hearthfire for dummies, a closed production

[nehnahlmey]

[In his mind, a project devoted to building one's dwelling is a project best left to rot in Sovngarde, but Alain had thought otherwise. Before Nehnahlmey could raise a word in complaint, Alain took to his task with no intention of stopping, resulting in a week's span of time where the dragon found himself with nothing to do. As opposed to directing his energies in more constructive pursuits, he holed himself in a cave beside a cliffside, counted the number of goats he could have torn apart until ultimately deciding a nap was more entertaining.

Until a concentration of energy seeps into his consciousness. Until he opens a single eye to regard the source near the entrance. Until he catches a glimpse of white hair.

His answer is brief.]

Finished already?

Comments

[purification]

[ You would think that Alan Kane would be getting used to the discrepancies between the stated reality and the perceived one, especially with the manner of creature that he is. However one must consider:

He has appeared on the side of a sheer mountainside, looking into a cave, where a dragon laired, his snout as big as Alan himself.

One who speaks to him.

Alan considers dreams, but reality is seldom the least jarring in his experience.

He peers behind himself, gauging the long fall through wind, air, and snow. ]

...My life? I'd like to hope there's a bit more for me yet.

[nehnahlmey]

[The response is atypical despite the familiarity, and the creature wastes no time shoving his snout at the man to catch his scent, to consider his identity.

It sparks before the first inhale: Dovahkiin hin kos ni.

Dragonborn he is not.]

[purification]

[ It's not nearly every day that an eight-eyed (eight eyes? Really?) dragon is coming at him, and Alan would like to think that it's a testament of his own fortitude that he doesn't scream or soil himself. Would like to, but he still steps back with a jolt, snow and pebbles sliding under his foot (if he knew he was to go mountain climbing he would have worn hiking boots...), and for a moment, close and far all the same, he experiences a vertigo that he knows would lead to his own death.

Abomination or not. And then, they would--

Be separated. And he cannot have that. His arms wheel out and latch onto a ridge on the dragon's head for safety, outcome not wholly considered, when he--

Blinks. And feels solid ground again under his feet. He stares at the dragon, wondering what it is that he just felt. Something not locked in logic or sense, but.... ]

...Nigel?

[nehnahlmey]

[A clever mortal, this one. That he would choose the dragon over the cliffside as a safer option when many would and had fallen in with the latter. Or perhaps he had merely reacted and hadn't chosen at all. The man may yield an hour of amusement--an aspect a bored Nehnahlmey finds attractive.

Except his mind sparks a second time, of a truth he never remembers holding. Of a name that is not his and yet rings familiarity all the same.

Of a dear existence found a second time.

All eight eyes blink at the man, before the creature slowly retracts his head, giving the man more ground to stand upon.]

...You've yet to call me by my given name, mortal.

[purification]

[ The movement given is almost gentle; pulling backward in increments until both the dragon's head and Alan are within the safety of the large cave neck. Once movement ceases, Alan loosens his hands from their holding, staring as the dragon speaks again.

As it... he... speaks of things as if there is familiarity. As if Alan is right in his nonsense. ]

I'd like to learn it.

[ He says honestly, without thinking. He inhales in sharp thought, then continues. ]

I'm here, then, too. Am I a... A dragon as well?

[nehnahlmey]

[There is a stark contrast when comparing the known to the one before him. For instance, this one actually wishes to learn the name. The dragon makes a noise not unlike a scoff.]

So you've finally gained the patience for it? Very well. Zu'u Nehnahlmey. I am the one who watches.

[A typical title, a compliment and an insult in a single breath. Perhaps he should have settled for the simple and given the bastardized version in human tongue.

If not for the man speaking again, Nehnahlmey might have. Instead, he gives a look bordering amusement.]

Dovah? No. You are a mortal man born with Dovah Sos. Dragonblood. We call you Dovahkiin. Dragonborn.

[purification]

[ The one who watches. It is indeed a title to fit Nigel, if but only in spirit. Alan doesn't blame his other self for changing the dragon's name: It's a mouthful, to say the least. Still, he attempts-- ]

...Zu...uu... Nehnahlmey. What does it mean?

[ It's a question he wouldn't think to ask humans. But to a dragon, Alan wonders. Wonders what the incomprehensible name means.

Much like the rest of what the dragon says. The continuous translation, therefore, is welcome. Alan swallows at the slew of information and leans toward light sarcasm as a defensive. ]

Funny. I think I would have noticed if I was part dragon.

[nehnahlmey]

[...The effort is what counts, the dragon reminds himself. Mortals are not as proficient in the language as they sometimes wish to believe and require a degree of encouragement to reach an adequate level.]

Zu'u. I am. Nehnahlmey. Never Living Fool.

[The name and the associated meaning are said with pride. It is a symbol of status, of power, to be named.]

You must also have a name.

[To share souls with that other man. Or minds, in this case. They tend to concentrate on the same inane things.]

Few Dragonborn know what they are until they've consumed a dragon's soul, but I can assure you, mortal, that you-- [This you.] --are not capable of such a feat.

