Hi! This is Pandi, I asked my friend Dawn to upload this for me, I hope you like it. Leave comments, read Dawn's fanficts, review review review, if you hate it, I won't write it. I hope you love it tho! :D

Somewhere in the darkness of Orzammar, a young elf of only fifteen years dashes across the stone floor, clutching her newborn child closely to her chest, muffling the little mewls and cries coming from it. She'd been able to escape from the Circle of Magi six months prior, when she had become aware of her pregnancy; she'd made it a mission to get away.

The baby girl began to cry loudly, shrilly, and exposingly, risking being found by the dwarves and being sent back to the Circle, the young elf could only think of what they would do to her precious baby, the images of the child's death, made her shiver with worry along with disgust and fear. Running even faster, the mage elf skittered across the stone ground and stopped when she reached a carved stone door.

"I'll always love you, my young one." And with that, she set the infant down tenderly and tore herself away just long enough to escape.

Nineteen years later

The infant was now a young woman, accepted in by the casteless dwarves and raised as their own blood-born child. She was brutally shunned, by nearly all else besides her family, and an acquaintance that was named Leske, as fortune would have it, he too, was casteless. At times, it upset her to be so different, being beaten, spat on. She was the only elf in a city of dwarves, the black sheep in a flock of white lambs.

Her family, named her Yundura meaning 'old, but new', and truly, her name was all she possessed that was her own. The clothes she wore were stolen, the weapons and armor as well. The food she ate was taken from others more fortunate and the plates and the silverware the same.

She was casteless, but never bitter or sore about her fate. Yundura took pride in her family, knowing she kept them strong, though she constantly longed to give them more; a better place to live, cleaner clothing, more food, anything. The elf did what she could when she was able, including being utterly silent unless spoken to.

Yundura was a carta assassin, killing whomever the crime lord wished, and getting her pay once she proved they had died. This was one thing, she was not nor ever would be, proud of. The children, they were the worst out of everything. She remembered a little dwarf, not even four, walked in on Yundura killing his father. Of course, he had to be silenced, for the young boy screamed on sight and sobbed.

Just the thought made the elf shudder with horror and sickening shame.

Though as of right now, she was sitting on a street corner, not begging, but simply sitting and listening to the gossip on the minds of nobles and upper castes, a growing hobby, slightly a habit.

"Did you hear?" One whispered rather loudly. "There are Grey Wardens in Tapster's Tavern! Lord Vollny thinks they're looking for recruits, Ancestor's blessing how wonderful!" That perked Yundura's interest, Grey Wardens were great warriors that fought against darkspawn, and they were known to accept any and all kinds to join their group.

If she could be noticed, or even recruited, the upper dwarves would have to bring her family into some kind of a better life right? It wouldn't be hard to find them, being an elf, she was much taller than that of the dwarves, all Yundura would have to do is look for others just the same.

Her feet drummed along the ground as she walked, and she smirked as the nobles shouted profanities and names at her, so predictable if you asked her.

The elf came to a stop and re-adjusted the long steel sword and grey iron dagger on her back, preparing them for speed as she burst suddenly into a run.

"Na'riom lioden!" She shouted against the self-made wind. It was a phrase that a visiting surfacer had taught her, it was Dalish, meaning, 'far away, far of mind' perfectly describing the wish to never see casteless.

It seemed to be her favorite thing to say, if not the only thing she was known for saying. Yundura was possibly the strangest person in Orzammar, the shiniest hair always kept sleek black and down around her waist, the whitest skin always clear of a blemish, and the most odd habits, talking back to nobles, yet good table manners, a thug and poor girl, but a virgin and carefree attitude.

"Watch it, brand!" Cried a noble as Yundura opened the door to Tapster's, which once again, was bustling with life and pay along with drunks, nobles, whores, and dusters.

Music greeted her and bursted forward in chords and verses, making her smile behind her curtain of shadowy coal hair.

