Crickets chirped in the distance, beyond the blue haze of nightfall. Legam listened to their unique melody, his thoughts still dwelling on the Dalish elves. After nearly a week of searching, a scouting band confronted their group with mild hostility. A few placating words and explanations later, and the Wardens found themselves wrapped up in a tangled web of vengeance dating back centuries.
Legam sighed, plopping down onto the grass. He lay upon the soft earth, running a hand over his face and hair. Why couldn't any of the treaty negotiations go without a hitch? Something always happened – the dwarven politics in Orzammar sending them into the darkest depths of the Deep Roads; the attacks on the Circle dragging them into the Fade; and now, most recently, the hatred between humans and the Dalish forcing him to cut a swath through a small army of werewolves.
In the end, Legam persuaded his way into the best resolution – convincing the Dalish keeper to end his ancient curse, thus truly freeing the forest from its evil. Though it resulted in the death of Zathrian and the Lady, the mage regretted not his decision. The werewolves were human once more, Witherfang never again could taint other innocents, and the Dalish started recovering from the attacks. Now they offered their support for the upcoming war against the darkspawn.
The mage appreciated their promise of aid and was glad he helped bring some peace to the ancient forest. What aggravated him was that all this trouble cost him several weeks of precious time – a commodity he couldn't afford to spend much more of, if the reports of increasing darkspawn attacks told anything. He still needed to go to Redcliffe and seek Arl Eamon's support against Loghain.
Legam hoped they found the Arl in good health. Months ago, he heard Redcliffe's leader suffered from a grave illness. If Eamon remained sick, Legam suspected, far more complications and delays resided in his immediate future.
He heaved another sigh, scrunching his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Sometimes, he really missed the simple, peaceful days back at the Circle. True, it couldn't compete with his life as a Warden for adventure and exploration, but… Legam actually liked the hours of reading, of casting magic to learn or practice, rather than to kill and survive combat.
Not to mention as a regular Circle mage, chances were he'd live a long, productive and educational life. As a Warden, his life expectancy extended, at best, another three decades. Assuming darkspawn or other dangers didn't cut him down first, at least. Thinking on it further, he realized just how much he truly longed for his old life. Duncan invoked the Rite of Conscription to recruit him; Legam refused to come with him otherwise.
He groaned, annoyed at both the long week and his sudden shift in mood. While this life wasn't his choice, duty – nay, compassion and humanity demanded – that he follow this through to the end, no matter how burdensome it became at times. Legam's hand dragged down his face, stretching his features into an exaggerated scowl. Removing his fingers, the tension ceased and his face sprung back into its normal state.
Soft fingers brushed against his arm, startling Legam. He jerked up with a short yelp, tensing in the direction of the invasion. Leliana sat next to him, hand withdrawn, her face apologetic.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" She rubbed her ginger hair, embarrassed. "You just looked so frustrated and I thought you might appreciate a listening ear."
Recovering, Legam released a long breath, rubbing his chest. "It's all right. Sometimes I forget how quietly you move." He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin upon them. His eyes turned back to the bard. "As for my frustration, it's nothing special. Just me grumbling about things I can't fix."
"Ah, responsibilities about being a Warden weighing you down again?" She sympathized. "Didn't you talk to Wynne at length about this some time ago?"
"I did, and she's completely right," he admitted, "I can gripe and moan but it won't change a thing. Making the most of my time, of my duties, is what counts. I understand this and I accept it." He looked up to the stars. "It's just… Sometimes, after several long, long days, I stress about it regardless."
"Running yourself ragged tends to have that effect on a person," Leliana noted. "Even as a mage and a Warden, you are still only human. It is perfectly fine to allow yourself a weak moment every once in a while. So long as you have the strength to carry on, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
A smile slowly spread across his lips, "You speak truly. Thank you."
She returned his smile with a small smirk of her own. "Of course I speak truly. When will you men learn that women know the answers to everything?"
Legam barked a brief laugh. "Ha! I suppose our thick skulls prevent that particular snippet of information from sinking in."
"An excellent theory. Perhaps someone should test it one day." Leliana chuckled, glad his mood lifted.
"I volunteer Alistair. Certainly his skull's thick enough." Legam leered mischievously. They broke into a short bout of laughter, imagining the other Warden's flustered protests at such claims. The snickering died down, and the two friends fell into a comfortable silence, looking back up at the sapphire sky.
Contentment drove away his earlier agitation. Legam smiled again. While the mage felt bonds of friendships form between all his companions – even Sten and Morrigan – Leliana always managed to lift his spirits, no matter how low his mood dipped. He knew he had the same effect on her – perhaps that's why they usually sought out each other's company before others.
