Quest Four - Many Meetings
I'm sorry this took so long getting out, I've been working on my original novel and some other projects. And this next week I'll be doing a job that'll keep me pretty busy whenever I'm around my computer, so I might not update the next chapter very soon, either. Don't give up on me, though, I'm still writing!
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The makeshift contingent of soldiers marched eastward into the Frostback Mountains. There had been scattered attacks throughout Ferelden and Orlais, but scouts found that the bulk of the Darkspawn were waiting in the mountain caverns. There the army would confront the hoard before it could grow into a true Blight.
The temple ruins where the army made their camp had once been the resting place of the Sacred Ashes of Andraste. But the discovery of the Ashes had been the relic’s downfall. With every pinch taken by the desperate and the devout, whatever Divine magic had maintained the holy site became weaker and weaker until the Urn was completely empty and the temple crumbled around it.
For years the ruins had been completely abandoned, besides the few faithful pilgrims still muttering their prayers in the silent halls of the temple, until the army made use of the ruins in numbers never seen there before. United as they once were by the Hero of Ferelden, the races stood together again to defend the land they share-their animosity set aside, for the moment.
It is fitting that this holy place is where the Chosen One first began to learn the somewhat miraculous circumstances of his birth, and where he took the first toddling steps towards his destiny.
This is also where he began to gather the allies who would one day help him save the world.
Quest Four
Many Meetings
The mountains were the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.
Of course he hadn’t seen much in his life, having never left Redcliffe before, so he thought that each new sight was the most beautiful. The first broad green valley he looked down upon from the hills; the first meadow strewn with blooming wildflowers in every color; the first forest with trees so tall they stretched out of sight and the heady scent of wild growing things-each new place was a treasure he wished he could immortalize in a painting and keep for the rest of his days.
But this time Harry was sure: mountains were the grandest thing in the world. The huge snow-capped peaks reaching up to the sky, so large that it seemed a man could climb his entire life and never reach the top. Cold air prickled Harry’s face and lungs as he stared up at the incomprehensibly immense white form rising against a slate grey backdrop of clouds, framed from below by ancient evergreen trees.
He wondered if his parents had seen places like this. He had been thinking about them a lot since his last conversation with Petunia. First he had been amazed by the thought that his mother had been a mage. Not just a mage, but a mage who had avoided the Circle of Magi and tried to be a hero. Had she been successful? Had she saved lives, healed the sick, protected the innocent? Or had she been a rebel, fighting for the freedom of other mages in Ferelden? And what of his father? Was he the apostate that Harry’s mother ran away with? Was he a hero, too?
These questions had been whirling around in Harry’s mind like a maelstrom since he left Redcliffe. It kept him from thinking about the things he left behind. It also kept him from thinking about the things that lay ahead, like the Darkspawn and the real possibility that he could die during a battle. He wasn’t afraid to die, per say, but he didn’t like to think about it. He was still unsure of whether or not he wanted to accept the offer to become a Grey Warden, either.
“Just ‘bout there now,” Hagrid said, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.
“Good thing, too,” Tonks said with a sigh. “Being a Warden involves a lot more walking than you’d think.”
Tonks was not very good at walking, as Harry had learned over the course of the journey, and as she inadvertently demonstrated at that moment by tripping face-first into the snow.
“Are you alright?” Remus asked.
Laughing, Tonks emerged from the snowdrift and brushed white powder from her robes. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a good thing my mother isn’t here. When I was a child and it snowed like this, my father and I used to go outside and throw snowballs at each other until we came back inside and tracked water through the house. She would get so furious. Do you like snow, Remus?”
“Snow usually meant there would be less food for my clan to hunt,” Remus said. “But in my time as a human I’ve begun to see the appeal, though I still prefer staying indoors near the fire.”
Tonks laughed. “You make it sound like you’re an old maid, sweetheart. Oh, looks like you’re in luck. We’ll get you out of the cold soon enough.”
After clearing a line of trees they arrived in an old village bustling with activity. People in armor were gathered around several big bonfires chatting amongst themselves, couriers darted here and there running errands, swordsmen sparred as a group of archers trained with dummies, and the barking of several mabari hounds echoed off the mountainside.
Their contingent passed beneath a high wooden arch as they entered the village. Remus went to the front of the group and began to give directions. “These houses have been made into makeshift barracks for soldiers, and if I’m not mistaken you’ve been given use of this one here. The first building up the hill has a quartermaster who will provide you with supplies, and there should be food available somewhere-just follow the queue.”
This announcement was met with equal amounts of appreciative murmurs at the promise of food and groans at the idea of waiting in line.
“There is also a Chantry at the top of the hill if you’ve need of one,” Remus said.
The soldiers went their separate ways. Hagrid paused to grin at Harry. “I’ll be seein’ you ‘round the camp sometime, won’t I?”
“Of course,” Harry said, grinning back at his large friend. During their trip, Hagrid had done a lot to cheer him up when he started thinking too much about Dudley and Redcliffe. Hagrid also knew a lot about nature and had shown Harry which plants were poisonous, identified animals in the area by reading tracks he found, and told him Chasind legends at the campfire.
