This was written for the mid year "Secret Santa" fic exchange at the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age forum. I wrote this for zevgirl, who loves her some Zevran. I'm glad you like it, zevgirl; I snickered like a 12 year old when I wrote this. Gotta love the random spell generators on the web!

It was at moments like these that Lauryn Amell nearly forgot about the crushing burden of the Blight. As was often her custom when she and her companions had made camp for the night, she had taken a book out of her pack and found a solitary place to read for a bit before either turning in for the night or taking her turn at watch. This night found her propped up against the trunk of a great red oak, its branches spread out overhead in a broad canopy. A tributary of the Drakon River was a stone's throw away from where Lauryn sat, the water still as the setting sun lit the surface on fire with orange brilliance. A large tome was propped up against her legs, the gentle light of a wisp illuminating the pages as the daylight faded. Lauryn wiggled against the rough bark of a tree for a moment, chasing away a small itch that had settled into her back. She had exchanged her mage robes for a soft leather tunic and trousers and released her brown hair from the braid she normally kept it in as they traveled.

Turning the slightly yellowed page of the book, Lauryn began to giggle at what she read. The wisp, its rudimentary intelligence responding, flickered briefly and bobbed enthusiastically at her reaction.

Had Lauryn not been absorbed in her book, she would have heard the slight splashing sounds coming from the river nearby. As was his custom, Zevran often found relaxation in the simplicity of a bath. After years of planning and executing missions for the Crows, it was liberating to let the water wash over him—be it in a tub or floating in a body of water—his mind free of the manipulations and calculations drilled into him by sometimes brutal training. He floated on the surface now, his eyes closed as he listened to the solitude of the evening around him.

Though his mind was calm, his senses still remained sharp. At the sound of Lauryn's snicker he brought his feet from the surface of the water to the sandy bottom below, his movements as silent as if he were on a mission. Second nature, he supposed.

The still, cool water parted around him as he made his way toward the shore, the ripples fading away from him. He had picked a fallen tree as a landmark to their camp in case he had floated too far down the river. Silently and low in the water, Zevran moved toward the tree, picking out his clothing and gear in the rapidly dimming light as he closed the distance toward shore. Not far from the fallen tree, he could see the bobbing wisp that Lauryn had conjured. To the unknowing eye, it moved like one of the lightning bugs of late spring. Zevran, however, had seen her conjured wisps often enough to have observed their behavior. Most of the wisps floated gently in the air; this one moved excitedly. Zevran grinned; whatever she was reading was entertaining her greatly. He had a very good idea as to what it was.

The day before, the party of Grey Wardens and companions had made a quick run into Denerim for supplies. It had been a dangerous proposition, as the Regent was still aggressively looking to apprehend Lauryn and Alistair as traitors to Ferelden. However, their almost desperate need of healing reagents and lyrium potions had driven them into the city despite the risk of discovery. Leliana had suggested that only a handful of them should enter Denerim dressed as common folk, and that they should conduct their business as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. Luck had been with them that day as low clouds and constant rain allowed the companions to dress in long cloaks with hoods, easily hiding their identities.

It had been decided that Lauryn, Zevran, Oghren, and Leliana would make their way into the city for the needed supplies. Alistair had bristled at Lauryn's suggestion that the Wardens not be in the city together, but had understood her reasoning. If for some reason Teyrn Loghain's agents had found her, Alistair could still continue the mission Duncan had charged them with. As for the other companions, Sten and Shale were less than inconspicuous; Morrigan had flat out refused to go; Wynne, it was decided, should remain with the companions on the outside in case the worst did happen… at least they would have a healer with them. Lauren had wanted her adopted mabari, Rogue, to stay behind but, in true mabari fashion, Rogue had stubbornly refused to let her out of his sight when he sensed danger. A mabari in Denerim wasn't that unusual, so he had been allowed to tag along.

When the companions had reached the city, Leliana and Oghren had gone to one end of the market to procure the healing poultices and reagents while Lauryn, Zevran, and Rogue had made their way to The Wonders of Thedas for the lyrium and—at Zevran's suggestion—any magical balms they might have in stock.

