The elf was a little more talkative the next day. Perhaps inquisitive was a better word considering the barrage of questions he asked since they started on the road. "Am I the only recruit you have?"

"No," Duncan replied. "There are two others who will be at Ostagar by the time we arrive. Jory and Daveth." Waking up twice from a combination of cold and taint induced nightmares, Duncan had added an extra layer of socks as well as his bedroll to the inn's meager blankets but still woke up frozen numb. The elf, by all appearances, was in no better condition. He'd been curled in a ball, shivering when Duncan woke him. A simple breakfast huddled in front of the main room's fire had helped take the edge off, but Duncan was still stiff.

"How did you recruit them?"

"Jory was in a tournament in Highever. He is skilled with two-handed weapons. Quite eager to join." Duncan wasn't about to tell Raviathan his misgivings. Though Jory had shown skill, Duncan feared his desire to join stemmed from a belief that the Grey Wardens were simply a heroic order of knights. Duncan had seen that often, men who joined out of a sense of pride but who did not comprehend the enormity of the sacrifice being one of the Grey demanded. While that was not a prerequisite, it could lead to disillusionment later. It had with Genevieve. But with a blight on the way, Duncan felt he had no excuse for excluding the man. "Daveth was a street thief."

The elf seemed to take the news of a street thief in stride. "So Jory was recruited before Howe sacked Highever?" There was a tone to his voice, just the slightest undercurrent of anger, that made Duncan wonder what connections he might have to the Arl. He was surprised the elf knew about it. Most of his kind couldn't care less about human politics, but then Howe was known to dislike elves. Maybe they only kept track of the humans most likely to cause them trouble. That hadn't been Duncan's experience though. Most were dismissive of any lord or the goings on of humans. Tamriel certainly was. It seemed like Raviathan would eventually be a little more open than the other elf. Tamriel, while he was a fine fighter, was more reclusive and bitter which kept him separate from his brothers. Though Raviathan certainly had just cause for some bitterness, he also seemed more open to change.

"He was the first during this recruiting session," Duncan said. "There were two others I had my eye on, but they were off visiting another holding. I returned later to test the knight, but I'm not sure what happened to him in the chaos. The last I saw, he was defending the main hall." They both had known how futile that had been, but it was Gilmore's last action to save as many as he could. "My first choice was the second son of the Cousland family, Aedan, but his father was against it. Unfortunately, I think he fell that night. I only just managed to escape."

"Howe would have attacked a Grey Warden? I thought you were neutral, above such politics."

"Don't ask mobs or despots for reason." The elf conceded the point with a nod. Duncan could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered the issue. "I am surprised you know about Highever."

The elf crossed his arms and looked down. He answered quietly. "Ness was from Highever. She and her family just got out before there was a purge on the alienage."

So, thought Duncan, his wife is a sore spot after all. Duncan recalled the elf's face as he danced with his wife looking as if the Maker's light shined for him alone. They had moved with the grace of an old couple who had danced those steps for decades. Duncan knew they had only been together for two months or so and was surprised to see how close they had become in that time. Adaia had been given a choice because there was no Blight. If not for Vaughan, Duncan wasn't sure he'd have been able to conscript the lad. "There were a few others I was looking for, a dwarven noble, but he died before I was able to recruit him. There was also a promising young woman there, but she did not make it I'm afraid."

"What happened?"

"She ran afoul of a criminal organization."

It was amazing how many of his potential recruits had died, Raviathan thought as looked up at his new commander again. It put his own recent escapade in a new light. Maybe the stuff that makes a Grey Warden also singles them out in other ways. "If there's a Blight on, why not have more?"

"Well, first off Grey Wardens only recruit the best."

The elf cocked his head at him. "You would consider me the best?"

Duncan's mellow voice, dignified with a touch of hoarseness that Raviathan liked listening to, continued, "You took out an entire estate's worth of guards and well trained lords. I would put that high on my list." The elf looked forward along the Imperial Highway as he pondered that. Duncan kept watching him. He was a curious one. "There have been other complications as well. I had my eye on about ten possible recruits, you being one of them."

The numbers seemed unreal. Out of ten, and he was the only one walking with Duncan now. How could so many have fallen? "How much did you know about me though?"

"That Adaia's son was about of age to be recruited. I was hoping you would be your mother's son. Seems I was proven right."

"But you said, 'the best'. You didn't know anything about me."

"I knew you were Adaia's son. That alone was worth looking for you."