Hagrid walked away, big booted feet splashing through the slurry of snow and mud. Before Harry could decide what to do, Remus approached.
“I thought you said we were going to a ruin,” Harry said.
“The ruins are farther up the mountain. The bulk of the army is there, including the generals and eventually Tonks and myself,” Remus said. “This is the village of Haven. It actually used to be the home of a dragon-worshipping cult if you can believe it now. Quite fascinating, really.”
“What happened to the cult?”
“The same thing that happened to most people who attacked the Hero of Ferelden,” Remus said. “Do you know the story of the Sacred Ashes?”
“I know enough to know that they’re long gone,” Harry said. “What a surprise, letting a bunch of people take the ashes eventually led to them running out.”
Remus laughed. “Yes, it was a rather predictable consequence. But to the sick and dying, and those eager to get rich off of their desperation, the consequences didn’t matter much. If you go to the Chantry, I’m sure someone would be able to tell you more about their discovery if you’re interested. Other than that, I encourage you to have a look around the village. There are a lot of interesting people here. If you decide to become a soldier or just want to discuss your options, you can talk to a friend of mine named Charlie Weasley-red hair, freckles, you can’t miss him. He’ll probably be in the ruins with the rest of the army. Someone should be willing to show you the way, if you ask.”
“And if I decide to be a Grey Warden?”
“I’ll be busy discussing strategy with the generals, but the Warden-Commander is here in the village. He has dark hair, wears the Grey Warden insignia on his armor, and always has a dog with him. If you’re interested in joining the Wardens, he’s the man to talk to-even if you’re undecided, he might just convince you.”
“Thank you for this, Remus,” Harry said. “If you hadn’t invited me along, I’m not sure where I would have gone after leaving Redcliffe.”
“Thank me if we both get through this alive,” Remus said. “I should go, they’ll expect me soon. Good luck, Potter, whatever you decide.”
First the blood mage and now Remus wishing him luck-it seemed the universe knew something Harry didn’t.
“Even if you don’t become a Warden, come see me in the ruins,” Tonks said. “I’ll be doing patrols through the tunnels all day, if you get bored of wandering the village and want to see some action.”
Remus and Tonks walked away, leaving Harry to look around at his surroundings once more. If one ignored the soldiers, the village looked like a quaint little community nestled in the beauty of the mountains. No wonder it was called Haven. It seemed impossible that a cult used to live there. Then again, Harry thought he could sense a strange sort of energy radiating up from the ground, though that could have just been his imagination.
Harry wandered around a bit aimlessly, not sure of where to go or how to begin. He spent some time watching the kennel-master tend to his hounds, fascinated by the big playful wardogs. He’d only seen a few of them before in his life, and certainly never had one of his own.
Beyond the dog kennels, there was a pond that hadn’t been frozen over yet despite the cold. A heavy fog rose up from the water. There was a warrior with wavy red hair sitting on the dock, picking through a bowl of stew and tossing bits into the water for the fish. He was tall and broad-shouldered with freckles, a long nose, and large feet and hands. Was this the soldier that Remus had mentioned? He seemed rather young-he still had the gangly look of adolescence. Harry walked down the bank and stepped onto the dock.
“Hello, are you Weasley?” Harry asked.
The warrior sighed. “Yes, but if you’re looking for Charlie Weasley, he’s in the ruins.”
“Oh. I wasn’t looking, really, I just thought you might be him,” Harry said.
“You and everyone else here,” the warrior said.
“I’m sorry?” Harry tried.
The warrior grimaced and put his hand to his face. “No, don’t be, it’s-let’s try this again.” He stood up and turned to face Harry, holding out a hand. “I’m Ron.”
Harry shook his hand. “Potter.”
“Sorry about that earlier. Charlie’s my older brother, and it just gets a little annoying sometimes, always being mistaken for him, or compared to him…” Ron shook his head. “Being a Captain’s kid brother isn’t as much fun as some people might think.”
“I can imagine,” Harry said with a smirk. “My cousin was made a guard and I never heard the end of it.”
“Well, try having five successful older brothers,” Ron replied. “Two Templars, a respected soldier-even the twins are making it rich as merchants. It’s a lot to live up to. So, are you with the army? I don’t think I’ve seen you around the camp.”
“No, I just got here,” Harry said. “I was trying to find my way around the village, actually.”
“If you want to find something to eat, I wouldn’t get your hopes up for anything good,” Ron said. He swirled the contents of his soup bowl, which were dull brownish-grey in colour and gave off no steam.
“Mm, bland and lukewarm,” Harry said dryly. “My favorite.”
“It’s not mum’s cooking, that’s for sure. But I suppose it’s better than going hungry.” Ron slurped up some of the broth and set his leftovers in front of a nearby mabari hound. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you’d like, I can show you around? It’s not like I’m doing anything, except making friends with the fishes-and they’re rubbish conversationalists anyway.”
“There’s no point in talking to fish. All they ever want to know is where to find a good worm and whether their scales make their arses look fat.”
