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Duncan was already drawing his blade and running when Alistair heard the scream. It was panicked and mixed with garbled attempts at words. Words that may or may not have been something like ‘get away’ but Alistair couldn’t tell as the howls of darkspawn picked up and overrode it. Rounding the bend in the thickly treed path revealed a fat little man in baggy dark clothes only made darker by blood. They were backed against one of the larger trees brandishing a branch and lashing madly at the darkspawn that were nearby.Hefting his sword in one hand while the other unclipped his shield from his back, Alistair jumped into the fray. After a handful of darkspawn were felled, he noticed that the man had abandoned his stick for one of the dead darkspawn’s blades. His swings were wild and untrained but there was determination there. It wasn’t long before they had cut down the majority of the darkspawn and the few stragglers fled back into the ruins. The stranger stood there, shaking and staring at the bodies as Alistair and Duncan approached.“Ho there.” Duncan greeted.The man looked up, his pale skin almost ghostly behind the smears of red and black bloods. Panting, he gulped hard before speaking in a surprisingly soft and youthful voice, “Uh… hi.”“What brings you to these woods, traveler?” Duncan asked, cleaning off his blade on the grass before using a cloth to get the last of the gore off.“These woods?” The man repeated, looking lost. Despite not saying much he had an accent that was thick and odd enough that Alistair would have bet his favorite traveling cheese they weren’t local. If he’d been pressed to guess, he’d hazard that the man was a straggler from one of the rich merchant caravan’s trying to outrun the darkspawn-- or from a group of travelers that hadn’t listened to the warnings of darkspawn attacks.
The man turned, looking around himself as if only just registering all of the trees as he said, “I--... I’m not sure? I was… I just woke up with one of those things standing over me. I-- I think--”If he was going to say anything more it was lost as he somehow paled further-- an impressive feat considering his original complexion-- and whirled around to vomit in the bushes just behind him. As the stranger braced themself on the tree nearby, Alistair spotted something that Duncan likely had already seen on the stranger’s side. A wound. The gash looked like little more than a scratch, really, but the darkness already staining the flesh told a story that most Wardens knew the end of far too well. Taint.As Alistair finished cleaning and sheathing his own blade, he looked to Duncan. His mentor was frowning at the wound from where he stood. When he noticed Alistair staring, he tipped his head in a small gesture to move farther away with him so that they could speak privately. Alistair made his way over to where Duncan had nodded and when he was close enough he asked, “What do we do?”“We could offer to end it quickly,” Duncan said before brushing his knuckles over his beard in thought. “Or…”“Or?” Alistair echoed.“I had hoped to find more recruits among the dwarves or perhaps the Dalish. It’s a pity that we are running low on time.” Duncan paused and they watched as the man slowly sank down to sit in the mud at the base of the tree, looking miserable. “However, this traveler has shown considerable spirit. Assuming they survive the trip to Ostagar, perhaps this is an option.”Alistair didn’t want to be someone who judged others on things like, say, appearance, but as he glanced at the man again he couldn’t help but raise a brow. Warrior this was not. Their skill with a blade was about as equal to a rabbit trying to use a carrot to stab a hawk. That is to say it was more startling than effective. Some of his thoughts must have carried over to his face because Duncan tsk’d. “Surely you remember a day before you knew how to handle a sword. While they may not be ready for this coming battle-- should they survive till the joining and after, I’m sure we can manage their training.”“Are we going to let them choose?”“Yes. Assuming they live long enough to make such a choice. I think I’d first like to know why their hair is green though.”Green? Alistair looked back at where the traveler was sitting. Where their head had tipped back into one of the few lone shafts of sunlight he could, in fact, see that their hair was a dark green-blue tint. In the shadow of the forest and the heat of the battle he’d failed to notice. Duncan unhooked his spare waterskin as he walked and offered it down to the man. “Here. To wash your mouth.”“Thanks.” As the man took it Alistair also now noticed a long spiraling tattoo of roses that spanned the length of the man’s arm all the way up into his foreign looking shirt.Leaning on the tree, one hand idly languishing on his dagger, Duncan asked, “I’ve not been to Orlais in some time. Is that a new trend?”The man leaned over and spat a mouthful of dirty water into the mud beside him before taking another final swig and asking, “ ‘s what?”“The hair. Last I remember it was fashionable to dye the hair dark. I was wondering if it changed.”“...hair?” The traveler reached a hand up and tugged the tie holding their hair up. Released, it was longer than Alistair thought it would be and they brought the tip of the brightly coiled braid down to where they could see it. “Huh. It is dyed.”“Are you from Antiva then? Tevinter?”“I--” They paused before looking back up at Duncan, “I don’t know? I can’t seem to remember.”Duncan glanced back at Alistair, his gaze unreadable. “I see. What do you remember?”“Just waking up there, I think. ...No. Wait-- Falling? I think I remember falling. Or maybe I dreamt I was falling…”At that, both Duncan and Alistair looked up at the trees, scanning for broken branches. Nearby, one of the trees looked like it could have been the victim of a climbing accident and Alistair gestured to it. Since Duncan was definitely the better climber of the two, his mentor handed over his spare sword before lithely climbing into the nearby tree to look. When he came back down, he looked troubled and gestured for Alistair to speak with him once more away from the man.
“The branches appear broken at the top,” Duncan said as he accepted his sword back.“Like he was climbing and fell from there? Perhaps trying to hide from the darkspawn there?”Duncan, however, shook his head. “With how the branches break I would guess he fell from higher. Yet there are no cliffs or taller trees nearby for them to have fallen from. Our new friend is something of a mystery.”“Does that still mean we want to… you know?” Alistair asked with a wobbly grimace.“Though I have many more questions, I am certainly still considering ‘you know ’,” he said with a good natured chuckle that faded off as he looked towards the stranger, “and when the time is right, I will ask it. Assuming, of course, that they live past the hour.” That was the question, wasn’t it? Alistair agreed silently with a frown.
Most people unlucky enough to suffer the taint died quickly. Perhaps that was the lucky route though as others lived a matter of agonizing hours-- sometimes even days-- before finally succumbing. Wardens… well, they lived longest but in the end, the taint and the calling would get them too. It was not a gentle or kind foe that they faced and sometimes it was not death that it granted but a fate much worse.“Are you well enough to walk?” Duncan asked, breaking Alistair from his thoughts as his mentor knelt beside the stranger.“I think so,” the stranger answered, leveraging themself up with only a small wince as they curled a hand over their side. “Do you think they’ll come back?”“It is possible. More-so after Alistair and I--” Duncan paused only long enough to gesture back towards Alistair who waived meekly-- “leave. I’m afraid we cannot linger here. You are welcome to come with us if you wish.”The man’s smile was strained despite the pain noticeably curling the edges of his lips. He did not complain, however, as many would and instead fell into step beside Duncan. “Sure. I don’t-- ah, I don’t really remember where I was going so that’s fine. Are you going somewhere in particular?”“We are headed to Ostagar where the King has summoned us.”“Oh…” the stranger rocked back on their heel, eyeing Alistair’s shield before they resumed walking and asked, “are you knights then?”Alistair tucked his hands behind his head, stretching out his chest as he held back a laugh. With a raised brow, he loosed a hand to make a sweeping gesture at his distinctive armor. “I take it you don’t recognize the Grey Warden uniform?”“No.” They said, shaking their head. Their expression shifted as they seemed to realize something, “Uhm... should I? Sorry. It does sound familiar but I can’t remember why. If you aren’t knights then... priests?”Duncan chuckled from up ahead as he slowed to take the man’s other side, answering in Alistair’s sted. “No, lad, we’re an order that fights darkspawn and protects the land from the blight.”“The blight?”Alistair shared another glance with Duncan from over the stranger’s head. Either this stranger was sheltered, stupid, or had really hit his head hard. Of course, the more Alistair thought on it he could not blame most people if they didn’t know much about blights and darkspawn. The last blight had been back in the Exalted age over four hundred years ago and the validity of this being a true blight was still being argued. In fact, there were only a handful of wardens in Ferelden and very few people trying to join-- if this was a real blight then they were all in for a mess of trouble if they couldn’t get more recruits.Duncan stroked his beard, looking thoughtful before he explained in a deceptively patient tone, “It is believed by some that a blight occurs when darkspawn find and corrupt one of the old false gods down within the earth. The Archdemon then leads the horde to the surface where they kill all that they come across.”The stranger nudged something aside with their foot and Alistair realized that they were walking barefoot. Like the wild Dalish they appeared to have no trouble walking with nothing to protect their feet. Alistair had never seen a human with no obvious elven traits do that though.
The man seemed lost in contemplation, his round face rather serious before he asked, “Where do the darkspawn come from? What are they?”Duncan gave Alistair a raised brow and Alistair huffed before repeating a shortened version that the chantry sisters used to tell, “As the Chantry tells it, the seven Tevinter magisters forced their way into the Golden City. There though they found the Maker himself. The City turned black and the magisters were cast out as the first darkspawn as punishment-- that caused the first blight. They spread the taint and turn others into darkspawn.”“Wait, so this darkspawn taint turns people into darkspawn?”Alistar idly wondered if he had sounded this ignorant before becoming a Grey Warden. Admittedly he did know more about the wardens than most thanks to Eamon and his schooling. The legends of the wardens were still at least a little popular even out with the farmers and the like… right?“Sometimes,” Duncan answered with a slow and somber nod. “Usually, it just causes one to die as if they had touched a poison.”The stranger’s eyes drifted down to their own wound at their side and Alistair could almost see the moment they started fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. “How does-- what-- how does someone…”“How is someone poisoned by the taint?” Duncan asked, his eyes crinkling with his pity even as he smiled grimly. “Darkspawn blood only needs to touch you for you to be at risk. Often the darkspawn will cover their blades with it as well so that even a small cut would prove fatal. In rarer cases they have also been known to purposefully feed their blood to the unconscious to encourage the change--”Paling further, the stranger turned and hobbled for the bushes. His retching was muted by the forest as Alistair took deep even breaths and told his stomach not to be so maker-damned empathetic.
With his eyes scanning the surrounding forest as well, Duncan crossed his arms as he mused quietly. “He possesses a curious mind-- something that most don't. He asks questions without fear and during the attack he was not afraid to pick up a blade to fight back. Out of the other candidates that I have sent to Ostagar I admit that I have the most hope for this one. He would make a fine warden.”“If he lives,” Alistair tacked on.Duncan nodded amiably. “If he lives.”“Speaking of Ostagar…”Duncan closed his eyes, the harder than normal breath out was the only indication that he was unhappy about the subject being brought up. “Please attempt to keep your distance from King Cailan for now. If it becomes a problem… we’ll manage that if and when it comes time.”“Understood. I just would rather avoid a repeat of last time.”“Yes, well you’d do well to remember not to antagonize those close to the crown.”Alistair shifted the strap that bore the weight of his shield and small traveling pack as he scowled to himself. It wasn’t his fault. He had no interest in ruling no matter what his half-brother thought and his joining the other Wardens at Ostagar was because there were darkspawn there and not because Alistair wanted to one-up his half-brother in glory. Wardens were supposed to cast aside their pasts when they became wardens--and he had-- so he honestly couldn’t get farther from the crown than if he picked it up and threw it into the Free Marches.Across the path from him, he watched as the stranger wiped a sleeve across their lips before leaning rather bodily against a nearby tree. Seeing them… well he was able to put aside his own personal grievances as he felt a twinge of pity. He’d at least had a choice to become a warden. Well... kind of. The choice was to continue his templar training or to be a warden. Yet as little a choice as it was, it was still a choice-- the first he’d ever made in his life for himself-- and though he didn’t regret it for himself, he pitied this stranger. Their choice was death or warden. …Not that becoming a warden guaranteed life…Duncan offered out his water once more to the man. “Can you continue?”“...yeah. I’ve, uh, got it, huh? The taint.”“Yes.”“Is there a cure?”“No. Not really. Though becoming a warden can slow it down.” Duncan said, his voice gentle. Calming. Like trying to croon a spooked horse into settling down.The stranger turned, strands of his dark green hair sliding against his face and twisting in the breeze as he looked up to Duncan. “So you have it too?”“Yes. All Wardens do.” And all Wardens weren’t supposed to talk about it so candidly , Alistair thought, looking away. Duncan had never really been like ‘all wardens’ though. In Alistair’s opinion, Duncan was the best. He was pretty sure that when Duncan’s calling came that he’d go with him into the Deep Roads. Had to. He couldn’t imagine life without his mentor.The stranger’s gaze was distant as they seemed to contemplate their encroaching fate. Duncan placed a hand on their shoulder, returning them to the moment as he asked, “Do you remember your name?”“No,” they said with a shake of their head. When they glanced up at Duncan their smile was notably bitter as they said, “I wish I did. I feel so rude not introducing myself and I feel as if I know so much and yet seem to have forgotten it all.”“Then for the time being do you have something you’d like us to call you?” Or something you want inscribed when we bury you? Alistair thought silently, knowing that’s what Duncan already must be thinking. That or Duncan wished to include the stranger on the list like someone who had undergone the joining and died like so many of the others. Alistair thought that sounded fair, at least. Recording their name might not be of much use but it was something and they did have the taint.The stranger rubbed the back of their neck before shaking their head. “Nothing comes to mind, sorry.”“It’s fine. Do you feel well enough to continue?”“Yeah... uh, Duncan?”“Yes?”“What makes you a Warden? I mean… how do you become one? Do you just live through being sick or… is there more?” Their already gentle voice grew softer with each question until they finally asked, “Is there any hope for me?”“I will not lie and give you a platitude-- however, there is hope,” Duncan answered.Alistair fell behind as Duncan and the newcomer continued to speak quietly with each other. He focused on keeping his gaze roving over the forest where he could feel the prickling whispers of nearby darkspawn. There weren’t many here. Nor were they close just yet. He could still feel them though. He knew that Duncan could too-- could probably even pinpoint them-- but he shouldn’t always depend on his mentor. It was good practice to stay alert.As they walked and the hours wore on, Duncan picked the occasional plant. His deft hands tucked them away into the pouch on his belt until the thin canvas looked full enough to burst and barely closed. Alistair was not the only one to notice this and breaking from the conversation they’d been having about baking-- something that was making Alistair hungry the more he listened in-- the stranger peered at the pouch as he asked, “Mister Duncan, may I ask why you picked those?”“Just Duncan is fine, lad. It is for a potion to slow the effect of the taint. Once we reach the river, assuming you still live, I will make it.”That was… a lot more blunt that Duncan usually was. It seemed to not bother the stranger though as they simply gave a sage nod. “Alright.”“Speaking of, how are you feeling?”“Tired,” they answered back, giving Duncan a wobbly smile. “And my side hurts but the pain’s starting to fade.”“We’ll bandage the wound tonight.”“Alright. Was this one of the plants you picked? With the white flower?” They asked, tugging a bloom as they walked by and holding it out to Duncan. “Are they of any use by themselves? Or does it have to be mixed a certain way to be effective?”“It is one of the ones I picked. By themselves they can be used to slow infection when boiled properly. However if the leaves have begun to reddin at the base of the plant then it would be dangerous to use as the oil that begins to coat the leaves can paralyze any fool unfortunate enough to consume it.”As Duncan and the Newcomer began talking about plants and their uses in earnest, there was a twist of ugly jealousy that reared its head in Alistair’s chest. It had taken him years to form the relationship he had with his mentor. How had this-- this ignorant stranger simply grown to such a comfortable level of familiarity so quickly? Surely it wasn’t Duncan’s pity-- for they’d seen plenty of people suffer the taint in the past. Well, Alistair hadn’t. Not really. Yet he was sure that Duncan had. So what was it? Was it the questions? Alistair asked plenty of questions. Usually, they were questions like ‘what’s for dinner’ and ‘can we make camp’ but they were still questions!“Alistair--”He jerked from his thoughts when his name was called only to see Duncan walking away and the stranger standing quietly looking at him. Their forced smile looked strained and weary. There was sweat on their brow. Dark lines had already begun to form under their skin along their veins and all that ugly jealousy started to melt away as they said, “Sorry, was I being too quiet?”“I… no?” Alistair said, watching Duncan disappear into the trees.“I don’t know how much wood I can handle but I can hold some while you gather.”Gather? Oh! Alistair looked around, realizing that they were nearing the stream and thus the area they often camped at before the last leg to Ostagar. The same camp that he and Duncan were supposed to meet with another Warden at tonight. He cast another glance at the stranger, taking in the way they looked ready to collapse as he said, “No. It’s fine. You can wait at the camp if you want.”Ignoring him, they began picking up small sticks and tucking them under their arm as they said, “No. That’s fine. I’d like to help.”“Though you said you were tired?”The stranger paused, their eyes glancing at him and then quickly away before they said, “I-- well, perhaps this is going to sound stupid but I’m afraid. If I sit down… what if that’s the last of it and I don’t get back up? I keep thinking that if I keep going-- if I keep walking-- that it won't catch up with me. Like I’m just trying to outwalk a dog on a chain or something and not… something in my blood.” They straightened and gave him a bright smile despite clearly being unwell. They gave a soft laugh, their eyes squinting almost closed as they asked, “Silly right?” No. It wasn’t silly. Alistair hadn’t expected that sort of bald honesty in an answer. Perhaps that was why Duncan seemed to have taken a shine to the stranger ? He looked away from their smile as he couldn’t help but feel as if he actually liked the stranger as well. He didn’t want to like them thought. They had more of a chance of dying than actually living.
Instead of answering them, Alistair simply unhooked his hatchet from his travel pouch and began going for some of the lower branches of the trees along the path. He tucked the sticks into the space between his shield strap and his back as they meandered towards the campsite. The only sound was that of his hatchet until a clattering drew his attention from behind.The stranger was kneeling, struggling to pick up their armload of wood. At some point that paleness had increased enough that their skin was like parchment that had been left in the sun too long. Alistair felt another pang of conflicting emotions as he stared. He didn’t want to get attached to them-- it was too likely that they would die, if not now then in the Joining-- but he couldn’t help it.
Kneeling beside them he asked, “The camp isn’t too far from here. Think you can make it?”They didn’t answer right away. They blinked rapidly, their breathing strained, before they said, “I can make it. Sorry. Just… dizzy.”Alistar gently pried the sticks from the stranger’s hands, tucking them in with his own much thicker bundle before he offered them his arm. “Here, lean on me while we walk.”“Thanks.” They said, their voice soft. As they began walking they said, “...Uhm, Alistair?”“Hn?”“I’d really like to not become a darkspawn. I don’t want to die but… if I change could you make sure I die quickly? I don’t-- I don’t want to hurt people.”He didn’t want them to die either. Didn’t want anyone to die, really. As wardens they were supposed to protect people. They were supposed to stop people from having to suffer like this. He couldn’t do more than grunt his response as he felt the weight of what the stranger had just asked of him-- a weight that he’d never expected to be asked despite knowing how it came with the territory.The sun was setting and Alistair had gotten the fire started and the tent he and Duncan shared set up by the time that Duncan returned. With him was one of the other wardens, Edure, and one of the other recruits that he’d only just met in passing. They greeted him with a wave as they approached and he already knew that Duncan’s eyes searched for the stranger as soon as he was close.
“He’s in the tent. He’s… not doing well,” Alistair said, hooking a thumb towards where the fabric was hung neatly between two trees.“How far has it progressed?”Alistair was not as familiar with the signs of taint sickness as the others. Everything he knew was from the texts that Duncan passed to him on occasion to study but he gave his best guess, “I think its nearing the final stages.”Duncan nodded, disappearing into the tent. Edure nodded at him as he passed some fresh fish off to the recruit with him. “Ho Alistair. Hear you ran into some excitement on the road.”“A little.”Edure chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as his white smile shone brightly against his dark skin. “Help me set up my tent? Daveth should have the fish ready to cook soon.”“Only if you give my knife back,” the recruit, Daveth, grumbled from just beyond the light of the fire.Pulling the knife from his boot, Edure tossed it towards the recruit as he said, “This time maybe don’t throw it and I wouldn’t have to keep it.”Their bickering was friendly as it went back and forth and Alistair ended up doing most of the setting up for the tent. It was fairly late and a merchant dwarf had joined them at the camp-- selling them some cheese and mead-- when Duncan finally emerged from treating the stranger. He looked tired and for a moment Alistair worried that the stranger hadn’t made it.
The question must have been in his eyes because Duncan spoke softly as he sat nearby and accepted his dinner. “They live. Their will to cling to life is surprisingly strong. There is still hope for them yet.”“I hope so,” Alistair said, surprising himself. To hide both his surprise and sentimentality, he shoved the rest of his cheese into his mouth in one go and then proceeded to realize that he couldn’t chew. Or breathe. He coughed, spraying cheese into the fire along with his regret.For the first time in weeks, Duncan genuinely laughed. Alistair, though regretting the loss of his cheese, was glad to hear the mirth. Since the increase in darkspawn and the archdemon dreams had begun there was little cheer in the warden ranks. Alistair longed for things to go back to the way they were-- just him and Duncan traveling, training, recruiting, investigating possible darkspawn sightings. …Most of it was just camping and travel. He wished such days could return and never end.

