Siona dug at the earth with cheerful determination, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She looked up at the Redguard standing by. "How much deeper do you want the pit, Ennis?"

He glanced over at her. "I think it's about ready, actually." Ennis smiled broadly at her. He had reconnected with his homeland over a pint of mead at the Frostfruit, smiling in happiness as Siona had recounted the sights of Hammerfell. Siona leaned on the shovel, exchanging frosty glances with Lemkil, who had also helped with the digging of the bonfire pit.

It was Morndas, the 1st of Morning Star and the day of the New Life Festival. Here in Rorikstead, there would be a great bonfire, for the first time. Before then, the inhabitants of Rorikstead would gather within the Frostfruit Inn to partake in the free ale, and jolliness would abound, even from Reldith, who found anything but farming to be a waste. However, the change was prompted by Siona's suggestion, and welcomed by everyone save Lemkil, who was still nursing a grudge.

Erik had resigned himself to staying in Rorikstead, though it pained him to do so. He had realized that he would never be able to afford the armor, and his father probably couldn't bear to support the inn on his own. Erik had thus been depressed over the past few days, and Siona was worried about him.

She glanced over at where her red headed friend was viciously chopping wood, each axe fall executed with a vicious hack. Chewing her lip, she placed the shovel on the ground and walked over to the woodpile, picking up an armful.

"So are you excited for the bonfire tonight?" she asked, trying to balance the load in her arms. Erik looked up at her, a vague expression of bitter disappointment on his face.

"Yes, I suppose," he muttered, before heaving the axe to let it fall with a loud clunk. Siona's lips pursed worriedly.

"Do you want to help me set it up?" She glanced at the very large pile of wood – it would probably last the whole town the entire winter. "I'm sure you've chopped enough."

Erik dropped the axe and scooped up the wood in his arms, trudging over to the bonfire pit. Siona sighed and followed, following his lead silently as they prepared for the evening.

. . .

When the sun had set over the fields, the people of Rorikstead were merrily celebrating, adults with ale, and Sissel and Britte with sweetrolls and honey nut treats, made especially by Mralki. They sat around the bonfire, laughing and singing along to the mediocre music playing of Ennis on a battered red lute, accompanied by the normally stern and disciplined Reldith drumming along on an upturned pot. A few hunters from nearby parties had come to Rorikstead, eager to join in the celebrations.

The only sour one was Lemkil, sitting on a stump and staring at the contents of his weather-beaten tankard. Every once in a while he would snap at a passing reveler, much like a sorry, mangy dog. Rorik and Jouane Manette could be seeing watching him carefully, and it was murmured that no one would want to be in the shoes of poor Britte or Sissel when Lemkil had a hangover.

Erik busily set himself to asking the hunters of their travels. One, a beautifully Nord, stated that she was from Markarth, watching Erik under her thick eyelashes. He quickly sat her down and began asking questions, his expression rapt as she recounted descriptions of the stone city of Dwemer make, twirling a stray bit of brown hair around one finger.

Siona balanced the sleeping Sissel on her lap as she hummed a lullaby. It was the same one her mother had sung to her when she was a child, and the one she had sung to her baby sister. Malexa would have been fifteen, now, she thought sorrowfully. She attempted to wipe off the sticky mess left behind by Sissel's half eaten sweetroll, but to no avail.

"Are you enjoying your New Life Festival here in Skyrim?" a voice asked from above.

Siona looked up at Mralki, who was wiping out a mug with a clean rag. He placed it on the table they had moved out to the field to hold the ale. Sitting down beside her on the log, he raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Yes, I have to say I am," she said after a moment. She chuckled. "It's actually the first time I've celebrated it in about five years, since I left Stros M'Kai."

"Really, now? You were too busy?"

Siona shrugged with a smile. "There was an entire countryside to explore. I thought festivals were a waste, with so much land to see, and so many things to do." She shifted Sissel carefully. The young brunette child mumbled to herself before her breathing evened out again. Siona looked up at Mralki. "When you're fighting for your life, festivals aren't always the first thing on your mind."

"Adventuring is a dangerous thing," Mralki said matter-of-factly. Siona looked up at him and sighed.

"It is to a point. But it's a good thing. A life without danger isn't really a life at all." She tilted her head to look at Mralki. "Before you were an innkeeper, what did you do?"

Mralki blinked. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know." She lifted a mug of water to her mouth, trying her best not to watch his expression closely.

He gazed at her before opening his mouth. "I travelled with a group of vigilantes. We routed out bandits and their camps all along Whiterun Hold and the Reach." He smiled nostalgically. "My best friend Arnleif and I were the terror of rogues around.

