"So tell me Duncan, what ails Eirwen. You know what this sickness is yes?"

Duncan sighed and nodded. "She carries the Darkspawn taint." He grimaced unhappily, "We Wardens are able to sense the taint. I can sense it in her, there is no doubt."

"Darkspawn? In the forest? Our lore tells of such creatures but do they not dwell in the Dwarven Deep Roads? Unless there's a ..."

"A blight", Duncan finished for her. "Yes Keeper, I'm afraid there's a blight coming."

Marethari paled, the tattoos on her face standing out against the pallor of her skin. "This is serious news indeed. This sickness, this taint, how can I cure it? I have tried everything I know but although Eirwen is much improved, she is still sick."

A shadow passed over Duncan's face, "I'm sorry Keeper, there is no cure. The taint will spread through the girl and either kill her or turn her into..."

"No! Surely there must be something I can do?"

Duncan regarded the Keeper carefully, "Tell me about her Keeper. What is she like?"

The Keeper smiled as she considered Eirwen and she began to tell Duncan about her. "She was orphaned at a young age and was raised by Ashalle. I'm not sure if it was losing her parents so young or simply in her nature but she has always been serious, quiet, watchful. It was quite striking when she was a child, she was always so solemn. What is even more surprising is that she became so close to Tamlen. He is hot-headed and impulsive." She smiled, "He has led the pair of them into more than one scrape, probably against her better judgement, but I don't doubt that her cooler head has kept them out of many more. There is sometimes a ... stillness about her, it can be quite unnerving. Then of course she is a good hunter, she favours the bow but is more than proficient with her blades." The Keeper shrugged slightly, smiling. "Words, how do they do a person justice?"

Duncan smiled back at the Keeper, "Indeed." He hesitated, then appeared to come to decision, "It has struck me however that there may be a way to save Eirwen but it is a slim chance and you will not like it."

Marethari raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh? Well tell me anyway, I would see her saved from this taint if I could."

"You may not know, but the Grey Wardens are immune to the taint. I think it's possible that if Eirwen were to join us she could be saved. With a blight coming we need all the Wardens we can get and from what you say of her, she could be a valuable addition to our ranks."

Marethari sighed heavily, her face sad, "But she would have to leave us."

"That she would Keeper. She would be sworn to the Grey Wardens for the rest of her life."

"I don't know if she would even agree to this. She is very loyal to her kith and kin and she has a strong sense of duty. She will not easily be persuaded, even though it may cost her her life."

Duncan looked surprised then smiled, "Then it sounds like she would be ideal for the Grey Wardens. Maybe her sense of duty could," he paused looking uncomfortable, then continued, "er...be used to persuade her to consent?"

"I'm sure it could", replied the Keeper dryly. She nodded abruptly, "Come, let us go and speak to her."

As they left the Aravel, Eirwen turned to face them. Duncan watched her closely; he had expected tension, maybe grief at the loss of her friend. Instead she just stood there, her face calm and impassive, her posture relaxed. He recalled that the Keeper had described her as 'watchful', he understood now what she had meant. The young elf before them regarded them both with a composed, considered gaze yet he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she understood more than what was before her eyes. Although she gave no outward sign that her mind was racing, Duncan didn't doubt that it was however nothing in her face gave away what conclusions she might have come to. Swiftly he appraised her in a glance. As was usual amongst the Elves she was slight, yet he could see the wiry strength of her arms and legs. Her face was tattooed, a swirling pattern that almost filled her forehead, and carried on down her almost hawk-like nose. Her dark auburn hair hung dankly, damp from the sweat of her fever. Her face was long and narrow, her sunken cheeks accentuating the high cheekbones. Her most striking feature though was her eyes. Oddly out of proportion, they seemed to fill her face, A dark blue-grey, the colour of flint. She was not conventionally beautiful by any means but certainly striking. He allowed himself a moment to be grateful he wasn't a younger man, followed by a pang of anxiety. Women were rare among the Grey wardens and he hoped that a lone woman among the younger members of his order wouldn't cause problems.

