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

[dovahfahdon]

[ Delayed by the Greybeards. Alain would be surprised if he didn't already know the men's allegiance. They were truer to Niall than to the Dragonborn, and they would continue to be, as long as the dragon continued to be more peaceful than the man.

Alain was a product of men's devices, and enjoyed fighting as much as the rest. He did not seek out dragons overly much, but hesitated not at all in dispatching them.

Why would the Greybeards not be wary? Alain has had dealings with Delphine, and she has made no secret of her hatred for the leader of their order.

Yet Alain, as always, cares naught for the politics around him. As stated to Niall, his desires are far more simple, and lack the complexities of others.

For a moment, he considers using the thu'um learned first and continuing along without these delays.

But Arngeir returns after only a moment's time, and with a singular phrase of warning, the monk relents the path ahead.

Speak with kindness, the man had offered in advice. As if Alain had done anything but.

He approaches the giant dragon, remaining behind and to the side, and stares at the old men until they leave the courtyard, taking their time. The stare is then turned to the back of an unfathomable dragon, but like before, like always, Alain keeps to silence.

He has said enough, and has gained nothing for his words. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[Skyrim is naught but an empty landscape from the Throat of the World, a blur from Nehnahlmey's vantage. It is a view seen time and again, and still, the dragon never ceases his watching. It has yet to falter as a comfort.

When he feels the presence of one he suddenly fears, the creature does not move from his place. He continues watching until everything else melts away. Until all falls to silence.

It is then he chances a question, one that has been floating in his mind for days.]

Am I your friend?

[dovahfahdon]

[ It is a silent sigh that resounds in Alain's mind, and it is with that, that the Dragonborn moves closer, to stand at Niall's shoulder.

Perhaps he would have placed a hand against flesh if circumstances were different. Perhaps not at all, with their location. ]

Would my friend flee from me when we were discussing my misgivings and fears?

[nehnahlmey]

[A question to answer a question. Alain stands near, and Nehnahlmey finds he is paralyzed.

Yet slipping in unnatural calm.]

...It was not your misgivings and fears that caused me to flee.

[dovahfahdon]

[ It is only this that calls him to look at the dragon, to pierce him through with his unnatural gaze. ]

It remains. Would you call yourself my friend if you fled while I was being honest?

[nehnahlmey]

[A beat of silence overtakes the creature. A beat and nothing more.]

I do not know. I have never known a friend.

[dovahfahdon]

[ A thin eyebrow raises. Alain maintains his neutral ken. ]

And yet you have never hesitated in using that to define you and I.

[nehnahlmey]

[Here, Nehnahlmey would finally face Alain.]

Yes, I called you friend. Fahdon. You are my friend.

But to be called one in return... It is different.

[dovahfahdon]

[ Here. Here, when the dragon turns to look on Alain's visage, this is when his patience breaks. When a rarely seen anger pieces the calm.

He cannot say why that is.

His words escape in a hiss instead of a yell. He wants no attention, even now. ]

I have called you that before, Niall! Only that day, I had, a few times over. If that is your reasoning, it calls as weak.

[nehnahlmey]

[True to his title, the creature watches, looks on as the man bursts out in contained anger.

He speaks not in retort. His words lack the typical arrogance or defensiveness of his kind. If anything, there exists only a point.]

You would desire me, Alain. Tol los kren.

[That is the break. That is the difference.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ Alain would not casually speak in Dovah; he likely never will. But he is near fluent in understanding, from the dragon's mix of languages, and the Greybeards' constant bombardment. He is not closed to either, and has learned at his own pace.

That is the difference, Niall would hold as a point. That Alain admitted one of the things he wants and desires is the dragon. The dragon's presence in his life.

If Alain was more prideful, he would call the fact obvious: Instead, the Dragonborn is silent, in thought.

A moment, then one more. When he speaks, he is quiet. ]

...Dahmaan tol. Nii los ni frul.

[ Remember those words. It is nothing temporary. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[It is his native tongue that carves out the truth, given in careful, precise intonations that even a picky dragon could appreciate.

It is nothing temporary.]

Nii los unslaad. Is this true?

[It is eternal, he would say. Is it permanent, he would think.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ The clarification is enough to make even the unflappable Dragonborn flush mildly. The words spoken are ones that hold more weight then the ones Alain had chosen, and the connotations echo within him.

Saying something is not temporary is granting it higher than a whim or a want. Saying it is eternal is something else altogether. ]

...That is why you left me, Niall? For the threat of eternity?

[ It is not an answer. Not yet. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[Not quite, he thinks. Alain is right, and Alain is wrong. Eternity is a component to the fear, but for reasons that come as simpler.

The dragon blinks.]

For the threat of loss.

[dovahfahdon]

[ There's an anger within him that boils unchecked. There is something hurtful in the dragon's response, and somewhere inside Alain, the man would wonder when the creature gained the ability to hurt him.

