fljodri / GNUS NAD HROSSE

[ELANOR .]

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[atrb=border,0,true] KENT WITH FJOLDIR 744 LOL, TOO LAZY TO FIND A DRESS guns and horses - ellie goulding Ugh, terrible starter is terrible.

[atrb=border,0,true] the death of a dragon was certainly something to commemorate. so when jarl balgruuf had deemed it necessary to hold a feast in honor of the men who had slain the beast, titania couldn't help but look forward to it. not only was it an opportunity to congratulate and honor the brave men who had managed to kill it, but it was something to keep whiterun's mind off the dark times ahead. the return of dragons was dark tidings, and on top of the current civil war, titania was aware that there were to be dark times ahead. but she pushed those thoughts from her mind as soon as she arose that morning to help with the preparations. as rosalind wouldn't need to be dressed until later that evening, titania found herself in the kitchens, helping with the food where she could, though she was certainly not the best chef whiterun boasted. but dragonsreach's chef seemed grateful for the extra pair of hands on top of his usual kitchen hands, and miraculously, by the time the afternoon rolled around, all the food was prepared, and looking exquisite. by the time she was finished, titania had flour on her face, and probably in her hair too, but nothing could ruin the elation she felt. there hadn't been a great feast in dragonsreach for some time. drawing a warm bath, titania had washed herself, taking care to get rid of the smell of food from her skin and the flour from her hair. it didn't take long until she was satisfactorily clean, and once she was dried, she dressed in a simple blue wool shift. a leather belt cinched her waist, and after doing her hair and pressing a small amount on perfume on either of her wrists, titania was ready for the night ahead. but her job wasn't finished yet. her lady still needed dressing, and so titania darted up to her room, eager to see what beautiful garment the lady rosalind would be wearing that eve. the sight didn't disappoint, and as per usual, it didn't take long for titania to make the nordic beauty look like perfection. titania was endlessly proud of the work she did on rosalind's hair on such occasions, but the truth was, it didn't actually take much to make the countess look incredibly beautiful. most of it was down to her natural good looks. by the time the feast was beginning, titania was delegated to pour wine for the head table, at which sat the jarl, his wife and his court. the brave dragon slayers sat at the next table down, and the other invited guests were seated on the tables further down. as the men were introduced, titania eyed them carefully, taking care not to spill the wine in her distraction. she didn't recognize many of them, having usually only seen them with their helms on, but one or two she believed worked in dragonsreach. titania hadn't believed that they'd be able to fit everyone in the hall, but when everyone sat down to eat, there was plenty of room for everybody. titania herself didn't have much time to eat between pouring glasses of wine, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. she was just glad to be a part of the whole occasion. after the meal was eaten, however, came titania's favorite part. as expected, rosalind dismissed her as the jarl and his wife left to talk with their guests, leaving titania to do as she wished until the dancing began. titania quickly made her way to one of the lower tables, wanting to talk to a few of the townsfolk. since coming with rosalind to whiterun, titania had made a few firm friends among whiterun's populace, and she absolutely adored catching up with them each in turn. in such merry surroundings, it was hard to share bad news, and very quickly titania found herself laughing along at their jokes and stories. it was hard to imagine she had come to whiterun believing she would be unable to befriend anyone, but it was true. titania had come to adore whiterun and its people in almost no time at all. there were times she wished she lived down in the town just to truly be one of them, but duty kept her at rosalind's side. listening to the townspeople's tales was probably as close as she was ever going to get to being truly one of them.

EVERY FIRE IS A LESSON LEARNED

[Fjoldir .]

in life and death we deal

amidst the blood and steel

TAG: Tits! Words: 1114

ONE LAST THING: Wow this was rambly, but...a tiny bit of it was good, muse-filled rambling?

