Ah ha….okay, so this chapter is shorter than I had want it to be. Like the previous chapter, I chopped it so that I could post. RL is really taking its toll on me, so I figured better to get something out there sooner rather than later (there's a really good excuse...I'm certain).

My thanks, as always, to those who read, lurk and alert this story. My most grateful thanks to those who review: Wyl, Shakespira, Arsinoe de Blassenville, ffspice (new reviewer!), Hitchisuki-Hime (another new reviewer! Woot!)

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 69

Voices were raised – some in anger, others in derision, while still others merely weary, trying to be heard over the din – directing the Warden and her group to where a group of elves faced off against other elves, a smaller group of humans standing by the extra space just off Alarith's storefront.

And in the center of it all, stood Adela's younger cousin, Shianni. Her red hair glinted in the sun with each movement, hanging loosely about her shoulders as her strong alto penetrated through the din of those gathered nearby, dragging their attention to her whether the speakers and bystanders wished it or not. That was Shianni's charm – no one, no matter had hard they tried, could ignore the brash young woman once her hackles were raised.

And it seemed that, as per the norm for the volatile young woman, her hackles were raised – and had been so for a very long time, if the tired expression and dark circles beneath her normally warm brown eyes were any indication.

There were those who stood shoulder to shoulder alongside the redhead. Adela was not surprised to see Naomi among those who glared at the elves standing before the makeshift hospice just beyond the shop, guarded by humans garbed in armor unfamiliar to the young Warden. A tall male elf, Taeodor, stood nearby, his thoughtful gaze fixed upon the door of the hospice. Seeing Elva beside Shianni, however, was a surprise to the young Warden.

"Somehow I just knew that, if there was trouble, you would be smack in the center of it all," Adela drawled, folding her arms across her chest as her words drifted to the ears of her younger cousin. Those tired brown eyes widened and the fiery redhead turned, those orbs fixing upon the diminutive figure of the leather clad elven woman not far from her own position.

Everyone else within Shianni's sphere quieted as well, watching as the redhead took one hesitant step forward, then broke out into a quick trot to grab her wayward and presumed dead cousin into a tight, bone jarring embrace.

"Adela!" the younger woman breathed, clinging to the blonde elf, hands locking behind Adela's back in an attempt to not loose hold of the vision Shianni was certain she was holding onto.

Struggling slightly, smirking widely, Adela brought her arms around her larger cousin, hugging her back tightly as she shifted ever so slightly, seeking to loosen the bear hug she was encompassed within.

"You're supposed to be dead," Shianni murmured, tightening her hold as she felt her cousin struggle to get loose.

"I keep being told that," grinning with a tilt of her head, she continued, "but the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," Adela whispered, giving up on gaining the freedom she sought, reluctantly relaxing in Shianni's hold, understanding the other woman's need for that tactile assurance that what she held was not a vision. "And, you know how rumor can be…"

Chuckling, her movements shaking both women, Shianni finally relaxed her death grip to peer into Adela's worn face. "Yeah, half lie, half worthless wishes, with a spattering of the truth mixed in."

"As you can see," mischief twinkled in Adela's blue eyes, and finally Shianni released her, taking a bare step back to remain within her elder cousin's personal space.

"I spoke with Soris," Adela's voice was soft as she watched Naomi and Elva, followed by the few others she had never really gotten to know, form a semi-protective circle around the cousins, as though seeking to keep their existence from being known to the humans that guarded the exterior of the door into the hospice. Shianni's face dropped further at the mention of her brother and Adela placed a hand upon the other's arm. "We'll figure this out," the warden promised, hardly flinching at her own words.

"Let's hope so," Shianni murmured, doing her best to offer up her familiar smirk, realizing how miserably she failed.

"Idiots keep lining up, though," Elva interrupted, frowning petulantly at the elven Warden. "They don't even consider how many vanish in the hospice as opposed to how many actually leave…"

"Or who the ones that get to leave are," Naomi piped in, her soft voice floating between the groups.