Not satisfied with the answer, Raviathan shook his head but let the subject drop. "What about the Cousland son? You said you wanted him as well, and with the Right of Conscription, why bow to his father's wishes? You said the Blight comes over all other concerns."

"True," Duncan replied, "but the Right of Conscription is not without consequence. I'd rather have a family as powerful as the Couslands as an ally instead of having them cut me off from recruiting in the future. They had connections which could also cause difficulties with the other nobles."

After a moment the elf said quietly, "That's why you couldn't help me directly. It'd cut you off from the other nobles who would be angry that the Grey Wardens intervened."

"Quite right."

"You said Blights take decades if not a century to defeat. It's better to take a long range view than what you need immediately."

"Smart lad," Duncan said. Just as Valendrian had said, the elf was thoughtful and reflective. Once he got past his anger, he really was quite insightful.

"How long have you known King Cailan then?"

What had been pleasure at seeing the elf's insight turned to the beginning of alarm. Though the elf had asked the question with the same innocence as the rest, Raviathan was putting things together too quickly. "A number of years. Teyrn Loghain has been the regent for most of that time. Unfortunately, he takes a dim view of the Wardens."

"Why is that?"

"Did you know our Order was exiled?"

The elf looked up at him with interest. "What happened?"

Thankful that the distraction had worked for the moment, Duncan started, "Not everything is known about what happened, but it started with a political coup between the Lady Sophia Dryden and her brother, Arland, for the crown about two hundred and fifty years ago. Arland took the crown, and in lieu of execution, had Sophia made a Grey Warden. You see, Grey Wardens can't have families or titles. We inherit nothing and must relinquish any claims of property or title. But that doesn't mean our former lives are forgotten. Sophia still maintained contacts with many of the nobles and she was quite popular in the Order.

"When Arland turned out to be a tyrant, many of the nobles went to her for support in a rebellion. The Grey Wardens who did not agree with Sophia left Ferelden to join other factions. What was left, around two hundred Grey Wardens, were almost successful in their coup." Raviathan's eyes went wide as he calculated the numbers. "As you know, one of the edicts of our Order is to remain neutral, and this is why. Even if the land is governed by a tyrant, we risk too much if we involve ourselves. The darkspawn are our only concern. Because of Sophia, we were exiled for more than two hundred years until King Maric allowed our Order to return. That was just some twenty years ago."

Wind was gusting from the south, bringing a chill that penetrated through their clothes. "Why did King Maric allow us back in?"

The 'us' as part of the Order was not lost on Duncan. He wasn't sure if Raviathan truly meant that or if he was playing a part until he was close enough to the Brecillian Forest that he could attempt an escape. Considering the circumstances of Raviathan's conscription, Duncan expected more of a fight from the elf and didn't trust this easy acceptance. "I will tell you after you are officially joined to the Order."

Duncan could feel the elf's eyes on him again. It wasn't distrustful, but he could practically feel the elf's mind at work. Again, he was impressed with the elf's intelligence. After a few minutes, Raviathan asked, "How did you become a Grey Warden?"

The dark man did not speak at first. "That is perhaps a story best left to another time."

Raviathan noticed the human was watching him as much as he was watching the human. If Duncan didn't want to speak of his past, Raviathan wasn't going to push him, but he did find Duncan interesting. There was a story, more likely many, in the human, and he was a sucker for a good story. The training he received from his mother and aunt had made him patient if nothing else. He may not hear the story now, but once he learned more about Duncan, learned his behavior and mannerisms, he'd find out. One of the other Grey Wardens might know, which would take less time. In any case, he liked listening to Duncan so switched the topic. "What can you tell me about the history of the Grey Wardens?" A thought occurred to him. "Have there been many elven Grey Wardens?"

To his pleasant surprise, Duncan went on for hours recounting the story of Garahel, the elven Warden who had ended the Fourth Blight and drove back the darkspawn.

The story of Garahel had the effect Duncan had hoped for. One, it distracted the elf from more uncomfortable topics. Though he knew Raviathan had not forgotten the questions that went unanswered, perhaps this would satisfy his curiosity enough to let the others go for a time. Two, it helped him see that he would be valued as an elf, that his race had just as much history and rights in the Grey Wardens. Third, Duncan hoped to impress on him the importance of the Grey Wardens and how vital they were. If the elf understood his importance in the near future, he might be less likely to run away.