[purification]

[ If Alan was with the man, he would state how fitting that name seemed to be. But Alan is not, and for some reason, he wonders if the dragon would be offended if he speaks the like. He is curious for another reason, and he-- ]

...Alan. I'm Alan. What does... What do I usually call you?

[ The name that was always used instead, something not Nigel. As with the entirety of this place. None of it calls to sense, not the least of which-- ]

...You stay with someone who consumes your own kind? [ He should be surprised, but the emotion doesn't come. ] But even here, I wouldn't hurt you, would I? And you...

[ The dragon, ancient and knowledgeable, even as a watchful fool. For a dragon to prioritize a man, a hunter born of his kind to kill his kind, and remain after committing what would seem to be the seemingly greatest of sacrileges.... ]

You must love me, then.

[nehnahlmey]

Alan.

[He tries the name with a tone echoing Alan's own. Alain's counterpart. A minor adjustment would match this name to that name, this soul to that soul.]

You call me Niall, the unfortunate byproduct of your single earnest attempt.

[It was a name befitting a pet, a horse, or some pitiful creature. Of course, Nehnahlmey has never approved of it, even as he adopted it as part of his own. For reasons the man claims to know.]

Love? You would attribute a human aspect to a dragon?

[Attribute love to the loveless. He has read enough mortal books to know the concept; however, it has yet to step outside the conceptual realm.

If he was not in a cave, the dragon might sway his tail in contemplation.]

We are a race that consumes. We have lived and died numerous times over. Dinok-- Death does not phase me. [However.] But you have proven to be a rare sort. The one moment in life I have truly been nahlaas. Alive.

[The one he would hate to lose.]

[purification]

[ Niall. One syllable and little else, but it suits this dragon with Nigel's soul. Alan smiles without realizing. ]

...Niall suits you, I think.

[ And separates him from that name. That name that, Alan realizes with a certainty, his other self would seek to separate from the dragon's existence. He will never say Nehnahlmey, that self. Not while that meaning is attached to the word. It is a kind of affection all the same.

As is the dragon's.

Never living, was the translation, and Alan thinks he understands. ]

...That is love, Niall. Life of a kind that warms even the most stagnant of souls.

[ It's because he's in the presence of a dragon, Alan will defend: Of why he's falling to poetics. ]

I was the same.

[nehnahlmey]

[The man would use the name as fluidly as his counterpart. The dragon reacts with a huff.]

You and Alain. Your views are vanmindoraan. Incomprehensible. Tell me: do you also believe Nigel suits my other self?

[It rings as ridiculous for a dragon--as ridiculous as a child of Akatosh finding love. But something of this man's statements warrants further inquiry.]

And where did you find your love, Alan, Ni Dovahkiin? Who gave you life?

[Because if it's not his other self, the dragon is going to set things on fire.]

[purification]

[ Alain. The Dovahkiin of this world, and the Alan Kane where there never was one. The name is one sound off, a long "a" instead of his short, and he wonders what else differentiates.

Perhaps he should wonder if anything is the same. ]

...Nigel is Nigel. He has another name, but I--

[ I don't use it. The same in principle, if not in premise. He shrugs loosely, admitting it in all but words. That sameness.

But Alan has rarely held names as truth, yet perhaps in this world, with this dragon, it is different. However, the second line of query is far easier and less complicated. Alan moves closer, then slowly reaches a hand out and places it against the soft end of the dragon's snout. (Cool. The skin is cool.) A moment, then he pets softly there. ]

...Of course, in you. In your existence.

[dovahfahdon]

[ For the one known as the Dragonborn, house building, perhaps would be seen as mild. There are other reasons to build a place of refuge, but none of those are Alain's own. He moves too much to seek out peace and security, far preferring campfires under stars and the chill of caves at night. Alain enjoys movement, and a house would only seek to tie down one who would despise the very thing by its own definition.

So why is Alain Ebon building a house?

There are many reasons. A thane needs a place to claim, and with Morthal's lack of houses, the Jarl offered land in Northern Hjaalmarch instead. Alain needed a place to leave weapons and amulets he had yet to enchant, as well as items of mystery until he solved the reason of their purpose. Perhaps that Niall had been annoying him of late, and there was nothing more upsetting to the dragon than being ignored for a meaningless purpose.

Yes, all these, but--

But strangely, it was his mother that Alain thought of when he put hammer to wood. His mother, who would likely faint dead away at the sight of her honored son worked as a commoner, who would likely berate him in tears the moment she revived. His mother, who Alain has not seen for some time now, and he wonders, somewhere, how long it has actually been.

He has not fulfilled his role of honor in a house of slaves. Instead he is living for himself, building a house and keeping the company of a dragon, while maintaining a prophecy's fulfillment despite himself.

Dragonborn, the Jarl of Whiterun called him. Dovahkiin, has been heard from Niall and Alduin's breaths.

And she would be disappointed, his mother, even if Alain ended up saving them all.

