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Morrigan knew the group were not simple soldiers when she saw them step into the Wilds.
For one, the soldiers sent out to scout the Wilds did not intentionally search out the darkspawn seeking a fight. Soldiers were also not, to her knowledge, in the business of collecting the blood of the creatures. And yet here this group of four well-armed and questionably trained warriors were, stalking the Wilds in search of darkspawn and something more.
Her mother had sent to the ruins to watch the soldiers, to gauge how they lay fair against the coming hoard. So it was only right that she followed this strange group to see who they were, what they were up to, and how far they would march. Would they even live long enough to complete their goal, or would the beasts of the Wilds or the foul darkspawn kill them first?
She followed them in the form of the animals. They have no reason to think much of a bird perched in the trees or a mouse scurrying on the ground.
The longer Morrigan followed the group, the more certain she became that the group were Grey Wardens. She could see a certain… how should she put it… familiar enmity between them and the darkspawn. Just as these warriors seemed to seek the darkspawn, the straggling monstrosities seemed to seek their group out just the same, as if they were tracking the warriors, as if they sensed them, in a way only Wardens and darkspawn could feel each other.
It made a certain degree of sense. With the blight upon them, it was only natural that the Grey Wardens had joined the foolhardy king's army. They were the only components in this war necessary to win. All the others could be removed, added, or shuffled around with different armies of different lands, but the blight would not end without the Wardens fighting alongside them.
Still, that was not enough to satiate her curiosity. They sought out more than the darkspawn; she wished to know what. What were they looking for? Where were they going?
Morrigan was certain that two of the humans were new, and this was part of some initiation test. While both men seemed confident with their weapons, they seemed like frightened schoolboys whenever they came upon a darkspawn. On the contrary, the other human and the small elf had confidence in them, suggesting this was not their first time facing horrors. However, it was rather curious that out of the group, the elf of all people led them and not a human. She knew about the disparity between the two races, even in the Wilds. But perhaps the elf had some seniority over the other.
He was far more skilled than the two recruits. Morrigan observed that he carried his sword and shield like extensions of himself, blocking, parrying, and attacking with a fluidity that he somehow made look easy. Morrigan was curious about him.
She was never close enough to hear what the elf said, hardly close enough to ever get a good look at any of them; she could only truly differentiate the human men from her distance by the colors of their heads and the armor they wore. The elf was much shorter than the others, making it easy to pick him out from the rest, even if one ignored the obvious ears. But even without hearing what was being said, she could assume the topic would have bored her regardless.
The elven Warden continued to raise her interest and curiosity as she watched. As he gathered a bundle of flowers, she wondered if he was trying to be romantic, but when she went to investigate them, she was pleasantly amused to see the white and red flower was one such ingredient used for treating a taint-born sickness. It was not a sickeningly sweet romantic gesture, then, but just a clever boy recognizing the value of a wildflower. Then there was the treasure the missionary left that the Warden tracked down—better it be used by them rather than the darkspawn.
Eventually, after hours of wandering and battling, they finally reached their supposed destination: the abandoned Warden outpost.
Their little leader spread them out—they had just finished a tough battle with the darkspawn, and it seemed he wanted to make sure none were lying in wait. Only once he was seemingly satisfied did the group reconvene in front of the battered, broken chest.
She took to her own form once again as the Wardens muttered to themselves over the empty cache, standing above them on the risen path of the ruins tower.
“Well, well, what have we here?” she asked with an amused tone at how all four men snapped to attention at her sudden appearance, and so she began her descent down the path at a languid pace. She already knew who they were and likely what they came in search of. But where was the fun if she told them directly? “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of an easy prey?”
As she descended, the elf also moved, coming to meet her at the bottom. One of the humans reached out to stop him from getting too close.
She reached the bottom, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at them, a spider watching the flies caught in her web. “What say you, hm?” she asked, her gaze on the elf as she waited for him alone to answer. “Scavenger or intruder?”
While the human men looked visibly unnerved and wary, the elven man stood firm, showing neither fear nor anger at her appearance and accusations. Now that she was here, she could get a good, proper look at the man. He was rather cute, in a way, his features were softer, rounder than the others. Shorter than herself, slim despite being a warrior, with soft, blue eyes.
“I am neither,” he said, and now that Morrigan was close enough to truly hear him, she noted a softness to his voice—soft, but not weak. “I am a Grey Warden; our order once owned this tower.”
This confirmed her suspicions and observations. Good. She also did not miss how the two in the back looked uncertain at being called Wardens, making her more certain they were newly recruited.
Still, she offered a short, sharp laugh. “Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desecrated corpse.” One of the humans, the fellow senior Warden, if she were to guess, looked like he was about to speak, but Morrigan cut him off before he could even start. "I have watched your progress for some time.” With that confession, she began walking, circling them, aware that the elf was trailing after her as she moved. “’ Where do they go?’ I wondered, ‘Why are they here?’” she echoed, reaching the edge of the stone platform overlooking the Wilds and turning to face them again. “And now you disturb ashes none have touched in so long. Why is that?”