The hours passed easily enough, and the two became more companionable. The imposing mountain fortress that was Dragon's Peak was visible from miles away. Raviathan was awed by the fortress like city that perched like a raptor high on the black rock mountain. The mountain was reminiscent of an immense dragon head, from which it received its name. "Are we going to the city?"

Duncan looked up at the massive peak. "Not exactly. I'm hoping to find a vendor closer to the bottom for some basic equipment. There's an inn I want to make before night, and ascending the peak would take out more hours from the day than I'm willing to spend."

Raviathan was disappointed, but he got Duncan started on the Battle of Ayesleigh and that was interesting enough.

The vendors at the base were almost a village onto themselves and catered to travelers and farmers who didn't live in the shelter of the city. Though the Denerim Market carried much more exotic trade from various nations, this was the first time Raviathan had seen another town. A large circle of the dark grey stone of the mountain had been cut away to form a space for all the stalls. Tradetown, as it was called, was conducted at the base of the mountain, and most vendors had a second stall in the city proper for the townsfolk. The whole of Tradetown would stay in the shadow until the midday sun rose over the mountain. At the far side was the first of many gates up to the city. It was inconvenient for business, but a more defensible fortress there was not.

The elf looked about with open curiosity but was content to follow Duncan who looked like he knew where he was going. Duncan said, "You look around like that and you'll be the first target for thieves."

The elf didn't stop though, and his nose lifted to catch the scent of baking pasties from the food stalls on the right. "It's small enough that everyone here knows who's a regular and who's passing through. I'm marked anyway except a poor elf like me isn't worth the trouble for some old clothes that won't fit anyone. I'd take that one first," Raviathan said indicating a henpecked man who was dejectedly following a plump wife. "No weapons, has plenty of money for food, bored and careless. Besides," he said batting his eyelashes at Duncan, "I've got my big, strong warrior with me."

Duncan mouth twitched as he suppressed a grin. "No stealing."

"Wasn't planning on it," he replied.

The first stop was a tailor with some ready made clothing for travelers who could not wait for commissioned attire. Raviathan looked at the goods absently for a bit, but when boredom got the better of him, he wandered over to a nearby paddock by the first gate to Dragon's Peak. There was dung and hay, both unfamiliar scents. Raviathan was use to the garbage of a city and the scent of animals struck him as somehow warmer than the sewage and acidic piss common in the poor sections of a city. Though Raviathan had seen a rich nobleman's horse once, this was the first time he had ever seen donkeys. Dog and ox carts were common for transporting goods in Ferelden with only the nobility able to afford something as exotic as a horse. Horses were never used for anything but displaying wealth.

The horse he had seen had been a beautiful animal with a shining dark coat, Raviathan could admit that, but though fine the animal had been high strung. It had been frightened by the crowd and bared its teeth, its head jerking up high, ears flattened and eyes rolled back. The noble had struck it with a riding crop, making the already aggressive animal balk, its steel shoes striking on the cobble stone street in a loud, painfully sharp staccato. Raviathan and the rest of the elves had shied back knowing they would have been nothing to the huge animal and easily crushed. A year later he and his aunt had cared for a woman whose legs had been trampled by a horse. Even though she would regain the use of her legs, the young woman would bear the marks for the rest of her life. Between the two experiences, he was nervous around the giant animals.

These round, little beasts were quite tame with long flicking ears and fuzzy winter coats, and though solid, were not at all like the imposing muscle of a full horse. Maybe it was just he felt a kinship with smaller animals with long ears, but these creatures had the friendliness of pets. Amused by the odd beasts, Raviathan rubbed a docile roan's nose who grunted in contentment at the affection.

"You be wanting passage then?" an old hunched man asked.

"No, ser," Raviathan replied, stepping back with his head down. "I meant no offense."

Despite his age, the little man appeared wiry. "This one here is Tully," he replied conversationally.

"These are donkeys, aren't they?" Raviathan ventured. "I've never seen one before."

"Oh sure'n they be. Sturdy things they are. Stronger than they look too. Best way to get up the switchbacks, road's as narrow as it be. Here." Unsure about the invitation, Raviathan watched the man cut an apple. "Keep your fingers flat."

Raviathan did as he was shown and smiled as the donkey's soft lips roamed over his hand until he found the apple slice. Powerful, blunt teeth scraped his palm, and Raviathan realized the creature would have been able to bite off his fingers had the man malicious intent and told him the wrong way of holding the apple. He examined the man again, wondering at his kindness.

"Rav," Duncan called.

