My thanks go out to Shakespira, who helped me get this chapter on track. So, Thanks!

As always, my thanks to those who continue to put this story on their alerts and favorites list. But, most especially, my thanks go out to those who take the time to send the reviews: Biff McLaughlin, Munz (welcome! Welcome!), tgail73, CCBug, Shakespira, Eriana10, Nithu, and to Wyl, who read the story in just a couple of weeks and provided such meaty reviews that they were as much fun to read as his "The Little Hero" story had been!

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 57

Standing straight, breathing hard, Alistair surveyed the battlefield. Dozens of darkspawn lay upon the ground, in varying postures of death. A slight grin crossed his face in dark humor as he cast his gaze about, seeking out his companions.

Wynne stood by the Sten, her hands aglow in blue healing light. The stoic giant had taken a blade through the joint of his arm, and the elderly mage had insisted upon healing it. The Qunari accepted the healing without complaint.

Others milled about, Zevran and Leliana picking at the corpses (every sovereign, every silver piece, helped them to fund their ongoing war against the Blight); Morrigan stood nearby, her yellow gaze scouring the area, the familiar frown upon her face. The young Warden turned, his attention upon Roland and Niall as they walked toward him. He noticed that the redheaded warrior limped and a frown crossed his face. Taking a breath, he stepped forward to meet the pair.

"You alright?" The Warden Second asked his friend, concern marring his brow as he took in the blood that covered the leg of the knight's armor.

Roland shrugged, smiling as he replied, "If Niall had not sensed I was in danger, I may well have fallen." He clapped the mage Warden upon the back, causing the smaller man to stumble forward slightly. "I could sense him approaching me."

Alistair nodded, turning his gaze back once more to the battlefield. Frowning, he cast out with his senses. He could easily sense the two men standing near him, but, as before, he could not sense their Commander. Uneasy, he turned back to the others.

"Have either of you seen Adela?"

Both men shook their heads in the negative, turning to each other. Alistair watched as an expression of concentration crossed each face, frowns deepening. Fear rose steadily in his chest. "Spread out and find her!" he ordered, quickly turning away to search out their missing Warden. The other wardens did likewise, expanding their search in different directions.

It was Niall who found her, kneeling upon the ground, one hand clasped over a bleeding wound in her side. Her eyes were closed, but the other hand fumbled to the pouch at her waist. When the mage knelt beside her, her eyes slowly opened. "Niall?" she whispered, wincing at the pain that came over her with the effort of searching the pouch, and her hand stilled.

"Hey there," the mage whispered as he let out a tendril of magic, searching through the wound. It was deep, and had nicked a kidney. The black blood that oozed between her fingers told him that much.

"I need to put you to sleep for a bit, Adela," the mage continued in his soft voice, glancing up to see that Roland and Alistair had spotted him. Nodding over at them, he turned back to his patient, casting a minor sleep spell over the girl. Frowning, she succumbed to the spell, her blue eyes closing as the mage eased her to the ground.

As the mage worked on the sleeping woman, the two warriors stood over him, watching as he worked, concern marring each face. As one, they both looked up at each other.

"You can't sense her either," came Alistair's statement. Roland frowned, glanced down at the elf, and then nodded. From his position on the ground by Adela's side, Niall muttered that he, too, had noticed he had been unable to sense the elf.

"For how long have you noticed this?" Alistair asked.

Niall looked up at Roland, and replied. "I have never been able to sense her." There was concern in his voice, mirrored upon Roland's face as the former Highever knight nodded his red head in agreement.

Alistair's frown only deepened at this knowledge, but kept quiet, watching as the mage finished healing Adela and roused her from the spell.

DA:O

Smoke billowed from the fire pit as the damp tinder took long to catch. Zevran, ever patient, bent down to blow gently into the kindling. Tiny sparks shot up and danced around the elf's delicate features, causing him to blink his half-hooded eyes. Finally, the kindling crackled, and tiny flames sparked brightly. With a grin, the elven assassin settled back upon his heels, carefully feeding more shards of wood to the fire before adding the larger pieces to a now healthy blaze.

