High Hrothgar looked just as it had when Ulfric had left. He stood in silence on the steps for a moment, his eyes on the fort before him and the memories returning. Beside him, Finn watched warily, wondering what exactly those memories were, and crouched to let her triplets down into the snow.
“I need to go inside,” she told her companion, wringing her hands a little. “Would you...wait out here, with these ones?”
“That would probably be best,” the Jarl agreed, taking a seat on the cold stone steps. Finn smiled now, almost sadly, and gave him one more look before vanishing through the large doors. In the silence that she left behind, he looked down at the dragons, watching them fall over each other in their play. For whatever reason, Finn's complaint about his lack of talking came to mind, and the words he remembered so well followed.
“Drem yol lok, dovahkirre,” he offered. The hatchlings looked amongst themselves for a moment, before the most outgoing of the three approached him slowly, a glint in its small eyes.
“Drem yol lok, bormah. Monah los gut?”
“Niid,” Ulfric insisted, pointing back at the fortress behind them. “Monah los tinvaak voth Faal Onik Muz.” The hatchling seemed satisfied with this, and took a seat on the step beside him. The Jarl sighed a little, holding out a hand tentatively and watching as the dragon eyed it just as curiously. Maybe Finn wasn't entirely crazy for finding these little beasts endearing...or maybe he was just as crazy.
Before he could think about it more, a set of small teeth clamped down on his finger.
“Master Arngeir,” Finn greeted the elderly man as she approached his favorite stone chair. The Greybeard looked up from his book, nodding his own greeting as the Breton came out of the shadows.
“What brings you here, Dovahkiin?” he asked, closing the book gently. Finn sighed, not even sure where to begin.
“I may as well just put it simply,” she decided aloud. “I came across a dead dragon on my travels, as well as three live hatchlings. I've...taken them in, it's safe to say. I've come to ask for help.” Arngeir raised an eyebrow, rising from his chair.
“You plan to raise dragons?” he echoed, frowning. “I have seen this tried by some in the past, but few dare to even spare a young dragon their blade, let alone adopt them.” He paused, turning away and thinking for a moment. “Where are these hatchlings?”
“Outside,” Finn replied, deciding that it would be best to keep Ulfric's identity quiet for the time being. Arngeir shook his head, sighing.
“Hm. Dovahkiin, I have never doubted the quality of your character. You have a strong heart, that much is more than clear. But to try and take on such a task would have you struggling more than you can imagine. I'd recommend taking them to Paarthurnax, but we have already sensed that he is...away. With that in mind, Odahviing may be considered as an option, now that he has sworn his loyalty to you.” Finn bowed her head, her fists clenched at her sides as she let the words sink in.
“I...I have nothing but respect for your advice, Master Arngeir,” she replied, a sharp undertone to her voice, “but I know that I can do this. I have all the help I need, as a matter of fact.” When the Greybeard remained silent, she turned away, trying to make her small frame larger as she walked away again. “That's all, then.”
“Gods be with you, Dovahkiin,” she heard him murmur to her back.
"Something Like Parents" 4/?
“I need to go inside,” she told her companion, wringing her hands a little. “Would you...wait out here, with these ones?”
“That would probably be best,” the Jarl agreed, taking a seat on the cold stone steps. Finn smiled now, almost sadly, and gave him one more look before vanishing through the large doors. In the silence that she left behind, he looked down at the dragons, watching them fall over each other in their play. For whatever reason, Finn's complaint about his lack of talking came to mind, and the words he remembered so well followed.
“Drem yol lok, dovahkirre,” he offered. The hatchlings looked amongst themselves for a moment, before the most outgoing of the three approached him slowly, a glint in its small eyes.
“Drem yol lok, bormah. Monah los gut?”
“Niid,” Ulfric insisted, pointing back at the fortress behind them. “Monah los tinvaak voth Faal Onik Muz.” The hatchling seemed satisfied with this, and took a seat on the step beside him. The Jarl sighed a little, holding out a hand tentatively and watching as the dragon eyed it just as curiously. Maybe Finn wasn't entirely crazy for finding these little beasts endearing...or maybe he was just as crazy.
Before he could think about it more, a set of small teeth clamped down on his finger.
“Master Arngeir,” Finn greeted the elderly man as she approached his favorite stone chair. The Greybeard looked up from his book, nodding his own greeting as the Breton came out of the shadows.
“What brings you here, Dovahkiin?” he asked, closing the book gently. Finn sighed, not even sure where to begin.
“I may as well just put it simply,” she decided aloud. “I came across a dead dragon on my travels, as well as three live hatchlings. I've...taken them in, it's safe to say. I've come to ask for help.” Arngeir raised an eyebrow, rising from his chair.
“You plan to raise dragons?” he echoed, frowning. “I have seen this tried by some in the past, but few dare to even spare a young dragon their blade, let alone adopt them.” He paused, turning away and thinking for a moment. “Where are these hatchlings?”
“Outside,” Finn replied, deciding that it would be best to keep Ulfric's identity quiet for the time being. Arngeir shook his head, sighing.
“Hm. Dovahkiin, I have never doubted the quality of your character. You have a strong heart, that much is more than clear. But to try and take on such a task would have you struggling more than you can imagine. I'd recommend taking them to Paarthurnax, but we have already sensed that he is...away. With that in mind, Odahviing may be considered as an option, now that he has sworn his loyalty to you.” Finn bowed her head, her fists clenched at her sides as she let the words sink in.
“I...I have nothing but respect for your advice, Master Arngeir,” she replied, a sharp undertone to her voice, “but I know that I can do this. I have all the help I need, as a matter of fact.” When the Greybeard remained silent, she turned away, trying to make her small frame larger as she walked away again. “That's all, then.”
“Gods be with you, Dovahkiin,” she heard him murmur to her back.