Chpater 3: Tales of a Wanderer

Author note:

Diverging from the in-game story a bit. I always thought that Duncan's assistance was nice (and very convenient) but I was sure that some of the Origin characters could get out of their situations on their own.

Disclaimer - I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

(Day 3 on the road)

Dear Shianni,

I'm sorry you have to learn it this way, but I'm alive. Surprise, I guess? Or…maybe not; the city was probably in uproar after the incident, and my escape probably made that worse. I hope you're alright, and Soris too. Can you…tell Dad I'm sorry? And the Elder, and Soris, and Neria and…and everyone? I should have stopped Vaughan before he took any of us. My actions have hurt you all, and I…can't face you, after I let him harm you like that. I hope that one day, you can forgive me…

Best wishes,

Adeline

oooo

(Day 15 on the road)

Dear Shianni,

It's been a little more than a fortnight since I set out. I won't tell you where I'm headed, in case the guards are looking for me and they intercept this, but I'll describe what I've seen along the way. The world beyond Denerim's gates is…well, a really weird place, to put it bluntly. I joined up with a pair of merchant Dwarves, named Bodahn and Sandal Feddic – Bodahn said he used to run a shop in Orzammar, and adopted Sandal before coming to the surface. The boy is…a bit odd. He keeps saying 'enchantment' over and over again; Bodahn said he thinks Sandal's lyrium addled, but a genius when it comes to crafting. The boy can work an enchantment into nearly anything, given enough time, and he seems quite happy when he's working. I'm sending you a ring that he enchanted – I hope you like it.

Give the others my regards,

Adeline

oOo

Zevran sighed as he sat by the campfire, warming his hands and shivering. While he didn't much mind Ferelden itself – with its dogs and its mud – he hated the weather. It was springtime, and the ground was still coated in a layer of frost each morning. Taliesen strode over to his friend, running a hand through his short, dark hair and sitting down next to him. "Something the matter Zev?" he asked, and the Elf snorted bitterly.

"Oh, no, I am perfectly well and good. I cannot feel my toes, but besides that…" he grumbled, rubbing his hands across his arms as he shifted even closer to the fire; he was nearly in danger of burning himself, he was sitting so near the flames. "I cannot wait to return to Antiva," he added, a pang of homesickness in his voice. He sighed as bitter memories flooded his mind – while he didn't relish the thought of returning to the Crows, he wanted to get out of Ferelden as soon as possible; Ferelden was her homeland, and the fewer things that brought her to mind, the better.

"We can only travel so quickly," Taliesen chuckled slightly. After their last job, they were headed back to Denerim, and from there, planned to take a ship back to Antiva. "How about we visit The Pearl when we get there. Cheer you up, yes?" the man added, and Zevran snorted. While he normally would have agreed, he wasn't very much in the mood for that sort of thing – not after the nightmares all last week.

Before he could respond, the Elf glanced up, narrowing his eyes at the woods. "Did you hear that?" he asked, and Taliesen closed his eyes, listening. Suddenly a shriek pierced the night air, and the Elf leapt to his feet – a woman was screaming in the woods.

"What are you doing?" Taliesen asked, bewildered, staring after Zevran as the olive-skinned Elf grabbed his blades, running towards the sound.

"Rescuing a damsel in distress," he replied glibly, Taliesen grumbling and grabbing his own longsword, following after him. As they ran, they heard more shouting, and the screams became vicious swears that would make a Rivaini sailor blush. "Our lady has quite the barbed tongue," Zevran remarked, sliding into the shadows and looking into a clearing where all the noise was coming from.

A red-haired Elf woman was being attacked by a group of burly men. Two of them lay dead with blades in their chests, and another was gripping his bloodied face and shouting profanity at the woman, pointing at her with the bleeding stumps of his missing index and middle finger. "Let go of me you sodding bastards!" the woman yelled, kicking and scratching furiously as two of the men grabbed her arms and legs, restraining her.

"Hold the little knife-eared bitch down – she needs to learn her place," the wounded man snarled, and the men dragged her to the ground, forcing her to her stomach. Zevran's blood turned to ice as the leader knelt, unbuckling his pants as the woman squealed in pain, the other men forcing her face into the dirt. The assassin let out a furious shout, hurling his knife at the man's head, the blade embedding itself in his eye. As he fell, Zevran leapt into the clearing, Taliesen at his heels, and they cut the other men's throats.

"Are you alright?" Zevran asked as the woman coughed, sitting up and rubbing dirt and tears from her face. She took a few steadying breaths before glancing up at the men – they froze, hearts leaping to their throats. R…Rinna? Zevran thought, glancing quickly at Taliesen, who shook his head slowly.

"Umph, about as 'alright' as you can get, narrowly avoiding getting raped," the woman muttered harshly, running a hand through her messy red hair. "Sodding shems," she grumbled under her breath, calming down. "Not that I'm ungrateful for your rescue. Thank you," she added, getting shakily to her feet and brushing herself off. "I'm Adeline," she introduced herself with a slight bow of her head, and the two men let out soft breaths, nearly indiscernible as the wind picked up.

"Zevran," Zevran replied, glancing at Taliesen, who remained silent as he looked at the woman.