While Fjoldir undoubtedly appreciated the Jarl’s throwing a feast to celebrate the slaying of a dragon, he couldn’t claim to understand why guards simply performing their duties should have such a fuss made over them. Anyone witnessing the fight as it happened wouldn’t have found anything particularly impressive about their efforts against the dragon, anyway. The few swings of Fjoldir’s hammer that had connected with the dragon had probably damaged his own hands far more than they’d damaged the thick scales that served the dragon as well as skin made of stone. Even as Fjoldir dressed in what he’d dubbed his “good clothes” - what the guardsmen wore for fancier occasions, to go with the “average clothes” that consisted of their armor and the “bad clothes” that was mostly what they wore off-duty att the barracks – he would occasionally have to stop yanking on his sleeves or his belt to convince his hands to cease throbbing every time he moved the fingers of each in a certain manner. He wouldn’t say he was questioning the event – the gods knew that Whiterun needed something to celebrate about, and Fjoldir hadn’t heard about any other hold taking down any dragons – but admittedly, Fjoldir didn’t entirely know how to handle having someone make special note of his accomplishments, individually or as a part of a group. He supposed, then, that it was solely embarrassment that he felt when he left the barracks on his way to his recent station of Dragonsreach.

Fjoldir spent quite a time in waiting for the ceremonial entry to be led by a housecarl, busying himself with discussing the feast with the other guards until someone motioned for them to line up and prepare to enter. As they stepped into the palace, Fjoldir avoided meeting eyes with too many of the people staring at them, instead focusing ahead on the Jarl’s table and making his bow when he felt like he was supposed to before they all sat down to eat. He actually liked having the helmet of the guards on for most public events. Fjoldir almost didn’t know what expression to provide to anyone who looked back into his face as they finished up the rituals that preceded the dinner. Though tentative at first about how to go about with the decorum of the evening, the conversation at the table and the fact that most people weren’t flocking to the guards due to focusing on the food made Fjoldir comfortable enough to eat his fill – and his fill was a hard thing to achieve on most days, with the food from the barracks or what he bought for himself. In spite of all the gathering of attractive and important people that he remained constantly aware of, Fjoldir forgot about having to purposefully act respectable and started to fully enjoy everything about the time the dinner ended and everyone was freed to mingle as they wished to.

Unlike some of the guards, Fjoldir mostly remained at the table with the other dragon-slayers, sipping at his mead. It was only due to the fact that all of them had already run dry of things to discuss that another spoke up, noticing Fjoldir’s interest in the other people filling the room. ”Fjoldir, all of us are obviously boring you. Go find someone else to entertain you for a while.” Fjoldir glanced at him, motioning his shoulder in a near-shrug. ”Your boring has rubbed off on me over the years,” he said, edge of his mouth curved in some amusement. ”Everyone in the room has to have something more to do with their time than talk to me.” Turning back into his mug of mead, Fjoldir almost swallowed a bit of it wrong when one of the others added to the idea of the first guard, mentioning a woman this time around. Fjoldir lowered his drink and lifted an eyebrow to replace it. ”Have you heard me trying to talk to a woman?” Fjoldir gave them all a deadpan look as they rang off a chorus, essentially ignoring him before he could range into the subject of his few encounters with women over the years. Deciding they didn’t need his input whatsoever, Fjoldir did his best to ignore them for about a minute until he finally held up a hand to quiet them down. ”And since all of you are so experienced on the subject of my taste in women, which one do you expect me to spend a few minutes offending?” The nearest guard didn’t even bother to hesitate. ”Find a pretty one! We shouldn’t need to hold your hand with this, Joldy.”

Fjoldir glared at him incredulously for a few seconds before silence settled over them and he returned to his drinks. But his eyes did search the room, settling on a few of the women within his line of vision. Though doing his best to avoid seeming like he was looking at anyone in particular, Fjoldir did find his eyes settling on a small figure a table or two ahead of him. It was more familiarity that caused his eyes to stop upon reaching her, because Fjoldir recognized her from around Dragonsreach, passing in and out of the doors as he hovered near to them. Fjoldir never asked a copious amount of questions, leaving him to question what she did for Dragonsreach that made her such a frequent face during his daily duties. He could remember informing himself that she was rather interesting-looking, though he’d never been able to pinpoint exactly what made him think such a thing. Thus were the thoughts of a door guard at times, and most of them were to be disregarded. With the chance to actually take a closer look at the girl now, though, Fjoldir concluded that his random thoughts hadn’t been so aimless and unfounded as one might have thought.

