Nolo, Nolle, Nolui : Chapter 46
Mar. 6th, 2011 04:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nithuThey had been walking for three days when they hit the first snow; fine, soft flakes that covered the ground in no time at all. By the time they stopped to set up camp, there was a covering of at least two inches, although it had stopped snowing. While Fearghal, Alistair and Zevran put the tents up, Wynne, Morrigan and Leliana got a fire going. Darkness fell quickly and no-one lingered by the fire once their evening meal was finished; all but Morrigan, who had first watch, retreated to their tents to bundle up in their blankets.
Alistair felt like he'd only been asleep for five minutes when he felt a gentle nudge at his foot. He lifted his head wearily to see Bane looking at him; with his tongue hanging out the great hound almost looked like he was grinning. Maybe he is; he gets to rest now. Alistair wriggled out from under his blankets and grabbed his armour, buckling it on. He stole a look at Fearghal; he was fast asleep, lying on his side, curled up under a mound of blankets. It struck him again, as it had in the mages' tower, how young Fearghal looked when he was asleep. He crawled out of the tent, tying the flaps.
Leliana was already shivering beside the fire. She looked up at Alistair and smiled as he emerged from the tent, then they did the first circuit of the camp. Walking kept them warm enough, but as soon as they stopped, they started shiver again. The fire was small and what wood they'd found had been damp; it wasn't burning well. Leliana ducked into her tent and reappeared with two blankets. Alistair took one gratefully and draped it over his shoulders.
"You have been very pensive today, Alistair. It is unlike you to have so little to say."
"Just nothing much to say, I guess," said Alistair, shrugging.
"Ah." Leliana smiled and turned her attention to the fire.
Since she had told him and Fearghal how she'd come to be in Ferelden, Alistair had come to know her better. She was less likely to talk of shoes and ribbons; instead, she told him of her childhood and he had told her about his. They had compared monastery life to rural chantry life; sometimes they spoke of deeper things. Best of all, if Alistair didn't feel like talking, or listening, they didn't talk at all.
He glanced at her, screwing up his courage; he cleared his throat. "Um... Leliana... "
"Yes, Alistair?"
"Er... if I asked you something, will you promise not to laugh or... um... tell anyone I asked?"
"It sounds like this will be a serious question, mon ami. Very well, you have my word." Leliana looked at him, waiting expectantly.
"It's just...Oh, Maker! This even sounds stupid in my head!" groaned Alistair. He glanced at Leliana, who waited patiently. "How do you know if you're in love with someone?"
Leliana stared at him. "You are asking because you think you are... ?"
"Yes," admitted Alistair, miserably. "And I have no idea what to do!"
"Does this person know how you feel about them?"
"No." Alistair sighed. "I'm not even sure myself how I feel, well, I sort of do, but not if it's... you know."
"So, are you asking me whether you are in love, or what to do about it?"
"Both, I suppose."
"Well, mon ami, I think that only you can know for sure if you love them," Leliana told him.
"Huh, most of the time I can't think straight. I don't know if I'm coming or going! I don't suppose it matters anyway. I-I know that they love someone else. I've made such a mess of things!"
"Oh, Alistair. I am sorry, I truly am." Leliana reached out a hand and patted Alistair's shoulder. "You are sure? That there is no hope?"
"Well, I'm sure that they love someone else, but the man he loved died... Maker! That sounds so awful, so callous." Alistair didn't notice his slip, or Leliana's eyes widen at it, so intently was he staring into the fire. "I hate to see him hurting, but at the same time... "
"It sounds as if you care for... this person a great deal, mon ami," said Leliana carefully. "But it is not completely hopeless, no? People do not grieve for ever."
"No, but when we met, well, let's just say we got off to a bad start. I may have given them... um... the impression that actually, they'd be the last person in Thedas I'd... you know." Alistair groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. He looked up at Leliana and grinned weakly. "When I make a mess of things, I don't do it by halves!"
"Do not despair, Alistair. It may be that when their grief lessens, you will have a chance. I'm sure you will have the opportunity to show this person how you feel. You will know the moment, when it comes. You must be brave and seize it."
Moments... Fearghal talked about his night with Zevran as a moment. I want more than a moment. Alistair stood up, shrugging off the blanket. "We'd better do another circuit. Thank you for listening, Leliana."
Leliana stood and patted his arm. "I am sorry I have no easy answers for you, mon ami."
~o~O~o~
Fearghal and Alistair followed the group down the broad path that twisted and curved down the side of the mountain. The way became less steep as they descended. Fearghal sneaked a glance at his companion; Alistair seemed tired and had been unusually quiet all morning. Fearghal was a little startled to realise how much this unsettled him; he had come to depend on Alistair's cheer to lift his own spirits. He was a little at a loss how to deal it. He slowed his pace a little; at his side, Alistair slowed too, seemingly without notice.