While she searched for the Grey Wardens, Yundura used her skills to pickpocket the nobles, coming away with almost a whole sovereign's worth without one noticing her fingers slipping into their pockets. She truly was a master cut-purse, matched by no one in Dust Town.

She reached for a coin purse on a table when she heard a strong and firm voice call out to her.

"I wouldn't do that." It said sternly, full of years of experience and leadership. She turned, and as she did, her eyes met with chocolaty brown. There was a man, staring at her, a mug of dwarven ale clasped between his hands, one finger idly stirring the mixture, as if bored.

This man must be a Warden, there was no doubt whatsoever

Yundura slid her fingers around the string of the pouch, lifting it up and into her palm, the feeling of fine leather so very foreign to her. She stepped closer to the tall human sitting to her right, and set the pouch next to him on a table.

Yundura reached into her trouser pocket, and pulled silver from it. She placed it on the table and whistled for a barkeep.

The man was fat and greasy, and gave her a look with slanted eyes that was filled with mistrusting and hateful thoughts. The barkeep eyed the money before his monstrous greed got the best of him. He scooped the money up and poured ale into a mug with a sneer on his face, then nearly slammed it down in front of her, spilling a few drops onto the stone counter.

She took a swig and locked eyes with the barkeep, hating the taste that filled her mouth but not letting it show.

"Thank you." Yundura said icily, throwing daggers at him with her eyes. The keep still refused to back down however, and was now locked into a fierce game of malice.

The Warden next to her cleared his throat and shooed the man away.

"You must be new to Orzammar, I have not seen you." She murmured calmly, it was her mission to impress this man, though whether he was an oaf or not, she could not tell.

"I am recruiting for the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. Dwarves know much of the darkspawn, and could be useful to our cause." He pushed a stray lock of hair that had escaped his short ponytail out of his eye.

"I am not of dwarf blood, nor am I one who has seen a darkspawn, but I know much of them." Yundura stated coolly. "I read and listen to stories on street corners of the monsters. From what I have heard, they are retreating into the Deep Roads, but as the books say, this means they are massing on the surface. This means a….now what was it?" She thought for a moment before jumping back into their conversation. "Blight if I am correct?"

The man gave a nod, looking at her as though he could not believe she knew this.

"You are an elf, have you been sent from the surface?" The Warden quickly realized his slight rudeness. "Excuse me, you need not answer."

Yundura set her mug back on the table, running her finger up the side, feeling the glass beneath her skin.

"I was given to a family here." It was all she offered as an explanation. It was short and sweet, tinted with remorse. The man nodded curtly, thrumming his fingers against the stone table.

"I should go." Yundura said absently, swilling the rest of her ale and standing. "Good day, ser."

She was nearly knocked to the ground as she pushed through the drunks and whores. She was bumped into, and at least twice had to dodge a man's sick as it spewed from his mouth.

It didn't disgust her in the slightest, it was a regular occurrence in her life, along with being insulted and thought of as less than nothing.

"Brand." She heard from behind her in a hissing snarl, much like the ones her targets growled before she killed them. A feeling of excitement welled up into her stomach, making her giddy for the feel of battle. This did not show upon her face, but her fingers twitched, aching to once again hold the pommel of her dagger.

Yundura turned, looking into the faces of several dwarven guards with their swords drawn. The expressions they gave were solemn, but behind the mask of humility, was a grinning demon, pleased to have the opportunity of blood spilling.

"You have committed an offence against a Grey Warden of Ferelden, for this, you shall die."

Her instinct switched into full drive, her feet taking an offensive stance while she grabbed an acid bomb from her waist pouch. The acid was only enough to burn the eyes, but it would distract long enough to give Yundura the advantage of the battle. She slammed the glass flask down at the feet of the first wave of guards, delighted to hear the screeches of surprise.