Daveth stretched, arching his arms up to the sky and enjoying the way his back popped so obligingly in response. Beside him sat what might have been a dwarf-- though they were more fat than stocky-- who was munching slowly from their pouch of dried fruits and grains.“So Duncan recruited you?” He asked, rolling his shoulders next and earning more satisfying pops.“Guess so.”“Guess so?”They tilted their head, green hair catching the light as it slipped away from their sweaty brow and revealing dark lines that were just barely visible beneath their deathly pale skin. “Mhm. I, uhm, got the taint. From darkspawn. Duncan said he could end it quick or I could try and become a warden. So… I guess I’m recruited now.”Daveth was… unaware that the wardens could do that. Of course, there were rumors that the wardens knew how to cure the taint but it seemed selfish to require someone to join for that. Then again he supposed being a warden was better than dying. That was why he was there after all.
“Want this?” they said, offering him the rest of the pouch.Daveth snagged it-- never one to turn down food-- as he said, “I’m Daveth. You?”“I… uhm…”Nudging their shoulder with his, Daveth shoved a handful of the grain mix in his mouth as he said, “Com’on, recruits should stick together. At least tell me what I should call out while we’re fighting if I need you to watch my back.”They tucked their hands between their legs, hunching and clearly struggling not to shiver as they answered, “I don’t know my name.”“...you’re joking right?”“No. I hit my head,” they said, glancing up and Daveth noticed the bruise and dirty gash just above their wide hazel eyes. They flashed him a weary smile as they said, “Sorry. But, uhm, I’ll watch your back anyhow?”They reminded him of one of the other orphans. He wasn’t sure how someone managed to look so Maker-damned innocent with that much facial scruff but the stranger managed. He looked over them critically and noticed a swath of blood on their side. Daveth leaned over, looking at the very nasty looking wound as he asked, “You get that yesterday?”“Yeah. I, uhm, I was supposed to clean it in the river last night but I guess I passed out.”That wouldn’t do. You don’t live long on the streets if you don’t learn how to take care of wounds. Infections and sickness from dirty hands tended to kill just as often as starvation and freezing to death. Maybe it was a habit built from taking care of the others or maybe he just felt sorry for the guy but Daveth shoved the last of the breakfast grain into his mouth as he stood. “Com’on,” he mumbled around the food, “we should get that washed.”Duncan’s voice sounded from over his shoulder-- nearly giving him a heart attack as he choked on his extra breakfast, “Indeed. I am sorry we neglected to clean it last night. And greetings Daveth. I’m pleased to see you again.”Bowing low, Daveth faced Duncan. “Same.” Lame, he chastised himself, why couldn’t you say something better than that? Duncan didn’t seem to mind though as he came up to the no-name recruit. “Are you feeling better?”“A little. Thanks.”“The potion's effects will not last for too much longer I’m afraid. You’ll take another just before we break camp but we will need to hurry to get to Ostagar and prepare for the Joining. We have enough time though so it may be smart to wash and properly bandage those wounds. Before you go to the river with master Daveth here, you should speak to Bodahn. He may have some clothes that will fit you.”A flush crawled over Daveth’s skin as he followed his tiny new friend over to the dwarf merchant. He didn't deserve the nice titles and politeness that Duncan always afforded him. Yet Duncan didn’t treat him-- or anyone-- like they were less than equal. Perhaps as grey wardens they really all were equal but that didn’t lower his gratefulness to Duncan, in fact, he was pretty sure it only meant that he owed him more.Bodahn greeted them with a smile from where he was packing up his caravan. “And you must be the fine lad in need of some clean clothes.”“Yessir,” they answered, giving a small bow.“Tch. None of that-- let’s have a look-it ya. Hmm, hmm, hmm. This simply won't do, will it m’boy?” The dwarf merchant, Bodahn, poked at the torn sections of their clothes and some of the bloody spots before he pulled over one of the baskets and began to dig through it. His voice was jovial and a little muffled as he continued, “Master Duncan was rather generous with his payment so I don’t see any harm as you’re about the same size as my Sandal here-- Sandal, say hello to the nice folks. They’re going to be riding with us and making sure we don’t run into any darkspawn.”Up in the cart, Sandal gave an owlish blink before he spoke, “Hello. ...Enchantment?”Bodahn waved a dismissive hand from his position in the basket. “Fraid we don’t have time to do any enchantments right now m’boy but,” he popped up, holding clothes out to the recruit as he leaned towards Daveth with a bright smile as he continued, “if you folks ever change your mind-- I’ve got plenty of goods and Sandal here can enchant nearly anything.”“Ah, I’m just a recruit. Sir.” Daveth said, trying not to think about how he could already see a few things in the cart he’d have loved to knick if he was, you know, still a street-rat.“No matter. If you change your mind--” Bodahn paused in his sales pitch, his eyes roaming over the other recruit who hadn’t moved, “something wrong? I’m sure they’ll fit you m’boy. I’ve an eye for sizing after picking up clothing for Sandal. Mind you, the pants may fit a bit odd since you’ve more leg and I had to shorten his...”Even past the paleness of the taint, Daveth could see a blush began to creep over their nose and down their neck. “Uhm. I was just wondering, uhm… if you have…”Their voice faded to a soft squeak and Daveth wondered if they were about to be sick. Bodahn didn’t seem to have that worry as he leaned in and said, “Sorry, lad, not sure I caught that.”They mumbled again-- this time their high pitched whisper was definitely out of the range of hearing.“Uh…” Bodahn looked to Daveth, “sorry?”Daveth shook his head, his own confused grin in place. “Don’t worry master dwarf, I’m sure he’ll get it out in time. Since we’re low on time-- Tiny, you and me, let’s head for the river, yeah?”The recruit looked at him from behind the curtain of hair. “Tiny? ...you mean me?”Waving to Bodahn, Daveth snaked his free arm over the recruit’s shoulder and steered them towards the river as he explained. “Well, you got no name. Figure I can’t keep calling you recruit, right? Least you object? I could call you Green instead?”“Oh… no. Not objections. Tiny is fine.”At the river Edure was already there, in the section they’d dug the previous day for bathing. The massive and muscular dark-skinned man cracked open an eye as they walked through the last of the brush to the water’s edge.“Mornin recruit. Daveth. Nice to see you up.”“Uhm. g-g-g... uhm, morning…” Tiny said, his voice little more than a soft whisper.Edure heaved himself out of the water with a groan before offering his hand out. “You were asleep last night when Daveth and I got in. I’m Commander Edure. You’ll be in my charge for training after the Joining.”Tiny, his face hidden behind the wad of clean clothes that Bodahn had given him, blindly stuck out his hand as his muffled voice called out. “It’s a pleasure.”Nudging his arm over, Daveth got Tiny’s hand to connect enough that they could shake. Afterward, once Edure was dressed and gone, Daveth finally got Tiny to emerge from the clothing bundle.“Not good around new folks?” Daveth asked, stripping out of his own clothes as he tossed a new heating ruin from his pack into the little bathing area.Tiny-- who still hadn’t moved to undress-- shook his head. “...sorry.”“Naw. It’s good. You need any help?”They shook their head again, not looking up. Realizing that the issue was more than perhaps simple shyness, Daveth leaned against the edge of the bathing pool. “You okay?”“I just... “ Tiny paused, sucking a breath, “I-I don’t want you to laugh.” Laugh? At? Daveth didn’t say what he was thinking though as he tugged his earlobe in the familiar swear gesture. “On my lobes, I promise not to laugh or make fun of you in any way.”When Tiny undressed, Daveth learned why he’d been so embarrassed. Tiny had tits. Not tiny tits either and his lower anatomy was… well… more like his name. If Daveth had seen this before naming the kid he might have chosen another name so they didn’t think he was making fun of them. As it was, Tiny kept his arms crossed over his chest as he stepped carefully into the water-- eyes averted-- and huddled at the far side of the bath pit.
Growing up on the streets Daveth had met his fair share of other kids who didn’t fit in with the world or the maker’s so-called plans. Tiny wasn’t the first guy like this and he wouldn’t be the last so for the most part, Daveth didn’t care. What he did care about though was making sure those wounds got clean. He pulled the wax-wrapped soap from his bag and lathered it onto a rag as he said, “How deep is the wound?”It seemed that Tiny didn’t understand until the confusion on their face cleared and they raised their arm to look at their side. “Uhm, it doesn’t look too deep… I think.”Daveth offered out the rag, “Here. It’s elfroot soap. Specific for cleaning wounds. Let me know if you need help with it.”Silence settled between them as Tiny took the rag and began slowly trying to clean the black stained skin of the wound. Daveth had never seen a tainted wound before so he had no clue if that was ‘normal’ for one but it… well, it didn’t look healthy. The purple-black stain spiderwebbed out from the mark over most of Tiny’s side and eventually, Daveth asked, “Does it hurt?”Tiny shook his head. “Uh-uh. … it did at first. Kinda numb now. It hurts a little to touch but not like I keep thinking it will. Like, hm, it hurts deep but I don’t feel the skin any more?”“Hm. …hey, earlier, were you trying to ask Bodahn for a chest wrap?”“...yeah…”Tiny’s voice was soft enough that Daveth barely heard it over the river. He gave his hair a final rinse before lugging himself out of the bath as he said, “I can go ask him for one if you want. That cut probably went right through your old one, right?”“...you would do that?”“Yeah,” Daveth said with a nonchalant shrug as he tied the string of his underwear. “Said I’d watch your back right? It’s what friends do. Just no passing out and drowning while I’m gone.”He wasn’t gone long. Mainly because he was a little afraid that Tiny very well might just do that whole passing out and drowning thing even if he’d told them not to. On his way back he passed a red-faced Alistair and arrived to see a half clothed Tiny kneeling with his arm over his head as Duncan carefully applied a salve and bandage to his side.“We’ll wrap it over your shoulder and use the chest wrap to keep it in place,” Duncan said softly.“Alright. Do I need one for my head?”“No. It already looks like it’s healing fine. ...recruits are usually paired with a partner-- even after joining-- I’ve noticed that you and Daveth are getting along…”Daveth paused, edging into the shadows of the treeline as he listened to Tiny’s reply.“Could we be partnered? Assuming he doesn’t mind? Or… are we not allowed to choose?”Duncan leaned away, checking that the bandages were sitting correctly. “Though the other Warden-Commanders may do things differently I prefer that recruits are partnered with someone they both trust and enjoy spending time with.”“Is that why you travel with Alistair?”Duncan’s chuckle was warm as he rolled back onto his feet and stood, offering a hand down to Tiny. “Yes. I trust Alistair. He is a fine warden much like my last partner. Though… Wardens do not always travel in pairs once their training is complete. If you live, you may find yourself often alone.”“How long does it take before a warden’s training is considered complete? Have you been a warden long?”The questions were innocuous enough and far away from the topic of ‘Daveth’ that Daveth felt safe coming out of the brush and he made a great deal of purposeful noise as he did so. He’d already been told that he’d be paired up with another recruit but he liked that it may be up to him-- and his partner-- to be able to decide. He’d had a chance to meet most of the other recruits and so far he’d only been annoyed by most of them. Tiny with his thick and drawling accent was the first person who also didn’t seem to care or notice Daveth’s obvious Denerim gutter-trash manners. Well, the first person besides Duncan that is-- and though he knew his encounters with Duncan were going to be limited, he looked forward to proving to the warden that he was worth having been saved.Walking over to them, Daveth offered out the chest-band that Bodahn had given him. “Morning Sir Duncan. I had him wash it with elfroot soap. Is there anything else we need to do for a tainted wound?”“No. I’m afraid once the taint takes hold there is little we can do until the Joining tonight. Though a warden is immune to the taint, they should clean the wound thoroughly-- just as you have-- to prevent infection. If it is deep then you may need to pack the wound with healing poultices, or if possible, stitch it closed and blind the wound with either a healing spell or elfroot mixture.”Daveth nodded. “So nothing special? No secret warden recipe?”“No. I’m afraid not. Though… much of the healing techniques used in the third and fourth blight were lost with the gryphons and their riders. There may yet be a technique or trick lost to time.”Tiny tugged his shirt down and belted it all down now that his chest wrap was in place. Together they all headed for the camp as Tiny tucked the last of his shirt into his trousers as he asked, “Gryphons? People used to ride Gryphons?”That earned another chuckle as Duncan said, “I do not know how but I forgot that you do not remember these things. Once we are in the cart, would you like me to recount the tales of the old wardens?”“Wait, wardens were the ones who rode the gryphons? That’s why our insignia is a gryphon right?” Tiny asked, turning with a look of bright excitement. “Can we ride gryphons?!”“They’re extinct,” Alistair said, passing them as he headed for the bathing area.Duncan frowned after the other warden before he said, “What Alistair says is true. We do not know the cause of it but the Gryphons began to suffer from the blight much like their warden riders do and became infertile. Their eggs no longer would hatch and eventually, they all died out after the last blight four hundred years ago.”“Four hundred? Oh…” Tiny frowned, their brow netting together as they rubbed at the back of their neck. “You talk about blights as if they’re common so I just… Hm. Does that mean none of the wardens today have seen a blight before this?”Edure answered Tiny’s question from nearby as he hefted a large battle-ax over his shoulder. “Nope. Most of us just studied the old texts and killed the few darkspawn that wandered to the surface. A few wardens even venture down into the deep roads to thin their numbers, help the dwarves, or map the passages. In Peace, Vigilance.”Duncan nodded, “In war, Victory.”“In Death, Sacrifice.” The two older wardens said in unison.Chuckling, Edure clasped Duncan’s shoulder fondly, “I will see you at the Joining tonight.”“Are you going to check the southern woods?”“Yes. Bodahn said he passed through there and some of the nearby farmers had still been packing. The main section of the horde may be near Ostagar but there are bound to be stragglers. I will try to make sure those foolish enough to leave late will live to learn from the mistake.”“There were already roving parties out yesterday. I would not be surprised if there were more,” Duncan said with a nod. “I wish you a swift victory and look forward to fighting beside you in the coming battle.”Edure waved goodbye and nodded to Daveth before turning and disappearing into the forest. They set about collapsing most of the camp and Tiny was helping Daveth kick dirt over the last of the coals when he paused and asked, “Daveth? Have you gone through the Joining? Do you know what we have to do?”Daveth shook his head, picking up the neatly wrapped tents and tossing them onto the back of Bodahn’s cart. “Not yet. They were waiting for Duncan to return before they did the ceremony. Most things the wardens do are a big secret though. Admittedly... I heard we might need to patrol the woods.”“Oh…” Tiny climbed into the back of the cart, settling cross-legged against one of the baskets there.“Why? Afraid?”“A little. ...Seems silly, right? I’m just worried I’ll do something wrong-- oh, that reminds me. Duncan said we could choose our recruit partners. Would you like to be mine? I mean, if you don’t have someone-- or if you don’t mind-- if you do it’s okay--”Daveth cut Tiny off as he flopped down beside them, his bow over his lap and his arm over their shoulders. “Course I will. How else would I watch your back?”The confidence they’d had with asking him seemed to slowly vanish and Tiny quietly asked, “...are you sure you want me though? I’m not very good at fighting.”“He really isn’t,” Alistair agreed, coming up to drop off his own small pack. His blond hair was dark brown from the water and it looked like he’d shaved-- something Daveth had meant to do-- and Alistair hopped up to sit nearby as he continued, “but Duncan thinks he’s got potential.”“You can always learn how to fight,” Daveth said, shrugging. He didn’t care for Alistair’s tone. Even though Alistair hadn’t been a warden for very long he still seemed to act aloof and like he was better than the mere recruits. Actually, most of the ‘mere recruits’ acted like they were better than each other. It was with that thought that he said, “Finding someone to get along with isn’t as easy. I prefer to like who I’m working with.”“Don’t like Ser Jory I take it?” Alistair asked, referencing the other recruit that Duncan had with him back in Denerim.“Ser Jory likes himself enough that he doesn't need me. At all. Ever.”“True. Just… don’t get too attached.”Tiny ducked his head at that. It took a moment for Daveth to catch up with the fact that Alistair probably meant that Tiny was likely to die before even getting to the Joining that evening. The dark lines along his skin was evidence of that. How strange to think that even though Tiny seemed to be smiling and pretending as if he was fine, he may not live till that evening. Maker, how was he not scared shitless, Daveth wondered quietly to himself.With their conversation lulling, Daveth couldn't help but also overhear the whispered conversation between Bodahn and Duncan who stood over the last of the supplies.“Master Warden? My eyes aren’t as sharp as they once were but it looks as if the boy is suffering from the taint. Did you perhaps need anything? Not that it would do much good but I’ve got a few potions I’d be willing to sell at a discount.”“No. I’ve already given him a potion to hold off the effects. I appreciate your concern though master dwarf.”“Of course. In these troubling times its good to stick together. I may have left Orzammar but I’ve a few cousins who joined the legion. May not know what the lad’s going through but if anyone can help him I’m sure you wardens can. I’ve always meant to ask but is it true the wardens can heal someone with the taint if they agree to be conscripted?”“I’m afraid that’s not--” Duncan’s answer faded behind the clatter and rattle of tools as Sandal pulled out a kit of some sort to begin carving from where he sat at the head of the wagon. The conversation seemed to be over by the time things quieted down again and that silence lingered for most of the day.Thanks to Bodahn’s cart they reached Ostagar before noon. The sun beat down mercilessly even though it was late fall and Daveth could feel himself sweating under his leathers. They waved Bodahn off at the gates only to turn and be greeted by none other than King Cailan. Alistair, in a curiously unusual fit of what might have been shyness, edged back to hide behind Daveth as the King-- blond hair dancing in the gentle breeze-- clasped hands with Duncan.“Ho there, Duncan. I was wondering when you might arrive.”Duncan tipped his head in a mixture of nod and bow. “We ran into a spot of trouble along the road. I trust my letter reached you then?”“Indeed it did! These are your last recruits then? The others have all arrived just as you said they would. We’ve set aside a clear area for your camp near the forest just as you requested.”“I appreciate that, your majesty. If you wish, allow me to introduce--”“There’s no need to be so formal, Duncan.” Cailan interrupted while stepping up to Tiny. “Ho there, friend. Might I know your name?”As if he was greeting a friend and not royalty, Tiny simply stuck out his hand as he replied, “Hi. Uhm, they--” he gestured towards Daveth and then loosely towards Duncan with his other hand, revealing the somewhat fresh patch of blood on his ribs that must have gone through the bandages-- “call me Tiny.”Cailan laughed, long blond hair flicking shiny strands out of the loose plait as the wind picked up in a gust and he clasped Tiny’s arm much like Duncan’s. “Yet I get the feeling that is not your name.”
“I hit my head,” Tiny said once Cailan released him. “I don’t actually remember my name. Tiny works for me.”“Well then, Tiny, I’m pleased to meet you.”“You as well, sir.”Daveth felt like his eyes might pop out of his skull at Tiny’s treating the king like like an equal. There were no honorifics and he’d simply clasped hands with royalty as if it was nothing! Then, to his ever growing surprise, the king turned towards Daveth and offered out his hand in greeting to him as well.“And you, good sir?”He was finding himself mildly tongue-tied as he grasped the king’s arm-- THE KING’S ARM-- like he wasn’t a street-rat from Denerim. “I’m-- uh-- I’m Daveth. Your majesty. Sir.”“It is a pleasure meeting you both. I envy you. I, for one, am glad to help the wardens in the coming battle tonight. It's a pity I cannot join the warden ranks myself but royal duties and all.”It seemed as if Cailan may have gushed longer about the wardens-- his eyes shining much like a little boy who had just gotten his first war-horse-- but Duncan stepped in with practiced ease. “I’m sorry to cut this short, your Majesty, but Tiny was wounded on the road and we were hoping to see a healer before the ceremony.”“We were?” Tiny’s voice asked, his question thankfully lost beneath another gust of wind.“If I may, Duncan,” Cailan said with a raise of his hand, “Perhaps you can return and speak with me.”Duncan twisted ever so slightly to look past Daveth at Alistair and give him a nod towards the camp before he said, “Of course, your Majesty. Tiny, why don’t you go with Daveth and Alistair to the healers while I speak with the king. I will join you before long.”Obediently, they set off across the massive bridge while Duncan and Cailan wandered the edges of the battlements. Once across the bridge and away from the buffeting of the winds, Tiny asked, “so… am I supposed to visit the healers?”“You are bleeding,” Daveth pointed out in reply.Alistair nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck as he led the way through the city of tents. He spoke back towards them as they walked, “And Duncan had hoped that some of the mages might have a spell to get your memories to come back.”“Mages?”“The king has them here to help with healing. Part of why there are so many templars.”With his back turned, Alistair was unable to see the positively mistified expression on Tiny’s face so Daveth tried to explain, “Templars are defenders of the Chantry and keep the mages in check.”“I feel like I’m missing something. Why does a mage need to be in check?”“I--” Daveth paused, realizing they were near a mess of tents where wounded soldiers were resting and thus near their goal. “-- I’ll explain later. Remind me, alright?”After that, the afternoon went by in a blur. From healers unable to do anything but fade the bruise near Tiny’s eye, to meetings, to finally Alistair leading the new recruits out into the forest in search of the old accords that had been left there back when this area had a warden fortress. Somehow Tiny stayed on his feet for all of it.Tiny was a constant beside Daveth-- reliably watching his back as they fought their way through the early emerging darkspawn. Tiny even stepped forward when all the others were too afraid of the witch the group came across. Unphased by her, he politely bargained to get the accords from said witch.
Through it all they only lost one recruit and it wasn’t Tiny. Heck, the poor bastard that died wasn’t even killed by darkspawn though they certainly faced a fair amount of them in the forest. No, the recruit that they lost died to an old rusting bear trap combined with a scrappy looking feral wolf that had decided to take advantage of the man leaving his partner’s side. Though everyone heard his screams, the recruit was dead before anyone could even reach him to help.Cautiously walking back along the shadow dappled path, they were heading back to the encampment and the witch had recently left them when Daveth realized that Tiny also wasn’t with them anymore. He pulled himself up atop a nearby log to look around when Alistair seemed to have the same realization and called out, “Tiny?”“Over there,” Daveth said, spotting his partner.He was already hopping down and sprinting down the path when he heard Alistair speak to Ser Jory. “Guide the others the last of the way. We’ll catch up.”Ser Jory’s reply was lost to distance as Daveth sprinted the last of the way to skid to a stop at where Tiny was leaned against a rock.“Tiny? Are you alright?”Stupid question to ask. He knew it, yet the words spilled over anyhow as he knelt beside his new friend. Tiny didn’t seem to mind how stupid it was as he forced a smile and tried to wave him off. “Sorry Daveth. Uh. Just a little dizzy. I--I just need a moment. You guys can go ahead if you want and I’ll catch up.”Daveth plopped down onto a nearby log, pulling out his water as he yawned. “Nah. The others went on ahead. Gives us a chance for some peace and quiet without sire-boasts-a-lot regaling us with his awful tales of how he won the something or other. We’ll sit for a few minutes.” Until you feel better , he thought quietly to himself, or maybe until I’ve convinced Alistair to carry you back .
Nearby, Alistair leaned against a nearby tree, scanning the area with a weary expression. It was that same expression that he’d gotten the last few times they’d been attacked by darkspawn. Daveth didn’t particularly like Alistair but he trusted the man’s instincts or warden powers-- whatever it was that clued him into danger. Just to be on the safe side, Daveth laid his bow over his lap as he watched Tiny move to shakily sit beside him on the log.Tiny’s voice was soft from the combination of being tired and in pain. Though Tiny’s head hung low with his face hidden from sight, Daveth knew that there was a bluish tint over Tiny’s lips now. IT was clear for anyone to see Tiny wasn’t much longer for this world. Despite that, he still was being his usual self as he said, “Jory’s not that bad. I rather like the story of how he cut the drawstring to that one guy's pants even if it was by accident.”Daveth laughed, his grin wide. “True. It must have been a sight to see. Maybe I’ll have to see if I can re-enact it during morning warm ups.”
“I’d pay to see that if I had the money,” Tiny said with a weak laugh as he leaned against Daveth. Daveth could feel the fever and dampness through his shirt and he sent a prayer to both the Maker and Andraste-- Just a little bit longer. Just till the joining. He’ll be okay if he reaches the joining right? Eventually, Tiny pushed up unsteadily from the seat. It amazed Daveth that despite the feverish sweat that speckled Tiny’s brow his new friend still forced a smile. His voice was deceptively cheery as he said, “Okay. Thanks for letting me sit. I--” he paused before kneeling and looking at a flower that Daveth had stepped on. He picked it slowly before standing back up, his frown thoughtful. “Huh.”Alistair raised a brow and Daveth mimicked him before asking, “Something up?”“Oh… it just… this is gonna sound weird but I think I need to take this back to camp? Like, I can’t remember why it looks familiar but I think it’s important? Maybe I’ll ask Duncan about it. I think he might have told me about them yesterday but I can’t remember…”Daveth clasped a hand on Tiny’s shoulder, steering him onto the path and towards the encampment as he chuckled. “Sure, partner.”As they reached the camp, Tiny ended up having to sit once again. His back against the dog pens as he sat toying with his flower. Yet the flower wasn’t what held his attention. No, it was the dog in the pen to his left. It growled softly, its eyes glazed and likely dying from darkspawn taint as well.The handler limped up to them his eyes alight, “Bless me. Lad, would you be willin’ to give me a petal or two of that flower? This mabari is ill and that just may be the pushin’ point to gettin’ him healed up. Assumin’ that is I can get someone to muzzle em.”Daveth leaned on the edge of the pen, staring down at the dog as he asked, “muzzle? Aren’t you the handler?”The handler shrugged. “I keep the ones aint got no master no more but some of them don’t do well without their imprinted person. You could try and muzzle ‘em if ya wanted. I warn ya though, this lad has a nasty bite. I only just got back m’self from getting m’leg treated after he nipped me.”Putting up his hands and shaking his head, Daveth backed off the fence. “I’ll pass. Never been good with animals and I like my legs and arms the way they are.”Alistair looked at the dog and shrugged. “I’ll try.”“Brave one here,” the handler said, pulling a muzzle from where it was hung on the fence and handing it over. “Best of luck to ya but best step out quick if ‘e don’t back down. Not really one to explain why a warden lost an arm in one of my pens…”Unlocking the pen, Alistair stepped slowly inside. The dog… well, it seemed much larger once he stood up and let off a menacing growl, the fur on his back slowly standing on end and his teeth baring with no small amount of drool.
“Uh, easy there puppy,” Alistair crooned nervously as he took a step forward. “Easy.”
The dog snarled and snapped at the air. Jaws clapping shut with a deadly sound and Alistair took a step back. The dog didn’t advance at him but it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to get close. After a few minutes of staring, Alistair slunk back out of the pen. “Sorry. Seems he doesn’t care for Wardens.”"Or he doesn’t like you," Daveth teased while lounging against the fence and fighting off another yawn. He hadn’t really slept too well the night before-- partly because he’d gotten the middle watch shift-- but after all the walking and fighting they’d done today it was a wonder that any of them were still standing at all. Perhaps there was something to the warden endurance and stamina afterall and it wasn’t simply a sex joke. Maker he hoped so because if not he didn’t know how Alistar and the others kept up the way they did.“May I try?” Tiny asked, dusting off himself with aching slowness before holding his hand out for the muzzle.As Tiny slowly headed into the pen, Alistair asked, “You sure…?”Tiny simply smiled in response.
Tiny made his way, careful and slow, to slide down against the far side of the pen from the dog. He simply smiled, the action tired and worn, as he patted his lap and set down the muzzle beside himself. Through it all the dog had only given a low growl once and then fell into silent weary watching from its section of the pen afterwards. Minutes inched by and the shadows shifted until finally, the dog walked over and flopped like some stupid large housepet with its head in Tiny’s lap. Whatever Tiny was saying was lost to the camp buzz, his voice slow and gentle as he rubbed around the beast's ears and slowly slipped on the muzzle. When he was done, the calmed dog went to lay on its straw bedding as if it hadn’t previously been a terrifying monster beast to Alistair only minutes before.Daveth took a hesitant step into the pen, offering a hand to Tiny and helping him up as the handler chuckled from the pen’s edge. “Andraste bless me, boy, wasn’t sure I’d see the day. Assumin’ you and the pup live through the night, come see me in the morn and maybe we can see about getting you imprinted if’n you want. Never seen someone handle a mabari like that.”After taking one of the petals and tucking it into the little pouch in his belt, Tiny handed over the rest of the flower. “He’s just scared and lonely.”The handler nodded, taking the flower as he hobbled away. Tiny pushed his hair back from his face, the green wavy strands sticking darkly to the sweat on his forehead as he forced another smile. “Sorry that took so long.”“Pfft.” Daveth wrapped an arm around him-- partially to hug the little bastard and partly to help him stay up. “Knew I picked the right partner. You’re crazy.”“...yeah…”It was weak. Soft. Daveth knew Tiny was starting to collapse before he even began to slump and he tightened his grip to keep Tiny from simply falling over as he guided his friend down. Alistair knelt aside them. His face was surprisingly worried as he checked Tiny’s eyes and said, “He’s not going to last much longer. Can you get him to the healers?”He could. Daveth also knew the healers couldn’t do anything since they’d said as much last time. However, he just nodded. Tiny was not a light man-- and Daveth was not exactly strong-- but he managed to drag his friend over and get them lain out on one of the beds in the far corner. He stayed there, sitting like a worried hen beside Tiny’s bed along with one of the mages who came and held some sort of spell over him.The old woman’s hands glowed softly, lighting the tent with the magic as the sun began to set and Duncan finally made an appearance. His footsteps were cat-burglar soft as he came to kneel beside the bed.“We must wake him for the ceremony.”Wynn, the mage, dropped her hands and leaned back. She looked about as worn out as Daveth felt as she said, “He’ll wake once the spell fades. I’ve held off the taint as best I can but I’m afraid all I can do after this is ease his passing. Seems such a shame for one so young.”On the streets Daveth had grown up seeing other kids die. Young or not it didn’t seem to matter-- death came for them all. It was one of the reasons he agreed to be a warden when Duncan offered him that choice. The darkspawn didn’t care who they killed and for once… well, Daveth wanted to help. People-- normal people-- had enough to worry about and try to live through without thinking they might die or become one of the hoards of an evil enemy.While Duncan escorted Wynn out, Daveth knelt beside the bed. “Tiny. You have to get up.”Tiny cracked open his eyes and Daveth wanted to just pull the little bastard into a hug as they hummed. “Hm?”“You gotta get up. The ceremony is about to start. Can’t come all this way to sleep through the main event, right?”This time Tiny’s smile only flickered for a moment before he forced himself upright. He was shaking with every movement and looked more like a walking corpse at this point than a person. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”“Hey, it’s alright. I would have gone down for a nap myself. I can’t blame you.”And it was true. He probably would have slept if he wasn’t so damned busy worrying himself half to death. It wasn’t hard to see that the window of how much longer they had before Tiny was out of time was closing. When Duncan returned, they began the ceremony at the far edges where only the wardens were camped.Together Daveth and Tiny watched in horror as the number of living recruits dwindled and they learned the biggest secret to the wardens. For every one recruit that drank successfully, two seemed to die. The pile of bodies slowly grew on the nearby pyre until it was just Daveth and Tiny’s turn left. He helped Tiny over to lean against the nearby pillar and Tiny caught his hand, forcing something into it.“Daveth, eat this before you drink.”Glancing down, he saw that it was the petal. He came back, keeping his voice low as he whispered, “Don’t you need it?”“I'm sure I saw Duncan pick some of this for my potion yesterday and-- I just-- I have a feeling it’ll work. You’ll be okay.”They were waiting for him. He knew they were but Duncan was being kind as he stayed quiet and gave them these last few moments in case they didn’t live. Turning his face away from the few gathered wardens, Daveth stuck the petal into his mouth and chewed.
It was awful.It burned.
He could smell it and taste it all at once. Worse, it smelled and tasted nothing like the freshly picked flower had earlier. In fact, he was pretty sure he could lick the dirty seat of a well-used privy and it would taste better. Covering his mouth with a gag he said, “If I don’t live I just want you to know that was awful.”“And if you do… Can you see if the dog is okay tomorrow?”“We’ll go together. Partner.”

Alistair nervously fidgeted with the strap on his wrist guard as Daveth made his slow way up to take the cup like a man making his way up to the headsman’s block. After so many others had died and he’d watched these two become friends-- the type of instantaneous best friends that he’d always wished he’d had-- Alistair was praying hard that these two would both make it. Separating them at this point seemed unnaturally cruel. Like that mabari looking for the person it had imprinted on-- he was pretty sure that Daveth or the newly named ‘Tiny’ would be devastated by the loss of the other.He’d warned them not to get attached. Yet… there they were… Andraste, he prayed, please let these ones live. Please, please, PLEASE let them live. The light of the torches reflected off the blood within the cup as Daveth reached a shaky hand out and picked it up like so many recruits had before him. The numbers with the joining had always been unfavorable. It was like their odds. Always against them.
And still he hoped.Standing close, Duncan stood beside Daveth just as he had all the others, ready to catch the cup when the recruit would inevitably drop it. Just as his hand touched the metal-- his sturdy fingers wrapping around the base of the challise-- Daveth’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground. Alistair couldn’t help but hold his breath as he watched Duncan set aside the cup and check for a pulse.“He’ll live.”He could have cheered but there was too much training holding him back. Instead, Alistair looked to where Tiny leaned against one of the old pillars. Just beyond was the pyre of recruits, and Jory’s slack face seemed to glare accusingly out at him from the flames. They’d lost so many of the recruits. Only a handful had survived. They'd lose more in the battle to come no doubt. Andraste, Maker, I know I’ve never been a good person. I pretend to be good and I’ve no right to ask this favor but please, he prayed and closed his eyes, please-- One more. Just let one more live. He could hear as Tiny took a deep breath and how their steps dragged. When he cracked open his eyes he could see how the light of the torches reflected ever so slightly off Tiny’s green hair like a halo. Tiny barely looked alive as they slowly stumbled over to stare down at the cup that was waiting for him on the table.“Duncan?” Tiny spoke, his voice soft and raspy.“Yes?”“Thanks. For giving me this chance.”“It is an honor to know you, Warden Tiny.”Alistair echoed the same in his head. He wanted to look away-- to not watch-- but it was important to witness this no matter how hard it hurt. He’d watched the others as well. They all had. So Alistair watched as Tiny raised the goblet up and drank.
Unlike the other recruits Tiny managed to hand the cup off to Duncan before the mixture began to take effect. However, of all the effects that Alistair had seen the ceremony have, this one was certainly new. Tiny curled for a moment, arms crossed over his stomach before suddenly arching back with a silent scream. Light spilled forth from his eyes, nose, mouth and then slowly spread over his body. First in little cracks but then they widened until he was a glowing beacon. Then there was an ear-ringing pop and Alistair was blinking away stops from his eyes to see Tiny collapsed limply on the floor.
At first, Alistair thought he too was dead.One more for the pyre.
That Daveth would wake to see his partner and friend gone.
Then Tiny groaned.Rolling to his side, Tiny curled tightly where he lay and Alistair realized that Tiny… looked a little different. No, scratch that, a lot different. What had previously been a portly little human with a scraggly beard was now a robust little elf who looked ‘roughly’ similar. With his eyes squeezed shut, Tiny clutched both his head and stomach as he said, “Uuuugh. That was horrible. I only have to do it once right? If it’s a weekly thing, count me out.”Duncan simply stared. Truthfully, so did Alistair and the other few wardens who were attending the ceremony and not watching the fields for the encroaching darkspawn. As far as Alistair knew-- and he’d read quite a few of the records-- that had NEVER happened. Tiny dragged himself up, looking far better than he had just before drinking, and braced himself on the table.“I am curious,” Duncan said, hands curling tight on the chalice as he frowned down at Tiny, “what did you and Daveth eat before performing the joining?”Tiny blinked hard, still trying to get his bearings as he wobbled and answered, “Uh. Just Daveth ate. I only saved one petal. I thought it might help. ...He’s still okay, right?”Duncan’s brow twitched. “He is. And you didn’t eat anything else?”
“No. I was too queasy earlier. Kept being sick.” Tiny teetered and fell back down. He groaned from the floor, “I-- I’m just gonna stay down here if that’s alright.”Alistair licked his lips, trying to figure out if he could form words as he looked from Tiny to Duncan.“There wasn’t alcohol in that stuff right?” Tiny asked, his voice drifting up from the floor as his accent slurred to make the words almost unrecognizable. “M’mouth feels rank and everythin is spinnin.”“No. No alcohol.” Duncan answered as he stepped over to stand beside Alistair. His voice dropped low as he asked, “what do you remember from your templar training? Would demonic possession cause… this?”Alistair mutely shook his head.“Uh,” Tiny shifted on the ground, squinting up at his hands, “do my hands look different to you? ...maybe I just got used to seeing those vein lines… uhm, Duncan can I take a nap down here or now that I’m a warden do I have to get up and help? ...That did make me a warden right? That was it?”Duncan knelt down, his frown probably the most intense that Alistair had ever seen. “How do you feel?”“Better. I think? I, uhm, feel really dizzy though. And tired. Not the kind of tired I felt before but more like I have been running nonstop for a really long time.” Tiny covered a yawn and Alistair tried not to stare too hard as Tiny’s new and pointed ears flexed downwards with the action before Tiny continued, “And I don’t… well I mean I feel a little queasy but not the feverish queasy like earlier. ...You know, I actually feel pretty okay compared to earlier. I guess I didn’t realize how bad I felt...”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tiny was almost astutely aware of how bad he’d felt only moments ago as he covered another yawn. Even though he must have passed out and slept all the way up to the ceremony, he still felt like he could curl up and sleep for another year. Although he had no memories before Duncan and Alistair rescued him, he could remember quite vividly how he’d felt throughout today and how for every breath he could

feel

himself dying. Daveth had looked so scared though and obviously to latch on to hanging around Tiny so quickly he must have been lonely so… Tiny had done his best to put on a brave face.