He wants to walk away. With everything that he is, he wishes to leave.

That would only prove the dragon right. ]

...I am not the one who left, Niall.

[nehnahlmey]

[Beneath the barely held restraint, the emotion is clearly seen. The meaning, more so, and nothing within Nehnahlmey can dispute it.]

You are right. You are not the one who left.

[Traces of humility touch his voice, something unheard of with dragons.]

Zu'u nivahriin, Alain.

[I am cowardly.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ And with the tones, the admittance, Alain wishes to repeat his acts of a week prior, even with everything. He wanted to stroke the cool skin of his companion, to cause the noise that he heard before.

But there is nothing that wishes such a display in front of others. Who he is sure are still watching and listening, somehow and somewhere, in the sanctuary of their keep. ]

Go home, Niall.

[ A request, softly given, in the form of a command. ]

Meet me in that cave, and we'll continue this there.

[nehnahlmey]

[Here, the dragon cannot read the intent. It is a request for privacy, he knows, but to what end is the mystery he cannot unravel. Alain may want to reprimand him more, for all Nehnahlmey knows.

He wishes the monks had answered his questions.]

...That cave, then.

[He will wait for the man there.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ At the acquiesce, strangely enough, Alain grimaces before turning away. ]

I'll be there in a week's time. Don't succumb to boredom and burn down my house.

[ He still had work to finish on it after all. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[Burn down his house, hm? Now there is an idea...

Alain leaves the courtyard, High Hrothgar, with nothing further, and Nehnahlmey lingers behind to live out the last of his melancholy. As well as address a Greybeard on the broken aspects of the conversation between Dovah and Dovahkiin.

You call him friend, Nehnahlmey.

When the sky rumbles at the Thu'um in High Hrothgar, inconsequential phrases can ring as clear as bells. A curse in the guise of a simple overlooked detail, but Nehnahlmey does not mind. He favors these men who follow Paarthurnax--the elders above all.

Therefore, his answers are not clipped. Sardonic interludes are nowhere to be found. He tells the monk the truth, that Alain, the Dragonborn, is his friend and that Alan calls him the same. Of reacting to loss. The man, in turn, acknowledges the anomaly, the surprise in the nature of their relationship, before vocalizing a thought not yet formed.

Nii los ni nivahriin. It is not cowardly to act in response to a fear, he means. Nii los dur do joorre. It is the curse of mortals. Of mortality.

By the end of their conversation, the dragon procures a kind of understanding and a greater appreciation. He leaves the mountain with a clear head, his disposition calmer than when he first arrived.

It is in his flight that Nehnahlmey spies a familiar head of white hair, a familiar form traversing through a forest on top of an unfamiliar mount.

The dragon lands in a clearing a short distance ahead.]

Alain.

[dovahfahdon]

[ It has been over half a day. And it says something to the Dragonborn's abilities that the trek down High Hrothgar is already completed. He has untied the borrowed beast of burden from its post in Ivarstead, and resigns himself to the long trek home.

It was never the mountain that was the length of time, despite the pilgrims that would proclaim it. Perhaps to the Dragonborn, the mountain holds no obstacle.

Regardless, it is the entire Hold of Whiterun that he needs to cross, and the mountains of Hjalmarch, before he reaches his marshland, and his house quietly along a ridge west of Solitude. This is the week's trek he spoke of, and he is dwelling in the long ride without any distraction of adventure when great wings move air over his head, and the dragon he knows best lands a distance before him, great voice quietly traveling the distance between them.

...The horse, of course, rears, and Alain slips off it fluidly, grabbing at its reins to calm it, pull it down. It is not a warhorse, only a rented pack animal, and not for the first time, he envies those with mounts of their own. He murmurs soothing words to the creature, perhaps longer than necessary. The truth of the matter is that the dragon's presence unnerved him.

He had not expected Niall, and the dragon's voice, speaking his name, causes an apprehension to trail along his form. Without looking from the horse, Alain replies. ]

...Did you want to speak here, instead?

[nehnahlmey]

[Such a frightened creature, that mount. Nehnahlmey would find amusement if not for his own missteps a week prior.

Instead, the dragon continues with his intended business.]

Our agreement was to speak in the cave.

[And they would keep it, for what it's worth.]

But a week's trek proves too wasteful in light of other avenues. I can take you to your marsh.

[dovahfahdon]

[ The apprehension stays, for a reason unknown, even as Alain gives into bravado. ]

In some kind of basket or carriage? That seems beneath you.

[nehnahlmey]

[Whether Alain is playing humor or sarcasm, Nehnahlmey has patience enough to continue. He shakes his head.]

It is reparation. You can ride, can't you?

[An amused sound.]

Then you can ride a Dovah.

[dovahfahdon]

[ And for the first time since Niall had made his intent clear to remain around Alain, the Dragonborn is at a loss for words.

He stares openly, surprise blatant on his expression. ]