Life as a Grey Warden was hard.
But also exciting and short. I finally felt as though I fit in somewhere, even the Joining not so frightening in the face of my excitement, though we lost one of the recruits from my group. The man we lost had nowhere else to go and so we buried him as though he were one of us. There was respect from the Grey Wardens in all sacrifices, especially in the ones we couldn't have known.
The men could be as quiet as the Chantry halls, serious and deadly, but there was also laughter, drinking and life. I felt as though my past had served me well here; the men – even veterans with twenty years on me! – asking for my thoughts on dealing with the magic-using darkspawn. I felt warm and respected and finally – Finally! – wanted. I belonged.
I would defend my Brothers (and Sisters, if we'd had any) with my life and share with them my spirit. And Duncan – bless the Maker – had seen that need to belong, to give my heart to something…and had found me worthy. I would forever hold him in the highest esteem for being the first person to truly believe in me.
Even when they laughed at my antics, I never felt as though there was something malicious behind it. So I acted silly to make the men who sacrificed their longevity for vigilance laugh. To see the joy in the lives they were defending. And I knew that they loved me for it, just as I loved them.