The sword was part of him.

Will sat slightly apart from the others and lovingly drew the whetstone against the long lines of the blade. The Cousland sword. Every little nick in the blade was a memory, the feel of the hilt in his hand a tangible link to his past. He inspected every part of the sword in minute detail, looking for any weakness in the grey iron.

Holding it up to the light of the setting sun he watched as the rays danced along the blade like liquid fire and remembered the sword in the hands of his father. The recollection brought a sad smile to his lips and he sighed with an old sorrow as he slowly brought the sword down to the rest in his lap...his fingers idly tapping the sword grip thoughtfully. Memories surfacing...

His father standing with arms crossed, sword strapped to his side, as he oversaw the training of his knights.

A teenage Fergus proudly practising his sword craft in the castle courtyard...

His mother smiling as a grinning, 7 year old Will struggled to lift the sword with both hands...laughing as he triumphantly held it aloft, before it came crashing back to the floor.

This weapon was his link to the past and it grounded him in the present.

Will ran a grimy hand through his dark hair and straightened, rolling his shoulders to work out the knots in his back and turned his attention to the hushed Dalish camp, eyeing the aravels with curiosity. He'd heard tales of the Dalish, of course, but he hadn't expected his rather romantic notion of their roaming lifestyle to be squashed within moments of the group entering the camp.

Laying aside his sword, Will tilted his head to one side and thoughtfully pondered the Dalish people... Suspicion, disease, a culture in decline. And yet, a people capable of creating such beauty. Their weapons and jewellery unmatched by any Ferelden work he'd ever seen, their stories beautiful, alien and compelling. Ancient and haunting melodies clung in desperation to these people and their way of life...Will felt it and knew he would mourn if it were lost.

Will glanced over at his companions and noting they were occupied, surreptitiously rifled through his back pace until he found his notebook and a stick of charcoal. Opening the book, he watched as a few Dalish children played with their hounds close to the nearest aravel and his fingers moved quickly over the pages as they sketched out what he was seeing. Simple joy. He didn't need to look down at the page...his experienced hands simply translated what his eyes perceived...simple lines had life breathed into them as he drew.

He felt the tension ease in his shoulders as his mind relaxed. He thought back to his brother peering over his shoulder as he sketched trading ships sailing through the Waking Sea. He remembered furiously sketching the dancers and jugglers at one of his mother's banquets. He smiled as he recalled proudly showing his father his latest portrait.

Completing his sketch of the Dalish children, he idly flicked to a fresh page of his notebook and tried to recollect the words Lanaya had told him earlier in that evening. He'd been struck by their importance. "You she...humans... don't often understand." She'd told him when he'd pressed a point she'd made...his smile bright...disarming...charming. "We are a scattered people. Divided in many ways. Yet we live by a shared code...something that binds us...completes us. Vir Tanadahl...the way of the three trees."

Will's eyes had brightened at this. He had burned with the sudden thrill of new knowledge...his fingers itching to record it. Lanaya's eyes had looked far away, as if in a dream as she recited her wisdom. "...Vir Assan...the Way of the Arrow. Fly straight and never waver. Vir Bor'Assan...the Way of the Bow. You must bend, but never break. Vir Adahlen...the Way of the Forest. Together you are stronger than the one." Her voice had trailed off after this, and after making uncomfortable apologies she had withdrawn, her eyes still starry.

He pondered this new information as he thought of his companions. Morrigan was like the arrow, he mused. Never wavering. Direct...to a fault at times, he chuckled. The charcoal stick scribed her name in flowing script next to the code without Will truly realising it. Alistair...his friend. His companion in arms... was the Way of the Forest... in battle it seemed they were the same person... Two warriors in synchronisation. Their paths would circle that of the others in an elegant dance, keeping their companions at the centre of the group as they despatched the enemy...pulled them in...drew their wrath...protected... safeguarded the treasure in their midst. His elegant script flowed across the page. Leliana...the Way of the Bow. Forever adapting to the challenges of life and yet...

Will froze...and then turned...

"Lel-i-ana!" He exclaimed in frustration, slamming his book shut, as the Bard chuckled at his annoyance. Her face was inches from his own as she leaned in close behind him, her lips close to his cheek; eyes sparkling.

Leliana rolled her eyes and sank down beside him, making him edge aside slightly. "You're scribbling again? Why won't you ever show me what you're up to?" She demanded.

Will frowned. "I don'tscribble..." He maintained incredulously before his lips twitched into a mischievous smile. "...and I don't show you because I know it annoys you. Your pout is endearing." Leliana's eyes narrowed dangerously as he laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. " Will chuckled. "It's just a few notes to help me remember...I don't have your bard's training to recall everythingtold to me. " He tucked the book to the other side of him and tried to sidetrack her. "But tell me, what have you been up to?"

Leliana eyed him knowingly before her desire to share overtook her. "I was talking to Sarel...he's, well, one of their storytellers, I suppose. But, I got the impression that they only re-tell their songs and tales...they don't seem to create new ones."

"They're very concerned with preserving their culture." Will agreed, considering her words.

Leliana grinned suddenly, "Although the tales they do share are fascinating…maybe I'll compose my own one day, no? " Her arms began to gesture wildly as her enthusiasm grew and her voice took on a dramatic tone. "A tale of adventurers, bound by their need to recruit the noble Dalish to their cause, must traverse the forest, bypass the ancient ruins, get engrossed by the magical relics…" She rolled her eyes again. "…before defeating the beasts and returning the triumphant heroes."

Will sat up straighter and tried vainly to look disinterested. "Ruins? Relics?"

The bard chuckled at him and shook her head. "The forest is full of them, apparently. Sarel told me that the Tevinter Imperium once tried to invade this place. They even had an outpost. The Dalish hunters still find evidence of the battles….old armour, weapons…skeletons even." She beamed at him. "You do know we don't have time to poke into ever corner we come across tomorrow, don't you?"

"Sure…" Will's voice was distracted. "Absolutely…no wandering off this time."

Leliana pursed her lips thoughtfully…craning her neck to peer over at the note book laying beside his sword. "Sooo….now I've shared, will you let me see what you've been up to?"

Will blinked at her…shaking himself from his daydream…."No. I haven't finished tormenting you yet." He waved her away towards the others. "Go bother Alistair. Actually…" He smirked as he noticed the look on Morrigan's face staring daggers into his friend. "Gosave Alistair. Morrigan looks like she's about to kill him. "

Will watched Leliana's retreating back before twisting his face into a thoughtful expression. No…he thought. No distractions. What we're doing is too important. He tried ineffectively to make sense of what his life had become. How could he, a man who couldn't even save his own family….his parents and Oriana, little Oren…hope to stop the Blight?

His hand moved of its accord back to his sword hilt, grasping it tightly as he grimaced at the painful memories.

Jaw set, Will stood, sheathing the sword purposefully into the worn, leather scabbard belted at his waist. No room for doubt. He told himself. He walked towards the others, noting Alistair's red face with amusement, that far from saving Alistair, Leliana was instead teasing the man mercilessly.

There's no one else to do this. There's only us.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

So…Setrus? How do I thank you properly for all that you endure? The winging and the moaning and the loss of confidence…and you, always there to laugh at me and kick me up the back side. You're rather good at that, you know. ;-) Anyway…thank you for the read through…for the corrections and the suggestions…and for refusing to let me give up. Oh…and for the title of course!