"Thank you, ser," he said quietly. "Excuse me." He couldn't help a glance back over his shoulder at the elder human.

To Raviathan's surprise Duncan had chosen clothes that were the closest a vendor had to fit an elf. Elves generally made their own clothing, since tailors were expensive, and ready made articles for the poorer customers were all human sized and were only done when a tailor had no other orders. Elven sizes were a rare find at best. The shirts and pants Duncan had bought him, along with a warm cloak for rain, were the smallest available but were over large. At Raviathan's suggestion, Duncan also bought him a simple, grey wool blanket and had the tailor cut a hole in the center so Raviathan could belt it around his waist as a makeshift poncho. "Thank you, Duncan. I've never had tailor made clothes before."

"Think nothing of it. I'm only sorry we can't find something that fits better." Next they found an armorer who was able to make some adjustments to the studded leather armor Raviathan wore so that it fit better, but it was a hopeless cause for the time they had. "Here," Duncan said handing Raviathan two silvers. "Meet me at the road in an hour and bring lunch."

Duncan kept an eye on the elf as he bought a bedroll for the boy and some rations. The old warrior visited with contacts and gathered news and rumors, but mainly he was curious to see what the boy did with some unsupervised freedom. The elf bartered with a vendor over a silverite bowl and candlestick. The vendor was originally not going to deal with him, claiming the goods were stolen, but the elf was able to talk the woman into a fair price.

From there he visited an apothecary stand where he spent considerable time talking to the stout woman. She had been dismissive of the boy at first but warmed to him considerably after a few minutes. They wrote out various recipes to exchange, discussed techniques, and she showed him the multitude of oils and compounds, holding some up to the light and explaining them thoroughly. She glanced around surreptitiously, making sure the guards were busy, then invited the boy behind the stall. They continued to discuss in low voices, casting out the occasional glance to make sure they had privacy. When Raviathan took his leave, they clasped hands with friendly farewells and smiles.

Next the boy bought three books and finally some pasties and mini berry pies with the two silvers Duncan had given him. On time, the elf trotted up to him handing Duncan two of the pasties and two mini pies keeping one of each for himself. When he handed out the left over coppers, Duncan said, "Keep them," speaking around the vegetable and poultry delight in his mouth. Overall he had been impressed with the elf's initiative and purpose and that he hadn't tried to run away, not that this would be the best place to try.

When they left Tradetown, Duncan started on a wide hard packed dirt road that intersected the Bannorn instead of returning to the Imperial Highway. Duncan explained that they would be stopping by Redcliffe, but Raviathan simply shrugged. Geography held no interest for him, and he expected Duncan knew where he was going, and that was fine by him. By late evening they came to the little inn Duncan had planned on. Duncan found the elf's willing ears refreshing. It wasn't that he didn't have the other Wardens' attention—many found the history of the Grey fascinating—but the elf had seemed to drink in his words and asked intelligent questions. He had a way of drawing more of Duncan's opinions out along with the history.

As before, the inn was crowded. Small numbers of militia were often travelling between Ostagar, the capital, and various holdings carrying messages, reviewing the supply lines or the like, and many merchants were moving north for the winter. Just as before, there was one room left with one large bed.

Resigned to the fact that he might have to argue with the elf, Duncan tried for reason first. "Rav, I know this is a sensitive subject, but I can't stand another night like the one before." The elf frowned looking down. "I think you know what I mean."

He rubbed his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Cold."

Duncan wondered again at the elf's reluctance. "It's just sleep."

"I know," he said hunching into himself.

Startled, Duncan realized the elf really would prefer to freeze again rather than share a large bed even when there would be no sex involved. Had there been some abuse he was unfamiliar with? He couldn't imagine Adaia either doing something like that or allowing it. "Would it help if we put the pillows in the middle? Like a wall."

"It isn't that. I know you're not… It's…" Raviathan's brow knit as if in pain. Finally, he looked at Duncan for a long moment. Elven eyes caught the candlelight and reflected it back like sun shining through a stain glass window.

So strange, elven eyes. "Rav? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but I don't understand what the problem is."

Raviathan looked at the bed for a long moment, which made Duncan wonder all the more. Just what concession was he asking for that the elf had to struggle this much? Finally, Raviathan exhaled. "Alright."

The two left for dinner. This crowd was much more sedate, most tired from long travel. The booth Duncan selected allowed for private conversation as they waited for their meal. "Rav, can you explain what happened at the estate?"

