The afternoon rain had subsided leaving a crystalline night of pure clean air and freezing cold. They were miles past Lothering, making up time by using a hunter's trail through the Hinterlands that Duncan was familiar with. The camp they used was well established with two logs set around a rock lined fire pit. Once the tree needles had been brushed away to prevent accidental fires, the clearing was ideal. Trees provided a partial break from the constant chilled wind, and there was ample flat space for their tent. The Imperial Highway was only a half mile off, so with this route they would be at Ostagar by midmorning.

Huddled before the fire, Raviathan shivered, his breath visible like the smoke of a sleeping dragon. The makeshift poncho was helping, but Ferelden's cold had a way of penetrating through the warmest of furs. Fingers numb beyond feeling, Raviathan had to concentrate on watching the needle so he didn't prick himself. Keeping his eyes on the flashing needle, he asked, "Duncan, how do you evaluate recruits? What do you look for? And would you give the pot a stir?""

"This smells good. There's skill, of course, though I value potential more. Skills can always be developed. As for personality, hard to say, Rav. There isn't one ideal Warden. We look for courage, a willingness to sacrifice, thoughtfulness in difficult situations, all of which you've demonstrated. Choosing recruits is more art and developed instinct rather than science. I know many Commanders who have their own methods, and most disagree with each other. I've heard long discussions arguing various points, but people are much more than a collection of discreet traits. What's worked for me is instead of thinking what I would need from an individual Warden, think of what I need from a group. Wardens need tacticians as much as muscle. The more varied your Wardens, the more resources you have at your disposal."

Raviathan frowned as he adjusted the shirt he was working on. "You said you tried to get a mage from the Circle. If a mage joins the Wardens, doesn't that make them an apostate? How do you keep them safe from templars?"

Wincing slightly from a knotted old scar that stretched across his back, Duncan straightened. Magic was often a sore spot with many who were new to the Order. Duncan had a friend when he was a street thief in Val Royeaux who had some minor talent. That had been his first introduction to magic. He never feared it the way most men did. His openness made working with Fiona easier. Being an elf had set her apart more than being a mage had.

Experienced Grey Wardens learned to value their mages for their ability to heal or inflict great damage from a distance. Luckily, Raviathan didn't sound hostile about the possibility of working with mages, only curious. "Mages are highly valued but difficult to come by. The Circle does keep a tight rein; however, once a mage joins the Wardens, they are unbound by Chantry regulations. There was a mage who had promise but was made tranquil before I could recruit her."

"Made tranquil?"

"It is a process I am unfamiliar with, but it takes the magical ability away from a mage," Duncan said. Raviathan shook his hand when the needle accidentally pricked his skin then stuck his slender finger in his mouth. His eyes reflected the orange in the fire along with his own unique turquoise, refracting light much like cat eyes. The way elven eyes flashed in low light made them appear more alien than during the day, or more beautiful depending on one's preferences. No matter how closely elves resembled humans, moments like this reminded Duncan that elves were a creature of a wholly different nature.

The tranquil girl's eyes had lost the luminescence that marked the elven race. Her empty gaze haunted Duncan's memory like a lurking shadow. Mages like Neria were desperately needed now, but the loss of her soul depressed Duncan more than if she had died. "Tranquility also takes away their emotions and the ability to dream."

"I didn't know that was possible." Perhaps mages made him nervous after all. Duncan stirred the pot again not letting the lad notice his scrutiny. Raviathan continued his sewing, intent on his work. "Why did they do that to her? Is the practice common?"

"There was some business about an escaping blood mage. She helped the mage, and the Knight-Commander of the Templars made her a tranquil as punishment. As for how common the practice is, I couldn't say. The punishment in that case was considered exceptionally harsh. The First Enchanter was outraged. What are your feelings on the subject?"

"Of magic or being made tranquil?"

"Both."

"I think magic could be useful," he admitted. "The tranquil. It takes away their emotions?"

"Yes," Duncan replied. "Once you have met one, you can spot them easily. They cannot love or feel hate. There is no joy, but there is no sorrow."

Raviathan said very quietly, "It sounds like a nightmare."

"They do not complain."

Raviathan's voice stayed very low as if they were discussing something taboo. "Why would they? They can't even feel the injustice done to them."

"There are a few who undergo the process voluntarily."

There was a small, "em" of discomfort, and Raviathan put his finger back in his mouth from another needle prick.

