Buffoon's note: In case you forgot, Alenina is the bard found in Trademeet's inn, That's all I'm gonna tell. Well, with the exception of this:

Disclaimer: Though you already know it, I don't own anything, don't earn money from it because of the fact that BG2 and its characters belong to Bioware.

The fountain's water was making a reflect of the sad silhouette before it. Shaking and sobbing in the grass, the reflected girl stood up, stiffening. Then, the girl moved her head in direction to a nearly tree. There was a woman who sat at its side.

The water also reflected that woman. Blonde curls were her hair, full lips were the ones that let her mouth shut and open to produce a melodious sound. Smooth features were hers, and lithe her body was. . Her arms wrapped an elegant harp, letting to know that the woman was a bard

The young girl went to see the woman. A sad smile crept in the girl's lips when she reckoned the other female. The bard returned the smile. Then a conversation was heard.

"Hello, Alenina" said the young girl , sadness still visible in her eyes. The bard squeezed her shoulder "Nice to see you, Imoen".

Reflect of friendship was that of the females near the fountain.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two hours later, Imoen ate her meal quietly at the inn, often looking at Alenina, who just smiled. The bard was no close friend of hers, yet she travelled a bit with Andure and Viconia and helped Haer' Dalis with the book. The mage had no idea why did she come here, but she would not ask... not now at least.

Imoen glanced at her "I'm going to my room" She said and stood up from her chair. Then, Alenina gestured with her hand to her to stay. Imoen nodded silently.

"My young friend, I'm sure that your silence is due to something wrong. Would you like to talk about it?" she asked gently.

Imoen's reply wasn't gentle as hers, though "I'm not going to open myself with someone that I know little. Sorry, me go to bed" she retorted. Alenina stood up too and grabbed firmly Imoen by the arm. "What is wrong with you? You can tell me, I won't say anything about it."

The thief and the were lost in the silence. No words were spoken, no sound was heard, until Imoen opened her mouth. "Puffguts is... Winthrop... he's dead" she managed to speak, tears already wetting her grey eyes.

Alenina squeezed her back, giving a respectful nod and saying "I'm sorry to hear it. He was a friend of mine too" " Imoen moved towards the bard, a smile in her lips "Don't worry. Though I'm not sure why he died. He would have told me, wouldn't he?" she stopped smiling and bit her upper lip. "The only words he spoke were that he went to Neverwinter and met a helmite priest."

"He went to Neverwinter?" exclaimed Alenina surprised. The thief nodded. "Imoen, Neverwinter is suffering from a presumed contagious sickness!" Then, Imoen's eyes widened. " Are you suggesting that Winthrop died of that?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

Alenina's eyebrows were in a frown. "I'm not sure. They've recently closed the doors, fearing that the sickness would spread across the Sword Coast. Just yesterday."

"Winthrop returned a week ago. It's impossible that they had closed the city with him inside." Then, the silence enveloped them again, this time in thought and not in respect.

"Perhaps he was one of the first victims of this mysterious illness. Helmite priests are the ones that spread 'hope' in Neverwinter and moan about how difficult is their job." she said, a smile twitching her lips. Imoen nodded, then noticed the smile and asked "Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I'm sure that we all know many moaning priests." and the smile turned into a grin.

"Hey! Anomen and Aerie were not that whiny!" she said in a mock indignation. "Imoen, do I have to remember you that I travelled with Andure and Viconia? Viconia was no longer a priestess, but still..." she trailed of, and chuckled as she saw Imoen's face almost wincing to stop the laugh. "Don't worry, Viconia is not near." she said tentatively. Then, Imoen let a gale of laughter out of her chest, and Alenina did the same.

Imoen could not believe this. She was remembering her friends with happiness and not with regret and sadness. Damn bards, she thought, They can cheer you up in the worst of times.

Was the one who cheered her up Alenina? Or was herself the one who abandoned her grief over Winthrop's death, Miradel's ascension and her friends' departure? Could it be?

Perhaps she had hope?