After talking to Louis, Francois still had some time to study for his exam in his room in the dormitory-tower.
The subject was the Voice of Talos, a historically significant phenomenon because it was the first time the Dragonborn was capable of giving political meaning to his divinely ordained status.
He had to work through the main textbook, whilst also memorizing parts of the lessons of teacher Hugo Pontierre, who was also a scholar in his free time and therefore put great importance on some tangential elaborations on the themes of the textbook, that just happened to be related to his own research.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
"It's me," a voice said.
"Oh, Antoinette, come in!" Francois responded.
In came a girl in a light-brown robe with dark brown shoulder-pads, with dark brown hair that reached just past her shoulders, and blue eyes.
"Are you studying for the Voice of Talos-exam?" she asked.
"Yeah, I am just going over the first lesson and some of the book again."
"Argh, terrific, I am just losing my mind over that bit about the forts in Colovia."
"Oh that? It's simple. After he conquered West-Cyrodill he didn't have time to take care of the Dark Elves in that area, so he fortified the region."
"Why are you so quick at grasping these things? I really thought it had something to do with suppressing insurgents."
"Well, that was part of it, but he didn't build the forts to do that, because the cities were pretty sympathetic to him and it was just organized farmers that threatened him. So he could organize most of the crackdowns from the cities."
"If you say so. Gee, I am not sure if I can get it all in my head before tomorrow."
"Do your best, I would say. If you understand it, it all becomes a lot easier."
"All right. Are doing anything otherwise today?"
"Me and Madheera are going to the Rain's Hand fair."
"Obviously. I am going in the weekend with Celeste. I hear there is a travelling music troupe that I really would like to see: they play in a style influenced by traditional Dark Elf music and something from their own Black Marsh-sound."
"They're Argonians?"
"I guess so, but maybe they're a mix of vagabonds from various corners of Tamriel, I don't know."
"What about you, did you write any songs recently?"
Antoinette was a amateur songwriter, and had performed on occasion at the school talent show.
She replied shyly: "Ah, you know, just some basic ballads. This month I've written only one."
Francois thought it was a very special gift: he never really knew how to do something like that. He drew doodles, sure, and he could be completely absorbed in designs and the work of great craftsmen, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of melodies with words on them, even though he tried.
This time, he decided to inquire: "How do you do it?"
"What do you mean?" Antoinette answered.
"The songs! How do you write songs!"
"Oh, I don't know." she said. "It's complicated. At some point I just sit down with pen and paper and write down some notes. Then when I finish something that can pass for a couplet or a chorus, I write down some lyrics to the tune."
"Just like that? But how do you get it to sound like a melody, and how do you get the words to go along with the melody and all that? How do you keep it simple yet interesting?"
"Eh, I don't really know. The main thing is to just not interrupt your inspiration: when you know what you have to write, you should write it down, and when you are still thinking about it, you should make sure you keep rolling with the inspiration that the world hands you. It's like: everything has its coherence, and when you start seeing finished elements in your mind then it just works."
That made some sense to Francois: he had a very erratic brain: often, he was working on one thing and was already planning to stop doing and move on to the next things: it was truly is worst habit: just stop whenever it became too aware of what he was doing - indeed, he felt like it was a sign of some kind of morbid self-preoccupation.
"Will that help you?" Antoinette asked.
"A little, perhaps. I don't know: I can't play any instruments."
"Oh, but I could teach you! You'll need a lute, though."
"Can't I just borrow yours?"
"I need mine! But there's a music store in the merchants quarter. Next time you go visit your soldier-buddies, perhaps you can stop by there."
"Maybe I will. A lute's is expensive, though."
"You can rent one, then it is not so bad. Besides, you're rich."
"Compared to you, but my parents want me to use my allowance responsibly."
"It's worth it." Antoinette said, satisfied with her conclusion.
"All right." said Francois, and he looked away for a second.
"Great - thanks for your explanations and time, I am gonna go for one last great exertion." she said, and turned around.
"Bye Antoinette." Francois called after her.
He went back to his desk and took another look at his notes, but as his eyes hovered over the chronology of Tiber Septim's major accomplishments, in his head, he started seeing entities of music aligning and taking shape, like modules, and he started seeing melodies that had some kind of grace to them, and then the words seemed to come automatically:
A day to light the fire
A day for celebration;
Tiber Septim's awesome ire
Is worthy of dedication.
It wasn't perfect, but he could hear a song in his head. "Maybe I can be a bard someday." he thought dreamily.