"Perhaps you should leave your sewing for another time."

"You're right. I can't feel my fingers anymore."

"So you object to tranquility?"

"I…" He began but stopped with his lips pursed. "If the Maker made them that way, with magic, it isn't right to take it away."

"What about blood mages?"

Raviathan was quiet for moment. "I can understand why the templars would want to do that to mages, and there are mages who can be a danger to others, but the cost is too high. They aren't even people anymore."

"The tranquil I've spoken to would disagree. They do not have emotions, but they have minds. They feel physical pain as you do."

"But what is the point of it? Would you call that a life? It's existence, but that isn't the same thing. They can't feel rage or hate, but they can't feel compassion either. I'm not saying one's feelings should take the place of reason, but that's wrong. Shianni is in pain, but if she were tranquil, she wouldn't even care. Tranquil can be… violated and abused, and just because they aren't emotionally hurt by it doesn't mean it isn't abuse."

Duncan didn't say anything as he thought about Raviathan. The more he got to know the young elf, the more he cared for him. Most his age were still working out their belief system and were often impetuous or impatient. Raviathan was just the opposite. He was curious but considerate, a balance of thoughtful and passionate. With a small squeeze in his chest, he mentally recited his prayer. Maker, please let him live. Duncan was brought out of his brief reverie when Raviathan asked, ""What's your opinion on the subject? It seems you favor mages."

"How did you come to that conclusion?" asked Duncan. As much as Raviathan liked listening to the histories he told, Duncan enjoyed hearing Raviathan's thought process.

"Because you wanted to recruit a mage. You've asked for my opinions on blood mages and the tranquil, but haven't told me you agree with it."

"I haven't said I disagree with it either." The thickening stew bubbled around the edges sending out succulent aromas. Duncan set the bread by the fire to warm.

"Do you?"

There was more challenge in the question than curiosity. Duncan knew the elf had read him correctly and was pleased. "The darkspawn pose a greater threat than anything else. I would recruit anyone I thought fit to be able to fight them, including blood mages. Unless there is absolute reason to think they will become abominations, making them tranquil is a waste. We don't have a mage now, which would have been an invaluable resource."

"How would you get evidence that a mage would become an abomination?"

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that would be difficult."

There was a bitter edge to Raviathan's smile. "It's like convicting someone of a crime they haven't committed. 'But I didn't steal the apple.' 'No, but you looked like you were going to.'"

"A fine point. I sometimes think the Chantry has too much control over the mages. I've seen abominations before, and they are horrendous things, but what we lose in the process is a terrible waste."

"Supper is ready." Raviathan filled Duncan's bowl with the wolf's share of the meal then filled his own bowl.

"Most people are afraid of mages." The meal the lad had made of their dried foodstuffs was remarkable.

Raviathan shrugged.

"You don't seem to be."

Raviathan finished chewing his mouthful in no hurry to answer. "I've friends and cousins taken to the Circle. We'd never hear from them again. One day, without warning, they were just gone. It was almost like they died. Sometimes children died of starvation or disease, but we could see that coming. Prepare for it. The first child I ever delivered, my little cousin Eldwyn, was taken a few years ago. Her birthday was coming up, and I made her a flute, was going to teach her to play. I know magic scares a lot of people, but it's no worse than a sword."

"Magic is a great deal more powerful than a sword."

"A noble is a great deal more powerful than any mage."

Dark whisperings started at the edges of Duncan's thoughts. He had been so engrossed in the discussion he hadn't noticed as the darkspawn had stalked them, probably centering on the taint that ran through Duncan's blood. He froze, casting out his senses to find a small band from the south headed for them. He guessed there were about four. Chiding himself for not being more careful this far south, he said quietly, "Darkspawn. Stay to the shadows on the north. Beware and do not approach."

Raviathan had been on alert the second Duncan's posture changed. The elf's brow knit in mild puzzlement, but he nodded taking Duncan's orders seriously. Raviathan moved slowly and low to the ground so as to not draw the eye. Duncan did the same going south. Though the sky was clear, the moon had not yet appeared. Everything was darkness and deep shadow. The elf's eyes would fare better than his, but his Warden senses and years of learning to fight blind would get him though this.

