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chromes-writings · 4 years ago

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Tey De Keizaal - Tales of Skyrim

Chapter Two: Bonaar

Words: 2,156

(Note: WHOOOO it's been two years since the last chapter. That's a long time, and I apologize. However, I'm going to do my utmost to make sure that I start to be more active on this account. So, here's chapter two!)

Nighttime was always the coldest in Skyrim. The cold wind always seemed to nip the faces of people a little harder once the stars came out and the moons graced the sky with their presence. It wasn’t uncommon for those finding sanctuary from the weather to find it within the comforting walls of inns and taverns. Nothing warmed the body and soul more than a cup of good ale, a belly full of food, and a delightful conversation between good friends and neighbors. Travelers from many reaches of Tamriel enjoyed the refuge of a cozy bed for a decent price. A microcosm of warmth and relaxation in an otherwise harsh world.

Einar found himself within this place of refuge when he walked up to the door of The Bannered Mare. He had been walking for a few hours along the dirt and stone roads of his homeland, clashing with the wildlife once or twice along his trek. His newfound companion had been keeping their distance in the skies in order to avoid panic from the common folk. Now that night had fallen, Einar could feel fatigue washing over his body and the impatience of wanting to sit near a fire. As he walked up the stairs, the wooden planks creaked beneath his weight. He opened the door to the inn, tapping his feet against the floor to knock off any extra snow that was stuck to his boots. The warm air instantly felt like a remedy to his body aches.

“Well, look who it is! Haven’t seen you in a while, Einar,” Hulda, the innkeeper, said.

Einar smiled, sitting down at the bar. “My apologies for not coming around often.”

“So where’ve you been? Your face hasn’t graced Whiterun for some weeks.”

“Anywhere that calls me. There’s always something keeping me busy, I’m afraid.”

Hulda let out a curt laugh. “That doesn’t mean you can’t come back around and relax for a while. If it weren’t for Lydia going into your house from time to time, most people would think the place is abandoned. That and the little girl Lucia has been staying there during the nights as well.”

“That’s good,” Einar said with a warm smile. “I told her she could stay there instead of sleeping outside. Last thing a child needs is to sleep on the cold ground.”

“I swear, if it weren’t for you, I would start thinking no good people exist.”

“Just doing what I think is right.”

In a part of the inn, a boisterous voice was heard above most of the commotion.

“That’s right! I’m seen as one of the best fighters of Cyrodiil. But it’s hard finding decent competition when no one stands up to your prowess. So that’s why I decided to come here!”

Einar looked behind him to see where the source of the voice was coming from. Among a group of people was a young Imperial man. He looked to be in his early twenties, with short black hair pushed out of his face and dark brown eyes. He was adorned with plate armor, the color of warm gold. Makes sense, Einar thought to himself. A large greatsword rested on his side in a sturdy leather sheath. Despite his armor and weapon, he looked smaller than Einar in size, though this was covered up through his loud voice and large movements. Einar had seen people like him before — young men and women who thought they had the whole world in their hands, wandering from place to place, acting like everyone was a mere challenge to show their superiority. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness for them. He knew that that was a life that would lead to pain and loneliness.

He must have been staring at him for a while since the young man noticed his gaze.

“Sounds like you��re interested in my stories of success, good sir!” the young man said while walking towards Einar.

Einar shrugged his shoulders. “Only somewhat. I would warn you, though. Some people around here would take your boasting as a challenge for a fight.”

The young man laughed. “I hope so! I always enjoy adding another win under my belt.”

“Best watch yourself, lad,” Hulda said. “You’re talking to someone who has a lot more experience than you, and has fought things more frightening than you have.”

The young man looked at Einar for some seconds, a curious expression on his face as he examined the older Nord. Then he let out an arrogant chuckle. “I’m sure the most challenging thing this man has dealt with are his aching bones in the morning. Unless he would like to prove otherwise?”

The tavern fell eerily quiet, the sound of music fading out as the patrons turned their attention towards the two men at the bar. Einar’s face has turned to a scowl while the young man had a smug look on him. A silent standoff had started. Einar wasn’t one to pick fights and he didn’t plan on picking one tonight, especially against this Imperial… child. That was the best way to describe him — a young, cocky child. The Nord examined the tavern, seeing all of the eyes that were glued on the pair. He then glanced back at the young man. He wasn’t one to pick fights, but he felt like he could make an exception just this once.

