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The story of how Fahdonmul defeated Alduin in the Dragonborn's absence continues - it will run to eight chapters.
Sweet-Roll-Devour suggests a solution to a problem.

Icon art by  den-99

While Sweet-Roll-Devour is my creation, I owe a lot to an anonymous contributor writing a fanfic about him, which helped gel his personality. Skyrim and its characters are property of Bethesda, of course.

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Chapter 5 - A Dragon's Past

The huge, orange Ancient Dragon flopped indolently in the centre of the throne room.

"...What about 'Fly-Hunger-Burn?'" the Dragon Priest asked hopefully. "That would put terror into the hearts of our enemies! Your worshippers will live in awe of your greatness and majesty!"

"'Hunger' is two words," the dragon objected. "That makes four. A dovah name has three words of power, always. 'Fly-Hunger' might work, or 'Hunger-Burn', but... Well, our names reflect who we are, what we do... for a dovah to change his name is not something to be taken lightly. And flying around burning things sounds too much like hard work."

The priest scowled behind the ceremonial mask. Other Dragon Priests served such fearsome sky-lords as Dark-Maw-Eat, Snow-Hunter-Wing or Fury-Burn-Wither. Why was he cursed with such a lazy dragon?

"Also, if I am to be known for rampages, those will have to happen somewhere," the dragon pointed out. "Ravaging my own territory would be utterly stupid, and would turn our followers against us. They give us tributes for me to leave them alone, yes? To slay only their enemies? You cannot seriously suggest I break that covenant, surely? They would never pay us tributes again! Not that they could, with all their property destroyed...
"But at the same time, to rampage in the territory of another dovah would be rude. They would defend their territory with tooth, claw and Voice, and I might lose such a fight. Then you would be in trouble!"

"Could you not at least try to act a little more draconic?" the priest pleaded. "This... inaction... is harming your image as a mighty sky-lord. And if the people ever work out that your name means 'Eats many animals'..."

"I am a dovah," the dragon yawned insolently. "I do what I want. What I do not want to do, I do not do - or, I make my minions do for me instead. Those who oppose me, I punish with great vengeance. What could be more draconic than that...?"

"It is the last part which troubles me, Lord," the priest said. "It has been a decade at least, since you have demonstrated your power and wrath. The people are starting to forget, and some of your worshippers are openly wondering why they should pay tribute to a lazy beast like you."

"What?!" the dragon's head shot up, snorting a small gout of flames. "Treachery! Who said that...? I shall eat their cattle!"

It's a start, the priest thought.

* * *

"Joor!" the Ancient Dragon roared, landing on the roof of the farmhouse and lighting up the sky with flame. "Come out and face me, insolent mortal!"

Trembling, the farmer left the house and stood in the path where the dragon could see him. Sitting upon his master's back, the Dragon Priest looked down at him critically and pointed his staff at the farmer imposingly. "This is the one," he confirmed.

"You dare call your lord and protector a 'lazy beast'?" the dragon roared. "How many dragon attacks have you seen since I came, mortal? How many bandit raids? Fear of me has kept intruders from your door, who would torch your lands and take your heads as trophies!
"Who predicts the weather for you, and clears the sky when too much rain threatens your crops? I have done much for you, mortal - and this is how you reward me...?"

"Forgive me, Great One..." the farmer whimpered. "I was drunk... I spoke rashly... It will not happen again..."

"I demand a tribute," the dragon growled. "Give me your cows and I shall spare you and your cottage. Refuse me, and you shall see all that you love burn!"

"Lord," the farmer protested. "Great One... If you eat all my cows I shall have none to give as tribute next tithing..."

At that moment, the cottage door opened and a small girl emerged, to the farmer's utter terror. "No, Dorhe... he shouted. "Back! Back into the cottage!"

The dragon sniffed the air and craned his neck downwards to see the farmer's daughter.

"What... is that smell...?" he demanded.

"Fear?" the Dragon Priest suggested. "The terror of heretics who have doubted your might...?"

"No... a kind of foody smell," the dragon sniffed again. "The girl..."

"You wish her as your sacrifice?" the priest's eyes lit up behind the ceremonial mask, and the farmer turned pale. "That will silence the doubters for sure! None will dare defy you again after such a harsh lesson!"