Leliana and Morrigan sat nearby, tossing cubes of rabbit into a nearby pot, the witch adding wild vegetables and herbs as the bard cut and tossed the meat. Behind them, Roland and the Sten helped Bodahn with setting up his wagon as the others went about setting up their various tents and preparing the second fire pit to accommodate their growing numbers.

Taking a step back, watching as her friends moved about, setting up their camp, Adela felt as though they were home. Regardless of what clearing they set their tents up in, wherever Bodahn's wagon may be set upon wooden blocks to prevent it from rolling away, as long as these people were with them, it was home.

Her blue eyes skimmed over the various forms - from those who had been with them almost from the beginning (her eyes settled upon where Morrigan and Leliana sat, their heads together as they prepared the evening's meal) to those who just recently were added to the mix (Anders was jostled slightly as Oghren gave him a shove from the tent stake he had planted into the ground - at the wrong angle. Natia standing nearby, doubled over with laughter) - she knew that these were her family.

Rustling behind her brought a smile to her face, and she turned, watching as the tall, strong form of her husband entered the campsite, carrying two heavy buckets filled with water from a nearby stream. Now her family unit was complete.

Alistair returned the smile he saw upon the elven woman's face. Despite the smile upon his face, she could see the concern there, and she lightly touched her side and nodded, indicating that she was fine. Alistair continued on his way, a lopsided grin that widened as he marched passed to deliver the water to where the witch and bard awaited for their stew.

Her eyes scanning the darkening horizon, she felt a slight twinge in her belly. Within the next few days, they would arrive at Redcliffe. And, with luck, many of the forces they had gathered should be there as well. At Redcliffe, they would then need to decide their next course of action.

Shaking the uneasy feeling that abruptly came over her, the elven warden turned to her tent, ducking in to gather her art supplies. She needed to relax, to not dwell upon what may or may not happen once they arrived at Redcliffe. Maker's Breath! If she dreaded going to Redcliffe, how much worse Denerim? Sputtering out a sigh, she continued on her way, searching out one of the few things that helped to put her mind to ease.

DA:O

How often had the two of them separated from the others, finding a nearby log or boulder to set upon, hoping to discuss things in private in circumstances that offered so little of it? Far too often, the elf thought, believing that, once this Blight business was over and done with, she and Alistair could start some semblance of a normal life.

Well, as normal as could be for the Warden Commander of Ferelden and her Second.

She allowed a slight grin to cross her face, even as Alistair paced before her in agitation. She had no idea what he was about, why he had wanted to speak with her in private, but she was absolutely certain it had nothing to do with finding a moment for matrimonial pursuits.

Neither of them had proven to be quite so adventurous as to hazard a chance at being found out in what passed as a public setting.

So, she allowed him to pace, feeling the anxiety pour off him in waves. Finally, and despite knowing he was only trying to pull his thoughts together, Adela could stand it no more.

"Alistair," she said from her perch upon the boulder, her ankles crossed, her arms folded across her chest. He turned, seemingly startled by the sound of her voice, his face scrunching up at her. Grinning slyly, she gave a wave of her hand. "I presume you brought me here for something other than to watch you pace back and forth." Her grin widened before she added, "I hope."

Sighing, he stopped his pacing, tried to relax his face and stance. Amber eyes fixed upon her blues, and he nodded, moving closer to her, that frown still upon his face.

And, so he told her. Told her how he could no longer sense her, even as he stood this close to her. How Niall could not find her through the taint when in battle, or how Roland could not find his way to her side to act as shield as she rained arrows upon their foes. A blond brow twitched, her grin sliding into a frown as Alistair conveyed his ill ease at this circumstance.

Blue eyes closed, and Adela tried reaching out with her senses. Even shortly after her Joining, she had never been able to rely upon the senses other Grey Wardens acquired after their Joining. Other than the nightmares (and now that she thought on it, those had ceased, now replaced with nightmares of a Blight ravaged Ferelden) and changes to her courses, she had not noticed much of a change.

