The breton ignored the back and forth as he looked at the Lillmothit girl in the bed. "Your help has been most appreciated Mage," Ulfric responded dryly though knowing the mage he was too lost in his thoughts and studies to care. "If you need me I will be at my studies." "She must be unable to speak," he said grumbling. Wuunfreth finally threw up his hands and stalked towards Ulfric. Leigh took a seat next to the girl as the mage continued to pace about, becoming more and more frustrated before after one more attempted at asking her to speak and receiving not a single ear-twitch in response. He paused after asking 'why do you not talk' in the Lillmothit language but the girl just stared straight ahead not even acknowledging the mage. He could tell Wuunfreth was getting frustrated waving his arms about and shrugging as he talked at the little furred being in the bed. Leigh bowed to his lord and then entered the room. Especially when that one only wanted to go back to their books. Still two possible avenues of comunication were better than one. Of coarse, it wouldn't have been that simple. "As a written form only, they really are a very literate people, quite a few books written by their own scholars." ![]() "Do you know anything of their language?" Had he known Leigh had any ability he wouldn't have even bothered with Wuunfreth. Ulfric looked over at the smaller breton. Leigh looked at his lord and then the mage. Maybe when one of the older siblings awaken. "I do not have many choices in my communications. ![]() Leigh could be a bit… sarcastic but he did have a point. Sire," the scholar said with a bit of bite in his voice so the Jarl knew the younger breton thought he was being not entirely intelligent in his reasoning. "An interrogation of a little girl might not be the best way to get that information. "Since she is awake I wanted to try to get some information out of her. "Thank you Leigh," Ulfric told the scholar. The other two are sleeping off their cold sickness." "The chief healers sent word, they believe the eldest of the Lillmothit will survive. "Sire," a new voice intoned and Ulfric turned from the scene to a slight looking breton pushing the very dark brown hair from his hazel eyes. The little Lillmothit looked up when the mage entered arms still crossed but went back to staring straight ahead. He stood over the youngling and began to speak in a strange tounge. The mage grumped and then entered the room. "More than we do at present," Ulfric responded. "I will try but she looks only eight or so seasons what would she know?" Angry, mulish even and her black furred prick ears blended with her hair as they lay back. The wizard hrumphed and looked at the small form sitting in the bed long black hair spilling out behind her unbraided her and arms crossed with her right arm instead of the white of most her fur the same deep black as her hair. "We are not sure if he will survive his wounds." She is the only one of the four awake, and the one that we believe the eldest is." Ulfric sighed shaking his head. ![]() "As far as I know, no one in the keep has any familiarity with their language. "I have never conversed with one of their kind." "They're written language," The mage countered. "But you have had to study their language." "I would not say I have delved into their culture." "For their healing magics of coarse," The mage responded. "We have no idea what has happened, and she is the only one of them awake. Ulrfric grunted and waved his large calloused hand into the guest quarters. "I have little time for this, especially the work that you and Iona asked me to do on Dragons!" Jarl Stormcloak," Mage Wuunfreth the Unliving announced as they stood at the door of one of the hold's guest quarters. His only sources a grumpy mage and a snarky but gentle scholar. The continuation of the story inspired by, and slightly prompted and cheered on by Wielder Ulfric needs information and unfortunately he doesn't know who to use to get it.
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