“You meant her? Is that the one they call Dragonborn?” Ondolemar heard Loviron from behind his back, could almost see how he pointed vaguely in the direction of – in this case, apparently – a woman. He knew that mer all too well by know, better than he actually liked to, and could even picture the face he made. Ondolemar didn’t turn around to view whatever it now was his guards were talking about, just kept on walking. Walking was an exaggeration. He was pacing, like a caged animal. For the time being there wasn’t much more to do, and he had his orders. Waiting for reports to come in, delivering new decrees and keep an eye on this untrustworthy man who titled himself jarl. And to keep him company during these long days: The Two Mongrels - Loviron and Saurtha - because he apparently needed guards. “Yes, that’s her”, Saurtha answered. No, Ondolemar didn’t enjoy their company. For simple reasons, really. Loviron talked entirely too much in his opinion. If there had been laws against slander, Loviron would have been imprisoned or fined a long time ago. When it came to Saurtha, she lacked ideas to put it kindly. She repeated phrases that she’d read or heard as if they were her own. This far he doubted she even understood the meaning of anything she said. Why these two had been sent to him here in Markarth was a question he had asked himself several times, and in the end he could only come to two solutions. EIther it was because they - infact - were good soldiers, and nothing more than that. Or it was to annoy him. Elenwen could have such a strange sense of humour. She had sent him here, hadn’t she? “Dressed in furs? Barbaric”, Loviron scoffed. “She really is the personification of man.” “I’ve heard she smells worse than the dogs”, Saurtha murmured, “And I have seen fur growing out of her ears.” Loviron laughed out loud. Ondolemar sighed and turned around, facing the two soldiers. “By all means, speak louder. She might not hear you.” “It’s just a woman”, Saurtha stated. “Hardly dangerous.” “On a contrary, my friend; men might be beasts and nothing more, but they are treacherous.” Ondolemar was just about to get back to his pacing, as Loviron spoke. “Look at her”, he pointed, just as vaguely as Ondolemar had pictured him earlier, at a tall woman who were walking up the steps towards the Jarl’s throne. “Does she look like she could pose any threat? And they call her Dragonborn.” She disappeared behind a pillar, all he managed to see of her was long blond hair trying to get out of a loose bun. She was probably engaged in some petty issue like everybody else who approached the throne. Being jarl must be an utter horror.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: What happens in Markarth stays in Markarth 1
Date: 2015-08-05 03:01 pm (UTC)Ondolemar heard Loviron from behind his back, could almost see how he pointed vaguely in the direction of – in this case, apparently – a woman. He knew that mer all too well by know, better than he actually liked to, and could even picture the face he made. Ondolemar didn’t turn around to view whatever it now was his guards were talking about, just kept on walking. Walking was an exaggeration. He was pacing, like a caged animal. For the time being there wasn’t much more to do, and he had his orders. Waiting for reports to come in, delivering new decrees and keep an eye on this untrustworthy man who titled himself jarl.
And to keep him company during these long days: The Two Mongrels - Loviron and Saurtha - because he apparently needed guards.
“Yes, that’s her”, Saurtha answered.
No, Ondolemar didn’t enjoy their company. For simple reasons, really. Loviron talked entirely too much in his opinion. If there had been laws against slander, Loviron would have been imprisoned or fined a long time ago.
When it came to Saurtha, she lacked ideas to put it kindly. She repeated phrases that she’d read or heard as if they were her own. This far he doubted she even understood the meaning of anything she said. Why these two had been sent to him here in Markarth was a question he had asked himself several times, and in the end he could only come to two solutions. EIther it was because they - infact - were good soldiers, and nothing more than that. Or it was to annoy him. Elenwen could have such a strange sense of humour. She had sent him here, hadn’t she?
“Dressed in furs? Barbaric”, Loviron scoffed. “She really is the personification of man.”
“I’ve heard she smells worse than the dogs”, Saurtha murmured, “And I have seen fur growing out of her ears.”
Loviron laughed out loud.
Ondolemar sighed and turned around, facing the two soldiers. “By all means, speak louder. She might not hear you.”
“It’s just a woman”, Saurtha stated. “Hardly dangerous.”
“On a contrary, my friend; men might be beasts and nothing more, but they are treacherous.” Ondolemar was just about to get back to his pacing, as Loviron spoke.
“Look at her”, he pointed, just as vaguely as Ondolemar had pictured him earlier, at a tall woman who were walking up the steps towards the Jarl’s throne. “Does she look like she could pose any threat? And they call her Dragonborn.”
She disappeared behind a pillar, all he managed to see of her was long blond hair trying to get out of a loose bun. She was probably engaged in some petty issue like everybody else who approached the throne. Being jarl must be an utter horror.