Being brave was as much for himself as anyone else though. There just didn’t seem to be a point in moping about dying. Everyone died eventually.

He was better now though.

A warden.

Right?

Yet Duncan still leaned over him looking worried which, of course, made

him

feel a little worried. Tiny checked his hands again. There were no more dark veiny marks on him and aside from feeling horrendously tired and dizzy, he felt

better

. The best, in fact, that he could ever recall feeling. That didn’t say much considering he couldn’t recall anything from before two days ago. Still, fear lingered in his stomach just as the terrible taste lingered on his tongue.

“Uhm, Duncan?” Tiny said, trying not to feel too awkward or afraid as the man leaned over him, “Did it not work? Am I still going to… to turn into…”

He couldn’t finish. In fact he didn’t even want to think of it-- the idea of becoming one of those things had quickly become one of his top fears. Those fears tightened like a cramp-- clutching his heart in a dull and familiar ache that only eased when Duncan sat back.

Duncan stroked his beard slowly in thought as he said, “The Joining worked. I just have never seen this... effect. Could you touch your hands to your ears please?”
Why? Tiny thought but didn’t ask. He was fairly sure he asked enough annoying questions as it was, the least he could do was simply comply even if the request was odd. His ears started much sooner than he thought they would. In fact, they were pointed outwards enough to grab like handles and he frowned. That didn’t seem right. He’d seen a few of the elves in the camp but he didn’t remember being an elf. In fact, he definitely was pretty sure he’d been human. Or dwarf. He was certainly short enough to be a dwarf, right? Not that he minded being an elf… Now he wasn’t sure though. ...Had he been an elf? Did this just make his ears grow larger? None of the other recruits had changed physically, had they?

Gently, Tiny gave his ears a small tug as he asked, “Was… was I always an elf? I don’t remember.”

Duncan somberly shook his head.

Tiny gave his ears another tug, this time harder. It actually hurt, so he was certain they were his. “So,” he asked very slowly as he puzzled over it, “these…? Does this happen to other Wardens? Is this how elves are made?”

Once again, Duncan gave a slow shake of his head and Tiny began to feel a little creep of panic. He mentally grabbed the panic and like the day he woke up to find that darkspawn standing over him, he shoved the panic into an already near busting mental box in the back of his mind and forced himself to sit up.

He took a calming breath.

Then another.

“Okay. ...am I dreaming?”

Duncan shook his head again. “No. I fear that we all appear to be very much awake.”

Well then

. Tiny took another slow breath and forced himself up to his knees. The word still tipped with vertigo a little but he was able to stay upright. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Alistair asked, looking incredulous and like he might panic as well. “Okay?!?”

Tiny gripped the edges of the table and stared at the cup before he gave a slow firm nod. “Yep, okay. I mean-- this seems a little weird but I don’t remember who I was and I was gonna die anyhow. So, you know,

okay

. I mean, I’m not dead so I can be thankful.”

I can be thankful

, Tiny thought once more to himself.

I can be thankful even though so many of the others didn’t live. What if… I had picked more flowers? Or kept more petals? Would it have helped? Was that what saved Daveth? What made me and Daveth live when a strong warrior like Ser Jory didn’t

?

What's going to happen to his pregnant wife? To the other families? Do the wardens send compensation to the families?

The thoughts were hard to push away-- harder to push away then even his fear of dying from that sickness had been-- but he did it as he pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet. As he stood, he could feel his pants sag and threaten to slide down on his hips. That marked another change since the pants had previously been a little tight in the hip area. Though he seemed to have lost some weight, his height didn’t seem changed since Alistair and Duncan still stood above him. More’s the pity since he would have liked to be a little taller.

It seemed the only thing that had changed was just his ears, weight, and-- then he felt his chest wrap slip. Perhaps it was just the weird weight loss-- burned off by that fever no doubt-- but disregarding the fact that there were a few strange wardens nearby that he’d never met before, Tiny pulled the neckline of his shirt out and peeked down the neck section.

His chest was damn near

flat

. No longer were there tits to make him feel more apart from the others and he stared down. If that potion-- the thing that cured him from a disease and gave him these ears-- could flatten his chest … did it… change other things?

“Uh, Duncan?” He called, finally emerging from his shirt.

Duncan silently raised a brow from where he stood next to Alistair.

“Which way to our latrines again?”

Alistair pointed and Tiny started off at an unsteady walk towards the treeline where the little latrine ditch and green tent had been set up. He still felt newborn-kitten weak as he hobbled along-- fighting to keep his pants above his ass and from face planting from dizziness the whole way. When he got to the latrine, he ducked into the tent and after he’d hidden behind the crate of wood shavings he finally tugged the waist of his pants to peek inside.

I have a dick,

he thought, staring down at the very new addition to his pants.

I drank horrible darkspawn blood, almost died, and turned into an elf with a magnificent dick.

A part of him wondered idly if he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had actually died and this was… well, it wasn’t exactly what he’d expect of the afterlife. Of course, in a world with magic and gryphons and horrible monsters that turned other people into horrible monsters-- this didn’t seem like a particular stretch of the imagination that an awful blood-potion could just randomly turn him into an elf.

After checking to see that he was still alone, he dropped his trousers a little lower and examined the area. He still had a cunt thankfully but instead of a clit he had a dick. It, rather strangely, looked the way he’d
felt
it should look. He might not have had memories but he had had… feelings. Mainly he’d felt disconnected from his body previously-- as if it was all wrong but he didn’t quite know how to fix it. Now it felt… better. Not completely 'there' but better.

Happy with his findings, Tiny pulled his pants back up-- rolling them into his belt to keep them up-- and carefully made his way back to where Alistair and Duncan were. Since they looked to be deep in conversation, Tiny decided that the better course was to go check on Daveth. Of course, he wasn’t sure if the other man would react to him suddenly being an elf but since they’d been partners for most of the day and already Tiny thought of him as a friend-- he was hoping that hadn’t changed.

Daveth was sitting on a cot in the tent with the other recovering recruits and Tiny plopped down next to him with a growing sense of both elation and anxiety. Daveth didn’t raise his head from his hands as he greeted Tiny, “Ho. They told me you lived. …You already walking?”

“Mhm,” Tiny hummed, fighting a yawn. He was still quite tired and he said as much as he stretched out his arms, “I hope they say we can go to bed soon. I know I napped on the cart. And after the forest-- but I really just want to lay down. I think people were talking about a battle tonight though… Do you think we’d have to join? Why would we fight at night?”

Daveth rubbed his hands over his face groaning. “I don’t know, Tiny. I wish we could just tell the darkspawn to attack another night. I feel like I’ve got the world’s worst hangover. Do you think the flower really worked?”

“Maybe? I mean… you’re alive so…”

Daveth finally looked up and nearly fell off the bed as he jerked back. “Tiny?”

“Hm?”

“You’re an

elf

.”

Tiny reached up and tugged at his ear with a sigh as his worries grew. “Yeah. I wasn’t before, right?”

“I think I would have

noticed

.”

“Uh… we still friends?” Tiny asked, starting to worry when Daveth still stared at him like he’d grown another head instead of just longer ears. “You can pick a new partner if you wanted. I’d understand.”

Daveth’s eyes narrowed before a hand came up and he asked, “Can I?”

Tiny tipped his head towards him. Seemed everyone wanted to paw over him since he’d gotten to Ostagar so this wasn’t really new. Daveth was gentle, touching the ears with a fading frown. He moved them up and down several times before he started to laugh. “They’re

real

. I thought you were pulling my leg but…”

“Yep,” Tiny affirmed, leaning out of his grasp, “And they’re starting to feel a little sensitive.”

Daveth laughed, his grin edging on manic as he leaned back on the cot and stretched out. “This feels like a dream. A

weird

dream. I can’t believe we’re alive. And we’re

Wardens

. And what do you mean choose a new partner?”

“...I didn’t think I was gonna live. I mean, I’d hoped-- but after the other recruits died and Ser Jory… I figured…”

Daveth jerked the back of Tiny’s tunic, making him fall backwards over the cot beside him. They lay next to each other for a while before Daveth said, “We’re gonna be the best wardens. You’re stuck with me now, partner.”

“Hell yeah. ...Hey, I need to find another belt. This one doesn’t seem to fit anymore. Come with me?”

“Ugh. How can you even think of walking? Feel like I’m on a boat,” Daveth groaned, already rolling forward to push to his feet. He too wobbled and had to lean on Tiny as he asked, “So who do we talk to for belts?”

“I dunno. I was hoping you knew. We can go ask Duncan. And the tipsy feeling starts to go away if you move around-- least for me it did.”

Alistair leaned against the far wall as Logain, King Cailan and Duncan finished up their strategy meeting. Duncan was walking back to him, somber as ever, when Tiny and Daveth slunk up to stand at his side.

Duncan nodded at them all. “Ho there, Wardens. Good that you’re already up. I’ve got an assignment for you three since Tiny is not as familiar with battle as some of the other new wardens.”

Oh no

, Alistair could feel a twist of doubt in his gut as Duncan spoke. If he was pairing Alistair off with the greenest of the recruits that meant-- “You’re sending me away from the battle, aren’t you?” Alistair asked.

Duncan nodded. “The king himself requested--”

“That’s rubbish and you know it!” Alistair said with an angry slash of his hand as his temper rose, “You have me babysitting the new recruits! I should be by your side--”

“You

should

--” Duncan interrupted pointedly, his voice firm-- “go to the tower of Ishal and be prepared to light the beacon. This was the king’s request and it’s important that it is done. If the tower isn’t lit then Logain’s men won't know when to charge. Hopefully, we may put an end to this blight early.”

“Do…” Everyone glanced to where Tiny was hunkered next to the fire with his arms tucked tightly against his chest as he asked, “Uhm, do you think three wardens are enough?”

“Enough?!?” Alistair nearly shouted though he was trying very hard not to, “

One

NON-Warden would be enough--”

“But--”

“Enough.” Duncan said, his frown stern. “This isn’t up for discussion. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn-- exciting or no. If you are needed later we will send word and

then

you may join. Wardens-- Tiny, Daveth, you’ll both need to see the quartermaster about some armor though I doubt you’ll be facing much battle, they should be able to give you proper protection for the night until you can be fitted.
…I expect you all to look after eachother. I know this task is not glorious but it

is

important.”

Alistair could feel Duncan’s dark gaze land on him as he spoke the last part-- though Alistair couldn’t bring himself to look up or mumble more than a small acknowledgment. Perhaps Duncan might have said more but a call from one of the other wardens drew him away as people moved into position. If Alistair had known that was the last conversation he'd ever have with Duncan, well, perhaps he would have chased his mentor down. Said something. Anything. As it was, anger was the last sour note between them and that anger carried him all the way to the tower.

They were taking the stairs up from the first floor of the tower-- sounds echoing up from below in the valley where the battle had already begun-- when the floor of the tower collapsed and out boiled darkspawn like puss from a wound. All that anger… it fizzled out somewhere during the fight. As they held the doors, as Tiny lit the beacon, and as they watched Logan’s men retreat without joining the battle… that anger was replaced by horror. By grief.

From the top of the tower, Alistair and the others watched as Logain's troops pulled back and death swooped over those who remained. High above it all Alistair could not pick out who was who but he knew that somewhere down below Duncan was down there being slaughtered like the rest of them thanks to Logain’s betrayal.

Even if they could not have stopped the blight until the archdemon arrived, they could have held it back for a little longer-- now there was no hope. He wasn’t entirely sure how they made it out of the tower. It was all rather fuzzy on account of taking a nasty hit to the head but he, Tiny, and Daveth were somehow alive when… no one else was.

Ostagar was lost.

The king-- his half brother-- dead.

Duncan…

Alistair stared wordlessly into the fire as Tiny sat toying with his Warden’s Oath necklace that all the new recruits had gotten. They’d both been somber and quiet since waking up and now they waited for Daveth to wake. The rogue had taken several arrows to the chest. With those wounds it was doubtful he’d live, though Flemeth and Morrigan had worked their magic-- literally-- to save him or so the witches claimed.

What a waste for a couple of raw recruits to live when Duncan had not. Alistair wanted to take back his prayers for them to live. If he could trade them for Duncan he would. If he’d known that was going to happen…

What if his prayers had been answered but the cost was Duncan’s life?

“Alistair?” Tiny asked, his voice sounding a bit stuffy and thick even behind his accent.

Alistair grunted.

“Do you still have those treaties? Or… did you give them to Duncan?”

Wordlessly Alistair pulled them out of the pouch near his boot. They had a little blood on them but they were still there. Tiny nodded, his frown thoughtful as he pulled them over and popped the seal to begin reading one. Time passed and the sun slowly began to rise higher. Light slipping out and over the forest as if trying to wash away the night’s events. Alistair was lost in regretting everything that had happened when there was a yell from inside the hut and Daveth stumbled out of the hut clutching his boots to his naked chest.

“Next time,” Daveth rasped, “Warn a man if he’s to wake naked on a witch’s bed.”

His pants came flying out to smack him in the back of the head as Morrigan shouted, “

Or

next time you might reconsider grabbing a woman’s backside simply because she’s nearby!”

He turned as if to reply only to have his jerkin flap solidly into his face. It fell away to reveal his grin as he turned and tottered towards where Tiny and Alistair were sitting. Daveth sat down heavily beside the fire. The somber mood didn’t seem to have grasped him since he wore an expression like he was obviously pleased with himself.

At least he did until he caught sight of said witch’s mother.

A smarter man might have been cowed-- like Alistair-- but Daveth instead winked at the woman.

Flemeth laughed, wandering off to the little garden nearby and Alistair stopped feeling sorry for himself as he began to wonder if it was just him who was terrible with women. No, wait, that was still feeling sorry for himself-- just a new type. Still, perhaps if things got better he might truly test the theory and ask if Tiny had had any experience.

Surely

he hadn’t.

“Tiny?” Daveth said, pausing in pulling on his pants.

Tiny sniffled and began rolling up the scroll in short jerky little motions as they tried to wipe their face off on their shoulder. “Sorry. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Course I am.”

Tiny’s breath stuttered but what he said next surprised even Alistair. “We should get going soon. Right?”

“Wait… what? Why? I only just woke!” Daveth protested.

“We don’t want to be here at night, right? Not if there isn’t an army to hold back the darkspawn anymore.” Leaning back on his arms, Tiny stretched out a leg to toe a fallen log back into the fire as if his feet weren’t still bare as babes. He sighed again as he continued, “I guess it’s up to Alistair but we should think about where we’re going.”

“Me?” Alistair said, sitting straight with his alarm. “Why me? Daveth’s older!”

Probably not the best excuse he could have come up with on the fly but Alistair didn’t want to lead them. No, he already had other plans…

Tiny blinked owlishly at him before his face slowly melted into a scowl that just seemed to increase the more he stared in Alistair’s direction. “You’re the most experienced Warden in the group-- I can’t even fight-- and unless there are more surviv--”

“There are no other warden survivors,” Flemeth interrupted as she came back to settle onto one of the nearby stump seats to peel a potato into a little dish filled with flowers and other very witchy looking things. “At least not nearby. Though I did not follow any of the darkspawn underground. Nor did I range much farther than a couple miles from here.”

Tiny hummed before giving Alistair a sturdy hazel eyed stare. “Well, I know I’m still only a fresh warden and still more like a recruit but Alistair I’m gonna vote against going underground to look for people.”

How had Tiny known what he was thinking

?

Duncan could have been dragged down there. He could still be

saved

...

Alistair shoved aside the thoughts as he asked, “Why?”

Holding up the treaties, Tiny said, “These. Duncan wanted to use them right? We should at least get them to some other wardens or something. If Duncan did live, then he’s sure to meet us along the way. ...and if he didn’t...”

“He’d probably want us to do it anyhow,” Daveth said, nodding as he finished lacing the last of his boot. “So where would the nearest warden keep be?”

“There aren’t any,” Alistair admitted bitterly. “At least there are none active here in Ferelden. All of them are ruins. Additionally, what few Ferelden Wardens there were all gathered here and they’re all dead. The closest Wardens we could call on are in Orlais and that would take weeks to reach. Maybe months if the snow starts early. Most of Ferelden would be overrun before they could get here. Duncan’s been warning the king of that for weeks.”

Every time they went to Denerim or Ostagar it was a fight to get Cailan to listen and take it seriously. He always flipped his golden hair over his shoulder, laughed, and said that it would be glorious and we had nothing to fear. Now… he was dead too. Alistair had never liked him but Cailan didn’t deserve what had happened. Plus, as much fear as Cailan had over Alistair possibly trying to take his glory and crown, it was painfully obvious that even a raw recruit had more common sense than Alistair.

Alistair was a good follower.

It’s why he’d never be a good king--

Oh Maker

.

The realization that he was closer to the throne than he’d ever, EVER, ever wanted to be hit like a bad rind of cheese. Worse, if his companions found out that he was bastard royalty and could theoretically claim the throne... would they treat him differently? Would they try to make him king? It was a horrible, awful, sobering thought and he wasn’t even drunk.

Tiny stood, dusting himself off. His now longer ears bobbed ever so slightly with every dust of his hands. “Alistair, I know you’re upset-- we all are-- but we need to at least start heading for one of the nearby towns. I overheard someone yesterday say that Ostagar was all there was between the darkspawn and the farms. People are depending at least on our warning them. Wardens are supposed to protect right? Let’s, you know, go protect. We can decide what we do beyond that as we go.”

Flemeth chuckled. “Such a sense of duty. So many might be able to learn from you.”

At first Alistair thought the old bitty was talking about him but then he realized that it… well she wasn’t looking at anyone so it could have been just a generalization. Tiny gave a stiff little bow towards Flemeth. “Lady Flemeth, I wanted to thank you again for saving us and your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome, child. Since you have been

so

polite, I’ve one last thing to offer--”

why did that almost sound sarcastic coming from the old crone

? Flemeth turned and called into the hut-- “Morrigan. Come here a moment, girl.”

Morrigan didn’t quite storm out of the hut but Alistair would definitely have categorized her expression as thunderous as she glared at Daveth. “Yes, mother?”

“The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly.”

“That’s--” Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Alistair and Daveth both-- “...nice. How good for them.”

“And you will be joining them.”

“I-- What?” Morrigan asked flatly. “You’re joking, right?”

“You’ve wanted to leave. Here’s your chance. The wardens can consider this repayment for saving their lives.”

Tiny nudged Alistair with his foot and tipped his head towards the two women. When Alistair didn’t move, Tiny tipped his head again more instantly with raised brows. “What?” Alistair snapped.

Rolling his eyes with an audible huff, Tiny headed over to the two women and Alistair prayed that it was to tell them that they didn’t need a witch traveling with them. Bad enough to be rescued by apostates but if they were headed for a town of any sort, well, let’s not add Templars to the list of problems, right? Tiny seemed to be of the opposite opinion as Alistair heard him say, “Morrigan, I’m sure the others agree but if you’d like to come you’re more than welcome. You both are. I’m not sure how safe these woods will be soon anyhow.”

That

was not at

all

even

slightly

what Alistair wanted. Seems that Morrigan felt the same way though as her voice rose to an almost panicked pitch as she said, “Mother, may I speak to you a moment? Alone?”

“No, girl. You may not. These three must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn on their own. They need you, Morrigan. Without you they will surely fail and all will perish under the blight, even I.”

“What a vote of confidence,” Daveth muttered.

“I--… I’ll got get packed.” Morrigan said, looking defeated.

Truth be told, Alistair felt the same. As Morrigan disappeared into the hut, Tiny gestured to one of the staves leaned against the outer wall. “Miss Flemeth, I was wondering if you had an extra walking stick that I could take?”

“Walking stick?” Flemeth asked with narrowing eyes.

Tiny’s ears and then cheeks slowly reddened as he backpedaled, “I mean, it's no trouble if you don't. I just figured I'd ask since a walking stick seems more sensible than a sword with all the traveling we’re gonna be doing.”

“Are you truly telling me you think a mage's staff is a walking stick? Tell me boy, were you dropped on your head as a child or are you hiding some hidden magical talent under that mop of green hair?”

Now cherry red and staring at the floor, Tiny made a sound akin to a mumbled squeak. Alistair might not feel quite as attached as Daveth but he still stood and came to his rescue. “While I can't attest to his childhood, I can say he actually did fall on his head a few days ago. He actually asked me what a mage was yesterday.”

“Really?” Flemeth crossed her arms, her face thoughtful. “Odd then that the healing spell I used didn't fix his memory.”

Daveth came to stand nearby, just as protective as he gripped Tiny’s shoulder and said, “healers at camp couldn't help either. Not his fault.”

“M’ yes. Well fascinating as that may be, the answer to your earlier question is yes, you may take one of my so-called walking sticks-- on the condition you answer a question.”

Tiny glanced nervously at Alistair and Daveth before giving a nod.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The forest was cheery. It was early into the morning after they’d spent the night huddled in an abandoned farm and it would likely be another day of walking till they finally left the forest. Another maker-damned day of walking with birds singing and the sun shining-- Alistair

hated

it. After Ostagar it didn’t seem right. In front of him and probably the only person who seemed just unhappy was a surly and silent Morrigan leading the way, while behind him Daveth pestered Tiny.

“Yes, but what was the question?”

“I told you yesterday,” Tiny said with a frown as he tapped his new ‘walking stick’ on the ground as if to emphasize a point, “it's a secret. Stop. Asking.”

“Okay. … but

why

is it a secret.” Daveth whined. “We’re partners, right?”

“I--” Tiny paused, “wait… did you hear that?”

Alistair didn't hear it but he did

feel

it now that Tiny had called attention to it. Darkspawn, and they were close.

A dog’s warning bark chased the forest into silence and Alistair drew his sword with a glance at Tiny. While Tiny often tried to help them fight, Duncan had summed up his abilities best on that first day-- an amateur with promise. He tended to have to wield the sword with two hands, his wrist was barely able to hold the blade on its own and his form was full of too much thrust and no swing. What swings he did make were wild and dangerous to foe AND friend.

With a nod towards Morrigan, Alistair said, “Tiny, stay with Morrigan!”

If he tried to argue, Alistair didn’t hear it as he tipped his head at Daveth and they set off together at a run.

It should have been Duncan at his side, just like he should have been at Duncan’s that night

-- a bitter thought that he didn’t have time to dwell on as he jumped the bushes and slammed bodily into the first darkspawn with his shield. It went down with a squeal just before he drove his blade down into the ugly gaping maw.

He looked up once he was sure the spawn was dead, assessing the situation. It was a little clearing at the edge of a farm with some scattered soldier survivors who looked to be trying to protect a handful of farmers who’d stupidly had faith in those at Ostagar. Already there were a few innocents dead, the red pools of blood staining the dusty ground and making dark wet patches in the soil to go with all the other deaths.

Daveth darted in and out of the fray, his bow a blur as he used it to both to shoot and to push enemies away as he forged a path to a cart. Once there he then hoisted himself up onto one of the thatched roofs where he could begin somewhat safely picking off darkspawn. All the while, Alistair waded in like an angry bull and picked off the dazed ones from Daveth’s path.

Thought he’d tried, Alistair hadn’t been able to sleep when they’d made camp the previous night. He could feel the strain as his unrested and battle-worn muscles screamed at the exertion. When one of the large Alphas batted his shield away and raised a blood encrusted blade, Alistair thought that perhaps he’d be joining Duncan a little sooner than intended. Yet that never happened. Instead, vines began to twist and sprout from the ground wrapping around the beast’s legs as it screamed. Moment’s later the darkspawn burst into flames-- not the most magnificent of smells but certainly a sight to see-- and then it crackled away into little more than ash.

One of the farmers-- no,

apostates

-- shot him a cocky smile before he slammed his staff down and sent a ripple of ice into another oncoming group of darkspawn. The vines were not his though. No, they were Morrigan’s. Morrigan stood on the fringes with an unfamiliar female in heavy armor guarding her back as Tiny beat any darkspawn stupid enough to come close with his new staff. Tiny was… both surprisingly good and noticeably terrible with the staff. While he seemed to be managing to hold his own as he beat down darkspawn he very nearly smacked one of the nearby soldiers several times. Only the soldier’s own battle awareness saved them from being brained by the small green haired maniac.

When the last darkspawn was dead and Alistair felt as if he might not be able to lift his sword a moment longer, he turned and glared at Tiny. “What was that? I told you to stay behind!”

Tiny’s knuckles were white as he gripped the staff and his ears went low as he actually yelled back. “Are you

demented

?! Why would I stay behind?! It’s not like

behind

was any safer-- in case you failed to notice but these things pop out of the fucking ground! Not to mention you

didn’t

say to stay behind-- you

said

to stay with Morrigan and she’s right bloody

there

.”

“Yes,” Morrigan said. Her tone was exasperated and sour--

then again when was it not

-- “and why

would

I or he, for that matter, stay behind? I am not some quivering maiden in a tower--”

“That’s not--” Alistair cut himself off with a growl before clenching his fist and stomping off to find his shield. It lay near the body of a fallen mage. Their staff broken in the dirt.

“Don’t mind him,” Morrigan was saying to Tiny who he could

feel

glaring at his back. “I’m sure whatever's bothering him will come out as a whine later.”

“Tch. I just don--” whatever Tiny was going to say was cut off with a heavy thump and “UHF!”

The sound had Alistair’s heart leaping into his throat--

mad as he was

-- he was desperately afraid of losing the other two wardens like he’d lost Duncan.

Alistair turned, shield raised and sword ready to see Morrigan edging away from Tiny who was pinned beneath a large grey mabari. In fact…the mabari looked a lot like the one Tiny had helped muzzle but that seemed too much of a coincidence. No matter the case, the furry grey beast’s cropped tail and rump was wagging furiously from where it stood atop Tiny who lay rigid with his arms over his head protecting his throat. With how pleased the beast looked, Tiny didn’t seem to actually be in danger.

“Isn’t that the one he saved?” Daveth asked, crawling down from the roof with far less grace than he’d used to vault up.

“I was just wondering that,” Alistair said, turning to the farmers and winded soldiers. “Anyone know who’s mabari?”

The family-- and he was fairly sure they were a family-- of apostates all looked at him and then to the large brown mabari sitting next to them. One of the girls-- a warrior with arms almost more muscular than Alistair’s and bright blue eyes--
patted the brown one beside them and simply gave Alistair a raised brow before turning away to rejoin the others in checking over wounds and mourning the man that had fallen. The warrior woman had been the one standing near Morrigan if he could remember correctly.

One of the other soldiers limped over-- a part of their helmet scratched and dented as if they’d taken a risky blow-- came to stand nearby as he gave a stiff bow with his hand over his chest. Alistair gave a bad mimic of it as the man spoke, “Warden Alistair. It’s good to see you still live.”