“Alright. Step outside,” he said.

Excitement flooded the tavern as Einar stood up from his chair, walking towards the door with the young Imperial following him. The cold air blew in as soon as the door opened, stinging Einar’s face. Luckily for them, Whiterun was quiet this time of night so no one had the chance to interrupt their scrimmage. Everyone from the tavern gathered around Einar and the young man as they stood across from one another. There was a tense but exhilarating feeling in the air. The chance to see even a small fight from the Dragonborn himself was a sight not commonly seen. Chatter could be heard all around the two men as they sized each other up. The young man pulled his greatsword out from the sheath on his hip. Admittedly, it was an impressive piece of weaponry. The Imperial clearly cared about it, as it was well-kept, shining under the starlight and city torches. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he took his stance, grounding himself.

“Well, old man? Are you going to draw your weapon?” he asked Einar.

“Don’t need to,” Einar replied.

Jeers and a chorus of oohs rose from the crowd.

“Ha! Suit yourself. At least you’re able to admit to an early defeat,” the young man said.

The young man ran at Einar, holding his blade up above his head, then swinging it down with ferocity. Einar quickly stepped out of the way, avoiding the strike as the tip of the blade scrapped the stone road. Keeping his eyes on his opponent, the young man followed through on his swing, turning with the momentum. Einar noticed the attack and managed to roll backwards out of the way. A small tuft of fur from his coat floated gently towards the ground. A clean cut was seen along the bottom of the strands. Too close for comfort.

“Not bad, old man!” The young man yelled.

He swung upwards then towards the left, Einar dodging these attacks carefully. His moves were a tad predictable, but Einar could tell the lad was experienced in sword fighting. He swung his sword with no hesitation. He was confident in his attacks. A valuable mindset, but one that might betray him if he wasn’t careful. Confidence can lead to mistakes. The graceful yet deadly dance had evolved between both opponents. The young man rhythmically swung his sword, the metal singing among the air resistance and strikes against the cobblestone. Einar avoided the blade with care timing, his footwork nigh on perfection. Both men moved in tandem with one another, their movements seamlessly blending together. Yet even the most skilled dancers can make a misstep, a mistake in their footing.

A mistake the young man had finally made.

The dark-haired lad turned and swung his sword towards Einar who had dodged the blow yet again, his greatsword hitting the ground with a loud clang. The fuller of his blade faced upwards towards the sky. There it was, Einar thought. He lifted his foot and brought it down onto the blade with great strength. The downward force against the sword caused the young man to be pulled along with his weapon, catching him off guard, grip still tight on his hilt. When the young man looked up, Einar delivered a hefty punch to his face. Letting go of his sword, he stumbled backwards and onto the ground. Blood started to leak from his nose, his blade still under Einar’s foot. Cheers and crys of victory rang out from the crowd. They had clearly decided who the winner was. The Nord bent down, picking up the sword. He walked over to the young man, crouched down and offered his weapon back to him. The young man had a pained look on his face due to the strike to his face and possibly his ego. He looked at Einar for a few seconds before reaching for his weapon.

“...Thanks,” he said quietly.

The crowd of tavern patrons slowly made their way back to The Bannered Mare, talking amongst themselves about the fight. Hulda walked over to Einar.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else! How about a tankard of ale, on the house?” she asked Einar.

“No thank you, Hulda. I’m going to retire for the night, but I appreciate the offer,” he said.

Einar turned and walked back to his home, the young man still on the ground processing what had just happened. As he entered his home, the Dragonborn could feel the young man’s eyes on the back of his head.

A couple of hours had passed. Einar was sitting next to the fireplace, reading a book from his large collection. Suddenly, a knock on the door caught his attention. Putting his book down, he got up and opened the door. In front of him was the young man from before, the bridge of his nose purple and bruised. He had a stern, if determined, look on his face.

“Good evening, lad,” Einar said. “Everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” he said. He inhaled deeply before continuing. “I wanted to ask… I wanted to ask if I could be your traveling companion.”

Einar raised an eyebrow. “Traveling companion?” He stepped aside to let the young man inside from the cold.

The young man walked in, shutting the door behind him. “Yes. That’s right.”

“What brought about this, if I may ask?”

