Chapter IV
The morning had finally arrived in Winterhold. For Tam however, it had been far from a restful night, and she knew it certainly couldn't have been for Valerie or Rontag. At least for an hour after they had both gone to bed.
As she stepped out her room into the small living area, that included the fire and a small wooden table, she was met by the rather happy looking couple.
"Good morning Taemwyn," Valerie greeted joyfully. "You look rather tired this morning," she said, noticing the Altmer's red, sleep deprived eyes.
"I would be surprised if anyone in Winterhold got any sleep last night, with the amount of noise the two of you were making."
Valerie went bright red, while Rontag bit his lower lip, looking away sheepishly.
"Sorry," Valerie apologised. "We both had a little too much to drink."
Tam seated herself down at the table, after grabbing some bread from the breadbox. "I was resting peacefully until you two went to bed. Then after you'd both finished your 'fun', I couldn't get back to sleep."
"Should we hold off the trip to get those sabre cats till tomorrow?" Rontag asked them.
"I think we need to all be fully rested and ready," Tam said. "Sabre cats are nasty bastards on their worst day. We need to be alert, we need to all be awake."
Rontag more than happily agreed. "You're right, and I do seem to be suffering from a mild headache."
Valerie put her arm around him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You've got a hangover from all that ale."
"I don't get hangovers," he protested. "It's just a slight headache."
"I blame that weak, bland Hammerfell ale," she joked.
He smiled wistfully. "I always told Doran the same thing."
Tam took a large bite out of her bread, as the two Nords gave each other a long hug. They both missed their lost friends, and Rontag seemed to be excepting his feelings on Doran's death now, instead of hiding from them.
Tam swallowed the chewed food. "I was just thinking. Since we're going to be heading into the frozen tundra, we could maybe find someone else willing to come along. A hired body, working as reinforcement in case things don't go quite to plan."
Rontag snorted. "Worried about some cats?"
"Don't underestimate a sabre cat," Valerie warned her husband. "They're vicious things. And fast."
Tam agreed. "That and there might be three of them, from what I was told." She quickly took another bite of her bread and ate it before continuing on. "We're not hunting deer here, these things are nasty."
Valerie nodded. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. Do you have anyone in mind?"
Tam regarded the two for a moment before responding. There was a real chance they would refuse her suggestion. "Well a couple of times while I've been at the inn, one of those mages from the college has come in."
Rontag waved his arms and shook his head vehemently. "No!" he uttered. "By Ysmir's beard, absolutely not!"
Valerie didn't say anything, she just remained quiet. Silently anticipating who exactly the Altmer had in mind.
"Why not?" Tam asked him. "Surely when you were in the Legion fighting the war, you fought alongside mages?"
He nodded. "From my experience, it's more like 'fighting far behind us.' They hang back away from the front lines and let the swordsman take the blade to the gut." He looked over at his wife for confirmation. When he didn't get any, he pointed to her side. "You were run through with a sword, while those mages stood out of harms way, casting their tricks."
Once again she didn't speak, she just shrugged.
Tam dismissed his comment. "Considering magic is most effective when used at range, then of course they stayed back. Your argument is invalid."
"I don't care. The folks around here don't trust those mages, and for good reason."
"Unreasonable reasons are not reasonable," Tam told him.
"What?" he asked confused by her odd wording. "Speak Cyrodilic woman!"
"Suffice to say, we still have yet to hear Valerie's take on this."
Valerie shrugged once more. "I don't really have an opinion."
"You must have?" Rontag urged. "Do you really want a mage throwing fire balls everywhere, while we're trying to hunt dangerous animals?"
"It might be good to have an extra body," his wife said after a moment's pause.
"I thought you were smart when it came to those magic folk. What happened?" Rontag questioned. "Magic users can't be trusted, not out here anyway. You know that."
"No I don't know that," his wife shot back.
"Name one person who flung magic about that was even remotely trustworthy?" he asked.
"Magoza," Valerie said quietly as she rose up slowly from her chair.
"I didn't mean that," Rontag said quickly, trying in vain to take it back.
"I'm going for some air," Valerie said before leaving, closing the door gently behind her.
Rontag glared at Tam. "This is your fault elf!" he uttered angrily, as he rose up and barged his bedroom door open, slamming it shut with a hefty thump.
"Great, just great!" Tam said in frustration. She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.
Today felt like it was going to be a long day. She found that she preferred the two when they were both drunk, rude, and giggly.
The hammer struck the metal once again, as the Dunmer farmer Darovin, tried to make the blade piece for the hoe. He never had been very good at it, but he always managed to make do. Sometimes he even managed to make a single piece before nightfall. Unfortunately, today wasn't looking like one of those days.