Fearghal waited until the others had pulled ahead a little, then stopped.
"Is something wrong, Alistair?"
"What? No." Alistair looked surprised at the question. "I didn't get back to sleep properly after my watch, that's all."
"Are you sure that's all? You're not worrying about Eamon?"
"No, really. I'm just a bit tired," Alistair assured him.
A shout took Fearghal's attention away from Alistair. The others had reached a bend in the path, a broad curve where it turned back on itself. Zevran waved, beckoning with his hand, shouting something unintelligible.
"We'd better catch them up," said Alistair. He sounded utterly fed up.
Fearghal walked to the edge of the path, then looked back at Alistair, grinning. "I bet we can be at the bottom before them," he said, taking his shield off his back.
Alistair gaped at him. "You can't mean...down there? On our shields?"
"Why not? It's not particularly steep. The snow looks quite deep at the bottom, where it's drifted; we should have a soft landing."
"B-but Morrigan... Wynne... " Alistair stood at the edge of the path, his uncertainty plain.
"Pfft. Morrigan's never learned how to enjoy herself and Wynne's so old, she's forgotten how!" said Fearghal, dismissively. He gave Alistair a measuring look. "Unless you're... scared."
Fearghal grinned when Alistair protested hotly, "I am not scared! It's just... well, I'm not sure our shields are big enough."
"They're fine. Crouch on the shield and hold on to the enarmes. Like this, look." Fearghal placed his shield at the edge of the path and stepped on to it, holding the leather straps at the back. He leaned forwards and let his weight tip over the edge.
Fearghal set off down the slope, quickly gathering speed, whooping with glee. Alistair shrugged his shield off and set off after him. Fearghal felt the air rushing past him faster and faster. He found he was able to steer, after a fashion, by leaning his weight to one side or the other. It's like flying! As the ground levelled out, he hit a bump and went sprawling into a snowdrift. He lay there, winded, then heard a startled yell and saw Alistair hurtling towards him, his eyes wide with alarm. Fearghal rolled out of the way as Alistair landed alongside him.
"Oof!" The impact knocked all air out of Alistair's lungs as he hit the snowdrift.
As Alistair lay there, dazed, Fearghal started to laugh. He rolled on to his back, laughing like a lunatic. He hadn't had this much fun in ages!
Alistair slowly started to sit up, chuckling. "That was... fun," he admitted. He grinned widely. "I think we're in trouble, but it was definitely fun."
"It's blown the cobwebs away?" asked Fearghal, sitting up. He looked at Alistair, his brown eyes sparkling with laughter, his cheeks flushed with the cold above his beard and felt a flicker of desire. Maker's breath, but he's handsome!
"What in Andraste's name do you two think you're doing?" demanded Wynne. She loomed over them, hands on her hips; her cheeks were flushed too, but with anger rather than cold. "Are you out of your minds? What were you thinking of? You are the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. You could have broken your necks!"
"I'm sorry, Wynne. I know... it would have looked awful in the history books." Feraghal sniggered and caught Alistair eyes and winked. He saw Alistair start to giggle, then clap his hand over his mouth as Wynne glared at him.
"I don't know why I'm wasting my breath," said Wynne, snorting with disgust. "I suggest you gather your shields and get onto the path. Leliana says that we should reach Orzammar by late afternoon."
As Wynne stalked back to the path, Fearghal and Alistair picked up their shields and followed her, chuckling. Fearghal's desire to giggle only got worse as they rejoined the others. Morrigan was looking at them, seemingly torn between disdain and bafflement; Leliana looked like she was trying not to smile, her blue eyes twinkling; Zevran grinned as them, openly amused.
"So, this is how you have fun in snow?"
"Indeed it is, Zev. Do you want to borrow my shield?" offered Fearghal, laughing.
"Thank you, but no. At least this time it is you, not I, that is covered in snow and will end up cold and wet."
"We'll be in Orzammar before dark. It's nice and warm in there, by all accounts. Even warm enough for you."
~o~O~o~
It was almost dark by the time they arrived at Orzammar. They'd been held up by a gang of bandits on the road. They hadn't been difficult to deal with, but it had slowed them down. There was a market just outside the gates that looked to be packing away for the night; Leliana was easily persuaded that she could come up and visit it another day.
As they walked up the ramp to the massive gates, Fearghal could see a group of humans having an animated discussion with one of the guards. Fragments of conversation drifted down to them.
"King Loghain will not suffer this delay of his appointed messenger!" The human, clad in splintmail, crossed his arms and attempted to intimidate the guard by looming over him.
