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BUT OPEN FOR FILLS

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From: (Anonymous)

The tears slowed, but it was hard to say if they had stopped. She made hardly a sound as she wept, and Einarth wondered, not without worry, how the girl had learned how to weep silently.

“Maybe it’s only because I am Dragonborn, but he doesn’t seem to hate me for being an outsider. He had seemed shocked at first, but did not contest my title after a demonstration.” Perhaps there is hope for the boy. Or was she simply an acceptable exception? “Maybe he’ll listen to me. I don’t know if he will, but there has to be some way I can reach him.”

What was it about Ulfric that had compelled Arngeir, and now the Dragonborn?

“You should hear him when he talks about the old legends.”

Einarth’s gaze sharpened. Was it for the sake of building his own legend that the boy persisted in such bloody pursuits?

“No one tells stories the way he does. Especially the old songs when he thinks no one is watching. If I could give those back to him, restore his dreams, then maybe he might be able to see Skyrim again. To really see what it is, and what it has become. He loves the stories too much because he thinks they’re all he has now. He’s not fighting for the future, he’s fighting for what he’s lost. And there’s so much he’s missing because of it.” The Dragonborn wiped her face with her hands before turning to the old master, “He cares in spite of everything that’s happened to him. Skyrim needs people like that. People who can find it in themselves to fight, to love even, especially when they’re past hope. At the very least, he deserves a chance to be the kind of man he wants to be, to be the man he sought to be all those years ago.”

From: (Anonymous)

Passion. They were all full of it. It simply manifested in different ways. They were all so driven by by it, that perhaps he really should have realized much sooner that it was inevitable that they would clash. Arngeir was passionate in his devotion to the Way of the Voice, Ulfric was passionate about following in the footsteps of his heroes, and the Dragonborn was passionate about helping the helpless. The image of a helpless Ulfric flashed across his mind, and Einarth tamped down his amusement immediately; the girl was counting on him to be a font wisdom, and snickering in her face would have been highly inappropriate. Still, the girl was not wrong about the man; he needed help, it was a ailment of the soul that tore at the man, and who better to help him than one who might understand him best?

“I think that, given the chance, and a push in the right direction, he could be exactly what Skyrim needs. It may be enough to make leaving the empire worth it. And to be rid of the Thalmor.”

That was an awful lot of hope to place on a man with such a dismal record…

“I don’t know if I can do enough for that to happen. Or if I’ll even be around to do anything at all. But no matter what, Skyrim needs this to end. This war is unsustainable, and the Thalmor cannot be allowed to do this to Skyrim, or to anyone else. But someone has to do it. Someone willing to risk everything to save her. We need someone who will try and succeed.”

The Dragonborn was herself a hero, and yet looking for one other?

Einarth marvelled at the revelation, but the girl fell silent, and it seemed as though her near-admission had drained her. It wasn’t often the girl talked so much, and it seemed that she was done speaking for the time being. So they stood in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.