Chapter 8

When Leliana sat herself down next to Alistair by the fire and handed him a steaming bowl of stew, the man accepted it gratefully and greeted her with, "Oghren asked if he could cook Schmooples again, didn't he?"

While it was true that the drunk dwarf had asked on more than one occasion – ninety-seven times, in fact – Leliana was quite sure that she had kept her displeasure strictly to herself. If Alistair could see through her, then clearly she wasn't doing very well in that regard. Or he was more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

Some bard she was, unable to stop being an open book.

"How can you tell?"

"Oh, I overheard you talking while I went to spy on Morrigan, make sure she didn't poison my stew. You know how it is. Can't be too careful."

Despite her considerable frustration, Leliana breathed out a laugh.

"Poor sod probably misses his home," Alistair continued, shovelling spoonfuls of meat and vegetables into his mouth. "I was hesitant about trying some of the nug preparations, but I have to say, they were quite tasty. Especially those nug pancakes and nug-gets. Oh and there was this special dish where the nug was seared and dressed in a cream sauce flavoured with deep mushrooms. Delightful."

"You seem to have taken to dwarven cuisine quite readily."

"If it's food, my stomach can plough over it quite easily. That's one of the privileges of being Fereldan, I suppose. Have you eaten?"

Humming, Leliana brought her knees up and placed her elbows atop them, supporting her chin on her palms in turn. "I understand that seeing Schmooples reminds him of Orzammar, but this is a bit much. I miss Orlais too, doesn't mean I hound everybody to cook Orlesian meals."

"No, instead you fawn over shoes," Alistair supplied innocently. Then with a cough, he added: "Are you sure it's safe to leave Schmooples unsupervised? I mean, there is a predator on the prowl, after all."

Leliana grunted. So unladylike. "I left him with Wynne and Solona. I have also bribed Faren to keep Oghren distracted."

"Now that was good thinking." The man spooned around the vegetables as he chewed on the beef. Then he asked, "You miss Orlais much?"

"Yes and no. I miss some things. Why?"

"You see I was thinking," Alistair said after slurping down some of the stew. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "In Orlais you'd speak a lot of Orlesian, yeah? I was thinking I should learn some."

Slowly, Leliana craned her neck around to look at her companion. She didn't quite know what to make of what he had just said. "Pardon?"

"I mean, what harm could it do? Nothing bad can come out of learning something new, right? There were a lot of longsword manuals of the Chevaliers in Redcliffe castle. I used to look at the pictures. Couldn't understand a word." He then jabbed his spoon at her face. "Besides, if we can both speak Orlesian, maybe you'd miss Orlais a little less."

Leliana smiled warmly and stopped herself from reaching out and squeezing his cheeks. He had very squeezable cheeks. "You are very sweet, Alistair. And quite thoughtful."

"It seems you're onto me now," he said and sighed dramatically. "Don't tell the others though. It'll be our little secret."

"But are you really serious about learning Orlesian?" she asked. "I thought you weren't fond of Orlesians?"

"Well, yeah." Alistair put down the finished bowl beside him. "But if I know Orlesian, I can understand what all they're saying about me. Plus, I really want to swear in Orlesian."

Ah. That's more believable.

"So will you teach me, then?"

Leliana smiled and tousled his hair. "I can try to teach you some. I must warn you that I am no teacher."

"I'll take what I can get," he said eagerly and turned himself around to face her, like a pupil facing his teacher. The look of enthusiasm and concentration on his face was rather endearing. "Say, does my name change in Orlesian? Or does it remain the same?"

"No, no. Your name remains the same. It's your name, Alistair. You pronounce it the way you want."

"Okay okay," Alistair said and rubbed his palms together. "This is exciting. How do I introduce myself, then?"

"All right, repeat after me: Je m'apelle Alistair."

"Wait, what apple?"

Leliana laughed. "Not an apple, silly! Je m'apelle."

"What's that mean?"

"Literally, it means 'I am' or 'My name is'. Let's try again, yes?"

"Sure sure."

So she repeated herself, this time a bit slower so that he could grasp the pronunciation.

Alistair repeated quite seriously, "Zhe da peel."

Leiana's smile faltered slightly. She said, "Huh. That is not... quite what I'm saying."

With a tilt of his head, Alistair replied, "It sounds exactly the same to me, though."

"Let's try breaking it down into syllables, okay? But really listen well."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Repeat after me: Je."

"Zhu."

"Mah."

"Mah."

"Pell."

"Pell."

Her smile returning, Leliana clapped. "Okay, that was great! Now faster. Ready?"

"You bet."

"Je."

"Zhe."

"Mah."

"Mah."

"Pell."

"Pell."

"Je m'apelle!"

"Lee puupuu!"

Leliana's smile vanished completely and she cradled her head in her hands. "Oh mon Deux."

And across from her came the response: "Oh De Foof."

It was too hard. The man was surely deaf? How could anyone muck up so badly at hearing and-

Take a deep breath.

She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nostrils.

Hold it in. Then exhale slowly.

Parting her lips, she exhaled and repeated the exercise a few more times.

Now calmer, Leliana thought back to the first time she went hunting with Marjolaine. She had shot and wounded a hart but was too afraid to track it and put it out of misery. She'd been impressed when Marjorlaine had done it for her. The older woman's resolve had made a mark on her that day, but had done nothing to assuage her guilt. She'd often compared herself to her mentor and that one incident always stood out as a personal failure; an incident where she had been unable to finish what she'd started.

In many ways, this mirrors that.

Alistair was her new injured hart. Disregarding his doe-eyed trusting nature – which was cute – she couldn't just leave him hanging in the middle of a lesson. Teaching Alistair Orlesian is going to be my personal victory. So what if he's terrible? It's a challenge! And she was not one to shy away from a challenge.

Bringing her palms together, Leliana intertwined her fingers and brought them up to her forehead.

Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken.

'For you, song-weaver, once more I will try.

To My children venture, carrying wisdom,

If they but listen, I shall return.'

With renewed vigour, Leliana straightened. "Alistair."

"Yes?"

Leliana placed her hands on his shoulders and felt him stiffen. She decided to ignore his little yelp of surprise.

"By the Maker, I'll have you speaking Orlesian by the end of the year," she declared, grinning widely.

"Umm..."

"I cannot abandon yet another injured hart!"

"What even..."