"The shem doesn't speak?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Surprising." Zevran could hear the bitterness and wariness in her voice as she watched Taliesen cautiously. She moved slowly among the bodies of the bandits, plucking her knives from their corpses and rummaging through their bags, picking out some money and supplies that she tucked into her own bag. "You don't happen to know the way to Orzammar from here, do you?" she asked, and Zevran shrugged.

"Unfortunately not," the Elf man replied, and Adeline sighed. "We have a map in camp, however, if you would like to see," he offered. He saw the flash of suspicion in her eyes again, and she crossed her arms.

"I…think I'll take my chances in the woods," she said.

"And what if there are more men in this group?" Zevran argued, indicating the dead bandits.

"I can handle myself," she retorted.

"Yes, I can see how well you 'handled' yourself," Taliesen spoke up, and Adeline glared at him.

"I wasn't…" she bit off her words, glaring at the ground, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "I just… Fine," she relented sourly. "But I'm watching you," she added as she pointed at Taliesen and Zevran, not trusting either of them. They led her back through the woods towards their camp, where some of the merchants they had been traveling with were playing music and telling stories around the fire. One of the large messenger crows that the men kept let out a loud caw at their return.

As Taliesen retrieved a map from his bag, Zevran looked Adeline up and down slowly, taking a moment to appreciate her figure. She was slender – although a little underweight, he thought – with the build of a rogue; thin but muscular arms, strong legs, and a light frame. What caught Zevran's attention, however, were her eyes. They were intensely green, like emeralds, and they burned into him as she caught him staring, not liking his gaze on her one bit. She shuffled uncomfortably and crossed her arms, muttering something under her breath in what Zevran swore was Elvish. Interesting, he thought, intrigued by this strange traveler.

He also noticed the wound on her leg as she flinched slightly, scowling as his eyes sought out the injury. "Your leg–"

"I can treat it later," Adeline cut him off, crossing her arms. It wasn't a very serious injury, but Zevran didn't want to leave it untreated. When he saw that the woman was going to be stubborn about it, he slipped his arms behind her, lifting her into the air and setting her on the back of a nearby wagon, pulling off her right boot and rolling up her leggings before she could speak. As soon as her backside had touched the cart, she whipped out a blade, holding the tip towards Zevran's chest, keeping him at arm's length. "Touch me and I gut you from nose to naval," she snarled, and the assassin raised his hands, showing he was unarmed.

"Let me treat your wound, at least," Zevran said gently. "I promise, I will not do anything else," he added. Adeline glared at him suspiciously but lowered her knife, sticking it into the wooden cart beside her and watching the man's every move. "So what are you doing heading to Orzammar?" Zevran asked as he tried to ease the tension, "I would hardly call these ideal traveling conditions."

"I don't think that's any of your business," Adeline remarked, and Zevran bit the corner of his cheek, trying not to smile at her scowl as he wrapped the wound on her thigh – he found her anger more amusing than intimidating, really. If it weren't for the sharpness in her eyes, he might have actually laughed a little.

Once he was finished treating her injury, Zevran held up her boot, handing it to her. His eyes moved over the leather slowly, appreciating the details; the boots were thigh-high, made of fine leather, the designs along the dark-brown material drawing attention to the shape of the legs – and what fine legs they were – Zevran thought, resisting the urge to ask if she needed help putting the boot back on; she might actually have killed him for that.

Taliesen returned with a map of Ferelden shortly after, and Adeline looked it over quickly, taking a small notebook out of her pocket and sketching a miniature version of the region northwest of Lake Calenhad, making a face as she took note of the distance. She thanked them once more before heading off into the night, and Zevran watched her go, glancing back up at Taliesen. "Don't think too deeply on it, Zev. She's…gone. This was just a coincidence," the man sighed, returning to his tent for the night. Zevran ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very lonely in this strange, cold country.

oOo

(Day 28 on the road)

Dear Shianni,

I met another bunch of weirdoes the other day. Bodahn and I parted ways more than a week ago, and I've been traveling alone ever since. A couple of days ago, though, I ran into a group of traveling merchants. Two men stood out in particular to me; one was a tall, dark-haired human, and the other was an Elf with a tattoo on his left cheek. They seemed a bit sketchy, and I tried not to stare at the crows that were sitting around the wagon when I went to their camp to ask for directions. I think they were Antivans, judging by the accents. The Elf was staring with me the whole time; he looked like he had seen a ghost or something. I've figured out how to get where I'm going by now, and I'll send word once I've reached the place.

Best wishes,

Adeline

oooo

I sat under the light of the moon, staring up at the constellations and letting out a long sigh, sealing up the letter I had finished writing. If I ran into someone heading to Denerim, I would pass it on to them; honestly, I didn't know if any of my letters had reached my family…but it was something to hope for, at least. I lay down, resting my head on my arms and closing my eyes, listening to the crackling fire and the sounds of the spring evening that floated around me.

I thought about many things as I traveled. About my family – how they were, and what had happened after my escape – and about Neria – had she left Denerim once I was gone? – and Daveth – really, where could he be? – but my thoughts always returned to one thing; killing.

Back at the Arl of Denerim's estate, I had killed for the first time. I had killed men, felt their blood spatter across my face, and I loved it. The adrenaline rushing through me made me feel alive – and I wanted more. It was sick. I opened my eyes and held a hand out, looking at it in the darkness – even now, I could almost imagine the smell of blood on my skin; all the perfumes in Orlais and Antiva couldn't wash away my crime. And yet I felt no guilt; those men would have killed me slowly – made me suffer. I had at least killed them fairly quickly.

