Disclaimer; I don't own Skyrim or the Elder Scrolls, and I am making no profit from these works. These stories were inspired by Morninglight's Ysraneth's Tales series.
Chapter 2:
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Jeand's recollections were ceased, both by the phantom pain the memory brought forth, as well as the first hints of dawn were starting to appear upon the horizon.
Is that how long I was dwelling on the past…? the ageless Reachman thought to himself, stretching as he did so to work the stiffness out of his joints.
As he watch the sun rise, and feel the subsequent sting the infernal orb brought to his blood, Jeand pondered on Viarmo's words from the night before. Maybe he should add his story to the Edda, he could write, heck even perform, it himself…
After all, I maybe ageless, but I'm not immortal… Serana showed me that… My end may come, and none would know, really know, the story of the Last Dragonborn…
Below him, the preparations for the King Olaf festival were in full swing, as decorations were being hung, occasion appropriate food and beverages were filling vendor's stalls, and the greater effigy of King Olaf One-Eye was being constructed. Whilst the festival itself was still a few days away, preparations had to be made early due to the amount of work required. Watching it all, with amber eyes, Jeand spotted some children at play, and remembered the joy and anticipation his own little adopted angels had whenever he'd recount his travels to them…
Has it really been so long since they passed away…?
Shaking his head, Jeand headed back to the College so as to prepare for classes.
/Scene Break/
"AAAARRRGGGHHH! It's no use!" Viarmo cried out as he rested his head within his hands.
The Verse of King Olaf was complete, that was fine for the aged elf. Instead the problem was Jeand. Over the years the people of Solitude had been bugging the Headmaster about when the Immortal Dragonborn (many believed his youth was due to his dragon soul, a myth helped spread by the man himself) was going to tell his story to the people of Solitude. Viarmo kept saying one thing or another to either shift the topic, placate the masses, or to drop the matter all together, yet recently the Jarl had ordered Viarmo to get Jeand to tell his tale at this year's festival, or else the Bard's College would no longer be allowed to remain open.
Viarmo's trouble with the Verse had held his focus all night, and now with that done, he had put his tired mind to the task of figuring out a way of convincing Jeand to tell his story sometime in the next couple of days, but any idea Viarmo came up with he knew wouldn't work. One such idea was saying that the College was at risk, yet Jeand would most likely say that if Solitude didn't want the Bard's College, then one of the other Holds would happily accept them. The rest just followed the same pattern after that…
Deciding to turn in, and tackle the problem after some decent rest, Viarmo got to the door just as Jeand was coming in from his night atop Castle Dour. Paying no head to his fellow professor, Viarmo tried to pass him by without a word, yet was stopped when Jeand said, "During the festival, I'll add my story to the Edda…"
/Scene Break/
…to be continued in 'A Bard's Pilgrimage; Journeying with Faendal'…