He gripped the metal with the long tongs and once again dipped it into the forge. He pulled the metal out, hammering at the molten iron, hoping he could get it into shape.
The Dunmer paused briefly, wiping sweat off of his brow. That's when he saw young Magoza, stood staring at him from across the small cobbled yard from near the farmhouse.
He smiled. "Hello there, anything the matter?"
The young Orc slowly walked towards him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but-" she paused, uncertain how to proceed with what she wanted to tell him.
"Go on, I don't mind."
"You're doing it wrong."
Darovin let out a small chuckle. "I know," he said being honest, with not only the Orc but himself. "I have to be good at almost everything 'round here. The price I pay, is that I'm a master of pretty much nothing."
Magoza halted only a few paces from the forge. "I know a thing or two about smithing odd bits. While my mother did a lot of odd jobs, like collecting herbs for the stronghold's wise woman, her main role was that she worked the forge. It's customary for all Orc's to learn how to smith, especially the women, and I enjoyed my mother's company and spent quite a bit of time there."
"I think this might be a bit different from smithing warhammers," he joked.
"Well, strongholds are generally self-sustaining, so the smith was expected to be able to make anything, from nails and brackets to weapons and armour. I know a thing or two, even though I'm nowhere near as good as my mother was."
While Darovin knew only a little about the young Orc's history, he did know enough to know memories of it upset her. When she talked about the Stronghold, and her mother in particular, a deeply sad expression would always cross her face. While he wanted to know what had happened to her, he also didn't want to pry into her history. It had clearly caused her torment and heartbreak.
He waved her over to the anvil. "Come on then, let's see ya give this a go."
Magoza stepped over to him, and he passed her the hammer and tongs, taking a step back to watch her handiwork. Immediately she began to work the metal, gripping the hammer tightly as she beat the metal into shape, far better than he ever could.
Five hours later she had made two shapely hoe blades, which he promptly fitted to the long wooden handles. Darovin quickly tested them by uprooting some weeds. Much to his surprise, the blade slid cleanly into the hard soil, and he was able to uproot them far easier than he had expected.
He smiled at Magoza. "Looks like we found ya a job."
She returned his smile. "Thank you."
Pleased with how well they had turned out, he placed them in the large tool shed, before both he and Magoza walked over to the large farmhouse.
As they approached the front door, they were both treated to the delightful smell of well made broth.
"Everything going well outside?" Llandri asked as they stepped through the door, into the kitchen. She was looming over the large pot, stirring the broth, her bluish-grey skin washed orange by the glow of the large kitchen fireplace.
Darovin turned and rubbed his hand through Magoza's hair, messing it. "Looks like we found someone who can make bits and bobs for us at the old forge."
The young Orc quickly tried to tidy her ruffled hair back into order, but gave up after a few strands near her right ear refused to go down.
"So, young Magoza is good at smithing?" Llandri asked.
"Yep, I just wish she'd said something sooner."
Magoza grimaced. "I didn't want to be rude, you've been nice to me, I didn't want to insult your skills at anything."
Darovin let out a laugh. "I insult meself with me skill everyday. Ya don't have to worry 'bout it."
"Well the cooking is certainly better than what it was back at the stronghold where I grew up," Magoza told them. "Usually just ate fox everyday."
"I'm glad," Llandri said pleased to hear it. "I do try me best. Now can someone go fetch Brendarr. He's at the guar stable."
"I'll do it," Magoza said.
"No, ya sit yerself down," Darovin told her. "I'll go an' fetch him."
"Okay."
Darovin left the farmhouse, and made his way across the courtyard and along the dirt pathway, over to the stable. Inside, he saw Brendarr, stood patting the guar on its large scaly bulbous snout. He turned to his father with a scowl.
"Everything okay?" Darovin asked.
"I guess."
"Ya don't look okay, is something the matter?"
Brendarr turned back to the guar. "I see you've been spending time with that n'wah."
Darovin sighed. "I don't see whatcha problem is with her?" he said. "She's a good worker, and doesn't ask for much in return."
"We don't need her here. We were doing fine before."
"No we weren't," Darovin told his son. "With her help, we can all spend more time on actually dealing with the crops. There's so much to do, and three people can't cope. Besides, I found her a job. It turns out she's pretty good at the anvil."
"There's something else she's stolen from ya," his son said, stroking the guar's snout.
"More like saved me from," he replied. "I can now spend time being an actual farmer, rather than trying to make stuff."
"Sure."
"Give her a chance."
"I don't like her."
"By the wrath of Azura, boy!" Darovin exclaimed. "She's not yer replacement, if that's what ya think!?"