Sibilant hissing sounded through the taint. There was no doubt the hurlocks were coming for him. Four against one weren't the best odds he had had, especially since the low light worked against him. He cloaked in shadow to hide his tainted blood from the hurlocks, the cool grayness settling over him like a cloak. The hurlocks were far enough away that he could take his time moving through the forest and plan for his attack.

Circling around the band of darkspawn, he picked a spot that would limit their frontal attack. A path between a thicket and hillock would keep them from flanking him. Duncan picked up a few pine cones and tossed them in the path he wanted them to take. The darkspawn, wary when their quarry disappeared from their senses, chuckled at the sound and headed that way. Darkspawn weren't completely unthinking, but weak ones like these weren't great planners. They relied on the older darkspawn for that.

Having taken the bait, they walked single file through the narrow path with their weapons out. Duncan padded behind the last, careful of his step. Even without the taint he would have been able to smell them. They stank of rot and acidic bile. The taint in his blood crawled as he got near. If the dreams weren't enough proof, the drawing song of the Archdemon that hummed faintly in the background of his awareness would have been. The taint was pulling him, was starting to see his enemies as kin. He had only a few months before he would take the Calling or go mad as the taint warred to dominate him.

The darkspawn were uncertain, hissing suspicions. Time to act. Duncan grabbed the closest hurlock from behind, drawing his dagger across the creature's neck. The rot and bile sent grew strong as hot black blood leaked down his hand. It was just blood. He had felt taint fill blood before, but now his own blood reacted, like wasps crawling beneath his skin, stinging in their frustration to get out. He tossed the body forward, catching the next hurlock when the three remaining turned to face him. He kicked the body, knocking the off footed hurlock to the ground then rushed the next standing monster. Branches pulled at his armor, and he almost tripped from the uneven footing in the dark. He used the momentum to his advantage, plunging his sword deep into the standing hurlock's belly. He had to deflect an over head swing with his dagger, but another quick swipe and the hurlock was down.

Heat blossomed from his thigh. The hurlock at his feet had managed to shift the body enough to get a strike. He kicked the creature's face, hearing the jaw crunch and retreated a few steps to draw the last standing hurlock forward where he wouldn't have to contend with the downed one. The hurlock lunged forward with a snarl. Even in the low light Duncan could measure its face from the faint shine in its eyes. Darkspawn like this rarely had anything more than brute force on their side. It was easy to parry the creature's weapon wide then step in close for a strike. A second parry and strike.

The moon peaked above the pines, deepening shadows in the cold light. The white skin of the hurlock gleamed as black feted blood slowly gurgled out. Just behind the creature's shoulder, the grey skinned hurlock rose with pale grey eyes staring forward. Darkspawn had no souls. There was no more feeling in them than a corpse's blind eyes. Black windows into an empty house, but soulless as they were, there was a malevolent intelligence that stared back.

Duncan wasted no time in executing the darkspawn. A final strike to the nearest already sliced hurlock, then low kick to the one behind that popped a knee, and Duncan finished the job with a final thrust of his sword. The blood running down his thigh was cooling quickly in the chill night, and the wound started to sting. He limped quickly back to the camp so he could bandage the wound. At least there was a skilled healer waiting for him.

Two more! Horrified, Duncan felt the presence of two more darkspawn north of the little camp. Genlocks were the next most common darkspawn after hurlocks, little scuttling thieves who often cloaked in shadow. The moon wasn't bright enough to illuminate the forest floor, and he didn't want to chance a twisted ankle or jarred knee. He hoped Raviathan had enough sense and ability to stay hidden.

As if thinking his fear made it real, he realized it was the taint of two shrieks that now blazed in his awareness when they uncloaked. If hurlocks were foot soldiers, shrieks were elite stealth assassins. Cursing inwardly, Duncan tried to hurry. Branches snagged his armor, roots tangling his feet. Rav, stay safe, Duncan prayed. Stay hidden.

He slipped a few times on stones and kicked a rock. Pain shot into his toe. A screech like metal grading on slate ripped through the night, instantly setting Duncan's hair on end. No! That would tear anyone's concentration. They knew their prey, were hunting aggressively. A terrified yell of, "Duncan!" broke the night. Dear Maker no! The boy had no chance against a pair of shrieks. Duncan had lost so many potential recruits. At times it felt like the world had conspired against him. Not this one too. Not him.

