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?

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[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. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[The lack of further argument pleases the creature, who lowers his head to allow for easy access. The weight of a mortal proves unnerving, and for a brief instance, Nehnahlmey questions the sensibility of his choice. To allow a human an act abhorrent to much and many.

In the end, he remembers who Alain is. The dragon recalls the entirety of their bond and learns to set misgivings aside.

He takes to the sky cautiously, showing care not to dislodge his passenger. The process requires moments for adjustment, seconds for calculations, before the creature flies toward their destination at a speed slower than what he is used to.

It takes a day to reach Alain's unfinished home. Though the temptation exists to knock the structure down, Nehnahlmey opts for consideration and lands a safe distance away.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ Humans are not prone to flight, dragon-blooded or no. To Alain's knowledge, there is no thu'um that gives the user that ability--Wuld-Nah-Kest, Whirlwind Sprint, is likely the closest he would ever naturally come.

To be atop Niall, as he moves through the air, is something different altogether.

For a moment, when the dragon rises, there is fear, fear where Alain has never felt any before. It has never been that he has feared the dragon, even when he assumed them enemies, but here, in the air, where a long fall would effortlessly end his life, he wonders at the dragon's loyalties.

And when Niall moves towards Hjalmarch without delay, Alain feels shame for the first time in a long while for doubting. His hands seek crevices to slip and hold onto as the wind moves past them, and he restrains the urge to lay his head down against scales to take in the sights instead. To Whiterun, rolling away beneath them. The mountains separating Hjalmarch from the previous hold are a far more unique sight, and where perhaps another might have taken to words, they prove unnecessary with Alain. They would lessen it, he thinks; to mutter awe in the human tongue.

It's the first time he's thought as such, of that separation, and he nearly misses Morthal slipping beneath them. He's still thinking over that concept of distance when Niall circles to land near the ruins a short distance away from his house.

For a moment, Alain remains where he is, comfortable in a way natural and unknown.

Then he remembers himself, and moves to dismount from the dragon before he offends. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[Time passes before the man moves, and the dragon accommodates to allow for easier dismount. Then he stretches, cracking joints and unknotting knots formed during a day's flight, working from claws to head to back to wings. It is here, he realizes, that a passenger makes for physical strain on an otherwise magical exercise.

It is strange. And somehow calls back to a memory.]

You've ridden a dragon. You've fulfilled one of your desires.

[dovahfahdon]

[ --Alain flushes fully at the words chosen.

The man swallows and fights to regain dignity. His leathers are brushed off, pouches are checked, and a certain amulet is tucked back under his tunic. Throughout all of this he fights an odd kind of nervousness, unknown to him previously. ]

You are my friend, Niall.

[ It is spoken without prelude, the answers to the questions asked atop that mountain. ]

And I am yours, for as long as we remain in existence. Ours is a true bond, no matter our race. And you are not a coward.

[ The Dragonborn adds, despite Niall's taste for pacifism. Only here does Alain look up, and he adds further. ]

...You are no fool either.

[nehnahlmey]

[Crimson colors the man's skin as a familiar amulet catches one's attentions, reaction and action sparking as attractive in the dragon's mind. Alain Ebon must be pleased to realize that truth, cared enough about the other to do so, and Nehnahlmey, the Never Living Fool, is content on behalf of another. A strange fact for a dragon, perhaps, but he has always been strange compared to his brethren.

Except the next words reveal his race's lack of experience in affections. He stares outright at Alain, mind breaking at various points. At the affirmation of a true bond of friendship. At the rejection of titles and names.

It is not something Nehnahlmey had expected.]

Ni fah unslaad, Alain, but for the length of our existence. It is--

[Something desired.]

--my want.