“After our fight, I realized that I clearly underestimated you. Even after I… insulted you.” The young man looked at the ground. “I mean, I’ve fought plenty of people. Some of them did what you had done, not using their weapon. They were being cocky… much like myself. But you actually followed through! And thoroughly bested me, something I’m still having some difficulty coming to terms with. While I was nursing my wound at the tavern and talking to the owner, I realized that I would be passing up an opportunity to learn from you. So, if you would let me, I would like to travel with you, to learn how to better my skills as a warrior from you. Only if you would let me, though.”

Einar stared at the young man. A feeling of admiration filled his chest. It’s not often he had met people who were willing to set their ego aside and wished to better themselves. In a way, he couldn’t help but to be reminded of his younger self — someone who had looked at the world with the determination to take on all of its dangers, who soon felt humility in his later years. Minutes of silence had passed. The young man shifted anxiously, awaiting an answer.

“Alright,” Einar said, breaking the silence. “I don’t see anything wrong with a helping hand.”

A smile swelled on the young man’s face. “Thanks, ol— I mean, thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Truly.”

Einar smiled. “What’s your name, lad?”

“Marius. And you’re Einar, correct?”

Einar nodded. “Now, unless you’ve rented a room at the Mare, you’ll have to sleep down here in one on the chairs. Both of the rooms upstairs are currently being used.”

“Luckily, I do have a room rented out.”

“Good. Come by here in the morning, and we’ll head out towards Falkreath.”

“Sounds great! Well, I’ll see you in a few hours.” Marius turned to leave, but stopped. “Is there anything I should know before we leave?”

Einar sat down in his chair, picking his book up. “Hope you don’t mind the company of a dragon.”

“Alright… wait, what?”

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chromes-writings · 7 years ago

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Tey De Keizaal - Tales of Skyrim

Chapter One: Od

Words: 2,874

(Note: Welcome to the first chapter! This one ended up being pretty damn long, but I decided to keep it as such because I thought a longer chapter would be better than a really short one, so yeah! Also, there is going to be some Dovahzuul, or Dragon Language, in this chapter and possibly throughout the fanfic. I will put translation notes at the end of the chapter in case anyone wants to know what it says. So, yeah. Hope you enjoy!)

Fifth of Sun’s Height, Fourth Era, 202

The snow fell from the sky in a gentle manner, each snowflake hitting the flora and fauna with grace and fragility. The sun overhead was covered by the clouds, which gave the environment a gray overtone. Cold air nipped at the coniferous trees, the elks’ noses, and Einar’s face beneath his hood lined with fur. He heard each of his footsteps disturb the tranquil snow under his feet. The crunching noises broke the forest’s silence around him. Foxes and deer occasionally rustled the shrubbery that dotted the forest, adding neutral colors to the blank canvas of snow. Wintery breezes would shift the trees’ branches, and Einar could feel the fur on his clothes move along with the winds. It was moments like these Einar would quietly enjoy, the vast land of Skyrim surrounding him with serenity, even if it was only for a moment.

Whiterun was still a few hours away, but Einar did not mind the walk. He was, however, fatigued. His muscles ached with every step and his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. As much as he enjoyed the scenery, his body was screaming at him to stop for a few minutes and rest against a tree. The more he walked, the louder those pleas became. After about thirty minutes, he started to weigh his options in his mind. On the one hand, he would reach Whiterun by nightfall if he kept his pacing as it was. There was also a chance he would avoid any unwanted encounters with the feral wildlife that prowled the icy forest around him. Einar preferred not to catch Bone Break Fever from another bear. On the other hand, taking a quick break would be beneficial to his aching legs and empty stomach. It was only then that he realized his stomach was growling under his fading blue cloths. Einar sat on these thoughts for fifteen more minutes of walking until he decided – he needed to rest, if only for a quick second. Slowly walking over to the nearest tree, Einar’s feet shuffled in the snow as he turned himself around and leaned against the rough bark with a heavy thud. Sensations of relief rippled throughout his legs as he let out a comforting sigh. Even if a bear were to run out right now, he would thank himself later for this moment. The Nord felt the cold air around him ease his weary muscles and tired eyes. The forest was quiet, not a sound around him save for his breathing. Whiterun could wait a while. He could arrive at midnight.

