"This just keeps getting better, and better." Embla sighed in resigned exasperation, as she shut the door behind her. Closing her in the dimly lit cabin with a suddenly grim faced foreigner.
She was feeling pretty grim herself. It looked like she wouldn't be getting those answers she wanted any time soon.
Walking over to the rumpled bed he'd been using, she set down her load of clothing and armor; keeping a surreptitious eye on the stranger. The awkward meeting, and hilarious fumbling of earlier had relieved her suspicions somewhat; but that, in no way, meant she trusted him.
Embla faced him and gestured casually to the pile of garments.
"Clo~thes." She said slowly, carefully enunciating the word for him, and feeling a bit foolish for doing so.
Damn n'wah!
Despite her aggravation her lips twitched, and she fought a smile, as she saw him still standing before the hearth with that large squared shield; guarding his loins like some virgin monk of Arkay, visiting a temple of Dibella.
She saw no reason for his modesty. Nords were a practical race, and nudity was not something her people found shameful. Neither did he have any reason to feel ashamed. He was quite attractive. With the hard muscular build of a seasoned warrior and the look of a man who had seen his fair share of strife and conflict. Though he was hunched a bit over the shield and shadowed with the hearth's light at his back, she remembered well his features from bathing him and tending to his wounds earlier.
Once she had washed away the gore and sweat that had practically covered him from head to toe, she'd found a man that seemed practically gilded in gold, from the thick dark honey blonde hair on his head to the slightly sun kissed complexion of his skin. Out of curiosity she had peeled back his eyelids to find that even his eyes had a warm amber sheen. An unusual combination, for most Nords had hair of light blonde or shades of red, with blue eyes; and fairly pale skin on top of that. Such exotic coloring should have clued her in to his foreign origins, but she had figured him for an Imperial or Breton; although it might have been an unusual look for them as well, as those she had met were dark haired and short by Nord standards. This man, on the other hand, was fairly tall; at least a hand taller than Embla herself. So he could be Nord, or someone of mixed heritage. Though, when thinking on it, she had seen some Altmer who had similar golden coloring, and were as tall as any Nord; but that seemed his only likeness to those cursed Mer, for he was most definitely human.
Shoving the question of his origins aside she had continued examining him for any injuries she might have missed, and she had seen that he was no stranger to battle. Scars marred the smooth, hard (and surprisingly hairless) flesh of his chest and abdomen. Some old, like what looked to have been deep cut from sword or dagger along his right side, just above his hip bone. Some more resent, as with the ones she had inexpertly healed in her rush to stop his bleeding. His hands were large, scarred and callused from wielding both sword and shield in combat. He had lines of care upon his brow and wariness around his eyes, and even unconscious his mouth was cast downward and his face wore an expression of concern. As though, even in his dreams he found no escape from harsh reality.
Embla had met many men with such a war hardened look about them. Most of them mercenaries or Imperial soldiers, thrust into battle after battle for either coin or the misguided honor of Emperor and country. With his short cropped hair and the light stubble of one usually clean shaven, Embla thought it possible that he was a soldier; seeing as they were groomed in a similar fashion. Plus his legs were strong and his feet callused as one might expect of someone who traveled regularly, and on foot.
Looking back now at all her conjectures, she was frustrated by the fact that she couldn't even ask him even the simplest of questions. Never had she met someone who could not speak common Tamrielic. All races of Tamriel knew the standard tongue, even the Altmer of the Aldmeri Dominion learned the heathen language of the Empire. It was standard in all trade and diplomacy. It seemed almost impossible for someone to be able to survive without even a rudimentary understanding of the Imperial vernacular.
Embla stared hard at the stranger for a good long time, until he began shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny.
He was far from home, indeed.
"Clothes." She said again, this time clipped and short with a pointed finger at said articles.
Without further comment, she stepped purposefully towards the man. Or rather, towards the hearth directly behind him. She watched as he tensed at her approach, and color crept up his neck at her proximity. Embla casually brushed past him, kneeling down to take up the discarded cooking utensil, and watched as he sidled nervously away. Keeping his shielded front facing her the entire time.
"Ah... Taip, drabužiai ... ačiū." He babbled haltingly, as he shuffled backwards towards the bed and her offering.