And Vaughan. Killing Vaughan in a blind rage had brought me no closure after Nelaros' death, and Shianni's violation. It made me feel worse, in a way; he had made me into a monster. He had pulled the demon from within me; all of my pent-up hatred and disgust had gone into destroying him…and yet he lived on within me – I could hear Shianni's screams of terror and Nelaros' cry of pain, and it made my insides burn and throb. And I hated that his memory was what made me stronger – that the rage from it fed my strength.

But I could learn from this, and I had. On the road, I had met humans who had lost everything to bandits, or had their farms in the south invaded by darkspawn. They had been welcoming – it surprised me, and had made me think; maybe not all humans were so bad. It was sad, though, that we all needed to go through such suffering to understand this. Perhaps if I was a man, I would go south and try to join the army at Ostagar. Being an Elf as a servant or messenger there was already dangerous – I had heard horror stories in Denerim about Elves who had served during the Orlesian Occupation – and being a lone Elf woman was even more so. Perhaps I might try there one day, but not now. Not today.

The days and weeks that had followed my escape had come and gone in a blur – most of the time had been spent following the North Road as I trudged west, towards Lake Calenhad and the Frostbacks. I had wept for Nelaros and had prayed for those at the Alienage…but I knew that my tears and prayers did little good on their own. Despite my new outlook towards humans, I felt that I still needed a bit of time to pull myself back together; so I had struck west, towards the largest population of non-humans I knew of – Orzammar. I would have gone south into the Brecilian to find the Dalish, but their clans roamed along seemingly random routs, and I knew I wouldn't last long in the reaches of the haunted forest without a proper guide…or an immense amount of luck.

So I was headed for the city of the Dwarves; there was something about the place that just seemed to…call to me. I had been having strange dreams again, hearing the sweet voice in my head and trying to chase down the source when I became aware of my dream. I could never seem to catch it, though – wherever I went, the voice would move further and further away, fading into the distance as I woke. Orzammar is the key to this mystery. I can feel it in my bones.

oooo

I traveled through the Frostback Mountains for a few days; the going was tough, and I had to fight off wild animals along the way, but I got a nice wolf-fur cloak out of it, at least. I reached the main gates of Orzammar, pausing and staring up at them in wonder. From the look of the large camp around the grand stone gateway, it seemed that surfacers weren't generally allowed in without special permission. I had managed to convince the gateman to make an exception, telling him that I was a sell-sword come to find my fortune in the Deep Roads. Very romantic.

I began to get nervous, suddenly; going to Orzammar and the Deep Roads would mean being underground. With miles and miles of mountain over my head. The thought of it made me queasy, but I swallowed the nausea, taking a deep breath as the Dwarf on guard duty let me pass. The carved gates rumbled open – pulled slowly by some hidden mechanism, I assumed – and I felt a blast of warm, stale air ruffle my hair as I walked in.

I entered a long, decorated hall dotted with large stone statues, watching as a few Dwarves knelt nearby, murmuring prayers to them. Oh yes, I forgot – Dwarves have some kind of ancestor worship going on. I guess these are…particularly famous ancestors? Nobility maybe, or heroes, I assumed as I passed by, heading to the large doors on the other side of the hall.

"Atrast Valla, surfacer. I'll just ask you not to cause any trouble in the city," a guardsman greeted me by the doors, and I nodded. As I entered the commons of Orzammar, I stopped and stared, hoping my mouth wasn't hanging open; the city spread out along the walls of a giant cavern with houses and shops carved out of the stones. The higher one looked, the more lavish the structures became; I assumed the nobility and royal family lived close to the top. In the center of the cavern were grand statues, carved to look like they were holding up the ceiling, and when I asked what the large building in the center of these statues was, I was told it was called the 'Proving Grounds'.

"Proving Grounds?" I echoed in confusion, and the merchant who I was speaking to shrugged.

"It's a way for warriors to test their might, and gain the ancestors' favor," he replied, and I nodded vaguely, still not quite understanding. Maybe I'll check it out some time, I thought, heading down a side road and leaning against the waist-high stone barricade, propping my elbows up and watching the magma that fell down from the ceiling in long streams, like pillars of molten stone.

I walked into a tavern called Tapsters and was greeted at the door by a Dwarf woman with red hair. "Atrast vala, stranger. You must be one of the Grey Wardens we heard about. Welcome to Tapsters," she said, leaning against one of the giant stone kegs, arms crossed over a stained apron. "I'm Corra, your hostess. How may I serve you?" she asked, and I cocked my head.

"Wait, what's all this about Grey Wardens?" I said, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Huh, so you're not one of them? I guess I should've figured – they usually stay in the Diamond Quarter with the nobles," she remarked.

"Uh…no, I'm not a Grey Warden. I'm just a regular old surfacer…I guess," I replied, and she shrugged. "I'd…um…like to hear a bit about the city," I added, and she gave a small laugh.

"So you come to Tapsters?" she grinned, and I shrugged. "I guess you're not asking for anything official, or you'd be at the Shaperate, but I can certainly give you a mole's-eye view," she added, and I thanked her.

"Are there any places I should see while I'm here?" I asked, and Corra pursed her lips, absently fingering the edge of a cleaning rag that stuck from her apron pocket.