Ron laughed. “Now I know I’ve been spending too much time by myself if that sounds like it could be true. Come on, let’s find something to do before I go completely mad.”
They wandered about the village for a while as Ron pointed out the various groups who had joined the war effort. He led Harry as close to the Circle mages as they could get with the Templars standing watch, and Harry managed to catch a glimpse of the mages performing some sort of ritual. They also chatted with some of the soldiers, many of whom were impressed that Harry had fought Darkspawn before.
After wandering around the camp for a while, Harry picked up enough odds and ends to sell that he ended up with the coin to buy proper leather armor from the quartermaster. Once suited up, he sold his old hand-me-downs and pilfered daggers as well. He wouldn’t need them anymore. It was a new experience, having coin to spend. Vernon and Petunia had never given him money for his work, and certainly never trusted him with their own.
Harry also belatedly realized that he was still carrying around the dead rats from the Dursley’s larder (so that’s where the smell was coming from), so he tossed them off the side of the mountain into some bushes.
“There’s the Dalish Elves,” Ron said, nodding towards a group of tattooed elves standing together in a wooded glen.
“Keep walking, shemlen,” one of the elves sneered.
“That’s friendly,” Harry muttered.
“Yeah, not exactly a cheerful bunch, the Dalish,” Ron said.
“And I suppose they should be cheerful about genocide and slavery?” a bossy voice said. There was a young human woman standing nearby with a disapproving frown that made her look older than she was. She had lots of bushy brown hair and wore yellow Circle mage robes.
“Are you talking to us?” Ron asked.
“That should be obvious,” the mage said. “You’re the only one here who’s being racially insensitive.”
Ron burst out laughing. “We’re being what?”
“Oh for goodness sake!” the mage said, rolling her eyes. “Does no one here care about the plight of the elves?”
“I’m sure the elves care,” Ron said with a shrug. The mage glared at him.
“Er-not that we don’t,” Harry said, trying to stop an argument before it could begin.
“I’ve been talking quite a lot with the Dalish elves and I just think they’re so fascinating, this is the first time I’ve had a chance to meet them in person, living at the Circle of Magi as I have all my life, though I’ve read plenty of books about elven contributions to the study of magic, and it’s been a marvelous learning experience comparing notes so to speak, my name is Hermione, did I mention that?” She said this all very quickly.
“Er… I’m Potter, and this is Ron,” Harry said. “You do know that we’re here to fight Darkspawn, right?”
“Well, we’re not fighting Darkspawn at the moment, are we?” Hermione countered.
“She’s got me there,” Harry said to Ron.
“Look, we’re on very important business right now, and you’re holding us up,” Ron said. “So if you’ll excuse us…?”
“It looked to me like you were just wandering around,” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It was some very important wandering around, then,” Ron said impatiently. He stepped around the mage, leaving Harry to follow as he felt Hermione glaring at the back of his head. Once they were some distance away, Ron muttered, “Bloody hell, she is a nightmare.”
“Have you met her before?” Harry asked.
Ron laughed. “No, but she’s gotten kind of infamous around camp. Now I can see why. Won’t you please listen to the plight of the elves? Honestly, even the elves are annoyed by her.”
“She’s not that bad,” Harry said with a shrug. “Just… a little overbearing.”
Ron snorted. “She’s mental.”
They continued to explore the village and found a group of dwarven warriors sitting together, their loud voices drowning out the sounds of the busy camp. They were dressed in fine armor and looked unlike any surface dwarves Harry had seen. These dwarves were warriors directly from the army of Orzammar.
A blond-haired dwarf wearing red and gold clothes rather than armor approached the group, precariously balancing several mugs of ale. He was younger than most of the other dwarves and his round, chubby face lacked the facial hair typical of his kind.
To Harry’s surprise, one of the warriors stuck out his leg and tripped the beardless dwarf, sending him tumbling to the ground. The drinks spilled everywhere to peals of raucous laughter.
“Aw, the little granny’s boy hasn’t grown his surface legs yet.”
“Why’d you have to go and spill perfectly good ale?” another dwarf asked the blushing young dwarf.
“Perfectly good ale that don’t cost us any coin, for that matter!” yet another exclaimed with a grin.
“I’m sorry,” the young dwarf said as he knelt to pick up the dropped mugs. “I’ll, ah, go get some more-oof!”
One of the dwarves had kicked his bottom, sending him sprawling in the snow as the warriors laughed again.
Harry stepped forward, arms crossed. “That’s enough.”
“What business of it is yours?” one of the dwarves demanded. “Or does that squealing nug need surfacers to fight his battles?”
“Battle?” Harry scoffed. “If six warriors bullying one unarmed kid is a battle, I’d hate to see what you dwarves call a war.”
“I thought that humans knew well enough not to challenge the berserkers,” the dwarf said, rising from his seat.
“And I always thought the famous dwarven berserkers had better things to do-like, I dunno, killing Darkspawn,” Ron said, standing at Harry’s side. It was a strange thing to realize, that this person Harry only just met already had his back.
“You want a fight?” the dwarf asked. “I think we can arrange that, can’t we boys?”