"I dunno what to think."
"You're nearly eighteen years old, Brendarr," his father pointed out. "Ya need to act like it."
"I'm sorry, it's just that." He paused. "I dunno, perhaps I am being stupid."
"Yer our son, Brendarr, and you'll always be our son. Both me and your mother love ya very much. Don't ever forget that."
Brendarr turned gave his father a hug. "It's just that yer spending a lot of time with her."
"She still needs a lot of training, son. If you weren't so nasty to her, then I'd have ya show her how to do stuff 'round the farm, such as care for the guar. But you can be really hostile towards her."
"Sorry father."
"Ya should be apologizing to her."
"I dunno if I can."
Darovin nodded slowly. "Give it time, son," he said. "Now, let's just get inside. Dinner is ready."
The two of them headed back to the farmhouse. Soon they were all sitting around the kitchen table, eating a bowlful of the broth.
"How is the guar?" Llandri asked her son, before putting a spoonful of the broth into her mouth.
"Fine," Brendarr responded.
"That's good, ya really do a good job of keeping him well fed."
Brendarr slurped his broth. "Thanks mother," he said after swallowing the vegetable filled liquid down.
"We found Magoza here a job," Llandri told him.
"Yes I know, at the forge."
"Turns out she's pretty good at it."
"Sure," he replied with disinterest.
They all finished their dinner, and Magoza helped Llandri clean the bowls by taking them out by the well pump. They hand pumped a small amount of water into a bucket and rinsed the copper bowls clean.
Satisfied with their appearance, they took the dishes inside, and placed them on briefly on mantle piece over the fire to dry before putting them away in the cupboards.
With dinner dealt with, they all began their afternoon chores. Those chores involved dealing with pests, such as slugs and other such nuisances, that liked to eat their precious few crops. They did this by using a special poison Llandri had perfected over the years, that killed the pests while leaving the plants not only unaffected, but perfectly safe to eat.
That done, they gathered some more water from the hand pump, giving the precious liquid to the crops that looked like they might actually make it through to harvest.
Valerie had spent morning sitting in The Frozen Hearth inn, getting a few drinks down her neck. She tried to pace herself, as the thought of the drunkard Fultheim, back in the Nightgate inn, echoed unpleasantly through her mind. The memory of how he just sat there by the bar, drinking his sorrows away. She didn't want that to happen to her, but there was a strange comfort from the drink that simply couldn't be found anywhere else.
The Nord pushed the half full tankard away, not wanting it any more. She stood up suddenly, and made her way out into the cold, snow-covered street beyond.
Drinking would do her no good, and she knew it. She had needed the coin she'd just wasted on the drinks of mead and ale, on fixing some of the leaks that plagued their house's roof. Now it would have to wait another few weeks longer.
Of course, there was the trip they were supposed to be going on tomorrow, to kill those sabre cats. Right now however, she wasn't sure if she could go through with it. They'd have to be working as a team, and at this moment she didn't want to be around her husband, let alone have to watch out for him.
Then there was Tam. Valerie felt regretful that she was forced to live through their arguments as of late. She'd had a hard life the past few years, and she deserved better than listening to their bickering.
Valerie knew what the problem was. It was her inability to get over Magoza's death, and it was slowly driving her insane. She knew that she should return home and try to make amends to Rontag, but she felt like she just couldn't face him right now. So instead, she stood there in the middle of the snow-covered street staring down at the barren, white wilderness beyond.
"I am such an idiot," she said quietly to herself. She risked pushing her husband away with every argument, and after spending so long wishing he was alive and with her again, it felt like she was going backwards.
But it wasn't just about her. Here she was selfishly thinking of her own loss, when Rontag had lost his best friend. She knew she should be more empathetic towards him because of it, and it made her feel guilty. She still needed time. She just hoped that by tomorrow, that they had come to some sort of understanding.
Slowly she turned around and headed back into the inn. She had no intention of drinking any more, instead she planned to perhaps quietly sit there, listening to the other patron's conversations. She liked doing that, there was something serene and relaxing about hearing about other people's joys and woes.
After all the day's farm chores had been completed, and all the tools locked away in the shed. The Karo family and Magoza, headed inside the farmhouse for supper and a quiet evening.
All four of them, Magoza, Darovin, Llandri and Brendarr, were all sitting by the table. The table itself was illuminated in the darkness primarily by the fire, complimented by the two small lanterns that hung at the other side of the large room, by the door that led out to the stairwell up to the bedrooms.
Magoza, who was feeling rather curious about Darovin and Llandri, wanted to know how the two Dunmer had met. They clearly loved each other deeply, more so than she thought possible. Magoza wanted to know how they had come to love each other as much as they clearly did.