"The nobles stay upstairs except when they're slumming. You'll find the Assembly, the palace, the Shaperate, and plenty of estates up in the Diamond Quarter," she described, and I nodded. "Down from here is just Dust Town or the mines, so my recommendation is 'avoid.' It's not part of the city, just some old tunnels where the casteless build their nests. No one goes there if they can help it," she muttered the last part with a hint of disgust, shaking her head. "But if you want fun, your best bet is the Proving," she added.

"Hmm…do you have rooms here?" I asked, and she nodded, pointing towards a set of stairs in the far corner of the room.

"Spending the night?" she replied and I shrugged.

"Maybe the week. Anywhere I can find work?" I added, and she looked at me oddly.

"You're a bit scrawny for a sell-sword, if that's what you're looking to do," she remarked, seeing the pair of long knives on my belt; I had bought them, and some traveling clothes from Bodahn before we had parted ways.

"I'm good at what I do. Muscle isn't the only thing that makes a mercenary," I replied coolly, and she nodded sagely, seeing the hint of offense in my eyes.

"Well…I suppose you could always try hiring out to some noble as an…exotic bodyguard, or join a Deep Roads expedition. They might be curious – we don't get many Elves down here – but I don't know if they'd hire you, based on appearances alone…" she added, and I shrugged.

"Their loss," I said, and she smiled at my cocky tone. I rented a room for the night, groaning as I unlocked the door and saw a stone bed with a thin sheet. Oh what the sod. How do the Dwarves sleep on these things? I rolled over, thoroughly uncomfortable, and I muttered under my breath, cursing whoever thought this had ever been a good idea.

I woke up stiff and sore the next day, writing a long letter to Shianni – half of it was complaining about how I wouldn't get a decent night's rest on these damned stone beds. Maybe now that I'm going to be staying in one place for a while, she'll be able to send me letters back. It's been a little more than a month now…I hope everyone at home's alright, I thought, looking at the letter in silence. I folded it up, giving it to a surface Dwarf who had set up a stall in the commons, asking him to pass it on to a trade caravan heading for Denerim.

"Now," I said, putting my hands on my hips, "let's see about finding a job."

oooo

Apparently, not just anyone could wander into the Deep Roads, I discovered. I asked a Dwarf on guard duty by the tunnels about it, and all he said was that I'd need a deshyr's permission, or join up with a patrol or private expedition. "So there're darkspawn down there?" I asked, sitting on a tall stone slab and nodding towards the tunnels. I fell a strange…pull, for lack of a better word. The 'call' that brought me to Orzammar was somewhere further into the earth. Somewhere down there – in the Deep Roads.

"Aye. And giant spiders. And deepstalkers," the Dwarf replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Deepstalkers? What're those?" I asked and he crossed his arms, glancing at the dark mouth of the tunnel.

"Ugly beasts, they are. Walk on two legs, but they have the head of a worm, and hunt in packs. Even big patrols need to watch out for them; they're not afraid to take on a group their own size," he described, and I tried to picture the creatures.

"City seems rather lively today," I remarked, and the Dwarf made a face at my attempt at small-talk. "What? I can't talk about the weather down here," I laughed, and the guard snorted, slightly amused.

"There's a Proving being held in honor of King Endrin's second son," he explained, and I glanced towards the Proving Grounds, seeing a steady stream of Dwarves entering the place. "Some say it's a bit of a scandal, after what happened last week," he added, and I raised an eyebrow. "Some brand – a casteless Dwarf – got into the Proving, and defeated three of the best warriors in Orzammar. The warrior caste was in uproar," he explained, and I whistled.

"Wow," I murmured, crossing my legs and looking up towards the ceiling of the cave. So casteless down here are like the Elves in the Alienages up on the surface? I mused, feeling badly for them. "So can I just go in the tunnel and kill some darkspawn?" I asked suddenly, and the Dwarves on guard duty all stared at me as if I were mad.

"You…say that the same way you'd say 'I'm running down to the tavern for an ale'," one of the Dwarves said, and I shrugged.

"What? I want to see what it's like – have a look around," I argued, and the Captain rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm not about to let a scrawny Elf lass get herself killed just because she wants to 'see what it's like'," the Captain said firmly, and I crossed my arms.

"Oh come on, please?" I tried, and he glowered at me.

"No," he retorted flatly, and I sighed.

"Ugh, I hope an expedition is hiring," I complained sourly, staring at the dark mouth of the tunnel.

oooo

I sat out by the barricades for the next few days, idly polishing my knives and asking each patrol going out if they would take me along. "By Andraste's flaming knickers!" I exclaimed, after another group refused to take me along. "What is so wrong with me going into the freaking Deep Roads? I'm never going to get hired at this rate," I snorted, and Captain Harney crossed his arms, leaning against a barricade and looking at me.

"Why don't you try on the surface? I'm sure someone's bound to hire you up there," he remarked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I came down here to get away from the surface. I can't just give up after a few rejections," I replied, trying to stay optimistic.

As luck would have it, the very next expedition hired me. I mean, I badgered them until the leader threatened to cut my tongue out if I kept talking, and they weren't going to pay me, but at least I got to go into the Deep Roads. Apparently, Prince Bhelen, the king's youngest son, had hired them to look for something…a place in the Deep Roads called 'Caridin's Cross' or something. That was about all I could get from the Dwarves in the expedition before they started threatening me, so I remained silent for the rest of the way.

