Chapter Text
The group was quiet as Theron led them on a winding trail through the trees, save the occasional muffled cursing and clanking of metal whenever Alistair tripped over the uneven terrain.
“There should be a river up ahead. The Brecilian Passage,” Theron announced, speaking for the first time in a while. “We need to cross it, and then we can follow it out of the forest.”
He’d been quiet ever since what had happened with Zathrian in the ruins, Morrigan noted as she stepped easily over a branch half-hidden in the grass and detritus. And now their ragged group of idiots was making their way out of the forest after what felt like a month of endless trees and Dalish grudges. Of course, Theron called it home, so it was little wonder that he was subdued now they were returning to civilisation.
“Finally, we can be on our way to Ferelden’s next set of problems.” Zevran sighed, tipping his head back to bask in the infrequent sunlight that filtered down through the trees.
“It’s not like we’re trying to gather support and stop the Blight before it destroys Thedas or anything,” Alistair nodded, gaze firmly on the ground at his feet so he wouldn’t trip mid sentence. “Why does everyone have problems they can’t solve themselves?” He complained.
“Because we are the very people they need to solve them, my friend,” The Antivan grinned. “That or Ferelden is a very, very lazy country.”
“Tis,” Morrigan agreed with a dry grin. “Especially amongst the pampered nobility.” She added, feeling Alistair’s glare boring into the back of her neck, but she ignored him and continued to step lightly after Theron.
Soon the sound of rushing water reached them, and abruptly the trees tapered away down a riverbank, some overhanging the water to dip their branches into current. The river looked too wide for the group to simply wade through, perhaps too deep as well, judging from how swiftly the water rushed by them.
Theron studied the river critically for a moment, before tossing a stick in. The group watched as it sped merrily away downstream in the blink of an eye, and Sten sighed audibly.
“Morrigan, you don’t happen to know ice magic, do you?”
The witch frowned at Theron’s hopeful look.
“No. Why?”
Theron opened his mouth, but seemed to think better about whatever it was he was going to say, because he shook his head and shut his mouth again.
“Nevermind.” He muttered, leathers creaking as he rolled his shoulders and then began to walk downstream.
“Surely there is a bridge somewhere?” Sten grumbled as he stared at the river. Typical of them to be set back by a river , of all things.
Theron shrugged.
“Possibly, but the Dalish don’t often make and use shem bridges. The aravels are far too big to get across one safely.”
“Then how do you- Ohh , the ice magic.” Alistair realised.
“That’s rather inventive.” Leliana piped up, and Theron made a noncommittal noise as he continued walking, the group slowly trailing after him like a brood of ducklings.
“There’ll be a bridge somewhere on this river. I don’t know what state it’ll be in, though.”
“So long as we can cross it without it breaking, I’ll be happy with any sort of bridge.” Alistair replied cheerfully.
It took several minutes of walking but eventually the group found an old wooden bridge that had clearly been there a long time; some of the planks were rotted away, and the middle sagged dangerously close to the river’s surface.
“Sten, I hope you won’t be offended if I suggest you go last, yes?” Zevran tore his gaze away from the bridge to grin up at the Qunari. Sten glared back at him. “Excellent! We always have the best discussions.” The blond elf smiled as he carefully side-stepped away, putting Alistair and Theron between himself and the heavily armoured giant.
“I should probably go first, to test it out.” The Dalish elf spoke, even as the two Wardens frowned skeptically at the bridge.
“Why not Morrigan?” She isn’t weighed down by armour or weaponry.” Alistair suggested.
“Good idea, Alistair, why not go suggest that to her?”
Alistair peered over to where Morrigan was determinedly ignoring Leliana’s fashion advice with a murderous scowl on her face, and shook his head.
“No, no, uh, your idea is better.”
“It’s not, it contains slightly less chance of death.” Theron retorted.
“Fair enough.” The taller human shrugged, his plate armour rattling faintly.
Dudain nudged Theron’s leg and stared up at him accusingly.
“I’ll be fine, I promise.” The Dalish elf insisted, scratching behind one of the mabari’s ears reassuringly.
“If you wish, Wardens, I could be of use to you and test the bridge for you?” Zevran suggested, drawing their attention. Theron blinked at him.
“But you can’t swim. What if you fall in?” The ranger shot back, and Zevran quietly cursed himself.
“As you wish.” The blond nodded as he stepped back, watching with vague unhappiness along with the rest of the group as Theron took the first careful steps onto the bridge, a crude and simple thing held up solely by four damp ropes covered in moss and algae.
The ropes quivered under each slow step, and Theron soon used his bow as a makeshift staff to tap the damp wooden boards ahead to ensure they weren’t about to give way under the smallest amount of pressure. He could hear Dudain barking and whining behind him, but he didn’t look back.
By the time he was roughly halfway across, the nerves in his stomach had settled. The bridge was far from the safest way of crossing the river, but hopefully it would be able to bear even the weight of a Qunari in armour. He could hear the water rushing inches away from his feet, and could see it when he had to step over gaps where the boards had broken or rotted away to pathetic splinters that wouldn’t be able to take even the weight of a bird.
Once he was getting close to the other side of the bank, the bridge began to slope gently upwards under his feet where the ropes had slackened with age to make it sag in the middle. Theron had to move his weight to one side of the bridge to avoid a partially-rotted board, and that was the moment things went wrong.
The bridge shifted far more than it should have done under his newly placed weight. When he looked up at the riverbank his heart sank as he saw how badly the river had eroded its bank on that side, to the point where the wooden post that one of the ropes was tied to was mostly exposed to the open air. The rope that the boards were resting on, along with all of his body weight.
“Oh, fenedhis .” He had time to sigh as he watched the exposed post shift again further out into open air and away from the stability of the ground it had been hammered into far too long ago. There was no way he could run or jump to the riverbank, it was still too far away, and if he made any sudden movements the post would be jolted free. In fact, if he made any movements whatsoever the post would come free; it already was.
Instead, he calmly slung his bow back onto his shoulder and checked his pack was fastened securely around his waist. The bridge lurched dangerously underfoot, and water flowed around his right boot. Then he was tipped into the freezing cold water of the river, the shock like a slap in the face. The bubbling roar in his ears obscured any yells of surprise or dismay the watching group may have made behind him.
He surfaced quickly, breathing in deeply as he automatically tried to swim for the nearest bank, but the current was already sweeping him into the centre of the river and downstream.
“Theron!” He heard someone call amidst a cacophony of panicked barking and the river all around him. When he spared a wide-eyed look over he could see the rest of the group attempting to keep pace with him, but the current was far swifter than they were and also tireless, with no obstacles in it’s way. He could only watch as the others had little choice but to slow down and fall back. Even Dudain eventually tired of weaving through the trees that crowded the river’s edge.
Swearing internally so as not to waste precious energy and breath on speaking out loud, Theron tried again to swim with the current for one of the banks until something knocked forcefully against his hip underwater, unseen. He couldn’t help a cry of pain, and then spat out riverwater that threatened to choke him. A rock, presumably, or some other debris.
Above the noise of the river around him, Theron became slowly aware of another sound that was growing louder. A strange roaring that made his stomach cold on instinct. A waterfall, and there was no way he could avoid it short of some kind of miracle. He winced as the river continued to push him onwards to the falls, far quicker than he expected it would. Like the stick he’d thrown in earlier. No time to even think. He was helpless.
The water around him dropped away alarmingly, sickeningly fast, and he was spat over the falls without preamble or a convenient miracle.