With a small shake of her head, she opened her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Figured as much." She only smirked slightly at Alistair's widening of eyes. "I never questioned why I could never sense the darkspawn as you can, or why neither Niall or Roland would register to my senses. I just figured I did not know how to sense them."

"So, what does this mean?" Alistair asked, moving to sit beside Adela, who shifted herself slightly to the side to allow more room for the man.

She could only shrug her shoulders and shake her head. Nodding, Alistair said, "We should discuss this with Niall and Roland." She looked up at him as he continued. "Figuring out why this happened would be a good start, don't you think?"

Biting down on her lower lip, she nodded as she hopped from the boulder. "You go search for them. I'll go wait by the fire until you are ready."

DA:O

This is foolish! He scolded himself as he made his way through the camp. But, even after speaking with Adela, his concern had not lessened. He was anxious to pull Niall and Roland into their discussion. One thought continued to assault him, and he stubbornly pushed it down time and again. He would not even consider it at this time.

Because their group had been growing considerable as of late, their campsites had grown and taken on a life of their own. Add to the confusion of a dwarven merchant and his son a rather taciturn oxen, and their campsites were noisier than normal.

He continued to wend his way, noting that both fires were blazing hot. Yes, that had been another life to add to the campsites: an additional campfire.

A side step barely prevented the wandering warden from colliding with a racing Natia, who had been glancing over her shoulder at something and not watching where she planted her feet. With a grin, the human placed both massive hands upon her slender shoulders, pulling her to a halt before she could collide - face first - into his stomach. A blush rose prettily across her cheeks. As she muttered her apology, brushing her blond curls from her blue eyes, and Alistair righted her, setting her feet firmly upon the ground beneath her. They both then continued on their own way.

It was then that the warden noticed that Adela's hound had been chasing after the dwarven girl. Probably playing tag as the beast leaped upon the much smaller dwarf, knocking her, giggling, to the ground. As Alistair continued on his way, shaking his head, he was certain he heard the young woman cry out 'Alright! I'm it!' before lapsing into another fit of giggles.

Never a dull moment…There was Anders, sitting next to Oghren, who apparently had decided to share his ale with the human mage. The mage was matching the dwarf, word for word, with his own ribald tales. Nope, do not want to know! The warden continued on, humming to himself in a effort to keep the pair's scalding words from seeping too far into his mind.

Alistair finally paused, taking in the sights around him. The Sten, as was his want, stood off to the side, his watchful eyes upon the surrounding darkness. Alistair wondered if the Qunari warrior ever grew bored with just watching all of the activity around him. Shaking his head, he realized that the answer to that would be a resounding 'No!', given how often the quiet and stoic giant would make his displeasure of too much social activity.

Wynne sat near one of the fires, leaning comfortably in the folding chair that Bodahn had sold to the elderly mage. 'Sold' being relative - word had it that the rather fatherly dwarf had given the chair to the mage, with explicit instructions that no one was to find out that he had given away such an item. And, of course, in a group such as the one they traveled in, everyone knew of his generosity within moments of the first time the chair had been set up. His head bent forward, eyes narrowing as he read the cover of the book the elder mage held in her long fingers, wizened hands. His ears burned as he read 'The Rose of Orlais' and quickly averted his eyes. Scrubbing at his head with roughened fingers, he turned away, not even allowing his mind to linger on that bit of information.

He resumed his march through the camp, right to where Zevran and Niall sat nearby, their heads together as they discussed something that Alistair was certain he really was not interested in learning more of. Despite his rather shy nature, when teamed with Zevran, Niall had a rather bawdy sense of humor. One that Alistair found himself far too often the brunt of.

The mage in question lifted his dark head, a straight eyebrow shooting up as he saw the expression upon the warrior's face. Patting Zevran's knee (the elf looked up at his lover, realizing that he had been carrying on the conversation one-sided for too long), the mage rose, a questioning look upon his face.

