A/N: 1/20/2010 - minor update to correct story consistency issue

A/N: (3/20/2010) Yet more spelling and grammar changes

A/N: (3/29/2010) Added punctuation marks and a small section rewritten to make more sence. (3/30/2010) One word change and for some reason I lost some of the centering and italics formating so I had to redo those. :/

Part 2: The Griffon Leads the Mockingbird

Duncan walked along at a decent pace and chanced a glance behind him. The elf walked five or six paces behind him, her eyes fixed on where she was walking.

When he first ran into her in the Alienage, there was no mistaking who's daughter she happened to be. She had the same dark black hair, the same nose, and same grey-ish blue eyes. What was more telling was the way she handled herself. Kallian spoke in convincing and self assured tones without panic and without arrogance. Even in the face of what would have definitely been a death sentence, the elf woman calmly stepped forward and told the city guards that she was the one that did it and no one else. That was more than enough to convince Duncan that he was right in seeking her out. He wasn't fully certain if she had the proper grit to be a recruit until that very moment.

He felt no guilt this time. Regardless if things for her worked out or not, he at least had given her a fighting chance. Better that then the immediate execution the Arl's men would have given her.

They were miles from Denerim now, but Kallian remained silent. She carried a look that Duncan was not unfamiliar with. He'd give her that time to think and ponder. Her mind was no doubt still back with family, friends, home, and all that occurred. The emotions and thoughts she would have to straighten out for herself. If she didn't then that past could threaten to crush her in the face of what was to come.

Duncan looked forward again to the road, and for a long moment continued walking in silence. Then he heard her pace quicken and she caught up to him to walk by his side. She matched his pace and glanced at him.

"So...," she started. "Where we off ta?"

He quirked an eyebrow. Aside from suddenly sounding like a Denerim street rat, she spoke as if they were just going away for a short jaunt. She used an almost jovial tone. He let it slide for now. All dealt with deeper, darker emotions in their own way. It wasn't as if he didn't know someone else who was also prone to covering things up with lightness and humor.

"We're heading North to Highever," he explained. "Had time not been pressing, I would have taken you South to Ostagar to wait with the other recruits. As it is, I need to see if there are other potential Wardens within Teyrn Cousland's men first."

"Never been ta Highevah," Kallian mused, then shrugged with a light grin. "Never been outside of Denerim, really, so it all be new ta me. Got ya eye on anyone in particular? I mean, I know ya looked at me because of mother."

"As a matter of fact I do," he said. "Two, actually. There is a Ser Gilmore who has good potential to be a Warden. There is also Teyrn Cousland's younger son, but I'm not certain how the Teyrn himself will feel about him being recruited."

"If he's like most human nobles he'd rather keep his son fat, happy, and spoiled," she said. Her words were still spoken jovially, but there was an undercurrent of venom under the joking tone.

Duncan shot another glance at her. The venom shouldn't have been so surprising, he supposed, but somehow it was. Perhaps it was her previous cool and collected mannerisms in the direct face of danger that made him think her strong enough to not form such prejudgemental thoughts.

"Not all nobles are like Arl Urien's son, Kallian," he replied. "Just as not all elves are as feeble as many humans would believe."

A frown crested her lips and her eyebrows furrowed at the statement. She was definitely far form over her feelings.

Duncan continued, "And once someone becomes a Warden, what they were before doesn't matter anymore. Be they human, elf, dwarf, noble or castless, a Grey Warden is a Grey Warden. We have one purpose and one duty. Alliances do not come based on politics, but strictly on the duty of fighting the darkspawn. You would do well to remember this."

Kallian was silent once more, the frown still there, and she ran her hand through her hair as if irritated. Again, she seemed to rebound rather quickly and instead of a full frown her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"What's a 'Castless'?"

"Ah, well, being that you've never been out of Denerim, and thus never to Orzammar, I'm not surprised that you're unfamiliar with the Dwarven Caste society."

Duncan explained it to her. With every new bit of information, Kallian had a new question. She knew there was a whole world outside of Denerim and the Alienage. Despite the way she ended up leaving hearth and home, there was a certain excitement about traveling and seeing new places. The chance that she possibly could go to Orzammar or find the Dalish elves made her even more curious about it all.

Duncan was a wellspring of information. She had to wonder if there wasn't a corner of Ferelden that Duncan hadn't been to. She could never get him to give a solid opinion, though. He always seemed to rely on the statement, "You'll see for yourself."

It was irritating, but only mildly so. When she couldn't pull more out of Duncan, that irritation would set in and her subconscious habit of running her hand through her hair would kick in. Which, in turn, would mentally jar her when she felt less hair atop her head than there should have been. It only served to remind her just why it was cropped short and that, all things compared, her situation could be far worse.

Kallian's hair used to reach down to the middle of her shoulder blades. When Duncan conscripted her, she wasn't granted much time to get her affairs in order. She was only given enough time to wash up, gather her things, and say her goodbyes. When she tried to get the dried and caked blood out of her hair, she realized it was going to take too long. So, she had Valora cut her hair.

A good part of her was saddened by it. Her mother, who always wore her hair short, encouraged Kallian to grow hers long. Jokingly, her mother would say that she wanted to live vicariously through her daughter's hair since her own was always so difficult to manage. There were days where her mother would spend hours combing and putting Kallian's hair in different styles. She would use ribbons and clips of all sorts. Sometimes beads, sometimes wooden bands with small carvings upon them.

After her mother's death she continued to wear her hair in all sorts of ways. She had to leave behind many of the clips and baubles her mother collected over the years, but Kallian held on to one ribbon that was her mother's favorite to use. It was in her pack now and of little use to her, but she kept it as a memento. She was certain, though, that her mother would forgive her for making the ribbon currently useless.

The shorter hair would be easier to wash, easier to dry, and easier to manage while on the road. Kallian could imagine her mother saying that a bandit that would waylay your camp in the middle of the night wasn't going to wait for a lass to get her hair up in order to fight him better. A ponytail could be grabbed and a braided loop could get hooked on a branch. Long hair was almost as good as putting a noose around one's neck. So while part of Kallian felt saddened, the other part nodded at the practical and sensible move.

Kallian suddenly realized that Duncan was looking at her expectantly. She had stopped her cascade of questions to lose herself in thought and it apparently caught his attention. She shook her head of the collected cobwebs and thought of another question to ask. They had quite a few days yet to reach Highever and she was certain she could fill most of that time with all the questions she ever wanted to ask.

An impish part of her wondered how long it would be until Duncan would give his first exasperated sigh.