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]

[ 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. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[The reactions come as obvious. Nehnahlmey laughs openly.]

Your silence is telling.

[dovahfahdon]

Ne--

[ For a moment, solitary and endless, Alain almost says the dragon's given name.

It causes him to blink repeatedly, and when he speaks, it is quieter than usual. ]

...You needn't do that.

[ Go to those lengths, to make amends. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[The laughter ends unceremoniously, with the dragon watching the man and his mount as a cat would mice. That, he finds, is an unusual development.

For one to hear the beginning of one's own name from another who had sworn it off.]

Indeed. My offer still stands.

[It is not as if Nehnahlmey minds. It is, after all, his choice.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ Slowly, as if trapped in a corner, Alain releases the horse's reins. It flings up its head, and noticing its freedom, begins to run in the distance of Whiterun. Horses would always return to their stables, and there are other truths Alain has yet to learn.

His movements are hesitant, but of shyness and unsurity, rather than distrust. It is something new shown.

He slips to the dragon's side and looks upward, seeking answers unknown in eight symmetrical eyes. ]

...Is it not strange? You are no beast of burden.

[ You're a friend, a companion, Alain would have said, but things regarding that word had taken an unwanted complicated turn. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[At the man's uncertainty, the dragon pays no mind. It is a detail to slip into the background for another time; he would rather take to the sky now than analyze the response.

Eight eyes follow the Dragonborn's movements with unnatural precision.]

Do beasts of burden extend such proposals?

[No, mortals ride them without their consent. The meaning is straightforward. Nehnahlmey is allowing it for this one occurrence. That is all.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ He cannot take it from his own mind: That this is strange, and provokes an intimacy Alain is not sure is held between them. But the worth of contesting further is null. There is no point in arguing such a thing without a valid point to offer.

He nods once, acquiescing, and when Niall lowers his head, Alain finds holds among the spikes and ridges along the dragon's shoulder, and pulls himself up without allowing himself any hesitation.

It is only when he is situated at the base of the dragon's long neck, before the fine bones of his wings that Alain exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. ]