He shook himself mentally as he realised that the Keeper, Marethari, was introducing him to Eirwen. He steeled himself as he explained firmly to Eirwen what was wrong with her, that the taint she carried would kill her. He went on to tell her that the only way she could save herself was by joining the Grey Wardens. Her eyes flickered briefly as she informed him that she would not join his order out of pity. Biting back a flash of irritation at her pride he explained that his offer was not charity, that it was made because he truly thought she would be an asset to the Grey wardens. He was brutally honest with her, joining the Wardens would take her away from her clan to join the fight against the Darkspawn. She couldn't hide the anguish in her eyes as she turned to Marethari and asked if it was the clan's wish that she join the Grey Wardens. It was with a heavy heart that the Keeper told her of the Blight gathering in the south of the danger it presented and of the agreement that the Dalish has to aid the Grey Wardens in times of need. Eirwen turned back to Duncan and inclined her head slightly, "Very well, if it is my duty I will join your order."

Duncan crossed his arms across his chest and bowed to her, "I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us but they have always served with distinction."

Duncan sighed as he watched her make her farewells to her clan. He was pleased to see that she didn't lose her composure but it saddened him to recruit her in such circumstances. Over the years he had often conscripted recruits, snatching them from the jaws of vengeful authorities plus they had occasional volunteers. The conscripts were usually relieved to escape punishment and the volunteers were full of enthusiasm, caught up in tales of heroism. He gathered his few belongings together and carefully packed the herbal medicine that the Keeper had prepared, under no illusion that Eirwen was very sick indeed and that he needed to get her to Ostagar as quickly as he could before the taint in her blood overtook her. He waited for her at the edge of the Dalish camp and with only one backward glance she joined him and they were underway.

Duncan glanced down at his small companion and cursed softly. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts and she had been so quiet he hadn't paid her any attention. As he looked at her properly for the first time in hours he could see that she was bathed in sweat and trembling with fatigue. It was a couple of hours before sunset and he had hoped to push on for at least another hour but it was clear that she needed to rest. He stopped abruptly and scanned the landscape. Eirwen was so busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other that it was a few moments before she realised he was no longer at her side and stopped, looking around in confusion.

"Come, We'll set up camp over there" said Duncan, nodding at a small clearing.

Eirwen looked up at the sky, "The sun will not set for a few more hours, shouldn't we push on?"

"The general idea is to get you to Ostagar in one piece, not march you into the ground before we arrive." He smiled at her, "We will be up early enough tomorrow, an hour will make no difference."

He headed into the clearing and rummaged in his pack. "Here," he said passing her the bottle Marethari had given him, "Your Keeper gave me this for you. You look like you need it. I'll set up camp and get some food ready, you rest and give that medicine some time to take its effect."

Too weary to argue, Eirwen merely nodded and took the bottle. Her hands unsteady, she struggled briefly with the cork then she swallowed some of the bitter tasting medicine and carefully replaced the cork. She sank to the ground and, feeling slightly guilty, watched Duncan set up the camp. He'd obviously done this before she mused as she watched him work quickly and efficiently. She felt confused about him; he was a Shem but unlike any she had ever met before. Not that she had a wealth of experience she thought wryly. In her small experience, Shem varied from wary and contemptuous to downright hostile and Duncan was none of those things. She sensed a hardness in him, one that she understood, a steel core of duty but she sensed he was also honourable and that the fact she was Dalish truly didn't matter to him. She wondered if the other Grey wardens would be like him or if he was the exception. A new thought struck her; if he had recruited her then maybe not all of the other Wardens were Shems. She was still musing on this when Duncan came and squatted down in front of her.

"I owe you an apology Eirwen" he said. There it is again, that stillness the Keeper mentioned, that sense of waiting

"An apology?" For what? Did he lie? Can joining the Wardens not cure me?

Duncan grimaced, "I did not realise how hard the pace I set was on you, how you were tiring; I was too absorbed in my own thoughts. I am sorry."

The tips of her ears flushed slightly, "I think it's I who should apologise," she replied softly, "I am not usually so weak." Aagh, now he thinks you are weak and questions if he chose rightly

"Exactly so, and there is no need to apologise. You are ill and it would not do for either of us to underestimate the taint that ails you. For my part I undertake to be more considerate and adjust our pace accordingly. Will you undertake to tell me if you are struggling?" Once more, that flash of pride. Will her common sense win out or is she too stuborn to allow concessions to her sickness?