Adela nodded, frowning deeply as she recalled the conversation she had with Soris. Lifting her head, the elf eyed first the guards and then the door. Glancing down at herself, she reached up, carefully tucking in her amulet with the Warden insignia engraved upon it. Glancing at the others, she tilted her head, indicating they step forward.

"I want you guys to disappear a bit," the warden instructed her companions, each of whom frowned deeply at the woman, "except for you, Zev. You're coming in with me."

"What do you mean by that, my Warden?" Zevran asked, his curiosity overriding his own good sense about sending away their strongest fighter and healer.

"You and I are going to get inside the hospice," she said, her gaze settling back to the doorway. "If Soris and Shianni are correct, they would gladly welcome the two of us within." Her blue eyes settled back upon the handsome elven male.

"Ah, I see," the assassin drawled as he pulled free his sword and handed it over to Anders, who held the bladed weapon almost gingerly in his hands.

As Adela pulled her bow and quiver free of her shoulders, handing them to Oghren, the mage spoke up. "Now wait just a minute, Adela," the elf lifted her eyes, blonde brows quirking upwards at the near petulant tone in the mage's voice. "You really expect us to just let you and Zevran walk into that den unarmed?"

"We won't be unarmed," Adela smirked, turning as Zevran pulled free a small blade from one boot, and then a second longer dirk from beneath his armor. "And I have a blade or two hidden as well." She bent to pull a dagger free of her boot sheath. "See? We should be fine."

"Ah, in case you have forgotten," Anders persisted, "you're a far better archer than melee fighter."

Sighing, Adela straightened. "I can handle myself with a blade," her own tone weary, eyes narrowing. "Besides, it's not as though we can enter fully armed like we are. I hate the notion of trying to enter wearing armor, but hopefully that won't deter their greed overly much."

Anders glared at the young elf for a few minutes, certain that what she and Zevran planned was a very bad idea. Oghren chuckled darkly, shaking his redhead. "You really want us t'have to tell the Pike Twirler you went into enemy territory nearly unarmed and undermanned?"

Sighing as she pressed fingers to her forehead, Adela turned to her dwarven friend. "I really wish you would not call Alistair that, Oghren."

"Yeah, well, wishes in one hand and shit 'n the other, see which fills up first," the dwarf shot back, a smirk crossing his craggy features.

"Besides," Adela pressed, ignoring the dwarf's comment, "Zev and I will be fine. We go in, find out what's going on in there, and get out. You guys," she pointed to the mage and dwarf, "be ready out here in case they," she pointed toward the guards, "get any ideas."

Anders' attention went back to those guarding the exterior of the building. "You do realize that two of those guards are mages, right?" he asked as he looked back to the elf.

"That's why you two are going to be ready to stop them should they get any bright ideas," the cheerful tone in Adela's voice did little to appease the growing unease that settled in the blond mage's chest.

However, he chose not to argue with the girl any further. He knew well how stubborn Adela could be. And, given the current circumstances, he had to agree – the guards would most likely allow the two elves in, but not elves accompanied by a human and a dwarf.

Not if what they thought was going on was, indeed, going on.

Shaking his head, he growled to himself. "Sometimes I wonder just what I got myself into when I agreed to join up with you and your merry band of misfits," the mage groused, soft brown eyes narrowed at the humor that crossed the elven warden's face.

"You'd be bored out of your mind, Anders," Adela patted his arm before straightening her armor, "and you know it."

"Or happily back in solitary in the Tower basement," Anders muttered, earning a careful glance from the elven woman. Inwardly he groaned; he had not meant to worry the young woman and so flashed what he hoped was a disarming smile.

After another glance at the mage, Adela turned back to offer a few more words to her cousin as both Anders and Oghren proceeded to make themselves scarce.

Adela and Zevran moved to step away from the group, but Shianni's restraining arm caused the elven woman to pause. Looking up into her cousin's concerned eyes, she waited. "Be careful, Cousin," Shianni's voice was soft, concern filled. "We just got you back."

Smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, Adela gently patted her cousin's hand before pulling away. With a tilt of her head, indicating that Zevran was to follow, the elven warden stepped toward the humans.

DA:O

The red haired trouble maker and her followers were back. Without even looking up, the Tevinter mage was fully aware of the troublesome group that, as it did every day, stood just beyond the perimeter of their hospice. Hague sighed deeply as his brown eyes skimmed over the various groups of elves that seemed to be permanently stationed outside of the hospice, skimming quickly over the ever familiar forms of the elven women and men that stood around the redheaded spit fire. With her pale skin, delicate, sharp features and fiery hair, the girl would have been perfect for sending off to the Imperium. However, her troublesome manner and acerbic tongue made taking her complicated. Now, had they been within the boundaries of any of the Imperium's territories, her sharp temperament would simply be…realigned prior to shipment. Here, however, in this backwater country...

His thoughts trailed off as his eyes settled upon a pair of fair skinned and hair elves made their way around the troublemakers toward them.

The female was, quite frankly, perhaps the prettiest, most delicate looking female he had seen in the alienage to date. Yet, her tanned skin and sun-kissed blonde hair bespoke of a great deal of time out of doors. As she neared, he took note of the dark circles under cerulean eyes.

Scrutiny shifted to the slightly taller male that strolled by her side. Honey blond hair hung to his shoulders, and he, too, sported tanned skin. The tattoo upon his right cheek did nothing to deter from the natural beauty of the man, and Hague once again found himself enthralled with the natural beauty the elven people possessed. Truly, despite the fact that the two approaching did not maintain the alabaster flesh most preferred in the delicate seeming race, they were perhaps the prettiest pair he had seen in some time.

Shifting his face, he assumed a mask of concern as he hurriedly stepped forward, his hands rising to encompass the pair. "My dears! How long have you been ill?" He asked, lacing his voice with the proper amount of concern. He noticed their brow scrunch slightly, a frown forming upon the female's full lipped mouth, but it was the male that spoke.

"I, Ser, feel somewhat tired," he spoke with an Antivan accent, "whilst my darling sister here has been complaining of a rather persistent fatigue."

Hague forced down his smile as he shuffled the pair toward the door leading into the hospice. "Please, please…you must get inside to see one of our physicians! Your symptoms do not sound threatening at this time, however, should you wait too long…"

"Si," the male responded as he placed a hand to his 'sister's' back, "I worry so for my little Dulcinea."

"As well you should," Hague smirked slightly as he looked down upon the girl's pretty features. "Such a lovely sister you have, to be concerned for."

"Ah, indeed," the male continued as a guard opened the door for them, "'Tis a hardship indeed keeping this one well and cared for. But, alas," he placed a hand over his heart, "but, what else are big brothers for, eh?"

Chuckling, Hague waved the pair inside, watching as the door closed behind the pair. Already, his quick mind was counting the coin that pair would bring in.

DA:O

"Did you really have to overdue the whole 'big brother' act?" Adela muttered between clenched teeth as they were escorted into the main room of the 'hospice'.

Chuckling beside her, Zevran reached down and grasped one of Adela's much smaller hands in his. "Tsk, tsk," he chuckled again, "I did it to keep him from speaking directly to you, my dearest little sister," he bent slightly to kiss her hand, grinning up at the guard who turned to look at the pair. Lowering his voice more, Zevran bent further down to Adela. "You know you couldn't lie to save your own life, let alone those within the Alienage."

The Warden glared at her friend as she allowed herself to be led deeper into the building. Turning her attention from her grinning friend, her blue eyes scanned over the area. "Doesn't really look much like a hospice, does it?" she asked, her voice still quite low.

Zevran shook his head, not saying a word, as he straightened. Adela recognized the assassin's movements for what they were: he was preparing himself for a fight. With nervous quickness, the elven warden took in the area – notably counting out how many guards stood within the chamber. Six, including a man dressed in robes.

The Antivan glanced down at his companion, taking note that she was taking in the scene before them. Nodding slightly, he continued to follow the lone guardsman who led them to the mage.