“Let it go,” one of his fellows said. “We’ve had our fun, it’s not worth it. We aren’t in Orzammar.”
“Just because we aren’t in Orzammar doesn’t mean we can’t teach a few idiots some respect.”
Some of the dwarves stood up while others preferred not to get involved. The fighters charged at Ron while Harry made his way around them to backstab. The dwarves were much tougher and had better armor, but Harry had speed on his side and Ron had a far longer reach. They were reasonably matched, leading Harry to believe that these weren’t hardened soldiers-rookies, like Harry and Ron themselves. The beards were damned misleading.
The scrap didn’t last long, as a higher-ranking dwarven soldier appeared and forced them to separate.
“Enough! Save it for the Darkspawn. You can go back to your petty squabbles after the battle if you’re not all dead,” he snarled. He turned to the dwarves. “This isn’t the first time you lot have started trouble, now move before I have you assigned to digging latrines. And you, aren’t you Captain Charlie’s little brother? I don’t think he’d approve of you picking fights.”
“That shows how well you know my brother, then,” Ron said with a snort.
Grumbling in annoyance, all of the dwarves wandered off except for the fresh-faced one who’d been tripped and kicked into the snow.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said timidly.
“Why do you let them push you around?” Ron asked.
“They’re not really pushing me around, they’re just having fun,” the dwarf said, as if he were trying to convince himself more than anything.
“It didn’t look like you were having much fun,” Harry said.
“Yeah, well… thank you for helping me. This is the first time I’ve ever left the city, and I haven’t really talked to any surfacers yet,” the dwarf said. He glanced warily up at the sky. “It’s awfully big out here, isn’t it? And so empty. The first day I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d just start floating up to the clouds.”
“Why would you float?” Ron asked. “You’re a dwarf, you’re all like… y’know, little boulders.”
“Thank you,” Nevil said with a smile. “I’m Nevil of House Godric, noble caste.”
“You’re a noble?” Harry asked. “Why did those other dwarves treat you like that if you’re nobility?”
“I’m not exactly the most popular noble around. As you might have guessed,” Nevil said, glancing nervously at his shoes. “My gran won’t let me learn how to fight, and I don’t have a head for politics. Most people in Orzammar think I’m just a joke-but my problems aren’t yours, it’s not something you need to worry about.”
“You need to stand up for yourself,” Harry said. “They keep doing it because they know you won’t fight back.”
“Oh, no, I’d rather just not bother. Anyway, I should go find my gran. She’s the head of our family and wanted to bring money for the Orzammar soldiers, but we need to leave before any of the fighting starts.” Nevil smiled. “If you ever come to Orzammar, feel free to say hello. I’ll have a feast made in your honor.”
“Assuming I don’t die during the battle, I’ll be sure to do that,” Harry said. He didn’t know what business could possibly bring him to Orzammar, but he did want to enjoy his newfound freedom, didn’t he? Maybe he’d travel around all of Thedas someday.
“Good day,” Nevil said. He nodded and walked away, leaving Ron looking at Harry in bemusement.
“That has to be the weirdest dwarf I’ve ever met.”
Harry nodded in agreement.
They climbed the hill to the highest part of the village, which lead to the Chantry. It didn’t look strange to Harry’s eyes, just the typical old rustic affair one might expect in a small village like this. It was hard to imagine that this Chantry, this whole village in fact, had once been home to a cult.
Harry paused at the top of the hill to look down at the mingling soldiers and the expanse of the valley beyond. As impressive as the sight of the mountains had been from below, he had to admit, the view from the top was pretty good, too.
Ron suddenly gasped and nudged Harry with his elbow. “Look over there,” he hissed, pointing to his opposite side. “I think that’s the Warden-Commander!”
The man he indicated was a handsome archer with aristocratic good looks, a short but scruffy beard, and wavy black hair. Like Remus had said, the man was playing tug-of-war with a big mabari hound. The man sounded a bit like a dog himself, with his gruff barking laughter and playful growls.
“I came here with the Grey Wardens,” Harry said. “They told me that I could join if I wanted.”
Ron stared at him, bright blue eyes wide. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Well, why haven’t you joined yet?” Ron exclaimed. “Do you have any idea how many people would kill for the chance to be a Grey Warden?”
“I wanted to think it over,” Harry said.
“What’s there to think about?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know, there is the fact that being a Grey Warden means I’d be committed to it for the rest of my life. I also wouldn’t be able to get married or have kids, and I’d probably die horribly at a young age,” Harry said. “Clearly I should rush into this decision.”
“Alright, I guess you have a point,” Ron said with a shrug.
Harry supposed there was no use in putting it off any longer. He had a choice to make. Be a Grey Warden and protect the world from Darkspawn? Join the army and be paid to serve his country? Or do neither and go wherever the urge took him once the battle was over?
CODEX ENTRIES: Ron Weasley, Hermione, Nevil of House Godric
-AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION TIME-
DECISION
-Talk to Warden-Commander Sirius (Be a Grey Warden)
-Go to the ruins and talk to Captain Charlie (Join the Army)
-Skip the decision and go kill things with Tonks now (Become an Adventurer)
Exactly What It Says On The Tin. Whatever Harry decides will give him different abilities, side-quests, and change how characters respond to him later.
