Extra lives Chapter 2 The Joining, a dragon age fanfic

The clang of steel against steel rang out across the training grounds, the sound sharp and clear in the crisp morning air. Duncan moved with a practiced grace, his longsword a blur of precise strikes and calculated parries. He was a master of traditional swordplay, every movement honed by years of training and experience. I, on the other hand… well, I was something else entirely someone who was just trying not to get her head cut off by a swinging sword.

He doesn't go easy on me at all.

I feinted to his left, my sword flashing in the sunlight, then abruptly dropped to the ground, tucking my shoulder and rolling. It wasn't elegant, it certainly wasn't textbook Grey Warden, but it was effective. My legs swept out from under him, and I heard a surprised grunt as he landed heavily on ground.

I scrambled back to my feet, grinning as I offered him a hand up. He took it, dusting off his dark leather armor with a sigh. "Gwenet," he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement, "that's… unorthodox."

"Effective, though, right?" I countered, my grin widening. I couldn't help it; I enjoyed throwing him off balance. It wasn't about winning, not really. It was about seeing that flicker of surprise in his eyes, the momentary hesitation before he adjusted to my unpredictable style.

He conceded with a slight shake of his head. "Effective, perhaps," he said, "but not… becoming of a Grey Warden. We rely on discipline and strategy, not… trickery."

I shrugged, letting my sword rest on my shoulder. "Sometimes trickery is the best strategy," I argued. "Especially when you're facing something bigger, stronger, or… well, just plain nastier than you." I thought back to the darkspawn in the forest, their grotesque forms and savage attacks. Sometimes, a well-placed kick or a quick roll was all that stood between you and a gruesome death.

Duncan sighed again, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. "I understand your… pragmatism, Gwenet," he said. "But the Grey Wardens are more than just survivors. We are leaders, strategists, and symbols of hope. We must inspire confidence, not… confusion."

"And how am I supposed to inspire confidence by fighting fair against a horde of monsters?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are they going to stop and say, 'Oh, look, she's fighting with honor! Let's give her a chance to regroup'?"

Duncan chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "You have a point," he admitted. "But there is a balance, Gwenet. Adaptability is important, but you must also master the fundamentals. You can't rely on trickery alone." He picked up his sword, his expression turning serious. "Now," he said, his voice firm, "we're going to try that again. But this time… we'll do it properly."

He took his stance, his sword held in a classic guard position. "No rolling," he instructed, his eyes fixed on me. "No dropping to the ground. We'll focus on footwork, parrying, and proper strikes. Understand?"

I sighed dramatically, but I straightened up and took my own stance, mimicking his as best I could. It felt stiff and awkward, so different from my usual fluid movements. "Understood," I muttered, adjusting my grip on my sword.

"Good," Duncan said, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

He lunged forward, his sword a blur of motion. I barely managed to parry the strike, the force of it jarring my arm. He pressed his attack, forcing me to step back, parrying and blocking each strike. It was a relentless assault, but it was also a lesson. He was showing me the proper way, the disciplined way, the way of the Grey Wardens.

I focused on his movements, trying to mimic his footwork and his precise strikes. It was frustrating at first, my body wanting to revert to its usual unpredictable tactics. But as we continued, I began to find a rhythm, a flow to the movements. It wasn't as flashy or as immediately effective as my usual style, but there was a power and a control to it that I had never experienced before.

After several minutes of intense sparring, Duncan finally stepped back, lowering his sword. "Better," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "Still needs work, but it's a start. Remember, Gwenet, adaptability is a valuable asset, but it must be built on a foundation of solid fundamentals."

I nodded, my chest heaving, my muscles burning. It was exhausting, but I had to admit, it felt… different. There was a sense of accomplishment in mastering these new techniques, a feeling of control that I hadn't felt before. Maybe there was something to this "proper" way of fighting after all.

"I'll be traveling to Denerim soon, to recruit more potential Wardens. I expect you to continue practicing while I'm gone. Don't let what I've shown you today go to waste."

