A note: Co-written with Gaspode5

The End part 1

Riordan leaned closer to the fire cradling his glass in his hands, he found himself searching the flames as if looking for answers, there was none, had never been. At least he was wise enough to recognise that now. Bitterly he tossed back the remainder of his drink.

Getting up to pour himself another glass he noticed that beneath the bottle was a crudely carved phallus. Gently he traced the contours with an inward smile. This table had been in another room once and Duncan's jab in his ribs had almost caused him to cut himself to the bone. He remembered that after the questioning, Duncan had added the initials of the current Warden Commander below the masterpiece, as if making amends. That piece of information had been carefully scratched out.

Riordan glanced across the room; Duncan was still sitting on the edge of the threadbare couch where the new Grey Warden was lying. The young man had grown tall and strong, just as Riordan had predicted long ago. He knew why Duncan had made him a Warden, a much better reason than Riordan's own. Memories he had tried so hard to keep at bay crowded him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to collect himself. A Fereldan Warden at the joining today had asked him if he knew Duncan from the man's time in Orlais. 'Just briefly, there are a lot of Wardens in Orlais' he had answered automatically. The man had nodded and turned to watch the game of who would live and who would die. Riordan had noticed that unlike in Montsimmard, no bets were placed.

'Only briefly', that's what he had said with a shrug. He didn't even remember when he had become such a casual liar, perhaps he had always been, and a shrug was always expected of an Orlesian. He was always taken for an Orlesian these days, getting compliments for his nice grasp of Fereldan.

He turned to look at Duncan. The man was leaning over the new Warden who seemed to be stirring. Alistair's eyes fluttered open, caught Duncan's and blinked twice before he fell into exhausted sleep. He would still feel like crap in the morning, Riordan mused, but he recognised the relief you felt sliding into the Fade where the pain might not follow. Come to think of it, it seemed that he had spent an unreasonable part of his youth knocked out or injured in some way or other. Then again, if the Maker had given him a sturdy physique, a thick skull and a penchant for violence and strong liquor, wouldn't it have been a sin to waste such gifts?

Duncan gently drew the blanket over the young man's shoulders and rested his hand on his head as if in benediction before heading over to pour himself a glass. Riordan marvelled that, after all these years and joining rituals, Duncan still had so much heart and hopes for his recruits. He himself had not bothered to recruit in a long time and no one had dared to prompt him. He performed the joining when required but always avoided learning the names or anything about the recruits until the ritual was over.

Riordan stared back at the flames. "Every time I partake in a joining I keep remembering ours, the ones who died, the ones who lived."

"I think we all do. I also remember the disappointment on the Senior Warden's face when you pulled through."

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Riordan's mouth. "What did he used to call me again? 'The Malfaisant'?"

"I think it was 'Malcreant' actually."

"Yes I think you are right." Riordan nodded. "That has a familiar ring to it."

"But I must say, in my entire career, I have never seen anyone so sick from a joining."

Riordan made a face. "It was horrible. I truly thought I would die. There should be a warning on that cup. 'Never mix joining-juice with alcohol.'"

"There probably should. Have you kept your vow never to let someone join when drunk?"

Riordan nodded almost as if to himself, held up his glass and eyed the liquid inside it, turning it slowly. "I'm such a bloody hypocrite." Finishing the inspection of his glass, Riordan toasted the other Warden and drained it. "I think I hated you from that day."

Duncan turned his dark gaze to look him straight in the eye. "No you didn't, that came later."

A note2: If you have been reading 'Glass Darkly' you may remember that I thought Riordan barged in and crowded my story, well he did! When i played the game the first time I was like 'finally a real warden -YES HELP ME'!' only to find myself wishing 'Die die die, it's obvious, and you're useless anyway!'. Then I wrote the story for FF and really had to listen to every conversation I found myself baffled by Riordan and the way his view of the Wardens seemed to clash violently with Alistair's. Suddenly a real live person, complete with a history came to life (had to kill him naturally, it was an in-game story after all...) Anyway, the idea of what life might have been like and the persons who became Wardens when there had not been a Blight in 400 years. Four hundred years! Thats like from now and almost to the medievals. A scam? Another day another dollar? It might have ended there had I not found a partner in crime -the Gaspode5. Together we have started compiling this story.I consider it a joint-venture. Many times when I've almost given up, it's bloody hard to write your own plot, I'm not exactly Hemingway, only to find Gaspode filling in the blanks. I dare you to guess which lines are mine... Enough said/written! Here is the first chapter, we decided to call it The End!

Disclaimer: No Bioware Character belong to me, unfortunately...