Fjoldir spent a few seconds debating with himself and staring off towards the group of people in which the girl currently resided, before nodding to himself, taking a long drink of his mead, and dropping the mug onto the table. Standing suddenly, Fjoldir stood and strode with at least some minor confidence in the direction of the girl, waving off the other guards as a pair of them called after to ask what it was he was doing. Fjoldir did his best to keep from intruding on any conversations, easing himself up to the side of the girl and clasping his hands behind his back once there in an effort to make sure his first impression didn’t consist of his brushing some friend of hers out of the picture in favor of starting his own conversation.

let me feel the spirits soar

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[ELANOR .]

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[atrb=border,0,true] KENT WITH FJOLDIR 813 LOL, TOO LAZY TO FIND A DRESS guns and horses - ellie goulding :D

[atrb=border,0,true] ".. and then I told him to go take care of himself, if that was what he was after. I didn't want him burping in my face like last time." A peal of laughter burst from Titania's lips at hearing the other women talk about their husbands. Slowly, as more woman had come to the table Titania had seated herself at, the men had drifted away, towards the guards, or the mead casks, until there were only a few men left remaining at the table. Even then, they seemed to wish they were elsewhere, wanting to avoid the bawdy conversation of the women. Titania herself had nothing to offer up for the women to scrutinize and giggle over, but even so, hearing about the antics of their husbands amused her. Though many of the women spoke with disdain or disgust, it was easy to see they truly did care about their men. Behind every joke or tale they told, there was admiration and love. One day she hoped she'd have the same.. As if reading her mind, one of the other ladies nudged her gently, very nearly making Titania spill her mead. But it just made the Breton's smile grow, and then widen again when she heard what the lady wanted to say. "So, Titania. Have we put you off marriage yet?" "Oh, come off it, Olga. You're always saying marriage was the best thing that happened to you." "That was until he put a kid in my stomach!" Titania laughed along with them all again, until inevitably it turned back to her continued singledom. They tittered about how she was a young thing, that if she actually tried, she'd be snapped up in an instant by some lordling. Another mentioned she had a son about her age, though he was currently in Riverwood with his father. One lady told her not to bother with marriage, and just enjoy being pretty and young while she could. And then, before Titania could protest that she would get married someday, they were all in agreement. Titania should wait until she was old and withered to be wed. Perhaps she should have taken offense, or pretended to for their amusement, but Titania just found it entertaining. It certainly wasn't the first time her unmarried status had been the subject of their jokes. Neither would it be the last. Shaking her head slowly in amusement, Titania raised her cup to her lips, taking a long sip of mead. She had never been much of a fan of the Nord mead, it was a bit bitter for her tastes, but having been living with Nords for most of her life now meant Titania was at least used to its taste. And it always made her feel more inclusive, rather than drinking the wine reserved for the Jarl's table, though that was far more appealing to Titania's tastebuds. She held the mead in her mouth for a second, letting it wash over her tongue and deciding that perhaps this particular brew wasn't so bad, when she realized the women around her had gone silent. Swallowing carefully, Titania looked at them all, determining that they were all staring at something over her shoulder. Lowering her cup slowly, her movements almost cautious, Titania turned towards them. Seeing someone out of the corner of her eye, she jumped to the conclusion she must have been sitting in their seat. It was entirely possible. Titania had not even bothered to check if its previous occupant had been returning anytime soon. "I haven't taken your seat, have I?" Titania asked, only to look up and meet his gaze. Recognition flooded through her, both at the sight of his features and his armor, having seen him standing below as he was congratulated with the other guards. However, Titania could not put a name to his face for the life of her. "Oh, you're one of the guards, aren't you?" she asked kindly, wishing very much she knew his name. Calling him "one of the guards" wasn't very polite, but she hoped the bright smile she sent his way helped to make up for her memory's momentary lapse. "Please, sit down." Shuffling down the bench, the other women next to her followed suit, until there was a gap large enough for the man to sit down. She had thought he was so tall simply because she was seated and he was not, but after clearing some room, it seemed that the man was quite big. Even for a Nord. The other women seemed a bit puzzled as to why one of the guards wanted to join them, but Titania had just assumed he was one of their sons or a brother. But when no one greeted him, that idea was thrown into doubt. Nevertheless, Titania didn't let that confusion show, her lips still spread in that friendly smile of hers.