The hammer is laid to the ground, and he wipes sweat from above his eyes. His vision rests on a low mountain, and a dark opening into which Niall is likely hiding. It takes little: Putting on his leathers and tying a small bag of magicka potions to his belt, Niall's amulet tucked back into his tunic, and within moments, the Dragonborn is nearing the opening, a hand on the rock face as he moves into the dark.

Silence is what he offers. He calls out to none, even the one existence he would claim as friend.

Finished already?

There is something of relief, deep inside him, at that voice. There is nothing given away as he continues inward, murmurs lightly. ]

Not quite.

[nehnahlmey]

[The Dragonborn would answer him, for once. An ill-favored response, of course, but a response all the same. The one open eye of Nehnahlmey blinks for a minute longer, before the others set to stare.

...Another day, the creature might have nudged the man in sad affection. Today he is playing at apathy.]

Then why cease your futile task to visit me?

[dovahfahdon]

[ The Dragonborn does not stop until he's at the dragon's form, and then he turns to sit against the dragon, an overt familiarity, but one Alain does not think twice at. He had wished to be in the dragon's presence. So he would be. It existed as the only simple thing.

He reclines his head back against scales. ]

Futile, is it? When I have warmth to keep me while you remain on the mountains, it won't be such a thankless task.

[nehnahlmey]

[The man would slip beside the dragon to rest against, a familiar gesture. The latter feels his resolve falling away, and if not for pride (kah se Dov, even), he would crumble to a pathetic pile of docility.

But he is still playing at apathy and closes his eyes.]

The almighty Dragonborn chooses the warmth of a cage over the cold, open sky. How abhorrent.

[He allows a moment to pass.]

You have yet to answer my question.

[dovahfahdon]

How abhorrent.

[ An agreement, even so, the repeat falls flat. Alain is not his usual self. ]

Almighty, am I? One would be hard-pressed to find another to echo your claims. Why have I sought you out, oh, dragon of the watchful eye?

[ He tilts his head up to seek the dragon's gaze. ]

Because I have no other, my friend.

[nehnahlmey]

[Perhaps scores of mortals and immortals alike would deny the title. In turn, they would deny the truth. The tone given is solemn, a rare instance of humility for a creature built upon pride.]

You sit on top of the bones of my brethren. Power speaks through your destruction, and for Dov, power is truth.

[The thought is enough for Nehnahlmey to relent, to open his eyes long enough to meet the man's. To remain silent in contemplation.

Finally:]

Your only choice, am I? Truly, you must have followers enough to fill your nonexistent hall.

[dovahfahdon]

[ His mouth thins; there is something of discomfort in his expression. That, and frustration, locked away. ]

Power not mine learned through discipline, but granted through nothing of my own accord. Would you still call that true power, Niall, when I have never sacrificed to gain it?

[ Alain has committed countless sacrifices, to be certain. But for that ability, that lineage, that power? None so willingly. ]

...I don't want followers, empty-headed and full of the sounds of others.

[ He only wants one, to complement him in ways he has yet to know. ]

[nehnahlmey]

Do not be so hasty as to declare such things. There is always a sacrifice, Dovahkiin.

[Willing or unwilling, taken or given, there exists a loss for a gain, a gain for a loss.]

Then what is your criteria?

[What is it that Alain truly wants?]

[dovahfahdon]

[ The dragon is wise, Alain will never attest this, and he ponders the words before replying. ]

...Is it in haste? My life must be a moment's span to you. I have thought on these things for months, Sundas to Loredas every week, from when Alduin's arrogance saved me in Frostfall of the year prior unto now. I don't speak from emotion, watchful one, but from contemplation. What of value has been taken for me to receive such an unwanted gift?

[ It is more than Alain usually says in one sitting, and one than he's ever said on the subject. It is said with quiet contemplation and calm, and yet, to one observing, perhaps an edge of sorrow could be seen dulling the words.

Is it because of that, that Alain is not watchful of his words? ]

Perhaps I seek one to call as close as blood.

[ Family. Of the like that Alain, despite his extended bloodline, has yet to see. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[Nehnahlmey understands, somewhat. Mortality is far from him, but the dragon can see the place where Alain's mind lies. This is enough for him to carefully form his response, to make a strange attempt at comfort. For Nehnahlmey, the one who watches, can see the softness in those words. The sadness contained therein.

Is it this that keeps him from finding what is sought? One to call as close as blood.]

You are unhappy. You've yet to find purpose in being the Dragonborn.

[But in the same breath, the dragon cannot dismiss the insinuation. That the gift Akatosh bestowed upon dragons and chosen humans could be seen as "unwanted". That Alain's life is but a moment.

It is upsetting.

The dragon falls to silence.]

[dovahfahdon]

Purpose.

[ He muses to the dragon's silence. And yet voices a truth he has yet to say. ]

...Perhaps it is only that I wish to seek my own path. Not one whose stones have been placed by another.

[nehnahlmey]

[This annoys him for reasons unnamed, for reasons not as clear to mortal logic.]

The dragons carve their own destiny, named after we've shown the truth of our being.

[Not like these mortals, who name at birth.]

Dovahkiin is the same. You do not have to follow the cast of another's light.

[So why feel burdened by a nonexistent weight?]