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The makeshift contingent of soldiers marched eastward into the Frostback Mountains. There had been scattered attacks throughout Ferelden and Orlais, but scouts found that the bulk of the Darkspawn were waiting in the mountain caverns. There the army would confront the hoard before it could grow into a true Blight.
The temple ruins where the army made their camp had once been the resting place of the Sacred Ashes of Andraste. But the discovery of the Ashes had been the relic’s downfall. With every pinch taken by the desperate and the devout, whatever Divine magic had maintained the holy site became weaker and weaker until the Urn was completely empty and the temple crumbled around it.
For years the ruins had been completely abandoned, besides the few faithful pilgrims still muttering their prayers in the silent halls of the temple, until the army made use of the ruins in numbers never seen there before. United as they once were by the Hero of Ferelden, the races stood together again to defend the land they share-their animosity set aside, for the moment.
It is fitting that this holy place is where the Chosen One first began to learn the somewhat miraculous circumstances of his birth, and where he took the first toddling steps towards his destiny.
This is also where he began to gather the allies who would one day help him save the world.
Quest Four
Many Meetings
The mountains were the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.
Of course he hadn’t seen much in his life, having never left Redcliffe before, so he thought that each new sight was the most beautiful. The first broad green valley he looked down upon from the hills; the first meadow strewn with blooming wildflowers in every color; the first forest with trees so tall they stretched out of sight and the heady scent of wild growing things-each new place was a treasure he wished he could immortalize in a painting and keep for the rest of his days.
But this time Harry was sure: mountains were the grandest thing in the world. The huge snow-capped peaks reaching up to the sky, so large that it seemed a man could climb his entire life and never reach the top. Cold air prickled Harry’s face and lungs as he stared up at the incomprehensibly immense white form rising against a slate grey backdrop of clouds, framed from below by ancient evergreen trees.
He wondered if his parents had seen places like this. He had been thinking about them a lot since his last conversation with Petunia. First he had been amazed by the thought that his mother had been a mage. Not just a mage, but a mage who had avoided the Circle of Magi and tried to be a hero. Had she been successful? Had she saved lives, healed the sick, protected the innocent? Or had she been a rebel, fighting for the freedom of other mages in Ferelden? And what of his father? Was he the apostate that Harry’s mother ran away with? Was he a hero, too?
These questions had been whirling around in Harry’s mind like a maelstrom since he left Redcliffe. It kept him from thinking about the things he left behind. It also kept him from thinking about the things that lay ahead, like the Darkspawn and the real possibility that he could die during a battle. He wasn’t afraid to die, per say, but he didn’t like to think about it. He was still unsure of whether or not he wanted to accept the offer to become a Grey Warden, either.
“Just ‘bout there now,” Hagrid said, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.
“Good thing, too,” Tonks said with a sigh. “Being a Warden involves a lot more walking than you’d think.”
Tonks was not very good at walking, as Harry had learned over the course of the journey, and as she inadvertently demonstrated at that moment by tripping face-first into the snow.
“Are you alright?” Remus asked.
Laughing, Tonks emerged from the snowdrift and brushed white powder from her robes. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a good thing my mother isn’t here. When I was a child and it snowed like this, my father and I used to go outside and throw snowballs at each other until we came back inside and tracked water through the house. She would get so furious. Do you like snow, Remus?”
“Snow usually meant there would be less food for my clan to hunt,” Remus said. “But in my time as a human I’ve begun to see the appeal, though I still prefer staying indoors near the fire.”
Tonks laughed. “You make it sound like you’re an old maid, sweetheart. Oh, looks like you’re in luck. We’ll get you out of the cold soon enough.”
After clearing a line of trees they arrived in an old village bustling with activity. People in armor were gathered around several big bonfires chatting amongst themselves, couriers darted here and there running errands, swordsmen sparred as a group of archers trained with dummies, and the barking of several mabari hounds echoed off the mountainside.
Their contingent passed beneath a high wooden arch as they entered the village. Remus went to the front of the group and began to give directions. “These houses have been made into makeshift barracks for soldiers, and if I’m not mistaken you’ve been given use of this one here. The first building up the hill has a quartermaster who will provide you with supplies, and there should be food available somewhere-just follow the queue.”
This announcement was met with equal amounts of appreciative murmurs at the promise of food and groans at the idea of waiting in line.
“There is also a Chantry at the top of the hill if you’ve need of one,” Remus said.
The soldiers went their separate ways. Hagrid paused to grin at Harry. “I’ll be seein’ you ‘round the camp sometime, won’t I?”
“Of course,” Harry said, grinning back at his large friend. During their trip, Hagrid had done a lot to cheer him up when he started thinking too much about Dudley and Redcliffe. Hagrid also knew a lot about nature and had shown Harry which plants were poisonous, identified animals in the area by reading tracks he found, and told him Chasind legends at the campfire.
Hagrid walked away, big booted feet splashing through the slurry of snow and mud. Before Harry could decide what to do, Remus approached.
