Evane's Journal Entry 7-8

Another week went by. Alistair kept himself composed around the other recruits and the Wardens. After the Blight was over people flooded to Weisshaupt wanting to become a legendary Warden, just like the one who ended the Blight. The Gray Wardens were once again warriors of great skill to be honored and revered. 'And it's all because of you love.' It had become a little easier as time went on and as he knew he would soon be with her again. The dreams were getting stronger. In a week or two he would leave his stuff to the Wardens and head out to the Deep Roads. Alistair had started a training session for the newest of the recruits, having been one of the two Wardens alive in Fereldan during a Blight. The Blight before theirs was now over four centuries ago and all the Wardens from that time had long since died in the Deep Roads.

It was hard to train farmers and merchants to be warriors. People who didn't know a thing about fighting let alone fighting Darkspawn. Not that there was that much of a difference. The only thing that set Darkspawn apart from any other animal was their physical traits. They looked horrible and smelled even worse. 'No Maker could wish this on his creations.' Evane had told him that after she found out how the Chantry says Darkspawn came into being. 'It's not like I spurn all religions that are not mine. It's just I refuse to believe that anything who made man, be it the Maker or the Creators, could watch their creations suffer like this. For this long…' He missed hearing her views on the Chantry. To be perfectly honest he missed hearing her views on anything. He remembered Evane speaking of her religion. She had told him how when one of their kind passed beyond they would plant a tree over their grave. 'New life springing from old.' She had said. He missed her so much. He laid on his bed again. He had convinced the others to plant a tree outside the grand tomb they made for her. 'Evane would have hated that being her final resting place. It was so dull and cut off from nature.' Of all the things he knew about her he knew most that she loved the forest. She loved being able to climb trees and speak with the animals. If they ever spoke back he never knew. He gave a small sigh. Why wasn't the taint wasn't taking over faster? It was nearly unbearable. He grabbed the journal from its hidden spot under his pillow. For now, he found solace in just reading her words. He opened the book again. Her familiar scent once more filling the room.

"Entry 7

I don't…
I can't…
I…
Creators help me."

That was right after the army was lost at Ostagar. She must have thought it was as much her fault as he thought it was his. She never said anything. 'All that time silently dying with guilt. While I… while I just complained.'

"Entry 8

This should probably be entry 7 but whatever. I just don't care anymore. I feel like my world was just torn apart and thrown back together just so it could be torn apart again. The entire… All those people… Mythal give me strength." He could practically feel the breath she took to calm herself before her writing continued. "The army was defeated and we suffered a great loss at the hands of the Darkspawn. Many brave and noble warriors were lost that day and though it is not my custom they must be honored as befitting warriors of their stature. I will say a last prayer for them in the tongue of the Maker.

Blessed are those who stand before
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.
Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.
In their blood the Maker's will is written.
Draw your last breath, my friends,
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.
Rest at the Maker's right hand,
And be forgiven.

Maker, forgive us.

To keep my mind at peace I pray that Mythal watches over their journey to the other side. And I give you the song that we all will have sung to us one day.

Elder your time is come
now I am filled with sorrow
weary eyes need resting
heart has become grey and slow
in waking sleep is freedom
we sing, rejoice
we tell the tales
we laugh and cry
we love one more day

It was Logain's fault. And I swear to Elgar'nan I will see him pay. 'Never again shall we submit.'"

Alistair closed the book again. Just resting there in the silence and stillness of the night. 'She didn't have to do that. She didn't have to recite the Chant for them. She had only been learning about the Maker's Word for a week at the time. She didn't even have to translate the song for the men but she did. She cared. She wanted them to find peace whether it be with the Maker or the Creators. It hadn't mattered to her. She put aside her differences and she just loved. Like she always did.' He let those thoughts carry him off to sleeps hollow bliss. And for one night since the archdemon was slain he did not dream of the Call or the Darkspawn Taint.