The two were more than happy to share the story, however Brendarr didn't want to hear it, as he had heard the tale many times before. He said goodnight, and went to bed.
Darovin put an iron kettle of water, on a small stand that lay over the fire, next to the huge cauldron that contained the broth that was constantly on heat over the winter. He sat back down at the table, and began to tell the requested story. "Back when I was much younger, I left our rather prosperous farm to see the lands of Morrowind. It didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped, as I soon found meself with little coin. I ended up in a city called Windhelm over the border in Skyrim. Horrible place, never want to see it ever again. Anyway, I joined the mostly Dunmer crew of a fishing ship out of Windhelm, called The Lucky Catch. It had been about a year when our Captain heard that Raven Rock, the town on the island of Solstheim needed a good fishing ship, so we headed there. I tell ya, it was probably the best decision the captain made." The Dunmer stopped talking, as the iron kettle began to whistle.
Darovin rose up to take the kettle off the stand, wrapping a cloth around its handle to avoid burning himself. He took it and poured the boiling water into an old pot.
He turned to Magoza. "I know, Llandri wants some tea, but do ya want some?" he asked. "It's canis root tea, made from some of our very own leaves."
"Please," the young Orsimer replied with a smile.
"Great," Darovin said, turning back to his wife. "Perhaps ya should carry on telling the story, while I sort the tea out," he suggested.
Llandri continued on eagerly. "At the time I were working as a barmaid at the Raven Rock tavern. When The Lucky Catch made port for the first time, they all got drunk and had a good time. All except Darovin that is, who sat on a stool by the bar and drunk very little."
Darovin explained after pouring the tea into three old mugs. "Having gone through a point where I had no coin at all to me name. Well, it made me a bit of a hoarder." He passed one mug of tea to Llandri, and the other to Magoza, both giving him their thanks for the drink. He inhaled the steam that emanated from his mug deeply, before he took a sip. "In fact, one o' the reasons I eventually left the The Lucky Catch, was because the other crewmen kept trying to rob some of the accumulated wealth from me."
His wife chuckled. "Yes, well back to that night when ya were spending very little. We started to chat a bit. I dunno what it was about when we started, but I know it eventually turned to him talking about how he was starting to miss the farm."
"I did?" he asked. "I can't recall."
"Yes ya did. I remember because I'd never been to the mainland at that point. I'd grown up in Raven Rock, and lived there me whole life." She inhaled the aroma of the tea before she took a long slow sip. "Mmmnn, that's good." She continued on, "My horizon had always been marred by the giant plume of smoke and ash that constantly spewed out of the maw of Red Mountain. I had always wanted to visit the mainland, not the island of Vvardenfell, but mainland Morrowind as I'd never seen it."
Darovin nodded. "Every time the ship made port, I would sit and chat to Llandri," he told Magoza. "I always looked forward to it."
"So did I, it was the highlight of me life back then."
"I then decided to leave the The Lucky Catch, and wanted to return home to the farm," Darovin said.
"When he told me he was going to be leaving his ship and the island, I begged him to take me along."
"When I returned home, me folks weren't only happy that I'd come back to them, but that I'd found someone. They wanted me to be wed to her as soon as possible."
"So did I," Llandri said as she put her hand on his. "And I've never regretted that decision since."
"Not even when we have no money and the farm is failing?" Darovin asked her.
"Even now," she confirmed.
Magoza took her first sip of the tea. There was an initial blandness to the drink, but the after-taste was quite pleasant. She hadn't quite drunk anything like it.
"How is it?" Llandri asked her. "Nice?"
"It's good," she answered. "Unusual."
"Canis root tea can be an acquired taste," Darovin told her. "There's an initial blandness, but after that you get a nice taste. Try smelling it. It'll give you more of the flavour in the initial sip, rather than having to wait for it."
She lifted the mug up to her nose and inhaled deeply. She took a quick sip, almost spitting it straight out. The taste was a little stronger than she had expected.
Darovin smiled. "An acquired taste," he repeated.
Magoza nodded. "Yes," she said before taking another sip. "I think I'll just drink it normally."
"Yer missing out," Llandri told her, before taking a good sniff of her own tea.
"Maybe I'll get used to it," the Orc told them.
After finishing her mug of tea, Magoza rose up from her chair.
"Goodnight," she said to them.
"See ya in the morning," Llandri said with a small wave.
"Night," Darovin said, before taking another sip of his tea.
Magoza headed upstairs to bed, feeling confident that she had indeed finally found a true home.
Updated 31/03/2014