As quickly as he laid himself upon the tree, a large noise came from behind. It was a mixture of crashing trees and bushes cracking under pressure. Einar shot up from his resting position and turned around with no hesitation, his hand instinctively going towards Dawnbreaker glowing at his side. He knew no mere bear or saber cat could make that much noise, so he expected the worst. Indeed, the worst was in front of him and Einar could feel his empty stomach start to sink. A massive bronze dragon stood in front of him, yellow eyes piercing into him. The faint sunlight reflected off its red tinted scales. Its large wings supported its long, slender body along the fallen snow. Small cuts and abrasions could be seen along its head and sides. Einar could feel its warm breath slowly leave its nostrils and into the space between them. He braced himself as he waited for the dragon’s next movement. The air was tense and suffocating. Einar’s thoughts ran rapidly through his brain. Who was going to attack first? Which direction would he run if the dragon lunged at him with its teeth? What if it was a snap from its tail? So many questions he was trying to answer within seconds as he kept eye contact with the ancient beast before him, gripping his sword’s hilt tightly.

A minute passed. Then two. Then five. Neither Einar nor the dragon made any movements, only staring at each other without breaking their gaze once. He was confused. Dragons often attacked without prejudice, so why was this one doing nothing? This situation felt different from the others before. Einar began to wonder what to do. He had the advantage of attacking first, but the dragon was not provoking him. He could try to walk away, but there was a chance it would chase him. He could shout at the dragon with his Thu’um, but the dragon may take offense to that. Did it know what he was? Maybe it did or maybe it did not. He felt the tension in his body as he kept asking question after question in his head. While he was concentrating on what to do next, the dragon suddenly moved its wing forward and took a step. Einar unsheathed his sword a couple inches from its holster and braced a foot behind him. He saw his breath hit the cold air with more frequency as he was ready to defend himself. But once again, the dragon did nothing more, only stared. Einar was getting frustrated. He did not feel like being stuck in the forest, in the middle of a standoff with a creature thousands of years older than him. If it was not going to attack him, then maybe it was more docile than its brethren. There was one way to find out, Einar thought to himself. Slowly, he began to loosen the grip on his sword and place it further back in its sheath. His body released its tension and unbraced itself. He reached up and pulled his hood down, revealing his fiery red hair to the falling snow. It was risky, but maybe he could approach it. Talk to it, even. Despite knowing many shouts by heart, to say Einar’s Dovahzul was rusty would have been an understatement. What was the phrase Paarthurnax would say to him? He tried to remember with urgency, just in case this dragon decided to bite him while his hand was away from his weapon. Then, the phrase hit him. Keeping eye contact with the dragon, he slowly began to speak.

“Drem Yol Lok,” Einar said in a low tone.

The dragon perked its head up and replied with a powerful voice. “Drem Yol Lok.”

He said the right greeting, thank the Nine. Now, Einar had to keep communicating with it and pray it did not go for his head.

“My name is Einar,” he said. “What is your name?”

The dragon gave him what he assumed was a puzzled look, tilting its head to the side. Now the language barrier was more evident between them. Einar tried again.

“Einar,” he repeated slowly while gesturing to himself. “And you? Ahrk hi?” Simple words were not incredibly helpful, but they were better than constant repetition.

It blinked at him twice. The dragon understood his elementary words and spoke again. “Zu’u Odvahlok.”

Alright, Einar thought, progress was being made. His name was Odvahlok. At least they were on a first name basis. Since they introduced each other, what would happen now?

Odvahlok lifted himself up slightly. “Mu fent tinvaak voth nonvul.”

It was Einar’s turn to be confused; his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what the dragon had said. He moved his gaze to the ground, dark gray-blue eyes shifting as he was going through the few words he knew. He recognized the word “tinvaak”. What was it in Tamrielic again? Word? Talk? Speak. “Tinvaak” meant “speak”. Einar’s eyes lit up a bit as he remembered one word. Now, he needed to figure out the rest.

Just seconds after he made progress with translating Odvahlok’s words, the beast spoke again, this time in Einar’s native tongue. “Greet. Talk, as dov do.”

The Nord’s eyebrows rose a little. Odvahlok wanted them to greet each other by shouting, like Paarthurnax did when Einar met him. He straightened his back and prepared for Odvahlok’s words. However, a question popped into his head.

