BioWare owns all except what I created. : )

So we have Duncan's letter to his second ,Bernardo, telling us all what he has heard about Kai and her abilities. This second missive has his impressions after their first meeting. I hope these multiple stories only enhance your enjoyment of the other two. : )

Special thanks to Ladyamesindy, for the help, brainstorming, last piece of cheese, and being a beta, and for letting me use the name Malcolm for Kai's grandfather from her tale about Bryce and Eleanore "We Do What We Must." Please give her fantastic story, and stories a read. You won't be disappointed. And because the woman lets me bug her non-stop in chat all the time. Thanks sweet lady! : )

Shout outs go to zevgirl, CynderJenn, Megan2468, Auranara, Harmakhis, and Violet Theirin, for putting this on alerts. And thanks to Lisette57, and RubyPele for putting it on favorite story! And my deepest appreciation to all of you my lurkers, my reviewers, my fans. You are all the best group. And my special gratitude for the reviews and support for my newest offerings. You all keep me going and motivated! : )

NOTE: I feel free to have Duncan discuss Grey Warden secrets in his letters, as they would be encrypted.

Blessings!

~Duncans Second Missive~

Bernardo,

The meeting went as I'd feared and predicted, and as I'd hoped too. But I suppose I should begin at the beginning.

I know you will remember that I told you that I met Kaidana Cousland when her father held a tourney in honor of King Maric. I told you how precocious she was even then. She climbed in the king's lap bold as you please and demanded stories. Of course Eleanore and Bryce were embarrassed. But Maric kept her at his side the entire time, sharing cheese and stories, I think Maric enjoyed her company more than the tourney. At one point, the rambunctious lass found the dagger sheathed at his belt and convinced the king to let her examine it, fascinated not only by the designs and decorations but by the blade itself. I told you I had my eye on her even then.

Well Bernardo, she is just as bold as brass and even more exceptional than she was at the age of four. In fact, my friend, the years have only honed those qualities and polished them.

I watched her training today, in the practice yard. Her love of daggers has continued and has developed into an impressive skill. She is quick and nimble. She enjoys besting the braggarts who throw insults and challenge her; yet when they are defeated soundly, she does not revel in her victory nor taunt them with their loss to a woman. If anything she takes them aside and shows them how to improve their stance, or their grip; or she shows them a maneuver they had not known, or strategies they can use to beat someone like her, for the next time. She seems to have sharpened that spit-fire personality into a disciplined warrior.

What I have observed of her abilities and temperament, in person, has only proven to me that I was right about her,and that she and her skills are an ideal fit for the Grey Wardens. And while I know this, I also realize what it would cost her and I dread doing so to someone so young, vibrant and alive. Our lives are shortened considerably, part of me dreads doing that to someone as alive as this.

First Alistair, now her? I know what you are thinking, my friend. I can hear your voice as if we were sitting in the mess hall sharing a tankard. You would tell me that with Alistair I had no choice. It was the only way to save him from a life of misery in the Chantry. The Revered Mother was not about to let the boy go despite her hatred of him. The lad would have ended his own life if he had had to spend one more month in that place. And I promised Maric that I would watch out for him. Though Eamon effectively cut me out of his life once Maric was gone. My arguments against the abuse and neglect from that wife of his... well, removing Alistair from the Chantry was the very least I could do to keep that promise and honor the memory of my friend.

But this young woman? She has everything to live for. She could have a life with a husband and children. Being a Grey Warden will not save her but end her future before she has a chance to live it. All it will do is turn her into a tool which we shall use to end the Blight that will soon be upon us as waves crashing upon the rocky shore. I know, I hear you quoting our motto and reminding me that we do whatever it takes. But why does that have to be so Maker be damned hard? It is one thing to let it fall glibly off the tongue and it sounds great on recruitment posters, but the reality, as with so many things in life, is anything but.

If only we had more Wardens in Ferelden. If only Loghain did not argue against bringing in the Orlesians to help fight. If only, if only, if only. With the Calling drawing nearer for me and the Blight newly upon us, I find myself more and more in the land of 'if only.'

The young lives I have ended abruptly or shortened considerably with each Joining leave their mark on my soul. But enough of such maudlin musings many of which you, as my second, have had to endure on a regular basis. Back to the topic at hand, one Lady Kaidana Cousland, yes?

When I entered the hall, I was struck by what a beauty she has become. She has the raven black hair her mother had at that age, but her eyes are the piercing blue of her grandfather Malcolm's, and they seem to take everything in as did his.