The mage was young, that much was perfectly clear to the former Crow. Pale blond hair flowed in riotous waves around his face while dark blue eyes peered from a face far too young and pale to be so far from home. Ink stained fingers brushed along the edges of the desk beside him, and Zevran realized that this young mage was perhaps barely out of apprenticeship; most likely a scribe.

Still, a mage was a mage, and the assassin braced himself mentally to take the young one out of the fight first.

Beside him, he could feel the tension flow from Adela as she, too, took stock of those within the room. Normally, facing a mere half dozen opponents would not deter the elder elf, however, as their companions had pointed out previously, hand to hand combat was not the female's strong suit. Honey brown eyes lifted once more to stare at the mage, affecting just the right amount of awe and wonder to put the young human at ease, even permitting a slight cocky smirk to grace his youthful features.

Ah, to be young and foolish…the elven assassin mused as the pair of elves neared the mage, hands already straying to hidden blades.

They had to dispatch with the Tevinters quickly and as quietly as possible in order to affect a careful search of the premises before those without realized anything else was afoot than the mere acquisition of a pair of pretty elves.

In one fluid movement, Zevran had his blade bared and slicing through the air, slashing across the throat of the young mage, spraying the Tevinter's life blood in the air. Grateful yet again for the numerous runes young Sandal had embedded within the blade – including one particularly effective against spellcasters – the elven assassin turned, ducking down to pull free a second blade from one of his boots, spinning a circuit as he rose up behind an approaching soldier, driving both blades into the man's back – one into a kidney, the other directly into the spine, severing the bone. With a screech, the guardsman fell in a writing heap beside the mage who bled out upon the floor.

Thankful for her companion's quickness, Adela dropped to the ground, pulling the blades free of their boot sheaths. Scuttling across the floor, she kicked out at the knee of an oncoming warrior, the heel of her boot connecting solidly to smash the thin bone. Grunting out in pain, the warrior remained upon his feet, slashing downwards at the elf, not caring at this point over the lost profits in his intent to kill her.

Frowning, Adela leaped to her feet, dancing away from the slashing blade as she ducked, spinning slightly to the man's side, slashing out with both daggers. A wave of blood followed the path of the blades, and the warrior growled out his pain, hopping around on his uninjured leg as he slashed out again, albeit weakly, to try and catch the elf. With a shake of her head, Adela ducked down, stepping just behind the man, to stab both blades into his right side, the long blades of the daggers slicing through flesh and muscle, arcing upward to pierce a lung. Gasping, the man fell, and Adela bent slightly to offer a killing slash to the man's throat before righting herself to face another foe.

Any concern Zevran felt for Adela's presence within a hand to hand battle were quickly dispelled as he watched the young warden dance and spin around the floor, easily dodging the clumsy swings of the human warriors. Her battle with the first guardsman had, in his opinion, taken far too long, and he made a mental note to teach the girl how best to take out an opponent quickly and effectively. He grinned at the thought of the girl counteroffering to teach him how to hold a bow more effectively.

Still, in a matter of minutes, the mage and guardsmen lay upon the blood soaked floor in various positions. All quite dead. The former Crow glanced over at Adela, who was bent over the body of the mage, searching through the numerous pockets and pouches strapped along the mage's robes. Zevran decided that he would not bring to her attention that she took out two of their foes to his four.

"Ah ha," Adela murmured in triumph as she pulled free a brass key from one of the pouches. Zevran grinned down at her as he paced to the desk, shuffling through the paperwork and other piles placed neatly thereupon. A frown crossed his face as he pulled free what appeared to be a ledger, detailing the elves that had been brought to the hospice over the previous months.

Rising, Adela joined the other elf by the desk, her blue eyes scanning over the neat writing. Unfortunately…"I can't read Tevinter," she growled softly, "can you?"

Shaking his head, Zevran took the list and tucked it securely into an abandoned pouch and then secured it to his belt. "I cannot," he admitted aloud, eyes drifting to a door nearest them. "I would imagine that either of our Circle trained mages could well decipher this for us, perchance?"