Alistair stared, momentarily unable to place the man beneath the blood and grime before he remembered his last meeting with the other commanding officers. Offering out his hand he said, “Captain Varel. We were told there weren’t any other survivors. I’m glad they were wrong.”

Varel nodded, his eyes tired as he leaned against a nearby fence post with a groan. “We haven’t come across any others-- got separated from the main group early during a scouting skirmish. Heard Ostagar was lost. Thought to make for Lothering and to warn the farms along the way before going to Denerim but…” he shook his head with a sigh, “We’ve news that they’ve labeled any Ostagar survivors as deserters and Wardens as traitors.”

“Already? It’s barely been over a day.” Daveth asked as he limped over.

One of the wounds on his thigh from the previous night was obviously bothering him. Despite the healing he’d gotten from the witches it was possible he’d re-torn something inside the still-healing wound and Alistair made a mental note to check if that was the case later.

“Logain sent runners out as he marched for Denerim.” The apostate who’d ash-ified the darkspawn said, coming to stand nearby as he leaned on his staff. “We heard the news only about an hour before Carver and Mari arrived … are we going to help him,” he asked, gesturing towards Tiny still pinned beneath the dog.

Alistair considered helping. He did. Yet he was angry and tired --

and probably being unreasonable

-- but since Tiny had decided to come join the fight he could figure out how to get the large dog off himself on his own. Alistair shrugged and then very purposefully ignored the surprised and silent frown of judgment on Daveth’s face.

Intentionally ignoring the issue of Tiny as he asked, “Sorry, who is Carver?”

The name sounded ominous so he felt it best to ask.

Just to be safe, of course.

It definitely had nothing to do with leaving Tiny there. Nope.

The mage turned and whistled, and one of the soldiers broke from the group. They had the same startling blue eyes and dark colored hair as the muscled woman and mage so Alistair was sure that they were part of the family. It was also the same soldier who Tiny had nearly smacked on several occasions. They came to stand nearby, their expression stony as they asked, “What, Garrett?”

The apostate-- presumably named Garrett-- clasped Carver on the shoulder as he said, “This is Carver.”

Right then

. Alistair actually had to tip his head back to meet the other man’s face and see the jutting handle of the massive blade that the man carried. He’d met warriors like this but never had the honor of fighting with one. Usually they would wade out front while the group kept things from coming up behind. They were good for pushing as a group to reach an opposing force’s leader. Dangerous. Strong. In this case, also very aptly named. Duncan had been similar, but like most wardens, his fighting style had been flexible by necessity. After he’d appearantly stared at Carver longer than the other man cared for, Carver hooked a thumb towards Tiny. “Should we help him?”

After another glance at Alistair, who was still stubbornly pretending that Tiny being penned beneath the dog wasn’t an issue, Captain Varel shrugged and gave the others a small shake of his head. The Captain sighed, pulling off his helm as he said, “As I was telling the lads here, we--”

“Marian!” Someone yelled from behind.

Garrett and Carver both turned, worry already on their faces, and Alistair looked up just in time to see the muscular woman collapse. Hastily following behind Captain Varel and the others, Alistair approached the woman who’d collapsed and noticed the faint tell-tale lines beneath her skin. Focusing, Alistair ‘felt’ towards her only to find what he’d already suspected-- darkspawn taint. Judging by her soldier uniform and the gore she was covered in she could have been holding the corruption off since Ostagar or perhaps she was just unlucky this last fight and had gotten the type that would kill quickly. Either way…

The others moved for him as he moved to kneel at her side and check her wrist. The darkness visible in her veins wasn’t noticeably spreading as he counted in his head and waited like the texts had instructed. That meant that she’d probably been hiding it since at least the previous day. Longer if she’d only been tainted by some of the blood landing on her and not a wound like Tiny. He sighed, looking up at Daveth who lingered nervously nearby. If Duncan were here then he could have discussed… but no, like Tiny had pointed out, he was the most experienced warden there and the only one who even knew the basics of the joining ritual. Assuming, of course, that this lass was willing to be a warden.

Varel knelt nearby, his mustache tilted firmly downwards with his frown as he spoke in a low tone. “Looks like the taint. …I heard a rumor, Warden Alistair, that Wardens can help someone who’s been exposed to it if they agree to join?”

Alistair opened his mouth and then closed it again. No. It wasn’t true. Not really-- though the rumor had been spreading fast recently with the appearance of the blight. Some of the less scrupulous Wardens even encouraged the rumor-- to help drive in recruits to fight the upcoming blight. Duncan had not agreed with the practice. He said that it took more than just being a ‘semi-willing’ body to pass the joining. That it took heart and true desire to do good. Alistair wasn’t sure if that was true but he’d seen enough recruits die to know that the process certainly was

selective

.

“Please,” the old woman begged, clasping Marian’s hand, “I’ve already lost my husband.

Please

.”

Alistair looked at the body of the fallen mage who’d been moved and carefully lain nearby with their hands crossed upon their chest. Then his gaze went to Daveth and Tiny before returning to Marian. As the last Wardens left in Ferelden they

did

need to rebuild their ranks--

if they could

-- and it wasn’t as if they’d spread the rumor…

But maybe this was a terrible idea? He should consult with the others, right? He jerked his head towards Tiny while staring at Daveth and got a nod as Daveth headed over to where Tiny still lay on the ground. Though he seemed worried about his partner, Daveth noticeably still kept his distance from the dog.

“Tiny,” Alistair gave the boy a gentle nudge with his foot and still nearly lost his limb to the dog for the action. He jerked his ankle away as the mabari’s jaws closed with a loud snap. Alistair tipped his head-- Tiny hadn’t moved but there was no blood. He wasn’t dead… unless he’d been crushed to death beneath the beast…?

To his relief Tiny’s chest rose and fell slowly as Alistair watched. Crossing his arms, he called again, “Tiny.” When the elf still didn’t move, Alistair sucked in a deep breath and bellowed, “ON YOUR FEET WARDEN!”

Tiny jerked, arms flailing and trying to sit up though he was unable with the dog there. Eyes unfocused, he asked, “Darkspawn?”

Daveth shook his head as he squatted with a grin. “No. Did you fall asleep?”

“I…” Tiny scowled, blinking owlishly as he said, “I didn’t sleep well last night. Sorry.”

Perhaps none of them had. Though Alistair was sure he’d heard Daveth snoring at one point, that could have been Morrigan. Not that he wanted to point it out or ask. Ever. Sighing, Alistair squatted as well as he spoke. “It’s fine. However, we have a problem.”

Tiny, still blinking away sleep, pushed at the dog who was wagging so hard he was vibrating. The dog actually complied this time, moving down so it was only pinning Tiny’s legs and letting Tiny sit up. Tiny rubbed hastily at his eyes as he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Alistair opened his mouth to speak but Daveth, who must have figured it out as well, said, “The girl--” Daveth gestured back towards the worried group-- “she’s dying. Taint. ...like you were.”

Tiny’s eyes darted, “O-kay? ...we did need new wardens, right?”

“I’m guessing that’s not the problem,” Daveth said, staring at Alistair. “What are we missing? The cup? Was it magic? Pretty sure a few of those folk are mages if that's the case.”

Alistair wasn’t even sure if he should be telling such new recruits this but as the only current Warden survivors in Ferelden… well he didn’t see much choice. Alistair sighed before double-checking that none of the farmers were close enough to hear as he lowered his voice. “It’s-- becoming a warden is not a cure. It just sometimes slows it down,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They usually explain more… during training.”

Tiny nodded. “Yeah? So what are we missing?”

Alistair stared at him. “So you knew?”

“Alistair--” Tiny’s brow scrunched-- “I’m not

stupid

. Duncan told me when I asked on that first day? …You were there? But I don’t see how that matters. The topic should be whether we offer to make her a warden or not though, right? You’re the leader. Its your call, right? Or is it more like we vote? Or were we missing something?”

And there it was. Responsibility-- his oldest enemy. He glanced back again. In truth he’d already decided to try but it meant he’d have to do what Duncan did. What Wardens did in general… Then an idea came to him.

“Tiny,” Alistair asked, turning back to look into the elf’s rather intent hazel eyes.

“Hm?”

“Do you think you could find another flower? Like the one you gave to Daveth?”

Nodding, Tiny pushed at the dog who finally rolled completely off and onto its back, tongue lolling, as if it was a goofy pet and not a trained warhound that had just been killing darkspawn. Tiny dusted himself off as he spoke. “Yeah. I think I saw some earlier in the forest as we were walking.”

“Daveth, I might need your help carrying her,” Alistair said with a self reaffirming nod as he pushed to his feet.

Daveth trailed behind, looking troubled and Alistair knew why. He, unlike Tiny, was likely not previously aware of what a warden’s condition entailed. Alistair approached the waiting group feeling like he was dragging a sack full of stones and he came to stand before them feeling very akin to a doomed man. Marian was back to being awake and her vibrant blue eyes were wary and watching as Alistair said, “We might be able to help. However, she’ll need to become a warden and--” his gaze locked with Marian’s-- “you probably will never see your family again.”

Her eyebrow ticked upwards before she made a series of gestures with her hand. Morrigan, surprisingly, seemed to understand as she said, “Yes, well he does seem to have a flair for the dramatic.”

Marian gestured again.

“She says she’ll do it.” Morrigan translated before she turned away with a muttered, “a poor decision but it is hers to make. Death may be kinder than traveling with you fools.”

“I’ll… let you make your goodbyes,” Alistair said, rubbing the back of his neck again and feeling very much like he had just made a bad decision himself though he wasn’t sure why.

He moved off to the side as the family spoke, saying goodbyes or arguing against this plan as Varel came to stand nearby. The old Captain looked near dead on his feet as he said, “I’ll be escorting the family to the coast, along with any others from the nearby farms who didn’t leave before this. You could come with us.”

Alistair shook his head. “We planned to go to Lothering. We’ll refill our supplies as best we can there and then I think we’ll try to find the Dalish. There is still a chance to stop the darkspawn. The old treaties… hopefully people will still honor them.”

By the expression on Varel’s face, he didn’t really believe there was a chance for them to live or for the blight to be halted. To him this battle was already lost with their king. Still, he gave an understanding nod and lowered his voice. “My brother didn’t survive the joining. I hope it goes better this time. Marian’s one of my best. I’m sure she’ll make a fine Warden.”

What could he say to that? Not many people knew about the joining and how few survived. It seemed that Varel had been around the map for a while though and just accepted these things with tired ease that Alistair almost admired.

A part of him wished they could all flee to the coast and then beyond. Leave the blight to tear Logain apart after the bastard left Duncan and King Calain to die. Yet, he knew he couldn’t do that to all the innocents left behind. He loved this land even if he hated the occasional noble bullshit that seemed to land on everyone beneath the royal asses. The people of this land didn’t deserve this. That… and to keep fighting would have been what Duncan wanted.

When the family finished and parted ways, Marian was back on her feet-- though unsteadily-- and walked slowly beside Alistair as they headed back towards the forest. Daveth had gone off to find Tiny while Morrigan lounged against one of the trees as she said, “I’ll wait here while you go do your ‘super secret’ ritual. I know when I’m not welcome. Though, we should probably get moving before nightfall. No doubt there are more darkspawn about.”

And oh, there were.

Alistair could feel them below, lurking, waiting.

When night fell, this whole place would be overrun. They were only

barely

staying ahead of the swarm and it would be pure luck if they managed to get to Lothering ahead of the darkspawn. Now, he just had to hope that this next Joining worked. But first he had to find Tiny. Belatedly Alistair was realizing it might have been stupid to send the new warden who couldn’t fight off alone into the forest even if he was pretty sure that dog had followed him.

Picking up Tiny’s abandoned ‘walking stick’, Alistair and Marian headed farther into the forest. Finding Tiny wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought it might be though. Alistair simply had to follow the sound of the barks to find a very, very muddy Tiny and Mabari trudging back with a mirthful looking Daveth who was holding a flower.

“What

happened

,” Alistair asked when he was close enough to hand the stick over.

Tiny’s elven ears were probably the lowest he’d ever seen, making him look like a giant muddy and very angry cat as he accepted the walking stick. “Daveth

pushed

me. It wasn’t so bad but then the dog jumped in and knocked me over when I tried to get up.”

Daveth cackled, passing off the flower to Alistair before swinging up into one of the nearby trees. What he didn’t count on was Tiny smacking him with the walking stick. It made a meaty thwak and Daveth yelped before going higher and laughing.

“I swear,” growled Tiny, “he’s worse than my brother.”

Tiny’s muddy face went blank and Alistair leaned in. “Did you remember something?”

He actually looked a little distressed as he looked up at Alistair with his wide eyes peering out of the mud he was covered in. “No. That’s just it. For a moment I thought I did but as soon as I said brother…I- I started doubting--... I hope they’re okay.”

Alistair stared at Tiny. Maker, he might have even hugged him if he wasn’t covered in mud. As it was, he settled with a pat on the lad’s cleanest shoulder before handing Tiny a vial from his pouch. “Uh, feel up to another task?”

Tiny took the vial with only a small sigh. “Yeah. Same as last time?”

“Mhm.”

“Need any of mine?”

Alistair paused in his dig through his other pouch. Did Tiny know? After a glance a Marian, Alistair pulled Tiny off to the side and asked, “You know the mixture?”

“Kinda? It was in the book. I don’t think any of those darkspawn were an archdemon-- not sure what that is but it sounds big so that’s just a guess-- but it did say that warden blood from a freshly turned recruit could be used in substitution. Or I guess we could use the blood from one of the necklaces. That’s why recruits get them right? In case something happens?”

“I-- What book?”

Tiny shook a muddy hand and then wiped it on some nearby grass before he pulled off his makeshift pack and dug within. Eventually he pulled out a book that had been carefully wrapped in some old cheese’s wax-paper to protect it. “Flemeth gave it to me. She said it might be useful. I couldn’t sleep last night so I stayed up reading it till the fire died.”

It was an old warden journal. Tattered edges and paper that smelled like it had traveled the road longer than Duncan. Alistair inspected it and then began to page through. The writing went from elegant to shakey. Duncan had carried one just like this-- most of the older wardens did-- but this was by none other than Isseya, sister to Garahel who was the hero who’d stopped the last blight.

“Do you--” Alistair held up the book-- “do you even know what this is? How important this is?”

Tiny’s eyes darted around and he was slowly starting to look panicked. “Uhm, sorry. I’ll just--”

Without finishing, Tiny grabbed the vial and darted off back towards the farm, the muddy mabari following behind. Alistair wanted to call him back, tell him he wasn’t in trouble but Tiny was surprisingly fast now that he wasn’t ill and they

were

on a timetable. Planning to give the book back, Alistair walked back to Marian. She was sitting against the same tree Daveth had climbed. Daveth was sitting nearby looking nervous and less mirthfull than before as he watched Alistair approach.

“I didn’t mean to get him in trouble,” Daveth said as Alistair joined them. “You shouldn’t be mad at him.”

“What? I’m not mad.” Alistair said, pulling out what he’d need from the random travel pockets sewn into his armor. “I mean… he doesn’t really have a change of clothes but that’s between you and him.”

Daveth narrowed his eyes. “Then what did you talk about?”

“It’s…” Alistair shook his head before pushing up from the ground and holding out the flower, “I’ll be right back. Do whatever you and Tiny did with the flower last time.”

The mixture didn’t take long to prepare and he used a pinch of the magicked herbs from the pouch he kept with his supplies, mixing them into a spare vial just as Tiny returned. With the darkspawn and blood from Tiny’s necklace added, Alistair returned to the group and held out the vial in his hands he spoke, “You’ll need to drink this. Wardens give up much to fight the darkspawn and not everyone lives through this. I’m sorry you don’t get the full ritual but…

Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you

.”

He handed over the vial to Marian who downed it without hesitation. Like nearly all who Alistair had seen undergo the joining before this, her eyes rolled back and she slumped against the tree. Tiny was the first to check for signs of life, his hand sliding down from the ear to the lifeblood point on the neck just beneath the jaw before he gave a silent nod and moved back. Now… they just had to wait till she came to.

Except…

Alistair shifted, playing close attention to that ugly dark feeling he’d get in his gut when darkspawn were getting closer. The darkspawn might have sensed him and the others or were just coming this way quicker than he’d anticipated. Either way, they needed to leave. And quickly. Unless, of course, they wanted to make their last stand

here

. There was also no doubt in Alistair’s mind that it would definitely be a last stand too because this group felt bigger than the last. No one in the group was in condition to fight that many. More so now that the soldiers and apostates had moved on.

Alistair couldn’t help but teeter on the edge of indecision though because if they left now then Varel and the farmers might get overrun… yet if they stayed to buy Varel and the others more time then who would enact the treaties?

Decisions, decisions.

“Darkspawn are coming,” Alistair eventually ground out as he dragged himself up from the somewhat comfortable plush grass seat he’d formed. “We’ll need to carry her--”

Tiny nodded, squatting and hastily pulling her over his shoulders before Alistair had even finished. It was obvious that Marian was almost too heavy for him but he only wobbled off, looking determined.

That night as they made camp just outside of Lothering in a now empty bandit camp, Alistair approached Tiny who’d been surly and quiet since Marian’s joining.

“Tiny? Can I speak to you?” Alistair asked as he followed Tiny to the nearby stream.

Tiny shrugged, casting him only a passing glance before stripping out of his mud-crusted clothes and hopping into the likely freezing river. Alistair considered his options for a moment before realizing that he too probably needed a bath after the last couple of days. It was a pity they were all too tired to dig-- a bathing pool and a heating rune would have been preferable to the icy waters. Though… he was not sure if they had any runes left. It’s not as if they’d had time to pack for travel when Flemeth pulled them from that tower.

However she’d done that.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know how that crazy old lady had managed to pull three grown wardens out of a tower surrounded by darkspawn. Likely the answer was more terrifying than just simply accepting it. More so where witches were concerned.

Unlike Tiny, Alistair was much slower at baring his ass to the quickly chilling night air as he spoke. “Listen, about the book, I didn’t mean to take it from you. It’s yours. I just--” Alistair sucked a breath as he waded in and his crotch hit the water. His voice pitched as he tried to continue-- “I was surprised. About the book, I mean. Being a warden isn’t exactly the safest… profession…”

He trailed off, looking at Tiny who was lurking in the water looking half drowned and dangerous with only their eyes peeking out of the water.

“I mean to say the journal is yours. And, well, I’d love to read it, maybe even try to make a copy at some point-- assuming we survive-- and I… you still don’t look happy.” Alistair said as he pulled over his clothes and began trying to rub out the dirt out of pure habit thanks to Duncan’s teachings.

Tiny still glared. His wet green hair was almost black in the dark as it trailed in limp strands over his face. Eventually he ducked under again, emerging farther away as he muttered, “Should I be happy?”

“Uh--”

“No, I get it.” Tiny said as he turned with lips curled in a snarl, “It’s pretty obvious that whoever I was before this wasn’t a fighter and you’ve made it pretty clear what you think of me but for five minutes could you just--”

Tiny cut short, eyes flicking to something behind Alistair before he ducked under the water. Alistair turned, expecting to need to make a naked dash for his sword but instead finding a disrobing Marian.

WELL THEN.

If a mind could both be a cacophony of sound as well as a horrible deafening silence all rolled into one then Alistair could say that his mind had achieved it. At least, it had until he noticed Daveth peeling off clothing as well nearby with more than a few none-too-covert little glances towards Marian’s muscular body.

Daveth met his gaze with a grin. “We thought we’d join too. Get a wash in before town tomorrow. Don’t want to arrive all blood-covered and go scaring the village folk.”

“Ah. Hah. Yeah.” Alistair ‘s voice broke again and he tried to cover it with a cough as he set to more determinedly scrubbing at his clothes.

“And,” Daveth’s gaze followed Tiny as the elf scuttled out of the water much farther down the river and disappeared into the bushes, “I wanted to ask why you’re being so hard on him?”

Curse his voice for still being a little pitchy as Alistair desperately willed whatever badly timed boner he’d gotten away as he said, “Me?! I am not!”

Daveth crossed his arms. Hip cocked and dick to the elements-- the rogue didn’t seem to care if there was a lady nearby or that the air was cold as he said, “really? You yelled at him at the farm and then again after the flower. Since Ostagar-- not

once

have you been nice to him. I know he and I didn’t know Duncan very well but he’s got no memory of anyone else and Duncan was our mentor as well. I doubt you even noticed that he spent most of last night

crying

. Least you could do is treat him as, you know, a

warden

since he’s earned at least that much.”

Alistair cast a nervous glance at Marian who’s back was to them as she did her own washing and he lowered his voice. “He was crying?”

“Yes. I wasn’t gonna say nothin but you’ve been bullying him all day. Even Morrigan noticed. I mean, you left him pinned under that dog long past it being any sort of funny.”

Ok.

Yeah, so he’d been a little petty there but he definitely hadn’t been

bullying

.

Alistair opened his mouth and then closed it. It’s true that he hadn’t been friendly but at first he hadn’t wanted to get attached in case they died in the joining and then… well he was still mourning Duncan and…

It wasn’t an excuse.

He could picture Duncan’s stern frown as he sighed and relented. “I’ve been a little out of sorts. I’ll apologize.”

Alistair spotted Tiny’s abandoned clothes on the bank and dragged them over to the rock where he’d been rubbing the stains from his own. Maybe he could start his apology with cleaning out the mud. He’d washed his own and Duncan’s clothes plenty of times in the past so it wasn’t too out of the ordinary and then he could use it as a conversation starter. As he worked on forming a plan, Alistair set to scrubbing out the dirt from the fabric and tried to ignore that there was a very, very nude woman only four paces from his own very naked body.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tiny stood shivering in the bushes. He’d intended to get a proper scrub in even if the water was freezing but his wash had been made hasty by Alistair following him and then hastier by… well, he wasn’t sure why he’d freaked out when he saw Marian and Daveth but he

had.

As a consequence he was standing bare-assed in the bushes with nothing on his body besides his warden’s collar while wishing he hadn’t bolted like a frightened deer.

It was a war on what he wanted to cover more, bits or chest, and eventually chest won because it felt better--warmer-- to tuck his arms against his now much smaller chest as he stared forlornly at where he’d left his clothes. He could run over there of course and grab them… or at least that was his thought until Alistair grabbed the clothes and dragged them into the water with a scowl.

Tiny could have bloody screamed.

Those were all he HAD

. How badly did Alistair hate him to get his only outfit

WET

?!

Ringing his hair out in frustration, Tiny headed back to camp. The very idea was revolting but maybe he could check the bandit tent that he’d been ‘assigned’ and see if there were any extra clothes. While pragmatic it still felt wrong to think that. Like he’d just murdered someone for their pants. He was halfway across camp when Morrigan accosted him.

“What are you doing?”

He paused, one hand slowly lowering to cover his prized peen while he looked at the witch who was very alarmingly holding a knife. Of course she was holding it over a vegetable of some sort but that didn’t really make him feel any better as he tried not to shiver and said, “I, uhm, I was gonna see if the bandits, you know, had any clothes…”

She gave him an unfazed blink before --thankfully-- setting down the knife with a put upon sigh. “Right. I suppose Alistair did something with your old ones?”

Tiny dug a toe into the ground as he looked away. He didn’t really want the others to be mad at Alistair even if he wasn’t sure why the other man hated him so much. It couldn’t just be because he was an elf now-- though Alistair had definitely been ‘less’ friendly since Tiny changed-- but Alistair had been pretty cold since their first meeting. Only time Tiny could really recall Alistair attempting to be nice was when he’d first collapsed. He hadn’t fussed about Tiny dropping the sticks and had even helped him get to where they were camped and put down his own bedroll for him to lay on. Those were nice things, right?

Had he only been nice then because he was sure Tiny was going to die? Because Duncan told him to be? Had he offended Alistair somehow between then and now and that’s what was wrong?

Morrigan stood with a huff as she headed for one of the unclaimed tents. “I saw some clothes in this one. I’ve got a spell to keep bugs away. Disgusting people, these bandits.”

For someone who’d been living in a swamp that comment sounded remarkably fussy. Tiny didn’t dare say that aloud though as he followed wearily behind her. It wasn’t long before she popped back out of the tent shaking out a pair of brown trousers and green top. “Here we are. Perhaps these will do. Can’t have you wandering around in the nude now, can we?”

Was it his imagination or was she being kinda nice? Actually, to be fair she’d always been nice-- if brisk-- to Tiny. He gave her a shaky grin and accepted the clothing hesitantly. She gave him a brisk nod and sat back down to resume preparing food as she flicked a hand at him dismissively. “Now go away. I’ve food to prepare and that smelly beast was of no help.”

Tiny looked down at where ‘his’ new dog was chewing a bone that had been found near the fire. The dog didn’t look like he’d moved from when Tiny had told him to stay there but he hoped that the dog hadn’t been too much trouble. He’d thought about bringing the dog with him since the beast did need a bath too but frankly, he was a little tired and had meant to take a few moments to himself. He was about to open his mouth to apologize for leaving the dog in camp when Morrigan said, “No. The

other

beast.”

Oh.

“Alistair?” Tiny asked, turning away and trying to pull on the pants she’d handed him without flashing her any more than he already had. “Or, Daveth?”

She looked up, her face a pained grimace and he worried for a moment that she’d cut herself. “I think both could fit that description.”

Tiny chuckled, pulling on the shirt she’d handed him as he sat down beside the dog and stretched his feet towards the fire. “I don’t think they smelled worse than me--” he jerked a thumb at the dog-- “or him.”

The dog’s ears came up and there was a wiggle to his bum as he wagged his stubby tail.

Morrigan hummed as she swept the vegetables into the waiting pot in a practiced move. “True. But I’m not sure you could be classified as a beast. An oddity maybe,” her golden eyes flicked towards him, the fire glinting off them dangerously, “since I’m

quite

sure you were human when we first met.”

So was he. Sitting beside the fire, mostly clean and starting to warm up, Tiny had to stifle a yawn as he tried to answer. “Mmhmm. Daveth’s not so bad usually. Or… okay, he did try to use death by darkspawn and ‘you could be dead tomorrow with your head on a pike’ in an attempted pick-up line to one of the ladies at camp…”

She snorted, letting his avoidance of the whole ‘

you weren’t originally an elf

’ thing slide as she asked, “Did he now? And how did that work for him?”

“I think she was going to stab him if I hadn’t dragged him away.”

“Pity. Perhaps next time we will be lucky and he will not be saved from his own stupidity.”

Tiny failed to stop the next yawn, only barely covering it with his hand. He was still sore and tired from the last few days, now with the fighting both darkspawn and bandits he was feeling more than wiped. Leaning his elbows onto his knees, he heaved a sigh. If they did the same rotation as last night, then he was to take the first watch which meant he still had a few hours before he was allowed to go to sleep. Maybe if Alistair really intended to give the book back then he could try reading but-- his thoughts were broken by another yawn that actually made his jaw hurt as he leaned back against the dog who didn’t seem to mind being used as a pillow.

Alistair snuck back into camp, taking the back entrance to the tent he’d claimed and digging quickly through his stuff. He didn’t need Morrigan making fun of him for running around the camp naked and both Daveth and Marian seem to have thought ahead and brought their spare clothes with them.

Once dressed, he went back for the freshly washed and wrung clothing that he’d left on the bank. If he remembered correctly, there was a rope near the fire that he could use to hang the clothes and he could apologize to Tiny as he hung them up. All in all, a solid plan.

Striding back from the river, he was surprised to find Tiny passed out leaning against the dog in a fresh set of clothes and Morrigan glaring at him as she stirred an appalling amount of chopped carrots in a stewpot.

“I,” she started waspishly, “will not be making dinner for you all in the future. Consider this a one time occurance. Now--” she hung the spoon on a makeshift hook beside the fire as she stood-- “I trust you to keep that stirred and make sure it doesn’t burn while I go wash. And I warn you, if any of you decide to try watching I will make good on that threat earlier about turning you all into small leaping animals.”

Alistair, hugged the semi-wet clothing to his chest as she stomped past.

“O-kay…” his drawn out answer hung in the air and he looked down at Tiny. Well… the apology could wait till the morning. Tiny

had

been pushing himself so letting him sleep was probably for the best. Plus, Daveth had agreed to take first watch anyhow and with the dog they should have an early alarm.

Shaking out his own clothes, he began hanging them as he faced thinking about what they were to do in Lothering since Wardens had already been labeled as traitors. They would, of course, need to keep a low profile as they warned the inhabitants and restocked--

Lost in thought he tripped over one of the logs near the fire and dropped the armfull of clothing he held. Unfortunately it dropped directly onto Tiny who shot up like darkspawn had just stabbed his ass. Tiny straightened, blinking rapidly and obviously struggling to wake up as he scowled down at the wet clothes that were now in his hands.

