survived the disaster that had been Ostagar.

Clucking, Tula smirked, waving her hand to a young girl. After instructing her to bring their guest forward, she turned back. "He is one who had been out scouting with many of his men. Unfortunately, he had been the only one to survive. His wounds were egregious, and it has taken him many moons and much heart to regain his health and strength." The curtain to the hut opened and out stepped a tall man dressed in leathers similar to those worn by Apumayta. After scanning the area quickly with sharp, brown eyes, the man spied Tula and stepped toward the elder.

Dark hair was pulled back in a tight braid that hung below his shoulders. Sharp, angular features and a regal nose marked him as being from among the nobility. He appeared to be around Cailan's age, although it was difficult to tell by the number of scars that now lined his still handsome features. Adela noted a slight limp as he approached, but also took note of the hard muscles beneath the leather. Despite having been seriously injured, the man had obviously taken the time during his convalescence to regain not only his strength but fighting form.

The young man paused before the elf and Alistair, then turned toward the tribe's elder, bowing deeply before her.

"Elder Tula," he said, his voice calm and cultured, obviously educated.

"Lord Fergus?"

The man lifted his head, staring ahead as Roland walked toward the group, his pace quickening as he rushed to the young man's side.

"Ser Gilmore?" the man responded, his face lighting up with a wide smile as he straightened, clasping the younger man's forearm in a strong hand.

Tula chuckled. "I see you have a friend among them already, young Fergus," she clucked her approval.

"Indeed, indeed," Fergus remarked, turning back to Roland. "What brings you here?" The young man asked. "Why are you no longer at Highever?"

"Lord Fergus," Roland said, stepping nearer as his voice lowered. "These are Grey Wardens," he raised a hand to indicate Adela and Alistair. "This," he motioned toward the elf, "is the Warden Commander Adela, and this her second, Warden Alistair." He allowed small smile to cross his face. "I've been recruited into their ranks."

"Ah, so Father let you go, did he?" The young lord questioned. He did not miss the dark shadow that passed by Roland's green eyes. "What has happened?" he asked, fear constricting his chest.

With an utter look of hopelessness, Roland looked to Adela, who reached over and placed a gentle hand upon his arm.

"There is much to tell you, Fergus," the young warden recruit replied, raising his eyes to look directly into Fergus.

"Come, then," he said, nodding toward the hut from which he had recently emerged.

Roland turned pleading eyes to Adela. "Please, Adela, would you come, too?"

She opened her mouth to protest, certain he should speak with the other man alone. But, Roland shook his head. "I need you there."

With a look to Alistair, she nodded and followed the two to the hut.

DA:O

Alistair watched as Adela followed Roland and Fergus into the hut, fighting against the surge of jealousy that rose in his breast. Roland was about to tell this young man that his entire family - parents, wife, son - were dead, and here he was, standing there upset because Roland needed the support of his friend - Adela - in order to do so. Completely upset and disgusted with himself, the young warden turned to the others, trying to enjoy the food and drink that the Chasind of the Hache hi tribe provided.

About an hour later, Adela emerged from the hut, alone, her face sad and weary. Alistair pushed himself to his feet, frowning as the elf made her way to where their companions sat and rested. He could see unshed tears in her eyes, and as she wrapped her arms about his waist, he pulled her closer, enveloping her in his embrace, his head bent down to her head.

"He lost everything…everyone he ever knew and loved," Adela whispered into Alistair's armored chest, a slight sob shaking her small body. The large man went down to his knees, allowing his wife to wrap her arms about his neck and bury her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Brushing his hand down her hair and back, Alistair made comforting shushing sounds as he held her.

"I don't know what I would ever do," she cried, tightening her hold about him. "I know that what we do is dangerous, and either of us could die at any time. But," she pulled away, tears running down her face, Alistair's thumb brushing them away. "I could not bare it if I lost you."

A soft smile crossed his face, and Alistair pulled her close again. "Shush, love. If it's ever in my power, I promise you will never be alone."

"Ha," she said mirthlessly. "You aren't all powerful, you know, my big strong warden."

Shaking his head, he replied. "Maybe not. But I would never willingly leave your side." He pushed her away so that he could look her directly in the eye. "If ever we are parted, know that I love you, will always love you, and that it was not a separation by choice."

Tears still streaming down her face, Adela nodded, brushing a shaking hand across her eyes. "I'm being foolish, aren't I?" she said in a querulous voice.

Chuckling slightly, her husband shook his head. "No, love. With everything we've gone through, with everything we're still facing…no. Not foolish at all."

Nodding, laughing slightly with embarrassment and pained relief, she pulled away, rubbing her hands across her eyes and face. "He wishes to accompany us," she said after a few moments, her eyes straying to the hut wherein Fergus and Roland remained, talking. "He understands our mission, and that our next destination is Orzammar." She shrugged, turning her attention back to Alistair. "He wants to help, and he is skilled. So…"

"So, we've another warrior to add to our group," Alistair finished, appreciating the extra sword, pleased with the decision.

"We'll need to find him armor and a sword," Adela remarked. "He fights with a greatsword." Her eyes wandered to where they had piled their supplies, going to the packs that contained their extra armaments.

"We need to restock," Alistair remarked with a frown.

Adela nodded her head. "I know. We're very low on extra armaments. Do we even have a greatsword he can use?"

He did a quick mental inventory and then nodded. "Yes. I believe it's one we had acquired from Castle Cousland. And, we have an extra set of plate mail that should fit the man as well."

Nodding, she frowned, thoughtful. "The Sten will need another set, too. But, he is too large for any that we have."

"There are no better smiths than the dwarves at Orzammar," Alistair remarked, turning back to his wife.

"Well, let's hope his armor holds together until we can get there," she answered, straightening. "It's going to be difficult for Fergus," she said. "He is technically the Teyrn of Highever. However, Maker knows what Howe has done or said in the interim. We should try and keep his survival a secret for as long as possible."

"Right," Alistair said, frowning. "Now we've a royal bastard and a noble to keep quiet about." He grinned at Adela's unamused expression. "Add to that all of the Grey Warden secrets, and we are a group awash in mystery."

Snorting, with a shake of her head, Adela turned to get something to eat and drink.