Nodding, Adela brandished the key she had secured from the mage that lay dead at her feet and made her way to the door opposite the desk. Relief flowed through her as it fit the keyhole and she gave a turn, unlocking the door with an audible 'click'.

The door opened with a soft creak, opening to mere inches without a push. Low voices could be heard emanate from the room beyond and both elves glanced at one another, blades held at the ready in hand. Zevran pushed the door open further and stepped back to allow Adela to step in first.

Cages lined the walls, packed full with elves of all ages. So fully packed were the cages that those that could not stand crouched upon the filthy floors, usually with one hand pressed to the floor to keep their balance with the other held up to prevent those standing above them from stepping upon them. A low grumble to her side brought Adela's attention to her companion, and she nearly gasped at the naked anger that appeared upon the normally unflappable elf's handsome face. She recalled a conversation with Zevran as he spoke to her of his earlier days as a slave. Glancing around at those enclosed within the cold metal cages, she found it difficult to picture a child Zevran so helpless and despairing.

Of course, time changes every fortune. Adela herself was proof of such a thing.

Pausing, she half turned, twisting her head to look at her friend. "You alright?" she asked in a low voice, fully aware that the elves within the cages had gone silent upon the entrance of the pair. Zevran met her gaze fully, his full lips twisting into a smirk.

"Why, of course, My Warden," he purred smoothly, brushing by her as she turned back toward the room. "Come. Let us see what is to be seen, yes?"

Frowning, Adela stepped fully into the room, stifling the gag reflex at the stale air. The elves had been cared for on a superficial level: they appeared fairly clean, and the air's staleness came from a lack of ventilation, and not from poor hygiene. Carefully, the pair of elven rogues went over to separate cages, carefully checking over the locking mechanisms. Those within the cage Zevran bent forward, breaths held, as they watched the elven male with a mixture of apprehension and hope.

Those within the case Adela had stepped to appeared to immediately recognize their missing daughter, and pressed forward, hands clasping eagerly at the bars, breath held, as the girl worked the lock to release those imprisoned within.

Adela was amazed – and rather proud – that those within the cages, save for a cage filled with children, had managed to remain silent as she and Zevran worked the locks. Despite having killed all of the Tevinters within the building, there still stood almost a dozen of them – including at least two elder mages – just beyond the front door.

And neither knew if those were all of the Tevinters within the vicinity of the 'hospice' or if more skulked about.

As the last of the cage doors were pulled open, the elves surged forward, whispering out questions, asking about loved ones or the Blight, fewer asking about Adela herself and her companion, and were they there to stop the slavers.

Letting the words flow over her, Adela's blue eyes skimmed the crowd, looking for more familiar faces. She knew many of those within the room – more passing acquaintances, none friends or family. The children had been slower emerging from their cage, and the young woman took note of a tall, masculine form, bent over the smaller elves as they crowded around him, many crying and seeking comfort and refuge within his arms and personal space.

A frown furrowed her brow, and Adela stepped away from the clutching hands and anxious words, twisting and slipping through the crowd of the few dozen elves they had just freed from their cages. At her approach, several of the smaller children squeaked in fear before fixing their eyes upon their rescuer. Giving them a small, comforting smile, the elven warden stepped closer, eyes fixed upon the bent head of ragged blond hair that fell in dirty waves across the man's shoulders, curtaining off his face.

That head lifted slightly, tilting, still framed and shadowed by the heavy fall of hair. Adela's movements ceased as the feeling that she knew this man swept over her. The small movements he made seemed familiar, as did the broad shoulders and large hands that now held the quivering children to him, shielding them from any further threat. Taking a breath, Adela knelt down, smiling at one small child, turning her face to watch as the male elf turned more fully to her.

There was a tightening in her chest and the very breath from her lungs seemed heavy and thick as dark blue eyes fixed upon her own, recognition crossing the handsome but bedraggled face just mere feet in front of her.

Swallowing past a thick throat, Adela inched nearer, a hand rising to brush the oily strands of blond hair from the male's gaunt face.