"Arnleif, that old fool. He was a man by the time I joined, had a wife and daughter back in Markarth." He shook his head. "Finally settled down and got a store after his fifth child, the only boy! He was happier than a horker in the water." Mralki was lost in his memories. "Markarth was where I met my Runa. She was working for some hag of a woman at an apothecary's shop. She had hair like fire…" he said wistfully.

"I gave up my bandit chasing for her. Arnleif practically laughed me out of the tavern when I told him, but understood, thankfully.

"The old man died about twenty years ago, when Erik was about five." Mralki stared into the bonfire. Suddenly, the merriment surrounding them seemed distant. "Erik's all I have of my Runa. She died in childbirth…" He was quiet for a moment. "I tried to give him the best, keep him safe, and let him have a good life. There are not many happy people in Rorikstead, and I know it." He sighed.

"I've been to Markarth, and Whiterun, and Windhelm. I've gone into the haunted cairns that bandits laid their camps in, and I have more scars on my backside than I care to count. If you told me then that the best years of my life were going to be when I was running an inn in some backwoods farming town, I would have laughed at you and then I would have split you down the middle. But now my sword is broken, and my heart's not in the adventuring anymore."

Mralki and Siona sat side quietly side by side, staring into the flickering flames that seemed to beckon to the sky. The chatter didn't stop, but it seemed muted and far away, rather than a few feet from the two.

"I think you should let Erik go adventuring," Siona said after a moment. Mralki's head swiveled to stare at the Redguard.

"My son's been talking to you, hasn't he?" he asked suspiciously.

"He didn't have to," she replied, her gaze trained on the sky. "Have you noticed the way that he's been acting lately?"

Mralki hesitated, glancing at his son, who was still listening to the beautiful hunter intently. "He's been a bit depressed," he admitted.

"He's resigned himself to staying here," she said in a low voice. "And the thought that he'll never see the world around him makes him feel empty."

The innkeeper paused, scratching his eyebrow. "The world is a dangerous place…" he said uncertainly.

"The same world you risked your life in when you were young," Sonia reminded him, turning her head to look at the man. "I promise you, Erik is smart. He's not foolish or prideful enough to get himself into more danger than he can handle."

Mralki paused and sighed. "You're right, you know. I just…he would need to be outfitted with armor, and a weapon, and…we could go all the way to Whiterun, but…"

Siona held up a hand. "Say no more." She passed Sissel to Mralki and hurried inside the inn, returning a few moments later with a small sack. She passed it to Mralki, and took back Sissel, who nuzzled her still sticky face into the Redguard's shoulder.

Mralki opened the pouch and stared at the glittering gold. "Where did you get this?" he whispered, hushed. Siona smiled and put a finger to her lips.

"That's my secret. But I assure you, it's all gotten honestly."

"I can't accept this, especially from a stranger!" Mralki began to push the sack back at Siona, but she placed a callused hand over his and returned the gesture.

"I'm your friend, sir," she said quietly. "And your son's. And if that's not enough, I will personally watch over your inn for you while you go to Whiterun with him. I'll even fix some of the things I've heard you complaining about to Erik."

The top of Mralki's head flamed up, but he frowned. "How can I trust you, though? You've only been in town for five days."

"I swear on the Nine Divines," she said quietly. "And on the graves of my family in Stros M'Kai."

Mralki looked at her, studying her face carefully. "Alright," he stated after a moment. "I'll tell Erik that we're heading out for Whiterun tomorrow. And I'll leave you a list of things to do around here, and when I come back, I expect them all to be done. If they're not, you'll have to pay me extra for the hassle."

Siona's grin seemed brighter than the bonfire. "Thank you, sir, on behalf of your son. You won't regret it." She paused, and then beamed. "He's a fine young man."

"I certainly like to think so. Now, if you'll excuse me, miss." Mralki stood and walked over to Erik, placing a hand on his shoulder. Siona watched through the shimmering air, arms around Sissel, as Erik's face went from concern to shock to exuberant. Siona could hear his whoop of joy over the sound of the dusty lute, and laughed.

Sissel awoke and yawned. "Miss Siona?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, Sissel?"

"I'm going home, to bed." The little girl clambered off of Siona's lap and stood on shaky legs.

"You do that, little one." Siona reached out and squeezed the child's hand before Sissel stumbled away towards her house. Siona watched her go, never taking her eyes away until the door was shut behind her.

Two strong arms suddenly lifted her up and into the air, squeezing her to a burly chest. She gasped as she went around in a dizzy circle before being put back on the ground.

Erik's smiling face greeted her, his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you!" he crowed. "I know my father would never have agreed to let me go if it wasn't for you." His smile was infectious as he practically danced where he stood, feet twitching. "I could kiss you right now! Just, thank you, Siona, thank you so much!" He squeezed her again – she was certain her lungs would explode – before releasing her and heading off towards the inn.

She smiled as he left, running a hand through her thick, short hair. New Life Festival indeed. Aptly named, for Erik today.