We encountered giant spiders and deepstalkers in the tunnels; we were nearly three days in before we fought our first darkspawn. The creatures were ugly, twisted things with yellowish or greyish skin, covered in rash-like growths, blood and war-paint. They had horrible yellow eyes with slit pupils, and long, jagged teeth that were stained yellow and orange. The Dwarves seemed impressed by my ferocity; I was grinning with excitement as I took down my first darkspawn all by myself. "Huh," one of them remarked as I sheathed my blades, "you're pretty good for an Elf."

We made our way through the tunnels, fighting more darkspawn as we went. I suddenly found myself surrounded, getting separated from the rest of the Dwarves as the darkspawn tried to herd me down a side tunnel. I fought viciously, taking them down as they bit and scratched, but when the fighting was over, I found that I was utterly alone, and in near pitch-darkness. The tunnel was strewn with darkspawn corpses, but as I called out, no one answered – the only light in the tunnels was the faint glow of lyrium veins by the ceiling, which cast eerie blue beams down from above; it was like weak moonlight streaming through a canopy of trees.

"Oh sod, oh sod," I muttered, panic rising in my throat – I didn't like being in the tunnels much to begin with, but now that I was alone, my anxiety began to resurface. "Okay, calm down. I don't want to get even more lost trying to find the others, so maybe I should just head back," I said, taking long, calming breaths. "You…remember how to get back to Orzammar…right?" I asked myself, closing my eyes and thinking. "Er…that way…maybe?" I tried, walking down a semi- familiar tunnel as I tried to back-track.

I wandered through the tunnels for hours, trying to trace my steps. I paused as I came to a wider cave, with the ruins of old buildings and statues carved out of the walls, hearing shouting further off. I ran towards the sound, hoping that maybe it was a patrol that I could return to the city with. Up ahead, fighting off a pair of darkspawn twice his size was a young Dwarf with golden hair and a long, braided beard. He was wearing rags, fighting the darkspawn barehanded, and I let out a yell, drawing my knives and leaping into the fray, helping him take them down.

"Oh, thank the Stone," he gasped, once we had defeated the creatures. "I thought I was done for," he sighed, calming down and looking up at me. "You have my thanks, stranger," he added, giving an elegant bow, and I raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me if this seems rude, but what's an Elf doing down here all alone?" he asked, and I crossed my arms.

"I got separated from the expedition I was working with. And I could ask the same thing. What're you doing in the Deep Roads without arms or armor?" I countered, and he looked up at me in silence for a few moments, letting out a long sigh.

"You've been down here for a while, I suppose?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"The Dwarves I was with say it's been three days since we set out…" I replied, "…but honestly, I can't tell the passing of day into night down here," I admitted.

"Ah, so then you don't know," he sighed, running a hand through his golden beard. He had a very noble air about him, even though he couldn't have been more than a few years older than me. "It…doesn't matter. Call me Duran," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. I shook it, smiling slightly.

"Adeline," I replied, looking at the pair of darkspawn. I crossed my arms, glancing around and seeing freshly-killed deepstalkers strewn about the area as well. "You kill these things with your bare hands?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I bashed their heads in with a stone. The darkspawn don't go down as easily – I guess they don't like it when you throw rocks at their faces," he chuckled a bit, and I unsheathed one of my blades, handing it to him.

"You don't happen to know the way back to Orzammar, do you?" I questioned, and he pointed over his shoulder, indicating the dark tunnels.

"It's back thataways," he replied.

"So," I said, kneeling down and rolling a deepstalker over with my other knife, "what are you doing down here?" Duran was quiet again, nervously fingering the tip of his beard, a silver ring flashing on it in the faint blue light of the nearby lyrium deposits.

"I'm…looking for the Legion," he replied, his tone slightly guarded.

"The…Legion of the Dead?" I tried, and he nodded. I had seen a few of them on their way to the Deep Roads when I had been waiting for an expedition; the only way they would have let me come with them was if I had joined their ranks…and I liked being considered alive.

"They say that the Legion has been all the way to Bownammar," he explained with big eyes, and I made a face.

"Uh…I guess I'd be impressed if I knew what that was," I said apologetically, and he chuckled slightly, nodding.

"Right, I forgot the surfacers don't remember the place," he shrugged. "Bownammar's the City of the Dead, also known as the Dead Trenches. It was a monument built by the Paragon Caridin hundreds of years ago to honor the Legion. It was overrun by darkspawn, though, and now the place is constantly changing hands between the two forces," he explained, and I nodded.

"Hmm…you know how to get there?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Not really, no. I'm not exactly in a position to go back to Orzammar, though, so it's my best bet down here," Duran replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"…you're…a criminal? Exiled, maybe?" I asked, and he flinched at the words. "Hey, no judgment here, friend," I added quickly, "I'm a bit of an outlaw on the surface myself."

"I was framed for a crime I did not commit," he growled, glaring at the darkspawn corpses. "My younger brother betrayed me." I looked at the Dwarf in silence, pacing about the area slowly.

"You know…" I began, and Duran glanced at me, "maybe I can help you find the Legion," I offered, and his eyes lit up.

"I…what would you want in return?" he asked, and I snorted.

