"When people think of wood elves, they usually think of trees. But not me. I'm a little too embarrassed to say what comes to mind."

We were on the road from Riverwood to Riften. Arriving in Riverwood, we had retired to Delphine's secret headquarters. Yes, she actually had a secret headquarters. I can't make this stuff up people, remember when I said that the truth is stranger than fiction? That's why when you tell what really happened, you seldom, if ever, have to embellish. What the information we had been able to glean from the Thalmor reports told us two things. First, the Thalmor were just as mystified as we were about the dragons. No surprise there. The second thing was that Esbern, an old blade who had been one of the scholars of the organization was still alive and probably hiding in Riften. He might know something about the dragons, and likewise, after he had told the Thalmor everything they wanted to know, they would kill him. We had to get him before the Thalmor did. Of course at this time we had no idea what Jarl Elisif had said at the party and what was now happening in Riften and the Ratway.

"So," continued Sofi looking at me with a bit of an impish smile on her features. "What do you think about when you think of wood elves?"

I pondered for a moment. I was going to tell the truth and damn the consequences because it was something in the long term, Sofi would appreciate.

"I think of you," I replied.

"Are you saying my ears and chin are too long?" was her first response.

"Sofi? If I said you were the most beautiful woman in the world . . ."

"Yes?" she was more than willing to encourage this line of thinking.

"And your ears and chin were as long as a wood elf's . . ." No response. "Wouldn't that simply be one of the reasons why I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"No," she replied. "Because if I had a chin and ears as long as a wood elf's, I couldn't possibly be the most beautiful woman in the world because I wouldn't be looking like me."

"Your methods of reasoning to a conclusion never cease to astound me," I suggested.

"Even though that sounds like a very intellectual compliment why do I keep thinking there's an insult hidden in there somewhere?"

"Just your imagination," I lied.

"So why do wood elves make you think of me then?" Her curiosity was definitely up.

"There were these three wood elf sisters who lived in the docks district of the Imperial City," I began. "And they were all really cute. But Carwen was the cutest of the three. And they worked on and off at our house helping with the cleaning and cooking and stuff. I really wanted to kiss that girl. But she was so cute I was convinced she already had a guy and I couldn't stand the thought of being rejected so I dithered and did nothing, even when she started smiling at me every time I walked by and laughed at all my jokes."

"She sounds like a tramp," was Sofia's suggestion. The jealousy was starting to rise in her, but I plowed on ahead.

"But of course that was when mother started asking me to find a source of nightshade for the Night Mother Ritual and I started refusing and she started putting out the 'guilt' trips because I wasn't willing to work to advance myself. Warned me I would end up a dead in a ditch since Aurelian would find me a threat to his position. So I had to inform my dad what mom was planning and had to leave. So I never got to kiss Carwen."

"Poor baby," suggested Sofia with not so much of a hint of a trace of sympathy.

"Well there I was with Helgen burning around me and I was thinking I was going to die as I was running to the tower. And what kept going through my head was how I never got enough of a nerve to try to have a relationship with Carwen."

Sofia was looking straight ahead and frowning. Her feet started to slap the cobblestones.

"So," I went on. "Nearly a week later, I walk into this stable outside of Whiterun and I see a woman even more beautiful asleep in the hay and once again part of me was saying she was too pretty to be single, but you know? I could still remember that I thought like that with Carwen so I said to myself . . . 'Self? You are not going to let this woman slip you by because you didn't have the nerve.' And so I walked up to her and asked her if I might share her hay pile. And you know who that woman was?"

"You have a lot of nerve suggesting that a tramp inspired you to come up to me in that stable!"

"Sofia, how in oblivion can you be jealous of a woman who I knew before I even knew you? One whom I'll never see again anyway? What is wrong with Carwen?"

"She's a Bosmer tramp!"

"Oh, will you can the Nord racism for a single moment and think about what I'm really saying?"

"Nord Racism? As if that isn't a racist statement right there? Just because I don't like Bosmer, or Altmer, or Dunmer, or Orcs, or Argonians, or Kahjiit, or Bretons, or Imperials . . ." Sofi paused looking at me. I was crossing my arms and shaking my head while trying not to grin. There simply was something funny about her inability to not express vocally what she was thinking. "Damn it, I always end up upsetting someone," she grumbled.

"Allright, hand over your valuables or I'll gut you like a fish!" came a new voice into our general perception.

Sofi and I turned to face the new voice, that being an Argonian bandit.

"Do you mind?" I asked, facing the bandit. "I'm having an intimate loving romantic heart to heart fight with my wife. Besides, we're obviously bards. Do we really look like we have any money on us?"

"Yes," replied the Argonian. "You look like you are lousy with gold. I am not going to ask again . . ."

And he didn't for a single 'Fus Do Rah' from me and Ice Bolt to his head from my darling Sofi sent him flying back fifty feet.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you when you put huge chucks of ice into the skulls of annoying Argonians?" I asked.

"You lie about that all the time," she replied.

I swatted her on the backside for that remark.

"I don't know what gets into you," sighed Sofia.

"Sofi?" I continued. "I simply can not understand why you are so jealous of every single woman that has the singular misfortune to blunder into our lives. Seriously now, a Bosmer maid I happened to know before you? One whom I specifically stated was not as pretty as you? Who's going around proclaiming herself the most beautiful woman in Skyrim? Who has openly argued that there's hardly anyone in Skyrim who would even be worthy to stand against her in a beauty contest? And given that I have no argument with that fact. Given that I for one happen to agree that you are the most beautiful woman in Skyrim, would it not stand to reason that before I met you I simply didn't know any better? Of course I'll be attracted to a Bosmer, I didn't know Sofia!"