From amidst the fog, Yundura was slammed into with a shield, just between the ribs on her left side. Though not sent to the ground, it made her growl in blinding fury. Her foot landed a kick into the guard's stomach; she made sure he coughed up blood before she rammed her dagger into his chest.

Drips of crimson splattered against her face and neck, marring her perfectly fair skin and exterior as she tore their lives from their bodies.

Yundura turned on the ball of her heel, failing to dodge an oncoming sword as it thrust forward and grazed her shoulder, making ice-cold adrenaline pump through the wound as though it were the blood itself. She knocked the hilt of her sword against the weapon's blade, sending it clattering to the floor with a loud ricochet before using her dagger to slice open another guard's throat.

The battle dragged on for what seemed like an eternity; even drawing forth a crowd, but Yundura came away the victor, gasping for air and respite, but still the winner.

She sheathed her weapons and stood shakily, weary from the extensive battle and wound. The elf was already expecting a few bruises.

"That was quite the show of bravery." Yundura knew that voice, for she had heard it only moments before she'd stepped outside the tavern. She put on a smile and attempted to wipe away some of the blood on her face, but winced when she grazed her split lip.

"Thank you." She cracked her knuckles and saluted the man, making him chuckle.

"We could use your kind of skill and bravery in our ranks." He mused, talking more to himself than to Yundura. The elf let no emotion show on her face, all the same, she was a raging storm on the inside, fighting among herself as whether to look further into his words or not.

"I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, hereby invite you to join our order."

She could scarcely believe her ears, had he really asked her what she thought he did?

The elf struggled to regain her ability to speak, mentally kicking herself for the long time period it took.

"Yes." Was all she gave as an answer, for this was all the sound she could form at the moment; knowing how foolish she must have looked; she took her place beside Duncan.

They stopped momentarily to bandage the elf's wound, but found that it had already scabbed enough not to worry about. This surprised the Grey Warden leader, but then again, who was he to judge?

The pair walked towards the Hall of Heroes, this was the place in which the door leading to the surface was located. Her steps wavered as she looked to one called Duncan; he was standing beside her, eyes locked on the door. She beseeched him for some kind of explanation of the outside before he pushed her into it. He motioned for the guards to open it, which they did near instantly in their attempts to stay within the Warden's good graces.

Air rushed into the rock hall, blowing Yundura's hair back past her neck. She gasped and ran behind Duncan, hiding like a frightened little doe.

Her hands shook as she clenched them, ashamed of herself and her fear. She had to prove that she wasn't just a weapon, but an instrument of leadership, Yundura refused to be seen as a pawn.

Duncan walked gradually forward, urging the young elf to do the same with a kind smile which stretched his lips into a crescent. He dug down into his pack and pulled from it a velvet red cloak, his thick leather armor would keep him warm enough, but his companion's shabby clothing would have her freezing within seconds.

She wrapped the cloak around herself, relishing in the softness and gazing adoringly at the color, never had Yundura seen such a crisp shade of red, so clean and wonderful.

With the renewed morale, the elf took an attentive step onto the ground outside the stone prism of Orzammar.

Her foot touched gently at the matter of soft white just outside the door with practiced care. It was frosty, and she immediately reached down and came up with a hand full of the icy substance. She let it hit the ground, rolling it between her fingers as it faintly numbed them. There were tiny patches of smooth emerald mixed in with grey, the veins of nature trying to overtake the white.

The air was clean and abruptly lifting, not suffocated like the close quarters of rock and lava. The wind blew stridently, cutting through the silence and whistling its tune of life.

"Take your time." Duncan whispered calmly, not in the slightest bit judging or hastening along her strange reaction to the first glimpse of surface in early spring.

She sucked in a breath of air and let the wind waft through her fingers, sleeker than water. Everything was fair and cold and wonderful, the sweet smell of Ferelden floated up and into her nose for the first time. Yundura sighed and looked over her surroundings-

And froze.