"No, no, no," the dragon said and leaned forwards. "Girl! What are you holding there, child...?"

At this point the farmer's daughter finally looked up to see the dragon crouching on her rooftop and froze. "S-sweet roll..." she stammered.

"Give it to me," the dragon demanded, before realising that he was too high up. He shuffled forwards, craned his neck down and, terrified, the young girl placed the roll on his tongue before running back into the cottage.

Time froze as the dragon sat there in silence.

"This is good," he said finally. "Mortal farmer, I have changed my mind. Forget the cattle, and bring me more sweet-rolls. These will be your tribute."

The Dragon Priest looked at his dragon with dismay.

"Sweet-rolls!?" he hissed. "You forgave him for a bunch of cakes?"

"They are nice," the dragon insisted as the farmer hurried away to fetch the tribute. "Why have you kept these from me, priest? What other secrets are you mortals hiding in your kitchens...?"

"Who would even think to offer a dragon a sweet-roll?" the priest protested. "You eat mammoths! You eat your enemies! You should have eaten the girl as a demonstration of your power and anger!"

"I have decided," the dragon said, looking pleased with himself.

Oh no, the priest thought.

"From now on," the dragon declared proudly, "I shall be called..."

"Sweet-Roll-Devour!" Fahdonmul called out. The orange dragon shook himself, coming out of his reverie. He glanced around the Monahven and sighed.

"Are you alright?" the brown dragon queried.

"I am... saddened," Sweet-Roll-Devour admitted. "Thinking back on the olden times... before Alduin ruined it all."

"Melancholy is an easy trap for us to fall into," Fahdonmul agreed. "And I too pine for the old days, when there was peace and balance between men and dragons... But I mean to make him pay for taking that from us."

"You are resolved in that, then...?" Sweet-Roll-Devour sounded worried. "He is the first-born of Our Father. For all his evil... have we the right to strike him down...?"

"That is what I wish to discuss with you," Fahdonmul said. "I... I have spoken with Bormahu."

"How?!" the big dragon looked terrified. "Are you sure?! What did He say to you...?"

"Mortals obtain blessings from shrines," Fahdonmul said. "Diseases can be cured there by divine aid. If the petitioner has offended the gods, they obtain nothing. I found a shrine to Bormahu and prayed there, and He answered me.
"I will not say all that He told me - I have not the right. But He appeared before me as a vision of a flaming dovah - just as when He appeared to battle Mehrunes Dagon at the end of the Third Era.
"The Great One is angered with Alduin for his betrayal, for his mishandling of things that caused so many of our kind to be martyred. Mighty Akatosh has instructed me to slay Alduin before he can do more damage, that his soul may return to our Father to face His wrath."

Sweet-Roll-Devour stared at Fahdonmul in disbelief. The brown dragon's eyes gazed into the distance with an expression of awe, like a mortal who had visited Sovngarde and yet returned alive. "It seems I really am the Chosen One," Fahdonmul said. "My creator Himself has given me a sacred quest... now I just need to see it through."

"Assuming you speak truly and have not been led astray by madness, or some other power masquerading as Our Father, this is welcome news indeed," Paarthurnax said. "But Alduin is now in hiding. He has, I think, returned to Sovngarde to feast upon the sil of unfortunate mortals. But I do not know how he does this."

"Do you know this, refugee...?" Fahdonmul asked, turning to the veteran of the dragon war.

"I do not," the dragon admitted. "He has jealously guarded that secret. A mere peon such as myself is not privy to such an honour. When he came here to fight Fahdonmul... He... barely even looked at me..." the dragon added miserably.

"The mortals say that you should never meet your heroes," Fahdonmul told him. "Alduin sees most of us as tools to use and discard," he added. "Only a precious few are in his inner circle. I do not think any I have met on my travels will have been told such a great secret..."

"Odahviing might know," Sweet-Roll-Devour interrupted. The other three dragons craned their necks to stare at him.