I nodded, feeling a flicker of apprehension at the thought of being left to my own devices. "I will,". he looked at me as if he didn't believe me "And try not to make the templars mad" He warned me

The days after Duncan's departure stretched into a week, then two. Ostagar felt strangely quiet without his presence. Allistair continued his training with the other recruits, but there was a noticeable lack of the usual stern but guiding hand. I tried to focus on my own practice, diligently working on the drills Duncan had shown me. The disciplined movements still felt awkward, but I was starting to get the hang of it.

But without Duncan there to keep me in line, a certain… restlessness began to creep in. The training was important, I knew, but it was also… boring. And the Templars, with their rigid adherence to rules and their perpetually grim expressions, were making the atmosphere even more stifling.

That's when the idea struck me. It started small, a simple scattering of birdseed on the Chantry roof, just enough to "encourage" the local pigeons to find a new roost. The Templar training grounds, specifically. The result was… amusing, to say the least. Feathers drifted down like snow, coating the Templars' armor and disrupting their drills. Their sputtering and frustrated shouts provided a much-needed dose of levity to the camp.

Emboldened by my success, I decided to escalate things a bit. The Templars' lyrium supply was kept in a large, heavy chest, usually stored inside their main tent. It wasn't exactly Fort Knox, and I noticed they often left it unlocked during their evening prayers. It wasn't stealing, I reasoned, just… relocating. With a bit of effort and some strategic maneuvering, I managed to drag the heavy chest behind their tent, concealing it amongst some thick bushes.

The next morning, the Templars were in a frenzy. Their tent was turned inside out, their belongings scattered across the ground. Their frantic search for the missing lyrium provided me with another source of amusement, though I made sure to keep my face carefully neutral when I passed by. It wasn't long before they found it, of course, but the sheer panic on their faces had been worth the effort. I giggle from beside Allistair as he lets out a small chuckle.

"Oh, come on, Allistair," I said, grinning. "It's just a bit of fun. They need to lighten up."

"Perhaps," Allistair conceded, "but with Duncan gone… there's no one to protect you from their… displeasure." He paused, his expression turning more serious. "Just… try to behave yourself, Gwenet. At least until Duncan gets back."

I shrugged, but I knew he was right. I probably should tone it down, at least a little. But the image of the pigeon-covered Templar and the frantic search for the lyrium chest was just too amusing to resist.

The training grounds were quiet, the usual sounds of practice replaced by the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees. I was going through the sword forms Duncan had shown me, trying to keep my movements precise and disciplined, but my mind kept wandering. It had been several days since he'd left for Denerim, and the camp felt strangely empty without his presence.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I turned, and my eyes widened in surprise. It was Duncan, returning earlier than I'd expected. But he wasn't alone. Standing beside him was a young woman with dark red hair and striking features. She wore simple traveling clothes, but there was a certain intensity in her eyes that caught my attention.

"Gwenet," Duncan said, his voice carrying across the training grounds. He gestured to the woman beside him. "This is Ela. I found her… in need of our assistance." He paused, a hint of seriousness in his voice. "She has agreed to join the Grey Wardens."

I blinked, surprised. Another recruit? So soon? I offered Ela a tentative smile. "Welcome to Ostagar," I said. "I'm Gwenet."

Ela nodded, her expression reserved. "Ela Tabris," she replied, her voice quiet but firm. her ears pointed clearly shes a elf and a cute one at that.

Duncan turned to me, his expression becoming more businesslike. "Gwenet, I need you to take Ela to Allistair. He'll explain the basics and get her settled in." He glanced around the training grounds. "And perhaps… keep her out of trouble," he added, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He knew about the pigeons.

I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "Sure, Duncan," I said. "I'll keep her on the straight and narrow." I turned to Ela. "Come on," I said, gesturing towards the main camp. "Allistair's probably by the old temple. He's usually there when he's not… well, doing anything important."

As we walked towards the camp, I couldn't help but wonder about Ela. She seemed quiet and serious, a stark contrast to my own more… impulsive nature. But there was something else there too, a hidden strength, a determination that I recognized. I had a feeling we were going to get along just fine. Or at least, things would be interesting.