Perhaps it was a bit wrong that he felt a thrill of excitement and satisfaction. Finally, a fight that he could participate in, against enemies that he knew and understood and was well precised against. Not to mention that he did not have to run after his less strategically minded companions (he did not really mind, as they were not stupid and still effective - even if they went about it in a way he would not). It was even likely that he would actually have enemies his own height.
So, he was fairly eager to get down to business, slicing and dicing Darkspawn like the old days. Even though his back gave a twinge of psychosomatic pain, more the memory of pain than any actual pain itself, he pulled out his greatsword and moved to the front. Greywardens were certainly handy, with their Darkspawn sensing trick they could do. There should be more of them down in the Deep Roads, it would keep many good Dwarves from unnecessary deaths.
It did not bother him the sorts of people they were accumulating. While he did not think fond thoughts of the two girls that burned down his store, he did not hate them either. Stores are meant to be rebuilt, especially since if they had not done it, he probably would have. He recognized a surprising number of them, including Jill. Based on the way the young girl Dwarf was looking at him on occasion, he had a feeling he should remember her but despite honest tries to drudge up any memories related to her, he could not. She did look somewhat familiar, but at least he knew that he could not be her father. He also somewhat attributed the familiarity as a facet of her being a Dwarf, as at this point, he knew most of the surfacers. Either in person of by extension through Gorim, most dwarves that find their way into Denerim pass through one of their shops.
Once he was at the front of the group, having passed by the familiar, strangely familiar, and becoming familiar faces, he moved into and opening stance. Sword point was down and at an angle, ready to sweep up at a moment's notice, while he planted his feet and redistributed his weight. He did not need a shield, as he relied on his armor, allies, and sword for that. His armor did not look like much, although it was one of his proudest works. Funny how he made it to fit himself, huh? His old armor, formerly displayed in his shop, he had left with his cousin with firm admonishment against selling it.