"You wound me, good ser! I am doing this out of the kindness of my own heart!" I said melodramatically, grinning at the Dwarf and placing a hand over my heart. "And I'm searching for something in the Deep Roads anyway. I got separated from the rest of the expedition, so I thought it would be safer to return to the city. I remember the way back to the spot where I got separated from them, but after that, we'll be going in blind," I explained, and Duran nodded.

"I've studied maps of the ancient Thaigs before. If we can get to a place I can recognize, I might be able to get us all the way to Bownammar," Duran said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Good. Maybe we won't die horribly down here, then," I grinned, kneeling down and unbuckling the armor from one of the darkspawn, the metal breastplate rusty and covered in small spikes. "Here, put this on," I said, and he made a face. "Oh don't be picky about it! This is the only armor we're likely to find, unless we stumble onto a dead warrior's tomb," I reasoned, and Duran sighed.

"Well why don't you wear it? You're awfully frail-looking," he remarked, eyeing the padded leather vest that acted as my armor, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm an Elf, Duran. We're all rather frail-looking. And besides, I'm a rogue – it'll only slow me down," I replied, watching as he grudgingly buckled on the breastplate.

As we headed back the way that I had come, I noticed Duran watching me from the corner of my eye, and I glanced down at him. "So what's your story? How'd an Elf end up in the Deep Roads?" he asked, and I snorted, smiling slightly at his question.

"I walked," I replied, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh ha-ha, very clever," he retorted, and I grinned.

"Well I answered the question, didn't I?" I teased, and he sighed.

"Aye, that's true. I suppose that smart mouth of yours is the reason you're an outlaw?" he asked, and I laughed.

"'Course it is! I've got my mother's temper, everyone back home used to say," I replied. "…and since there's nothing much else to do, I suppose I could tell you. But only if you promise to tell me your story once I'm done," I said, and Duran nodded.

"That's fair," he replied, listening as I began.

"Well, I used to live in Denerim. Ah, wait, do you know much about the surface?" I interrupted myself, and Duran shrugged.

"A bit. I know that Denerim is the capital city of Ferelden, and I…know that Elves are treated like our casteless by the humans," he said, and I nodded.

"Saves me some explaining, then. So I grew up in an Alienage. I was…happy enough, I guess – I had family, at least, and a roof over my head. Last month, I was supposed to get married; my cousin and I both were getting married to Elves coming from a city in the north, Highever. During the wedding ceremony, though, the son of a nobleman came down to the Alienage with his friends and carried me, my cousin's bride, and the bridesmaids off," I explained, and Duran's eyes widened.

"I can't imagine the other Elves were pleased. Didn't anyone fight back?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"They're all weak, frightened people, Duran. They don't have the will to fight; not when it's been bred out of them over generations of living in squalor," I sighed. "The only ones who came to rescue us were my cousin, Soris, whose bride had been carried off, and Nelaros, my betrothed. They broke me out of where I was being held – I had been separated from the other girls because I was considered 'dangerous' – and we rescued the others," I continued.

Duran looked up at me quietly for a few moments, seeing the sadness in my eyes. "I don't sense a happy ending to this tale," he murmured, and I nodded.

"Aye. The nobleman put up more of a fight than we expected him to. He splashed wine in my face and blinded me, and while I was down, my betrothed tried to protect me. He…died," I sighed softly, reaching into the collar of my shirt and pulling out a thin leather cord. Looped through it was a perfect gold wedding band, the yellow metal gleaming slightly in the blue light of the tunnels. "This is my wedding band – I pulled it off Nelaros's body." I looked down at the ring as I went quiet, tucking it back into my shirt and patting my heart, where the band rested lightly against my skin. "Anyhow, I murdered the bastard, and held off the castle guards as my cousin and the girls escaped. I was thrown into the dungeon to await my punishment," I continued, and Duran crossed his arms.

"And you escaped, I take it," he remarked, and I nodded.

"Yes. I got out of the city as soon as I could and I traveled here, to Orzammar. I…needed some time away from humans," I sighed, and he pursed his lips.

"That's quite a tale, my friend," he said gently, and I smiled slightly as I saw sympathy in his eyes.

"Thank you Duran. Feels good to tell someone, at least," I breathed, feeling the tightness in my chest that I had held since Denerim loosen slightly. "Now, how 'bout you? I've spilled my guts, now it's your turn," I added with a cheeky grin, and the Dwarf nodded.

"True enough. Well…" he began, crossing his arms, "I'm…Prince Duran Aeducan," he said, and I felt my eyes widen.

"What?" I exclaimed, almost laughing at the absurdity.

"Let me tell the tale, Adeline," he snorted at my interruption, and I nodded.

"Alright," I murmured, seeing that his eyes were very serious.

"The halls of Orzammar run deep, they say, but the blood runs deeper…" he murmured, his voice a deep rumble through the dark tunnels. "I am the second son of Endrin Aeducan. A celebration was held a week ago, in honor of my becoming Orzammar's newest commander. I attended the ceremonies at the palace, where my younger brother, Bhelen, came to me in secret. He told me that our eldest brother, Trian, was planning to kill me, because the Assembly could potentially choose me over him as the next king," he explained, and I raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Wait, being king isn't hereditary for the Dwarves?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Indeed it is not. A king may choose his successor, but the Assembly of deshyr lords and ladies has the final word. Usually they comply with the king's choice…but it isn't unheard of for the Assembly to choose a different Dwarf as their new king. It could even be a commoner. Orzammar's politics are…rather convoluted," he explained. "Now, my brother Trian was…a pompous ass, but I didn't think he had it in him to kill me. He wasn't very good at being subtle," Duran continued. "Not like little Bhelen. That sneaky bastard could charm a casteless out of his last copper, he could."