EVERY FIRE IS A LESSON LEARNED

[Fjoldir .]

in life and death we deal

amidst the blood and steel

TAG: Tits! Words: 551

ONE LAST THING: The Fjoldir brand of awkward.

Fjoldir had gathered up the courage to walk over, now the task was to find the same courage to actually advance beyond the point of standing and likely looking awkward considering the number of eyes at the table before him that turned his way. Carefully avoiding looking at any of them too closely for a few seconds, Fjoldir actually felt relief as the girl that he had so foolishly chosen to approach started to turn and acknowledge his presence. The relief quickly gave way to muddled thoughts, as he fought for some way to explain why he would be…hovering over her so. Good thing that the girl started off the conversation…in a way. ”No, you haven’t,” Fjoldir poorly stated, shrugging his shoulders jerkily as he did so. Fortunately, she didn’t turn to look fully at him until Fjoldir had been provided enough time to regain his composure and provide her with a slow smile as she recognized him as one of the guards. ”Right, I am.” Hmmm…he supposed he could ask her what it was that she did in the castle that brought her around so much. Fjoldir paused and cleared his throat to present the question and save face from remaining behind her, strangely doing nothing but watching her and the rest of the table…but she offered for him to take a seat.

”Thank you,” he responded, waiting patiently until there was enough room for him…and as always, it took a while for enough room for Fjoldir to be made. Glancing at the table with his fellow guards as he prepared to sit down, he could see them all holding up their mugs in a half-hearted toast and bothered to shake his head at them. He was going to be forced into reporting on this once he was done, if he could get past the lot of them staring at him. Choosing to ignore them as if they simply didn’t exist, Fjoldir carefully stepped over and took the seat, keeping sure to keep his elbows in so he didn’t send anyone flying off the other end of the bench. And, suddenly, he was tasked with what to do with those elbows otherwise. Fjoldir ultimately settled on resting them rather uncomfortably on the table in front of him, his hands clasped beyond them. His eyes shifted from face to face at the table, hoping someone would give him a nice opportunity to edge his way in and start up…something akin to a conversation with the girl beside him. Instead, all seemed content to stare, leading to Fjoldir’s taking a deep breath and turning his gaze to look the girl full in the face, trying not to think too much about how nice of a smile she had in case he should forget his words.

”I work the doors of the palace on most days,” Fjoldir began, motioning his head in their direction. He allowed himself a nervous chuckle. ”Though you…probably don’t recognize me, because of the mask… I’ve noticed you passing in and out and wanted to ask about you. It doesn’t pay to be ignorant of the people that you’re hopefully helping to protect on a daily basis.” Right, he’d managed to make it so far without saying something worthy of a groan. ”Could I ask what you do here?”

let me feel the spirits soar

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[ELANOR .]

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[atrb=border,0,true] KENT WITH FJOLDIR 480 LOL, TOO LAZY TO FIND A DRESS guns and horses - ellie goulding do they put mead in jugs? THEY DO NOW! ;D

[atrb=border,0,true] once he'd sat down, titania could see that the man was a lot larger than she'd realized. no wonder he'd been able to help take down a dragon, she found herself thinking, feeling almost dwarfed by him as he finally sat down. she felt the women's gaze on him, but none of them were smiling as titania was. but neither were they being unkind. titania hazarded a guess that they were just watching the guard, scrutinizing and waiting for him to do something worthy telling all their friends who had no made it up to the feast. titania almost felt sorry for the poor fellow. "Oh, of course." Titania responded upon hearing the guard beside her actually worked within Dragonsreach, watching the doors. She nodded and smiled when he mentioned that she probably didn't recognize him, which was true, though if Titania paid attention to who was guarding the doors, no doubt she would have realized one was of an larger build. but for the most part titania paid the guards no heed. when she was rushing around running errands, she didn't have time to stop to chat with everyone she met. and there was no doubt in her mind her mindless chattering would just distract the guards from their very important duties. Titania was aware of the eyes of the other women on the two of them, but she didn't particularly mind. they were just looking for something, anything, to fuel their gossip. when she answered the guard's question, titania answered without hesitation. "i'm one of lady rosalind's handmaidens." she answered simply, though she felt it needed more explaining. "i do run a lot of errands, too. which is probably why you see me running about so much each day." with that, titania let out a short laugh. she hadn't thought about it much, but she was quite busy every day, darting down to the town and then back up to dragonsreach multiple times each day. but it didn't matter, titania loved her job and wouldn't change it for the world. reaching for a spare tankard in the middle of the table, titania picked it up and placed it in front of the man seated beside her. once she'd picked up the jug that held mead, titania offered to the guard, letting him now she could pour him one if he wished. "would you like some mead.. oh, uh.." she paused rather ungracefully, realizing she still didn't know the man's name. when he spoke and asked her about what she did in dragonsreach, she hadn't thought to introduce herself. "i'm so sorry. i didn't catch your name." she explained, feeling a little flustered for reasons she didn't know. she almost never got flustered. she did know he hadn't actually introduced himself, but she still felt a fool for not remembering it from the earlier ceremony. titania would have guessed but being wrong would only make her more embarrassed.