Tiny took one deep breath, closing his eyes before peeling them back open in that I’m-trying-to-wake-up way before he set the clothes onto one of the logs and growled, “First watch. I know.” as he stomped off Alistair could hear the elf’s mutter, “didn’t have to be an ass about it.”

Andraste preserve him

, Alistair stared at the retreating form in horror as he realized that Tiny thought he’d dropped it on purpose. He thought about running after him to try and apologize or explain, then a fist hit his stomach. Doubling over, Alistair vaguely wondered why the dog didn’t warn him of an attacker until Marian dragged him up by his hair and decked him a second time-- this time rather solidly in the face.

Laying in the dirt, he didn’t do much more than let off a soft groan as Daveth leaned over him.

“So. I’m guessing you’re gonna tell me that you still aren’t bullying?”

Alistair groaned, hands pressed to a nose that was probably broken as he tried to regain some sense of normal breathing. Even templar training hadn’t been that bad and they had

definitely

been rough. Actually, Duncan may have occasionally been that rough in the beginning but never on purpose. More like… Duncan just trained at a certain level and Alistair eventually caught up to it. Mostly.

Daveth tossed down a rag for Alistair’s nose as he went to stir the pot. “You’re a real ass you know.”

Alistair dragged himself up, wincing at the achy bruised feeling in his guts as he gave a stuffy answer around the cloth pressed to his bleeding nose, “I din’ do it on purpose! I

tripped

and dropped--”

He fell silent, cringing as Marian stomped past with a glare at him so fierce that he was pretty sure it could buff rust off an old relic sword.

“Uh-huh,” Daveth said, side eyeing him like he was some sort of suspect cheese that everyone was avoiding at a party.

Maker,

Alistair prayed,

I wish I’d never prayed for them to live. I’d do anything to get Duncan back

.

Sten sat, muscles aching and tired. Stomach empty. Death too far away to reach and yet close enough to still linger on his tongue as he droned a prayer for the dead to entertain the hours. For near twenty days now he’d suffered this small prison as he wasted away and waited for his fate.

“

Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun

.”

Just as he finished this last prayer, a new sound to the people of the town pulled his attention. It was different from the hustle and hush of the hopeless refugees who crowded like goats for slaughter in the small spaces they’d been allowed around town. No, it was a group of rather peculiar folk who were noticeably not refugees as they talked nearby.

“We should go into the inn--”

“We don’t need anything from there--”

“But what about--”

“We should meet up with--”

“Will you

stop

interrupting me?”

They were bickering as the smallest-- a somewhat stocky and overweight green haired elf leaning on a staff-- stared unblinkingly at him. When the others tugged the elf with them towards the inn the elf gave a small wave. Sten very stiffly checked behind him once they were gone and only their dog sat outside waiting. There was no one near him so… the elf had waved at him? How strange. Inconsequential but strange.

What was stranger was how not a few minutes later people boiled out of the inn like disturbed ants holding tankards, instruments, and in one case a cooking pot. The last to emerge was the group that had only recently entered. They were all covered in blood-- likely not theirs since none looked injured-- as one of the men asked, “Did you have to make him EXPLODE?!”

“It wasn’t my intention,” the lady wearing very little and holding a staff of her own hissed angrily back as she stalked over to the nearby well, “he must have been holding a magical object-- but we very well couldn’t just let him

leave

. Not after you simply

stabbed

that other one.”

“He recognised us and said that the Wardens were to blame! What was I supposed to do? Hug it out?”

As their voices dropped to little more than angry hisses and people began to either re-enter the inn or disperse, Sten turned his attention to the others. The now blood covered elf stood off to the side with the dog. Their eyes were wide and they distinctly looked like they were about to run away screaming as they hugged their staff against their chest. Sten’s gaze moved away from the elf when a young lady in blood-covered chantry robes followed after the others.

“Wait! You didn’t give me time to finish! I just need a yes or no!”

“No!” One of the men shouted while the other shouted “Yes!”

Both men glared at each other over the bucket they were using to clean themselves but Sten’s attention was pulled away to the elf when he could feel them staring again. One of the women-- a pretend soldier if he had to guess by the armor-- gestured with her hands at the elf who returned in kind with a series of hand movements.

“Wait, so you speak it too?” The blond man with a bruised face accused as he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the water from the unbruised sections of his face.

The elf just scowled up at the man so he huffed and stomped away. The other man-- darker hair and an unstrung bow in a holster on his back-- slung an arm over the elf’s shoulders, “How long you plan on not talking to him?”

“I dunno. Till it gets old or he starts crying I guess,” the elf said with a shrug.

The dark haired man nodded towards Sten, his expression weary, “Wonder what’s the deal with him?”

It was the chantry sister who answered, her accented voice lilting over the yard towards Sten even though she’d hushed her voice, “he murdered a family and their children up the road a ways. ...Still, it seems so sad to see someone caged like that.”

The elf finally looked away, their gaze dropping to the ground as they muttered something that had the others looking at them like the elf had gone mad. In fact, the dark haired human asked just that, “Are you mental? You want-- you can’t possibly be serious.”

After a final glance at Sten, the group moved away towards the Chantry speaking in hushed tones. They did not return till that evening. Like most of the refugees that had streamed out of town over the day, their packs were laden down and they wore somber faces. Someone nudged the elf forward with a mumbled ‘you wanted it, you do it’ and he stood in front of the cage.

Sten rumbled, “Go away. I am not here for your amusement. Leave me in peace”

The elf’s hazel green eyes blinked before he held up a key. No, not ‘

a

’ key, ‘

the

’ key. The one that would open the locks to the cage.

“Hi.”

Sten stared at them, his eyes flicking between the key and the elf who seemed… like they might be a little simple in the head. They forced a smile, the action bunching their cheeks as they continued, “So, we were wondering--”

“

You

were wondering,” someone muttered in the group.

“

WE,

” the elf said louder, “were wondering if you wanted to help.”

Sten folded his hands under his chin as he stared at the elf. Even sitting, Sten was tall enough that he didn’t have to look up. Or perhaps the elf was simply that short. It did not matter as he said, “I am not a mercenary for hire. Leave me be, boy.”

The elf lowered the key with a sigh. “Let’s start over--” he gave a tight bow and continued after he straightened, “I am Tiny. A Grey Warden. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You mock me.” Sten said, feeling a flicker of anger and curiosity as he slowly uncurled his limbs and stood to his full height. “Or… you show me a courtesy I’ve yet to see in these lands. I am Sten of the Beresaad though that matters little as I will die soon.”

Tiny looked up at him but unlike the others he didn’t seem phased by the fact that Sten towered over him. Likely because everyone seemed to tower over the elf. Tiny hummed, a peculiar noise deep in the back of his throat, before he said, “About that, how would you like to live instead? We need people--”

“Not this badly,” muttered the man with the dark hair and the elf, Tiny, elbowed him sharply before continuing.

“-- who are skilled and want to help.”

“As the lady mentioned,” Sten said with a nod at the chantry sister, “I have been convicted of murder. My life is forfeit. However you got that key, it doesn’t matter, I came to this cage willingly.”

“Come on, Tiny,” the blond man said, tugging at Tiny’s arm as the others started to drift away. “You heard him. He doesn’t want to go and we’ve done all we can here. We need to get to somewhere safe to camp for the night and it’s best if we put some distance between us and that inn.”

Tiny jerked his arm away, rounding on the members of their group with surprising ferocity. “I can’t believe you guys! Why won't you even

help

?! We need

people

. There are five of us--” The dog barked-- “Sorry, six! Against a horde of darkspawn! Are you all just-- UGH! I can’t just leave!”

The man with dark hair took a stance by Tiny’s side. “Tiny’s right. We do need help-- not sure I think we need a murderer though-- sorry Tiny-- but we could at least try. We did convince the Chantry mother to give us that key afterall.”

Tiny waved an exasperated hand. “Exactly.”

Leaning over, the dark haired man whispered, “Is this like the flower thing?”

“Kinda. Daveth, I really need your help up on this. It’s--… I think it’s important. Plus, we already have the key. Please? Partner?”

The dark haired man, Daveth, straightened and stared at Sten, face thoughtful. “Fine. I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to the others while you talk to him.”

While the others huddled nearby, Tiny -- who was aptly named-- stared up at him with a frown. Sten simply stared back. Sten had time-- in fact he had until he died after all and though a small piece of him longed to leave and regain his honor… he didn’t feel it was possible even with a quest as dire as theirs if they were truly fabled Grey Wardens. Of course, he didn’t expect bearded elven children to be Wardens so perhaps the tales of the Grey Warden strength and skill had been greatly exaggerated. Or they were… desperate. Likely the latter.

“Sten, I’ll be honest, we’re all probably going to die--” Sten was not sure how Tiny thought

that

was going to persuade him but that was certainly an… interesting way of trying-- “but I think you’re a coward if you decide to stay.”

That flicker of anger came back but he decided to play along as he spoke down to the little elf, “I am attoning for my crimes with my death. How does that make me a coward?”

“Because you

took

lives.” Tiny clutched the key to their chest as their other hand betrayed them with a white knuckle grip on their staff. Sten wondered if it was fear or anger that clenched their hand as Tiny continued, “And now you don’t want to try and atone by saving some. That seems like a coward’s way out to me.”

Sten blinked slowly as he thought their argument over. His voice meandered laboriously as he asked, “And you propose I help save lives by…? Traveling with you? A child?”

Tiny’s head jerked, like when he chastised his group he gained a fierce expression as he said, “Age comments aside-- rude by the way-- yes. Traveling with us. The more darkspawn we kill the more lives we save. I’m not a good fighter--”

“Obviously,” Sten interjected dryly as his eyes roamed over the boy.

“-- so we need people who are.” Tiny finished, ignoring his comment.

“And what makes you think

I

am a good fighter?”

Sten was a good fighter of course. He would not have been in the Beresaad or a Sten if he wasn’t. Still, this little Fereldan elf couldn’t know that, so what was his frame of reference? Surely he wasn’t considering the murdered eight to be a reference. They had been simple unarmed farmers. Mostly women and children. His question brought silence and the elf’s head tilted as he stared. The sun was dipping the final length beneath the horizon when Tiny said, “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”

A feeling. If the youth was operating off simple intuition then that was… perhaps not impressive, that didn’t seem to be the word he was looking for but it was close. Sten stared at him. Perhaps there was some wisdom to the boy’s words. “Very well, I will join you.”

Tiny nodded, his hands already on the lock and it clicked open as he stepped away. There was no confident smile as Tiny looked up at him and Sten for a moment got the sense that he’d just entered a very dangerous deal but the feeling was fleeting and passed as the last of the sun sank beneath the hill and one of the members of the odd mismatched group ran over. “Tiny! Darkspawn! Edge of town!”

Without a word, Tiny turned and bolted to follow after the others as Sten wearily followed behind.

The evening was deceptively peaceful. If it wasn’t for Morigan’s magic spiraling in little flashes of green and white, the yells and screams could just be attributed to people being particularly rowdy at the inn. As it was, Tiny sprinted after Daveth as they ran to catch up to where the others were. Bodahn and Sandal had been waiting for them at the edge of town-- having met up with them that morning and agreed to travel together since they needed a way to carry the tents and Bodahn… well, he could sell the extra items from the bandit camp.

As they rounded the hill cradling the last farm at the edge of town, Tiny could see the fighting. Even from here he realized that there were more people than just Bodahn and the others fighting the darkspawn. There were villagers there too, or perhaps they were some of the refugees who’d lingered at the edge of town because they were unsure where to go. Either way, Tiny tried to pick up his pace.

He wasn’t simply being modest when he’d claimed he wasn’t a good fighter. Tiny was aware of his failings but he was… well, he was good at being a distraction at least. There was a resounding crack in the night air as he slammed his staff into the back of the first darkspawn skull he could reach. It dropped just as the dog leapt past like a meaty sack of snarling cats onto one of the other close ones. Sten waded past, his face a deadly calm as he grabbed one darkspawn and simply chucked it at another like he was playing a very bloody game of ring toss.

For a while it was mayhem. Tiny tried to do what he could on the fringes, knowing well enough to stay out of the way while the others waged iron death in the meat of it all. It was Marian who cut down the last one. She looked around, her sides heaving from the combined exertion of running and fighting. Once she seemed to be sure that they’d felled the last of the darkspawn she gave a small nod to Tiny. Tiny, once he’d gotten the all-clear, simply sat down in the grass as he tried to regain his composure.

“Is everyone alright?” Alistair asked, a cloth already out to clean his blade as he looked around.

The chantry sister, Leliana, waved a hand from where she knelt in some of the taller grass. “I have injured over here.”

Tiny pushed himself up and nodded at Bodahn as he spoke quietly, “Bodahn, do you have any more of those clean bandages or spare cloth? Anything you can spare? I’ll do what I can to pay you back later.”

The dwarf nodded and shuffled away as Tiny knelt beside a man who was wheezing on the ground. It didn’t look like anything he could help since the man was definitely already dying from a nasty combination of being gutted and a stab-wound in the neck so as someone knelt beside him and took his hand, Tiny turned to the next one beside Leliana. Just a leg wound. After asking for one of Leliana’s daggers, he deftly cut away some of the man’s pant leg and used some water from his canteen to wash the wound. It wasn’t too bad assuming it didn’t get infected or the taint like his own had been.

Looking up at Alistair he asked, “any taint? How do we tell?”

“The wound will turn black. He’s clear for now. Be careful about using water you’ve drank from,” Alistair answered, handing over a different waterskin. “Here. Use this one. I boiled the water this morning.”

Nodding, Tiny set to work washing the wound again as he examined it and it wasn’t long before Bodahn set down a small basket. “I’ll just take it off your tab. I think me’n my boy wouldn’t have made it if you all hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Tiny hummed, cutting a small cloth and folding it to size before he pressed it to the wound. He hoped it was clean enough not to cause an infection but at this point he really just hoped the man wasn’t going to suffer from the taint. In the short time that he’d had the old journal, one of the main things they’d mentioned about darkspawn was the various ways it could change or kill. He’d known it could turn a person into a darkspawn. That it could kill. Yet the other things described in the book-- he couldn’t let others suffer that. Not when his own experience with the taint was so close to memory.

“Here,” Daveth squatted and offered out a leaf with a chewed paste on it. “I prepared some elfroot.”

Tiny checked the bleeding again, trying to gauge how deep the wound was before he asked, “does it need to go on the wound or just on the bandages?”

“In. I think. That’s how we used to do it anyhow.”

Raising a brow, Tiny tried to shoot him his best ‘

are you serious?

’ look but it probably came off as just tired and bewildered. He checked the cut again as well as the cloth to see how much blood was there-- it was definitely deep but he was almost confident no major arteries had been cut. Scowling, he asked, “I think this will need stitches. Think you can stay still for that, sir?”

The man grunted and Tiny took it as an affirmation as he spoke a little louder, “anyone have thread and a needle?”

“Oh,” Leliana turned to her pack, wiping her hands on a spare cloth as she said, “I think I’ve got-- ah, here it is.”

She handed over a curved needle and spool of thread before returning to her own patient. Not the one who’d been dying-- he’d fallen quiet at some point-- but another who had a slice across his chest. Tiny made the first stitch and the man groaned, hands fisting in the grass.

“I need more light,” Tiny said, not looking up as he made another swift stitch and tied it.

Someone moved a torch over, and though the man whined and groaned with every stitch and rinse, he was remarkably well behaved even as Tiny finished and leaned away. “Okay. Daveth? The medicine?”

Daveth held it out. Tiny took a swipe of the so-called medicine and dabbed it over the stitching before he placed a fresh folded cloth over the wound and then wound a bandage over the leg to keep it in place.

“Okay. Anyone else?” Tiny asked blinking tightly to get his eyes to focus.

Leliana shook her head. “Just those three were injured.”

Standing, Tiny looked over to the river that he could see nearby. “Did we want to camp there?”

The patient he’d been working on gave a pained chuckle as one of his friends helped him to his feet. “I don’t recommend it lad.”

“Oh?” Leliana came to stand nearby, as she offered out a wet cloth to Tiny who took it and began trying to clean his own bloodied hands.

“We were’n here for them blighted darkspawn.” He said, meeting Tiny’s gaze with a solemn one of his own. “There’s a bounty on Wardens. But… seein as ya saved me life…”

Both the townsmen shared a look before they began to limp back towards the town. One of them called back, “Don’t be reccomendin to be round in the mornin.”

“Charming.” Morrigan said, crossing her arms. “Tell me again, why do we wish to save these people?”

“Beats me,” Tiny muttered handing the rag back to Leliana, “Bunch of fucking assholes.”

Daveth, beaming, came over and flopped an arm over Tiny’s shoulder. “And you’re just figuring that out? Why--” he waved a hand to encompass all that was in front of them-- “after all there are only four Wardens in all of Ferelden for

exactly

that reason.”

A headache was beginning to throb at Tiny’s temple and he wasn’t even able to force a smile for his friend as he sighed in memory of Duncan and the others. “Don’t remind me.”

“I didn’t know you knew medicine,” Daveth said, following after him as they all headed for Bodahn’s cart. “Could have fooled me with letting that wound on your ribs sit like that.”

“I told you-- it was numb. And I wasn’t exactly feeling well.”

Daveth chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Well at least I know who can stitch me up if I take a blade on the battlefield, partner.”

“Pfff.”

His heart wasn’t in the playful bickering that Daveth was tossing out and his friend seemed to notice as he lowered his voice. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m just… tired. Every day that I can even remember feels like I’m always caked in mud or blood and I… it’s been four days since Ostagar but it feels both longer and like it was only moments ago.” Tiny answered as he crawled up into the back of Bodahn’s cart. He shot a nervous glance to where Alistair was before he lowered his voice further, “And I keep hoping Duncan isn’t dead. That he finds us and knows where to go. I feel really lost and I want to ask about the nightmares I’ve been having-- they don’t seem normal-- but I’m afraid to ask Alistair.”

Daveth took the outer seat on the edge of the cart, leaning back against Tiny as he answered, “You have the one about the dragon too? Like it was talking to you but you couldn’t understand the words?”

“The archdemon? Yeah. And I wake up feeling like my skin's all wrong.”

“Wait,

that’s

the archdemon?” Daveth asked, twisting to face him. “How do you know?”

“The book said that archdemons are supposed to look like corrupted dragons and be large. It’s just a guess though. I don’t really know.”

“...did he give it back?”

Tiny shook his head, wishing he’d never told Alistair about the journal.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Zevran leaned against the overturned cart. They had not needed to kill the merchants from this caravan-- as they’d already been a day or more dead when they’d found the ambush site. Of course, they’d had to kill the bandits

camping

there in wait for the next people to pass through but that was of little matter.

A warning call for travelers went up just before the lady he’d hired for drawing people over ran into view. Zevran slipped from his relaxed position against the sun warmed wood to crouch behind the overturned wagon as he listened to the crunch of running footsteps that were beginning to slow.

“Leli, if I need to stitch someone up can I borrow your needle again? I’ll get one of my own next town, I promise.” The voice was rusty like a young guard who took a bad shift on the first change of season and very strangely accented.More of an Anderfells accent. Or perhaps Tevinter? No... not quite...

A feminine voice with a very noticeably Orlesian accent-- likely this ‘Leli’-- answered, “It’s fine Tiny but are you sure you’re alright enough for this? I could work with the wounded alone while we wait for the others if you needed to rest, you’re sounding worse.”

‘Tiny’ answered with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a sore throat. I’ve had worse. I mean, I already nearly died from the taint.”

“Is that how you became a Warden? I’d been meaning to ask but it seemed… overly inquisitive and I’ve been told that the others find my prying annoying.”

“I don't mind your questions. Yeah I--” Tiny broke off and his voice was hushed as the footsteps stopped-- “these animals have been dead a while and I don’t see-- We… we need to go.”

“Oh… do you think it’s an ambush?” She sounded almost excited at the idea.

Damn. They weren’t close enough and there were only two. Zevran drew his blade slowly so as to not make any noise. At least this was a confirmed Warden but from the sounds of it… probably not the one that he’d been tasked with specifically searching for and hoped would kill him. He chanced a glance, using the reflection from his blade. No. They were definitely not a blond human. Instead, they were a peculiar looking teal haired elf with a staff-- a mage most likely-- and beside them was a woman in priestly robes.

There was a crunch of running footsteps as a human with dark hair jogged up. “Tiny-- here-- I got the elfro-- uh, were are the people?”

Tiny clutched his staff, looking around. “I think it’s a trap. You think you can outrun an arrow? We need to call the others,” Tiny said in a hoarse whisper that carried likely thanks to having to talk past a sore throat.

Ah, that was more like it. With more, Zevran’s plan was surely to work. After today… no one would own him. He’d already hired the most appalling team he could find afterall and though he’d have to put in

some

effort for appearances sake, a fabled Grey Warden

should

be able to kill him.

“Sten and Alistair are alread--”

The group scattered without finishing as an over-eager arrow hit the ground and Zevran was left wondering if perhaps he should have gotten a group that was a teensy bit

less

appalling. The one called Leli dragged Tiny out of the way as the dark haired human dodged in the opposite direction for cover. From where Zevran was hiding, he could just see where Tiny and Leli had taken shelter from the more obvious archers and Tiny cupped his hands over his mouth-- “AMBUSH! CAT!!!”

Cat?

What did cats have to do with an ambush? Was it a code word? How

very

peculiar.

A baying howl went up from somewhere nearby and it sent a chill down Zevran’s spine even though he’d never had a fear of dogs previously. The man with dark hair, hiding surprisingly close nearby, stood and loosed an arrow with deadly precision into one of the archers above. They fell from the cliff with a gurgle, an arrow in their throat.

Zevran grinned and drew his other blade. Springing from his hiding place, he tackled the man with the bow. Unlike most archers, the man didn’t try to get away to keep using his bow, instead he dropped it and leveled a dirty punch at Zevran’s groin as his other hand smacked Zevran’s blade to the side. Zevran barely shifted in time. The blow hit his inner thigh and very much did not feel pleasant even though it missed his prized parcel.

They ended up rolling together in the dirt like fighting brats and Zevran was only partially aware that more people had joined the fight-- and it was truly a fight at this point. The apostate girl that he’d hired was battling another mage. In the edge of his vision, brilliant sparks of lightning and fire were clashing with thorny vines that rippled outwards. A fist kissed Zevran’s jaw and he rolled away from his opponent-- fleeing and hiding out of habit to fight the wave of dizziness. From his hiding place he witnessed the grizzy end to the mage’s battle-- there was a scream as vines encapsulated the apostate he’d hired before it all squeezed like spiked pythons to produce a truly alarming amount of blood.

Contemplating how unappealing that type of death was, Zevran was momentarily distracted until there was a growl. He didn’t have time to react however as he was rather suddenly nailed face first into the ground by a heavy body. Canine teeth clamped around where his shoulder met his neck. It hurt, of course, but the crows had taught him long ago not to fear pain. He could in some circumstances even laugh at or enjoy it. Of course, this wasn’t one of those times and he actually felt… fear. This had been his choice, no, his

plan

but now he was afraid of his impending death as he fought to just try and keep conscious. Frankly he was not doing a very good job at

that

either.

Then he began to notice that it had gotten quiet. There were no more sounds of battle or screaming. Just his own pained breathing into the ground from where the beast pinned him.

“Well,” a haughty female voice said, “that was certainly more exciting than I thought it would be. Perhaps this will teach you to be so trusting when strange women run up to you on the road begging for help, yes?” Something must have occurred because she huffed and said, “As you wish then. I’ll just keep my

unwanted

opinions to myself.”

“Anyone see Cat?... Caaaaaaat?” Tiny’s strained and breaking voice echoed through the canyon.

The dog atop him gave a barking-growl but didn’t release the bite it held on Zevran’s shoulder.

Other voices joined in, surprisingly even miss hauty’s. They called and wandered until someone called-- “Over there! Look!”

Zevran closed his eyes. The dirt here did not smell like Antiva. He’d have liked the smell of home before dying. How odd to think that now. He barely registered the steps as they crunched over before Tiny said, “Cat? What--”

“He’s caught a live one. How strange. Shall we put this vagabond out of their misery?” Miss haughty-voice asked.

“Wait. Shouldn’t we check and see if they were, you know, just bandits? Or if they were--”

“Assassins? Dear, I think you think too highly of yourself.”

Zevran prodded at his brain just enough to speak into the ground, his words were muffled and strained but he was sure they would hear as he said, “They are not wrong though.”

Someone scooted his weapons away and he felt the skilled pat down as someone checked for other weapons. Not skilled enough though since they never checked his front.

“Cat, let go--” the dog growled again but surprisingly relented at Tiny’s command-- “can someone help me roll him over?”

“Shouldn’t we be tying his hands or something? This seems very much a hand tying situation,” a new male said from somewhere.

“Alistair,” Miss haughty voice spoke in a dry tone, “this is no time for one of your kinks.”

“What? My-- I’ll have you-- I--”

As the one called Alistair sputtered, someone surprisingly gentle rolled him over onto his side. Zevran tensed, thinking to try and strike a final blow up until he found himself staring up at the one called Tiny. From afar all he’d been able to see was the peculiar hair color. Up close like this, however, and Zevran felt his breath catch though he wasn’t sure why as he met their hazel gaze. He took in the other details in little bits-- like the smattering of freckles over their skin and that they had a beard which was something particularly noticeable for an elf. They also rather notably hadn’t taken time to care for their looks anytime recently.

“Tiny, just let one of us kill him and we can go.” The speaker gave a defeated sigh. “...Please tell me this isn’t another ‘flower’ thing.”

Tiny scowled up at someone for a moment. Zevran stared at the exposed part of their neck. One cut and the warden would be choking on their own blood. His hand twitched, almost edging for the knife hidden within his belt before he hastily looked away. From the corner of his vision he could just barely see the dark haired human he’d fought earlier throw up his hands in defeat before wandering off with a mutter about checking the corpses for valuables.

“Name?” Tiny asked, turning back towards Zevran.

The corner of Zevran’s mouth quirked in an enticing grin. He absently realized that it was perhaps not as pretty a smile as normal since he could feel the wet blood on his face as a result of being rammed at high speed into the ground by the dog. In fact, he was pretty sure there were rocks stuck to his skin and one of his eyes were swelling shut. Ignoring how terrible a first impression he must be making, he answered glibly, “Zevran. Zev to my friends.”

“Assassin?”

“Mmmm, yes. I’m afraid so. Antivan Crow. Brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens including the suspected bastard son of the last king.” He paused with a smirk. “It seems I’ve failed. Sadly.”

The rest of the group went deadly quiet as Tiny asked, “Loghain hired you?”

“Indeed. I believe that was his name.”

“To kill Alistair?”

“Well, I didn’t get a name--”

Someone-- the man who’d been sputtering earlier if Zevran had to guess-- interrupted, “You

knew

?”

Tiny looked up with a glare that scrunched up his face as if he’d eaten something terribly sour. “Alistair, I

literally

shook Cailan’s hand. I thought that was part of why you’ve been so upset--”

“I’M UPSET BECAUSE
YOU
LIVED AND DUNCAN

DIDN’T!

I’M UPSET BECAUSE I’M STUCK WITH YOU

AND

YOUR STUPID QUESTIONS!”

Tiny cringed back from the one he’d called Alistair, his ears bobbing low at the outburst from the furious and red-faced human. Zevran’s view of Alistair-- his target-- was cut off though when a woman slid to stand between the two. From his groundside view Zevran could mostly only see her rather magnificent and muscular backside as her arms moved as if she was making a series of gestures. Whatever transpired had Alistair stomping away and Tiny’s attention was pulled back once more to Zevran.

There was a noticeable glassiness to Tiny’s eyes as he turned his attention back to Zevran. Tiny chewed his lip as he stared down at him and Zevran noticed the beginnings of a bruise on the opposite side of Tiny’s lip-- he must have gotten hit in the fight-- and Zevran couldn’t help but stare at it as he waited for whatever Tiny was thinking to say.

“So,” Tiny began with ponderous slowness, “are you going to keep trying?”

Zevran tried to shrug and very much regretted the action. Holding back the pained grunt, he forced his best charming smile. “Well I certainly don’t seem to be in a position to succeed at this point.”

That wasn’t entirely true. With his target now identified he could easily take the dagger that they’d missed in his belt buckle-- one well placed throw and a scented smoke bomb and even the dog might have some difficulty following him. Or he could try to just get away and wait-- infiltrate their camp later. Neither option appealed however. The idea of succeeding and returning to the crows made his chest tighten uncomfortably. So did the idea of death even if he’d originally planned for this to be his final end. Zevran felt, rather surprisingly, at a loss at what to do.