That she had Dalish blood writing imprinted on her features told me she did not care what others thought of her looks; particularly the nobles who might take offense at elven tattoos on a human face. Though it does speak of a rebellious nature, and a blatant disregard for authority or social pressures. Some things don't change with the passing of the years it seems.

Her frank appraisal of me was both disconcerting and flattering. My earring and my beard seemed to catch her eye the most. The way she has of cocking her eyebrow and quirking a smile is enough to make most men's hearts race. Even a man at my age...well, I have to admit it was a boost to my ego to be noticed in such a way, by one such as she. It took every ounce of discipline I had not to grin like a school boy (DO NOT let Alistair see this part of the letter, that is an order).

It was also fascinating, my friend, watching her react to both myself and Arl Rendon Howe. Howe was not pleased to see me, which bothers me for reasons I cannot say. Something is not right here. I hope to discover what it is before I have to return to Ostagar. Howe's reaction sent alarm bells off in my head. That Howe's reaction to my being a Grey Warden seemed to do the same for her as well. And it brought home to me how very observant she is, how extremely aware of her surroundings she is. Her eyes follow every detail like hawk hunting its prey.

She took Howe's measure and found the man coming up short, despite his sycophantic groveling. Her ability to see beyond the masks that all of us present for others to see is a trait that would serve her well in our ranks. It would be hard to keep secrets from her, of that I have no doubt.

So, I come to the good news, bad news portion of this letter to you, my friend. I did indeed get the response I had expected from Bryce. Even with my softening the request to recruit her by telling him I was there to recruit Ser Gilmore, it did not help my case. Bryce was adamant about her not becoming a Grey Warden. It was as I feared, he worries that he might lose Fergus in the upcoming battle. Kaidana would be his only surviving child. How could I tell him that a Blight is coming and there may not be a Ferelden left alive if we don't do everything we can to stop it?

And this is the extraordinary part, I thought I had schooled my face. I had no desire for Bryce to see my disappointment or my fear. My heart was in my boots, but my face I set in stone. But she saw it, my friend. She saw my fear, my disappointment. I could tell by the way she looked at me! Her eyes got slightly wide and she cocked her eyebrow at me. She did not let it show to anyone else present but me, but she knew and she kept it our secret.

I have to tell you my friend, I was still reeling from her astuteness, and I thought she had turned to go. Her father and Howe were talking. She came back asked her father if she might have a word with me briefly, as she would be seeing to my needs as a guest, and she pulled me aside.

I tried to sound stern, telling her that her father wished to speak with me and Arl alone. But my tone of voice did not have her flinching, or apologizing, or begging my pardon. She was not the least bit cowed in any way. She simply placed a strong hand on my arm and asked if we might speak together. I told her as her father had put her in charge of the castle that I would, and that I would speak to her before the dinner hour the next day. She did not accept my answer, and inquired if we could not meet sooner. I must say the scent the floated around her, the closeness of her presence and that strong will had me almost squirming like a disobedient child. I found that I was the one who wanted to beg her pardon under those piercing blue eyes. It took what self-mastery I had, to sound cool and in charge. I told her I would see her at breakfast tomorrow, before I tested Ser Gilmore.

And then she leaned in and whispered to me, "I saw your face. I know it must be worse than they all know. You need more Grey Wardens Ser Duncan. I shall work on my father. You shall have me in your ranks. We Couslands always do our duty." And with that she winked and gave me a slight smile and a salute before taking her leave. I must admit I was at a loss, and it took me a moment to recover so I could speak to Bryce again without embarrassing myself.

She is strong, and strong willed. But will she break? That is the question, my friend. My only concern. An oak is mighty and strong, but it will break in a fierce wind. The Willow on the other hand, bends and sways with the storm. Strength she has, make no mistake. But we are facing a tempest the likes of which have not been seen for four hundred years. Will she be the Willow or the Oak?

Well, I had best put a stop to this letter here, or I will never get it sent. I will test her when I test Ser Gilmore, if she demands it. And I know she will. And while we may not have her at the battle at Ostagar, I take heart knowing we may have her with us yet, for what is to come after.

I hope the rest of the Wardens are keeping up with their training. Remind them that despite Cailan's propensity to treat each battle fought against the darkspawn thus far, as a faire with drinking and wenching, it is anything but. See that they stay sharp.

In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.

Duncan

P.S. And please make sure our food supplies are restocked before the battle (Alistair, that had better not be the last piece of cheese, my boy!).