Pleased that he had at least understood that much, she turned her back to him to give him some privacy as she gathered up spoon and bowl and began dishing out a large helping of rabbit stew. Listening intently as she heard the thump of his shield hitting the floor and the quick rustling sounds as he rushed to dress himself while she wasn't looking.
Embla had to again stifle her amusement at his antics, and had to bite her lip to keep the smile from her face as she turned to place the bowl on the small round table close by the fire. She pulled out a chair and looked over to him as he was just pulling down the woolen tunic she had brought for him over his abdomen. Now that he was wearing pants, he seemed more self assured, standing up straight with shoulders back as his eyes followed her every move. With an approving nod she gestured to the chair before moving about the cupboards and shelves to gather ale and bread, setting them down beside his bowl.
He watched her silently, an unreadable expression on his face, as she stilled and waited patiently for him to sit and accept her hospitality.
Slowly, holding her gaze, his head dipped in a shallow bow before walking stiffly to the table and sitting down. He only had to look up slightly from his seated position to meet her eyes, his expression serious and intent.
"Ačiū." He said slowly.
He'd said that before, she realized, and looking into his somber amber colored eyes she realized he was saying "thank you".
"You are welcome." She told him just as seriously. Taking a deep breath she raised a hand to rest lightly upon his shoulder. Embla lifted her free hand to point at her chest and regarded him expectantly as she said slowly and very simply:
"Embla"
She watched as understanding crossed his features, and his sober demeanor melted away before her eyes as he smiled in a lopsided fashion she found instantly endearing. His brow smoothed and relaxed and his eyes narrowed slightly as he smiled, revealing the deep laugh lines at their corners. Indicating that he was one who smiled often.
"Embla" He repeated slowly. "Ačiū Embla."
He brought up one of his own hands to point at himself and his lips twitched in a self deprecating expression.
"Alistair" He said just as simply and slowly. His gaze never leaving hers, and for a moment she felt caught in their golden depths as a strange feeling of significance seemed to attach itself to this moment in time.
But the feeling dissipated quickly, and Embla squeezed his shoulder lightly in acknowledgement; giving him her own slow warm smile in return.
"Alistair"
Night had settled fully upon the small mining settlement of Karthwasten by the time Embla left Alistair to rest. Offering him some privacy to wash up and attend to personal business. She giggled in remembering the look of horrified embarrassment when she had pointed out the chamber pot that had been placed under his bed.
Embla awkwardly shut the cabin's door behind her as she juggled an armload of stew, bread and a bottle of alto wine. She had already shared a meal with Alistair at his insistence, or what she assumed was an invitation to do so by his enthusiastic gesticulations; but the food was not for herself.
Stepping to the right of the cabins entry, she followed the railed porch to a broad covered deck that sat along the entire side of the cabin, and was open on all three sides to provide a view of both the mine and the road leading into the settlement. A vast portion of the deck was taken up by a long wooden table in the middle, that had bench seating on both sides.
Sitting at the table, surrounded by empty ink bottles, papers, ore samples and a multitude of slowly melting candles was Ainethach. A dark haired Breton of middling age with a receding hairline, and an elaborately trimmed pair of mutton chops. His nose was red from the cold, though he was dressed in fine thick quilted robes, wrapped in a heavy fur-lined cloak and sat close to a brightly glowing brazier.
"Something to warm those weak Breton insides, my friend?" Embla joked in greeting.
Ainethach sat up from his paperwork, laying down his quill with a tired smile of welcome as she approached and set the food before him; pushing papers and silver ore aside to make space before taking a seat across from him. She made a show of throwing off her own cloak (new, as her last one was soiled beyond recovery), and rolling up her sleeves.
"I thank you Embla. As always, it is a pleasure to eat a meal not of my own making." He exclaimed with a good-natured smile. Promptly uncorking the wine and taking a long swallow straight from the bottle before offering it back to her. "And my weak insides also thank you for the wine!"
"It's the least I can do when you've offered up your home to me and my injured friend." She nodded her thanks as she took the bottle for her own swig of the tart, sweet white wine.
Ainethach cast her a curious look as he took up his spoon in one hand and hunk of crusty bread in the other.