“How do you know if I’m able to ‘speak’ to you?”

“Dovahkiin, you are not?”

Einar paused for a moment. “Yes, I am.”

Odvahlok raised his head. “Then we will greet.”

The dragon began to rear his head back, preparing to use his Thu’um towards Einar. Einar braced himself as he waited for the words to roar out the dragon’s mouth. Small hints of fear began to form in his gut. He knew this was a formality, nothing more. Nonetheless, there was still a lingering thought in his mind that this might be a ruse, and the beast ten times his size was taking advantage of his vulnerable state. He would not run, though. He would take this chance, even if it meant putting himself in harm’s way. He never got far in his life as he did without a few risks here and there. Einar slightly dug his feet in the ground, the sound of snow shifting under his boots. He kept his focus on Odvahlok, observing every movement as the dragon prepared to exchange words.

Suddenly, Odvahlok lunged his head forward and unleashed a Shout that shook the trees and the earth beneath them. “Yol Toor Shul!”

Einar watched as fire launched from the dragon’s maw and engulf him in an intense light. Warmth surrounded him as hues of red, orange and yellow created a screen of color over his sight. His hair and clothes flowed with the fire’s force. The fire did not create pain, instead creating warmness equal to the summers of Cyrodiil. He braced his feet further into the ground, clenched his teeth and dig his fingernails into his palms. As soon as the inferno began, it disappeared into the atmosphere and left heated air around him. Anxiety left his body as he let out a heavy exhale. His shoulders slouched forward and his fists loosened, leaving red crescents along his palms. Deep breaths filled his lungs as his breath became somewhat labored. His mind started to wander. However, he started to regain his composure and make his way back to reality. These flames would not hurt him. Not like before. He returned his gaze back to Odvahlok, whom he noticed was waiting patiently for his reply. The yellow reptilian eyes looked at him with curiosity. Einar noticed the dragon saw the anxiousness washed over his face. A low, rumbling voice came from the dragon.

“Faas kosil hi. Fear,” Odvahlok said.

Einar straightened himself back up, frowning a little bit. “No... I feel no fear.”

“Lo nuz zu’u mendoraan. Continue, then.”

Einar narrowed his eyes. Though he did not Odvahlok’s native language, he felt like his older brethren was pointing out the deception in his words. The only thing he could do now was return his own power to the other. He closed his eyes as he focused on the words in his mind. A great heat swelled within him while he briefly meditated. Fire. Inferno. Sun. The air entering his lungs began to burn. He could feel the fire growing within him. It was a wildfire only he could tame. It was destruction only he could control. He opened his eyes with great ferocity, the sullen blue exchanged for a glowing orange. Einar allowed the words to leave his being and into the open.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

A great flame almost equal to the size of Odvahlok’s fire left his mouth and onto the dragon. Like before, the fire did not burn him, nor did it burn Odvahlok. Instead, the older being seemed to revel in the flames as he allowed the bright fire to engulf his head. Einar noticed he was relaxed, content with the results of Einar’s Shout. At least, he was hoping that was content on his face. It was hard to tell what a dragon was thinking by its face alone. Through the radiant flames he saw Odvahlok had not recoiled at all. This dragon was much braver than he was. He allowed the fire to flow for a few seconds more before it dissipated. His mouth and chest felt hot. The orange in his eyes reverted back to their deep blue. Heated air continued to leave his body for a couple of moments. Einar began to relax as he felt his power wane. He saw the trail of evaporated snow between him and Odvahlok, steam rising from ground. The dragon’s scales gave off what looked like smoke in wispy tendrils. His piercing eyes opened and refocused themselves onto Einar, who could not help but flinch as golden intensity looked right through him. The world was quiet a brief minute before Odvahlok gave off a sound of satisfaction, and he began to speak once more.

“Ah, Dovahkiin. Sahrot suleyk bo ko hi. I am pleased.” He gently laid his head on the ground while keeping eye contact with Einar.

Einar walked towards him. “Well, now that we have formalities out of the way… I must ask a question.”

“Hi ofan pogaan lanne, but carry on.”

“Okay,” Einar said, not understanding the foreign words. “Why haven’t you attacked me? You’re not like the others.”

“Ni paar nos. I come as a potential fahdon, not enemy.”

“Fahdon? A friend?”

Odvahlok nodded.

