The Bite of the Menders

A brazen Nord swung up at the struggling dragon before him with a great battle axe, chopping at its neck. He’d thoomed the beast down, and victory seemed assured. As he readied for the final swing to cleave the beast’s head off its scaly neck, he noticed that it braced itself, which cause him to pause.

Holding his axe aloft, he asked the beast “What’s wrong? Scared to die, you great milk drinker?”

Of course, the dragon was feigning, and thoomed the warrior away from him, and struggled to stand. The Nord smacked himself on the head, for he’d forgotten to never taunt a downed dragon. However, his helm had flown off while he flew away from the dragon, and so he hit himself quite hard with a steel-gloved hand. Dazed, he focused on the dragon in the middle, and made ready.

They thoomed at the same time, and then all was dark.

”YOU STUPID LITTLE JOOR, LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”, the dragon roared. “YOU’VE CAST US BOTH OUT!”

The man got up slowly, if indeed there still was up, for he and the dragon were Nowhere. “Where in the oblivion are we?” he asked, still dazed from his own stupidity.

The dragon snapped his great jaws, silently cursing the man. Finally, it spoke again “You’ve thrown us out of time, you fool! Now I’m stuck here forever – with you!”

”Stuck… where?” the man replied. His eyes could see nothing besides the dragon. All else was void.

”Out. Out of Time.” the dragon replied testily. “We’re out of time, and probably for good. Damn you you stupid little joor!”

This of course made no sense, for no man can be out of time, and especially no dragon. The man made to swing his axe at the dragon, to end what he knew must be some trickery, but found himself unable to move towards it. He tried again, to no avail.

”What the hell did you do to me?” he growled, putting a thoom on his lips.

”I? What did I do you you?”, the dragon asked incredulously. “Nothing. You went and put us out of time. And now I can’t even have the pleasure of eating you. Not even a Thu’um could touch you now.”

”What are you saying?”

”Are you really that dense, you scrawny Nord? We’re stuck here, together, forever, because you’re an idiot.”

The Nord scratched his head, for none of what the dragon was saying made sense. He thoomed at the dragon, but cried out as it rang in his ears.

When at least he could hear again, he asked “So, what do we do now? Wait to die?”

The dragon glared at him. “‘Wait’? You’re serious?”

The Nord nodded his head, a decision he immediately regretted.

”I don’t think you quite understand, which comes as no surprise. We are out of Time. There is no ‘waiting’ anymore.”.

A few millennia went by in the Aurbis, and then the Nord asked the dragon “So, we ought to think of something to stay amused. Can you tell stories, beast?”

The dragon blinked, then got a brilliant idea indeed. “I’ll teach you a song, and you must sing it while I speak, alright?”

The Nord agreed, for he enjoyed singing nearly as much as he enjoyed Shouting. The dragon taught him a song in the Old Tongue, and he set to singing it. The dragon settled back, and began its tale.

”Long ago, before the Great Break, I and some of my kin were hiding in the same mountains you scaled to fight me. They were bigger than me, and more powerful besides. We ruled those mountains before your kind rebelled, and afterwards, we held them as one of our places of… I suppose it is said, in your tongue, “last refuge”. When the Great Break came, we all endured it as best we could. It was the worst, worse than any scale-itch you could… er… well, it was the worst feeling ever, to be sundered from our Bormahu. After what felt like ages, one of the bigger dragons said to me ‘Ho ha ho, you speedy little runt, come here!’ And I did.

‘Yes, now you must go, and find the Menders beyond the Rim. They’re being kept out, otherwise they would have fixed Bormahu by now. Go see what’s taking them so long.’ I leapt up and flew away to find the Menders.

I see the curiosity in in your ugly little face, so I’ll tell you: the Menders are the helpers of Bormahu, Father. When his mind breaks, they come to him and nurse him back to sanity. In your tongue, I have heard them called ‘jills’, or something like that.

Anyway, I flew off to find them, passing through night and day. I flew over the dark waters, and the Princes on their islands parted their armies to let me pass, for they too were sick and tired of this stupid Break. I flew through the big hole in the waters, and out into the Magic Realm. The guardians let me pass, and they looked worried, so I hurried, and flew without rest onwards.

Eventually I reached the Rim, only to find my progress blocked by a dancing figure, larger than any I’ve ever seen. There were more of them all along the Rim, dancing and chanting in the same tongue you’re singing in. I yelled at them to get out of the way, but they didn’t respond, so I bit one.

He yelped and jumped and I was thrown out into the Void as his foot struck me.

So, I began to sing, calling for the Menders. I sang

‘Mothers, O Mothers, hear this lost son’s plea! Father is mad, and’s not gotten better! I will show you the way to him!’

For what seemed like an eternity, I waited, and then they came, the Menders. Far more lovely and graceful than any of my kin you’ve seen, human, I guarantee you that. I showed them how to bite again, and they bit every dancer on the Rim.

As we flew back through the Rim to find Bormahu, they sang in the tongue you sing in now, and in such fashion, healed his broken mind. And he said ‘Ho ha ho, what has been happening?! How long have I lain mad?! I feel completely different!’

And his face was blurred, and we could not understand it.

And that’s my story.”

The Nord stopped singing at the abrupt end. “Wait, wait, hold on. How did you get back to those mountains?”

The dragon snorted. “Is that important? No. Besides, I accomplished what I wanted.”

”And what was that?” the Nord asked.

The dragon grinned a toothy grin. “I got you to sing the Menders here. They haven’t had a meal in ages, you see. They’re quite ravenous.”

And the Nord looked, and the most terrifying shapes he’d ever seen were winging themselves out of the void. He screamed and thoomed until his ears bled, but it was no use, for the swiftest of the jills gobbled him up in one bite.

She spoke to the dragon floating in the void, saying “Many thanks, Son of Bormahu, for this tasty morsel. Now wing your way home again. Make the story a bit shorter next time, for you’re not good at telling them.”