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Farengar and Fusmulgar
When Fusmulgar got off duty after speaking to Dovahkiin, she flew to the Hofkahsejun, what the vodov called Dragonsreach. She circled, then landed on the Great Porch in a thunder of wings. She closed them neatly, with a snap, then gape-grinned at the nervous-looking guard. "Drem yol lok, mun. Zu'u Fusmulgar."
When she saw his confusion, she sighed and translated. "Greetings, man. I am Fusmulgar. I understand you have a scholar of dragons here? A man called Farengar?"
"Uh ... greetings, Fusmulgar. Sigurd Snow-Hair, at your service. Yes, that would be the Court Wizard, and I think I hear him coming up the stairs now."
Moments later, Farengar rushed through the open doors from the strategy room, and practically skidded to a halt. "You're not Odahviing!"
Fusmulgar snorted a laugh. "Nid. Zu'u Fusmulgar. Hi Farengar?"
"Geh, but my Dovazul is strictly from books, so could you please use mostly Common?"
"I will try. Please forgive me if I lapse into my native tongue occasionally. I speak Common, of course, but have not used it much. The last time I was alive, joor learned Dovahzul to speak to us."
Farengar chuckled. "Ah. Consider yourself forgiven in advance, then. Did I hear you ask for me?"
"You did. Dovahkiin says you wish to learn more about dov - dragonkind - and I think that a wise idea, since we are supposed to cooperate. I am willing to assist you, if you will tell me what you are trying to learn."
"Anything I can," Farengar replied. "To put it bluntly, we have almost no reliable records of dragons. The last known repository of dragon lore was lost when the Thalmor - a faction of Altmer and Bosmer - destroyed the archives at Cloud Ruler Temple."
He paused, and sighed. "Dovahkiin - we usually call her Ysmir, in Skyrim - gave me samples of dragonbone and scales from some dragons she killed. And she gave me a sample of her blood, but that only told me that Khajiit blood and blood from a Khajiit Dragonborn are physically identical. Which tends to bolster the argument that the dragon blood Akatosh gave St. Alessia was spiritual rather than physical in nature."
Fusmulgar snorted, loudly. "There was an argument about that? You need to collect some real dragon blood, and test it on an animal you care nothing for. Dov and vodov blood are totally incompatible."
Farengar wasn't sure he'd just heard that. "You would permit it? When I tried to take a sample from Odahviing, he was ... less than pleased."
"Did you ask? If not, of course he would react badly, as would I."
"Er ... I'm afraid not. He was talking with Dovahkiin, and I decided to take what looked like a perfect opportunity."
"That was ... less than intelligent. Would you do such with a mammoth, or an unrestrained sabrecat?
"Of course not!" Farengar exclaimed. "I'm not stupid!"
Then he hesitated. "Oh. Maybe I was. But I see what you mean."
"I see you do." Fusmulgar laughed again. "Dovahkiin said you were obsessive, but I had not expected such a degree of it, as to ignore danger. So bring a container, its lid, and the sharpest dagger you can find, and I will give you the sample you wish."
Farengar headed for his laboratory to get what she'd told him, but the Jarl interrupted. "A moment, Farengar, please."
Farengar sighed, but obeyed. "Yes, my Jarl?"
"You have another dragon in my palace?"
"Uh ... one is here, my Jarl, but not by my doing. It is here on its own."
A voice came from the stairway. "I am not an it. I am a she. Referring to an intelligent being as an object is, with rare exceptions, vomindoraan ... insulting. I will assume you did not mean it that way, but please do not do it again."
Farengar turned. "No insult intended, Fusmulgar, and I apologize. I will not repeat my error."
"Prozah. I regret the interruption." There was the rustle of leathery wings being rearranged, then silence from upstairs.
Balgruuf chuckled. "I think we've both been reprimanded by one with the right to do so, though - " and he winked - "your guest really should not be eavesdropping."
"Eavesdropping? When I can hear a bear breathing from five thousand feet in the air?" There was a snorted laugh from above. "But I will try to not-listen. Krosis."
"She's very polite," Balgruuf said. "So was Odahviing, when we had him here. And Dovahkiin, who either doesn't realize her position as Stormcrown, or doesn't want to push her status. I wonder if courtesy is simply a characteristic of dragons."
"I'll ask her if you like, my Jarl. She seems ... most cooperative, even offering me a blood sample. And she confirmed that the dragonblood of the Alessian line was spiritual, rather than physical. She even told me how to verify that claim."