“Tiny,” Leliana knelt nearby, one hand on her dagger as she placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder, “I know you said you don’t feel right with killing people but--”

“Let me give you another option,” Zevran interrupted, licking his lips and feeling surprisingly nervous as his mouth continued to run away from him, “here’s the thing. I failed to kill my target first go of it--”

perhaps on purpose but they didn’t need to know that

-- “and so by crow rules my life is forfeit. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will on principle alone.”

Tiny looked up and squinted at the sky as Leliana leaned over and whispered, “Not those crows. The Antivan Crows. The group of assassins that he’s from.”

“Oh.”

As a blush crept slowly up to pinken Tiny’s ears, Zevran smirked and continued, “Perhaps we could make a deal? In exchange for my life I’ll serve you. As a now former Crow I could even warn you of any future attempts as I am rather well acquainted with their wily ways. Surely you need assistance of some sort…? ”

He hoped he hadn't sounded too hopeful as he lay there looking up at the group.

The next to speak was the mage who’d won. Blood still speckled her fair skin and she gave a put upon sigh was she said, “Well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve asked us to go along with--” she glanced over her shoulder-- “and it looks as if Alistair is in no state to give an opinion.”

Someone rumbled from the back of the group, “Surely you can’t be serious.”

“Tiny did convince us to take you, Sten,” Leliana said reproachfully. “However… Sten’s right. There is little to stop this assassin from attempting to finish the job later. He could easily be lying.”

Zevran rolled fully onto his back with a barely held back groan. Ignoring the warning growl from the dog who was rather confusingly called Cat, Zevran pulled the knife from his buckle and offered it up, blinking away the sparking shards of pain that fogged his vision as he croaked, “Here. If you truly think me unworthy then finish me off and let us be done.”

He couldn’t see the expressions since no one leaned over him and his vision was starting to swim and blur in an alarming way but someone took the knife from his hand.

This was it.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and held it, hoping that they made it quick at least. Yet instead he felt the blade slip against the strap of his armour at the shoulder and it was cut away.

“Shall I fetch your pack then Tiny?” Leliana asked brightly.

“Mmm.” Tiny hummed as he began to very gently peel away Zevran’s armor from the wound made by the dog. “If you could, Leli. Please.”

Zevran spoke through clenched teeth and a forced smile as the leather pulled at the broken parts of his skin. “I take it this means you have decided to accept my offer?”

Tiny gave another absentminded hum from where he was squinting at the wound. Zevran could feel the featherlight touches-- which unfortunately still felt like hot pokers-- as Tiny examined the damage. “Cat, I think you broke his collarbone.”

The dog gave a pleased woof and Zevran felt as if the very ground was vibrating under his head from the heavy little tail-wag-butt-wiggle that the dog was doing. Clearly the monster was pleased with itself. Zevran carefully tried to keep his jaw from clenching as he breathed slowly through the pain as he’d been taught.

“Yes, you’re a very good boy but I can’t set this on my own. Morrigan?”

“Ugh. Fine. But only this once,” the mage huffed.

“I just need you to set the bone. I can stitch up the rest.”

It was very unfortunate for Zevran that her magic felt very similar to how it looked. Very thorny and abrupt. Zevran tried to keep breathing as he’d been taught but as the pain twisted and ripped along the inside of his shoulder he passed out with a only barely withheld groan.

Marian relaxed against the basket of ‘merchandise’ which was all likely just pilfered items from the homes of the fleeing or dead. Her gaze was focused up at the brightly colored clouds that the day’s sunset brought. By now her family was --hopefully-- far enough that this wasn’t the same sunset they were seeing. Yet... she almost wished they were. Or at the very least, she wished that she knew they were okay. With the blight and now looming civil war it’s not like any of them really would have time to write letters or guarantee that one could be sent. Runners would be limited to nobles and troops if they weren’t simply put to death out of stupid paranoia.

She still couldn’t believe she and Carver had been labeled deserters just for surviving Logain’s treachery. Or that their father was dead. She still felt… numb. Seeing him cut down-- and then having to abandon his body like that-- it didn’t feel real.

Huffing, she flexed her arm and regretted it. She’d caught a blade in the fight yesterday and after Tiny had patched the assassin, he’d dressed her wound too. It wasn’t the worst wound she’d had. Tiny wasn’t the worst healer either but it seemed you didn’t meet many without magic. You also didn’t meet many like him who were willing to just patch up everyone they came across for free.

Thinking of Tiny, she nudged him with her foot. He was sitting on the edge of the cart to prevent the still unconscious assassin from falling out. All his attention was absorbed in some old book, and he didn’t seem to notice her nudge past the jolting of the cart. Looking around, she spotted Bodahn’s supply of arrows --mismatched and from a battlefield or bandit camp no doubt-- and pulled the longest one she could see. Holding the head, she used the end to tap against Tiny’s arm.

He looked up, alarmed and obviously not completely aware of what was going on. Not great for a soldier but it reminded her of her twin, Garrett, when he’d get immersed in a book. It’s how he’d once gotten covered in ants and had run screaming like a banshee past her to dive into the river. She tapped Tiny’s arm again with the arrow shaft and this time he looked under his arm and at his ‘patient’. Marian waited-- very patiently-- until he finally looked up at her when she tapped him again.

*

Making camp soon?

* she signed towards him, careful to go slow in case there was a word he didn’t understand.

It was a pleasant surprise that so many of their group knew sign language but she’d learned early that Tiny was a little worse at it than the others. Actually, it wasn’t that he was worse but that he seemed to know a different type that was ‘similar’ enough for him to communicate but not exact. It made things difficult at times but he was adjusting and she almost didn’t want to let him know that the sign he’d used a few mornings ago for ‘socks’ had a slightly more lewd meaning that he could probably handle. Poor lamb seemed as innocent as they come... though he never blushed the way Alistair did over nudity. No, he tended to flee the scene instead like a startled starling.

Then again the poor elf was rather flighty in general but she was sure it was because of Alistair.

Tiny shifted as if to sign back but the cart jostled and nearly tossed him off the edge. Gripping his book and the edge of the cart like his life depended on it, Tiny croaked out, “Alistair wanted to get to a clearing near the forest so we can look for the dalish in the morning. He thinks we’re close to where they normally camp at this time of year.”

She scowled. Tiny sounded worse and that brute Alistair had been positively beastly to the elf ever since she’d met him. In fact Alistair had been worse since the night that she’d hit him for throwing that wet clump of clothes on the lad. She was sure that’s when Tiny got sick but he was fairly committed to hiding it-- or at least he was trying except that his normally soft voice now sounded like a dying crow. She worried that it was going to go into his lungs with how his coughs had sounded the previous night.

Perhaps she could convince Morrigan and Daveth to help her find supplies for the stew her father had always made when anyone in the family got sick…

Tiny shifted, bringing his leg up onto the cart so that he could sit sideways and face her better as he gave her a shy smile. “How’s your arm feeling?”

Marian gave a purposeful flex before signing, *

It is ok. Just sore.

*

He nodded slowly, his eyes still on her hands. “Ok. I’ll take another look at it after we stop if you want. We should probably change the bandage anyhow.”

Daveth, who was walking beside the cart and doing a very poor attempt at juggling some rocks, asked, “how many bandages do you even have? You never seem to run out. Are you sure you aren’t hiding some sort of strange magical talent?”

Tiny shrugged. “Like five? They get washed.”

“Really? When do you have the time with Alistair’s ‘training’ and having your nose in that book?”

Morrigan huffed a sigh from where she perched at the front of the cart. “If you must know, I've been washing them for him with my monthlies while Alistair beats him senseless.”

Daveth tripped, dropping one of his rocks. “What?”

“What’s confusing?” Morrigan said, her tone turning syrupy sweet, “that I help Tiny or that Tiny lets himself be bullied around by that idiot?”

Personally Marian was wondering about the latter but Tiny didn’t give Daveth time to rise to Morrigan’s bait as he simply shrugged and said, “Duncan told me when we met that wardens train in all combat types and I’m a Warden... and training with Alistair is probably better right now than taking Sten up on his offer-- no offense Sten. I just don’t think I’m strong enough yet.”

Sten nodded, his expression as flat as his tone as he said. “None taken. However, I don’t see how one can learn from being knocked into the ground so many times. It is obvious that you are not meant to wield a blade that size.”

“Yeah I had an… accident…” Tiny’s expression glazed as he stared at one of his hands. “I think. With my hands.” He huffed and leaned back, head lolling over the rail of the cart as he said, “And here I almost thought I could remember.”

His memory problems were, for the most part, well known around the camp and Leliana patted his leg from where she walked nearby. “I’m sure your memory will come back eventually. The Maker works in strange ways sometimes.”

“It’s been two weeks since I fell out of that tree. You’d think that if it was gonna come back that it would have happened by now… right?”

Morrigan shrugged, handing a tool that had fallen into her lap back to Sandal who had been quietly carving runes for most of the day for Bodahn to sell in Redcliff. She braced her chin on her hand as she said, “Not necessarily. Though the only medical text I’ve read was of some age, I believe that your memory loss is magical in nature since it could not be healed even by my mother.”

The cart hit a bump, nearly tossing Tiny and the assassin woke with a groan. His rich accent curled in the evening air as he groused, “Not that I am complaining but I may be wishing you had killed me instead.”

“That,” Sten said slowly as he began to pull his blade, “could be easily arranged.”

Marian couldn’t see Tiny’s glare as he turned to face Sten but she could hear it in his voice as he chastised, “Don’t you

dare

. I didn’t just patch him up for you to cut him open again!”

Sten looked away with a deep harrumph.

The cart hit another bump and the assassin let out another pained grunt. Tiny turned, tucking his book away into a nearby pack as he wobbled and moved so that he was partially kneeling over the assassin. “We’re almost to where we plan to camp. Sorry. I can try and move some stuff to pillow you better if you want.”

“No, no. This is--nnnngh--” they hit another bump and his pained whine was only barely stifled before he tried to continue-- “I have had worse. It’s fine.”

Tiny hummed, already digging through the pile that was ‘his’ and pulling out a blanket which he folded. “Marian? Can you help me get him leaned up?”

Before Marian could reply or even move, the assassin dragged himself up. His tanned skin went ashy pale as he spoke. “Truly, it’s no problem.”

“You--” Tiny said, quickly putting down the cloth and helping the assassin scoot to sit against it-- “are an idiot. And lying. Here, hold your arm up to your chest-- yes, now keep it there for a moment.”

The assassin-- Zevran, if Marian remembered the name he said correctly-- simply gave a pained chuckle as Tiny pulled out another cloth from one of the nearby packs and began to wrap and tie it around to immobilize both arm and shoulder. “Well, who am I to say --nnng-- no to being fussed over by a handsome mage? ...I must say though, this is a very ineffective way of tying someone’s hands.”

Finished, Tiny leaned back. His balance wobbled dangerously as he eyed the job he’d done and answered. “Morrigan set your collarbone yesterday but it’s not really

healed

so you need to keep that arm and shoulder immob-- wait, did you say handso--” He cut himself short with a shake of his head-- “nevermind. You should stay in the sling for the next few days. I’d recommend longer but you seem like the type who likes to push limits.”

Zevran simply laughed.

Shaking his head and looking worn, Tiny turned away and hopped off the cart with only a small amount of stumbling. “Leli, you can have my spot. Daveth, could you help me collect some plants? The journal had some potion suggestions that I want to try.”

As Leliana hopped up and settled onto the spot that Tiny had vacated, Tiny and Daveth wandered to the side of the road. Their conversation drifted out of her hearing range and Marian was left to simply stare up once again at the clouds. Already the sunset was fading. Bleeding away. Once again she was stuck with her mind wandering back to her family and she hoped beyond all hope that they’d made it to the coast alright.

She must have nodded off because she woke when someone touched her arm. It was dark but there was enough light from the moons that she could see it was Tiny who knelt awkwardly beside her in the half-unpacked cart. He covered a cough, turning away and wheezing into the crook of his arm before he faced her with a smile and said,
“Hey. We’re making camp. Alistair wanted to know if you wanted him to set up your tent?”

Her eyes trailed to where Alistair was helping set up the other tents and she nodded. She didn’t trust or even like Alistair but he, at least, knew how to set up a camp that wouldn’t collapse. They’d left the task to Tiny once. Even missing his memories there were many things the elf could do but set up a tent was apparently not one. He’d accepted the failure pretty gracefully though and resolved to learn.

With her nod, Tiny hopped down and gave a wave to Alistair before squatting to dig through a nearby pack. As Marian set to trying to wake up, she took a seat beside Leliana who was toying with a flower. When she caught Marian looking, she held it up. “Isn’t it lovely? Tiny picked some when he was gathering ingredients for a potion for our newest member … It’s funny my mother used to pack her clothes with these. Oh--” Leliana turned and reached for something behind her and pulled out another flower. The purple petals stood out even in the fading light-- “he brought this one for you but you were asleep.”

Since Leliana didn’t know the sign language that Marian used-- the orlesian version was too different to even compare-- Marian simply toyed with the vibrant purple flower and watched the guys go about setting up camp. Normally she would have helped but Tiny was surprisingly strict when it came to injuries and she made it a practice to listen to healers when they gave orders. Especially simple orders like resting for another evening.

The only other person who didn’t help was the assassin who was set up against a nearby tree with Tiny’s pack to pillow his back and bedroll to sit on. Marian felt conflicted-- perhaps even a little annoyed-- over Tiny’s tendency to help people. More specifically she was annoyed that the tendency stretched to rescuing murderers in cages and assassins that had just tried to kill them. Zevran, however, seemed tame enough now as he stared up at the trees above him with a sleepy expression.

“Tiny,” Alistair approached the elf with a familiar stormy expression and Marian tensed. If she needed to beat the man senseless again then she would.

She’d hoped that her first lesson had been enough but after today’s outburst from their Warden ‘leader’ she’d been considering revisiting his face with her fist. Healer’s orders or not she was going to beat Alistair until he could barely breathe today if he bullied Tiny anymore today. She’d seen that glassy-eyed look the poor elf had gotten-- they all had-- and it was only years of dealing with her brothers that had held her back earlier.

Alistair’s voice was low but not so low that Marian couldn’t hear as he asked, “are you sure about… him?”

Tiny crossed his arms, glaring up at Alistair defiantly as he replied, “Yes. And I’ve already told you, he can have my tent again. I’ll sleep with Cat at the edge of camp and take watch since he’ll wake me if there is anything nearby.”

“But should we trust--”

“Probably not,” Tiny snapped. He looked away, his voice softening, “but I’m going to anyway. Duncan said the Wardens often conscripted people from prisons-- and that their pasts belonged in the past as long as they fought darkspawn. Personally? I trust Sten and Zeveran and Morigan more than anyone rich or royal because it's not an assassin that betrayed us and left us to die. It wasn't

Logain

who pulled us out of the tower either if you remember-- so excuse me if I trust all these so-called 'bad' people more because so far they have proven themselves as far more honest and reliable than some royal asshole like

you

."

Alistair jerked back, his mouth open for rebuttal. He seemed to reconsider and his mouth closed. The man’s lips were a thin line as he rubbed at the back of his neck. When he did finally speak his voice was surprisingly meek, “Right. ...Listen, about yesterday. I’m sorry. I lost my temper and you-- you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes you did,” Tiny said quietly as he turned away. “But thanks for trying to apologize. ...I’m gonna go gather some wood for tonight.”

“Take Cat.” Alistair said with a nod. “And Tiny?”

Tiny had already started to head off with Cat by his side and he turned to stare silently at Alistair from over his shoulder.

“Be careful.”

The expression on Tiny’s face was unreadable and he simply stared at Alistair for an uncomfortably long pause before turning and patting his leg as he walked. Cat trotted after him with a happy wag of his stubby tail.

Yet, as the moon crawled higher into the sky Tiny didn’t return. As time wandered on, a restlessness settled into the camp. Only a small fire was started with sticks-- waiting for Tiny’s return contribution and they kept feeding more into it as their worries grew. Marian was sure she’d heard howls in the distance at one point and Daveth must have as well because he paced the edge of camp looking nervous with his bow in hand.

That nervous energy turned to alarm when a dalish elf walked into camp. The stranger scowled around the group as everyone tensed and eventually the elf asked, “Who here is a Grey Warden?”

Alistair stepped forward. “I am. As are they--” he gestured to Marian and Daveth-- “and another from our group who was in the forest.”

“Yes. Your companion and their hound were injured assisting some of our hunters.” The elf crossed her arms, her bright green eyes narrowing as she gave a huff. “In thanks, the keeper has asked that I inform you of the danger of these woods and to extend an invitation to join our camp.”

The dalish elf looked very much like she wanted anything but to extend that invitation. Alistair and Daveth shared a glance before Alistair asked, “And what, exactly, is the danger of these woods.”

“Werewolves,” The elf said flatly.

“Ah. … how far is your camp?” Alistair asked, looking back at the already set-up tents and half prepared dinner.

“Far enough,” the elf gave another annoyed huff before she said, “but the Keeper has instructed us to help you move if you wish it, shem.”

“Right… just a moment.”

Alistair nodded to the others and walked, very surprisingly over to where Leliana and Marian sat. His face was unusually serious as he said, “Does anyone have a vote?”

Though tired, everyone shared glances and knowing looks. “We should move,” Daveth was the first to say. “Or some of us should go at least to see if Tiny’s okay. ...I’ve fought one. A werewolf. It was… bad. Plus, the dalish might not like outsiders but it would be safer to combine our numbers. And the fire will be easy to put out.”

Because Tiny was getting the wood

, Marian thought as she stared between them. Marian simply nodded her agreement with Daveth, though she didn't let go of her flower to sign more.

“The camp is all set up though…” Leliana objected-- though it was more of a whine than an objection since they were all tired after pushing so hard to put more distance between them and where the assassin had been fought the day before.

“It’s either move or have twice the normal amount on watch,” Alistair countered.

Leliana nodded, already packing away her lute into the travel bag that she kept it in as she said, “It’s better to be safe. I’m sure Tiny would not appreciate having to stitch us up just because we felt like being lazy.”

“So... we’re in agreement?”

Everyone nodded and Alistair walked back to where the elf stood looking displeased and bored. Their conversation was hushed as Daveth and Bodahn started collapsing the tents with unusual haste. Morrigan dumped the half-prepared meal into the cauldron for Sten to carry over to the cart. With a huff, Marian caught Leliana’s attention and nodded to the assassin who was watching the goings on with half-lidded eyes.

Leliana nodded and together she and Marian headed over after setting their flowers aside. Zevran grinned up at them. “Hello, we seem to be moving a lot sooner than expected. Or that potion has made this night go quite quickly. I think the moon is still up though. That

does

make it night, yes?”

Marian raised a brow in question and Leliana grinned as she explained, “Tiny mixed a potion. He said the journal mentioned it for helping with the pain but it made Zevran a little… out of sorts. He was flirting with the tree earlier.”

“I still maintain that they are lovely branches. Very firm.” Zevran said with a wink.

Leliana squatted. “We need to move though. You probably don’t feel up to walking yet, do you?”

The flirty smile faded and his lips pressed together as he tucked a leg and pushed himself upwards. Marian could see him struggling and she moved to brace him on his uninjured side. “Ah. Thank you, though I’m quite capable of making it on my own.” He said through clenched teeth. “I am curious, did the little mage go somewhere?”

Leliana answered as she picked up Tiny’s pack and bedroll. “Tiny isn’t a mage. And he went to get firewood but he-- Oh… oh dear…”

Marian glanced back to see Leliana holding the staff that Tiny typically fought with.

“...He didn’t have his staff. I do hope he wasn’t hurt too badly,” Leliana said with a sigh as she got to her feet.

Marian couldn’t do much more than nod in agreement since her hands were busy and the little redhead wouldn’t have understood her anyhow. The walk to the dalish camp was tense and Marian walked beside the cart with her hand on her sword. Healers orders or not-- werewolves could be dangerous and she planned to be ready. Thankfully, there was no attack. It was a shorter time than she’d expected-- days full of walking had likely skewed her perception-- before they reached the cheery already lit fires of the dalish camp.

As Alistair went to talk to this ‘keeper’, Marian followed behind Daveth as another elf led them to where Tiny was. Beside the cot was an unhappy looking Cat-- she found the dog’s name hilarious. She’d listened to Tiny saying names up until the mabari seemed to choose that one himself. Poor Cat held none of his usual joy now as he lay beside the bed looking as worried as a mabari could look.

There was also an elf kneeling beside him and she stood hastily as they approached. “

Andaran atish’an

, outsiders. I am Lanaya. I assume you are some of the companions that the Warden spoke of?”

Daveth nodded as Marian moved to try and see how badly Tiny was wounded. “Yes. Is he alright?”

There was a cloth, likely seeped in some sort of elfroot solution and it was slicked to Tiny’s face and there were more on his chest and waist-- stained red by blood. Lanaya nodded before kneeling back down and Marian noticed a barely visible healing glow that came from her outstretched hand as she spoke. “Yes. But only just. I have been tasked with healing his injuries as best I can but there is no telling if he will get the curse or not.”

“Curse?”

Marian moved to the other side of the cot and knelt to rub over Cat’s ears. The poor dog grumbled and shifted to rest his head on the cot. It was difficult not to let that worry be infectious. True, it had only been a couple weeks since she’d joined but Tiny reminded her so fiercely of her twin brother sometimes that she couldn’t help but feel attached. More so when he did stupid silly things like bring everyone flowers or hum while he cooked.

Lanaya shifted, moving her glowing hands slowly up to hover above Tiny’s face as she answered. “Yes. I’m afraid that the curse these werewolves carry can be given with just a simple bite. Our hunters say the warden tackled one of the beasts that were stalking them before it had a chance to attack. He was bitten in the process but his actions saved our hunting party.”

Daveth moved to sit beside her, his back leaning against the stump. He toyed with the head of a broken arrow that Tiny had made into a necklace for him as he muttered, “Idiot. Didn’t even have his staff with him.”

*

Brave idiot

.* Marian signed with a small smile.

Daveth chuckled. “Yeah. Brave idiot. ...I need to go help get the tents set up and see who’s cooking since it was Tiny’s turn. You’ll stay here, right? In case he wakes up?”