"Where's Roland?" the Second asked, his honey brown eyes skimming over the forms of their companions.

"I believe by the lake," the mage immediately responded, his gaze following the path he had seen the red headed warrior take just minutes prior.

"Would you go fetch him?" Alistair asked, frowning slightly. "Adela wishes to speak with us all."

"Is it about what we discussed earlier?" the mage asked as he brushed his robes down, turning to seek out the other warrior warden.

Pausing in his own turn around, Alistair nodded his head. "You got it."

With those words, the taller warden turned to search out his wife, by one of the campfires.

Alistair's self appointed task of locating Adela was rather simple for him to carry out: after all, he had foreknowledge as to where the little elf would be. Sitting by the fire that had been set near their tent, leaning her back against a log as she sat upon the dirt floor of their camp, carving knife and ivory in hand as she carved her latest creation.

The human warden grinned as he paused in his approach, his eyes settling upon the bent, blond head of the woman who was both his wife and commander. Her fingers were quick and deft as they worked in unison with her tiny knife, carving and flaking away the unwanted pieces of ivory. Alistair knew that nearly everyone in their group - from the Sten to Bodahn to Natia - each had a work of art created by their elven warden's hands. The only person who did not was their latest addition - Anders - and Alistair had it on good authority (Adela's) that this latest piece was intended to their newest mage.

He hated to disturb her. She found very few moments of peace and quiet, and he knew that she sorely missed immersing herself in what was, truly, her first love. However, he wanted to have this discussion before they reached Redcliffe. And she wanted to have this conversation. He looked up and saw that Niall and Roland were both approaching. He scuffled closer to Adela, who looked up, a small smile across her face.

"Found them, have you?" she asked, putting her carving tools back into their pouch as she frowned down at the object she was carving. Alistair glanced down to the item, noting that it had not yet taken any form. She gave him a rather tremulous smile. He knew that she had not been concentrating, but merely going through the motions.

The carving was tucked away into the pouch, hitched to her belt, and the elf rose to her feet. Both senior wardens turned to watch as the others walked toward them, their faces showing clearly the concern they had. Adela looked up at her husband, a frown upon her face. Alistair gave a slight, lopsided smile and short shrug of a shoulder as they waited for the pair to join them.

DA:O

The four wardens found themselves back at the boulder Alistair and Adela had earlier occupied. Alistair and Adela were seated upon the boulder, Roland leaning against a nearby tree, his arms folded across his chest, as Niall paced between the three. The bookish mage had a hand to his chin, a sure sign that his active mind was dissecting the information they had, piecing it together with other clues he may have collected over time.

Alistair sat staring at the older man. "The Taint doesn't just clear up!" he insisted, frowning heavily at the mage.

Niall paused, his mouth quirking slightly. "Apparently, it does." He swept a long fingered hand over to Adela, who flushed slightly.

"How could this have happened?" Adela asked, bumping Alistair's shoulder slightly with her own.

The mage dipped one shoulder up. "I have been thinking on this, and I think I may have come up with the answer."

When the mage paused, Roland scowled. "Well, do not keep us in suspense!" he growled, agitated and curious at the same time.

Shaking himself, Niall nodded as he stepped nearer to the elf. She watched him closely, her blue eyes wide as he continued. "I believe it happened during our time in Haven."

"Why Haven?" Alistair asked, confusion marring his features. Niall kept his focus upon Adela, whose eyes suddenly widened.

Nodding, the mage continued. "Consider everything we - Adela - had experienced during our time in Haven. Or, more specifically, in the Temple of Andraste." He turned to look over his shoulder at Roland, who had moved from his position against the tree, and stepped closer to the trio. Beside her, Alistair straightened, turning his head to look down upon his wife. For her part, Adela sat quietly, watching as Niall gathered his thoughts, as though preparing for a dissertation.