“I thought you said we were going to a ruin,” Harry said.
“The ruins are farther up the mountain. The bulk of the army is there, including the generals and eventually Tonks and myself,” Remus said. “This is the village of Haven. It actually used to be the home of a dragon-worshipping cult if you can believe it now. Quite fascinating, really.”
“What happened to the cult?”
“The same thing that happened to most people who attacked the Hero of Ferelden,” Remus said. “Do you know the story of the Sacred Ashes?”
“I know enough to know that they’re long gone,” Harry said. “What a surprise, letting a bunch of people take the ashes eventually led to them running out.”
Remus laughed. “Yes, it was a rather predictable consequence. But to the sick and dying, and those eager to get rich off of their desperation, the consequences didn’t matter much. If you go to the Chantry, I’m sure someone would be able to tell you more about their discovery if you’re interested. Other than that, I encourage you to have a look around the village. There are a lot of interesting people here. If you decide to become a soldier or just want to discuss your options, you can talk to a friend of mine named Charlie Weasley-red hair, freckles, you can’t miss him. He’ll probably be in the ruins with the rest of the army. Someone should be willing to show you the way, if you ask.”
“And if I decide to be a Grey Warden?”
“I’ll be busy discussing strategy with the generals, but the Warden-Commander is here in the village. He has dark hair, wears the Grey Warden insignia on his armor, and always has a dog with him. If you’re interested in joining the Wardens, he’s the man to talk to-even if you’re undecided, he might just convince you.”
“Thank you for this, Remus,” Harry said. “If you hadn’t invited me along, I’m not sure where I would have gone after leaving Redcliffe.”
“Thank me if we both get through this alive,” Remus said. “I should go, they’ll expect me soon. Good luck, Potter, whatever you decide.”
First the blood mage and now Remus wishing him luck-it seemed the universe knew something Harry didn’t.
“Even if you don’t become a Warden, come see me in the ruins,” Tonks said. “I’ll be doing patrols through the tunnels all day, if you get bored of wandering the village and want to see some action.”
Remus and Tonks walked away, leaving Harry to look around at his surroundings once more. If one ignored the soldiers, the village looked like a quaint little community nestled in the beauty of the mountains. No wonder it was called Haven. It seemed impossible that a cult used to live there. Then again, Harry thought he could sense a strange sort of energy radiating up from the ground, though that could have just been his imagination.
Harry wandered around a bit aimlessly, not sure of where to go or how to begin. He spent some time watching the kennel-master tend to his hounds, fascinated by the big playful wardogs. He’d only seen a few of them before in his life, and certainly never had one of his own.
Beyond the dog kennels, there was a pond that hadn’t been frozen over yet despite the cold. A heavy fog rose up from the water. There was a warrior with wavy red hair sitting on the dock, picking through a bowl of stew and tossing bits into the water for the fish. He was tall and broad-shouldered with freckles, a long nose, and large feet and hands. Was this the soldier that Remus had mentioned? He seemed rather young-he still had the gangly look of adolescence. Harry walked down the bank and stepped onto the dock.
“Hello, are you Weasley?” Harry asked.
The warrior sighed. “Yes, but if you’re looking for Charlie Weasley, he’s in the ruins.”
“Oh. I wasn’t looking, really, I just thought you might be him,” Harry said.
“You and everyone else here,” the warrior said.
“I’m sorry?” Harry tried.
The warrior grimaced and put his hand to his face. “No, don’t be, it’s-let’s try this again.” He stood up and turned to face Harry, holding out a hand. “I’m Ron.”
Harry shook his hand. “Potter.”
“Sorry about that earlier. Charlie’s my older brother, and it just gets a little annoying sometimes, always being mistaken for him, or compared to him…” Ron shook his head. “Being a Captain’s kid brother isn’t as much fun as some people might think.”
“I can imagine,” Harry said with a smirk. “My cousin was made a guard and I never heard the end of it.”
“Well, try having five successful older brothers,” Ron replied. “Two Templars, a respected soldier-even the twins are making it rich as merchants. It’s a lot to live up to. So, are you with the army? I don’t think I’ve seen you around the camp.”
“No, I just got here,” Harry said. “I was trying to find my way around the village, actually.”
“If you want to find something to eat, I wouldn’t get your hopes up for anything good,” Ron said. He swirled the contents of his soup bowl, which were dull brownish-grey in colour and gave off no steam.
“Mm, bland and lukewarm,” Harry said dryly. “My favorite.”
“It’s not mum’s cooking, that’s for sure. But I suppose it’s better than going hungry.” Ron slurped up some of the broth and set his leftovers in front of a nearby mabari hound. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you’d like, I can show you around? It’s not like I’m doing anything, except making friends with the fishes-and they’re rubbish conversationalists anyway.”
“There’s no point in talking to fish. All they ever want to know is where to find a good worm and whether their scales make their arses look fat.”
Ron laughed. “Now I know I’ve been spending too much time by myself if that sounds like it could be true. Come on, let’s find something to do before I go completely mad.”
