Lace looked up from her bowl when someone sat next to her on the log. Professor Kenric smiled and bowed his head.
"Lady Harding," he said. Lace chuckled and shook her head.
" Scout Harding, Professor" she corrected, idly stirring her stew with her spoon.
"Ah, yes, I apologize. I'm afraid it's force of habit. I will endeavour to break myself of it."
"Oh, I don't mind. But remember that it's Lord Winters, if you ever meet him. Not Lady."
"Ah, s- er, he is the scout who very kindly rescued my knapsack from the river, yes?"
Boy, that had been a mistake, thinking the Professor could carry his own provisions. Scout Winters had volunteered to dive into the deep waters, despite the fish that looked, in Lace's opinion, ready to murder. Scout Winters was also a Dalish-born elf who, despite being raised in the city, had some of the most extensive tattoos Lace had ever seen. People tended to comment on that first. But not the Professor. That was a nice change.
Lace nodded and took a bite of her dinner. "So," she joked once she'd swallowed enough to speak, "Are you regretting your decision to do fieldwork yet?"
"Oh, absolutely not! The whole experience has been wonderful, and I look forward to working more extensively with you- er, the, ah, whole scouting team. It truly is a fascinating collection of people."
Lace looked around the fire at the hodge-podge of Humans, Dwarves, Elves and even a couple Qunari. None of them had more than a rudimentary education, having either grown up in the countryside or in the poorer parts of cities. If she gave them one of the fancy outfits from the Winter Palace, they'd probably be able to name two things on it. Hardly the sort of person a nobleman like the Professor would be enthusiastic to spend the next few months with.
"Er- if you don't mind me asking, La- uh, Scout Harding, how did you come by your impressive set of skills?"
Lace turned back to look at him. He was watching her intently, his interest seemingly genuine.
He even laughed at all her silly jokes.
The first time he heard it, he had barely been in the Frostbacks a week. The cheery, bold way in which the performer hummed, however, had caught his attention enough to inspire him to rise from his seat and peer out the window of his new office. But the range of vision was too narrow, leaving him only a memory of the enchanting melody.
The second time he heard it, he had been in the Basin almost three weeks. It had been a sufficiently long enough period of time to necessitate Lady Harding rescuing him four times. His sense of survival was improving, however. Enough so that her sudden and often dramatic appearances in his life were diminished. Now their meetings consisted more commonly of her delivering some interesting new find to his cottage, or updating him on the progress of various scouts seeking items or places for the research team. Bram Kenric found himself more verbose around her; with ever-increasing frequency he would talk off onto some tangent, and Lady- Scout Harding would just smile at him. She was truly too kind, allowing him to blabber on. Occasionally she would even continue to the discussion. He quite enjoyed those moments.
Thus upon hearing the humming again, Bram did not hesitate to cast aside his work and step out into the cool breeze.
Lady Harding was passing below, on the worn path. Some manner of deceased animal was slung over her shoulder. She was humming, loudly, unapologetically. When she turned to momentarily speak to one of her subordinates, Bram was blessed with Scout Harding's genuinely happy smile, albeit not directed at himself. He decided then and there that he would henceforth take every opportunity to hear and see her so at peace.
The third time he heard it, the Scout Harding was walking away from a meeting with the Inquisitor. Bram watched Scout Harding through the window of his cabin, as he did with a frequency he would not admit. When the Inquisitor came to visit him, after the requisite discussion of progress, Bram finally worked up the courage.
"So," the Inquisitor said at the end of Bram's update, "Is there anything you need?"
"Er- yes, but it is… personal in nature, your Worship." Already the courage was ebbing.
"Oh? What is it?" The Inquisitor was truly too kind. Anyone else in as high a position as her would surely not have the time of interest to attend to private matters of a lowly researcher.
"Ah, well, you see, Lady Harding was humming a song after her meeting with you, and I wonder if perhaps you know its name?"
Though the Inquisitor would have been quite within her rights to be annoyed by such a puerile question, she only smiled. "I hear that's her favorite song, actually. Ballad of Nuggins , I'm told. I'm sure I can find the words for you, if you'd be interested."
Bram brightened up at that. Scout Harding would be impressed if he could sing along with- or perhaps not, given his lacking in vocal performance. His upbringing had stringently discouraged singing anywhere outside a Chantry. Occasionally he would hum whilst he excavated, but now that he was a Professor he was supposed to be too serious for that. In any case, he had never been good at converting written lyrics into a musical piece. He hadn't the ear for it.
The Inquisitor seemed to sense his hesitation; she amended, "Perhaps it might be better to hear it sung. I believe Scout Balesly knows the song well, and has enough sensitivity to keep the matter private. When Scout Harding next leaves the camp, I suggest you find yourself in need of a scout for a brief excursion into the woods. I shall speak to his superior and make sure he will be in the escort."
Which is why, the fourth time he heard it, Bram Kenric dared to join in. It had taken hours of practicing, first with Balesly and then with a very exasperated Colette. But now he could hum it perfectly, and generally get the words right. So when he heard her humming as she walked ahead of him, guiding him to some new ruin Colette had found, Bram began to hum too. He even - and this truly showed the extent of his infatuation, if he were willing to do this - joined in with the few words he was positive belonged. After a meek "Nuggins, Nuggins," from Bram, Scout Harding looked back at him with a grin that made it all worthwhile.
"I wouldn't have taken you for the type to know that," she commented.
Balesly had told him to say that he'd picked it up in taverns. Colette had told him to say he'd picked it up from listening to Scout Harding. But Bram had never been much of one for lying, which was why he mumbled, "Oh! Ah, yes, well, I heard you humming it and I asked the Inquisitor what the song was. She kindly pointed me to someone who could teach it to me. It's very catchy," he added, in an attempt to appease her. Scout Harding's eyebrows rose, her lips issuing a surprised laugh, and she shook her head.
"I'm glad you like it," she chuckled. He couldn't help but notice her smile lasted a little longer.