Her voice was very low, but very strong. I felt the power of the thu'um ripple over my head like a breath of wind, yet not.
“So you admit, you were lying.” I replied. She had nothing to say to that.
You probably already know what happened next, brother. It was all anyone would talk of for a week.
Mikael, poor lad, chose that moment to begin a round of Ragnar the Red. Irritating song, that. Eyja thought so too. She turned, and took three strides towards him. I watched as she snatched the lute from his hands, and how the wood splintered in her grip. Someone swore—it might even have been me-- as she swung the thing over her head, like it was a sword, and brought it crashing down against a table. It shattered into a mess of strings and wooden shards. The room fell silent.
Someone sniggered into their cup.
Eyja advanced on Mikael and grabbed the front of his shirt, so tight that I could see the whites of her knuckles. There was a shout as Eyja barrelled him into the wall, and brought her face inches from his. I saw her full lips curl into a sneer. She all but bared her teeth at him.
“Eyja,” I said, taking a few steps towards her. No one else was willing to do it.
“Can’t a woman drink in peace, without you squallingin the background?” Eyja snarled at Mikael, shaking him. His eyes were wide in panic; I think he might have whimpered, gazing down into that fierce gold stare. It was, to me, as if a stranger had met me at the foot of the mountain wearing Eyja’s shape; never before had I seen her so angry. Not when Alduin escaped her at the Throat of the World, or when she gathered the peace meeting at the monastery. Not even, at the news of Kodlak’s death.
So angry, and at a silly little bard.
“Pathetic,” Eyja scoffed and let him go. Mikael sank, almost gratefully, to the ground. I noticed how his hands shook as he reached out to gather the pieces of his broken lute. One of the tavern girls crept over to help him. Eyja noticed, and the girl froze the way prey does in the eyes of its predator.
And then Eyja began to speak. Shout, even. She shouted herself hoarse, but I didn’t understand a word what was said. I watched her turn away from Mikael and the girl and fling her arms out, gesturing wildly to the patrons. I imagine I had the same bewildered expression on my face as any other, as the foreign words spilled from Eyja’s lips, vile and furious. The air was suddenly very hard to breathe, as the thu’um—it must have been—echoed from the walls and filled the corners of the room. This strange feeling, fear, started bubbling in my stomach. I was suddenly scared of what Eyja might do. How does someone react when the Dragonborn throws a tantrum? Hide, and hope she calms down?
“Eyja,” I began again. She whirled around to face me. Her eyes softened. The angry words stopped abruptly, and almost as sudden came the sensation that I could breathe again. I watched a faint blush began to creep over her cheeks, as she started to stumble backwards towards the door. Mikael staggered to the left in the wake of her anger, the tavern girl with him. He turned to me as I hurried after her.
“Best remember everything else,” I heard him quip in a breathless voice. He rubbed his neck with his left hand, and clutched a piece of his lute with the other. Damned bard has an answer for everything “I dread to think what might happen if you forgot her birthday.”
Another time I might have turned back and taught the little milk-drinker not to eavesdrop on private conversations, but the door was already closing behind Eyja. I caught it before it could shut. Followed Eyja into the cold.
**
Here, you notice how reluctantly the stranger speaks. He turns away from you, and clears his throat. Embarrassed? Why? It takes him a while to continue...
Eyja Went Up The Mountain F!DB/Vilkas [5b/?]
“So you admit, you were lying.” I replied. She had nothing to say to that.
You probably already know what happened next, brother. It was all anyone would talk of for a week.
Mikael, poor lad, chose that moment to begin a round of Ragnar the Red. Irritating song, that. Eyja thought so too. She turned, and took three strides towards him. I watched as she snatched the lute from his hands, and how the wood splintered in her grip. Someone swore—it might even have been me-- as she swung the thing over her head, like it was a sword, and brought it crashing down against a table. It shattered into a mess of strings and wooden shards. The room fell silent.
Someone sniggered into their cup.
Eyja advanced on Mikael and grabbed the front of his shirt, so tight that I could see the whites of her knuckles. There was a shout as Eyja barrelled him into the wall, and brought her face inches from his. I saw her full lips curl into a sneer. She all but bared her teeth at him.
“Eyja,” I said, taking a few steps towards her. No one else was willing to do it.
“Can’t a woman drink in peace, without you squallingin the background?” Eyja snarled at Mikael, shaking him. His eyes were wide in panic; I think he might have whimpered, gazing down into that fierce gold stare. It was, to me, as if a stranger had met me at the foot of the mountain wearing Eyja’s shape; never before had I seen her so angry. Not when Alduin escaped her at the Throat of the World, or when she gathered the peace meeting at the monastery. Not even, at the news of Kodlak’s death.
So angry, and at a silly little bard.
“Pathetic,” Eyja scoffed and let him go. Mikael sank, almost gratefully, to the ground. I noticed how his hands shook as he reached out to gather the pieces of his broken lute. One of the tavern girls crept over to help him. Eyja noticed, and the girl froze the way prey does in the eyes of its predator.
And then Eyja began to speak. Shout, even. She shouted herself hoarse, but I didn’t understand a word what was said. I watched her turn away from Mikael and the girl and fling her arms out, gesturing wildly to the patrons. I imagine I had the same bewildered expression on my face as any other, as the foreign words spilled from Eyja’s lips, vile and furious. The air was suddenly very hard to breathe, as the thu’um—it must have been—echoed from the walls and filled the corners of the room. This strange feeling, fear, started bubbling in my stomach. I was suddenly scared of what Eyja might do. How does someone react when the Dragonborn throws a tantrum? Hide, and hope she calms down?
“Eyja,” I began again. She whirled around to face me. Her eyes softened. The angry words stopped abruptly, and almost as sudden came the sensation that I could breathe again. I watched a faint blush began to creep over her cheeks, as she started to stumble backwards towards the door. Mikael staggered to the left in the wake of her anger, the tavern girl with him. He turned to me as I hurried after her.
“Best remember everything else,” I heard him quip in a breathless voice. He rubbed his neck with his left hand, and clutched a piece of his lute with the other. Damned bard has an answer for everything “I dread to think what might happen if you forgot her birthday.”
Another time I might have turned back and taught the little milk-drinker not to eavesdrop on private conversations, but the door was already closing behind Eyja. I caught it before it could shut. Followed Eyja into the cold.
**
Here, you notice how reluctantly the stranger speaks. He turns away from you, and clears his throat. Embarrassed? Why? It takes him a while to continue...