"Bhelen told me that Trian feared that I would snatch the throne out from under him. He told me that he had overheard Trian giving his men orders to come after me the next day, when I was to lead an expedition into the Deep Roads to find an artifact – the Shield of Aeducan – in the old Aeducan Thaig. I told Bhelen that Trian wouldn't try anything, and if he did, I'd spot it coming a mile away. I also said that I had no interest in the throne – I was happy to be a commander, and let Trian sit as king. The next day, my second, Gorim Saelac, and I headed the expedition into the Deep Roads…" Duran trailed off with a quiet sigh at the mention of his second.

"Were you very close?" I asked gently, and he nodded, his eyes troubled.

"Aye. He was my best friend…my brother. One who wasn't plotting to kill me," he replied, clearing his throat and continuing. "When we got to the Thaig, things went smoothly enough; we killed off any darkspawn and deepstalkers that we encountered along the way. The trouble was when we got to the shield. We were attacked by mercenaries, then, and when we had defeated them, I found Trian's signet ring among their belongings," he murmured, his voice lowering slightly.

"'This can't be happening,' I thought, 'Trian isn't like this'. When we returned to the appointed meeting place with the Shield of Aeducan, Trian was there…lying in a pool of blood with the bodies of his men all around him, still warm," Duran gritted his teeth, his eyes growing cold. "I knelt by my brother's side, horrified…and then Father and Bhelen walked around the corner with their men. There was nothing that I could say to prove my innocence; Trian's blood was on my hands, and the men that were with Gorim and me claimed that we had killed them. They said that they saw us do it."

"They…bore witness to a crime that never happened?" I asked, and Duran nodded, his eyes hard as ice as he glared at the dark tunnel.

"They worked for Bhelen. He set me up to take the blame for Trian's death. We were arrested and dragged back to Orzammar in chains," Duran growled through gritted teeth. "Gorim was exiled to the surface – he can never return to Orzammar – and I have been exiled to the Deep Roads, where I am to walk in darkness for the rest of my days," his voice dropped, and I bit my lip.

"How cruel…" I murmured, and he sighed, shrugging slightly.

"It would have been kinder to execute me then and there. Before Gorim left for the surface, he gave me one last bit of advice; he told me that if I was quick and careful, I might be able to reach the Legion of the Dead, and that they would take me into their ranks," Duran said, his tone hopeful. "He also said that there were Grey Wardens exploring in these tunnels, headed by a man named Duncan – I had met him at the palace the day before, and he had seemed interested in me as a potential recruit. I told him that my duties were in Orzammar, however. I looked for the Grey Wardens on the first day I was down here, but I couldn't find a trace of them. That's why I need to find the Legion. They don't care who you are, or what you've done, so long as you can fight darkspawn," he finished, and I stared at him with wide eyes.

"Wait, you know Duncan?" I exclaimed, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You've heard of him?" he asked, and I nodded.

"He visited the Alienage on the day of my wedding! He said he was looking for something, but he never said what it was," I replied, crossing my arms.

"I suppose we've got more in common than we thought," Duran remarked, and I nodded.

"That we do."

oooo

The two of us became fast friends as we traveled through the Deep Roads; we retraced my steps back to where I had gotten separated from the group, and Duran and I began tracking them, looking for traces of the expedition. We traveled for days, killing darkspawn and catching deepstalkers – they were the only things safe to eat down in the tunnels; even some of the spiders we encountered had the strange Blight sickness that the darkspawn's blood brought.

A week went by in the tunnels, and we came finally to a campsite that had been recently used. "Hey, maybe someone's still nearby!" I exclaimed, and we hurried along, following the trail of fresh darkspawn corpses until we could hear shouting up ahead.

"They seek to breech Orzammar? They're breathing smoke, if we let them breathe at all!" a voice roared, and others echoed a ferocious cry of 'for Orzammar' as a team of armored Dwarves charged a group of darkspawn.

I grinned eagerly, my grip tightening on the pommel of my dagger, and Duran glanced up at me. "You sure you don't have the battle-rage, Adeline?" he joked, smiling crookedly as I let out a laugh.

"Just strong bloodthirstiness, my prince," I replied as we charged, plowing into the darkspawn and tearing them to bits, aiding the legionnaires in their battle.

"Atrast Vala," the lead Dwarf greeted us as the last darkspawn fell, and he tugged his battleaxe from the creature's corpse. "Oh? Is that Prince Duran?" he added as he spotted my companion.

"I am prince no longer. I wish to join the Legion, Kardol," Duran said, and I glanced between the two Dwarves. Kardol looked at him quietly for a long time, seeming to understand, and he nodded.

"I've seen you fight in the Provings, Duran. So long as you can kill darkspawn, you're welcome," the Dwarf said, and Duran bowed his head gratefully.

"Thank you," the prince said, and I smiled.

"You joining too, Elf?" Kardol asked, glancing up at me, and I shrugged.

"Meh, fighting darkspawn's thrilling, but I think I'll be heading back to Orzammar. Say, anyone got a map?" I asked, glancing around. Once I had gotten a map, and one of the Dwarves had given me directions back to Orzammar, I thanked them, walking up to Duran and shaking his hand. "It has been an honor, my friend," I said, and the Dwarf nodded, smiling up at me.