There was blonde haired man that had to be at least two heads taller than herself, staring openly at her. At a snail's pace she stood, locking eyes with the man and never leaving it, like a fencer ready for fight.

Her hands grasp her weapons, squeezing the hilts tightly, so much that her knuckles turned white. Calculatingly, never taking her eyes off the surfacer man, Yundura circled him like an animal; she wrenched her sword and dagger out and lunged directly at him.

The elf landed squarely on the man's shoulders, sending him reeling off balance and onto the ground in an awkward position.

Her legs straddled his waist, but her weapons were posed at his neck, just over the adam's apple in an 'x' cross.

Her eyes met his again, ice blue and hazel, trapped in a meeting of unspoken words. He swallowed thickly, careful not to let his throat bob too much, for fear of being compared to a literal headless chicken.

"He is not our enemy, Yundura." Duncan said slowly, trying not to spook her into slicing open the other man's throat. The moment was dire, a wrong move meant death, and death meant consequence.

The elf took a few steady breaths whilst raking her eyes from her current almost-but-not-quite victim. He implored Yundura to remove herself from her position with only a quick glance to her finely honed blades.

"I see." She said in a thick husky whisper. Yundura stood and slid her weaponry back into the sheaths.

"Alistair, this is our newest recruit," Duncan explained, chuckling deeply to himself. "Quite the spirit, hm?" He paused to turn his voice stern. "I want you to watch over and train her if you can in the time it takes to reach Ostagar."

'Alistair' nodded once, getting up and brushing himself off with one large gloved hand. He stretched out his arms and legs, and then looked back up at Duncan.

"She's certainly enthusiastic with her greetings, I'll say that." He quipped goofily, giving Yundura a kind-hearted grin.

Yundura nodded once to him, smiling slightly as she made her way to the man.

"Astas'vala, salroka." She patted his back with one hand, the proper Dust Town greeting, it was manners to her, but the man just gave her a funny look.

"In Ferelden we just say 'hello', I doubt the rest of the country knows Orzammar's language." Alistair beamed, much to Yundura's surprise and offered his hand, which she shook carefully, like it would break. The mere size of the hand was a testament to how much larger he was than her.

"Let us be off, the trip to Ostagar will take at least a week, and proper training could be of use." Duncan started off down the mountain carefully.

They'd been climbing for almost a day, having no slips or near falls was a blessing the trio had been lucky to have on their newly begun journey.

Yundura was climbing down about three feet above Duncan with Alistair just at her side. They were staying as close as possible and using a slow steady pace, lest one of the team fall, for it was quite the ways down.

Yundura hummed softly a melody that was familiar to Alistair as an old nursery rhyme he'd learned in the monastery.

"And a little boy said to his mama one day 'hey oh the wind does blow!'."

The charming tune was the first sound she'd made in over six hours straight; so naturally, Alistair glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"And a young mother said to her son this way, 'hi ho, how fast it goes.'" He sang out the next verse of the song gruffly as he gripped tightly onto a ledge and lowered himself, grunting when his foothold broke and almost sent him to his death.

"When the wind and the snow do blow oh oh, the birds and the cows go home. The kids and the crows all siiiing! The bells and chimes do ring. Shiver and wither the trees! Winter, my child, has come!"

The elf's voice was amazingly soothing and morale boosting. It surprised Alistair that such a sweet sound came from her petite lips.

An earsplitting cracking ended the singing, and suddenly, Yundura wasn't poised securely next to Alistair anymore but was about to plummet. The staggered look she shot up was heart wrenching, her icy blue eyes wide and round, her mouth curled into an 'o'.

"No!"

A quick and calloused hand.

"Hold on!"

A desperate moment in time.

Yundura was clinging for dear life onto Alistair's arm and trying as hard as she could not to collide with Duncan who was mere inches from her foot. He was clinging onto the mountain with all his power in case Yundura did fall.

Alistair pulled her tiny form up and cradled Yundura's miniature body next to his, firm and gentle.

