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Ennoshita touched lightly the strings of his lute, testing their sound, humming to himself.
The camp was fairly quiet -quite the feat, considering that Tanaka and Nishinoya were roaming about. The only noises were the cracks of the fireplace, the clacking of armor being polished, the quiet chattering of Michimiya, Shimizu, Suga and Asahi, and Ennoshita’s lute.
Moments like that were precious, in their chaotic lives always on the move, and Ennoshita was grateful for them. He brushed again the instrument, satisfied with the sound, and started playing mindlessly, accompanying the melody of the night. He didn’t play anything in particular, moving from one tune to the other in smooth transitions.
Chikara saw Daichi joining the chatting group, followed eventually by a restless Nishinoya. He frowned a little, both at a particularly difficult chord and at the sight of Noya. It was rare to see him without Tanaka at his heels, so the elf had to wonder just were the Nevarran man had wondered to. He sighed, another song already being born from his hands. More often than not Ennoshita felt more like a nan than everything else, having to worry about his companions’ whereabouts.
The peace and quiet, and his musings, were interrupted abruptly by a sudden presence right behind him . “Are you playing the Ballad of Ayesleigh ?” Ennoshita let out a surprised noise, and then blushed out of embarrassment for that fearful scream. Tanaka was looking at him, eyes bright, hands behind his back, looking completely interested. Ennoshita almost didn’t have the heart to reprimand him for scaring five years of life out of him.
Almost.
“Tanaka, how many times have I told you not to sneak on me?” Ennoshita adjusted himself in his seat, taking the lute who had fallen from his lap. “You might end up with a knife in your head one of these days.”
“Yeah, I’d like to see you try that.” Tanaka took a seat right next him, bumping shoulders. “Was that Ayesleigh or not?”
“…maybe.” Ennoshita sighed, playing some random notes on the instrument. “I wasn’t really thinking about what I was playing.”
“Damn, Chikara, you really live in your own little world.” Tanaka said, clicking his fingers before Ennoshita’s eyes, as if to wake him up. Ennoshita slapped his hand away, with an eye roll.
“Stop that. And you are one to speak about your own little world, ser I stepped on horse shit because I was pining after lady Shimizu” the elf teased, the lazy smile on his lips changing into an heartfelt grin at Tanaka’s blushing and at his attempt to shut him up by clasping his hands on his mouth.
“Would you keep quiet? There’s no need to bring back the past!” Tanaka quickly whispered- or did the Tanaka family equivalent of whispering- and then added. “And I wasn’t pining. I was basking in beauty.”
Ennoshita snorted a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that. That’s flat out pining where I come from.” Ennoshita was quite the expert in pining, and especially pining after the warrior that was currently wrestling the lute out of his hands to fight him -not that he’d admit that out loud or even to himself.
Tanaka tried to tackle him, but Ennoshita smashed his hand into the other’s face, eliciting a pained whine. He freed his lute from Tanaka’s claws, and caressed the instrument as if it was a pet, checking for scratches. Ennoshita sent one last glare to his companion, silently telling him to settle down or at the very least keep his distance from the item. Tanaka complied, leaning with his back on Ennoshita’s shoulder once again, definitely not pouting.
Ennoshita shook his head, losing the fight against the small fond smile on his face. His fingers resumed their dance on the strings, music filling once again the night.
It might have been less than five minutes, when a calloused finger was poking at his cheek. “Ehi” poke “Chikara” poke “Ennoshita” another poke “Chikaraa-” Before another poke could reach his face, Ennoshita leaned back, and he would have totally put an hand to his face if it weren’t that both of them were busy with playing. “What is it now, Tanaka?”
“Play the Ballad of Ayesleigh.” he asked, eyes glistening with excitement. Ennohista gave him a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow.
“Why do you like that song so much? It’s-” he struggled for a moment to find the words. “It’s sad.”
“That song is fucking epic!” Tanaka protested, gesturing vaguely but not shifting his weight from Ennoshita. “Fourth Blight, an hero against an army of Darkspawn! Griffons!” he added the last word with an almost overwhelming excitement.
“But Garahel dies at the end.” Ennoshita observed. He started recollecting bits of the ballad, regardless. He supposed he could take one request that night.
Tanaka stopped in his movement, obviously thinking of a comeback. “Yeah, well, that’s a Grey Warden for you. And tragedies are kind of good, you know? The best stories are the one with the hero dying. I can’t believe I have to tell you this.”
“Fine, I’ll play it for you.” Ennoshita said, already transitioning to the new melody, which was dark and tragic, especially since he had chosen one of the most bloody parts of the ballad. Tanaka made a victorious noise, and leaned his head back as well, resting on Ennoshita. Immediately, Ennoshita felt a vibration running from his shoulder, only to realize that Tanaka was humming along, and that he was tapping a foot following the rhythm. The elf kept playing, with a little more conviction, encouraged by Tanaka’s humming.
The reason Ennoshita wasn’t particularly fond of that Ballad, or any other where the hero died, was that when he imagined the face of that hero, it was always one of his friends. One day was Daichi’s, another it was Nishinoya’s, another it was Asahi’s, but more often than not it was Tanaka’s. Those stories put him before the fact that his companions, much braver than him, might find an earlier end while trying to be heroic. It was unsettling, for Ennoshita, especially since, in those same stories, he felt like that one character that’s left behind by the hero, destined to grieve for the rest of his life for the loss of the protagonist. He didn’t like to think about a life spent grieving for Tanaka. Or any of the others he quickly added mentally, red painting a little his pointed ears.