EVERY FIRE IS A LESSON LEARNED

[Fjoldir .]

in life and death we deal

amidst the blood and steel

TAG: Tits! Words: 672

ONE LAST THING: They're Nords, I'm sure they put mead in whatever it'll go in.

”Ohhh, right.”

A handmaiden made sense. He assumed that she probably meant to the countess. Sounded like a very nice job if anyone asked him. Well, not because the girl got to spend time with the countess; no, he didn’t mean it to be a creepy sentiment of how beautiful the countess was and how it would be nice to be near her all day, though Fjoldir had few doubts that some of the other guards would feel that way. No, he only meant that it would be nice to spend a large portion of the day interacting with a woman that Fjoldir thought, in addition to her power, to be a good person judging by what he knew of her. Wow, he was very glad he hadn’t voiced any of his thoughts aloud. He was fairly sure he blinked awkwardly a few times as he attempted to shove them from his mind and come up breathing again with something decently intelligent to say. Fjoldir tried to ignore his awareness that everyone else sitting at the table seemed to be staring at him to gauge his reaction to the answer from the girl. Why had he approached such a busy, woman-filled table? ”That sounds like a very nice job,” he did voice, ”getting to spend time in the palace with the jarl and his family.” He judged by her few laughs – very nice laughs, at that, and enough to make Fjoldir tear into a smile despite a tense nervousness still clamping on his muscles – and by the way she headed around Dragonsreach on most days that he could make an assumption. ”You look like you enjoy it on most days that I spot you.”

Slightly diverting his eyes as she reached for something across the table, Fjoldir angled quick peeks at the other women at the table. He found that half of them were staring at him with slight, if rather disconcerting, smiles on their faces while a few of the others were turned and whispering in the ears of their closest neighbors at the table. Fjoldir nodded rather uncomfortably at the pair who met his eyes before again trying to forget they were there. This was probably some sort of ritual for a tableful of women when a man joined a table, and probably one that he would never understand. Nor want to understand. Instead, he took notice that the handmaiden had set a tankard in front of him and looked ready to provide him with some of the mead from the table. Good…if the women kept staring at him, having a drink to wash away his nerves could go a long way to helping him continue the conversation, because frankly, Fjoldir had barely even exchanged a minute’s worth of conversation with the girl and he already felt as if he was enjoying himself.

And forgetful as always, he hadn’t introduced himself. As Fjoldir looked back into her face with an expression equal parts a cringe and a smile, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand at her apology. She couldn’t go blaming herself for not knowing his name if he hadn’t told her. It was doubtful that she could read minds, even if she was a handmaiden and probably had some sort of sixth sense about people’s needs. She’d started reaching for the mead at a very opportune time, after all. But, right, the name. ”My name’s Fjoldir.” Suddenly, he felt like half of the women in the town knew his name and it was going to be spread to every hold and every ear. "I would love some mead, thank you.” Fjoldir wondered to himself for a split second whether or not there was some sort of decorum to asking the name of a lady working in a palace, deciding quickly that there probably was but that he didn’t know a thing about it. ”And the name of the lady pouring it?” Hopefully asking in such a way wouldn’t get him thrown out onto the steps.

let me feel the spirits soar

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[ELANOR .]