"I'm glad to have met you Adeline. May your ancestors guide your path," he replied, bidding me farewell.

"And you yours." I waved goodbye, traveling back the way we had come, following the directions one of the legionnaires had given me.

oooo

As the days went by, and I neared the city, I began to think about Duncan. I wonder if he and the other Grey Wardens are still down here? It's been a couple of weeks… I twirled my remaining knife absently as I walked; Duran had kept the other to remember me by, and he had given me his signet ring, which I gave an honored place next to Nelaros's wedding band. I hummed a low melody, bored – I already missed Duran's conversations. The Deep Roads were a quiet, lonely place when I wasn't in battle, and I began singing quietly, trying to do something to pass the time.

I sang an old song in Elvish that my mother had once taught me, glancing up as I heard a shrieking sound up ahead. "Ooh, darkspawn? Haven't seen any in a while," I remarked, gripping my knife and trotting forward. I clambered up onto a pile of stones, grinning like a cat as I saw a swarm of darkspawn below, battling a group of three humans.

They were holding their own, but the darkspawn kept coming in from side tunnels; I decided to aid them, leaping into the fight and landing on the shoulders of a large, armored darkspawn, grabbing his head in my arms and twisting hard, snapping the beast's neck. The man who had been battling it stared at me in confusion, and I grinned up at him as the creature toppled forward, and I landed in a crouch. "Don't just stand there! There's darkspawn to kill!" I laughed as I righted myself, patting him hard on the shoulder and plowing into the swarming monsters.

The creatures' shrieks echoed around me, and I lost myself in the heat of combat, laughing and grinning madly as my clothing was splattered with the dark blood. It itched slightly where I touched my skin, and I fought the urge to scratch it, concentrating on the battle. Once the fight was over, I let out a long breath, flicking blood from my blade and sheathing the knife, running a hand through my blood-speckled hair and glancing around at the gathered men.

"Mind telling us who you are?" one of the men asked, still bewildered by my sudden appearance, and I looked at each of their faces, searching for Duncan – these had to have been the Grey Wardens Duran told me about.

"Just a fellow fighter of darkspawn," I replied. I didn't see Duncan around, crossing my arms and shrugging slightly. "Name's Adeline," I added, my tone a little more polite. "You're the Grey Wardens everyone's been talking about, yes?" I asked, and the man nodded. "There doesn't happen to be a Duncan amongst you, is there?"

"…Adeline?" I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Duncan and a pair of Grey Wardens coming down a side tunnel.

"Hello Duncan," I greeted, nodding respectfully to the older man as he approached.

"Everyone in the Alienage thought that you had been executed," he remarked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Executed?" I almost laughed. "Well, unless I'm a ghost and don't know it yet, I'd have to say those reports lack accuracy," I added with a grin. "I…suppose the garrison might have said that to save face after my escape. Say, Duncan, do you know what happened after I left? Soris didn't get taken by the guards, did he?" I asked, all joking aside.

"Your cousins and the other women returned to the Alienage safely and told us what happened. I went to the Arl's estate to ask after you, but the soldiers said that you had been executed already," Duncan explained, and I let out a quiet breath, biting my knuckle and pacing slowly about.

"I hope my letters have reached them, at least…" I murmured, slightly worried. "So what are you doing down here?" I asked, pausing for a few moments. "Oh, wow, did I really just ask that?" I laughed, nudging at the severed head of a darkspawn with the tip of my boot. "I suppose 'killing darkspawn' is the simplest answer," I added, glancing back up at him.

"I see that you have been occupying your time with similar pursuits," the older Grey Warden remarked, and I smiled.

"Well, at least I'm doing some good down here – thinning out the herd a few heads at a time. It's better than rotting away in some jail cell," I shrugged.

"If you're so eager to fight darkspawn, why not go to Ostagar? There's a Blight coming, and the king needs all the help he can get," one of the other Grey Wardens spoke up, and I let out a laugh.

"Hah, good one. You think they'd take me seriously?" I countered. "Even if I was a man, I'm still an Elf," I added.

"Forgive me, I meant no offense," he murmured, and I shrugged.

"None taken," I replied, glancing back up at Duncan. "I'll…um…be heading back to Orzammar now, I s'pose. Need to wash this stuff off before I get a rash or whatever," I said awkwardly, indicating the blood on my clothes.

"Adeline," Duncan said, and I nodded, "I never told you what business I had when I came to the Alienage," he continued.

"Hmm? Oh, I just assumed you were looking for Elder Valendrian," I replied, and he smiled slightly.

"I came to find recruits. I had hoped to speak to you, but your elder outmaneuvered me; I suspect that this was why your wedding was moved forward – in hopes that I might let you remain. Valendrian did the same thing when I came to recruit your mother," he explained, and I felt excitement flash through me.

"You…wanted to recruit me?" I asked, my eyes wide, and he nodded.

"After the incident with the Arl's son, I went to the estate in the hopes of conscripting you. My offer still stands, should you wish to join us," Duncan said, and I felt a wide grin spread across my face. I barely restrained myself from leaping into the air with excitement.

"I would be honored to join your ranks, Duncan," I smiled, taking his hand as he offered it to me.

"Then we leave for Ostagar immediately."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo