Chapter Seven: Passing Through the Walls

The day dawned bright and clear, a brilliant light that Hrodwynn was sure must reach all the way to the Undercity. It made her eyes water when she first stepped outside, behind Aveline and in front of Fenris. The mirror shine on Aveline's uniform didn't help, either. No matter where Hrodwynn positioned herself, there was always some little reflection off of some polished metal that flashed in her eyes. It stung and quickly became annoying, and well before they reached the gate, Hrodwynn was wishing again she had stayed in Anders' clinic.

Then she saw him standing there, waiting for their little group. Oh, sure, Hawke was nearby, deep in conversation with Varric, and Isabela saying something to Merril that made the elf's cheeks turn red and the pirate snicker. But Carver stood slightly to the side of the party, his eyes sweeping up and down the street so he was the first who spotted them. And he smiled, warmly, lifting his hand to draw their attention. It seemed like Carver was looking only at her, and for some reason, that made her heart skip a beat.

Her feet skipped, too. It was a small stutter-step, hardly enough to notice, but quickly she felt Fenris' hand on her elbow steadying her. And just as quickly it left.

"Well, that's all of us, then," Hawke declared when the three of them joined the rest. Hrodwynn shifted her pack on her shoulders and tried not to feel nervous about the sea of uniforms between them and the gates. "Shall we? Hrodwynn, you stay in the middle of the group, between Carver and Merril. These aren't the guards looking for you, but why take chances? Aveline, I think you should be up front with me, just in case the guards are disagreeable about letting us through."

Aveline sighed, "You're using my future position. Again."

Hawke laughed, gracing her with a charming smile and a slight bow. "What's the use of having a position like 'Future Captain of the Guard,' if you can't use it to your advantage? At least every now and again. But I promise, Aveline, I won't abuse your position. Much."

Aveline rolled her eyes, but she moved up next to Hawke's side. The rest of them gathered around, Fenris joining Hawke and Aveline, Varric and Isabela bringing up the rear. Hrodwynn shifted her pack again. Both Fenris and Aveline had offered to take a share of all the salves and potions—she had overpacked not knowing what they might encounter—but she insisted on carrying her own load. There was no way in the Void she was going to give Hawke an excuse to treat her like a child!

The guards at the gate let them pass with hardly a ripple of a fuss, and she felt her shoulders slump with relief as they stepped out from beneath the portcullis. The others carried on light conversations, Isabela telling Varric a story about her pirating days, Merril scoffing disbelievingly, which only encouraged Isabela to embellish more. Varric's eyes the whole time glittered with mirth, his quick mind taking in every detail of the story—and no doubt rewriting it to suit his own taste.

Hawke and Fenris talked quietly, far enough ahead that no one else heard what was spoken. Every once in a while Hawke would turn to glance at the elf, an odd sort of expression on his face, something akin to surprise or… guile? Hrodwynn didn't know, only that the look made her feel strange and want to turn away. She did see that Fenris hardly took notice, his eyes intent on scanning the countryside and seldom resting on Hawke long enough to catch these strange, brief expressions.

The morning passed uneventfully and quietly. Aveline had ranged ahead to scout the path, though what she expected to find eluded Hrodwynn. The world opened up beyond the city gates to a large and empty expanse, without buildings or alleys, only low hills and small bushes, all surmounted by a large blue sky that seemed to go on forever…

"You alright?" Carver asked. He had stayed beside her, even after Merril dropped back and the others pulled ahead. So far he had been as quiet as she, and seemingly content to remain so, mutely listening to Isabela's yarns spinning out behind them.

"Of course I am," Hrodwynn answered quickly, not wanting to draw attention to herself, especially Hawke's attention. Then, thinking Carver might be simply being nice, she asked, "You?" She risked looking up at him, saw his soft blue eyes full of care and concern, and had to offer him a smile, which he warmly returned.

"I'll admit to being a little footsore, but nothing to complain about, yet."

"We could stop at the next pond and let you soak your tired tootsies," Hawke offered, his sarcastic voice thrown over his shoulder. "Otherwise, try to push on a bit longer, would you?"

Carver didn't answer, knowing no matter how softly he said anything, his voice would carry to his brother's sharp ears. He did send an angry, resentful sort of look at his back. When he turned back to Hrodwynn, however, his expression was warm once more. "Is your pack too heavy? I could carry some of it, if you'd like."

"No," again she answered too quickly, feeling guilty as his mouth made an 'O' shape and his gaze dropped away. Immediately she tried to make recompense, touching his arm and softening her voice as she continued, "No, thank you, I can manage."

"Alright," he shrugged, and leaned closer to her so the next part of their conversation might actually stay private. "It's only that, it looks like something's bothering you. You've shifted your pack eleven times since we've started; and, yes, I've counted. I thought, if it was too heavy, I could help with that. But if it's something else…" he glanced ahead of them, seemingly looking at Hawke.

Well, she thought to herself, that sort of made sense. She didn't get along with Hawke, and she knew he'd rather Anders was here instead of her. She was also beginning to see that the two brothers truly didn't get along—she had heard of sibling rivalry, but what was between them went deeper. She also knew, that was something of which she didn't want to get in the middle.

"It's… no… I'm fine, Carver… it's just…" her voice trailed off into awkward muteness. She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a spunky smile, lifting her chin, daring him to contradict her.

He gave a small scoff but gave in, if somewhat reluctantly. "Fine. I'll quit pressuring you. But, Wynnie, if you ever want to talk, I'll listen."

Up ahead of them, though Hawke hadn't heard more than a few syllables of the conversation between Hrodwynn and Carver, Fenris had been able to make out several of the words. It brought to mind a pressing problem of his, and he figured there would never be a better time to bring it up with Hawke. "I, ah," yet again those damnable words stuck in his throat. Fenris had to force the rest of them out slightly rushed, "Need to ask you something."

Hawke heard the tone in his voice, and mistook it for embarrassment. It wasn't often that Fenris spoke, much less asked questions or initiated a conversation with him. He suppressed the triumphant smirk, cautioning himself it might not be what he was hoping—that Fenris was showing interest in him. He kept his expression open and mild as he answered, "Oh? This sounds interesting."

"I… have a problem… " The words were coming out in chunks, but at least they were coming out.

Hawke had to admit his curiosity was almost palatable. Here was Fenris, the proud, self-sufficient, self-freed slave, coming to him with a problem. Not as good as he had hoped, but still promising, still an opportunity for him to create a rapport between them. "Anything I can help with?"

"Unfortunately, I think you're the only one who can."

Hearing the dark and angry tone of voice, he realized he had forgotten to add mage-hater to the list of Fenris' attributes. Oh, this had to gall the elf, asking a mage for help, but making light of it would only alienate him. So Hawke schooled his features even tighter, and waited patiently for him to continue.

"I… can't go to Isabela or Varric; they would only make fun, of her and me."

Hawke nodded sympathetically, encouraging him to elaborate.

"Merril's too… bah!" he made a disgusted noise, making it clear how little he thought of the blood-magic user, "And Aveline's too straightforward. I'm not even sure of it, only suspect it, but if she does, then Aveline's heavy-handedness would not be welcomed. I don't want to embarrass her, only…"

"Yes, well, love to help, but I'm afraid you've lost me," he interrupted. "What is the problem?"

Fenris looked at him, at first a little surprised, then a little confused, and finally a little sheepish. A small exhale escaped his lips, like a self-directed scoff, or it might have been a cough. Hawke imagined he saw the faintest tint of a blush on his cheeks, but he refrained from pointing it out. Fenris faced forward and parted his lips again, the words slipping out a little more comprehensible this time, "I suspect Hrodwynn is developing a crush on me. I need to discourage it; a young girl like her would only get hurt, spending time with someone like me. But… I don't know how… I don't even know if she is…" The words dried up again, and he looked away, pretending to scan the area for danger.

"Ah, I think I understand," he nodded sagely. He had already seen signs of Hrodwynn's infatuation with Fenris, but knowing that Fenris saw it too, and found it unwelcome, made him feel that much more confident he could have the elf for himself. Of course, he'd have to distract the girl first. He could do that fairly easily, but it would be distasteful. Yet perhaps he could use that to his advantage, garner a favor from the elf due to the inconvenience. He didn't smile in triumph, but he did allow a knowing twitch to pull at the corner of his mouth, well hidden beneath his beard. "I think I can help, but it'll cost you."

"I'm afraid of where this is going…"

"Oh, nothing too serious. A favor for a favor, that's all I ask." He leaned in to brush his shoulder against Fenris in a manner that might have been mistaken for a misstep, only he was far too careful of the spiky armor. "And it won't be that large of a favor, I promise."

"Really?"

Hawke could imagine him narrowing his eyes, but Fenris kept his face turned away. "Really. The solution I have in mind is quite simple, but it will inconvenience me somewhat." Fenris remained looking away, so he tried another tactic. "I tell you what. I'll bet you that Hrodwynn won't be thinking of you by the time we return to Kirkwall. If she still shows infatuation, then you don't owe me the favor. Fair enough?"

At last Fenris looked back at him, suspicion still strong in that predatory gaze, but there was a willingness—a need—to trust. "Why do I feel like I'm only putting myself further and further in your debt? I manage to free myself of slavery, only to sell my life into indentured servitude. And to another mage, no less."

Hawke let the implied slur pass. He could understand Fenris' aversion towards mages—he'd have to keep Fenris and Merril separate on future occasions—and the cutting self-loathing he must be feeling, having to go to a mage for help. It would take time, probably a long time, before he could change Fenris' mind about him, but he was sure it would be worth it. "The favor I have in mind won't last longer than a day, I promise."

"What is it?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head a little flirtatiously, allowing the smile to shift his beard out of the way, "There has to be some risk on your part, or where's the fun? So, do you accept my terms?"

Fenris looked away again, but answered, "What choice to I have?" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Very well. I accept your terms. Now, what should I do to discourage her?"

"Nothing," he said glibly.

Hawke watched him snap his head around, sure he popped a few joints in his neck with the suddenness of the movement. He looked at him from beneath ebony brows drawn down in anger, his gravely voice growing darker as he accused, "Is this some sort of trick? Or a joke? Are you mocking me?"

"No, no, calm yourself," he barely kept from flinching at the rage and hatred emanating off of Fenris like a wall of heat. He waited until the other's stance relaxed—minimally—before he explained himself. "Nothing like that at all. I only meant to say, you don't have to do anything; I'll do it."

"You'll speak to her?" he asked, cautious and more than a little disbelieving.

"I'll speak to Carver."

The incongruity of the statement served its purpose; Fenris was completely off balance. His ire evaporated like vapor, his brows scrunched in confusion. "I… I profess, I… don't understand…"

It was hard to resist the long-suffering sigh, but he did his best. "Carver has a crush on Hrodwynn—has since the first moment we met her. And yes, I am sure—he's my little brother; I've known him all his life. He's as easy to see through as water. And just as easy to manipulate." He stole a glance, and was encourage to see Fenris' expression soften minutely. "All I have to do is discourage him, or even better forbid him to spend time with her. He'll start pursuing her all the more, and I don't doubt she'll take an interest in him—someone closer to her own age—should he show an interest in her. I haven't so far simply because I know how he'll react, and though I really couldn't care whom he sleeps with, I'd rather not know about it. But once I start making any sort of protesting or discouraging noises, he'll push harder for her attentions." Hawke finally let go of the sigh, a little dramatically, but it was warranted. "Now you see why you'll owe me a favor? Carver's going to be insufferable, mooning after Hrodwynn, speaking of her constantly, creating excuses to spend time with her, bringing her along on every little errand… ugh!"

Fenris hardly registered Hawke's finishing tirade, thinking that he should have thought of this himself. He had noticed the way Carver acted around her—his little gestures and warm smiles, the clumsy touches that he tried to make seem accidental. He supposed the option hadn't occurred to him because he had been aware that Hawke didn't get along with Hrodwynn. Yet if he was willing to do this, to encourage his brother to spend time with a girl he didn't like, for his sake… "Are you sure?"

Hawke winked at him, knowing he'd just made progress in his relationship with Fenris. "Watch." He turned around suddenly, walking backwards so he could look at the two full in the face, and declared loudly, "Would you leave the poor girl alone? You're embarrassing her. If you're serious about her satchel, you can help her repack it when we make camp tonight and take some of the weight yourself. Until then, stop pestering her. You're being too obvious about it." He finished with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

Hrodwynn hadn't been expecting the abruptness of Hawke's declaration, or the way his voice easily carried down the path to them and further to the others behind. She could hear Isabela's chuckle, Varric's interested hum, and Merril's curious little oh.

She could also feel Carver tense beside her, the indignation making the muscles of his arms tremble. Before she merely hadn't wanted to get between the two brothers; now she added not wanting to be the cause of their dissension. "Carver," she said softly, taking hold of his upper arm, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. "Carver, please, I'm fine, it's not the pack, really, it's not too heavy, just…"

"What?" he pressed, perhaps a little too heatedly after his brother's goading.

"Hawke!" Aveline's call interrupted their conversation. She had returned to their group, or rather they had caught up to where she was waiting for them, leaning against a large boulder. The road had reached a stream, crossing it over a stone bridge. On the near side was a small grassy area just large enough for their group to sit comfortably. "I thought this might be a good place to rest for a bit, have a bite to eat and the like. Not all of us are used to marching all day on empty stomachs."

"Oh, good idea," piped up Merril. "I could do with a bite of something."

"So could I," Isabela agreed suggestively, sauntering up to the small stream and shrugging out of her pack, arching her back and thrusting her breasts out.

"Hungry already, Rivaini?" Varric chuckled, "And here I thought you would've gotten your fill last night."

"Perish the thought, Varric. Why?" she tilted her head, her eyes casting up and down the length of him. "Do you know where I can get my hands on some meat way out here?"

Aveline reached into her pack and tossed something at Isabela. It bounced off her ample bosom and landed in the grass at her feet. "This should hold you over."

Isabela bent over to pick up the dried beef. "Thanks."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Aveline; she simply chose to ignore it. "Don't mention it."

"I won't."

"Well, seems the decision's been made," Hawke declared, only somewhat disgruntled. "And I suppose this stream would be a good place to replenish our water supply. We'll rest here for an hour, then move on. I'd like to find a good place to camp before it gets dark."

Hrodwynn gratefully slipped out of her pack, but kept a tight grip on the straps as she set it carefully on the ground. She didn't want any of the glass vials or jars to break. With the weight off her shoulders, she stretched her neck and rubbed at the soreness there, feeling the tenderness that warned her skin was red and raw. Again she thought it would have been better to have stayed in Anders' clinic, even if she would have had to remain hidden in her little loft, constantly on guard against surprise search parties.

Then Carver was there, standing over her, a timid, hopeful sort of expression on his face. In his hands was a handkerchief, dampened and cooled by the water from the stream. "Here, this should help," he held it out to her as a sort of offering.

Despite the coolness of the cloth, his hands were warm. Very warm. She felt the heat as her fingers lifted the rag from his. "Thank you," she blushed, draping the cloth around her neck.

"Would you, that is," he leaned in closer so he could speak even softer, "Would you want to walk for a bit? I know we've been walking all morning, but we could put some distance between us and the others. Just to sit and talk. Privately."

He wasn't going to drop the matter about what was causing her discomfort. She took a deep breath, but started walking with him, her eyes on the ground, not sure what to say, what the right words were that could express her feelings. "It's not the pack, Carver, really. I mean, I know it's heavy, I packed it, and I didn't know what to expect, so I probably packed way too much and too many things we won't need…"

"Fine, it's not the pack," he allowed. "But there is something bothering you, isn't there?"

They were upstream from the others, who had remained sitting comfortably on the grass. Hrodwynn glanced over her shoulder before they disappeared from view behind a small hillock. "I… maybe… perhaps… I don't know… what… to say…"

Carver swallowed, nodding as if he understood her hesitation. "It's that knife ear, isn't it? I knew we shouldn't have let you spend the night with him. What did he do? Did he hurt you? Scare you? Did he… did he touch you…?"

"What?!" she finally managed to overcome the shock regarding his vehemence and tried stop his groundless accusations. "No! Fenris didn't… do… anything. He…" The memory of taking the healing potion and her babbling through supper came back to mind. "We talked, had somewhat to eat, went to bed." She bit her lip and shut her eyes tight, trying hard not to think about his putting her to bed. He'd only taken off her boots and covered her with a blanket, completely innocent, but it didn't seem Carver would be inclined to believe such a thing. "I mean, separate beds. Separate rooms! Nothing happened. If anything, he was very nice."

"Then…" he allowed her excuse, at least where Fenris was concerned. But he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn't let it go. "Hrodwynn," he started again, paused to cup her chin and get her to look at him, "Wynnie, please, I've felt you trembling all morning, ever since we left Kirkwall. Something's the matter. What is it? Tell me, please, I want to help."

She swallowed, blinking rapidly at the sensation of her heart racing as if she was running from those mercenaries again. And she wanted to run, the impulse almost overpowering, the need to run away from something she couldn't define. It took three tries of opening her mouth before she could manage to make sounds, and a couple more tries before they would form words. "Sky… grass… hills… go on… forever… no walls… no streets… open… no cover… no people!" She hiccoughed, trying to pull all the emotion back inside, but it was no use. In a final blurb, she moaned, "It's so empty out here!"

Carver was shocked into stillness for almost three seconds, never having imagined anyone would go through what she was feeling. Then he pulled her to his chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively. "I think I understand," he spoke gently. "You've never been outside Kirkwall before, have you?" She shook her head, her cheek rubbing against the lacings on his vest, her hair catching in a buckle. He pulled the strands free before they could tug at her scalp, then left his hand in place, stroking through her short locks.

"No. Never. At least, not that I remember." She bit her lip, trying to stop the chattering, but it was no use. Once started, the words couldn't stop. "Why does it go on forever?"

"What?" he was slightly perplexed at her question.

"The sky," she pulled back slightly to look up at him. "It's way, way, up there. And it reaches all the way around like… like… like some monstrous awning that's gonna fall on us and… and we'll be trapped and suffocate and…"

He wanted to laugh, but he knew that would upset her more. "It's not an awning," he reassured her. "And it's not going to fall. Think of it as a ceiling, one that's too high for you to reach. You should be used to that, having things out of your reach, being so short and all."

She knew he was teasing her, and wanted to slug him for it, but instead had to duck her head to hide the giggle. "That's not funny."

"I'm sorry for teasing you," he apologized. "But, truthfully, the sky isn't going anywhere. And as for the emptiness, look around. No, really," he held her shoulders and pushed her back from him, just enough so she could see something other than his chest. "Anytime you start feeling overwhelmed, I want you to look around. There are hills nearby. Mountains further off, like the one we're headed towards. And there are trees and bushes. Lots of rocks. And animals. Loads of birds, and rabbits, and foxes, and…" he paused to swat at something biting his neck, "…insects."

This time she let him see the giggle.

"Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Yes, I do. Thank you, Carver." She reached up on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

"For calming your fears?" he wondered aloud, his hands back to her shoulders, keeping her from slipping away.

"That too, but mostly for making me talk when I didn't want to. And for understanding, and not making fun of me."

"In all fairness, I did make fun of you, just a little."

"Yes, you did," her eyes narrowed dangerously, "And I'm gonna make you pay for that. Later. For now, I think we should get back to the others, while we still have time to eat something before we have to start marching again."

He pulled a small packet out of a pouch on his belt. "Or we could eat right here," he offered, unwrapping it to reveal the wedge of cheese. "Not much, I know, but you don't really want to do a lot of walking on a full stomach."

"This is fine." She sat down on the ground next to him, sharing the cheese as he pointed out all the things to look at, all the things that filled up the emptiness, so she wouldn't feel quite so uncomfortable.

"You know, you could talk with Merril," Carver offered after they were finished eating. "She has kind of the same problem, but opposite. She's lived all her life out in the countryside, and moving to a crowded city with lots of buildings and very few trees upsets her as much as the open countryside upsets you."

Hrodwynn looked up at him, a curious little smile on her face. "I think I will do that, when we get back to Kirkwall. Right now," she stood up and dusted off her backside, "We should go before your brother leaves us behind."

"There's time yet," he stalled, jumping up to move between her and the road. He really didn't want to go back there, not yet, not while they had had such a good conversation, and were relatively alone. The bright sunlight set her hair aflame with deep red streaks, like strings of rubies falling through the strands. He pulled his fingers through the locks, enjoying the feel of the short, soft hairs.

Hrodwynn swallowed, not sure what she was feeling, not sure what he was doing, but knowing it was making her heart beat faster again, though in a much more agreeable way than before. He tilted his head and bent his neck, lowering his face towards hers. She kept still, paralyzed by uncertainty, as her mind raced with one thought: oh, bloody Void, he's going to kiss me…

His lips touched hers, sending her eyelids crashing closed, choking her breath in her throat. It was… pleasant, and warm, and new, and frightening, and exciting, and…

"Here you are!" Hawke's caustic voice was far too loud and close, making them start guiltily away from each other. "So glad you didn't fall into the stream and drown, or get yourselves carried off by ravenous werewolves."

Carver clenched the fist at his side, and the hand on her shoulder tightened fractionally. He turned his head far enough to see his brother striding towards them. "Garrett…"

"If the two of you are done snogging, do you think we could get going? I'd like to get as far as we can today, so there's less traveling to do tomorrow. Don't know what we'll find at the mine, but it would be best not to be too tired out from the trek."

"We weren't snogging, we were…"

"Don't even try, Junior," Varric advised as he came up beside Hawke, his crossbow at the ready, obviously having expected danger when the two of them hadn't returned to the clearing. He had a hard time suppressing a smile as he rehung his crossbow down his back. "It wouldn't be very convincing, not with the looks on your faces."

Carver set his jaw, hating the knowing winks they were giving him. He took her hand and started back towards the road. "Come on, Wynnie, let's go get our packs and leave these dirty-minded busybodies to themselves."

Hrodwynn had to almost run to keep up with his long strides, but she was as willing as he to leave the smirking Hawke and chuckling Varric behind them. Back at the clearing, the others were milling around, packs and weapons at the ready. Carver helped Hrodwynn into her pack before grabbing his.

"Everyone set? Good. Let's move out. Carver, why don't you scout ahead this afternoon? See if you can find a nice place for us to make camp."

It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order, one that Carver couldn't refuse. He thought about taking Hrodwynn with him, but knew that would be a bad idea, especially if they came across any trouble. He gave a surly nod and started off at a jog to get ahead of everyone.

The rest fell back into their earlier subgroups, with Aveline taking Carver's position beside Hrodwynn and walking along in comfortable silence. Fenris had watched Carver head off before turning to look at Hawke, who gave him a cheeky wink. "Like I said, you didn't have to do a thing."


"And there are so many buildings," Merril was chattering pleasantly at Hrodwynn's elbow, "They seem to go on forever. Like I'm in some sort of maze, and I'll never be able to find my way out again. At least, I had been feeling that way, until Varric gave me that ball of yarn."

Hrodwynn thought she had to be joking this time, but Varric called out a, "You're welcome," from the other side of the campfire that made her reconsider.

Carver had found a copse of trees, hidden from the road behind a low hill, that made a perfect campsite. So perfect, in fact, that it showed evidence of having been used before. Not too recently, however, nor too often to put Hawke off the idea of using it for the night. Hrodwynn had watched with amazement while the others quickly set up camp, each seeming to know what they needed to do, even though she was fairly sure they had never camped together before. When they were finished—partly to make up for her lack of help earlier—she had volunteered to cook supper.

Now they sat around the fire, talking, trading stories, and subtly arguing over who would clean the dishes stacking up beside the wash bucket. "That's kind of how I feel about this," Hrodwynn admitted, glad that she had taken Carver's advice and started the conversation with the Dalish elf. It felt good to open up to someone, to share—even a little bit—of her private thoughts and fears. "I've never been outside the city before, at least that I can remember, and seeing all this, well, openness, gives me the jitters. I mean, where are all the buildings? Where do the people live?"

"Oh, well, my people, the Dalish, we live where we please. Travel in aravels pulled by halla."

Hrodwynn shot her an amused smile. "That made absolutely no sense, other than the live-where-you-please part. But what about the other people?"

"What other people?"

Hrodwynn blinked, unsure how to explain.

"The humans live in their towns and cities," Merril continued without skipping a beat. "The dwarves mostly live underground in their own cities. A few live up here on the surface, like Varric."

"I'm glad I wasn't forgotten," he deadpanned.

"The other elves, well, they generally live in the cities, too, in places like the Alienage. If they're not servants or slaves, that is. Then they live in their master's house."

"But," she tried to get the subject back on track. Fenris was talking quietly with Isabela, and Hrodwynn noted the dark look he shot at Merril when she spoke of servants and slaves. "But where do the people live out here? Where there aren't any houses."

"Oh. They don't," Merril admitted matter-of-factly. "If you don't see a city or a town with farmland around it, or a clan of Dalish, then there are no people living in this area of the countryside."

Hrodwynn felt a little shudder at those words, imagining all the emptiness. No, not empty of everything, merely empty of people. She forced herself to look around them. Like Carver said, there were other things here to fill the space. And at this moment they were camped within a sort of room made from the tightly packed trees, the branches spreading overhead to almost block out the night. And the sky was only a big ceiling, and ceilings didn't fall on you.

"You alright?" Merril asked, setting her hand on her shoulder.

"Yes!" she pulled her eyes down from the irregular opening through the branches. She saw Merril looking at her with sympathetic eyes and gave her a bright smile in return. "Yes, I'm fine, just a little… I don't know…"

"I understand," Merril nodded.

"You know," added Varric, settling himself on her other side after dropping his plate off by the bucket, "A lot of dwarves feel the same way, the first time they come up to the surface. They take one look at that sky, and start to feel like they're going to fall up into it."

"Wonderful," Hawke said drolly, stacking his plate with Varric's, mutely stating he wasn't going to do the washing up either, "Give her another anxiety."

"Only trying to help. They do say misery loves company."

"No, that's alright, Varric. I appreciate the thought." She gave a nervous sort of titter. "Actually, I don't feel so much like I'm going to fall up into it, as it's going to fall down onto me."

"Why would it fall?" asked Merril.

"Well, because. What's holding it up?" returned Hrodwynn.

"Nothing. Nothing's holding it up."

Hrodwynn stared at her for a long moment, the firelight flickering over their profiles. "Yup, not helping."

"Don't worry, Button," Varric said soothingly, "Even if the sky falls, you and me will be just fine. We're short enough, it'll hit everyone else on the head first."

She let the giggle out this time, unable to help herself, imagining the big blue plane smacking Hawke in the head, the big-headed arse able to prop it up all on his own. Then another thought occurred to her, and she had to ask, "…Button…?"

"Yes, Button, as in 'cute as a…' Not as good as 'Kitten,' but it'll do. At least you and Merril won't get confused over who's who. Well," he leaned in close to whisper for her ears only, "Merril won't get confused. Never worried about you for a moment."

"Hah!" declared Isabela triumphantly, backhanding Fenris on his chest. "I won! Pay up."

"I'll pay," Fenris groused, or he might not have groused, it was hard for anyone to tell the way his voice was always so deep and vexed. "The next time I have the coin, that is."

"Bah, I knew I should never make a bet with an elf."

"What bet?" Hawke asked, wondering if he should fish around for the coin to cover Fenris' debt, or if the offering would insult the proud elf.

"I bet Fenris that I could get Varric to change his nickname for Hrodwynn. He did. Now Fenris owes me three silvers. And I have all of you for witnesses."

"I'm good for it."

"Of course you are, love," Isabela leaned against his arm, mindful of the spikes. "A woman like me, just wants to have a little extra insurance. You understand." She cocked her head, a wicked smile spreading her pouty lips. "I tell you what, I'll make a new bet with you: that I can guess the color of your underpants before we get back to Kirkwall. Double or nothing."

"Deal," he said quickly, almost too quickly. "But you can't guess a color like 'green;' you have to be specific, as in 'chartreuse'."

"Fine," she readily agreed, "Chartreuse?"

"No."

"Mint?"

"No."

"Lime?"

"No."

"Celadon?"

"No."

"Is it even in the green family of colors?"

"No hints."

Hawke cleared his throat loudly.

"So, Hrodwynn," Varric talked a little louder to cover up the guessing game, "You finally cracked a Siggerdson, huh?"

"Ah…" she glanced nervously at Aveline, who was trying not to look like she could hear. "You know it wasn't me, Varric. You said I was with you all day yesterday."

He laughed, clapping her on the shoulder, as Merril moved away to start washing up. "That I did. Still, whoever did it, they would have quite a reputation now, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled broadly, nodding and catching on, "That would be the reason to risk it, wouldn't it? I mean, I know I would like to have that sort of reputation, being one of the few people who could crack a Siggerdson. It was the reason I joined up with you on Fenris' job, because there was supposed to be one involved. Still, it's not something one can talk about, is it, or people will think you're just making it up."

"Exactly," agreed Varric. "You have to go carefully when building a reputation. You can't spread it yourself, or you appear a braggart. But if it gets out that a Siggerdson was broken into, by some mysterious person, whose physical description might sort of resemble you…"

Hrodwynn blushed. "Amazing how even in broad daylight, no one got a clear enough look at her, did they."

"Careful, Button," Varric hummed, "You're almost bragging."

There were several sputters of laughter around the campfire, and a loud cough from Aveline's direction.

"Hrodwynn," Merril knelt in front of the bucket, talking while happily scrubbing away at the remains of supper, "I've been meaning to talk with you, get to know you a little better. You sit and listen to the stories we tell, but we hardly know anything about you. For instance, I know you're staying in Anders' clinic, but he's not family, is he?"

She shook her head. "No, I met Anders last winter, while looking for a warm place to spend the night."

"See? That's it exactly. You've hardly talked about yourself, where you come from, do you have any family, things like that."

She shrugged, dropping her gaze to the fire, uncomfortable with the thought that everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to speak. Even Isabela and Fenris had paused their game to listen. "I'm pretty much what you see. A young woman. Good at picking locks. And staying in Anders' clinic, I've learned a little about healing, too. Not much else to know."

"But," Merril was oblivious to the suggestive stare Hawke was giving her, or Varric's uncomfortable shifting as he tried to think of a topic to interrupt them. "But, don't you have family? Parents?"

She pursed her lips a moment before answering. "Suppose so. At some point. Must've, right?"

"Don't you remember them? Oh, did they die?" she asked quietly, her voice compassionate as she paused in her scrubbing to give the girl her full attention.

Hrodwynn drew one knee up to her chin, resting her cheek on it as she spoke to the flames. "I don't know," she admitted softly. "I… I can't remember."

Merril set aside the last plate and said softly, "Oh, you poor thing. What happened? I mean, what can you remember?"

She tried hard to ignore the burning sensation behind her eyes, not wanting to cry in front of the others or they'd think she was just a child. "I…" her voice was raspy, and she had to give a little cough to clear her throat before she could answer. "I don't remember anything before a few years ago. The first memory I have, I'm lying on some wooden boards, and my head hurts, and it's bleeding. There's shouting behind me, and I remember feeling afraid but I can't remember why." She gave another shrug, "And then I was running. Just… running, trying to get away from the shouting, from the fear, trying to find a place to hide. Guess I must've fallen or jumped off of a ship, and hit my head when I landed on the docks.

"I stopped running somewhere in Lowtown," she continued, not really knowing why. Maybe it was like her fear of the openness, that talking about it—sharing it with someone—made her feel better, "Next to a merchant's shop. Owned by a nice lady, Margret, a Ferelden. She saw me trying to keep warm, curled up on her stoop. She took me in, bandaged my head, gave me some food, and a name when I couldn't remember mine. She even tried teaching me her trade. Only she was old, and died a few months later. She said she was going to leave me some money, but after her death her son came and said there was nothing for me, and I had to leave, unless I wanted to become his 'special assistant'."

Isabela's eyes grew dark and dangerous, one hand itching to stray to the handle of her dagger. But it was Aveline who spoke, her words more a statement than a question. "So you headed to Darktown."

Hrodwynn nodded, "Had to. No place else to go. And I hadn't made any friends, besides Margret. I taught myself how to pick pockets, and locks, and pick up any extra coin that others didn't want or were too rich to remember they had. Never stole from anyone who needed the coin themselves. Moved around the city a lot, until I met Anders and decided he needed me to look after him. It works out alright between us: he keeps a roof over my head, and I make sure he remembers to eat once in a while."

"This merchant fellow," Isabela asked, not wanting to let that part of the story slip past, "Is he still around? I'd like to pay him a visit!"

"He's gone," she sighed, "Spent all his profits on drinking and gambling, and when the Blight hit, he didn't have anything left to see him through the slump in business. I think he ended up getting rolled in a back alley, his throat slit by people he owed money to."

"Not satisfying," she growled low, "But fitting enough, I suppose."

"So, that's why you took a Coterie job," inferred Varric, "Because it was at the Harbormaster's Office. Hoping to find a clue to your past, or the ship you fell from, or something?"

She nodded. "Stupid, really. The safe was full of papers, but I couldn't read them. I mean," she looked up at Aveline, her eyes wide, suddenly realizing what she had confessed to, "Ah, that is, I didn't…"

Aveline sighed. "Never mind, Hrodwynn. Tell you what: I can look into this for you, if you want. When did you arrive in Kirkwall? Before the Blight, you said?"

"Yes. About four years before."

"When we get back to Kirkwall, I'll take a look through the records at the Viscount's Keep, see if I can find any reference to a missing person from around that time, someone who matches your description."

"Thank you, Aveline." New tears were trying to form, stinging her eyes for new reasons. Here was a woman, from a different side of the city—a different side of the law!—who was willing to help her, knowing she would receive no personal gain. This was not the sort of person she was used to dealing with, and it left her feeling hopeful, like maybe she just might find out something about herself.

"I just need to know about how old you were when you arrived. Any idea?"

"What?" she asked, that slim shimmer of hope fading quickly.

"How old are you? If you arrived in Kirkwall, say around 9:26, that would make it five years ago. If you're twenty now, that would put you about fifteen then, so I'd know to look for a missing young woman. But if you're only fifteen now, then you would've been ten back then, and I should look for reports of a missing child."

"I… I don't know my age."

"You must have some idea," Aveline pressed on doggedly, not seeing the tears forming. "I'd guess you're young, still growing, as you're taller than a dwarf but shorter than an elf, though not by much. Fenris can just see over the top of your head, but he's tall for an elf. So, how about it? Are you still growing? Or are you just short for a human?"

Hrodwynn was silent, unsure how to answer.

"Let's try something different," Isabela offered, but Hrodwynn got the feeling this wasn't going to be much better. "Something a little more definitive. You've been getting monthly visits, haven't you?"

"Maker!" Hawke swore, "Do you have to bring that up?" He looked directly at his brother before adding, "And you wonder why I prefer men."

Hrodwynn buried her face in her hands, unable to believe that the heat from her cheeks wasn't burning her skin.

"Well," Isabela prodded, and got a nod in response. "For how long, now?"

"Two years." Her voice was small, barely carrying far enough to be heard over the crackling of the campfire.

"Hmm," she tapped the stud through the skin beneath her lower lip, "That would make you, oh, about fourteen or fifteen. There you are, Aveline. Look for records of a missing girl, around nine or ten, from the year 9:26. And Hrodwynn," she waited until the girl dared to peek between her fingers. Then she lifted her water skin in salute, "Happy fifteenth birthday!"

"Happy birthday!" Carver quickly followed suit, as did the others.

Hrodwynn risked a timid smile, still feeling the heat of embarrassment, but not so badly as before. These really were nice people, if a little bit of a strange mixture of rogues and soldiers, beggars and nobles. Most importantly, however, wasn't the fact that they were so diverse, as the fact that they accepted her. Even Hawke, taking a deep swallow in her honor, seemed to have set aside some of his arrogant disdain for her.

And when her eyes slipped to Carver, the heat returned, though in a strangely enjoyable way.

A/N: there, a little bit of the mystery behind Hrodwynn has been cleared up. (What, you expected a full reveal? Where's the fun in that?)

I had to, just had to put in the guessing game between Isabela and Fenris. It was too damn funny. And reminded me too much of the old Xanth novels… (Yes, I know, I give some obscure references from time to time; get used to it.)

Just in case you didn't catch it, or don't suffer from it yourself, Hrodwynn was experiencing a mild attack of agoraphobia. I figured, being that it was her first time ever beyond the walls of Kirkwall, it called for a little something, and agoraphobia is a condition I deal with—though thankfully not to a debilitating extent. I kept her reaction mild, too, because I don't want her to actually start suffering from the phobia. So much yet to do in this story, she doesn't need that!

But, personally, I do so get the dwarves and their fear of falling upwards into the sky :'D