As the Tranquil proprietor had prepared their order, Lauryn, Zevran, and Rogue had wandered through the bookshelves on the loft above, perusing the tomes. As Lauryn had rounded the corner of a far bookshelf in a dark corner of the loft, a tome with faded script had caught her eye. She had plucked the book from its resting place, turning it over in her hands to see the ornate script written on the cover:

Grimoire of Dubious Spellcasting

"'Dubious Spellcasting?'' Curious, Lauryn had opened the book to a random page but, before she could read more than a sentence, a Tranquil employee had arrived at her side and had calmly plucked the book from her hand.

"I do apologize, madam, but that book was clearly put on the shelf by mistake."

From across the room, Zevran had watched as Lauryn's brows had dipped in confusion and disappointment. "I'd like to buy the book anyway; it looks like a nice change of pace from all these cerebral tomes of magical theory."

The Tranquil had merely turned away, apologizing again for having had such a frivolous book in stock. Clearly disappointed, Lauryn had motioned for the others to join her as she paid for their purchases. She had looked longingly at the grimoire for a moment as the Tranquil had set it on a shelf near the main counter. Shrugging her shoulders in defeat, Lauryn had picked up her satchel of potions and supplies and headed for the door.

The look of surprise on Lauryn's face when Zevran had presented her the book this morning had been priceless. Of course, the feel of her lips on his and her tongue brushing against his teeth had been rather nice as well. Or, ridiculously awesome, he thought to himself with a smug grin.

Zevran finally neared the shore of the lake, easing himself out of the chilly water with the lithe grace of a dancer. Twisting slightly to the side, he wrung the excess water from his hair, watching as the drops fell onto the sand near his feet. When he was satisfied, he quietly moved toward his waiting clothes, pulling the leather trousers up along the damp skin of his legs. He loosely tied the leather strings at the crotch; with luck, they wouldn't be tied for long. A feral grin crossed his face as he peered through the brush between him and Lauryn, who was still snickering at the book in her lap.

Lauryn wiped a tear from her eye, scoffing at the ludicrous entries in the grimoire. Were these really spells that mages had conjured—by mistake or otherwise—over the years? Judging by how closely the words were to the spells she already knew, her feeling was that these spells were ones that had been invoked by accident. After all, ancient Arcanum wasn't the easiest language to learn; no wonder the senior enchanters were relentless in making sure the apprentices spoke Arcanum properly. It was amazing that Kinloch Hold still stood, given the spells she was reading about in the book.

"Are you enjoying your new book, mia cara"

Lauryn jumped at the sound of Zevran's low, silky voice in her ear. She was so wrapped up in her reading that she hadn't heard him approach. "You know, you need to have a bell tied around your neck, like the cats in the noble houses supposedly have."

"Oh, but it is much more fun to see your reaction when I surprise you. I am glad that you are enjoying your book." Zevran moved from her side to sit next to her, his thigh brushing up against hers.

Lauryn turned her head and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Nothing says 'love' like a five finger discount."

Zevran leaned over to get a closer look at the book; he had been curious about what was inside, but since it was written in the language of the mages, he hadn't understood much of it. His knowledge of ancient Arcanum was sorely lacking; the Crows put little value in such a language.

"So, my lovely Warden, just what is in this book that has you giggling like a little girl? This…" He tilted the book so that he could read the spine. "…Grimoire of Dubious Spellcasting."

With a snigger, Lauryn moved the book slightly so that it sat partially on her lap and partly on his. The wisp, sensing Lauryn's wish, moved closer so that Zevran could also read by the light it gave off. Lauryn pointed to large, ornate print at the top of one page. "These are spells that were likely discovered by accident. They're pretty dubious all right; it's no wonder the Tranquil didn't want to sell this."

"Oh? You must indulge me then; sadly, I am afraid I know very little Arcanum."