Ticking the occurrences upon his fingers, Niall calmly and quietly recounted, "First, there were the Flames she had to walk through." His face scrunched up as he recalled that moment. "Do you not recall what the Guardian said when you passed through the Flames?" he asked. Adela tilted her head slightly as she tried to recall the Guardian's words. Niall filled in the blanks for her. "'Like Her, you have been cleansed.'" He smiled slightly. "And, didn't you tell us that you felt a shock flow through you when the Guardian touched you?"

Her brow now scrunched up, she nodded, remembering that moment. "It was a warm shock, more as if standing in a cool stream, and a warm current flowed around you."

Nodding, Niall's smile widened slightly. "And you were the one to gather the Ashes." His gaze swept over the other two men, who were listening intently, understanding dawning clearly upon each face. "If we could expect a pinch to draw a man from a poison and demon induced coma, why could we not consider that they could aid in the curing of something like the Taint?"

"But if it were that simple…" Alistair began, but Niall was shaking his head.

"It's not that simple," the mage countered. "There were many, many things that happened to our Commander that day. The Flames cleansing her, the touch of the Guardian, the Ashes…all the healing that Morrigan and I poured into her when she was battered by the dragon…" he voice trailed off, his eyes still watching the faces of the others as they carefully tied each event into one situation.

Nodding, he remarked, "I do not think that it was one thing that cured Adela of the Taint, but a combination of each of those things. And none of it could ever be recreated, no matter how hard we would try to."

Alistair turned to look at his wife, and Niall could clearly see the relief that crossed the man's face. "So, what does this mean?" The Second turned back to the mage. "She is no longer a Warden?"

"Don't you recall what Flemeth said?" Adela whispered, her voice lost as she tried to comprehend what Niall was saying. "She called me the warden who was not a warden."

"She knew," Alistair breathed, shaking his head.

"Witch of the Wilds," Adela almost chuckled. "Damned woman knew."

As they talked, Niall sent a small tendril of seeking magic into the elf. A frown deepened upon his face as he continued the spell for many moments. Finally, the blue glow upon his hand ceased, and he straightened. "When I send magic into you, Alistair," the mage said, sending a similar flow of magic into the man. "I can 'see' the Taint. It is a black halo surrounding your aura, but it does not touch your spirit, or soul." He turned to Roland, sending out a gust of magic. "The same with you, Roland." He smiled. "The Taint is a darkness that we all take into ourselves to become Grey Wardens, and because of its source - darkspawn and Archdemon - it leaves a darkness upon us. However, it does not attach itself to that part of us that makes us who we are."

"You mean it only Taints the body, not the spirit?" Alistair clarified. Smiling, the mage nodded.

Turning to Adela, he said, "The dark aura used to be upon Adela. I know this as I had healed her prior to Haven. However, that darkness has changed, turned more into a white-gray aura. Again, one that does not touch upon her spirit. However, it is still there, still as foreign to her as the dark Taint is upon us."

"So, she has still retained the Taint?" Roland asked, frowning as he strove to understand.

"It has changed into something, but I cannot say what. It is not as…corrupt as that which we still maintain. But, it is there. That she was never proficient at sensing darkspawn or others is probably simply a matter of she had never learned how to use the Taint to do so." He shrugged. "It's my thought she may well still be able to trace us through our connection of the darkspawn. She just needs to concentrate on learning how."

"So I won't need to go through another Joining?" Adela asked. Alistair tensed beside her, and she noticed for she glanced up at him, frowning.

"I would not suggest it," Niall confirmed, shaking his head. He raised a hand again, sending forth another tendril of magic. In a firmer voice, he reiterated, "I would not recommend it."

There was something in his voice, and Adela turned to the mage. "Why not?" she asked.

A small, thoughtful frown formed across his lips as he straightened. "She already has retained the Taint, albeit in a transformed state. We could be putting her in danger by making her go through the more…archaic Joining." He shrugged. "I, personally, do not wish to risk our commander to something we know nothing about."

Alistair frowned slightly. He did not like the idea of Adela being in battle with darkspawn with what made her immune to their corruption unprotected. Of course, he reminded himself, she had been so fighting them for months, most likely as unprotected since they left Haven as she seemed to be at this time.

