DISCLAIMER: Nope, I don't own any of these characters or the world this one is set in (it's all Bioware and EA). No commercial interest, just a little fantasy.

For a friend.

You know who you are...and please never forget that!

It's your story

He could see her from afar, sitting alone by the nearby stream. Her face turned the other way, simply staring into the distance, there was no hint of whether she had been crying or still was.

Maybe not today.

It was a hope, but only a small one.

Nights before he and Leliana had heard the muffled, suppressed crying from the tent and had wondered. He had claimed that it could be something else, but of course the Chantry girl had corrected him. It was hard to believe though. Laghanda Amell (What a name! But then again: her family was from somewhere in the Free Marches, right?), the Grey Warden, the mage who had survived Ostagar and managed to keep their little group together, loosing it? It had seemed impossible. The following nights had shown that it wasn't. Something was amiss.

The sudden sound of her voice brought him back to reality.

„You can come out there, Alistair", her voice was soft, but steady with only the faintest hint of a tremble. "I heard you back there."

Of course you did.

He sighed as he stepped out of the bushes. No turning back now. It was a stupid thing that this should make him feel nervous, especially because it had been his idea to come here and try to talk. In a way it served him right for not considering how bad he was talking.

What am I trying to do here?

He moved a little closer, but kept a distance to her – a comfortable one for both of them. If she had indeed cried, there was no need to get so close to see the tears; spare her the trouble of hiding them at the very least.

It was also befitting in yet another, less physical way because there would always be a distance between the two of them. He had known that from the start. As much as he had to carry his own past as a burden, there were worlds between him and what Laghanda had been through. He could only try to imagine how difficult life had been for the young mage – and he'd probably still fail.

"You shouldn't sneak up on a girl like this, Alistair. Someone might mistake you for a darkspawn."

"Oh yeah, come to think of it, I do get that pretty often," he tried in an ironic tone.

This was a stupid idea.

At least he could see a faint smile on her face as she turned her head. Something to start with?

"Maybe you shouldn't do it in the middle of the night then."

"You would be surprised how little difference the daylight makes. Maybe I just have the posture of a Hurlock. Or the smell. Oh Maker, please don't let it be the smell…"

Was that a suppressed giggle? He could only hope.

But then there was silence. An awkward silence. What was he trying to do here again? Giving comfort?

That should work very smoothly when you're at a loss of words after two sentences, you fool.

"So…no sleep tonight, huh?" he managed.

Maker, I'm bad at this!

The Warden's eyes wandered off into the distance.

"No," she sighed.

"Again…"

"Yes, again."

"I…understand," he tried. "The dog is not exactly quiet. Well, and however much the Qun speaks of discipline, it certainly does not forbid snoring."

Oh, blessed nights when Sten is on watch…

Leaghanda laughed mirthlessly. "No, it obviously doesn't. But that's not it."

"So…are you alright?"

Blasted, I really should have sent Leliana. She's much better at this…

As the mage turned her face to him, he could see the weariness in the moonlight; her voice was still steady and calm but her words were not.

"No, Alistair, I am not. Do you know this feeling when it all gets too much? When it overwhelms you, threatens to wash you away?"

At a loss of words (yet again) he tried to respond with humor: "Overwhelmed? Me? Impossible!" he said sarcastically. "You know me, Warden. I'm a winner…"

It made her chuckle for a moment, but the infinite sadness returned only a fracture of a second later. "It's just…it is too much, my friend. It comes all at once! I am doing my best, but still I feel like failing. I do what I can, but look where we are: Constantly on the road, with work to be done everywhere. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing! It doesn't seem as if I move forward at all."

"That's not right and you know that! We're on the run for what? A month? And already you successfully ended a decade-long conflict in the Brecilian Forest, lifted an ancient curse and managed to raise an army of the Dalish. In my book you have a lot to show for!"

"And yet it means nothing. Loghain still sits on the throne, the darkspawn are spreading and we haven't even been to Redcliff or Orzammar yet, let alone to Denerim. And now we're heading towards the Tower – the very place I used to study, no: to live. My home. The people there were like my family and I left them. No idea what they will expect from me once I return. And then there's all of you: Every one of my companions seem to have their own problems, too, and expect to help." Her voice was no longer stable, but cracking. "I'm trying, Alistair. I really do. But I feel I'm slipping. I feel like I'm going to fail you all."

"You are not going to fail anyone. Look, the very reason everybody asks for you help is not because we like to put our weight on your shoulders – it's because we know that can help. It's because we trust in you, Leaghanda – and because we know that you care. And you are not alone, my friend. We are all here to help you." He tried to resist for a moment, but decided that he could not and added: "Well, all but Morrigan. That one's just a bitch."

A laugh. And a whole-hearted one at that. Probably the best success he could have hoped for. "Yeah, you keep reminding me of that."

"It's a thing not be forgotten," he grinned.

"But why me, Alistair?" her eyes fixed him, searching for the answer. "Why does it all have to be me? You are a Grey Warden, too. The senior one of us, in case you forgot."

"That's just numbers. Even if I had been a Warden ten years longer than you, this is your story. We all know that. You've come a long and hard way, but you succeeded at every step of it. You pulled through and you always will. That is why it's got to be you." He sighed. "Me, on the other hand, I'm just here for the whining and the occasional witty one-liner. Well, and to ensure that there's always at least one shield between you and the next darkspawn. But you are the one to win this."

"How can you be so sure?"

Alistair briefly considered if he felt up to a heart-warming speech, motivating words, carefully crafted to build up his friend. Then he remembered how bad he was at those…and decided to go with the simple truth instead: "Because you, my friend, are brilliant. You say that you'll do all you can and give your best – and we all know that you will. More than that, we all know that it will be enough. Maybe you'll not win all the battles at once, maybe there will be setbacks. But in the end, you will succeed, no matter what."

Maker, that was better than expected.

"Thank you", she said silently. "Thank you, Alistair." There was a smile on her face. A small one at least. Or maybe he just imagined. He wondered if this would help her in the long run. They are just words, after maybe, just maybe, she would remember them in times of need.

Better go now, before I'll mess this up.

"You are welcome, my friend," he said and turned to go.

"Alistair," she said after he had walked a few steps. "You are a good man."

"Hm, not sure about that. 'Good', maybe. At least I try to be. About the 'man'-part, though – some might object." Still, he turned his head around one last time: "But you, Laghanda Amell, you are magical. Never forget that."

[Note: Just a short story out of bigger context; if anyone should have stumbled here via an alert and is actually waiting for news on "Speak the Words": DO NOT WORRY! It is on it's way and WILL be released (completely!) before the Inquisition hits us all. That I promise (and nothing beyond that)!]