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[atrb=border,0,true] KENT WITH FJOLDIR 701 LOL, TOO LAZY TO FIND A DRESS guns and horses - ellie goulding that.. is very true. xD

[atrb=border,0,true] "It is." Titania nodded in agreement as the guard said being a handmaiden sounded like a nice job. Sometimes it felt like more than a job to the Breton; she'd been Rosalind's companion for so long that often she thought of the Nord as her sister, despite there being obvious differences between the two woman, in both appearance and personality. In all honesty, however, since moving to Dragonsreach, Titania had almost felt like a part of Rosalind's and her husband's family. She wasn't officially, of course, but her two friends were very dear to her heart, and Titania would do anything for them. "Oh, I love it." Titania nodded eagerly again, returning the guard's smile with another of her own. "I honestly couldn't picture myself doing anything else." Hearing the other women whisper about the fellow next to her, Titania tried her best to ignore them. It wasn't entirely possible, and before she knew it, she'd cast her eyes on one woman. When she noticed Titania was staring at her, she seemed to get the message and fell into silence. The handmaiden had no idea what the lady might have been saying to her friend, but at the very least they could wait until after the feast to gossip. Or when the subject of their gossip had left their immediate presence. Turning back to him, Titania flashed him something of an apologetic smile. When she turned back to him, she waited for him to tell her his name, the jug of mead in her hand. It was quite awkward holding it up so, but Titania knew she should wait until he either declined or accepted the offer before moving it any further. "Fjoldir.." she repeated quietly, committing the name to memory as her gaze ran over his face. In case he thought she was staring, she beamed at him again. "A nice name. It suits you." Though she'd learned to compliment the names of everyone she met as a courtesy, Titania was sincere in her words. She knew that she would not be forgetting his name anytime soon. Another smile lit her features as Fjoldir mentioned he would like some mead, filling the empty tankard she'd placed in front of him almost to the brim. She'd been so focused on not spilling the drink and making a fool of herself that Titania almost forgot to introduce herself. When he asked after it, she let out a short laugh, putting down the jug in a hurry, but thankfully not slopping any of the mead over the table. Titania was certain doing so was something of a crime to Nords. They sure took their mead seriously enough. "I am Titania." The Breton was aware she had an unusual name, especially among the strong consonants and harsh sounds of Nordic names, but she had always rather liked it. Mostly because her mother had picked it out for her on her name day. "It is a bit of a mouthful, so most people call me Anya." She almost shrugged as she added that on the end. She wasn't sure why she felt it important to inform Fjoldir of her nickname, though it was partially nervous prattling. And she supposed she didn't particularly mind if Fjoldir used it. Reaching for the jug again, Titania lifted it and topped up her own tankard before lifting it up in offer. When one woman indicated she wanted it, Titania passed it on, her attention returning quickly to the Nord beside her. "So, now that I have poured your mead," she started, lifting her own tankard to her lips though her eyes were fixed on him. "You'll have to tell me about this dragon you helped slay." Taking a quick sip of mead, she lowered the mug again, waiting for Fjoldir to speak. She hoped he would share the story. Titania had heard some of it from other servants in Dragonsreach, but there was no way to tell how much of it was the truth. The idea of hearing it from someone who was there, and who actually fought the great beast, was terribly exciting. "I've heard bits and pieces, but I'm sure the entire tale is far more fascinating."

EVERY FIRE IS A LESSON LEARNED

[Fjoldir .]

in life and death we deal

amidst the blood and steel

TAG: Tits! Words: 942

ONE LAST THING: He's like C-3P0.

At the simplest level of comparison, Fjoldir imagined that guard work and serving as a handmaiden were jobs with at least a few similarities – they were enjoyable only to people who weren’t prone to complain about having people need them for certain things. Even if Fjoldir ended up standing by a doorway for half of the day by Irileth’s orders, he usually felt fulfilled in knowing that if anyone came through those doors with bad intent on their minds that he would have as good of a chance as anyone to stop them. The girl got the chance to interact with the people Fjoldir enjoyed protecting. Hmm…if he started to run out of things to say, Fjoldir could probably bring up those points. As comfortable as he was surprisingly feeling as he chatted with the girl, though – even with the other, older women occasionally making themselves visible and causing him to slightly cut his gaze to them – Fjoldir doubted that he would need a backup plan for the conversation, nor would she if he was reading her right. People didn’t typically smile that cheerfully at him unless they had reason to.

