There and Back Again Ch. 083-084

I was stunned, and the world around me went hazy; disarmed and panicked that the nearly-dead creature would fall on me, I pushed with my legs and scooted back until I bumped up against a wall. Every movement drew pain from my back, but my legs worked and I could still feel them, so I decided it was ribs I'd injured, not my spine. I sat against the wall, trying to collect myself; I saw Oghren finish off a tentacle and then perform a spectacular leap to bury his axe in the Broodmother's chest. With one final shriek, she fell still, and the remaining tentacles dropped to the ground, limp.

Alistair rushed over to me; kneeling in front of me and pulling off his gauntlets, he started poking and prodding, looking for injuries. I gasped as I reached out to stop him.

"Just a rib, I think. I'm okay." He turned to call out to Anders, and I hushed him. "Let him get to Sten and Jowan first. I'm really alright."

"You scared me, climbing up there."

"I scaredme."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now will you help me up? Let's go see how everyone else is doing."

"Forget it." Alistair reached down and gently slid his arms under me. I still gasped as he lifted – broken ribs hurt! – but it was bearable.

Out in front of the Broodmother's corpse, I could see Sten seated, head in his hands, as Anders finished healing Jowan's face. He was going to have a slight scar – apparently the tentacles had acid on them or something, and it made the healing harder – but strangely enough the scar actually suited him. He looked more rugged, somehow.

Oghren was ranting loudly about the state of his beard; the acid had eaten half of it away, and it was now completely lopsided and scruffy. He pulled on the one remaining braid as a few more hairs fluttered down to land on his chest piece. I could make out the words 'ancestors' and 'nug-humping' periodically, but the rest was just a mumbled mess. For my own sake, I tried really hard not to laugh.

When Anders finished up with Sten, he came over to check on me. He told me I'd really only bruised myself, and rather than expending even more mana, he handed me a health potion. I slammed it back, and felt better. Anders looked tired, and after another look around to ensure he'd gotten to everyone, he collapsed against a wall and almost immediately fell asleep.

The rest of us cleaned ourselves up, wiping acid and mucous and black blood off of weapons and armour. Sten retrieved my daggers for me, when I declared I wasn't getting anywhere near that corpse to get them myself. Zevran offered to trim Oghren's beard, and I lent him my scissors; when he was done, Oghren sported even red fuzz all over his face instead of the elaborate style he'd previously had. It was interesting, and I thought I liked it; Oghren seemed mostly irate that his beard flask no longer stayed put. I pulled out my little compact with a mirror, and shyly offered it to Oghren. He actually thanked me, before looking critically at himself.

He sighed. "My face is cold."

"It will grow back, my friend," Zevran declared. "You'll be back to your warm, irresistible self in no time."

"Keep your pants where I can see them, elf."

Handing my compact back, Oghren wandered away, muttering to himself. I exchanged looks with Zevran, and we both cracked up laughing.

We let Anders sleep for a couple of hours; he was grumpy, at first, when he woke, but looked dramatically better. He relented and drank a small Lyrium potion, and was positively cheerful afterwards. Jowan claimed his mana was fine, and declined.

Gathering ourselves, we finally got ready to move out past the Broodmother's corpse. Everyone was aware we'd run into Branka shortly, even Oghren, and he didn't even make any nasty comments when I brought it up.

And I wasn't wrong; we walked single-file down a narrow hallway, around a corner, and heard grinding as a door we hadn't seen rumbled to a close behind us, blocking the return path. I sighed, and Oghren swore. I turned in place until I spotted Branka, high up on a massive boulder off to our left. I nudged Aedan, and slowly everyone turned to face her.

"Shave my back and call me an elf! Branka? I knew you had to be alive, but I never thought we'd actually find you here." Everyone shuddered, I'm sure at the mental image of shaving Oghren's back.

"Oghren. It figures you'd eventually find your way here. Hopefully you can find your way back more easily." Oghren started to look uneasy, as he recalled me telling him Branka would react like that. Branka ignored him, turning to Aedan. "And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale-breath?"

Aedan took a step up to stand by Oghren, somewhat protectively. I knew he was still annoyed at him for being rude to me, but he was still one of our companions, and Aedan wasn't going to let anyone insult one of ours, drunk or not.

Oghren sputtered. "Be respectful, woman! You're talking to a Grey Warden!"

Branka raised one eyebrow skeptically, refusing to look at Oghren. "Ah, so an important errand-boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side."

Sereda stepped forward, face red with anger. "You shall not talk about my father that way! He gave you everything, and you repaid him by slaughtering your entire house in your mad quest to find the Anvil of the Void!"

Branka looked at her wryly. "Ah, and a Princess. How precious. If you're here, clearly things are even worse than I thought. And I thought Oghren was the only one with Daddy issues."

Oghren positively growled. "You are impossible! This Grey Warden's come all the way from the surface to ask your help in choosing Endrin's successor."

Branka snorted. "I don't care if the assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne." I giggled at the image.Internally, of course, because out loud would just be rude."Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world-"

Aedan interrupted. "Yes, yes, the Anvil of the Void. We know! You want to make more golems. You gave your friends – your lover! – to the darkspawn to breed more darkspawn to run the gauntlet of traps. You're mad and obsessed, we get it."

Sereda stood beside him, her arms crossed, hands clenched. "You will pay for what you've done here."

Branka looked on, unimpressed. "There is only one way out, Warden, Princess. Forward. Through Caridin's maze and out to where the Anvil waits."

She went to turn away, but Oghren called out to her before she could. "What has this place done to you? I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance."

She turned her head slightly, showing just her profile. "I am your Paragon." And then she disappeared.

To his credit, Oghren came up to me right away. "I...By the Stone, what happened to her?" He was looking at me intently, and it occurred to me he was seriously asking me the question.

"I don't know, Oghren. Nothing happened to her to make her this way, I don't think. I think she became obsessed, and let her obsession over-rule her good sense. I suspect you didn't blindly support her; you saw her as Branka, not some almighty deity, and dared to have your own opinion. So she found Hespith, who didn't see Branka, but only the Paragon, and followed wherever Branka led. She didn't bring you with her on her search, because she knew you would stop her. I'm...I'm sorry, Oghren."

He kicked a pebble near his foot with his heavy boots, never making eye contact with me. I looked down at the top of his head.

"I suppose I..." he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"It's okay, Oghren. You needed someone to hate, someone to blame, since Branka wasn't there to be angry with. I get it."

He finally looked up and met my gaze. "Well good then. Now we can just move past all this emotional bronto-spew. I'm sure you and the pike-twirler over there have your smalls in a twist to get back to Orzammar. Can't polish the ol' anvil until we get there, am I right? Heh heh."

I grinned and he harrumphed in my direction before gripping his axe and heading off towards the only opening. I squawked. "Oghren, wait! There are traps, damn you!"

He paused only long enough for everyone else to pull themselves together and form up.

Alistair turned to me. "So that was his apology?"

I laughed. "I'll take it. Probably the closest he's ever come to apologising for something."

He shook his head, kissed my cheek softly, and then grinned and whispered, "Wanna polish my anvil?"

I choked, triggering a coughing fit; he just laughed, shouldered his shield, and headed to the front of the group with a blush and a smile on his face.