Lauryn pointed to the name of the spell shown on the page. "You know that Arcanum has been spoken for many, many years; as such, the language has evolved over time. Some words take different meanings, are spoken differently, or disappear entirely. Most spells that mages cast are in an ancient dialect; it's very important to get every single syllable right. That's why we practice so much as apprentices. We memorize the language and the gestures so that when we have to cast them in a given situation, the words come automatically, like second nature."

"Ah. So, where does the 'dubious' come from?"

"If a word is spoken wrong—the wrong syllable used for example—it can change the entire spell. Most of the time the spell simply won't work." Lauryn raised a brow at Zevran, a smirk pulling on one corner of her mouth. "Other times, the spell has… unforeseen… consequences."

Zevran nodded in understanding. "And this tome has captured those unforeseen consequences."

"Exactly," Lauryn said, tapping Zevran's temple. She gave him a playful smirk. "I'm actually surprised a book like this was published; it must have been an apostate that put this together. If the apprentices in Kinloch Hold got their hands on this, it would be bedlam." Turning back toward the tome, she flipped the pages back to the table of contents, reading some of the spell names to Zevran. Glyph of Cramps; apparently, the spell was a Glyph of Paralysis gone wrong. Summon Spell Wasp; according to the notes in the book, the spell conjured an angry swarm of wasps rather than a gentle wisp. Lauryn continued reading off spell names until Zevran stopped her with an upheld hand.

"Wait… what was that last spell?"

"Flatus Field," Lauryn said, flipping to the page in the book containing the dubious spell. "It says this was the result of a Force Field telekinesis spell gone wrong." She sniggered slightly. "I saw this spell used once at Kinloch Hold by a group of teenage boys when they discovered it by accident. One of them cast the spell on his friend after a dinner of broccoli casserole."

An evil grin crossed Zevran's tattooed face. "Surely we must try this spell."

Lauryn felt her nose scrunch up in distaste. "Eeww…. No!"

"Not on us, mia cara. While I enjoy a good trick, I do not intend to make us the victims of such an overtly childish prank." Zevran tilted his head toward the camp and where their companions had gathered around the campfire. "I was referring to our odoriferous friend sitting at the fire."

Another, naughtier smirk crossed Lauryn's face. "I do like the way you think."

Not long after, Lauryn and Zevran found themselves under a low, thick bush at the edge of the clearing. Their companions were just finishing dinner—a stew of cabbage, onions, and generally whatever game was harvested near camp. Since it was Morrigan's night to cook, there would also be a generous amount of local herbs added; she had a sharp eye for finding edible plants in their travels, thanks to being raised in the Wilds. Lauryn hoped that there would be enough left over for her and Zevran.

The unsuspecting victim sat with his back against a log that had been dragged into the campsite to serve as a makeshift bench. An empty wooden bowl sat at Oghren's left; a flask at his right. Even from their vantage point, Lauryn could see small bits of bread and gravy caught in his beard. Judging by the distance between him and the rest of their companions, dinner was already having an effect on him.

Lauryn turned to Zevran, her brows raised and a smirk crossing her face. "Are you ready?"

Her devilish elf gave her a wink. "Always."

With a nod, Lauryn turned her attention toward the camp. She raised one hand, making the appropriate gestures as she whispered the words to the spell. Moments later a slightly shimmering orb appeared around Oghren. "Now, we wait," Lauryn said, settling her chin on her hand.

They didn't have to wait long. Within a few minutes, Zevran quietly tapped Lauryn on her shoulder, jutting his chin toward camp and where Oghren sat. He was shifting his body slightly, a small grimace crossing his face. Soon, Oghren was waving a hand in front of his nose, which caused Lauryn and Zevran to begin snickering quietly.

The other companions began to take notice of Oghren's agitation, looks of confusion crossing their faces. Leliana, always concerned for the others in their company, asked him if he was all right.

"Sodding no, Red, I'm not all right! What sodding stinks around here? Was the stew bad?"

Alistair exchanged a confused glance with Leliana. "I don't smell anything except what's in Morrigan's stew, which was really good, by the way. Who knew such a nasty shrew could be such a good cook? I'm ready for thirds." Alistair reached forward, spooning another large helping of stew into his bowl.