They wandered about the village for a while as Ron pointed out the various groups who had joined the war effort. He led Harry as close to the Circle mages as they could get with the Templars standing watch, and Harry managed to catch a glimpse of the mages performing some sort of ritual. They also chatted with some of the soldiers, many of whom were impressed that Harry had fought Darkspawn before.
After wandering around the camp for a while, Harry picked up enough odds and ends to sell that he ended up with the coin to buy proper leather armor from the quartermaster. Once suited up, he sold his old hand-me-downs and pilfered daggers as well. He wouldn’t need them anymore. It was a new experience, having coin to spend. Vernon and Petunia had never given him money for his work, and certainly never trusted him with their own.
Harry also belatedly realized that he was still carrying around the dead rats from the Dursley’s larder (so that’s where the smell was coming from), so he tossed them off the side of the mountain into some bushes.
“There’s the Dalish Elves,” Ron said, nodding towards a group of tattooed elves standing together in a wooded glen.
“Keep walking, shemlen,” one of the elves sneered.
“That’s friendly,” Harry muttered.
“Yeah, not exactly a cheerful bunch, the Dalish,” Ron said.
“And I suppose they should be cheerful about genocide and slavery?” a bossy voice said. There was a young human woman standing nearby with a disapproving frown that made her look older than she was. She had lots of bushy brown hair and wore yellow Circle mage robes.
“Are you talking to us?” Ron asked.
“That should be obvious,” the mage said. “You’re the only one here who’s being racially insensitive.”
Ron burst out laughing. “We’re being what?”
“Oh for goodness sake!” the mage said, rolling her eyes. “Does no one here care about the plight of the elves?”
“I’m sure the elves care,” Ron said with a shrug. The mage glared at him.
“Er-not that we don’t,” Harry said, trying to stop an argument before it could begin.
“I’ve been talking quite a lot with the Dalish elves and I just think they’re so fascinating, this is the first time I’ve had a chance to meet them in person, living at the Circle of Magi as I have all my life, though I’ve read plenty of books about elven contributions to the study of magic, and it’s been a marvelous learning experience comparing notes so to speak, my name is Hermione, did I mention that?” She said this all very quickly.
“Er… I’m Potter, and this is Ron,” Harry said. “You do know that we’re here to fight Darkspawn, right?”
“Well, we’re not fighting Darkspawn at the moment, are we?” Hermione countered.
“She’s got me there,” Harry said to Ron.
“Look, we’re on very important business right now, and you’re holding us up,” Ron said. “So if you’ll excuse us…?”
“It looked to me like you were just wandering around,” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It was some very important wandering around, then,” Ron said impatiently. He stepped around the mage, leaving Harry to follow as he felt Hermione glaring at the back of his head. Once they were some distance away, Ron muttered, “Bloody hell, she is a nightmare.”
“Have you met her before?” Harry asked.
Ron laughed. “No, but she’s gotten kind of infamous around camp. Now I can see why. Won’t you please listen to the plight of the elves? Honestly, even the elves are annoyed by her.”
“She’s not that bad,” Harry said with a shrug. “Just… a little overbearing.”
Ron snorted. “She’s mental.”
They continued to explore the village and found a group of dwarven warriors sitting together, their loud voices drowning out the sounds of the busy camp. They were dressed in fine armor and looked unlike any surface dwarves Harry had seen. These dwarves were warriors directly from the army of Orzammar.
A blond-haired dwarf wearing red and gold clothes rather than armor approached the group, precariously balancing several mugs of ale. He was younger than most of the other dwarves and his round, chubby face lacked the facial hair typical of his kind.
To Harry’s surprise, one of the warriors stuck out his leg and tripped the beardless dwarf, sending him tumbling to the ground. The drinks spilled everywhere to peals of raucous laughter.
“Aw, the little granny’s boy hasn’t grown his surface legs yet.”
“Why’d you have to go and spill perfectly good ale?” another dwarf asked the blushing young dwarf.
“Perfectly good ale that don’t cost us any coin, for that matter!” yet another exclaimed with a grin.
“I’m sorry,” the young dwarf said as he knelt to pick up the dropped mugs. “I’ll, ah, go get some more-oof!”
One of the dwarves had kicked his bottom, sending him sprawling in the snow as the warriors laughed again.
Harry stepped forward, arms crossed. “That’s enough.”
“What business of it is yours?” one of the dwarves demanded. “Or does that squealing nug need surfacers to fight his battles?”
“Battle?” Harry scoffed. “If six warriors bullying one unarmed kid is a battle, I’d hate to see what you dwarves call a war.”
“I thought that humans knew well enough not to challenge the berserkers,” the dwarf said, rising from his seat.
“And I always thought the famous dwarven berserkers had better things to do-like, I dunno, killing Darkspawn,” Ron said, standing at Harry’s side. It was a strange thing to realize, that this person Harry only just met already had his back.
“You want a fight?” the dwarf asked. “I think we can arrange that, can’t we boys?”
“Let it go,” one of his fellows said. “We’ve had our fun, it’s not worth it. We aren’t in Orzammar.”
“Just because we aren’t in Orzammar doesn’t mean we can’t teach a few idiots some respect.”