With more anxiousness than he had expected to feel, Fjoldir waited expectantly for the verdict on his name, never letting his eyes stray from the girl though a small temptation to look down at the other women in light paranoia again hit him. The guard rather liked his name on most days. It was nothing to complain about even on the worst of days, save for the horrors his sister could perform in her various attempts to turn it into different pet names. It would seem like the girl liked it, fortunately. ”Thank you,” Fjoldir responded to the complement about his name, meeting the smile that crossed the girl’s face before he looked down at the hand that was subconsciously rubbing a shaving of wood on the tabletop. ”People seem to have a fun time chopping my name up into all sorts of different pieces, too, so feel free to have at it yourself.” He added a grin to ensure she didn’t think he was being sarcastic. Actually, hearing what she could come up was of some interest to him.

Happy to sit back and watch her pour the mead – and a full tankard, too; she knew Nords well – Fjoldir couldn’t help but find himself watching her hands work. Apparently, the women took note of him doing so, because he noticed another one shifting on the other side of the table to say something else. Once Fjoldir looked at her, she ceased, but he imagined that the “damage” was done already. Thankfully he didn’t have to dwell on it for long, as Titania gave him her name along with that interesting laugh that she seemed to have. Fjoldir didn’t need quite as long to chew on the name. ”That’s very pretty.” Though Fjoldir couldn’t say he knew terribly much about Breton names, and there was little doubt in his mind that Titania was a Breton, he knew that out of the Breton names that he’d heard in his life, Titania was probably the best one for the girl before him. Strangely, Anya was even better. Fjoldir nodded along, studying her. ”You wouldn’t mind me calling you Anya then, would you?”, he asked, taking a long drink from the tankard once he’d done so.

Once it was placed back down before him and everyone settled in with their drinks, Fjoldir didn’t have to mull long on anything he could ask her, as she brought up the reason they were all sitting around this table in the first place – the slaying of that dragon out at the watchtower. A touch of the same embarrassment from before, when he’d been before the great crowd gathered here, played at his features as he sheepishly looked into the top of his tankard at the mead within. Now how was he going to make this story as interesting as Titania seemed to think it was? Fjoldir wasn’t much of a storyteller and therefore doubted he could manage it. After a heavy breath, he finally responded, though he didn’t turn to face her yet. ”If anyone tries to give you a romantic idea of all of us as heroes taking down a dragon like in the old days, don’t listen to them. It was actually not much more than a mess. It’s only by the gods’ will that we’re all not dead.”

Fjoldir took another drink from the tankard before setting it down again and tapping on the side. She did say she wanted to hear about the dragon, so maybe he could interest her with tales of the beast itself. Though he didn’t mind the other women listening in, he made it clear to whom he was telling the story as he angled himself on the bench towards Titania. ”I can say that the dragon was as big as the drawings in storybooks, though. Wings…scales…huge, gaping mouth with teeth as big as my forearm.” For effect, Fjoldir held the closest arm up. ”I got caught with the tail, but it only hit my chestplate and knocked me flat. All the lot of us could really do was keep swinging, and I suppose we swung enough that we hit something important with an arrow or an axe. It was a good thing someone brought ranged weapons…I can guarantee you that I’ll never hit another dragon with a warhammer again,” Fjoldir stated, humorously, again staring down at his sore hands and flexing the fingers, all of which still had a slight blue tint to them from the previous bruises.

let me feel the spirits soar

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[ELANOR .]

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[atrb=border,0,true] KENT WITH FJOLDIR 1010 LOL, TOO LAZY TO FIND A DRESS guns and horses - ellie goulding lmao, a war hammer wielding c-3po~