"I find that rather surprising, but I won't ... ah, look a gift dragon in the mouth. You may inform her that she is welcome here, as my guest, any time she cares to visit."
Fusmulgar heard and appreciated that, but she'd promised to try to not-hear, impossible as that was. Not responding was quite possible, however, so she simply didn't.
When Farengar rejoined his guest, he was carrying the knife, and a collection of containers, which made Fusmulgar chuckle. "So you wish more samples than just the blood, I gather."
"If you would be so kind," Farengar replied. "Blood, saliva, urine, a stool sample ... "
That got a loud snort, then what he was already learning to recognize as an amused expression. "I cannot fault your courage, wizard, and I will provide all those samples ... but blood and saliva only, here. Is your knife sharp enough to shave with?"
He nodded, then proved it by pushing back a sleeve and shaving a small patch of his arm. "Satisfactory?"
"Quite," Fusmulgar assured him, raising a wing. "Try under there ... the skin is softer than most other places."
"Thank you." Farengar did as he was instructed, filling a container and sealing it, then watching the small wound heal. He collected a saliva sample as well, smiling at the dovah. "You're quite attractive, I must say, now that I know dovah are friendly."
"Only those sworn to Dovahkiin, remember," she cautioned him. "But you are perfectly safe with those of us who are." She took a moment to preen. "And I thank you for the compliment. I had almost forgotten what it is like to be admired, rather than feared."
"If it isn't considered rude, may I ask how old you are?"
"Rude to ask a dovahin's age? Not at all. I was created not long after Lokmoroyol, the first female dovah, so ... five or six thousand of the current years? Time was rather fluid in those days, so it is impossible to be exact."
"I understand. But ... created? Not born, or hatched?"
"Oh, most of us are created. The privilege of actually hatching or siring offspring is rare, and must be earned by something unusually pleasing to Bormah Akatosh. Hatchlings only replace created ones killed by another dovah, since those killed by joor ... vodov ... can be resurrected by our thur."
Farengar caught his breath. Less than an hour with this awesome being, and he'd learned more about dragons than had been known since the end of the Dragon War!
"I ... will you visit again? There is so much to learn! Can you really hear a bear breathing from five thousand feet?"
Fusmulgar shook her head. "Our hearing is far better than yours, but not that good; I fear I was a bit offended at being accused of eavesdropping. Krosis." She paused briefly. "And you need not sound so desperate," she added calmly, pleased by his enthusiasm. "I must still provide those excrement samples, well away from vodov habitations. And it is pleasant to hold tinvaak with you. A favor of my own, if I may?"
"What would that be? Certainly, if I can."
"Teyye - tales." Fusmulgar sighed. "Vodov are much better at such than dov ... we are too literal-minded. We do have some, but vodov seem to create them with no effort. It has been a long time since I heard a new tey."
Farengar almost choked. "Tales? You want tales? Great blessed Divines, if I mention that to the Bards College up in Solitude, you'll be overwhelmed!"
"Then get on my neck, and we go!"
Farengar clutched at neck scales when she launched herself off the Great Porch's balcony and began flapping her wings, and they rose above the city. He'd been warned about the up-and-down motion of dragonflight, but was too fascinated by flight itself and the ground speeding by below them to pay any attention to possible discomfort.
All too soon, she landed outside the Solitude main gates, and he reluctantly dismounted, then looked up at her. "Thank you - that was wonderful!"
"I am glad you liked it." Fusmulgar tilted her head. "You need not cling so tightly to my scales, unless it makes you feel better. When we allow riders, we do not permit them to fall, whatever maneuvers we may make. Even were I to fly upside-down, you would remain on my neck."
"Really! How fascinating!" And reassuring, Farengar thought but didn't say. "Though I think I need to get some leather trews before we return ... these fabric ones I usually wear under my robes seem to be a bit inadequate protection from dragon scales, and there are more interesting things to do on dragon-neck than cast mage armor spells! So I'll see what the Radiant Raiment has on my way up to the College."
"Take your time. Odahviing says at least the younglings come out to speak to any of us who visit cities, and often some of the adults."
"All right. Have fun while I'm gone."
After a drink at the Winking Skeever and a stop at Radiant Raiment, Farengar went up to the Bards College. Inside, he asked for Viarmo, and was sent to the library, where he found his friend reading. "Good morning, Viarmo," he said softly. "Interested in a new audience, and maybe new source material?"