Raviathan fidgeted. "What do you want to know?"

"Mainly your tactics. What you accomplished was rather extraordinary."

That seemed to ease the elf. "I poisoned the guards."

"But you weren't carrying poison."

"Rat poison at the estate. Thins the blood. That kind of poison is useful because the rats crawl off to die, so servants don't have to clean them up or miss one and have it rot and contaminate the food. I mixed it with their lunch and in a case of beer. After the poison, the guards were easy to cut down. If there are any who survived the initial attack, they'll be d-dead in a week. Internal bleeding. Then I started a fire, and that distracted everyone enough that Soris and I could sneak the women out." Raviathan kept his head down throughout the story.

"Are you worried about those guards?"

"Some. I didn't see any survivors, but they could have just run. I keep thinking I should send a messenger… or something. So they can be treated. But they'll just hurt us again. Be even angrier after what happened. I don't know what to do, but I know they're dying. Slow. I wonder what they're going through. I don't know if there are survivors, but if there are… I'm torturing them." Raviathan buried his hand in his hair. "I… Duncan, there are things I did, and I don't understand them. Sick things," he whispered.

"Like what?" Raviathan just shook his head at Duncan's question. Duncan rested a hand on the elf's shoulder. "The first person I killed was a Grey Warden."

Raviathan's head shot up. He wasn't crying, but liquid made the natural shine of his eyes dance.

"Do you want to hear about it?" Raviathan nodded. Duncan squeezed his shoulder before starting. "Ser Guy. I was a thief, had been living on my own for years. At the time, I was mad at him for fighting back. Why couldn't he just let me steal the ring? Why did he have to show up to begin with? Why did he have to make it more difficult? I was angry and confused. He was a human who had done me no wrong, and I killed him. By all accounts, he was an honorable man. I could see that. What was worse, he wasn't mad at me. When I killed him, he accepted it. I was conscripted into the Wardens as a punishment. I struggled against the Grey Wardens, against my Commander."

Giving his shoulder a final squeeze, Duncan dropped his hand when a barmaid approached. The woman brought their food, venison stew along with more standard fare. She placed a mug of ale and one of water on the table and left. Duncan ate as if he had had no food in days. Raviathan took a share of the meal but did not eat. "So, what happened?"

"I was a Grey Warden. Eventually, I came to terms with that. To be a Grey Warden is a purpose like no other. There isn't anyone else in Thedas who can do what we do. Rav, what you will become is a guardian. Dwarves, elves, humans, none of that matters anymore when it comes to what we are. They all need protection. They will all need you. I know your instincts are at war right now, but they are exactly what the Grey need. We stop at nothing to defeat the darkspawn. Sometimes that means fighting our fellow man in order to protect them. We must have the courage to do what is necessary, even if it isn't noble or pretty. Guardians aren't always knights in shining golden armor. We do whatever it takes to stop a Blight. If we hadn't in the past, human, elf, dwarf, none of us would exist today. The world would be covered by darkspawn, corrupted beyond recognition."

Raviathan tore the crust off his bread and nibbled it. "I think I understand."

"Give yourself time. What happened was horrible, and the feelings you have are natural. Anyone would struggle in your situation. Myself included."

"You said Grey Wardens only take the best. Do you still want me?"

"Why in the Maker's name wouldn't I?"

"I used poison. The fire. It's not like I'm that great a fighter. I… well, I cheated."

Duncan scoffed. "You weren't stupid, and that's supposed to make you less worthy? Brute strength isn't everything. Grey Wardens are tacticians. Tricksters when necessary. That showed a lot of cunning, Rav. Even in a rage, you think. I find that more impressive than a barbarian with a hammer."

"Really?"

"War machines are powerful, but without a mind to build, direct, or use them, they are only a collection of wood and metal."

Raviathan turned back to his stew, his appetite returned though he ate slowly. "You're a good man, Duncan."

Duncan grinned. "No longer the scoundrel you saw in the alienage?"

A slight smile eased Raviathan's mouth. "No. Last night… If you had any other purpose… but you didn't. I guess I can trust that enough."

"If you ever feel the need to talk."

"Thank you, Duncan."

It wasn't until they were in bed, the elf already curled as far to his side as he could get, that Duncan realized how much extra about the Wardens he had unintentionally told. He smiled as he let sleep overtake him. He'd have to watch himself, but the elf was turning out to be more than just a skilled fighter. He hoped the boy would survive.