This is a story that I thought up of yesterday and wanted to write down. Also the next chapter of my story, New Vegas Effect, is almost done.

"Agaroo?"

Pavel Avellan flinched in surprise at the riekling's questioning word. Or at least he assumed it was a question that the creature had asked. He wasn't really sure.

"Umm… yeah I'm good. I think. Just relaxing." Replied the Breton dragonborn to the small, blue skinned humanoid creature.

The riekling tilted its head, as if in concern or confusion, before nodding, "Faatho. Boo cha." Then, turning away, the riekling walked off to another of its kin.

Pavel sighed, something that was becoming sort of a habit, and leaned back against the throne of the Thirsk Mead Hall. These sighs were not a result of physical exhaustion as it was one of mental exhaustion. So many responsibilities, so many tasks, contacts, titles, expectations… he felt overwhelmed almost to the point where he thought he was going to exploded. The civil war, Alduin, the dragons, these vampire attacks, Hermaus Mora, Miraak, Raven Rock, being the listener, several Jarls asking for his aid, and so much more. How did he get involved in all of this? Why him? How could one person deal with all of this and not go insane. Maybe he was. After all, he had read two of those black books of Hermaus Mora and had gone through several odd events that boggled the mind.

And now, on top of all that, he was now the chieftain of a tribe of rieklings whom he could not understand, neither their language nor their way of life. He had unexpectedly found himself the chief of this tribe after killing the original riekling leader in combat, a fight he didn't want to happen. He hadn't wanted to be chief and yet, here he was. Just another thing to add to the mountain of things that weighed him down and exhausted him physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Sighing, Ravel shook his head. It wasn't being the leader of the tribe that bothered him as much. The rieklings pretty much ran everything by themselves. It was mainly the language barrier that got to him. It was such a trivial thing and yet it still affected him. He had been surprised to find a rieking that could speak in the mortal tongue and had expected the original chief to act as translator for him. However, said chief was dead and he had no easy way to communicate with his tribe's kin. It was odd really, they could understand him, but he couldn't understand them. He had a few ideas about what some words probably meant.

Whenever he met a riekling, they always answered with either 'boo cha' or 'Belifaka', which he thought was something similar to 'hello' or greetings'. 'Agaroo' was another, which he only guessed, was substitute for something along the lines of 'you ok'. Of course, he was only guessing and he could be completely wrong, which was very likely. There were many other words that confused him. Awafalagahaka, Muwafathoo, Boooleekasa, Eerelaya, Falaraga, Kalafoo. There were more words and he doubted he would ever learn the riekling language. It was already difficult enough to learn to read, write, and speak in the dragon language that he couldn't be bothered to take the time to learn another.

Closing his eyes, Pavel could hear a group of rieklings talking amongst each other.

"Brelfik?" Asked one.

"Faa tho." Said a second.

"Boo cha. Kalafoo!" Exclaimed a third.

"Woocha!" Shouted a forth, raising his spear in the air excitedly.

"Meelaaak." Agreed the second, nodding.

"Bagaru!" Said the first, almost jumping in joy.

Pavel gave a weak smile. Even if he couldn't understand these creatures, they were interesting to watch, almost comical. He just wished he could understand them. Sighing once more, Pavel sunk lower in the throne as he remembered that he had to go back to Skyrim and meet General Tullius. He didn't want to go, but had to. He had responsibilities to the Empire.

A hand on his right knee caused him to flinch and, opening his eyes, he saw a riekling looking at him, "Maa tho cha. Agaroo."

Pavel gave a slight frown, "You know I don't understand your language. Not your fault though."

The riekling stood there unmoving, looking like it was trying to figure something out.

"Is something wrong?" Questioned Pavel.

The riekling remained silent for a few more moments before it replied, to Pavel's surprise, in common, "You… chief… good… tribe." Pavel stared in shock as the riekling continued, "Tribe… fol… low… you."

Pavel suddenly realized something; "You're the riekling that met me when I first arrived here in Thirsk!"

The riekling nodded and trotted off to chat with the group that Pavel had listened to earlier. Pavel suddenly felt a sense of relief come over him, a small one, but still something that felt good. The rieklings might be strange and unusual, but they were loyal to him and would aid him in any quest. He didn't need to understand their language to be the chief. He didn't need to understand their language to converse with them. They understood and followed, and that was what mattered. And if he had difficulty understanding what one of them was saying, all he needed was that other riekling who had a basic grasp of the mortal language. He had enough things to worry about, without worrying about ones that didn't need worrying about.