[atrb=border,0,true] Titania bobbed her head as Fjoldir thanked her for complimenting his name. "You're welcome." She took a second to muse over possible ways to shorten his name, but found herself coming up with nothing. Titania had never been good at such things, but the way he was grinning at her made her feel as if she should suggest something. Anything would do. Even if she rather liked Fjoldir the way it was. It just seemed to roll of the tongue nicely. "What about.." she started, only to break off into thought. It was only a moment later that inspiration struck her. "Joldy?" she suggested, looking at him carefully to gauge his reaction. She'd hate to find it was something he disliked, and if he did, Titania hoped he'd inform her so. "Unless there's something else you prefer. To be perfectly honest, I'm rather awful at shortening people's names." She flashed him an apologetic smile before raising her tankard to her lips to take a short sip. Preventing a blush from rising in her cheeks was impossible when Fjoldir complimented her name in turn. The handmaiden tried not to act embarrassed, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks rise as they turned pink. "Thank you very much." When he asked if she minded that he call her Anya, Titania nodded, letting out a nervous laugh. "Of course not. You may call me Anya, if you wish." Following Fjoldir's suit, she took another drink of mead, though her sip was far smaller. Nords seemed to be able to drink mead by the bucketload with little results, but Titania felt like another entire tankard would land her under the table. Which would not look good at all. It wasn't hard to pick up on the fact Fjoldir became a little uncomfortable when Titania asked him to speak about fighting the dragon. She waited patiently for him to speak, an encouraging smile playing upon her features as she watched him stare at his mead. She didn't blame him for being a little embarrassed; he was truly the center of attention at the table now, most of the women turning their attention to him to hear Fjoldir's version of events. But still Fjoldir remained quiet, and Titania could feel some of them shift, turning towards other things. But the Breton kept her gaze trained on Fjoldir, when finally he spoke. It was Titania's turn to feel a little sheepish when Fjoldir told her the romanticized stories she might have heard were not to believed. In all honesty, Titania had been picturing the entire situation as being something from the stories she had read and heard, but something in Fjoldir's tone made her realize just how wrong she was. Dragons were something to be feared, and just as easily (or difficultly) as the dragon had been slain, the opposite could have proven true. She doubted Fjoldir's words had meant to cause her so much thought, but they made Titania feel silly sitting next to him and prattling on about how fascinating it must have been. Fjoldir seemed to gloss over the true details of the fight at the watchtower, but nevertheless his description of the dragon had Titania's eyes widening. With her already overactive imagination, it wasn't hard to picture the beast in her head, almost able to see the fearsome creature's teeth as Fjoldir's forearm rose to give her an estimation of their size. It was hard to believe something so big could possibly exist, but at the same time, Titania knew it to be true. Since hearing about the dragon attack in Helgen, she'd read all she could find on the mythical beasts, the great descriptions of their size and ferocity leaping off the page. It only made Titania respect the guards all the more when they returned victorious. There had been such a small chance of victory, that Titania had to agree with Fjoldir's comment that the gods had lent their strength to Whiterun's protectors. Unlike the Nord beside her, however, Titania also believed there must have been some of the men's skill behind it too. Not everyone who could swing a sword would have been able to kill a dragon, even if the gods deigned to offer their assistance. Her shocked expression quickly dissolved into another smile when it was clear Fjoldir had finished talking. "It certainly sounds fearsome. You were all so brave to face it. Even more so to fell it." The way Titania spoke wasn't simpering, but more matter of fact. She truly admired the courageous men who had risked their lives to protect their city and hold, and wasn't afraid to let her respect for them show. Titania's comment had caused a mixture of reactions from the women around them, but for that moment, the Breton's entire focus was on the man before her. Slowly, her eyes drifted down, following Fjoldir's gaze to his hands. She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary at first, until he shifted them, and the discoloration she'd taken to be shadows were shown to be bruises. "Oh, your hands.." she couldn't help but exclaim, only just managing to stop herself from reaching out and inspecting them with her own. Titania could very well imagine the kind of whispering that would garner from their present company. "Are those.. bruises?" Already Titania had determined that they were, so the question was rather pointless. Yet realization dawned on her, recalling what Fjoldir had said to her earlier about hitting the dragon with a warhammer. Even without a close inspection, Titania could tell it must have been painful, but they appeared to be healing rather well. As such, she wasn't too worried about them, but she let her gaze linger over them for a moment more before Titania looked once more to Fjoldir's face. "Dragons must have strong scales indeed to withstand a warhammer." Warhammers were big, hefty weapons, and with Fjoldir's size, Titania could only imagine the power behind it. One thing was for certain, she didn't envy the dragon in the slightest.

EVERY FIRE IS A LESSON LEARNED