Ordhan quickly sifted through what he knew of the dwarves as she spoke, trying to fit her words into place with what they would mean. He had read of the Diamond District in a book about Orzammar. It was a place for trade, where the only those in castes were welcome. If she didn't have the chance to see the imports there, that meant she was likely one of the casteless, as well.
The books were very quiet about the lives the casteless read. It did not surprise him. If there were books on Denerim (which he would certainly not bother reading), they wouldn't wax eloquent about the Alienage. What they did say was harsh and blunt: the casteless were the spawn of criminals, judged as such from the moment of birth. But if there was one who didn't put stock in categorizing someone from birth, it was Ordhan.
This meant, though, that she was no stranger to hardship. The Warden-Commander had singled her out as a recruit. Even if she smiled and giggled and seemed as delicate as a sheltered noble's daughter, there was mettle beneath it all: especially if she could be such after a hard upbringing.
Ordhan laughed quietly at her offer. "I don't know if you should say that--I can ask a lot of questions." The smile was gone again in an instant when she mentioned Rhocanth, and he cast a hesitant glance downwards. "He's the blonde one, yes? I'm sorry to hear that. It's difficult to have to leave your home." There was muted sympathy in his voice. He wanted to ask if she missed home, but it was too prying, too soon. If she was homesick as well, perhaps she would want the distraction the moment could give her.
He smiled sheepishly at her question. "Very much," he replied. It was an understatement. "I have read about Orzammar, some. I'm not much for books, but they are useful for learning things when there is no one to ask. I am from Denerim, myself, but I grew up in the Bannorn."