“ …the wind that stirs
their shallow graves
carries their song
across the sands…”
Ennoshita almost dropped the lute in surprise once again, when he heard Tanaka’s voice singing at the music. His jaw, on the other hand, did drop. It was the first time he heard Tanaka’s singing, and Maker preserve him, that wasn’t what was he expecting it. Not that he had been imagining it -he wasn’t that big of a love struck fool- but if someone had asked him how Tanaka’s voice would have sounded, he’d have answered “rough, probably off-tone, somewhat husky”.
“…heed our words
hear our cry
the grey are sworn
in peace we lie…”
Of course it was the exact contrary. Smooth, velvety and perfectly toned, Tanaka’s voice was a stark contrast to the obscure and ominous words of the ballad, which was telling of pain and war.
Tanaka shifted, carried away by the lyrics of the ballad, which was fastening its rhythm, and raised both arms, as if he was one of the Grey Wardens singing and asking for victory.
“… heed our words
hear our cry
our names recalled
we cannot die …”
Tanaka turned toward Ennoshita, who was completely at a loss, both because he had still to recover from Tanaka’s vocal cords and because of his interpretation of the ballad, which truth be told didn’t seem at all improvised, but quite carved into his memory. The human placed an hand on Ennoshita’s shoulder, looking at him straight in the eyes, the flames from the fireplace reflected in them, and his other arm was close to his own chest, hand clenched in a fist.
“… when darkness comes
and swallows light …”
Tanaka shot up to his feet, arms stretched out, a broad grin on his face, facing the bonfire, but throwing a glance at Ennoshita, who kept playing barely paying attention to where his finger were, following Tanaka with with his gaze.
“… heed our words
and we shall rise!”
At the word “rise”, he pumped a fist toward the sky, quite dramatically, but gaining the effect he wanted. From the little group on the other side of the fire, a chorus of fierce applause roared, above all Nishinoya’s cheering voice. Ryuu bowed at his public, chuckling, more than once, eventually bowing to Ennoshita as well, and grasping his hand and forcing him to his feet, to receive the applause as well, forcing Ennoshita -a quite flustered Ennoshita, an Ennoshita who was trying to not laugh too hard at Tanaka’s antics, an happy Ennoshita- to bow and bow with him until the cheering had stopped -which meant Daichi shouting at Nishinoya to stop making a ruckus.
Ennoshita had managed to keep most of the blush out of his face, and not to let his mind dwell on the hot and sweaty hand which was crushing his own. He turned his head, to find that the owner of the hand was still cackling and was looking straight at him in the eyes. Ennoshita smiled as well, cocking his head a bit to the side. That seemed to have done the trick. Tanaka stopped laughing, instead sucking a breath in, eyes as big as two plates. He pulled away his hand, slowly, almost reluctantly. Ennoshita’s fingers curled around the air, subconsciously, and he had to retreat it to his side before looking more foolish than he already was.
Tanaka cleared his throat - was it the bonfire or was he blushing - and scratched the back of his head with the same hand that was holding Ennoshita’s a few moments before. He adverted his gaze, looking at the ground. “That was, uh, fun.”
“Yes it was.” Ennoshita decided that he had to do something with his hands as well, and that he couldn’t scratch the nape of his head as well, so he decided to fold them before him, fumbling with his fingers. “I didn’t know you could sing like that.” he added, trying not to sound as surprised and pleased as he was. Tanaka didn’t really need an ego boost in that moment.
“I’m a man of many talents.” Tanaka defended himself. Then he added, an eyebrow raised, a tone that had to be suggestive. “Many, many hidden talents that you can’t even start to imagine.”
Is he hitting on me? “Well, ‘man of many talents’, I hope that one of them is staying awake with just two hours of sleep, because you have the midnight guard shift and you are wasting precious rest.”
Tanaka’s mood changed swiftly, and he cursed, looking at the sky to have an idea of what time it was. “Fuck, better get going. Ser Dai will come after me if I fall asleep during guard shift again.” he moved toward the tent he shared with Nishinoya, before turning. “Uh,” he started, shyly , which wasn’t a word usually used to describe Tanaka. “would you mind, uh, do it again, sometime? The singing, I mean.”
Ennoshita placed his hands on his hips, lips curved in a small smile. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Now move your ass and get some sleep.”
Tanaka gave him a thumb up, beaming, then he waved over his shoulder, jogging toward the tent. Ennoshita waved back, then fell back in his seat with an huff.
That went well . Ennoshita racing mind could only manage that thought, as he continuously shifted his gaze from the lute to the tent then back to the lute. He smiled to himself, feeling strangely inspired. He took ink, a pen and a piece of paper from his backpack, that had been abandoned near his spot when they had made camp.
Ennoshita started humming to himself, doing something that he hadn’t tried to do in a while: write his own ballad. He stuck out his tongue, deep in thought, sure of one thing only.
He wouldn’t write a ballad where the hero dies.