A/N: Part 3 was a little long, have to post it in two pieces.
The situation made her cheeks color abruptly, and she stumbled to her feet, only to groan as her hand moved back to painfully massage her knotted back.
“Divines, I’m so sorry Paarthurnax. I can’t believe I just went to sleep like that, and sitting up no less. You could have woken me…” she stumbled over her words, flushing a little darker when the dragon canted his head and she almost felt the weight of his amusement. “But, um… thank you anyway.”
“Drem… it was no bother, Dovahkiin. There was a weight upon you, and you needed rest. As well, it was good to have the company of another Dovah. Even dragonblooded as you are, you will find that there can only be so much companionship to be had with those who can never understand your true tongue.”
Unsure of what to say to that the Dragonborn just started brushed herself off, picking up her pack and slinging it over her shoulder again. “Well, it was good visiting again, Paarthurnax. I suppose I had better get going. If you’re right I’ve got plenty more destiny left for me, I’d better not keep it waiting.”
Waving goodbye to the old Dovah, she set down the heights of High Hrothgar once more, and her steps didn’t seem nearly so heavy. The walk was long, but refreshingly downhill and when she finally arrived at Ivarstead she found she wasn’t even out of breath. It was a delightful bit of nostalgia walking into the Vilemyr Inn and getting a room, just as she had before she’d first been called to High Hrothgar by the Grey Beards. She remembered the town fondly, the barman having tipped her off to the trouble over in the Nord ruin nearby. Indeed, she’d even killed her first draugr over in Shroud Hearth Barrow.
The memories made her smile, and she ordered a bottle of Black-Briar mead. Questionable as Maven was, and admittedly she’d found the woman to be –highly- unpleasant, they damn well knew how to make a good mug. Taking a deep swallow of its sweet and bitter flavors, the Dragonborn let the alcohol roll over her tongue and settle warmly in her belly. Setting the bottle back down after a few more swigs, she slipped the gauntlets off her tired hands and looked appraisingly at the barkeep. If she was to get back into action, this seemed as well a place as any.
“Heard any rumors lately?”
Oh how those fateful words had led her on many a merry chase, but still somehow she still felt a buzzing excitement every time she said them.
The barman’s gentle eyes looked over at her as he wiped the dark wood of the bar in a gesture that seemed more idle than purposeful. “None right now. Not after the dragons have calmed.”
Disappointment was like a cold shroud on her shoulders, “oh.”
There was quiet for a moment, as the Dragonborn grabbed her mead again and started to turn back to look at the fire. Then the barman made a thoughtful noise in his throat, “wait… did hear something from a few Khajiit traders passing through this way. Nine, they came in looking mighty ragged. Typically the guards get a little antsy about their kind wandering about within the town, but they seemed in such a bad way, and we made a good amount of coin restoring their wares. If the lot was to be believed, they got caught in an ambush. Some ex-Stormcloaks turned bandits, near the shrine of Akatosh close to the Atronach stone. From what they said the lot have been praying on mers and beastkin that pass that way, no bounty in it though.”
Of course there wasn’t. The thought made fire ache in her gut. That was one thing that had truly bothered her upon coming into Skyrim was their attitude towards their non-human cousins. She may not have been planning on marrying a Khajiit or an Argonian anytime soon, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t sentient beings deserving of respect.
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timeasmymeasure
F!DB/Human!Alduin, "There Are No Endings" (3a/?)
Date: 2012-09-02 01:09 pm (UTC)The situation made her cheeks color abruptly, and she stumbled to her feet, only to groan as her hand moved back to painfully massage her knotted back.
“Divines, I’m so sorry Paarthurnax. I can’t believe I just went to sleep like that, and sitting up no less. You could have woken me…” she stumbled over her words, flushing a little darker when the dragon canted his head and she almost felt the weight of his amusement. “But, um… thank you anyway.”
“Drem… it was no bother, Dovahkiin. There was a weight upon you, and you needed rest. As well, it was good to have the company of another Dovah. Even dragonblooded as you are, you will find that there can only be so much companionship to be had with those who can never understand your true tongue.”
Unsure of what to say to that the Dragonborn just started brushed herself off, picking up her pack and slinging it over her shoulder again. “Well, it was good visiting again, Paarthurnax. I suppose I had better get going. If you’re right I’ve got plenty more destiny left for me, I’d better not keep it waiting.”
Waving goodbye to the old Dovah, she set down the heights of High Hrothgar once more, and her steps didn’t seem nearly so heavy. The walk was long, but refreshingly downhill and when she finally arrived at Ivarstead she found she wasn’t even out of breath. It was a delightful bit of nostalgia walking into the Vilemyr Inn and getting a room, just as she had before she’d first been called to High Hrothgar by the Grey Beards. She remembered the town fondly, the barman having tipped her off to the trouble over in the Nord ruin nearby. Indeed, she’d even killed her first draugr over in Shroud Hearth Barrow.
The memories made her smile, and she ordered a bottle of Black-Briar mead. Questionable as Maven was, and admittedly she’d found the woman to be –highly- unpleasant, they damn well knew how to make a good mug. Taking a deep swallow of its sweet and bitter flavors, the Dragonborn let the alcohol roll over her tongue and settle warmly in her belly. Setting the bottle back down after a few more swigs, she slipped the gauntlets off her tired hands and looked appraisingly at the barkeep. If she was to get back into action, this seemed as well a place as any.
“Heard any rumors lately?”
Oh how those fateful words had led her on many a merry chase, but still somehow she still felt a buzzing excitement every time she said them.
The barman’s gentle eyes looked over at her as he wiped the dark wood of the bar in a gesture that seemed more idle than purposeful. “None right now. Not after the dragons have calmed.”
Disappointment was like a cold shroud on her shoulders, “oh.”
There was quiet for a moment, as the Dragonborn grabbed her mead again and started to turn back to look at the fire. Then the barman made a thoughtful noise in his throat, “wait… did hear something from a few Khajiit traders passing through this way. Nine, they came in looking mighty ragged. Typically the guards get a little antsy about their kind wandering about within the town, but they seemed in such a bad way, and we made a good amount of coin restoring their wares. If the lot was to be believed, they got caught in an ambush. Some ex-Stormcloaks turned bandits, near the shrine of Akatosh close to the Atronach stone. From what they said the lot have been praying on mers and beastkin that pass that way, no bounty in it though.”
Of course there wasn’t. The thought made fire ache in her gut. That was one thing that had truly bothered her upon coming into Skyrim was their attitude towards their non-human cousins. She may not have been planning on marrying a Khajiit or an Argonian anytime soon, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t sentient beings deserving of respect.