"Are you alright?" He gasped, searching her for any cuts. "I was so worried, don't you ever do that again!" He gripped her shoulder and lifted her onto his back, prompting her to hold on as tightly as possible.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into his ear, sending warmth down his spine. Her fingers intertwined around his neck and she nuzzled her head into the crook of his shoulder, seeking forgiveness.

It was such an innocent and alluring motion, had she no idea of her beauty or effect on men?

"Is she unharmed?" Duncan's firm voice snapped Alistair back into reality in a flash.

"Y-yes." Alistair gripped onto the mountain with all his strength, now supporting Yundura, it wasn't an easy task, but he would do it because he'd gotten himself into this mess. Looking down, there was only about another hour climb, praise the Maker.

"Do you think I will make an acceptable Grey Warden?"

Yundura had set her head up on Alistair's shoulder and was gazing at him with a distant look in her orb-like eyes. He slid his gaze up to observe her and took a deep breath.

"Listen, I don't mean to disappoint you but, could we maybe talk about this later?" Alistair saw the hope flood from her and switched from rude to reassuring. "I don't have a very large understanding of the amount of training you've had, but from what I do know, you have a chance."

Yundura nodded once and settled back into the crook of Alistair's neck, like she was a sleepy child woken from an early nap, it was quite endearing.

"I suppose credit is due to be given...so, thank you, Alistair." She said this without opening an eye, but with a peaceful smile on her face. She was so unbearably youthful and calm, but an elf from Orzammar? Alistair had no idea what she had been through living there, but one thing was sure, Yundura was a beautiful, soft-spoken woman with eyes and heart like he'd never seen.

Shortly after reaching the ground, the sun had begun to set, signaling the much needed end of the first day. Alistair was exhausted, but he knew Duncan would want to cover at least a few miles before stopping for camp.

You'd think the man was an owl for how little he actually sleeps. The young man thought wickedly.

He felt a slight stirring on his shoulders and moved to accommodate the young woman's new position upon his upper back. Her small hands drooped lazily onto his chest, brushing over the chain mail links.

"Hmm…I think…. he's nice."

Yundura was talking in her sleep, and being on Alistair's back, he could hear every word of the soft nonsense. One could tell she was sleeping too, for her voice was restful and silky.

"Who is nice?" He asked, eager for her subconscious ramblings of thoughts.

"Alistair…." She yawned like a little kitten. "He's…..so sweet mother." The elf stirred and clenched her eyes further shut. "I think…he's nice."

And that little shred of endearment, made the day worthwhile.

They'd traveled ten miles since climbing the Frost Back Mountains, and already it seemed to chill twice as much from the snowy cliffs. Yundura had awoken, but seemed to wordlessly refuse to be away from Alistair's side, it was charmingly sweet.

"You are avoiding eye contact. Have I offended you?" Her small ivory hand clutched Alistair's shoulder and forced him to stop with gentle sternness.

"No, you…uh…..talk in your sleep." He was extremely awkward, he hadn't known this woman for a full day, and already he was stuttering over his words like a fool. Alistair prayed that she wouldn't notice his blushing.

Yundura nodded and ran up to meet Duncan, she said not a word, but decided to give Alistair breathing space. It was an odd thought, 'what could I have said to….make him this way?', and there was no way for her to answer herself.

"Yundura, Alistair, I believe now would be quite the time for camp, agreed?"

"Yes ser." Was their answer in perfect accord.

Alistair began to set up one of the tents and noticed a severe problem, there were only two canvas shelters, and there were three travelers. He wondered if Duncan had even noticed, being so occupied with his new recruit on top of everything else.

"Duncan….? There seems to be a problem."

Alistair looked over his shoulder for their leader, but found that Duncan was not where he had presumed. The ex templar leaned back on the ball of his heels and put his hands on his armored knees, sighing.