"Friend now, is he? I thought you said you'd found him bloodied and freezing along the cliffs of the Druadach highlands just Northeast of here." His brow arched questioningly at her before he dug into his meal.
Embla grunted, taking another drink of wine and passing it back to Ainethach.
"I feel we'll get on as well." She replied offhandedly, leaning forward and resting her folded arms on the table.
"Oh? Is he awake?" At Embla's nod his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Already? From the look of him, when you'd brought him in last night, I'd have figured he'd be out for at least another day."
"I thought so too." Embla frowned. "He's been awake for over an hour now, and walking about on his own."
Even with what little healing magic she had performed on Alistair, it should have taken him at least another day or so before he'd be able to walk as well as he did now.
"An impressively hearty constitution!" Ainethach did look considerably impressed. "Has he said how he ended up so close to the shores of Aetherius? I'll lay my coin on it being those bloody Reachmen." He said sourly.
Embla sighed, lifting a hand to rest her brow heavily upon it.
"Actually, there in lies the problem." She intoned sullenly. "He can't say."
Ainethach paused with a stew soaked chunk of bread halfway to his mouth.
"What do you mean? Are you being purposefully cryptic?" He asked in a deadpan voice. "Has the poor man lost his tongue?"
Her lips quirked at his tone
"No~o." Embla drawled out the word, rolling her eyes. "I mean that he doesn't speak Tamrielic."
This time Ainethach paused in chewing, and gaped at her in shock, showing a disgusting amount of masticated food.
At her look of revulsion he quickly clamped his jaw shut with a snap, snatching up the wine and chugging down a number of swallows to wash down his meal. He purposefully slammed the bottle down loudly on the table and glared at Embla.
"You must be joking." He warned. "Where was the s'wit raised? Under a rock?"
Embla raised a brow mockingly.
"That's funny, coming from someone who makes his living underneath rocks."
"Well, what does he speak then? Bristleback?" Ainethach threw his hands up in exasperation. "Everyone knows the common tongue! That's why it's called common!"
Embla sat up straight setting her arms akimbo as she frowned worriedly at her friend.
"That's just it, Ainethach." She brought up one hand to scrub warily at her face. "I have no idea what language he speaks."
Ainethach settled back down, crossing his arms over his chest regarding her seriously.
"That's disconcerting. A true foreigner then." His brow gathered in concern. "He hasn't done anything unseemly I hope? Was he violent?"
"No, not at all. More the opposite actually. Seems a complete gentleman in fact." She assured him. "A rare thing out here."
"You insult me, Embla." He intoned archly. "You have a perfect gentleman sitting here before you."
Embla gave an unladylike snort, and stood up with a laugh.
She moved to lean against the decks railing, looking out into the night, towards the torch lit entrance of the mine and thinking on the last hour she had spent in the foreigner's... in Alistair's company.
It had been entertaining to say the least.
After they had introduced themselves he had begun shoveling stew into his mouth at an alarming rate. Gesturing and voicing his approval of both food and drink with loud, inappropriate moans and rubbing his belly. After emptying the bowl, he'd handed it back to her motioning towards the pot and back to the bowl.
" Daugiau prašau." He'd said slowly. "Prašau." Which she took to mean he was asking for seconds.
After refilling his bowl, Alistair had resumed wolfing it down as though it was his first. Again, he'd handed it back to her and repeated "Prašau," prettily, with an innocent batting of his eyes.
She'd laughed at his silliness, and again refilled his bowl. Which he'd, again, promptly demolished.
"Prašau."
"Prašau."
"Prašau."
With each refill, Embla's eyes had grown wider, and wider. Until she was gaping slack jawed before a nearly empty pot of stew. Looking over her shoulder at this bottomless pit in the form of a man, she couldn't help but wonder where it all went. She'd never seen a man eat so much!
He had slowed down by that time and was lazily licking the spoon and sopping up whatever dregs he could find at the bottom of the bowl with a chunk of bread. Looking quite content.
That is, until he'd noticed her staring at him in absolute amazement. That was when he had insisted on her eating as well. His face red with embarrassment as he gestured wildly for her to sit down and take her own bowl of stew.
"Atsiprašau!" He'd kept telling her with an apologetic look. Not so much unlike the look of a contrite puppy. And she couldn't help but smile and laugh at his antics.