The shrieks were moving for the ambush. Their thoughts carried through the taint like scorpions scuttling in Duncan's brain. They were heading back towards the camp, and he could feel the anticipation as one readied for an attack. The crack of bones echoed and an odd, sludgy sound came from the north past their campfire. Duncan's heart fell at the sound. The tiny sense of anticipation from the shriek was gone, scarcely felt to begin with. Raviathan was already lost. The poor boy. Duncan slowed as he stumbled into the lit clearing of their camp as a stab of depression warred with rage. That poor, sweet boy. And to be killed so brutally. He had grown used to losing men over the years either to the darkspawn or the Calling, but the sting of this one was unexpectedly sharp.

To his shock Raviathan stumbled, no, was thrown back, out of the thicker wood and into the clearing. He landed on his back, skidding over the slick pine needles. Blood covered one side of his face and neck, shining in the firelight. A narrow strip of white cheekbone glared from the mask of red. The shriek was there, its black skin melding with the shadows, but its long shark like rows of teeth and small eyes glowed orange in the firelight. It leaped with blinding quickness. The boy screamed, thrusting his hands forward.

The relief at seeing Raviathan alive tightened Duncan's chest, a pain that was all the worse with the knowledge he was too far away to save the elf now. Just a few seconds more and he could have made it. Damn it! He had the illusion of second chance thrown in his face. Now he would have to watch the boy savaged before him. Duncan's face twisted in a snarl as he rushed forward bent on revenge.

The shadows of the forest shrank back in sharp contrast to the blazing fire that erupted. The campground and forest were illuminated as if from a red sunset. A fifteen foot tongue of shimmering flame shot from Raviathan's hands straight into the shriek. It struck the creature full on. There was a sizzle and pop then the shriek started to screech. It clutched at its face, beat at its body, and writhed on the ground still on fire. The stench of burning flesh and boiling blood filled the air.

A mage. The boy was a mage. Duncan tried to wrap his mind around that fact as he walked up to the elf. The shriek had stopped moving. The corpse was a cracked, blackened thing and still on fire. Raviathan lay there staring at it. He was panting heavily as if he had just sprinted for miles, the whites around his eyes visible. Duncan could see no wound on the lad though the blood must be his as it was red. He stepped on the pine needles putting out the little fires before they spread then went to the elf. A mage.

"Rav?" The elf didn't even seem to see him. It wasn't until Duncan touched his shoulder did Raviathan react with a jerk.

Bright, flashing eyes stared up at him in terror. "Are there more?"

"No. They're all dead."

Raviathan's chest started to spasm as he looked back at the burnt husk. Duncan knelt behind him and put a supportive arm around the young elf. Raviathan clutched at him and kicked back so he was pressed tight into Duncan's chest. "It's all right. They're dead. All of them."

The young elf whimpered, turning to bury his head in Duncan's chest as a few hot tears slipped out. Duncan kept up the litany of assurances as he held the elf. Raviathan's aunt. She really was an apostate then. Had the two of them been hiding all those years? But could it have been raw talent that had gone unnoticed? A mage. To Duncan's relief it didn't take Raviathan long to recover once he was over the initial shock. Though still shaky, Raviathan wiped the tear streaks away with a trembling hand and stood. Drying blood covered half his face though there wasn't the hint of a scar, only a smear where his tears mingled with blood. The front of his armor bore a series of long claw marks from the shriek. Duncan got up, wincing at the wound in his thigh.

"You'r-re hurt?"

"My thigh. And I stubbed my foot."

Raviathan waved the fingers on his left hand in an intricate but graceful gesture, and emerald flames danced over Duncan's injuries. The relief from pain was immediate. So the boy was trained. Possibilities started flitting through Duncan's head too quick to form into anything concrete. A trained mage who could fight. Offensive spells and healing magic. And he had found the boy just as a blight was starting. Maybe the Maker did smile on him after all. "What happened to the other shriek?"

Even by the weak firelight Raviathan's visible skin was pale. He pointed to the woods then clutched his upper arms, seeming like a child lost in the wilderness. The look Duncan was getting was cautious and fearful. That was puzzling. Why would Raviathan fear him? Picking up a half burning log, Duncan went into the woods in the direction Raviathan had pointed. Burning was still thick in the air, but Duncan was also getting the strong stench of darkspawn blood. As he ventured forward, the air became oily and thick. About ten yards away the ground squished. He raised the burning log as it slowly dawned on him what he was looking at. Bits of darkspawn were everywhere: shreds of organs, pieces of shattered bone, and an even coating of black blood on everything: tree trunks, pine needles, dirt, everything. It was a stunning display of gore. Damn.