"Are you certain she is protected?" Alistair found himself questioning the mage, who looked up at him with a quizzical look upon his face.

There was that shrug again. Alistair was really beginning to hate that particular gesture.

"Alistair, we are dealing with an even bigger unknown than we have been dealing with, regarding the Wardens," the mage reminded the warrior, rising to his feet to stand before the man. "It is Adela's decision to make," a sweep of his hand encompassed the elf, who sat, quietly, her head bent, a thoughtful expression upon her face. "However, having learned exactly the techniques and dynamics of the Joining itself, I feel rather safe in saying that she is as protected against the darkspawn as we are."

Adela raised her head at that, her eyes flickering between Alistair and Niall, ignoring Roland, who stood in the background, his own eyes thoughtful. Taking a deep breath, the elf put in. "I will not go through the Joining at this time," she smiled softly as the two men turned their attention to her. "Like Niall said, I have been battling the darkspawn all along, and it's very likely this change occurred months ago. Until we know what we're dealing with - now - I do not like the idea of retaking the Joining, only to have it react…adversely to whatever change has occurred within me."

Alistair did not seem convinced, and a fleeting moment of irritation surged over the young elf as she watched the thoughts play across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but took one look at his wife's face, and quickly clamped his mouth shut. A blond brow rose at that, but Adela said nothing.

The wardens had decided to keep what they had determined a continued secret from their non-warden companions. Adela hated the idea of keeping such secrets, but understood the need to do so. If they spoke of how Adela was changed, that may well open up discussion regarding the Joining itself. Of their non-warden companions, only Wynne was privy to the circumstances surrounding the Joining. She had known for many years, and there had been good reason for Duncan's trust in the elderly mage.

She knew how to keep the secrets of others.

The decision made - for the time being - the four Wardens bade one another good evening.

DA:O

The next day dawned bright. Well, as bright as Blighted skies of iron gray would allow. The air was humid, the breeze providing little relief from the heat. Bodahn's wagon rumbled along behind the column of the marchers, the warriors, who normally wore heavier metal armor forgoing the extra protection for relief and ease of movement, the leather of their armor creaking with little use. Adela, walking beside Alistair, Roland and Fergus talking quietly behind them, smirked up at Alistair as he tugged at the collar of his leathern armor.

"I can never get used to this," he muttered, giving up with adjusting the collar that felt just a little too small of his thick neck. He glanced down, hoping for some sympathy from his wife. Seeing her smirk, he realized he was not about to receive any at this time.

"You are evil," he groused at her, offering down to her a playful scowl that certainly did not match the amusement in his eyes. Her smirk widened into a grin and, with a shrug of her shoulders, she increased her pace, glancing back slightly as Alistair quickened his own pace.

As the pair of senior wardens moved away from them, Fergus, with a grin, nudged into Roland's shoulders. The former knight grinned at his lifelong friend, glad for some ties to his past. As he opened his mouth to speak, there was that familiar tingle along his senses. He looked up, taking note that Alistair had paused, Adela stopping a mere foot beyond, turning to stare into the forest.

"At the ready!" Alistair shouted loudly, already pulling his blade and shield from his back.

As the others prepared for battle, the forest around them burst into movement as darkspawn erupted from the trees.

A shout of warning rose up from all of the Wardens, up the line of the companions, the Sten's war cry echoing amongst the trees. Magic flared, sending electrical jolts through the air, as the warriors rushed into the mass of corrupted bodies and the rogues melted into the shadows.

Alistair bashed his shield into the grinning face of a hurlock, smashing its nose across its face. As it bellowed out in pain, the warden thrust his blade deeply into its chest, silencing its cries.

As he fought his foe, Morrigan moved by the two senior wardens, icy spells flashing out to the surrounding darkspawn. As she drove Duncan's dagger deep into the chest of her genlock opponent, Adela turned, spying the witch.