Legam shifted, looking over at his closest comrade. Though he enjoyed the silence, Leliana only kept quiet for this long when she dwelled on something. "You are uncharacteristically quiet. Something else on your mind?"
Leliana faced him, shrugging. "Oh, nothing morose. My thoughts dwell on the Dalish." She turned her gaze back towards the camp's bonfire.
"Oh? Something bothering you about them?"
She shook her head. "I was just thinking about what happened to the elves and I… am reminded of a song sung to me, many years ago." The bard's eyes saddened, "It was… when my mother died, and this wise elven woman comforted me and told me that we shouldn't fear death, or hate it."
Legam perched his elbow atop his knees, resting his cheek on his knuckles. Knowing she held his full attention, Leliana continued.
"Death is just another beginning. One day we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free."
The mage contemplated the image, smiling serenely. "That is comforting."
Leliana nodded in agreement. "It's a beautiful sentiment, I think – one that brings peace and hope to the grieving."
"Do you still know this song?" His green eyes widened, curious.
Leliana chuckled lowly, "Yes, though I am unsure how accurate my Elven pronunciation is." She met his gaze, "Would you like to hear it?"
"Have I ever told you to stop whenever you break into a hum, whistle, or song?"
She giggled, "I'll take that as a 'yes' then." Leliana rose, walking to her tent.
His head followed her movements, "Where are you going?"
Leliana picked up her lute from its nest. Returning, she sat back on the grass, facing the fire. "Just getting this. The song's not complete without the proper music."
Her fingers plucked the strings, a simple, yet elegant melody flowing from the instrument. Leliana repeated the
notes a few turns before adding her voice to the music. Only wordless chanting emitted from her vocal chords, but the lamentable tone remained clear. Before the bard sang the first lyric, Legam found himself already entranced.
Leliana inhaled briefly, beginning the first verse. "Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin." Despite her earlier self-depreciation, the Elven words flowed effortlessly from her lips, entwining perfectly with the lute's chords. "Vhenan him dor'felas." The bard turned her gaze from the fire. Her head lifted to face Legam, eyes locking on his. The mage, utterly spellbound by her voice, felt his insides somersault. Oddly, he rather enjoyed the sensation. "In uthenera na revas."
She flowed into wordless melody again, her azure eyes remaining focused on his own emerald orbs. Legam's insides flipped about again. Leliana's chants transitioned back into words, "Vir sulahn'nehn… Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin." Leliana finally broke eye contact, turning her gaze down to her instrument as the song drifted towards its end. Legam blinked, realizing he hadn't in several moments.
"Vir sulahn'nehn… Vir dirthera." Leliana closed her eyes, focusing completely on the music in its final verses. "Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin." She plucked the opening chords a few more times, slowing the notes until she eventually ceased. The bard quietly set her lute down, passing a sideways glance towards her audience. She repressed a giggle, seeing he remained captivated despite the song ending.
Legam heard Leliana sing many times before – anything from a simple whistling tune to a lute-accompanied melody like the one she just finished. However, this was the first time she sang for him and him specifically. Whether he remained enthralled because of the personal attention or the natural musical quality of the Elven tongue, he knew not. Whatever the case, the mage finally snapped back to reality, the fog lifting over his mind.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only garbled, incoherent sounds seeped out. Finally, Legam gave up talking and simply clapped his hands quietly. Leliana smiled, bashful. She twirled her finger around her braid.
"Thank you." She murmured. "A minstrel is always happy to see her audience so mesmerized."
"It was lovely." He rasped. Legam coughed, clearing his throat. His voice returned in full. "I shall remember to request personal performances in the future."
Leliana arched an eyebrow, studying his face to find any hint of veiled euphemisms. She saw none, and chose to take his comment as the obvious: in reference to her singing. Somehow, the prospect that Legam spoke without underlying intentions both pleased and disheartened her. An odd combination of emotions.
"Yes, well… Perhaps I shall oblige you once more in the future." She cleared her own throat, rising to her feet. "But not tonight. I have the late watch shift, so I should get my rest now."
He nodded. "I shan't keep you, then. Go get some sleep."
Leliana raised her hand in a small wave, "Good night, Legam. Make sure you get some proper sleep, yourself."
"Heh. I will, don't worry." She walked off to her tent, and the mage instantly felt empty by her absence.
He lay back down on the grass, covering his face in his hands. Legam thought back to her song, to the personal connection and spirituality he experienced when Leliana sang. Behind his palms, a grin formed. His insides repeated their earlier acrobatics.
Epiphany struck him, hard and fast as a genlock's blade. His fingers spread apart, revealing his dumbstruck eyes to the open skies.
He was in love with Leliana.
When did that happen? How could it happen? Legam groaned, fingers closing off his vision once more. Now a whole new army of worries invaded his thoughts.
So much for getting a good sleep tonight.