Duncan returned to see Raviathan standing in the same spot, staring at the fire. He looked up when Duncan stepped out of the wood, and Duncan got the distinct impression that the lad was about to bolt. "How did you do that to the shriek?"

Raviathan bit his lips, watching Duncan warily. "Ih-" he stopped to clear his throat. "It's a spell. Makes living things explode."

Maker's blood! He hadn't even known that kind of spell existed. It was incredibly gruesome. With a sinking realization, he was now able to equate the wet sound from before with the bloody scene. Damn. Mysteries that had been bothering Duncan snapped away: Raviathan's extensive knowledge of the Fade, how his leg had not hurt after the sparing match, his skin that bore not the faintest scar from training. Valendrian had assumed Solyn had been involved in the same sorts of intrigue as Adaia, another trained rogue, but this? Maker's breath. "What's making you nervous, Rav?"

The elf swallowed, keeping his eyes focused unblinkingly on Duncan. "You can't tell anyone. I won't go to the Circle. I won't. If you try and make me I'll do something bad if I have to. I won't be put in a cage."

Duncan tried to keep from laughing, but he couldn't help a wide grin. "Why in the Maker's name would I take you to the Circle? I was hoping to recruit a mage, and now I have one. This is most fortuitous."

Fear left the elf replaced by caution. "You won't tell anyone?"

"Well, yes. I will." Seeing the elf's pained reaction Duncan elaborated, "We need a mage. You can't keep these abilities secret. What are you afraid of? Once you're a Grey Warden, the Circle can't touch you."

Raviathan bit his lips again. "What about the templars?"

"Grey Wardens submit to no one," Duncan reassured. "Once you're officially part of the Order, the templars and Chantry have no authority over you. Ever."

Shining blue emerald eyes regarded him from a mask of drying blood, measuring his words. "They can't hunt me?"

Pity filled Duncan. Raviathan had been afraid his whole life, had seen his kin taken away and aunt killed. "Never. Once you're Joined, you're a Grey Warden for life and submit to no one."

"You swear this?"

"Absolutely."

The elf sniffed, still trembling as he regarded the burnt shriek husk. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Slowly he nodded. Duncan studied him. The elf had been beyond rage to rescue his family, had been attacked and kidnapped by a mob, but the fear of the templars and Circle outweighed that. The poor boy really had been given a rough road to walk. Duncan tossed the burning log into the fire and went to the elf, making sure his steps were loud, then put a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder. ""The templars, the Chantry, and the Circle will have no authority over you. I swear it, Rav." Raviathan turned into him then, and they were back to the trust they had before. Stronger than before.

"Solyn was an apostate then?"

"Yes." Raviathan shivered against him. "Trained by the house that owned her."

Knowing they were not about to get sleep any time soon, Duncan decided to pull up camp and continue towards Ostagar. Raviathan washed his face then helped pack up their tent. Journeying at night was worth it just to get away from the corpses. Raviathan acted as their eyes until they reached the Imperial Highway. The Highway was bright in the ghostly pale glow of the moon leaving the surrounding lands a black suggestions in contrast. It was well into the night when they were both exhausted enough to get some sleep.

Instead of leaving the Highway and setting up camp anew, they huddled together on one side of the road under their shared bedrolls. Duncan kept his back to the low wall as they settled in, front to front. Raviathan was completely cocooned in while Duncan had an opening to see out of if need be. The elf rested his head on Duncan's chest with his arms loosely around the man. Thankful that he would have another night without nightmares, Duncan rested his cheek on the elf's head, and Raviathan snuggled in. "What spells do you know, Rav?"

The elf was quiet for a moment. "I really won't be taken to the Circle?"

"No," Duncan said. "I promise. You may visit on Grey Warden duty in the future, but they can't force you to stay."

"And the templars?"

There was such fear in his voice. "No one is allowed to interfere with the Grey Wardens. Not even templars."

After another minute Raviathan asked, "How much do you know of magic?"

"Very little I'm afraid."

At the elf's silence, Duncan tightened his hold to reassure him and felt Raviathan relax into him. "There are four main schools of magic and each has an opposition. There's creation and entropy. I don't know any entropic spells, but from creative I know how to heal. Solyn made sure I knew as much as she did after my mom died. That's why I also know so much about herbalisum and healing in general, not just magic."