"Watch Morrigan's back!" Adela shouted to Alistair, who, with a nod, acknowledged her order and moved closer to the witch. Satisfied he would protect their friend's back, Adela pulled her bow from her shoulder, firing arrow after arrow into the horde of darkspawn that had descended upon them.

The sound of movement behind her alerted the alert elf that one of their corrupted foes was moving behind her. Spinning around, she dropped her bow, pulling her daggers free of their sheaths. With a shout, she launched herself at the genlock, taking it off balance by her sudden aggressive move.

The warden thrust a hurlock back, away from Morrigan, dropping it to the ground. He heard Adela's shout, and turned away from the witch he was to protect, seeking out his wife. He watched as she tackled the genlock threatening her, driving her dagger deeply into its chest. Satisfied she was alright, he turned back.

The hurlock he had dropped was not dead, and had surged to its feet, its blade leading. Morrigan, in the throes of spell casting, certain that Alistair was guarding her back, had no realization of the danger until the blade thrust deeply into her side. Shocked, she was pulled from the Fade, her spell flaring to life briefly before dissipating into the nether. Gasping, she looked down at the blade protruding from her side, then up into the grinning face of the darkspawn. She watched as Alistair's blade swept the creature's head from its shoulders, and then slumped, slowly, the blade still lodged in her side, to her knees.

Dropping to his knees beside the injured mage, Alistair raised his head, calling out for a healer. Anders, nearby, heard Alistair's call and rushed to the witch's side. Adela rose from her kill, her brow furrowed in confusion and, upon seeing Morrigan injured, concern as she moved to the witch's side. Anders waved the pair of senior wardens back as he carefully pulled the blade free, his hand glowing with blue healing magic to stem the flow of blood. Morrigan knelt, patient, quiet save for the hiss of breath from between her teeth as the blade pulled free of her flesh. Assuring the pair she would be fine, the spirit healer continued with his ministrations, leaving Adela to pull Alistair away.

She said nothing, but offered a frown that spoke volumes: she was disappointed and angered by his action. Nodding him toward the bulk of the battle, the elven rogue melted into the shadows, forsaking her bow for her blades.

DA:O

Parrying with the Sten and Roland had strengthened the noble's arms, and his greatsword swept out with the same skill and deadly accuracy it had prior to his being injured at Ostagar. His mind fully focused on the battle, on the killing, clearing all other thoughts from his mind.

He had come to know a modicum of peace. Having Roland around helped with his feeling of belonging. The pair studiously avoided the subject of home, but all other topics had been fair game. It had been nearly a year since the massacre at Highever, but for Fergus, it had been mere months. He could not deal with it at this time, not until he could see the bodies…the destruction…the death for himself.

The blade parried back a skilled attack by the huge hurlock he faced off against, and a sneer crossed his scarred face. He twisted the blade, pushing it downward, pushing the hurlock's own two-handed blade downwards. The nobleman kicked out, his foot connecting solidly with the kneecap of the hurlock, and the satisfying feeling of bone and cartilage crunching added to the strength of his assault. Forcing the darkspawn back, off balanced, Fergus spun about, his blade slicing into the air in a great arc. It swept deeply into the creature's arm and shoulder, slicing the appendage and sending it to the ground in bloody rain.

Screaming, the darkspawn pushed off with its good leg, seeking to fell the noble. So focused on the battle, on the blood and death that he was able to invoke, the Teyrn of Highever twisted away from the oncoming darkspawn, turning on his heel, he brought his blade around, one handed, slicing into the thick neck of the creature, neatly decapitating it.

His target dead, flopping to the ground, Fergus Cousland stood, panting, staring down at the bloodied body. His eyes rose, taking in the fighting surrounding him. The darkspawn continued to bleed from the trees, and he wondered how they could have been caught so unawares.

Until he could have the Howes before him, kneeling in acceptance of the blood claim that was his, he would settle for killing darkspawn.

DA:O

Anger and disappointment fueled her own battle sense, and the elven warden fought with a ferocity that she had not experienced since her flight from the Tower of Ishal upon witnessing Cailan's death. However, unlike that time, she was fully in possession of her faculties, and so moved silently in the shadows, stabbing out at the darkspawn who fought her companions, injuring or felling many in her wake.

