A/N: thank you cookies to the people that favourite'd and follow this so soon after it was posted. It means a lot J italics = thoughts and/or memory

Chapter 2 - Hunter

Over the past year Leto had been into the Brecilian Forest just outside of Lothering and had befriended the Dalish clan that was settled in a clearing. The Keeper of the wild elves, Zathrian was quick to trust Leto, being of elven blood and looking the spitting image of his long-lost son playing a large part in that.

The quiet elf spoke few words during his time with the Dalish and their hunters. The Keeper sent him out regularly with the Hunters impressed at how he moved soundlessly through the forest and his skill with weapons that should be way beyond his mere teenage years.

Zathrian at first gave him a small share of the animal pelts they'd collected but over time increasing the amount to both aid the young elf in his quest and keep him coming back. The Tevinter elf kept the younger first-time hunters on their toes by ghosting about nearby and making wolf-calls and growling when the huntress' started chatting and when the hunters were ogling the females in their revealing Dalish leather armour.

How could they let themselves be so distracted on a battle field? He growled internally at the novice's. But he always kept them away from real harm's claws and let the hunters take the kill (or taking the creatures life himself if the elves took too long to draw their bows and the prey had decided it would have a Dalish elf for lunch)

Where did he learn all his skills? Zathrian wondered. The young elf seemed to have been bred to hunt, to fight and kill. He was predatory, the way he charged at group of bears twice his size with all the ferocity of an Alpha Werewolf protecting its life-mate.

He had given the animal pelts to Danal, the barkeeper and landlord of Lothering's only tavern/Inn called "Dane's Refuge" The place where the elf had resided since the Hawke boys had saved him two years ago.

Danal was rather talented craftsman with the fur, he started to sell his creations to travellers and patrons with the profits being split fairly between himself and the elf. Now the elf was making coin of his own he wanted to pay for the roof over his head like everyone else had to but the barkeep still insisted Leto could stay in his without any charge.

Danal had become a father-like figure to Leto since the day he was carried through the doors of the tavern. He was slowly bleeding to death from the wounds inflicted by the band of slavers, but still struggled as wildly as a healthy teenage child against Malcolm Hawkes hold the second he felt magic touch his skin.

That day Leto had screamed 'no' like a mantra curling into the fetal position. Carver Hawke had approached the bed, and softly putting a hand to the thrashing elf's white hair. "Shhh" Carver whispered, his hand slowly adventuring into the blood-stained locks in the hope it would make the elf relax a little.

The elven boy instantly stilled at the contact, his scream seemed to halt in his throat as a wave of calmness seemed to spread through him from the fingertips on his skull.

"Shhh," he whispered again, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he realized the trick his mother used on him when he was upset had actually worked.

The elf had calmed considerably under the raven-haired soothing voice, he felt like he would drift off into sleep if he closed his eyes. He couldn't le himself fall asleep with strangers eyes on him. He found himself asking, "Are you my new master? Aren't you bit young to have a slave?" he rasped out, his large moss-green eyes regarded the human boy suspiciously "Are going to hurt me like the others did?"

Carver's heat felt as if it had been punched upon seeing all the fear, sadness, loathing and pain pooling in the green eyes when his own pale-blue orbs locked on them. "I will not harm you. I promise" He said "You are safe here."

For some strange reason he did – he believed the boys words. Somehow he knew this stranger would not bring him harm even if he begged him to end his suffering.

The mage however made him feel un-easy.

"Why help a slave? I have no coin to give you for your…. kindness"

Malcolm Hawke smiled at the elf, "You staying alive is worth more than coin to me. I know you've had a bad run with magic, but I'm a good mage. My name is Malcolm. I am a healer; I'm here to help you. What is your name child?"

He refused to look at the mage and gave the answer to the question to the raven-haired boy instead. "Leto"

It seemed like only yesterday he let Malcolm's magic stich together his wounds, clear out the infection from the whip welts on his back and refill his blood supply.

The Hawke siblings and Danal brought him food and water every day for the week he was recovering in his room at Dane's Refuge.

"What is it?" Leto asked, eyeing the clear liquid being handed to him by a blonde haired girl who had introduced herself 'Hawke'.

"It's just water" She smiled, grabbing his hands (ignoring the annoyed growl coming from the elf) and curling the fingers around the mug "No poison, no drugs and no magic. Just plain ol' Ferelden water"

It was so strange to be given something as simple as water without having to work for it to the point of collapsing. The question on the tip of his tongue slipped out: "Why do you Hawke's care so much about a slave?"

He didn't expect the blonde to hear it as she reached the doorway

She looked over her shoulder, golden eyes sparkling as she smirked at him "Can't let such a cute elf die now can we?"

He shook the memory from his head before the blush could creep across his ears the present conversation came into focus.

"But I can pay you" the elf protested, repeating himself for the third time and pushing a handful of silvers across back the bar at the human. He furrowed his brow in confusion, "Why do you refuse my coin?"

"Leto," The barkeep sighed, shaking his head and pushing the coins back at the teenage elf. "That day you were rescued I promised Malcolm I would keep a roof over your head for as long as you need, son. You are free to stay until you are a wheezing, crazy old man scaring off my customers with wild tales of tainted Old Gods and the good ol' days of dragon slaying"

Danal chuckled as his mind creating an image of an old long-bearded Leto surrounded by awed children begging him to tell them of his grand adventures. He leaned over the bar placing a hand on the elf's shoulder, smiling fondly through his bushy moustache at the boy "No coin will ever be asked of you, son. This is your home for as long as you wish it to be"

Such kindness still felt so very foreign to the elf. Before he'd met the Hawkes and Danal every human and mage had crossed paths with in the Tevinter Imperium was rough, cruel, twisted with evil and darkness.

But it seemed there was a different breed of humans in this part of Thedas.

Leto's green orbs stared at the middle-aged human in disbelief.

I wouldn't survive a duel with a dragon!

"Wishful thinking, Danal, but I will ever be thatold." The teenager shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "My stories will only be of slavers, bears, giant spiders and maybe a few stray darkspawn meeting my blade but never dragons!"

"You doubt my words?" he frowned briefly, an eyebrow tweaked upwards "Of course, a youth will never believe one day, he too, will mature like a good wine and then become bitter like cheap ale." The barkeep chuckled at what he thought was a rather witty life-summary. "You must never doubt your gift, child. You are a strong warrior. A bear today and dragon slaying tomorrow!"

They shared a smile before the barkeep went back to work and the elf retired for the night