Varric tensed in shock when Gwen hugged him, then grinned.

[color=007236]"Whoa baby, you gotta buy me dinner first,"[/color] he joked, [color=007236]"But, hey, we should find out more about the flower myths, and there's no one more knowledgeable about the old tales than my dear, sweet mother."[/color]

He grinned before glancing over at Laciel.

[color=007236]"And you're welcome as well. As they say, the more the better."[/color]

He winked.

[color=007236]"And I shall serenade us as we walk, too,"[/color] he said, grabbing his lute from his back, [color=007236]"I shall sing the tale of-"[/color]

He sneezed. Somewhere, Ezra had made fun of him. He'd get him back later.

[color=007236]"Excuse me. I'll sing a tale of Garn, the legendary Smithknight."[/color]

Varric had told Laciel this tale before. It emphasised Garn's legendary ingenuity and intellect, traits Varric knew Laciel would look up to. Varric cleared his throat, before singing.

[i][color=007236]"In a land of trouble and turmoil,
There was a king no one could foil,
A tyrant whose rage was hot as a coil, 
The tyrant named King Doyle.

Well Garn had lived in that land, 
And left footprints in the sand.
And he was angry, please understand,
At that viscious tyrant of a man.

So Garn he gathered his courage.
And Garn, he gathered his blades.
And Garn, he gathered his hammer,
And Garn, he showed the king what he made.

And Garn, he got an audience,
With the Tyrant King Doyle,
And Garn, has been told everyday since,
For he popped the king like a boil.

He fell on him with armor,
A most wondrously made device,
Armor that could spew fire,
Armor that could spew ice.

And the tyrant he fought and he fought,
But against Garn the king couldn't win,
And Garn got what he sought.
He gave freedom to his kingdom.

And still. We tell his great story.
He who won with mind and not might.
And his tales may be a bit gory.
But he is Garn the Smith Knight."[/color][/i]