“For what reason?” Einar asked.

“Hi piraak sahrot mul, Dovahkiin. Allies few and far between, including amongst our own.”

“I have to agree. It would be nice to have more allies, especially one like you. Though I must let you know now, there are a few other dov who are also allies of mine.”

“Pogaan fahdonne pruzaan.”

This encounter was very strange. But he’s been through much stranger situations. “Very well. I will accept your offer.”

“Kogaan, Dovahkiin.”

Well, that was that, Einar guessed. He noticed the sun was lower in the sky than before, still covered by a sheet of clouds. If him and his new companion left now, he could make it to Whiterun after midnight. He started to turn around and continue on his, dragon in tow, before he stopped midturn and spoke to Odvahlok. “I have one more question.”

“Fent tinvaak,” Odvahlok said.

“…What is the real reason that you wish to be my ally?”

The dragon did not speak for a couple of minutes. “Mun. By myself. Do you understand?”

Unfortunately, Einar did understand. Despite having many acquaintances throughout Skyrim, he was alone for most of his travels. There were a few companions here or there, but most of them stayed at their abodes while Einar went on by himself. Many miles he had walked with no one by his side. The only person he could talk to was the wind, who relayed his words to nobody. The closest thing to a companion by his side were the fleeing foxes and rabbits who scurried away to their homes. The people looking over him as he traversed back and forth across his homeland were the stars that cut through the planes of Oblivion. Einar understood loneliness. It was the one friend he had. Except for now.

“I understand. However, you’re not alone anymore, and you won’t be for a long time. I promise.”

“You have my gratitude, Dovahkiin.”

Einar let out a quick sigh. “Well, we should head forward. Daylight won’t be around for much longer.”

“Where to?”

“Whiterun, a city that lies a few hours from here. Do you know it? It has a large castle that overlooks the walls.”

“Aal mindok. I may know when I see it. Do you wish to fly there?”

“No, I believe we can travel on foot. Though it might be best for you to stick to the skies, lest you want to create a giant path of broken trees behind you.”

Odvahlok looked around him, saw the destroyed foliage around him, and looked back at Einar. “Hi los vahzah. I will watch from above.”

Einar watched as Odvahlok began to push himself off the ground with his massive wings, creating forceful winds that rushed past Einar. Within seconds, Odvahlok was in the air and soared throughout the sky. It was honestly a terrifying sight to Einar, as a dragon in the sky normally meant an upcoming battle. His terror was soon replaced with reassurance as he reminded himself the beast was a friend, not a foe. Odvahlok flew nearby and failed to make a single noise that echoed through the sky. He would have been a formidable enemy if they battled. He was a silent hunter. Einar never would have been able to notice his presence until he hit the earth and gained the first attack. It was a blessing from the Nine that he was a new ally and not trying to rip his head off. But Einar knew he needed to be on his way to Whiterun now. The snow had started to let up and the sun continued to move towards the horizon. The sooner he got there, the sooner he would be behind fortified walls instead of the open wilderness filled with nightly terrors. His worries had mostly subsided now, knowing there was a friend watching him from above.

Einar just had to figure out where Odvahlok would stay once they got there.

Translation Notes:

“Drem Yol Lok” - “Peace Fire Sky” (Dovah greeting)

“Ahrk hi?” - “And you?”

“Zu’u” - “I am”

“Mu fent tinvaak voth nonvul.” - “We shall speak with honor.”

“Yol Toor Shul” - “Fire Inferno Sun” (Fire Shout)

“Faas kosil hi.” - “Fear within you.”

“Lo nuz zu’u mendoraan.” - “Lie but I understand.”

“Sahrot suleyk bo ko hi.” - “Great power flows inside you.”

“Hi ofan pogaan lanne.” - “You give many questions.”

“Ni paar nos.” - “No desire to attack.”

“Fahdon” - “Friend”

“Hi piraak sahrot mul.” - “You possess great strength.”

“Pogaan fahdonne pruzaan.” - “Many allies (are) better.”

“Kogaan” - “Thank you”

“Fent tinvaak.” - “(You) may speak.”

“Mun” - “Individual”

“Aal mindok.” - “May know.”

“Hi los vahzah.” - “You are right.”

#chrome's writings #skyrim #fanfic #tey de keizaal #aaaahhhh this chapter took forever to write

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