Wow, thank you so much! This Author!Anon is thrilled you are all enjoying the fill thus far. All those little comments interspersed between the parts were quite a surprise and a pleasure to read. This is one happy A!A.
I shall humbly post part two.
A!A sits down with OP and Driveby!Anon on the picnic blanket. She nibbles at some of the creativity-fuelling goodies. Whilst munching, A!A looks curiously at the bowing OP. She studies the contract with a bemused smile. A!A beckons for OP to sit up again and begins sharing the gifts everyone has brought her with all those gathered around the picnic blanket.
***
Olria’s progress over the next two weeks staggered Farengar. She excelled tremendously at restoration spells. She’d even taken to helping out at the temple, healing wounded soldiers. A few days ago, his apprentice had asked once again to try sending Farengar her healing power. He’d refused. He didn’t think he could stand another blow to his ego were it to fail again.
That night, Farengar’s apprentice returned home near midnight. She retreated to her room as soon as she walked in, pausing only to pick up a spelltome that would teach her how to cast a circle of protection. He thought that maybe she was taking things a bit too far – she didn’t look to him like someone who would be venturing into crypts full of the undead. However, the thought of learning the spell had pleased her, so he’d seen no reason to protest handing over the spelltome.
It was good she’d found the initiative to study by herself again, because Farengar had to resume his research on dragons in earnest. Yesterday night, one of the huge beasts had attacked Riverwood, razing several cottages. Jarl Balgruuf needed to learn more about the dragons, and Farengar was the first person he’d turned too.
Farengar worked late into the night finishing off the letters he would send to all the large holds of Skyrim. He needed to collect whatever tales he could about the dragons. He wanted someone to send him word on the whereabouts of the dragonborn. He would have to compile all the information that filtered back through couriers and try to learn what he could. Knowledge was power, and right now, they knew disappointingly little about the dragons.
It had to be half past three when Farengar heard a loud curse from Olria’s room. He paused in his writing mid-word. The keep was dark but for his orb of glowing light and the torches that burned in the hall. Farengar twisted around and glanced at his apprentice’s doorway, frowning.
A dim light flickered, reaching out from under the doorway. A moment later, Farengar was sure he could smell smoke.
“What is that woman doing at this hour?” he muttered to himself. Standing, he walked to the door and knocked. “Olria?” he called.
There was harsh coughing, muffled by the thick boards. Farengar looked down at his feet. He could see black smoke pooling out from beneath the door. He grabbed the handle. The metal seared into his skin. Farengar drew back with a hiss. “Damn it!” he growled. With a spell, he forced the door open.
A wave of heat knocked into the mage. Billows of thick black smoke rolled out of Olria’s room. The desk was on fire, the wood crackling and spitting. The inside panels of the door glowed red as embers in a fireplace. With a pulse of magic, Farengar dismissed the flames in the room. The heat diminished instantly.
He followed the sound of Olria’s choked coughing. She had collapsed to the floor by her bed. He grabbed her under the arms and dragged her out of the room.
Olria coughed and hacked, pulling clean air into her lungs. Her face and hands were black with soot. As Farengar laid her down on the rug by his desk, three soldiers burst into the workroom. “What’s going on here?” a woman demanded.
“I have taken care of it,” Farengar assured her and the other guards. “It was only a spell gone awry.”
The Nords exchanged uneasy glances. “Fine. But the Jarl will expect you to pay for any damages to his keep,” the guard told him. As one, the three marched away, casting suspicious glances over their shoulders. Farengar knew that, from experience, the soldiers really wanted nothing to do with the court wizard, his apprentices, and their magic.
“The Spring Wind That Blew Through Dragonsreach” F!OC/Farengar Secret-Fire, 2a/?
I shall humbly post part two.
A!A sits down with OP and Driveby!Anon on the picnic blanket. She nibbles at some of the creativity-fuelling goodies. Whilst munching, A!A looks curiously at the bowing OP. She studies the contract with a bemused smile. A!A beckons for OP to sit up again and begins sharing the gifts everyone has brought her with all those gathered around the picnic blanket.
***
Olria’s progress over the next two weeks staggered Farengar. She excelled tremendously at restoration spells. She’d even taken to helping out at the temple, healing wounded soldiers. A few days ago, his apprentice had asked once again to try sending Farengar her healing power. He’d refused. He didn’t think he could stand another blow to his ego were it to fail again.
That night, Farengar’s apprentice returned home near midnight. She retreated to her room as soon as she walked in, pausing only to pick up a spelltome that would teach her how to cast a circle of protection. He thought that maybe she was taking things a bit too far – she didn’t look to him like someone who would be venturing into crypts full of the undead. However, the thought of learning the spell had pleased her, so he’d seen no reason to protest handing over the spelltome.
It was good she’d found the initiative to study by herself again, because Farengar had to resume his research on dragons in earnest. Yesterday night, one of the huge beasts had attacked Riverwood, razing several cottages. Jarl Balgruuf needed to learn more about the dragons, and Farengar was the first person he’d turned too.
Farengar worked late into the night finishing off the letters he would send to all the large holds of Skyrim. He needed to collect whatever tales he could about the dragons. He wanted someone to send him word on the whereabouts of the dragonborn. He would have to compile all the information that filtered back through couriers and try to learn what he could. Knowledge was power, and right now, they knew disappointingly little about the dragons.
It had to be half past three when Farengar heard a loud curse from Olria’s room. He paused in his writing mid-word. The keep was dark but for his orb of glowing light and the torches that burned in the hall. Farengar twisted around and glanced at his apprentice’s doorway, frowning.
A dim light flickered, reaching out from under the doorway. A moment later, Farengar was sure he could smell smoke.
“What is that woman doing at this hour?” he muttered to himself. Standing, he walked to the door and knocked. “Olria?” he called.
There was harsh coughing, muffled by the thick boards. Farengar looked down at his feet. He could see black smoke pooling out from beneath the door. He grabbed the handle. The metal seared into his skin. Farengar drew back with a hiss. “Damn it!” he growled. With a spell, he forced the door open.
A wave of heat knocked into the mage. Billows of thick black smoke rolled out of Olria’s room. The desk was on fire, the wood crackling and spitting. The inside panels of the door glowed red as embers in a fireplace. With a pulse of magic, Farengar dismissed the flames in the room. The heat diminished instantly.
He followed the sound of Olria’s choked coughing. She had collapsed to the floor by her bed. He grabbed her under the arms and dragged her out of the room.
Olria coughed and hacked, pulling clean air into her lungs. Her face and hands were black with soot. As Farengar laid her down on the rug by his desk, three soldiers burst into the workroom. “What’s going on here?” a woman demanded.
“I have taken care of it,” Farengar assured her and the other guards. “It was only a spell gone awry.”
The Nords exchanged uneasy glances. “Fine. But the Jarl will expect you to pay for any damages to his keep,” the guard told him. As one, the three marched away, casting suspicious glances over their shoulders. Farengar knew that, from experience, the soldiers really wanted nothing to do with the court wizard, his apprentices, and their magic.