There were no other tasks that needed doing besides the tents, and that could be done after a brief discussion with Duncan.

Maybe Alistair could talk with the new recruit while he waited?

"Yundura? Are you still awake?"

But no, Yundura was curled next to the crackling hands of the flame, sleeping yet again. Alistair was struck dumb by her beauty, the shadows and light dancing across her pale face. The sleepy smile brightened her, and her hair curtained her back and waist. Even the brand on her cheek was beautiful, damn you female attractiveness!

His eyes flickered to her ears, and he wondered if they would be leathery, like a fine belt.

Oh she'd kill me for that one!

"You said there was a problem?" Alistair nearly yelped in surprise, but swallowed thickly before he could make a noise. Damn it Duncan, you were supposed to be gathering food!

"Well, um…There are only two tents, which sleep where?" Duncan and Alistair could sleep in the same tent sure, but both of them knew what they wanted.

The more playful side of Duncan emerged around Alistair, for the younger man brought back fond memories of the past. He let himself be rowdy and childish around the templar, if only to feel like his old self again.

Their eyes met briefly before they circled back to Yundura's sleeping form.

"Flip a copper." Duncan affirmed, hands reaching into his pocket for a bit.

The leader placed the coin on his thumbnail and cleared his throat, signaling the choosing of sides. Alistair was weary now from the long day of excitement, and blinked several times before turning to Duncan.

"I suppose I choose heads." He mumbled, anxious to be asleep in a nice warm tent.

Flip!

The coin twirled into the air, reflecting the firelight in the darkness of spring night. It was conceivably the most epic moment in both of their lives so far, and they were Grey Wardens for Maker's sake!

Duncan caught the coin in his palm and took a deep breath; he opened his palm at an agonizing pace. Alistair was eager to have Yundura with him, and half praying the very opposite of his first wish.

"Heads." Duncan sighed, letting his displeasure show plainly in his proclamation of the coin.

Praise bloody Andraste!

"Well, goodnight then Duncan." Alistair all but skipped to pick Yundura up and rest her in their tent.

Alistair unfastened the tent flap and settled Yundura into the soft covers with care. The elf groaned and made herself comfortable, rearranging Duncan's cloak on her shoulders while wrapping the substantially thick blankets around herself.

"Scoot over a bit Yundura." Alistair yawned, lifting the chainmail armor above his head and setting it down at his side, careful about the noise it would make. He removed his leggings and belt as well, left in his cotton shirt and trousers.

The elf stuck her tongue out at him and curled up more securely, it had just gotten to the point where the cloth had warmed up, and she was not giving them up now.

"I am comfortable." She tutted at the young man. "Find a place of your own to sleep."

"Give me the covers," Alistair growled rather mischievously, adding to the humor of the situation. "I mean it woman, the only thing I care more about is my cheese." The templar knelt beside her, struggling to see what was Yundura and what was blanket, he reached out and pulled, only to have the cloth yanked from his hands.

"No."

"You leave me no choice."

He tickled at her sides, relishing in the bell-like laughter that bubbled from her throat. She writhed and giggled as he moved his fingers up to her neck.

"You dreadful animal! Brute!"

"Covers! Now!"

"Never!"

Yundura hopped onto his back and began tickling his neck and underarms, watching his large form fall to the spot she was previously laying. Victory!

"You lose, the blankets are mine." She murmured tiredly, snuggling deeper into the under-stuffed pillow beneath her head.

In spite of the struggle, Yundura moved the hair from her eyes and covered Alistair with her blankets, making sure to get his shoulders and feet.

"Sleep well; I will see you in the morning, you little prat."

"Goodnight, you cheater." Alistair grumbled, stretching out beneath the large blanket. He let his gaze drift to Yundura, now cuddled up so close to him, slightly shaking even when covered.

And here he was already comfy and warm, like a bear in his cave. And…he just felt so generous today as to accidently wrap more of his side of the blanket around her shoulders.