Viarmo nodded eagerly, but kept his voice just as quiet. "Yes! What do you have?"
"A dovah who wants teyye, tales, and is, she thinks, over four thousand years old. She's aiding me in my research, so she may be willing to tell you dovah history."
"WHAT?" That was just to much for Viarmo's restraint, and he yelled, then forced himself to quiet back down. "A dragon? Wants entertainment?"
Farengar chuckled softly. "So she says, and I have no reason to disbelieve her."
Viarmo rose to his feet, grabbing a lute, and headed out of the library, then called for the Dean of History. "Giraud! Grab a notebook and some charcoal sticks, and come with me!"
When Giraud Gemane joined them, carrying the requested items and looking puzzled, Viarmo turned to Farengar. "Take us to her!"
Farengar chuckled. "Certainly - follow me." He led the way back to the main gate and outside, where Fusmulgar was the center of a crowd. She saw them, and gape-grinned. "You bring me bards so quickly, fahdoni?"
Farengar chuckled. "Geh. Allow me to introduce Headmaster Viarmo and Dean of History Giraud Gemane of the Bards College." He turned to them. "Gentles, may I introduce Fusmulgar, a Legendary dovah?"
Both bowed to her, and Viarmo smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Fusmulgar. Farengar says you wish ... uh ... teyye?"
She ducked her head, the closest she could get to a return bow, then nodded. "Our civilization is based on language, if that is not still known, with dovahhe gone so long. So yes, teyye ... excuse me, I must try to speak Common. Tales, songs, and conversation are very important to us. We have very little new of our own, but mortals are renowned for imagination - you must have created many new things in the time we were dead."
"Oh, we have," Viarmo assured her. "And it would be nice to have an audience for whom even our oldest songs and stories would be new. And perhaps you have ones old to you that would be new to us."
"Ah, if I may?" Giraud interrupted.
"Yes, Dean of History?" Fusmulgar said.
"We have an ancient song we were only recently able to translate, but can't be sure of the pronunciation and have no idea of the tune. It starts, "Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin - "
"Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!" Fusmulgar finished the line. "Ah yes, the Joor Fantasy one they claimed came from an Elder Scroll. We know it well, but thought that with Alduin-thur's power, it would never come to pass. Now Dovahkiin-thur has fulfilled that prophecy."
"Um. Is it offensive to you?"
"Now, after the fact? No, though under Alduin's thurship, singing it meant a death sentence." She shrugged. "Not that his decree stopped many. I have sung it myself, in private, because it speaks - nid, spoke - a hopeless dream and has a nice tune."
Both bards looked at her hopefully. "Would you mind?" Giraud asked.
"Mmm. Perhaps." Fusmulgar looked dubious. "Pitching a dovah singing voice to joor tones is difficult ... your throats need not withstand fire, frost, and lightning. Nor do your songs have such effects. But at one time, joorre said I did not do badly in their registers. Still, we were feared then, so if my attempt is unpleasant, stop me."
"Certainly!" Viarmo assured her.
"Very well." Fusmulgar settled herself, then rose to her haunches and looked down at Viarmo. "Play me a scale, please."
He did, and she began to sing. In human tones, it was somewhere between bass and baritone, the highest she could manage without her voice breaking, but the joor didn't seem to mind, and she was pleased she could still keep the notes clear.
The last two lines nearly broke her control, but she kept on.
"Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok, fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz!
"Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot, Dovahkiin kos fin saviik do muz!"
She settled back to all fours, listening to applause and cheers from all around her. That was surprising; at best, she'd gotten mild applause earlier. She looked at the pair of Bards. "Well? Did I earn us new tales and songs?"
"Indeed you did," Viarmo assured her. "I do believe dovah and Bards will be working together for many years to come."
"That would be enjoyable. May I tell the rest? Some may wish to visit, or you may wish to send a researcher or two to Fellglow Keep, the current Skyguard headquarters."
"That would be wonderful!" Viarmo exclaimed. "Certainly, dovah will be welcome, and I have a few journeymen who have that fort on their routes. I'm sure they'll stop there again, with the Skyguard there instead of necromancers."
"This is good. At the moment, though, I have promised Master Farengar some samples, and that is a promise I must deliver on away from populated areas."
"Of course. Thank you for the song."
Fusmulgar crouched so Farengar could mount. As he did so, she said, "I would strongly suggest you cast powerful frost spells on these samples. There is a reason we excrete far from where we perch."