Marian gave a slow nod. She didn’t have much else to do unless there was an attack. Daveth pushed up from the ground with a groan before he patted her good shoulder. “Thanks, Marian. I’ll, uhm… I’ll bring you a bowl when dinner is ready.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tiny woke, feeling more rested than usual but his dream lingered like a bad taste in his mouth. For the first time that he could remember, he hadn’t dreamt of the darkspawn. It was strange-- it felt like there was something very peculiar with how these new dreams felt. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing that felt strange. There was a crusty tight feeling patch on the side of his face and he reached up slowly, wondering if Cat had licked him in his sleep.“ Aneth ara , Warden. It is good that you wake.” An unfamiliar voice said from somewhere above him, making his hand pause and lower.
Tiny cracked open the one eye not currently covered in whatever was crusted over his face and looked for the source. He wasn’t quite sure where he was but a pretty elf with meticulously interwoven tattoos curving over her brow was leaning over him.
“How are you feeling?”Licking his lips, he tried to remember why he was laying next to a stranger in a camp that wasn’t with his companions. At least he still remembered his companions , he thought darkly even if he was already wondering if he’d perhaps lost more memories. “Uhm--” his throat was still sore which felt like a good sign because that meant not much time had passed. He had to clear his throat before his rusty voice would work, “sorry, but where am I?”“Do you not remember?” Well… it certainly wouldn’t be the first time . He took a deep breath and tried to push aside the weird dream. “I’m, uh, afraid the last thing I-- uhm… I didn’t tackle a werewolf, did I?”She leaned back, the fur on her little capelet ruffling with the soft morning breeze as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her delicately pointed ear. “You did. Our hunters were able to fend off the surprise attack thanks to you. Do you remember anything else?”That meant his dream was… partially not a dream? He wasn’t sure. It felt so unreal that he wasn’t sure what to think. He swallowed, trying to ignore the nasty morning taste in his mouth as he blinked and watched the leaves above. The sun was coming up but the clouds made the sky a pale white behind the canopy of green. “I think I remember bleeding,” he answered with a wheezy laugh, “but I’m afraid it’s a little spotty after that.”A smile slowly edged over her face as she said, “So you do not remember proposing marriage?”Oh. Stars. Did he accidentally take some of the potion he’d given to Zevran? He’d had some left so if he’d gotten injured he might have. His gaze darted to her, an apology already on his lips only for her to break from his panicked gaze with a laugh. Her hand covered her mouth and her smile as she said, “Ir abelas. I am joking. Tel’enfenim, Warden. I will return in a moment and we can see how your wounds are.”When she came back with a little bowl of water, she wasn’t alone. Alistair came and squatted nearby as she dabbed water onto the patch covering the side of his face. It went from feeling crusty to feeling disgustingly slimy-- like a slug stuck on his face-- and he tried not to squirm in discomfort as Alistair stared at him.“Tiny… what were you thinking ?” Alistair eventually asked when the pretty elf went to go change the water.“That we wanted allies,” Tiny answered as he tried to focus his gaze anywhere other than Alistair's extremely disappointed expression. He clenched the hand opposite of Alistair and stared up at the sky while his tongue decided to keep going, “and I know we need wardens but I’m not a great one. And I know you hate me because I’m not Duncan-- even *I* hate me-- and I want him back too. ...And--” he sighed as he finally looked back at Alistair as he said, “and, honestly, I’m pretty sure there was a lot of not thinking involved in trying to fistfight a werewolf. Because it was an incredibly stupid thing to do.”Alistair rubbed his face. He looked tired. Worn. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I didn’t even mean to--” he looked away when the elf came back. “Look… just… get better okay? I’m sorry. For being a jerk. I know losing your memory has been hard and it’s been a rough couple of weeks but just… you know-- Daveth has been a wreck. You know how bad his aim gets when he’s worried. I-- Tiny, you don’t need to be Duncan. He’d… he’d be proud of us. Of you. We've lost so many Wardens, I… I don't want to lose you too.”Tiny swallowed. He could feel those really obnoxious tears that sprouted anytime he was feeling overwhelmed and he hated it. He tried hard to keep the others from seeing how often he cried. He got enough jokes from the others about looking young-- though he was sure that he was older than they all thought, yet with no memory he could never be one hundred percent. More-so when he cried like a child all the time.“Here,” Alistair pressed something into Tiny’s closest hand. “I was going to give this to you in Lothering but you weren't talking to me. Duncan used to keep one like it. Most wardens do actually and I just figured maybe if you kept one then if you ever lose your memories again… Just get better, okay?”Tiny didn’t look at what it was until Alistair’s footsteps faded off. He lifted it to where he could see and found himself having to blink rapidly as he returned his gaze to the canopy. A blank journal. He was exceedingly glad that the elf checking over his wounds seemed content with humming to herself and not mentioning the fact that his uncovered eye was leaking tears like a waterskin with a hole.
“Your leader seems nice. For a shem.” She eventually said as she dabbed something wet and cold to his chest.“We… don’t usually get along.” Tiny croaked, his throat feeling tighter and more uncomfortable than normal as he tried to blink away the wetness from his uncovered eye. “But I appreciate him trying.”Her eyes flicked up to look at him and he hoped that he wasn’t as much of a mess as he felt. Her voice was soft when she said, “You must mean a great deal to your group. Many of them stayed beside you until I threatened them harm if they did not let me work. Though the man with the dark hair stayed by your side all night even after that. As did your hound.”Cat gave a grumble from somewhere below and Tiny shifted his hand to hang over the edge of the cot. A cold nose to his palm was the dog’s greeting and he couldn’t help but smile. “Hey boy. Yeah, you’re a good boy. Did I worry you?”He wasn’t sure why the dog was so attached to him. It wasn’t something Tiny really wanted to question however because Cat, at least, never yelled at him for stupid mistakes. Well… Cat would make little conversational grumbles and barks sometimes but that was different and always made Tiny feel better. Cat grumbled now like he was chastising as much as Alistair but Tiny could hear the familiar stumpy tail wags as it thumped on the ground. “Sorry boy,” he said softly with a weak smile. “I know you’ve lost people too.”A wet snort on his palm was all Cat’s answer before the dog lay back down.“Well, shall we see how it healed?” The elf asked, leaning into view and he looked away when he realized that her robes seemed to show a little more than was appropriate at his angle.He tried to keep his tone light as he joked, “Sure. Though I think you may need to do the seeing. I seem to have something on my face.”She gave only a small laugh before the darkness was lifted away from his eye as she peeled the cloth up with a rather disturbing slick sound. She used another cloth to wipe away some of the leftover slime as she touched near a spot that was definitely sore.
“It’ll scar,” She said after examining it, “but I got it to close. Ir abelas but it was rather deep. Your eye should be fine though. You can open it if you like.”That felt easier said than done and he tried to open it before she said, “Here, let me rinse it again. Sometimes the serum gets sticky.”As she dabbed the cloth at his eye he asked, “I, uh, seem to have missed your name…”“It’s Lanaya. I’m the keeper’s first. What you might call an apprentice. You were, hm, a little delirious in our first meeting.
...the others call you Tiny? Is that your name or…?”“Yeah.” He cracked open his eye and was pleased to find that it did indeed still work as he continued, “I don’t remember my real name. And Tiny fits.”“Your leader mentioned that you lost your memory...” she prompted, lifting the bandage on his chest.“I fell. Not sure from where but I fell into a bunch of darkspawn and Alistair--” he paused, blinking rapidly to try and stop himself from crying again as he thought of Duncan-- “and his mentor. Our mentor. They saved me and let me join the wardens.”Her fingers touched near his waist where he’d gotten bit by the werewolf and he let off a very unflattering grunt as he tried to stay still. There must have been another slimy cloth there because she was lifting it. This one she didn’t remove and it returned to sit like another slug on his waist as she sighed. “Keeper Zathrian may need to assist with this. The wound is more resistant to my magic. I will have to ask him when he finishes helping to heal your friend.”“Someone else was hurt?” Tiny asked, thinking for a moment to get up and check on them before he remembered that moving wasn’t an option in his state.“You had a human woman with an injured arm and another elf in your group-- though your people said that you were the one to treat them earlier. As thanks for saving our hunters we agreed to assist in speeding their recovery.”Tiny relaxed, now that he knew that no one else had been injured and she was just talking about Zevran and Marian. “Ah. I guess my skills as a healer would be outclassed by someone who can do actual magic.”“The stitches were quite skilled. You’ve got a steady hand that even our best craft-folk would find admirable,” she said resting her arms on the cot with a tired smile. “And Keeper Zathrian and I were most curious about the elfroot mixture used near the wounds.”“Oh… I’ve not quite gotten it right,” Tiny said as heat crept into his ears. “I found some recipes in an old warden journal but some of the words are blurry and we haven’t been near a town in a few days so I’ve been having to guess at or leave out ingredients Which doesn’t always turn out well. Uhm, I’d be happy to swap recipes though.”She gave a sleepy hum and tucked her head into her arms. “I’m going to rest until the keeper is free. You should as well. We will talk more then.”“Ah. Alright. Night.” He looked away feeling stupid and like he wanted to babble a better ode to sleep even though she looked like she was already asleep.Instead of sleeping himself, he rubbed his thumb over the soft leather of the journal and stared up at the leaves. With the white sky behind them it looked like
the stars had grown fat and someone had replaced the black of the night sky with a violent green. It felt… strange to be near so many people. The only memories he had of being near people was Ostagar and the less than pleasant day spent in Lothering. Each place he visited was unique in how they sounded and felt and the dalish camp was no different. It was decidedly more peaceful here. People were busy going about living instead of preparing to flee or fight. Yet all areas did share a similar trait. Beneath it all he could hear a tension in how people moved. The worried whispers instead of laughter. The only difference was that now those whispers mixed with the soft birdsong of the forest.It didn’t help that the dream he'd had also seemed to linger heavy on him like an itchy blanket. He only barely remembered trudging through the woods before Cat gave a warning whine. He’d crouched down, squinting to try and find what had made Cat upset and really hoping it wasn’t darkspawn. Instead, he saw the hunters. In the dark, they’d been crouched over something and talking softly among themselves.
Then he’d seen the hulking form of the werewolf. Its eyes caught the moonlight enough for Tiny to realize that it was hunting them. He’d shouted a warning and tackled it without thinking. Stars, it had been so stupid . The beast had been surprised enough that it bit him. He’d gotten clawed across the face as it struggled. Yet it didn’t seem as if it wanted to kill him. In fact after it got loose it backed away and he could swear that it looked ashamed .
He wasn’t really sure if werewolves were supposed to be smart or not but it had looked genuinely surprised at what happened and even like it regretted what was done. Then again Cat seemed quite smart so why not have other smart canines? It made sense. Maybe.If nothing else about the previous night, he almost astutely remembered going into shock. It was the first time he’d been hurt since Ostagar and he’d slowly sank to his knees as his body sent one too many alarm signals to his brain. As the beast backed into the shadows and disappeared, Tiny had registered first the wetness and then the pain. The memory blurred but he vaguely remembered people talking to him as he babbled an attempt at explaining who he was. He must have fallen unconscious because after that, all he remembered was sitting very calmly in the flaming ruins of a camp. There were dead and dying everywhere. Screaming. Sobbing. But the fires both were and were not there.Most present in all of this was a massive white wolf. It stared dispassionately out over the unstable and fluctuating land. Slowly more wolves had appeared. Watching from tree and bush until that great wolf had turned and Tiny could have sworn that the beast was staring at him and him alone.The memory of the dream lingered with him for the rest of the day as well as the next. He sat, swishing the water of the little pond with his feet as he thought about it. The halla he’d made friends with grazed nearby-- ears flicking to ward away bugs.“I have never seen a halla before,” a voice said from over his shoulder and Tiny tilted his head to look and see Zevran lingering nearby.Tiny moved his journal from beside him and patted the empty space in invitation. “Pretty, aren’t they?”“They are handsome creatures indeed but so are you.” Zevran stayed standing looking for all the world like a weary cat as he leaned casually against the makeshift fence that offered the halla some protection. “...you know, none of the others in your charming little group will speak to me.”Picking up the small leather-bound piece of charcoal that had come with his journal, Tiny toyed with it as he spoke, “They probably need time. They warmed up to Sten. Well… much as anyone can, I suppose. Did you decide to stay then?”“I do owe you my life.” Zevran said, looking away. His voice was casual but there was a tightness around his eyes that Tiny couldn’t help but notice as he stared up at him.Tiny took a slow, deep breath and tried not to think of how much such a simple action as breathing hurt. Behind the dried bandages the still healing bits on his chest and waist made loud complaints to his nerves with every small movement. Such a simple thing as a deep breath painfully reminded him that he probably shouldn’t keep being the person rescuing others. Not when he kept needing to be rescued himself. Still, he was glad to have given the assassin a chance-- not that he felt Zevran owed him anything.Staring down at the water, Tiny gave it a gentle kick. It rippled away and he wondered if he’d ever seen something so lovely before he’d lost his memories. Had he been the type to enjoy simply looking for the beauty in the world or did he just take its presence for advantage? Had he been a traveling healer before all this? Morrigan said she suspected magic for his lost memories so had he angered someone and been cursed like some tragic fairytale victim? …Ironically he couldn’t recall any fairy tales with such victims-- or any fairy tales at all-- but the thought still came up.He swallowed down the feelings that cropped up with the questions as he instead changed the subject,
“How’s your shoulder feeling?”“I am a Crow. Pain holds little--” Tiny looked up at him and Zevran cut himself short, looking away again as he answered with an almost confused sounding honesty, “It’s better.”“Good. I’m glad.” He couldn’t help but grin-- at least on the side that wasn’t still slicked with a bandage-- and he looked back down at the water to hide his crooked smile. He didn’t know why he could stare the assassin into telling him the truth but Zevran seemed to almost be unnerved by him at times. It was kind of cute-- though Tiny wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn such a reaction. He tried to keep the smile out of his voice as he asked, “Did you want to come with us tomorrow? I think Alistair made an agreement to help look for something in the forest.”“I get a choice? How novel.”Zevran finally moved, he settled nearby but not quite close enough to touch and his feet were tucked up as he stared down at the water. Tiny shrugged, setting aside the charcoal drawing tool as he spoke, “Life doesn’t always give choices but I’ll try to make sure you have them. Long as I can anyhow.”“Hm. You are as unusual as your hair. ... Do you plan on going into the forest? Are you healed enough to do so?”“Should be. I’m still a little sore but yes, I’ll be going.”
“Then I will join you. I do, after all, owe you--”“You don’t though,” Tiny cut him off as he leaned back on his hands and flashed him a purposeful grin even though the position felt like it was lighting his torso on fire. “Or we could call it even since I’m pretty sure you could have killed me at any point even while injured. I’m glad you didn’t though.”“I am curious. You are not quite like the other wardens in the party. Why did you become one? You do not strike me as a fighter.” Zevran stated, unlacing a boot and lowering one careful foot into the water. He grimaced and retracted the foot almost as fast. “Also, may I point out, this water is freezing and not at all refreshing.”Tiny chuckled as he leaned back to bring his feet out of the water. They actually felt warmer when the wind hit them. Still, he dipped them back into the water as he said, “I know. I wanted a wash but I’m supposed to keep the bandages on for another day so I settled with clean feet. Course I can’t remember just sticking my feet in water-- I even felt a little scared just looking at the water, so I decided to sit and make myself tough it out. Got used to the cold after a while.”“Only in Ferelden will I find a handsome elf who has never washed his feet. I still do not understand how you or the dalish could possibly walk around barefoot all the time.”“I… didn’t say I’ve never washed my feet.” Tiny resumed kicking the water gently. “I just don’t remember ever doing it before.”Zevran’s head tilted. Likely he was going to ask so Tiny explained, “You asked what made me become a Warden. Short story is that Alistair and a man named Duncan rescued me from some darkspawn just after I hit my head. I don’t have any memory of anything else so--” Tiny shrugged-- “here I am. I know I’m only good at getting the shit kicked out of me but I’m here anyhow and I will keep trying to help.”“Even if you will die?”“Mhm.”“And if you by some chance live through the blight? Will you stay with the wardens?” Zevran asked, slowly lowering his foot into the water. Though he grimaced, his foot stayed this time.“Well the joining makes being a Warden kinda permanent but I guess if I had the choice I’d like to wander. Maybe see if I can learn about new medicines from other places or maybe even find something to help cure the blight for good.”“Not try to get your memories back? Hm,” Zevran asked before shaking his head with a chuckle. “And what an ambitious noble goal. What makes you think you’d be able to cure the blight?”“I don’t.” Tiny said with a shrug. “But there isn’t any sense in not trying. Sometimes it takes someone walking a thousand miles for someone to follow in their footsteps and reach the goal. I just have to hope that I make enough progress that whoever follows after me can succeed. … you know, the Wardens have a code that Duncan told me about before he died.” Tiny picked one of the small weeds from beside him, toying with it between his fingers as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “In peace, Vigilance. In war, Victory. In death, Sacrifice. ...If I don’t die during this blight then my vigilance will hopefully help people in the future. Maybe. Seems a bit silly when said out loud but it would be nice if we found a way to make sure this was definitely the last blight.”“Hm.”“Hey, Zevran?”Zevran tilted his head, brown eyes locking on Tiny. “Yes?”“Are you okay with sleeping in the same tent as me and Daveth or did you want your own? I can sleep against Cat for a while if you’re fine with sharing but the Dalish said it was going to rain tonight and I wanted to figure out where I was gonna stay.”“Oh, I don’t mind. In fact, we could even share bedrolls if you desired.”
Zevran’s grin crooked wickedly as Tiny looked away. “Think, uhm, I’ll have to pass on that. Another time maybe.”Zevran gave an exaggerated pout. “Suit yourself. Though the offer is there. I am, of course, quite skilled.”“In sleeping?” Tiny teased, his own smile growing after his initial embarrassment passed from the other elf’s flirtations.Zevran laughed and this time it sounded genuine. Tiny couldn’t help but stare, his eyes drinking in the little details as Zevran’s usual mask seemed to slip. Zevran’s eyes almost squeezed closed with the force of his laugh and there was a small dimple just below the tattoo on his cheek. The loose strand of his fair golden hair that always seemed to escape-- or perhaps was artfully separated from-- the braids that kept it all in check was blown over his nose as he laughed. Though there were a few little scars visible on his tan skin along his neck Zevran had the most lovely clear skin. It was no wonder that the ex-assassin was so confident and flirtatious because he was truly stunning to look at sometimes.Tiny forced his gaze back to the water where the wobbling reflection of his own pale face stared at him. He was not handsome. His face was too round-- too soft and young looking despite the now truly unruly beard. His skin, while not as bad as it had been, still seemed to retain a hint of the grey tint it had taken even after the joining and now there was a jutting scar across his visage even if there was currently a bandage keeping it from view.Tiny grinned and pulled his feet up with a sigh. “Okay. I’d better go and see if I can help Morrigan make dinner since I missed my day when I was injured. Thanks for talking, Zev.”Getting up was a struggle with his side and to his surprise, Zevran stood and offered him a hand. Tiny took it and let himself be pulled to his feet as he tried-- very hard-- not to think about how warm the other elf felt. In fact, compared to his own naturally cold hands and feet, Zevran was a walking furnace. A walking furnace with surprisingly soft hands despite the little calluses that he could feel on Zevran’s fingers.
“Thanks. Oh…” Just behind Zevran was one of the halla and instead of releasing his hand Tiny gripped Zevran’s hand tighter. “Just a warning, she’s probably gonna snot on you. Don’t move though.”“What--?” Zevran’s face scrunched and he stiffened like he expected a knife just as the halla pressed her velvety nose to his bare calf. She did indeed snort on the back of his leg but only after licking some of the water that must have been there and Zevran looked somewhere between truly horrified and nearing a panic attack.Tiny chuckled as he pulled one of the treats from his pocket that the halla minder had given him earlier. He pressed it into Zevran’s hand as he said, “Here. Keep it in your palm and your hand flat enough that your fingers point downwards-- yep, like that.”Standing like the world’s most uncomfortable statue, Zevran kept his hand flat as the halla nibbled up the little grain ball. Tiny scratched soft circles in the cream colored fur as he said, “The halla keeper said this one was named Vhenan. It means heart.”“I…” Zevran’s golden eyes looked at Tiny for a moment, his face unreadable before he cleared his throat and said, “It’s lovely to meet you, Vhenan.”Tiny had to look away as he felt another smile threaten. The smile faded however as he wondered who he had been. His vague knowledge of elvhen language had surprised both him and the keeper earlier. Yet, like how to care for wounds, he wasn’t sure where he’d learned it.Vhenan leaned into the little scratches and her big eyes made a slow happy blink as Tiny used his free hand to point at a couple others in the herd as a distraction to himself. “That one there is her mate. I didn’t learn his name. The little one right there is Assan which means Arrow. And that one is Adahl. It means tree-- which seems fitting because I don’t think he’s moved since this morning.”Zevran was starting to noticeably relax and he reached a hesitant hand to rub Vhenan’s nose as she looked for more treats. His voice was very soft as he admitted, “...My mother was dalish. When I was very young, she used to tell a story about how halla were the guides to the afterlife.”“Well, they certainly seem wise enough.” Tiny agreed with a hum. After he’d gathered his journal he passed the last couple of treats from his pocket over to Zevran as he said, “Here. I need to go help with dinner. ...She likes the little spot just behind her cheek to be scratched. Try there.”A small wistful smile began to show on Zevran’s face as the ex-assassin offered out another treat and set to scratching the spot mentioned. Pleased that Zevran was doing alright with the halla, Tiny trudged away as his pervasively gloomy mood began to return. On top of his many worries, he was beginning to be afraid of how the group might feel if he began to show signs of this curse. It had only been that morning that he’d overheard Keeper Zathrian warning Alistair about what signs to watch for-- and Alistair’s solemn promise to kill Tiny should he see those signs.Would Zevran be as friendly if he knew that Tiny already dreamt of the wolves? That he’d been hiding the cramping on his injured side? That he’d lied and actually been sticking his feet in the water in an attempt to keep himself as chilled as possible to hide the fever-like symptoms? What would gentle Lanaya think if she knew that he’d begun secretly mixing different potions with his leftover supplies-- trying everything he’d learned and more-- in an attempt to stave off what was likely inevitable?
That night, he had the dream again and woke sweating and with the muscles in his side cramping from shoulder to toe worse than ever before. He bit the blanket to try and stay quiet hoping that the muscles would relax soon and he wouldn’t risk waking Daveth. At least new warden nightmares were common enough for them both that perhaps Daveth would think it that and not roll over.He just had to remember to keep breathing.It would pass soon.It had to.“Warden?... Tiny?”
Zevran’s voice was soft enough that Tiny was fairly sure no one outside the tent could hear it over the rain.
Spitting out the blanket, Tiny tried to answer. His voice refused to carry his lie though as
his attempt to speak came out as a strangled gasp. Zevran must have moved because Tiny could feel the heat of him as he squatted near Tiny. Tiny wondered what the ex-assassin must see to make him ask, “Shall I fetch a healer then?”“No!” He hissed through clenched teeth, knowing already from the small amount of time he’d spent helping in the healer’s tent what his fate would be if his condition was discovered.“Tiny?” Daveth asked before snarling, “Get away from him, assassin!”“It’s just a cramp,” Tiny sobbed, twisting the blanket in his hands as he turned his face to the floor and tried to keep breathing evenly. His voice echoed brokenly up from the ground as he gasped, “I’m fine. I’m fine-- I’m alright. Please, just go back to sleep.”“A cramp may be something I can assist with,” Zervan hummed before grumping, “assuming your dear friend does not stab me first.”Somehow the cramp seemed to tighten and he felt like things were being crushed and twisted on his injured side. Gasping through tears, he reached up for his bag mixtures that he’d been experimenting with. “The potion. Grey jar.”Daveth and Zevran both reached for it but it was Daveth who got it. He jerked the stopper away and passed it over. Getting himself to hold it, drink only a small sip, and hand the damn vial back-- Tiny wasn’t sure how he managed through the blinding pain. The fuzzy feeling that the potion caused began to tingle through his throat. It fizzled on his tongue as he lay there and the pain was pushed away to hide behind a cloud of tingles that only felt mildly better. As he lay there, Zevran’s warm hands started kneading into his leg. It was agony but as he worked, the coiled-too-tightly muscles finally began to relax.When he finished, Tiny was able to get up. Already Daveth sat up, his eyes locked on the little candle one of them must have lit.“You have the worst luck,” he muttered, having already figured it out.Tiny stared down at his hands, unwilling to look at his friend. “I know.”“You bastard,” Daveth muttered as he covered his face with a shaking hand.“I wont…” Tiny paused and swallowed hard as he looked pleadingly at Daveth. “I won't change. For another week. Two, maybe. If the potions work. Just… give me that long.”
“You stupid--” Daveth dropped his hand down, his voice an incredulous whisper as he stared at Tiny, “You think I’d tell Alistair? That I’d kill you?”As a Warden, Daveth had a job to protect people. To stop the blight. They were both looking to Alistair for guidance so… it only made sense that Daveth should either tell Alistair or kill Tiny himself. Tiny glanced at the silent but definitely watching Zevran. He might not trust the assassin-- not fully-- but he also didn't distrust him like the others did. The assassin claimed to owe him his life but protecting a werewolf? That was folly.