Some of the dwarves stood up while others preferred not to get involved. The fighters charged at Ron while Harry made his way around them to backstab. The dwarves were much tougher and had better armor, but Harry had speed on his side and Ron had a far longer reach. They were reasonably matched, leading Harry to believe that these weren’t hardened soldiers-rookies, like Harry and Ron themselves. The beards were damned misleading.
The scrap didn’t last long, as a higher-ranking dwarven soldier appeared and forced them to separate.
“Enough! Save it for the Darkspawn. You can go back to your petty squabbles after the battle if you’re not all dead,” he snarled. He turned to the dwarves. “This isn’t the first time you lot have started trouble, now move before I have you assigned to digging latrines. And you, aren’t you Captain Charlie’s little brother? I don’t think he’d approve of you picking fights.”
“That shows how well you know my brother, then,” Ron said with a snort.
Grumbling in annoyance, all of the dwarves wandered off except for the fresh-faced one who’d been tripped and kicked into the snow.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said timidly.
“Why do you let them push you around?” Ron asked.
“They’re not really pushing me around, they’re just having fun,” the dwarf said, as if he were trying to convince himself more than anything.
“It didn’t look like you were having much fun,” Harry said.
“Yeah, well… thank you for helping me. This is the first time I’ve ever left the city, and I haven’t really talked to any surfacers yet,” the dwarf said. He glanced warily up at the sky. “It’s awfully big out here, isn’t it? And so empty. The first day I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d just start floating up to the clouds.”
“Why would you float?” Ron asked. “You’re a dwarf, you’re all like… y’know, little boulders.”
“Thank you,” Nevil said with a smile. “I’m Nevil of House Godric, noble caste.”
“You’re a noble?” Harry asked. “Why did those other dwarves treat you like that if you’re nobility?”
“I’m not exactly the most popular noble around. As you might have guessed,” Nevil said, glancing nervously at his shoes. “My gran won’t let me learn how to fight, and I don’t have a head for politics. Most people in Orzammar think I’m just a joke-but my problems aren’t yours, it’s not something you need to worry about.”
“You need to stand up for yourself,” Harry said. “They keep doing it because they know you won’t fight back.”
“Oh, no, I’d rather just not bother. Anyway, I should go find my gran. She’s the head of our family and wanted to bring money for the Orzammar soldiers, but we need to leave before any of the fighting starts.” Nevil smiled. “If you ever come to Orzammar, feel free to say hello. I’ll have a feast made in your honor.”
“Assuming I don’t die during the battle, I’ll be sure to do that,” Harry said. He didn’t know what business could possibly bring him to Orzammar, but he did want to enjoy his newfound freedom, didn’t he? Maybe he’d travel around all of Thedas someday.
“Good day,” Nevil said. He nodded and walked away, leaving Ron looking at Harry in bemusement.
“That has to be the weirdest dwarf I’ve ever met.”
Harry nodded in agreement.
They climbed the hill to the highest part of the village, which lead to the Chantry. It didn’t look strange to Harry’s eyes, just the typical old rustic affair one might expect in a small village like this. It was hard to imagine that this Chantry, this whole village in fact, had once been home to a cult.
Harry paused at the top of the hill to look down at the mingling soldiers and the expanse of the valley beyond. As impressive as the sight of the mountains had been from below, he had to admit, the view from the top was pretty good, too.
Ron suddenly gasped and nudged Harry with his elbow. “Look over there,” he hissed, pointing to his opposite side. “I think that’s the Warden-Commander!”
The man he indicated was a handsome archer with aristocratic good looks, a short but scruffy beard, and wavy black hair. Like Remus had said, the man was playing tug-of-war with a big mabari hound. The man sounded a bit like a dog himself, with his gruff barking laughter and playful growls.
“I came here with the Grey Wardens,” Harry said. “They told me that I could join if I wanted.”
Ron stared at him, bright blue eyes wide. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Well, why haven’t you joined yet?” Ron exclaimed. “Do you have any idea how many people would kill for the chance to be a Grey Warden?”
“I wanted to think it over,” Harry said.
“What’s there to think about?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know, there is the fact that being a Grey Warden means I’d be committed to it for the rest of my life. I also wouldn’t be able to get married or have kids, and I’d probably die horribly at a young age,” Harry said. “Clearly I should rush into this decision.”
“Alright, I guess you have a point,” Ron said with a shrug.
Harry supposed there was no use in putting it off any longer. He had a choice to make. Be a Grey Warden and protect the world from Darkspawn? Join the army and be paid to serve his country? Or do neither and go wherever the urge took him once the battle was over?
CODEX ENTRIES: Ron Weasley, Hermione, Nevil of House Godric
-AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION TIME-
DECISION
-Talk to Warden-Commander Sirius (Be a Grey Warden)
-Go to the ruins and talk to Captain Charlie (Join the Army)
-Skip the decision and go kill things with Tonks now (Become an Adventurer)
Exactly What It Says On The Tin. Whatever Harry decides will give him different abilities, side-quests, and change how characters respond to him later.