"Why did you learn medicine? Isn't magical healing enough?"

"Magical healing is powerful but limited. Healing magic works best for injuries, but there's a lot of things that can go wrong that aren't injuries. Diseases, infections, and poisons are difficult, and it's better to use different types of healing. Just throwing magic at a problem can sometimes make it worse. With some of those people in the village, I did use magic, usually to heal the deeper scars. That green light is residual energy from the Fade, but if I let the energy go slowly enough, or I keep it close to the body, it doesn't show up.

"Healing magic is also useful for finding out what's wrong. It helps me pinpoint what's blocked and why. That's how I knew it was a problem with the way that boy's bone healed. I did have to operate on him to get the pus and infected bone out, but I used healing magic to make sure the bone healed clean and straight and minimize scar tissue. The potion I told them to make will keep the infection from reappearing. He should be fine to walk in a week, but I couldn't let the parents know that. Too suspicious. They might stop making the potion for him if they think he's well, but he needs it."

The act of talking was helping Raviathan calm down. Duncan could feel that in the way the boy continued to loosen. He rubbed Raviathan's back and kissed his hair. The lad had risked himself with every patient he saw. Maker please let this boy live. "I didn't see you make the gestures to heal yourself."

"Don't need to gesture when the healing is internal, only if I need to project the spell. To diagnose someone, I just need to touch them."

"What else do you know?"

"I also know glyph magic."

"What is glyph magic?"

Raviathan shifted against the old warrior into a more comfortable position. The night was bitterly cold. Raviathan felt strange resting on a road, and one made of stone no less. It made Raviathan feel less real in a way, like he was temporary. There was something about roads that demanded movement, that only ghosts stopped like this, frozen as they were from the rest of the world. In an odd way, it was like they were rebelling from the road's insistence, but it continued to pull on him.

"Solyn told me all magic is written in the Maker's hand. It's his will that first gave it shape, and we channel that shape when we use his writing. Whenever I do a complex spell, or a spell that isn't just raw force, I need to shape the energy. When I move my fingers, I'm writing. You can't see it, but I do. It's like lines of light. Glyph magic is the purest form of that, and that's why you can see the glyphs written in the person's skin and under them. I can stop someone so they can't move, help protect a person, or throw back enemies.

"The other two schools are primal and spiritual. Primal was the fire spell. It's raw energy, but the stronger versions need to be focused. Primal can be time consuming because I have to pull and build up that energy. Spiritual is a hard school to define, but it essentially deals with energy of a different type. I guess the best way to think of the two schools is one is like Fade energy and the other is the energy of this plane. That…" Raviathan hesitated as he thought about the shriek, and it was Duncan's calm reassurance that made him continue. "The spell I used first tonight, that was spiritual. I turned the… sh-shhriek's living energy against itself. Fire is the only spell I know from the primal. Most of my spells are spiritual. Spiritual and creative spells are quiet, so that was easiest to learn in a crowded area like the alienage."

That made sense, thought Duncan. He was still trying to get used to the fact he had an apostate curled against him.

"I didn't want to say anything earlier about the Fade," Raviathan said, his breath hitching. "I know why you don't have the nightmares. I'm protecting you."

"Yes." Duncan closed his stinging eyes against the tireless southern wind. "I've known that but how?"

"In the Fade, I can bring you into my dream so that you aren't trapped by the demon's nightmare. It's not something I thought about, just reaction. Like it's natural to hold your breath under water."

"Demon's nightmare?"

"They feed off emotion. When we're weak or under pressure, we're vulnerable to their influence. That's what causes nightmares. They pull us into a section of the Fade, compound the emotion they need, and feed."

Once Raviathan became a Grey Warden and understood what the taint was, they would have to talk again. Would Raviathan still be able to protect him from the nightmares when they both shared the taint? Was this the reason why Grey Wardens couldn't be married? Would a spouse or lover hide Wardens from the nightmares that signaled the Calling until it was too late? "Can non-mages do that? Protect from nightmares?"

"Any elf can, but we're closer to the Fade. That's why families sleep close together during times of trouble. A demon can pull in one soul, but the more souls that are together, the harder it is for them to lure us. I don't know about humans. Duncan, you're the first human I've ever really talked to. If you don't know, how would I?"