To his surprise, Daveth dragged him into a rough hug that was none to gentle on his wounds. “Idiot. We’ll find a cure.”“Ow.”“Don’t ow me you little bastard, it’s your fault for jumping in front of a werewolf. ...And you , are you gonna tell?”He must have been speaking to Zevran but from where Tiny’s face was mashed against Daveth, he couldn’t tell until Zevran answered, “I owe the warden my life-- though he claims we are even, I disagree. Since he is the one who spared me-- I will stay with him to whatever grizzly end I’m sure we’ll all face. Look on the bright side though, at least it is not being ripped limb from limb by darkspawn, no?”Tiny pushed away from Daveth, rubbing at the ear that had been crushed against his partner as he forced a smile and said, “I think Alistair is going into the forest tomorrow to search for a cure as a favor to the clan. If we’re lucky we still have plenty of chances to be torn limb from limb.”“Ah, such blinding optimism.” Zevran said, scooting down his bedroll.“Uhm.” Zevran and Daveth both paused where they were, looking at Tiny and he had to swallow hard to continue. “It-- the cramping-- it gets worse when I’m cold.”Normally it wasn’t an issue because he slept near Cat who was a tiny furnace on his own but with Zevran in the tent space was hard enough to manage without adding a large war hound to the mix. That and Cat had eaten something that gave him the most amazingly rank farts and he was currently banished to sleeping beneath the covered shelter of Bodahn’s cart at the edge of their camp. Likely Cat was warmer and drier there since the cart had enchantments to protect it from the storm.As if the storm wished to prove how miserable and cold it was inside their cheap tent, a small gust of wind snaked through the bound cracks of the tent flap and Tiny could feel himself start to shiver. If the shiver was from chill or just residual shakes from the muscles that still felt like they wanted to re-cramp, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure of was that through the medicine induced haze he’d actually liked that hug and just wanted to curl against someone for a little while.“Scoot over.”Tiny glanced up at Daveth who was crawling towards him as he pulled his bedroll. Nearby, Zevran was also shifting his own bed and it wasn’t long before they were lumped together in a warm pile and his nose pressed against Daveth’s back.“How is your damned nose so cold?” Daveth grumbled.“All of Ferelden is cold,” groused Zevran from where he was curled against Tiny’s back, “And yet you think his nose is cold? Pah. ...Though it is alarmingly like cuddling an icicle.”Tiny pulled his blanket over his head as he tried to hold back a laugh as he said, “You don’t have to--”The tent shook with another forceful gust, cutting him off as the others curled against him tighter and he realized that perhaps they had been cold as well. Though he thought it would take longer to fall asleep, it didn’t take long at all. He woke at some point later to realize that he’d scooted down and was now curled on his injured side as Daveth hugged his waist tightly and his own face pressed against the ex-assassin’s ribs. Zevran didn’t seem to snore though so he wasn’t sure if the assassin was asleep or just laying there rigidly for his benefit. With a mumbled apology-- he was pretty sure he’d drooled -- he rolled back over, curling against Daveth as he fell back asleep. When he woke again with the first of the early morning light, both Zevran and Daveth were already up and out of the tent.He stretched slowly, careful of the bandage on his side even though it was supposed to come off that day. The morning sky was cheery and blue beyond the canopy and Tiny took time to stretch again as he yawned. He wasn’t a morning person-- more so when it usually involved training-- but he liked the way mornings felt. Besides the whole waking up part.
It was the smell of morning that he liked the most, really. You could still smell the night in the air but with the sun out. Now that scent mixed with the rain and it would have been perfect if he didn’t feel queasy and feverish. It reminded him in an alarming way of how he’d felt with the taint only a few weeks ago but he could just try to claim the sore throat and cough had finally evolved into him being sick.Near the center aravel, Lanaya raised her hand and gave a small wave. Tiny waved back as he headed over. Keeper Zathrian gave him a sage nod as he approached but then headed off to tend some of the injured hunters. To his surprise Tiny saw some new people in the cots while others who’d been were now missing.Lanaya gave him a tired smile. “ Aneth ara , Tiny. How are you feeling?”“Better. Was there an attack?”She nodded, leaning into her staff with a sigh. “Yes. Keeper Zathrain wished to extend his gratitude for the pain relieving potion by the way. I believe it made Junlen’s passing easier.”Tiny frowned, tugging at the tip of his ratty looking braid. When he’d been helping Lanaya in the healer’s tent and learning about the symptoms, she’d been using poor Junlen as an example-- but according to what she’d said with Junlen’s symptoms he’d had at least another week to go before the change hit. He was also one of the few people that Tiny had secretly tried the newest mixture on to try and slow the change.
Had he made it worse? Was his potions and non-magical attempts only making things worse for both himself and those he was trying to help? The fear made his stomach start to hurt as he said, “But his fever broke. I though you said he’d have about a week before the change…”“Sometimes…” Lanaya shook her head. “Sometimes it comes quicker for some people. Gecen changed last night without warning and Keeper Zathrian did not wish to endanger the others since Junlen already showed symptoms.”Then the potion could have been working. The week or even more that Junlen should have had was cut short. Tiny’s eyes roved over the new people in cots as he asked, “That’s Neya and Isell...right? Did Gecen…?”“Yes. They were on watch last night. Isell thinks her brother was trying to say goodbye but the change… he would hate knowing he hurt her.” Lanaya said as she rubbed a hand slowly over her face. She looked even more worn than usual as she forced a smile and changed the topic, “Let’s go down to the river and wash. You can take your bandage off there and not to be rude, you really need it.”Tiny forced a smile as he fell in step behind her. Any jokes about his smell seemed to be drowned out by the massive freak out his mind was doing over the possibility of someone realizing that he’d gotten the curse. He still didn’t know all the symptoms. There were ugly fears that buzzed in his head like. Did the curse darken the wound like the taint? If she took the bandage away would she see it? With his side still recovering he wasn’t sure he could outrun them if they decided to kill him. Nor did he want to fight back against them when all they were doing was trying to protect their people.At a little inlet section of the river, Lanaya handed him a small hand-pressed bar of soap that smelled far better than the rather harsh ones they’d picked up in Lothering. Tiny sniffed it and tried to keep the conversation light, “What’s this made with?”Lanaya stripped down and slid into the water as she answered. “Some elfroot. Lye. Nut oil. Alas flowers. I know Yeron likes to mix in a bunch of different things. If you ask, he might give you the recipe. Or maybe just a few bars of your own.”Tiny set the soap down on a rock before stripping down himself as he said, “I’d like that-- if it’s no trouble. The soap we got from Lothering is a little harsh.”“Oh. It that why your skin was peeling on your ribs? Lemlan got that when he tried a shemlen soap.”Lifting his arm, he looked at the patch on his side. Most of it was covered by the bandage but he could see some of the rough and peeling skin as he blushed. “Uh. Yeah. Good to know I’m not the only one.”Lanaya dunked under the water rinsing out her hair. “Mhm. You coming in?”Tiny stared at the water and braced himself. The last few baths that he’d had were kind of miserable and though he wanted to be clean he was not looking forward to freezing himself again. When he finally did slip into the water he was surprised to find that it was actually warm.His surprise must have shown on his face because Lanaya laughed as she said, “I used a heating rune that I traded for from your friend, the merchant dwarf. Now come here so I can help you with your bandage.”“Uhm…”
Lanaya’s smile faded. “Something wrong?”“I just want to make sure that we’re on the same page. You invited me here to just bathe and get the bandage off, right? I mean you- you’re lovely a-and nice but I…” Tiny cleared his throat, feeling very much like he wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground. “I’m not, uhm, sure what customs-- er, I don’t want to accidentally overstep somewhere or--”She cut off his babbling with a hand on his shoulder. “ Tel’enfenim , Tiny. I know I joked of marriage earlier-- but I did invite you here simply to bathe. Please be at ease.”He nodded, some of the panic dissipating from his twisting and already queasy gut as he turned his injured side to her. She started to very gently pull it off in the water as he babbled, “Right. Yeah. Sorry. I just started to worry that I had missed something. I tend to do that. With people. I think.”“What’s it like,” she asked in a soft voice as she examined the now magically closed and mostly healed wounds, “Not remembering?”Tiny looked away, very aware that between the warm water and just awkwardness of his body, that parts of his anatomy weren’t cooperating with his mind. He focused his gaze on the hole in the trees above them where he could see small birds fluttering around in the upper canopy. “It’s like… if someone whispered something to you when you’re half asleep. You can’t remember the words but you know something was there. I’m trying to make the best of it but sometimes… it’s hard. Like, I can see a sunrise and think of how beautiful it is but then I wonder if I ever stopped to look at sunrises before this. …Then I also wonder if I watched a sunrise with someone else. If I had family. If they’re okay. It just… it all gets jumbled in my head a lot and I always have this feeling like I’m standing someplace with all sides being nothing but empty cliffs and no bridges.” His voice dropped to a whisper “…I don’t know how I got there though so it’s scary and lonely.”Her hands slipped away as she set the old bandage on the side of the river. Her expression was guilty as she pulled over the bar of soap. As she lathered it into the ends of her hair she said, “That sounds both beautiful and terrible. I-- I envied you when they said you had no memories. However, I think forgetting my clan and all I’ve learned would be too much.”Tiny worked at undoing his braid. It was a tangled mess and in the past couple weeks he hadn’t done more than finger comb it since he didn’t have a real brush. As he worked at the tangles he said, “I think everyone has things they want to forget but… would you be the same person? I keep wondering if I’m a better person for having forgotten or worse? Am I reckless because I don’t have attachments or things to hold me back?”“Even injured you have been helping around the camp,” Lanaya said as she passed over the soap, “so… I would like to think it made you a better person. Even if you are only part elf.”Tiny paused. No one in the group who knew him from before the joining brought up him having been human at one point. Not for a while anyhow and definitely not here in camp. Had Alistair been talking about him? Was he ashamed?“Do you think maybe you’re half dwarf? I’ve only seen one elf with shemlin blood but they still did not grow hair like you.”He was pretty sure his brain was flatlining and he gripped the soap like a lifeline as he said, “Sorry, what?”“Your beard.” She said, reaching over and rubbing a knuckle over it. “And the hair on your chest. Haven’t you ever thought about it? And sorry, by the way. I had to shave that side for the bandage to stay. I’ve never shaved someone’s face or chest before.”Elves don’t grow beards? Or have body hair? Of course… the only other elves he’d run into were in Ostagar and the few refugees in Lothering... and Zevran hadn't been with them long but he could have chalked the assassin’s tan, oiled, and very soft skin to good skincare. The confusion and questions mixed with the mild horror that he was walking around with half a shaved face and hadn’t realized-- though it thankfully was hidden behind the bandage. To be honest he’d never thought about shaving before this either. He must have done it before he lost his memories, right?
“Tiny? Are you alright?”“I… never realized,” he managed to finally choke out. “I guess I never-- people usually just ask why my hair is green so I never thought…”Lanaya hummed. “I just assumed one of your potions changed your hair color but now that you mention it…”“Can potions do that?”Her hands paused their gentle combing through her hair as she seemed to think it over. “I think at the last arlathvhen there was a hahren from another clan who had odd hair-- I didn’t ask but I think I heard someone say he’d been messing with lyrium. To be honest I don’t often mix potions or experiment from the ones that our clan have always used. I think you’re very brave-- trying new mixtures like that.”“It’s, uhm--” Tiny dipped his head back in the water before trying mimic how she’d used the soap on her own hair-- “We just didn't have a lot of potions after Ostagar and we couldn’t afford to keep buying Bodahn’s stock-- though he gives us a discount-- but there are some notes in an old warden journal I have. I don’t know if I’ve ever made a potion before I lost my memory but it’s kind of relaxing.” He gave a nervous laugh, “I just wish the book had a potion for colds.”After dipping her hair once more back into the water to give it a final rinse, Lanaya leaned on the edge of the bathing pool as she nodded. “If you ever find one I’m sure we’d be happy to trade for the recipe.”He forced another laugh and reminded his limbs to keep moving and scrubbing as he looked away from how her breasts peaked out of the water at him. “Definitely. This is nice soap by the way. I, uhm, like the way it smells.”Thankfully the conversation was starting to dither since Lanaya seemed like she might be falling asleep and they were both clean. Once they both dragged themselves from the warm water and Tiny was tightening the laces on his now slightly damp feeling pants he asked, “Are you heading to bed?”She nodded, pulling on her own robe after wringing out her hair and winding it in a loose plait. “Keeper Zathrian has been doing the healing during the day and I have been in charge at night. You go into the forest today, yes? To hunt Witherfang?” Hunt? Tiny paused, his shirt stuck on his damp arms. “Witherfang?”“The first werewolf. Keeper Zathrian thinks he might be able to save the other sick hunters if he can get the heart of Witherfang. ...I assumed you knew.”“Hah, yeah. I must have missed when Alistair told us.” That was not that case at all. Alistair had said they were going into the forest for a cure. Tiny finished pulling on his shirt and gave an awkward wave. “I’ll let you go get to sleep then. I should get ready to head out.”After she’d waived her own goodbye, he walked away, a heavy feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like the name ‘Witherfang’ belonged to the wolf from his dreams that would stare at him. Over the past few nights he’d felt like the wolf was trying to tell him something… but what? Why did the idea of killing the wolf bother him so much? As he thought it over, breakfast with the others was a quiet affair and even afterwards as they headed into the forest, Tiny lingered in the back of the group with Sten as the others joked and walked ahead.He stayed quiet until just after they’d killed a lone werewolf that had been eating a hare in the shadow of a large tree. “Alistair? Can I talk to you a moment?”With a nod and a raised brow, Alistair followed as Tiny walked a ways away from the group. When they were a safe enough distance, Tiny crossed an arm across his chest as he stared at the little ripples of the nearby river and gripped his staff like it was going to try and run. “What are we doing here?”Alistair sheathed his sword as he came to stand nearby. “The clan’s keeper refuses to have his hunters help or, well, doesn’t have anyone he can spare until the werewolf threat is dealt with, though he did say he would send runners to call other clans once it was safe. As you pointed out-- we need allies. So I offered to hunt some werewolves, specifically an old white one called Witherfang that he says the curse originated from.”To keep a hold on his temper and the unusual surge of anger that he felt broiling under his skin, Tiny took a deep breath through his nose. He was surprised that he was able to keep his tone even as he asked, “So we’re just going to run around murdering whatever we come across?”“Murder? They’re werewolves, Tiny. Mindless beasts.” No, they’re people, Tiny thought to himself as he clenched his hand around his arm hard enough that it felt like it was going to bruise. They’re me in a week and Gecen trying to say goodbye to his sister only to accidentally hurt her. They’re people who got changed and don’t want to hurt the people they love. They’re people we should be helping.Instead of saying everything running through his mind however, Tiny asked, “...do you remember when I first asked what Grey Wardens were?”Alistair gave a hesitant nod but stayed quiet.“I don’t have a lot of memories, Alistair, but I remember why I joined and it wasn’t just because I was dying. I wasn’t--” he hissed, shifting as he shook his head, “I was only a little afraid of dying but mostly I didn’t… I didn’t want to change and hurt someone. Then there was what Duncan said . Wardens are people who fight darkspawn and protect the land from the blight. Protect people .”“And we’re doing that with the treaties.” Alistair said, crossing his own arms. “And making allies so that we can win.”“Win.” Tiny only barely contained the snear the word elicited. “I suppose that is part of the creed isn’t it? In war, victory. But where does that victory say we slit a man’s throat when he’s begging for us to let him go?”“You’re still upset over that bandit? I thought--”“You thought wrong!” Tiny snapped, the last string of his fraying temper finally breaking as he slashed a hand through the air and snarled, “Look at Zevran! We gave him a chance and here he fights beside us only a couple days later! Sten murdered a family with children and you trust him to watch your back now! How many others could have had that chance? Better yet, how many Wardens have spotty pasts? We leave our past behind when we become Wardens so a past shouldn’t matter, right?!? We don’t know my past but what if I was just as bad? How many wardens could we have now if we didn’t slaughter the people we come across like worthless cattle? And now here we are murdering people in the forest just because they’ve been fucking cursed with something they never asked for! We do the same to the darkspawn never considering that we could try to save them!”For once Tiny wished he was wearing shoes so that he could simply kick something. As it was he tugged viciously at his braid as he turned away and continued. “The wardens gave me my life back! I was dying Alistair! Yes, I get it-- it’s kill or be killed sometimes but lately we’re no better than the darkspawn we’re supposed to be protecting people from! Who are we to walk around and dismiss life so easily?! What would you do if it was one of us who got the curse? Would you kill us just as easily as you just killed that werewolf who did nothing to us?!”“Yes. I would.” Alistair said, his voice soft as he looked away. “But I would hate it.”“You’d hate it? But you’d still do it? I--” Tiny cut himself off with a snarl before he huffed and spoke quieter-- “I don't know why I bother. I’d say it was a joke, you having so much goddamn honor or whatever it is-- cutting down friends like they’re nothing. Never looking for an alternative, but we were never friends so I guess it doesn’t matter. ...I’m leaving.”He turned to go, Cat on his heels, as Alistair said, “Tiny. Wait.”When Alistar’s hand closed over his shoulder he wasn’t sure what happened or why he lashed out the way he did but his fist smacked solidly into Alistair’s face. Tiny stood looking at the blood dripping from Alistair’s now freshly re-broken nose-- warring with himself-- wanting to apologize while also wanting to run. Instead, he lowered his clenched fist and muttered as he turned away, “Fuck off.”If Alistair was going to say anything, it was lost as Tiny passed the others and stormed away. Tiny never intended to leave like this-- in fact he’d hoped to slip away after his fever broke and he knew he was closer to changing, but at this point he didn’t care. He’d rather run across whatever lurked in this forest than follow someone who didn’t seem to have any fucking moral quandary with straight up slaughtering everything they came across. More so when Alistair had just admitted that he’d kill Tiny the moment he changed. Possibly before. He’d hoped that perhaps Alistair wouldn't-- that even if they didn’t get along that perhaps Alistair had meant it when he’d said that he didn’t want to lose him with the rest of the wardens.He walked, not even bothering to use his staff for more than moving branches, until he reached a small clearing. It was quiet. Peaceful, even. As Cat wandered over to piss on a nearby tree Tiny thought bittery, You’d never guess that not far from here were a roving band of lunatics who killed without mercy.As he flopped down, sitting atop an old tree trunk with his head in his hands, he chastised himself. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t even true of Alistair. True-- the group did seem to kill an alarming amount of people but it was usually in self defense. Not to mention that they did need to help the dalish in order to get them to help with the treaties in turn. Yet, that didn’t stop the sting of the realization that Alistair would cut him down like he was little more than the deer they’d killed for supper a few nights ago.Now that he was away from Alistair, the pique of abnormal rage was already fading. Feeling guilty, he buried his hands in his hair and gripped hard. He’d never meant to yell at or or hit Alistair-- and there was something ugly that lingered over him the more he thought about it, like he’d seen a glimpse of the person he could have been or might be becoming. The idea that he could be someone who lashed out in a rage made him feel ill and he was lost in that feeling up until Daveth settled beside him on the log.
Glancing up, Tiny also noticed that Zevran leaned on the tree nearby. Tiny released his hair, ignoring how he’d messed up the braid it had been in as he scrubbed at his eyes and said, “You should go back.”“We already said we’d find a cure, right?” Daveth said, bumping his shoulder against Tiny’s. “So we do it together. Partner.”Zevran toyed with a dagger, cutting at his nails as his eyes wearily roamed over the scenery. “And you did say that as long as you were around, you would give me a choice. Consider it my choice to remain with you. For now.”Tiny snorted. The irony twisting bitterly in his stomach. Or perhaps his stomach was just twisting in general. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the rough grain of stubble from his attempt at shaving that morning. Funny how he’d have more hair than he wanted soon if they couldn’t find a cure in time. Finding a cure was going to be more difficult though since he’d left most of his pack in Bodahn’s cart. As he thought over his options, he toyed with a little bud that had sprouted from a vine wrapped around the upturned tree. He recognized it from one of the sketches in the journal. It was good for infections if it was boiled. He’d had trouble finding them along the road but here in the forest he had found enough to fill an entire pouch already.“We’re here to help, Tiny.” Daveth said, nudging him again. “We’ll stay with you.”Perhaps it was his sour mood but Tiny couldn’t help but scoff as he said, “Help? I left because I didn’t want to die impaled on a friend’s blade.”“Oh, well I’d happily impale you in many different fashions if that was what you wished,” Zevran quipped back as he somehow made sheathing his dagger more than a little suggestive, “but I was hoping you’d have a better cure in mind than simply giving up.”“I don’t know where to start though. I’m not very good with potions and I’ve been trying…” Tiny knew he was whining but he couldn’t stop as he lamented, “And I’m not a mage! I don’t know how the curse started. I don’t even know the first thing about curses--”He stopped mid-sentence. Though he didn’t know anything about curses or magic, the person who’d written the journal had. He dug the old journal out and turned to the tattered page near the end. There was a bloodstain on these pages and where the pages had stuck together many of the words were too damaged to be readable but there-- on one of the pages near the end was a potion to slow the blight. Actually, he’d assumed it was to slow the blight. It actually didn’t specifically say blight. It said curse. Of course, that could that be schematics and phrasing but it was definitely a potion he hadn’t tried. Mainly because there was no need and the writing was difficult to decipher thanks to the stain.He chewed at his thumb, thinking over his options. It was risky to try out a new mixture hastily without being able to double check plant properties in the large book that Bodain kept in his cart. Yet over the last two days, he’d been taking risk after risk because, honestly, what did he have to lose? Though it was certainly a notable problem if he wasn’t able to check the ingredients, perhaps he could make due...

There was an additional problem however that the writer used shorthand in most of the last portion of the journal. He’d only figured out some of the shorthand meanings and that was with help from Bohdan, Morrigan, and Marian. Even Alistair had answered Tiny’s occasional questions. Without them he’d have to puzzle out everything on his own.
Did he even have the time to try?A drop of water hit the page and he looked up in alarm.The mostly clear sky they’d had that morning had begun to disappear and another drop smacked him on his cheek as he cursed and shoved the journal hastily into the protective wrap that Flemeth had given him and then into his small day-pack. He squinted at the surrounding trees as he whistled. When Cat bound up to him he asked, “Hey bud, think you can find some shelter that doesn’t have us returning to the camp?”Cat barked-- already muddy somehow-- and ran a short distance away where he waited for Tiny to follow. Tiny cast his companions a rueful grin. “You sure you want to come? Tonight’s promising to be miserable. You could still head back to the dalish camp.”Daveth just rolled his eyes, already heading for Cat. Zevran, flicked his hair over his shoulder, stepping out from his shelter beneath the tree as he said, “Comforts are a fine thing but I’ve made my choice.”Together they trotted after Cat. The mabari led them through the woods, pausing to sniff the air on occasion. It wasn’t too long before they stumbled, drenched and panting, into a cave. His fever had started to feel worse underneath the wet of the rain and there was an ache along his wounded side that promised a vicious cramp soon but he was glad just to be out of the torrent.
“Lovely, perhaps it’ll have bears,” Zevran huffed as he tried to wring out his hair. His tone was particularly vehement when he muttered, “Ferelden.”Tiny stood shivering inside the lip of the cave and hugging his staff to his chest as he answered waspishly, “D-did say you c-c-c-could leave.”Daveth-- his dark rudy curls now slicked down against his skull-- glared at the ex-assassin. “If you’re going to complain y--” he cut short-- “uh, is that a light?”Tiny turned and squinted. There was indeed a glow farther down the cave where Cat had run. “Cat?” He called.“Hello?” a voice called back.“Uhm… hi?” Tiny said, perhaps regretting letting Cat be the one to pick the location. “Sorry if we’re, uh, intruding. We were just trying to get out of the rain ...cause it’s raining.” Eloquently put there bud, Tiny thought as Daveth gave him a raised brow. Likely his good-humored partner thought the same.
From the dark of the cave, another elf emerged. They were dressed in an odd mix of dalish hunter gear and patched furs. Their grin was earnest as they looked past the group at the now pissing torrent of rain outside. “So it is. Well, I don’t get many visitors and that won't lighten up till morning, care to join me?”Though Daveth looked unsure, Tiny stepped forward with a nod. He was more than ready to get out of the rain and be warm-- to the point that he almost wished he was back with Alistair and the others. While meeting an unnaturally good natured and ‘trusting’ elf in a cave was probably signs of something sinister he was willing to chance it.As the elf led the way the group walked in tense silence. With every step the warm glow of a cheerfully crackling fire could be seen growing brighter but when another gust of wind shuddered through the cave-- making Tiny feel cold and clammy-- it took every ounce of restraint Tiny had to calmly follow behind instead of rushing over and tossing himself onto the warm looking flames.

Once they entered the larger chamber, the elf swept a hand out. “Welcome. Make yourselves at home.”For a cave, it was surprisingly homey. There were drying bundles of herbs, scattered notes, and no shortage of furs. After setting his walking stick against the wall Tiny, ignoring any pretense at manners, dropped his day-pack down and took the closest seat he could see beside the fire. After pulling the nearest fur over himself he stretched out his hands till they were nearly in the fire.“We might as well introduce ourselves since there is time. My name is Aneirin, and you are?” the elf said, lowering himself down slowly on the opposite side of the fire as Zevran and Daveth both took their own seats.Zevran answered, leaning back against the furs with a smirk. “I am Zevran. Zev to my friends and that mannerless lump--” his foot nudged Tiny-- “Shivering beside your cozy little fire is Tiny.”Daveth glanced up from where he was pulling off his wet layers. “Daveth.”Tiny grumbled as Cat came to lay down-- panting, wet, and happy-- beside him like he was just one more rug. “And that’s Cat.”“You’ve a dog named Cat?” Aneirin asked, picking up a carving knife and piece of wood from a work table set near the fire.“He named himself.” Tiny said, pushing some of his wet hair away from his face. “It’s actually Snarling-Bag-Of-Cats but everyone calls him Cat for short.”Aneirin’s brow arched slowly. “That’s… interesting. So, ah, what brings you to the forest? Were you two trying to join the Dalish nearby?”Zevran hummed, stretching out lazily like he was some bronze skinned cat. There were goosebumps on his obviously chilled and bare thighs but Zevran seemed determined to pretend he was fine as he gave a crooked smile and said, “Not quite. Though their hospitality has been lovely. Even if some of them are put out by our human companions.”Peeling off the last layer, Daveth shook it out with a snap as he said, “Maybe they’re hospitable to you but you aren’t being called shem every five seconds and glared at like you just ate their firstborn.”“I’m afraid this clan had less reason to trust humans than most,” Aneirin said with a slight nod of his head though he didn’t look up from his carvings. “Though that doesn’t answer why you’re here in the forest. Did you get lost hunting?”“We came to ask them for help,” Tiny said, trying to lean in a way that didn’t aggravate his angry feeling wounds as Daveth gave Tiny's soggy tunic a meaningful tug.
After rather briskly and forcefully removing Tiny's wet clothes and setting them with the others, Daveth flopped down behind him and scooted Tiny so that the elf was leaning back against him as he took over trying to explain, “We’re Wardens. In exchange for their assistance, the clan asked us to, uh, check something… in the forest… we, uh, ended up separating from our group.”Zevran huffed, tossing his own wet jerkin into the doorway where Daveth had left his soggiest clothes before simply crawling into the blanket and nearly into Tiny's lap. Not that Tiny minded really-- though for once it seemed he wasn’t the one with frozen limbs as Zevran’s cold arms wrapped around his waist. Zevran actually seemed as if he was shivering harder than Tiny up to and including a small occasional chatter of his teeth.Aneirin watched it all with a critical eye and a small smirk that didn’t fade even as they all fell to silence. The only sounds for a time were Cat’s snores, the crackle of the fire, and the scrape of Aneirin’s carving. Tiny was even beginning to drift off when Aneirin finally broke the silence, “So I take it you three are lovers?” What?
Tiny cracked open his eyes, the sleepy thoughts on potions and internal lists of what herbs he’d need to look for came to a screeching halt as his tired brain instead tried to figure out why such a question was asked. Daveth was the first to answer as he shrugged, “Tiny was partnered with me when we were just recruits--” though he didn’t bother to mention that was only a couple weeks ago-- “and he’s like my little brother.”Zevran hummed from where he was nested in the blankets, but his arm wrapped tighter and Tiny could hear the pout as he said, “Alas, no. Lovely as Tiny is, he seems to prefer to spurn my advances. Though he makes a wonderful bed warmer he has yet to allow me to show my gratitude. I suspect I am not his type.”“Drama-ho,” Tiny muttered as he wiggled in an attempt to get comfortable between the two. “For your information, blatant sexual advances after trying to kill me isn’t an advance.”Aneirin chuckled, holding his work up into the light for a moment before tossing it into the fire. He picked up another piece of wood from his pile and began anew as he said, “Ah. I had simply thought to ask. I was thinking perhaps you three had decided to run away together in a desperate attempt to escape the confines of your order. Makes for a good story.”“Does doesn’t it?” Daveth hummed, his eyes closing.
“If you don’t mind, perhaps I will use the inspiration to write it.”Daveth cracked open an eye, watching the elf as he asked, “So are you a writer then?”“Me? Maker, no. I simply dabble as a hobby.”“Hmm.”“Well, I suppose I should go start supper. I hope you don’t mind rabbit.” Aneirin said with a small flicker of a smile as he set his carving aside and stood. At the mention of food, Daveth perked up. “I have some vegetables in my pack that I was saving in case we ended up camping. Do you need any? Or any help?”Tiny chuckled. “Don’t let him help. He grazes when he’s chopping things and you’ll end up missing half your ingredients.”“I do not. I just… quality test,” Daveth said in his defense.“Uh-huh. Is that why you aren’t allowed near the stewpot till dinner?”Daveth huffed. “No. It’s because I said Morrigan’s hair looked nice and she tried to drown me in the soup. And I ate her serving of bread by accident.”It hadn’t been an accident. Tiny had watched Daveth sneak the bread from Morrigan’s bag the morning after she’d dunked him. The two seemed to almost enjoy pulling each other's proverbial tailfeathers and he leveled a disbelieving glare up at Daveth as best he could anyhow from where he sat against him. Daveth had the decent sense to shut up and look somewhere mollified.The quiet returned and for the second time that evening, Tiny was pulled from the cusp of sleep as Zevran huffed right against his ear. “I am bored.”“Then go entertain yourself,” Tiny muttered back as he turned his head, rubbing his ear on the fur to try and get rid of the sensation of Zevran breathing on it and the surge of something primal that the sensation had started in his core.
“I can think of several entertaining things for rainy evenings like this," Zevran purred scooting closer and letting his hips shift against Tiny’s.Tiny’s ears twitched. He had thought-- truly thought-- about sex perhaps only once in the last two weeks and so far it was not even slightly something he wanted to approach. There were too many things-- too much to worry about and that he still had questions over-- for him to really consider it. After all-- since as a new recruit his blood could be used in place of an archdemon’s in a joining to make a warden then was there a possibility that his other body fluids could do something as well. Not to mention that he was unsure if the werewolf curse could be transferred during sex. Was the curse strictly saliva-based? That would rule kissing and blow jobs out. Would he have to be fully transformed to pose a risk or did contracting it immediately make you a contamination risk?The thoughts and worries jumbled around in his head like ringing bells until Zevran sighed. “I know, Warden. I will behave.”Now that he was thinking about it and Zevran’s soft legs had rubbed against his though… Tiny scooted from Daveth and silently rolled onto his stomach. It took some shifting of his hips to try and both get comfortable and to make sure he could hide his erection as he pulled over his pack and pulled both his and the old warden’s journal out. He’d spent the past couple evenings writing careful notes in his new journal for what potions he’d been successful with.
Journaling had proven a good distraction in the past and would probably get his mind off sex. Opening the journal, his own writing from his first entry that he’d made just after Alistair gave him the journal stared back up at him.
~ I have no name that I can remember and the name that others remember me by is little more than a joke thanks to my short stature. My memory only spans only a day before I became a Grey Warden. I was rescued by Warden Alistair and Warden Commander Duncan in the forest and even now several weeks later, my memory remains blank.

I was at Ostagar when it fell. Our leader, Warden Alistair, thinks that Logain planned to take the throne. That his retreat was a betrayal since his daughter wasqueen and it offered him the opportunity to fully seize the throne. Perhaps Logain does intend to rule through her. Or, perhaps we were wrong and while we were upthere in the tower we missed something critical on the battlefield. All I know however,is that good people are dead and our halt of the darkspawn progress is broken. They advance now as we few surviving Wardens flee. The list of recruits who died remains at Ostagar and I fear their names may be forgotten but should we fall, my hope is that the names of my companions reach the records of the Weisshauptfortress that I have sadly only read about. Aside from myself and Alistair there aretwo other Wardens-- Warden Daveth and Warden Marian-- may their names beremembered no matter their fate.

We travel now in hopes to enact the treaties made centuries ago for allies. Alistair prays to the maker but… I do not know who to pray to-- yet pray I dothat we gather enough allies in time that no more innocents die. ~
Pulling out the stick of charcoal Tiny paged over to where his last notes left off and decided to add a more ‘personal’ update on his situation that wasn’t just recipe notes.
~ I have been bitten by a werewolf in our attempts to both help and enlist the dalish.The fever and muscle pains set upon me on the second dayand I am sure that within a week I will turn. Hoping to minimize bloodshedI have broken from the main group and plan to search for a cure. Not just for myself but for all those afflicted. My companions in thisendeavor are my mabari Cat, Warden Daveth, and an ex-assassin who is as charming as he is deadly. ~
He stared down at the words. It was likely no one would read this or if they did… well he would prefer that something useful was included. Chewing his lip, he also made a small notation on the bandage mixture that he’d learned from Lanaya. Still left with nothing to do besides linger in his own mind, he settled with drawing Cat. The action felt… familiar. Staring down at the drawing only made him feel miserable as he wondered who he had been. A man with teal hair who wrote well, drew, sang, had more medical knowledge than even some of the other wardens. He was, however, unfamiliar with most flora and could not set up tents. All of that and he was also likely to die before he ever remembered his name.

Zevran prided himself as a man who could not be easily terrified. In fact, as a Crow, terror was explicitly trained out of him.Yet here he was, terrified.They had remained at Aneirin's cave since the elf had offered it and they had no real supplies. Zevran had awoken in the dead of night to a soft growl above him and the feel of breath on his ear only to roll over and come face to face with an exceedingly large werewolf. At first he thought it was Tiny-- finally succumbed to the curse that he’d now fought for over a week as they searched for a cure-- until he noticed Tiny crouched nearby.The potion that Tiny had made a few days ago had stopped his own curse at half a transformation and the half lost to wolfishness was locked in a near snarl no matter how the warden felt. It was difficult to know his feelings now but as Tiny slowly circled the other wolf, Zevran was pretty sure that Tiny was just as terrified as himself.“Zev,” Daveth whispered, “can you reach your knife?”Zevran glanced to where his weapons were set. Normally he had at least one with him but after bathing that afternoon, he’d stretched out on the furs beside Tiny and rather unfortunately fallen asleep. Whether he could reach a knife or not-- he never found out as Tiny tackled the other wolf and together they rolled back down the tunnel in a frightening cacophony of snarls.“Vemaya! WAIT!” Aneirin shouted, awakening to drop down from his hammock in a mad scramble.There was a yelp as Cat put himself between a snarling Tiny and the werewolf-- standing in front of Tiny protectively with bared teeth and Aneirin called again, “Both of you please! Vemaya they are friends!”The werewolf’s eyes darted between Tiny and then Aneirin as its snarl ebbed away and their host nearly threw himself onto the werewolf. Zeveran fully expected the red-haired elf to die a rather grizzly death then and there but… no one moved.
Cat’s ears perked slowly and from beneath him, Tiny started to emerge. There was a nasty gash on his more werewolf-ed shoulder and the blood was already matting the fur but other than that he looked relatively unharmed as he said, “Aneirin?”Aneirin glanced back from where he was draped protectively over the werewolf. “Vemaya is my daughter. Please…”Tiny tilted his head like a bird observing its own reflection as he looked at the werewolf. “Is this why?”Finally a voicing of the question they’d all been curious about for days. Aneirin-- even after learning of Tiny’s condition-- had let them stay. He’d even begun helping look for the herbs that Tiny needed once Tiny explained that he was searching for a cure-- not just for himself but for all the werewolves of the forest.Aneirin buried his face in Vemaya’s fur. His voice was muffled and soft as he answered, “Yes. This is why. Though… I never thought a cure was possible. Before… I never had hope or expected her to be more than she is now.”It was a while before they were sitting around the fire and Aneirin stroked gently along Vemaya’s wolfish head as he explained, “She was bitten when she was five after wandering too far from camp. That was… perhaps six years ago. I told the Keeper that she was dead and they think I stay here because I was too grief stricken to fit in with the clan. Some of them think it is because I was not born dalish but the truth was that I could not bear to leave her. She was feral like the others at first but… more and more they have begun to change over the recent years. Some of them even speak and Vemaya visits often now.”Daveth carefully wiped around the wounds on Tiny’s shoulder, checking them over as he asked, “does Vemaya speak?”“No. Not to me at least. I’ve… had passing words with Swiftrunner though. From what I can tell, he is one of the pack’s leaders.”“Could we speak to Swiftrunner?” Tiny said, looking away from the fire that had held his attention since he’d sat down to let Daveth tend his wounds.“You could try. The only reason he doesn’t attack me is because of my magic and Vemaya puts herself between us. With all the wolves that have been killed recently though I’m unsure if Swiftrunner would listen.”Tiny blinked slowly, his one dark wolfish eye glittering from the firelight as he returned to scowling at the flames. While Zevran had no issue with murder or even the killing of these creatures, he knew that the killing that Alistair and the others had been doing over the past week had done nothing to further their cause. In fact, even quite a few of the trees were angry about it-- which was something Zevran would love to never experience again as long as he lived.“I think,” Tiny said slowly, “I need to talk to Witherfang. Tomorrow I will try to find Swiftrunner and see if he will take me.”Zevran shared a glance with Daveth. A few days before the change started to become visible, Tiny had told them of the dream. Of the white wolf that stared at him and the feeling like he was being called. If Tiny planned to go into the heart of where the werewolves lived… Zevran and Daveth knew they may not be able to follow.