A realization came over her as she continued to fight against the darkspawn and her disappointment in Alistair. She stopped her assault upon the blighted creatures, scanning the area about them.

Maybe she had gone crazy, but she was now certain that there were many more non-blighted creatures fighting the blighted ones than when they had began.

Rushing along the shadows, forgoing the killing of darkspawn for the moment, Adela made her way to the vaguely familiar shaggy forms that battled alongside her longtime companions.

DA:O

Blood spattered his heavy armor, his swings slowing slightly from the constant wielding of the heavy blade. Yet, as tired as he was becoming, as certain that his own death could well be found upon the blade of his next foe.

And so he turned, relishing the feeling as that blade took the life of yet another darkspawn. He staggered as he was slammed from behind, and he stumbled forward, his blade sweeping to the side as he tripped forward. Spinning, he narrowly missed the thrust of a darkspawn blade, and as he twisted, he felt his ankle give away beneath him. Cursing profusely, he hobbled back, turning to face his latest opponent.

A huge, dark form rose up behind the hurlock that grinned over at the noble, familiar to the noble. A grin replaced the grimace of pain as the noble warrior watched as the hurlock before him practically broke apart from the shear force of the blow from the spiked war hammer that battered it to the ground.

"Apumayta," Fergus breathed with relief as he skipped forward, favoring his injured ankle, the huge Chasind warrior sweeping the Highever noble into a tight bear hug.

"Little Brother," the warrior growled out, pushing the man at arm's length, a huge, bloody grin splayed across his face.

It was then that Fergus looked up, taking note that many of the darkspawn were falling, and not simply by the blade, spell or arrow of those companions he had traveled with these past few months. The huge forms of Chasind warriors rose amongst the darkspawn, and other, slightly smaller, humanoid forms slashed and felled as many of the blighted creatures.

Turning to his friend, the noble found himself grinning like a madman. "You really know how to make an entrance, Big Brother," he clapped the larger man upon the shoulder, wincing at the sting that tingled along his fingers, even through the metal of his gauntlet.

Returning that fierce grin, the Chasind pulled a healing potion from his pouch, handing it to the noble. "If it is your desire to fell more fiends," Apumayta commented wryly, "you would do well to drink this." He glanced meaningfully at Fergus' injured ankle.

Sheepishly, the noble ducked his head, accepting the potion gratefully. It looked like he would not be out of the fight after all.

DA:O

Most of the new warriors fought with two blades - long sword and dagger, some wielding two long swords effortlessly. They were men and women, all dressed in rough leathern armor, long hair either pulled back in tight braids or floating about their fierce visages in wild manes. She was certain she recognized them as she moved closer, her dagger slicing into a distracted genlock's throat as she stepped closer to the newcomers.

It was when the largest of the men turned, his tawny eyes fixing upon her, a wide, wild grin crossed his fierce face. Those eyes, so filled with bloodlust, were far more predatory than Morrigan's strange yellow orbs.

"Swiftrunner," the Warden Commander greeted as the pair met upon the battlefield. Another male, almost as large, his blond hair as wild a mane as Swiftrunner's red-gold tresses, but with a less bloodthirsty smile upon his face.

"Gatekeeper," she nodded to the newcomer, her eyes going back to the carnage that surrounded them. The darkspawn were almost all felled, and she took note that the larger warrior forms that she was certain were not Swiftrunner's people, moved amongst the creatures and her own people.

"It seems that we arrived in time to assist," Gatekeeper's deep voice rumbled over her. She looked back to the former werewolf, her smile widening. Gatekeeper's brown eyes swept to the larger forms as well. "And it appears we're not the only ones."

"Do you know who they are?" the elf asked of her two companions. Swiftrunner's grin widened as he nodded.

"You have more than the Wolves of the Forest at your back, Warden," the leader of the werewolves assured her as he steered her toward the other newcomers.