It was lucky she'd saved enough stew for Ainethach, really. She just hoped that he wouldn't ask for seconds.
Embla chuckled at the memory as she turned to face Ainethach; leaning back against the rail with her arms draped over the sides.
"I'll take him back with me to Markarth." She stated boldly. Making her friend's eyes widen and brows rise in shock.
"Are you sure Embla?" He asked after a moment. Brows snapping back down as he frowned in concern. "You barely know him, and it's not unlike you don't have your own fair share of problems."
"He's harmless, Ainethach." She assured him.
He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, giving her a mocking look that just screamed "Really?" in that snobby Breton tone that he had.
How did he do that?
"Ugh! Okay! I meant that he obviously doesn't mean me any harm. Alright?" She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms defensively as she glared his way.
"If you're sure..." He drew out in a doubtful tone.
Embla sighed and tugged lightly at one of her braids in a frustrated gesture.
"Well, it's the most sensible solution to finding out where he's from and how he got out here, isn't it? There are scholars in the city, and other foreigners he might be able to talk to." She threw a hand up, exasperated. "And I can't leave him out here. He'd starve to death!"
"Huh?" Ainethach gave her a questioning look at that last comment.
"Look, the point is, I saved his life." She said, blandly stating the obvious.
Ainethach cocked that cocky eyebrow at her again, setting her teeth on edge.
"And~" He drew out, waving his hand before him in an encouraging motion.
"And," Embla bit out glaring at him. "I feel a bit responsible for him now. I can't just set him loose, all unprepared. It'd be an absolute waste of all my efforts!"
She, again, crossed her arms and leaned her head back. Staring at the rough hewn beams that supported the covered deck with a contemplative air.
"He can't speak common," She quietly reiterated. "He's obviously lost. If I just send him on his way now he'll wonder aimlessly in the mountains, or get killed by murdering Forsworn, or robbed of what little he has by bandits. Stomped into the ground by ice trolls! Sucked dry by Vampires! Torn apart by Wer-"
"I can see now you're just vomiting random justifications for your decision." Ainethach interjected dryly.
"Shut it."
"Well, when do you and your new helpless friend plan to leave?" He asked in a more serious manner.
"Day after tomorrow, if Alistair feels up to it." Already she was making a mental list of the supplies she would need to pack for the journey home.
Definitely need to double the amount of food.
"Alistair?" Ainethach gave her a curious look. "You've taken to naming strange men you find in the wild now?"
"Pfft! No!" Embla walked back to the table and began gathering up the empty bowl and wine bottle. "He's obviously smart enough to introduce himself. I might be able to teach some basic vocabulary. You know, he might still be awake. You could introduce yourself to him, and work in the comfort and warmth of your own home."
"I wouldn't want to intrude upon your newly budding friendship Em."
"You're ridiculous. Just go to bed, it's getting late."
"I believe I've offered you my bed, sweetling." Ainethach smirked at her teasingly.
"Ugh! I thought you said you were a gentleman."
"You wound me, dear Embla!" He exclaimed with an expression of feigned hurt. Gloved hand clenching over his heart. "I meant that you take my bed and I'll bunk down with the miners. Get your mind out of the midden girl!"
Embla laughed at his teasing, leaning over to playfully bat at his arm; and he in turn mockingly flinched from the blow.
With dishes in hand, Embla turned to head back inside. Just as she was about to turn the corner she stopped to face Ainethach again.
"Thank you, Ainethach. I owe you one." She smiled at him affectionately.
"That's nonsense, and you know it, Em." He scoffed. "After all the years you've kept the Forsworn off my doorstep, and the Silverbloods off my back; I'd say it was about time I returned the favor."
"As I'm heavily invested in your silver mines, I think it's more of a looking out for my own interests."
"So mercenary!" He cried out in a shocked tone.
"You're such a s'wit."
Yes! I've finished the Character intro! Why did it take four chapters?
I kind of enjoyed this one. The best part about doing Elder Scrolls fan fiction is that the world is almost a blank canvas, and I can paint most of the NPCs however I want.
Anyway! Please R&R! You're comments and faves are most definitely what's keeping this story alive.