The sturdy dwarf looked unimpressed. "Veata! This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time."
Fearghal and Alistair exchanged a look.
"Uh-oh, trouble," muttered Alistair.
Fearghal marched up to the guard. "I have important business in Orzammar."
"Not more important than mine," declared the messenger, indignantly.
The guard turned to Fearghal. "Your business will wait, he told him brusquely. "Orzammar must limit outside influence until the throne is settled. No one gets in."
The guard patiently explain that the previous king, Endrin, had died less than a month before and the dwarven Assembly was still squabbling over a successor. Fearghal hesitated, knowing that it would likely cause more trouble with Loghain's messenger, then said," The Grey Wardens need their traditional dwarven allies." Fearghal pulled the treaty out of his pack and handed it to the guard.
"The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!" The messenger was nearly apoplectic.
The guard examined the seal on the treaty and agreed to let them pass.
The messenger howled in outrage, demanding their immediate execution. Fearghal felt his temper flare. He drew his sword and pressed it against the neck of the messenger, who squeaked in alarm, eyes wide.
"Run back to your false king. The dwarves will not hear him today."
The messenger turned his terrified face to the guard and realised, as the guard looked on impassively, that there was no help to be had from him. He raised his hands and backed away from Fearghal's blade. The messenger beckoned his companions and descended the ramp hurriedly, turning at the bottom to shout defiantly, "King Loghain will hear of this!"
"Good!" shouted Fearghal. "Give him our regards."
He turned back to the dwarf guard, who was now grinning at him. "You've done me a service, Warden. That fool Imrek was barking for a week. Are all humans so touched?" Remembering himself, he straightened his face. "You are free to enter Orzammar, Grey Warden, though I don't know what help you will find," he said solemnly.
The great doors swung open and they entered Orzammar. The hall they found themselves in was enormous. For a few moments, they all stood and stared around them, lost for words. They made their way through the hall, heads swivelling, taking in the vaulted ceiling high above them, the reliefs carved on the walls, the immense statues. At the far end of the hall, two guards swung open another pair of doors and they walked straight into a fight. Two groups of angry dwarves faced each other, trading shouts and insults. A guard that tried to intervene was attacked and killed, then both sides melted away, as if into the stone.
Fearghal stood there, blinking, trying to make sense of what he'd seen.
"Stone-blind idiots! I won't have fighting in the Commons, especially in front of outsiders!" roared a furious voice.
An angry-looking dwarf marched up to them and greeted them abruptly. "Warden, I am bid to let you enter the Commons, but keep your place! Warden or not, I want order!"
"There is a Blight coming. We are here to seek Orzammar's assistance. We have no intention of causing trouble."
The guard glared up at Fearghal. "Surface problems." He snorted dismissively. "Well, we have no king to hear you. You can join the shouting at the Assembly in the Diamond Quarter, if you want."
"We were hoping to find somewhere to stay, first," said Fearghal.
"You're not going to stay in your compound?" The dwarf looked confused.
"We have a compound in Orzammar?" Fearghal looked across at Alistair, who shrugged; it was obviously news to him too.
The dwarf narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you sure you're Grey Wardens?"
"We hadn't been Wardens for long when the rest of our Order was killed at Ostagar, but, yes, we are Grey Wardens."
The dwarf turned away, grumbling to himself, then shouted, "Denrig! Show these people to the Grey Warden compound in the Diamond Quarter."
A red-haired guard with an intricately braided beard hurried over, then gestured at them to follow. He led the way through the city. For a man with such short legs, he moved surprisingly fast. There was no time to dawdle and look around as they hurried to keep up with him. He led them through a pair of heavy metal doors, saying, "This here's the Diamond Quarter. Your compound's just up here on the left."
Denrig turned left into a broad avenue and stopped in front of the first building. "This is it. Thamar, the caretaker, should be inside." Barely giving Fearghal time to thank him, he turned and hurried away.
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Date: 2011-03-06 04:43 am (UTC)or see some mention of towels
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Date: 2011-03-06 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 11:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 11:19 am (UTC)I won't be disappointed by lack of bath-sex, I promise! This is evolving very nicely as it is, they're just a tad... slow.
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Date: 2011-03-06 02:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 07:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 07:35 pm (UTC)Not that Alistair would know what to do with that rope. :/
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Date: 2011-03-06 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 08:43 pm (UTC)Sorry, got a bit enthusiastic here. It's your fic, not mine.
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Date: 2011-03-06 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 11:45 pm (UTC)Telling Leliana was a big step for slowcoach Ali, though.
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Date: 2011-03-07 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-07 07:56 am (UTC)