Worry subsumed his anger, as Einarth mulled over her words: “You are everything a Nord should be.” Did she truly believe that? It did not bode well, for one so steadfast, to hold in such high esteem, one so broken. She was well aware of his failings, so what was it about the fallen disciple that compelled her? What did she see in him that made her feel so inadequate? Was it her desire to earn Arngeir’s approval? Or was it something else? The Greybeard trained his gaze upon the man in question. Seeing the hardened warrior standing there, looking like a lost little boy, was strangely nostalgic. It reminded him of the days when the impetuous boy had finally begun to see the merits of meditating on the Words, but struggled to achieve the inner stillness required...
"Master Arngeir, are you just going to..."
A hazy thought suddenly came into focus: The girl may understand longing and loss as well as, if not better, than Arngeir and Ulfric. Was it sympathy that gave her such insight? It was a trait not held in high regard by the Nords, for Skyrim was a harsh, unforgiving land. It has been said that only a Nord was stubborn enough to carve a living out of Skyrim's tough soil, and while such a feat was not beyond the other races, the statement was indicative of the Nordic temperament. Stolid resolve in the face of hardship gave them a sense of community like few other cultures, and there were few other peoples you would want on your side when one must weather a crisis.
But this went beyond cultural identity. The Dragonborn was an outsider, one bound to them by the machinations of the gods, at once apart yet belonging to them… The child could have resented them for it. The people certainly made plenty of demands petty enough, even demeaning enough, to warrant it. But she had chosen to accept it all, going so far as to make excuses for her detractors. Such generosity would have been admirable, if it weren’t so painfully clear how little her own well-being meant to her.
“Tell me, Ulfric. Why do you fight?”
Cold fear took root in the old man’s heart. Was the girl simply looking for something to die for? Was she truly without hope?
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timeasmymeasure
A Hero for Skyrim 15/?
Date: 2014-07-25 05:52 am (UTC)"Master Arngeir, are you just going to..."
A hazy thought suddenly came into focus: The girl may understand longing and loss as well as, if not better, than Arngeir and Ulfric. Was it sympathy that gave her such insight? It was a trait not held in high regard by the Nords, for Skyrim was a harsh, unforgiving land. It has been said that only a Nord was stubborn enough to carve a living out of Skyrim's tough soil, and while such a feat was not beyond the other races, the statement was indicative of the Nordic temperament. Stolid resolve in the face of hardship gave them a sense of community like few other cultures, and there were few other peoples you would want on your side when one must weather a crisis.
But this went beyond cultural identity. The Dragonborn was an outsider, one bound to them by the machinations of the gods, at once apart yet belonging to them… The child could have resented them for it. The people certainly made plenty of demands petty enough, even demeaning enough, to warrant it. But she had chosen to accept it all, going so far as to make excuses for her detractors. Such generosity would have been admirable, if it weren’t so painfully clear how little her own well-being meant to her.
“Tell me, Ulfric. Why do you fight?”
Cold fear took root in the old man’s heart. Was the girl simply looking for something to die for? Was she truly without hope?