"I haven't heard of this before. Is it a property of magic then?"

"Apart from Solyn, I've never met anyone who was trained in magic. I don't know what it's like for other people. Because I'm a mage, I'm better at controlling the Fade. But all elves have a more intense relationship with the Fade." Raviathan voice cracked. "N-Ness and I shared dreams."

"You weren't just dreaming about her?"

"Our souls were together in the Fade," Raviathan said, and Duncan felt the elf tremble. A silvery tear track caught in the moonlight. "There was one we shared often. We were by a lake in a deep forest. I would gather leaves and twigs for her, and she would make them into swans. She could turn the leaves into white feathers and everything. When the she placed a swan in the water, it would come alive. They would rise up, flapping their wings when they took their first breath, then swim about the lake. Duncan, I miss her so much. I've been trying not to think about her, but Maker, I miss her. There are times I think about her, and I don't think I can breathe anymore."

"I'm sorry, Rav." He was sure Raviathan was still crying though there was little indication beyond the elf's trembling. "All I can say is that she's safe because of you. It was a great sacrifice, but you saved her."

Raviathan nodded but didn't speak after that.

The taint was more pervasive, more powerful than any demon. Simply being an elf wouldn't have stopped the taint induced nightmares, not when the taint came from within Duncan's own blood. That the lad's magic was stronger than the taint gave Duncan hope for the coming war against the blight, even if it meant destroying the last bit of peace he had found. Duncan rested his eyes not expecting to fall asleep, but sleep came nonetheless as his head dipped down to rest on the elf.

~o~O~o~

The growing light of pre dawn awakened Duncan who looked about, crusty and roughened from the night's cold wind. If he hadn't had the elf's extra heat, he might have woke frozen to the wall. Aside from his numb feet, sore back and neck, he was relatively toasty. He rubbed Raviathan's back who woke with a little, "mmph?" then stretched. Like a cat, he ended up just as firmly ensconced as before.

"Wake up." Duncan said, his voice cracking. Raviathan squirmed in playful annoyance, pretending to ignore him.

"Mmph," the elf grunted and went back to Duncan's chest as if he would go back to sleep, eliciting a chuckle from the old warrior. He removed a few pine needles that had remained in Raviathan's hair, tousled from the wind and sleep. Large blue emerald eyes smiled at him. Raviathan kissed him, a peck on the lips. Though startled, Duncan's first impression was one of softness, and however strange, the kiss was not entirely unpleasant.

"Rav," Duncan began a warning.

"I'm sorry. I know humans don't do that. It just felt natural. If it had been Valendrian…" Raviathan sighed. "There are so many new rules to learn. Makes me feel like I'm being twisted and bent into an unnatural shape, like the plants nobles have in their gardens."

With regret, Duncan wondered if he had indulged the elf's affections too much. Raviathan wasn't going to have him to lean on much longer. Some of the elven habits that made Raviathan and easy companion were going to make his adjustment to the life of a Grey Warden difficult. But then, Raviathan was already adjusting quickly considering how different the world outside the alienage was. "I couldn't tell last night, but we're probably only an hour away from Ostagar."

There were spots of red on Raviathan's face where he had been leaning on Duncan's chest. He nodded, got to his feet with a wince, then helped pull Duncan up. The bed rolls were stowed away, and the two continued on, shivering in the morning frost.

The movement helped warm stiff muscles though Duncan was sure he was going to have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day. Raviathan coughed to clear his throat then hesitantly asked, "Duncan? Do you think I'm a coward?"

"What?" he asked looking over at the elf. "No. Cowards don't threaten armed men or storm heavily guarded estates. Why would you ask that?"

"It just seems that I've done a lot of crying lately." Raviathan added quietly, "and the shrieks."

"Ah, my lad, don't fret over that," Duncan said resting an arm over Raviathan's shoulders. "It's been a tough time for you. Lots of changes and new experiences. Once you've found your feet again, I'm sure you'll feel like your old self. As for the shrieks, those are some of the most terrifying of the four darkspawn types. Their ugly, fast, and vicious. That you killed two, on your own no less, is quite an accomplishment for anyone let alone as your first darkspawn kills. You should be proud of yourself, Rav. The Maker smiled on this land when you were born."

A light blush warmed Raviathan's cheeks. "Thanks, Duncan."

The old warrior kept his arm around the elf's shoulders. It was for warmth as much as anything he told himself.