"I...very well, I will tell you if I'm finding it hard."

Duncan smiled warmly at her. "Good. Now come, there is a fire going and you should eat." He arose and held out his hand to her. Somewhat hesitantly, Eirwen took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. "It's not very exciting, just bread and dried meat but it will keep your strength up." He nodded to the bottle in her other hand, "It helped?"

Eirwen pulled a face, "It did."

Duncan chuckled, "And like all good medicine it tastes foul, eh?"

Eirwen had to smile as she agreed with him, "Indeed it does."

They sat quietly by the small fire he'd made as they ate. It was a mild night and Duncan hadn't erected any tents but just laid out two neat bedrolls, one each side of the fire. Once the food was gone he'd talked a little about Ostagar which turned out to be where they were heading. He said that the King of Ferelden was assembling an army there to meet the Darkspawn horde. He had a pleasant, soothing voice and Eirwen felt herself starting to drift. She was faintly embarassed when he noticed her eyes dropping and suggested that they settle down to sleep but too drowsy to offer any protest and with a mumbled "Good night" she had curled up in her blanket and fallen asleep in moments.

She awoke early feeling feverish again. She glanced across at Duncan who seemed to be fast asleep. She sniffed and pulled a face. She stank! Quietly she rose and fetched Marethari's medicine, gagging slightly as she swallowed it. The small noise was enough to waken Duncan, who sat up yawning, a look of sympathy on his face. "That bad, eh?"

She grinned and held out the bottle, "See for yourself."

He held his hands up, smiling, "I'm prepared to take your word for it." At last, she's starting to relax a bit

Eirwen gathered up her weapons, "I think I can hear a stream over there," she gestured through the trees, "I'm going to freshen up a bit."

He nodded and rose, "I'll get some breakfast started."

Eirwen headed through the trees and it wasn't long before she found a small stream. The water was cold but clean. Gratefully she sank to her knees and, with a quick glance around to make sure she was unobserved, removed her breastplate. She cursed herself for forgetting to bring soap but was glad enough to be able to wash herself down. At least now she didn't smell as bad. Dragging her fingers through her hair she frowned. It felt lank and dirty. That she had been so feverish hadn't helped. Ugh, it's like rats tails. On an impulse she reached for a dagger and hacked a great hank off. Dropping it to the ground in disgust she persevered, cutting her hair away. By the time she had finished she wasn't completely bald but she wasn't far off, what little hair she had left was cropped closely to her head. Donning her breastplate again she headed back to their small camp. As she arrived back she flushed as Duncan gaped at her. Self-consciously she ran her hand over her shorn head.

"This is more practical," she muttered. Damn, I bet my ears have gone red.

"Er ... yes, I'm sure it is" Maker's breath man, don't stare! Duncan busied himself with the pot over the fire, ladling porridge into two bowls.

"You think it's looks stupid," Eirwen accused quietly, watching him intently.

Duncan handed her a bowl, the porridge steaming in the cool air. "Not at all." Careful, she's gone still again and she is a woman after all.

He looked at her steadily, "Actually it suits you, your head is...shapely." He paused and gathered up his own porridge. He smiled at her apologetically, "I'm sorry I stared so, it was just unexpected." He heaved a mental sigh of relief as she nodded abruptly and attacked her porridge.

"You found a stream then?" he asked her as they ate.

"Mmhmm", she nodded, "It's not far. I...er...cut it off because..." she paused, the tips of her ears flushing red again, "I forgot to bring any soap," she finished sheepishly, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her bowl.

Duncan shovelled more porridge into him mouth so that he wouldn't laugh. After a moment to compose himself he replied, "I have soap, you're welcome to use it." Ah, so proud this one. she refuses to ask for anything.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "Thank you."

He smiled at her, "It will grow back in no time at all. Although it really does suit you, and like you say, it's practical."

She shrugged, "We'll see."

Breakfast over, Duncan left her to break up camp whilst he headed to the stream...armed with soap.