She nodded, and they lapsed back into silence. There seemed little else to say. The moons crept across the sky, bringing dawn closer with each minute. The prospect did little to improve Balgruuf’s mood.
“I’ve never been outside toe borders of Cyrodiil,” Irileth said suddenly, once more breaking the heavy silence.
“Truly?” Balgruuf said. Before marching out with the legion he had never left Skyrim, but he was only one and twenty. The Dunmer had much longer lifespans, and Irileth could easily be fifty or more years, and still be counted as in her youth. There was no doubt her experience surpassed his own.
She nodded. “My parents were refugees. By the time I was born, they remembered more of the horrors of their last days in Morrowind than any of the good of their lives there. They discouraged me from travelling far, and as soon as I was old enough I joined the Legion.” She ran a hand through her tangle of scarlet hair. “I wish I had defied them, now. I would have liked to see Morrowind. It’s not as if staying in Imperial City… did them any good.”
Balgruuf stared at her, and then tore his eyes away quickly. She’d never said she had had family in Imperial City. It reminded him all too keenly of how dutiful she was, staying with the Legion as the city burned… “We’ll cross the border into Skyrim any day now,” he said, mustering all his remaining confidence. “My homeland isn’t so strange as the tales I’ve heard of Morrowind, but it has its wonders.”
Irileth scowled. “Drunken nords and meaderies are hardly what I would call wonders…”
“More than that,” Balgruuf said, reaching over to give her a playful shove. “Even my hold has wonders. Giants wander the planes, herding great herds of mammoths. Whn they pass by, the ground shakes with their footsteps.” Irileth’s disbelieving look didn’t stop him. “Dragonsreach, the keep in Whiterun, was built by one of my ancestors to serve as a prison for the dragon he vanquished. That dragon’s skull hangs above the throne now…” He trailed off. He could picture it perfectly- the arched ceiling of the great hall of Dragonreach, the steps leading up to the dais where the throne sat. The long tables laden with delicacies during feasts, and the leering skull hanging over his father’s throne. When he was a child he had dreamed of taming a dragon of his own, and ruling over Whiterun from the back of his fiery steed.
“The skull of a dragon?” Irileth said, her brows quirking upwards. “Perhaps Nords aren’t all talk after all. That sounds like a sight to see.”
“I’ll bring you along to Whiterun, after the war’s done,” Balgruuf said.
Irileth’s expression closed in an instant, all the mirth draining from her features. “Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “It only invites ill luck. Don’t talk of plans until we’ve won.”
Balgruuf was silent for a moment. “We may die,” he said at last. “But if we do survive… well.. you won’t have any place to return to, not until Imperial City is rebuilt. And… and your family is gone. It’s… If we survive… you could come back to Whiterun to me. We always need more Thanes.”
She stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, and then closed it. “I would like to see that dragon skull of yours,” she said after a moment.
“Then the matter is settled,” he said, grinning.
Irileth gave him a small smile in return. “Go steal a few hours’ sleep. It’ll be a long march today.”
He nodded, weariness suddenly seeming to redouble its pull on his muscles. “Good night,” he said, turning to go, before pausing. “Irileth?”
“Yes?”
“Even if I don’t survive, you’d be welcome in Whiterun.”
All Quiet (3/3)
Date: 2014-02-19 07:58 am (UTC)“I’ve never been outside toe borders of Cyrodiil,” Irileth said suddenly, once more breaking the heavy silence.
“Truly?” Balgruuf said. Before marching out with the legion he had never left Skyrim, but he was only one and twenty. The Dunmer had much longer lifespans, and Irileth could easily be fifty or more years, and still be counted as in her youth. There was no doubt her experience surpassed his own.
She nodded. “My parents were refugees. By the time I was born, they remembered more of the horrors of their last days in Morrowind than any of the good of their lives there. They discouraged me from travelling far, and as soon as I was old enough I joined the Legion.” She ran a hand through her tangle of scarlet hair. “I wish I had defied them, now. I would have liked to see Morrowind. It’s not as if staying in Imperial City… did them any good.”
Balgruuf stared at her, and then tore his eyes away quickly. She’d never said she had had family in Imperial City. It reminded him all too keenly of how dutiful she was, staying with the Legion as the city burned… “We’ll cross the border into Skyrim any day now,” he said, mustering all his remaining confidence. “My homeland isn’t so strange as the tales I’ve heard of Morrowind, but it has its wonders.”
Irileth scowled. “Drunken nords and meaderies are hardly what I would call wonders…”
“More than that,” Balgruuf said, reaching over to give her a playful shove. “Even my hold has wonders. Giants wander the planes, herding great herds of mammoths. Whn they pass by, the ground shakes with their footsteps.” Irileth’s disbelieving look didn’t stop him. “Dragonsreach, the keep in Whiterun, was built by one of my ancestors to serve as a prison for the dragon he vanquished. That dragon’s skull hangs above the throne now…” He trailed off. He could picture it perfectly- the arched ceiling of the great hall of Dragonreach, the steps leading up to the dais where the throne sat. The long tables laden with delicacies during feasts, and the leering skull hanging over his father’s throne. When he was a child he had dreamed of taming a dragon of his own, and ruling over Whiterun from the back of his fiery steed.
“The skull of a dragon?” Irileth said, her brows quirking upwards. “Perhaps Nords aren’t all talk after all. That sounds like a sight to see.”
“I’ll bring you along to Whiterun, after the war’s done,” Balgruuf said.
Irileth’s expression closed in an instant, all the mirth draining from her features. “Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “It only invites ill luck. Don’t talk of plans until we’ve won.”
Balgruuf was silent for a moment. “We may die,” he said at last. “But if we do survive… well.. you won’t have any place to return to, not until Imperial City is rebuilt. And… and your family is gone. It’s… If we survive… you could come back to Whiterun to me. We always need more Thanes.”
She stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, and then closed it. “I would like to see that dragon skull of yours,” she said after a moment.
“Then the matter is settled,” he said, grinning.
Irileth gave him a small smile in return. “Go steal a few hours’ sleep. It’ll be a long march today.”
He nodded, weariness suddenly seeming to redouble its pull on his muscles. “Good night,” he said, turning to go, before pausing. “Irileth?”
“Yes?”
“Even if I don’t survive, you’d be welcome in Whiterun.”