"Nelaros?"

DA:O

They had been inside for some time, and both Anders and Oghren were starting to become worried. Stepping from the shadowed area behind the building, the pair watched as the dozen or so guards and their mage handlers continued to glare at the various groups of elves.

"Have you noticed how any pretense of care seems to have gone out the window?" Anders asked of his dwarven companion, his brown eyes fixed upon the mages – blood mages, he was certain – that stood mere feet from the front door.

"Hrumph!" Oghren growled out, green eyes narrowing. "No need to get your panties in a bunch yet, mage," the dwarven warrior bit out, eyes shifting to glare at the human. "Them two elves can handle themselves pretty good. For bein' so skinny, that is."

"Still," Anders said as he stepped closer, "I think that if we spot any of those try to enter…"

"Way ahead of ya, blondie," Oghren smirked. "If any of 'em there tries to get inside, we just gotta stop 'em, jes as the lassie said." He turned to fully face the mage. "Got it."

Nodding, Anders' gaze shifted to watch as Shianni spot final words to her companions before turning in their direction. "I think Shianni's coming this way," Anders remarked, watching as the elven girl confidentally headed in their direction.

Oghren chuckled. "Got's a lot of spit and fire that one," he remarked, casting an admiring glance at the approaching elf. "Must be the hair color."

Shaking his head, Anders frowned. "Hair color has nothing to do with it," the mage replied. "Did a study on that once back at the tower. Besides, Adela's has plenty of fire and she's a sunbeam."

Scoffing, Oghren turned slightly toward the human. "Yeah, but she's more controlled and doesn't have that killer instinct," he pounded himself at the chest with one fist. "That one," he pointed a gnarled finger at the quickly approaching girl. "she's a real firecracker. Adela'd do well to get her to be a warden."

At that comment, Anders frowned, shaking his head. "I doubt she would, Oghren. Haven't you noticed her…reluctance to induct new Wardens?"

Oghren's reply was a scowl, but he voiced nothing as Shianni approached.

"I'm getting worried," the elven girl muttered as she approached the pair, perfectly echoing their own concern.

"Don't worry," Anders replied in his perfected 'healer' voice. "Zevran's practically in his element."

"And Adela?" Shianni could not help but ask, still having a difficult time acquainting her quiet, gentle cousin with the warden they sent inside.

Here the dwarf chuckled at the girl's ill ease. "Lassie there can handle her own, girlie," he shifted his stance slightly, twitching his shoulders to adjust his heavy war axe that hung down his back. "She's fought darkspawn, demons and worse. A few mamby-pamby mages ain't gonna ruffle her feathers much."

Blanching at the thought of Adela fighting such monster, Shianni turned to stare at the doors to the hospice. Biting at her lip, she turned back. "Do you think that perhaps we should…even the odds for them a bit?"

Brow furrowing, Anders frowned. "How do you mean?"

"She means we take out them there Tevints that are jes' standin' about, 's'what she means!" Oghren spat.

"Wouldn't that just bring unwanted attention to Adela and Zev?" Anders was concerned. "Adela's orders were…"

Spitting, Oghren snarled out, "I see an obstacle, magey," Oghren muttered darkly. "An' I say we gots to remove that obstacle…"

"Think about it," Shianni offered, surprised that she was making such a suggestion. "If Adela and Zevran find something inside, how are they going to be able to leave, knowing that there's an army of Tevinter guardsmen and mages just outside the doors?"

"But, Adela was very specific that we remain out of sight…" Anders continued to argue even as the dwarf pulled his axe free of its holster.

"Even the lass can't always think of everything," the dwarven warrior growled out, a feral gleam in his eyes. "I say we clear the path for their escape." He ignored Anders' continued sputtering, turning toward the elven girl. "Yo, girl," Shianni frowned slightly at the address, "you an' yours gots any weapons?"

"Knives and perhaps a bow or two?" She sounded uncertain.

Nodding, Oghren began to push her away, "Good. Get them and ready 'em. We're gonna clear a path."