Leliana turned back toward Oghren, a look of concern crossing her face. "I'm sorry, but no. None of us smell anything unusual. Perhaps you are feeling out of sorts?"

"Perhaps it needs a bath," Shale said from where she stood near the edge of camp. "Thankfully, I am not burdened by whatever smell is bothering it."

"Ancestors' tits, it's getting worse!" Oghren stood, moving away from where he sat and waving his arms in an effort to disperse the source of his irritation. Out of the corner of her eye, Leliana caught Alistair snickering as he continued to spoon mouthfuls of stew.

Morrigan scoffed loudly from her small camp. "'Tis an enchantment causing his distress. You should all be grateful as it's apparently sparing you the agony of his flatulence."

Oghren whirled about and faced Morrigan, pointing a meaty finger at her. "Get rid of it!"

"'Tis not my enchantment, fool. I wouldn't waste my talents on one such as you unless you were near death; even then, I would need to carefully consider it."

Lauryn was helpless to hold back the snicker that had been building within her for several moments. It escaped before she could clasp both of her hands over her mouth. She looked at Zevran with wide-eyed amusement, seeing the same expression in his eyes.

Oghren's head turned toward the bush where Lauryn and Zevran had hidden, his eyes first widening in surprise, then narrowing in anger. He began to stomp toward the bush angrily. "You sodding nughumpers!"

Taking her hand, Zevran pulled Lauryn out of the bush and onto her feet. "Mia cara, I think it best that we put some distance between ourselves and our smelly friend for a while."

Oghren began to sprint toward them, bellowing in anger as he closed the distance. Zevran pulled Lauryn toward the safety of the nearby river. They would get wet, but it would be worth it.

"You sorry sodding ingrates!"

Zevran pulled Lauryn toward the water, moving as quickly as his lean legs could take him. Oghren mightbe a dwarf, but he could move swiftly if he called upon his berserker talents. Judging by the dwarf's bellowing anger that possibility was not out of the question.

"Did Oghren use a word other than 'nughumpers'?" Lauryn said, her voice nearly breathless as they sprinted closer to the water. Just a few more seconds and they would be there.

"Perhaps he is more learned than we thought."

"Or maybe he heard it from Branka on a regular basis."

Throwing a look over her shoulder, Lauryn squealed when she saw that Oghren had closed the distance between them, likely tapping into his rage to do so. She shouted several words in Arcanum as they reached the water, waving her wrist at Oghren as the water splashed up around her and Zevran. She saw the globe pulse brightly once, and then dissipate. She dove into the water behind Zevran, the water closing over her head and muffling the angry voice of the dwarf. When her lungs began to cry out for air, Lauryn surfaced, turning back toward the shore to see Oghren pointing at her accusingly.

"Payback's a bitch, mage. You have to come back to camp sometime!"

Lauryn laughed as she floated on the water's surface. She flipped so that she floated on her back, gently swimming toward the far shore of the river. "I'll take my chances!"

Oghren turned away from the water, moving back toward camp. Lauryn heard Zevran's chuckle from her side as they neared the far shore of the river. Lauryn pulled her legs down from the surface of the water, seeking the bottom beneath her. Her extended toes just brushed the sandy bottom. Only a few more feet and they would be able to walk through the water toward shore.

"I think, perhaps, we should entertain ourselves away from camp for the time being," Zevran said, taking her hand as they waded toward shore.

"Mmm… what did you have in mind?"

Zevran collapsed onto the wet sand of the beach, pulling Lauryn down to lay on top of him. She giggled, running a fingertip down the bridge of his nose, then down the marks tattooed onto the side of his face. He flipped them over so that he lay on top of her. Sand adhered to their wet clothing and hair but neither seemed to mind. He brushed a strand of hair off Lauryn's face, bringing his lips to the shell of her ear and nibbling on the lobe. She sharply inhaled and shuddered beneath him, her arms tightening around him and hips pushing upward.

"I'm sure we can think of something, mia cara."