"I had spoken to some of his minions before I found this sanctuary," Sweet-Roll-Devour said, looking embarrassed. "I learned secrets. I am one of Alduin's risen, so they assumed that like them, I was bonded to his service, and spoke freely.
"The Elder I spoke with was unhappy at how things were going and blamed it on the inner circle.
"While he did not know how this thing was done, he expressed doubts about whether Alduin should be devouring mortal souls for his own selfish ends, rather than as his duty to bring about the End Times as Bormahu intended. That he was misusing Bormahu's gift and that He would send His wrath down upon the Eldest."

"He was right," Fahdonmul said, looking awestruck again. "Mighty Akatosh seemed really pissed off about Alduin's doings."

"Earlier, the Old One said Alduin was hiding," the orange dragon continued. "I think this is indeed true, for Alduin knows.
"You may remember, Fahdonmul, that when you trounced him earlier, he said he cannot be slain here. But in Aetherius, where the boundaries between life and death are weaker..? If he can be slain anywhere, that is where I would try.
"Why else would he guard the secret so jealously, when he could empower his lieutenants with the energy of mortal souls and make them unstoppable? No... he fears what will happen if another dovah should enter that realm while he is there... that his very lieutenants might dispose of him and take his place! The portal to Sovngarde is both his strength - and his weakness."

"Interesting news indeed," Paarthurnax rumbled. "We will need to interrogate one such as Odahviing to confirm this, and find out how this thing is done. Perhaps... the Hofkahsejun," he continued slowly. "The palace in Whiterun... Dragonsreach. It was originally built to house a captive dovah."

"I know this," Fahdonmul snarled bitterly. "They have the skull of Numinex mounted on the wall like a hunting trophy. Filthy dovahkriivaanne... I was hard-pressed to contain my wrath when I visited the Jarl in his greathall, and saw that."

"Indeed," Paarthurnax sighed. "But the present Jarl is not responsible for the atrocity of a predecessor long since turned to dust. If you can convince him of the need, you may be able to summon Odahviing there, trap him, and then... 'convince' him to betray Alduin. You are the Jarl's Thane there, are you not...?"

"Um," Fahdonmul said, looking embarrassed. "I was. We have had a falling out. Thalmor agents roam his lands with impunity, taking prisoners to be tortured and hanged. I have put many of their death squads to death and freed their prisoners.
"And for these acts of vigilantism, I have earned a large bounty on my head in the Jarl's hold. If I still hold a title, I am a renegade outlaw Thane who has arguably violated the White-Gold Concordat, and this will not help negotiations."

"You could just pay off the bounty," Paarthurnax pointed out.

"It is a matter of principle!" Fahdonmul insisted. "Friend to mortals I may be, but I am still a dovah - proud and stubborn. Why should I pay gold for aiding mortals against Thalmor cruelty? There is no honour in what they do, and the Jarl should be paying me for ridding his lands of their evil!"

"Besides," he added grimly, "This... disagreement with the Jarl has happened with him thinking me a kaaz Dragonborn - a mortal Khajiit with the soul of a dovah. When he realises that I have the body of a dovah also... I could end up in the trap myself - or as likely as not, mounted on the wall beside Numinex."

"I agree," Sweet-Roll-Devour said, looking disgusted. "Mortals are cruel and treacherous. If you trap Odahviing there, the Jarl will see him as a prize... another dragon head to decorate his hall with!
"Supposing you can placate the Jarl, how can we seriously expect the trap to still work?! The Old One has been teaching me the history I have missed during the long sleep of death, and if I understand correctly, four thousand years have passed since poor Numinex was captured! The wood will have succumbed to woodworm, the metals corroded to nothing in the passing of whole eras!
"And even if they have meticulously restored it for over a hundred generations, it has been, what...? Almost seven centuries since our kind was considered extinct... they will have no idea how to use the thing properly, even if they have been re-enacting Numinex' capture or something as a ceremonial event."

"As a plan, it has some weaknesses," Paarthurnax admitted. "But it is what I would have told the Dragonborn... and it may have worked better for such a one. Someone closer to the mortal mindset might have been able to make it work.
"Certainly, a true Dragonborn would be better able to treat with the Jarl, the sight of a murdered dovah's skull being far less offensive than to one who has suffered millennia of persecution."

"I remember Odahviing was headstrong," Fahdonmul said. "I doubt his little-death has changed that attitude. By your leave, I will challenge him to a duel on this very mountain, Old One. I have little doubt he will accept."