“Don’t answer that,” the other Warden whispered to the elf. “She looks chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”
Morrigan rolled her eyes, utterly unimpressed with him. “Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”
“Yes, swooping is bad,” the man retorted, his words dripping in sarcasm.
One of the recruits tugged at him like a child would their mother’s skirt. “She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is,” he accused, his panic not even hidden in his voice. “She’ll turn us into toads!” The other recruit looked visibly sick at the thought as if Morrigan’s presence was more frightening than the darkspawn they’d fought to reach here.
“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies. Have you no minds of your own?” she scoffed, shaking her head at them before looking back to the elf. He had remained quiet after identifying himself as a Warden, and she had an inkling he was content to listen more than he was to talk. He did not look bothered by the accusations—right as they may have been—his recruits threw out; he watched her with curiosity and only a healthy amount of suspicion. “You there,” she decided, gesturing to him. “Elves are not frightened little boys. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine.”
He watched her for a second more, his gaze briefly flickering to his companion, the one who had told her not to answer, before he took a step forward and bowed his head respectfully at her. “I am Elio. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
She was pleasantly impressed by his manners and allowed a small smile to grace her face. “Now that is a proper, civil greeting, even here in the Wilds,” she praised, watching the way the elf—the way Elio—perked up at her pleasant tone. “You may call me Morrigan.”
The other Warden tugged at Elio once again. “You’re treading on dangerous waters here; she’s a witch, Elio; be careful.”
She ignored him, crossing her arms over her chest once again. “Shall I guess your purpose?” she asked them, letting her gaze sweep the group. “You sought something in that chest, something that is no longer here?”
The older Warden’s gaze snapped to her immediately as she said that. “Oh, something that is here no longer, huh? You stole them, didn’t you?” he accused, already reaching for his sword. If he wanted to escalate the situation, well, Morrigan was sure he’d quickly regret it. You’re… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!”
“How very eloquent,” Morrigan snarked, taking satisfaction in how even Elio looked utterly unimpressed with the man’s words. “Tell me, how exactly does one steal from dead men?”
“Quiet easily, it seems,” the man gritted out, only letting go of his sword when Elio rested his hand on his arm. He didn’t look any less tense, however. “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them, now.”
The ‘or else’ went unspoken.
Maybe he expected his words and his posturing to intimidate her, but Morrigan was not some little girl who was terrified of a big man with a sword. She had seen far more frightening things than this Warden.
“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them,” Morrigan countered, narrowing her eyes at him. “Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”
Elio frowned and stepped forward again, placing himself between her and his companion as if to be a living buffer for them. “If it was not you, do you know who removed them?” he asked her.
She uncrossed her arms, bringing them to hang at her sides. “’Twas my mother, in fact.”
That earned a look of curiosity from the elf, and she could see in his expression that he had so many questions he wanted to ask from that one statement. But he decided on only one. “I see. Would you be so kind as to take us to her?”
Morrigan smirked, laughing a little. “Now, there is a sensible request. I like you.”
The other Warden scowled. “I’d be careful,” he warned Elio, trying to whisper, unaware of how loud he still was. “First’s ‘I like you,’ and then zap. Frog time.”
“She’ll put us all in the pot; she will, just you watch,” one of the recruits whimpered, and Morrigan was unsure how someone so cowardly could be a Warden.
The other Warden recruit slapped him on the back. “If the pot is warmer than this forest, it’ll be a welcome change.”
Rolling her eyes at their banter, Morrigan looked back to Elio with a raised brow, and Elio only gave her a helpless shrug as if to tell her, ‘Sorry, they are like this.’ She frowned and turned. “Follow me, then, if it pleases you.”
The trip back to her mother’s hut took a while, far longer than she would have liked in their presence.
Elio was a fine companion, but the humans were not so much. They filled the walk with whispers of what they thought Morrigan would do to them, what they thought a Witch of the Wild did, talking as if she could not hear their accusations of cannibalism or dark magic—and who were they to decide what was ‘dark magic’ and not? Their leader tried to keep the peace, but Morrigan could not wait to be rid of them.
Her mother was… well, her usual self. Sarcasm, pointed remarks, and vague advice. She took satisfaction that the others were just as unnerved by her mother as they had been of her.
She watched her mother verbally knock them around for a bit before handing them their precious documents and was then forced to escort them back to their own camp because they were her ‘guests.’ Oh, how Morrigan had loathed that; they had been miserable company taking them to her mother, and the trip to their own camp was longer.
It was well after nightfall when she made it home. As far as she was concerned, her dealings with the Wardens were over. The Ferelden army would fight the darkspawn, win or lose; they were no longer her concern.
Then, her mother dragged Elio and the annoying Warden, both badly wounded, back to their hut after the battle.