"I HATE IT when you get rational on me!" she snapped.

"Sofi Sofi Sofi," I said pulling her into a gentle hug. "Don't you realize that it's not half as important that every guy in Skyrim thinks your drop dead gorgeous as it is that the guy who loves you thinks your drop dead gorgeous?"

"Well yeah," she sighed. "If I had such a guy."

Since I was hugging her, she did not see me look skyward and roll my eyes. You know? It was at this juncture that it dawned on me that she could say these things that had, before we had accidentally ended up married, put me into such an emotional roller coaster. Now, for some reason or another, I could hear these things and it didn't mess me up any more. I wondered about that for years really. And the conclusion I reached is that there's this surety in marriage which you don't find anywhere else. It kind of nails things down in a way that makes it easier to put up with all the lunacy the other person exhibits that would put you on a milk soaked bread diet for the rest of your life if you were still single. She was firmly convinced I would leave her, but I knew she wouldn't leave me. And so it didn't matter that her mouth was forged and locked to the thinking part of her brain. Her entire range of physical gestures said she was going to stay with me until that day when I, not her, threw her over my shoulder and walked away. So while I remained ignorant of this facet of the relationship with her at that juncture, my emotions were not yanking my chain. I was beginning to see some of the humor in the behavior which today enables me to look back and laugh.

"Dibilla?" I silently prayed. "Why did you do this to me? Why did you give me the most beautiful whacked out woman in all of Skyrim for me to fall utterly and entirely in love with?"

"One of these days, Sofi," I began standing back, putting my hands on her shoulders and looking into those deep lovely big baby blue eyes of hers. "I'm going to come up with a way to prove to you that I really do love you and when you realize that it's true, YOU are going to throw the biggest temper tantrum in the world."

"Even if that was the case, which it isn't, you'll never see it," was her defiant answer.

We walked on in silence for a bit. The towers and masts of Riften began to be seen though the trees and shortly thereafter we came up to the north gate.

"Halt," began the guard. "Before you enter, you'll have to pay the visitors tax."

"The what?" I asked. "What is a visitors tax for?"

"For the privilege of entering the city."

"This is such a shakedown!" began Sofia

"Alright alright, keep your voice down, I'll open the gate," grumbled the guard.

And the gate opened on our destiny. Yeah, that's really troweling it on, I know, but Sofia and I had no clue how this day was going to end. And quite frankly it was a day I've never forgotten. And so now that I'm relating it, each and every detail seems to stand out and play itself out over and over again in my mind.

We barely got into the town when we passed another tall Nord woman in banded armor and a large weapon on her back while another guy was busy saying the sorts of things Nord guys say to women they are in the process of falling in love with. Then a bearded 'tough' guy by the name of Maul told us there was nothing to see in the town and to keep moving. A few choice questions later and I had learned enough of the town to know that there was more to things than met the eye. I bluffed him into thinking I was the sort of guy who might make his fortune in the town, and not in a hard working honest manner either, and he was more than informative. One of the fun things about being a Bard is that you learn how to act really well. We walked on, tried to ignore the girl who was shaking down a young naive Redguard, and found ourselves in the town plaza where I was bluntly informed by an Alchemist that I had not earned my money honestly. I didn't have a chance to comment on that one since Sofia suggested which orifice he could store his Falmer blood elixir in.

We walked into the Bee and Barb Inn, waited for the Priest, who's name was Maramal, to finish his ranting sermon on the evils of alcohol before the chief waiter, an Argonian named Talen-Jei, suggested to Maramal that everyone in the bar just wanted to sin in peace. I shook my head.

"Why would anyone think that mead is the problem?" I muttered. "Especially as the reason why the dragons flying about."

"You know," mused Sofia. "If the dragons are back because we're drinking too much mead? Imagine what's going to happen when we actually start to kill each other."

"Maramal needs to rethink a few things," I agreed.

Keerava was the bar tender. She too was Argonian. I walked up to her and arranged a three hour set of music. Then Sofia and I walked over to the center of room, I pulled out my lute and she got out the flute she had been learning to master these past few weeks. And we started out with a popular song titled The Age of Aggression. We employed the pro-Ulfric verses and the crowd began to warm up to us quite quickly. By the end of thirty minutes, we had more than a few of the listeners dancing about the tavern and some of the choruses were rousing enough that people could hear the merriment outside and came in. Naturally they stayed to listen and then purchased drinks. Sofia would switch from drum to flute and back again while I stayed on the lute and sang all the songs I had collected. And to top it off, I added at the end, a collection of love songs. And then I changed the routine just a little. Instead of singing to the audience, I began to sing to Sofia. And after a moment, Sofia began to blush. The audience picked up on that and there were more than a few "awes" and "That's so sweet" coming from them because of course, while Sofia might have denied the sincerity, the audience could see it straight. It was a good gig. And when we finished the crowd began to chant "one more song!" and so we gave in an let them have a final re-singing of the Pro-Ulfric Age of Aggression.

I walked back to Keerava while Sofia snagged a bottle of mead from Talen-Jei and sat at the table and began to drink it and unwind.

"That was a good performance," she started with. "I've sold more drinks in the last three hours than I usually sell in a week. You've more than earned your beds."

"Beds?" I asked. "You haven't got a double for me and my wife?"

"That's your wife you sang the love songs to and meant it?" she gasped.

I chuckled. "'friad so," I continued. "I am cursed to be madly in love with my wife."

Keerava sighed. "I have no double beds," she said. "And neither does the bunkhouse. Not that Haelga would want the competition."

I looked at Keerava with a completely mystified expression.

"It's a religious thing," suggested Keerava. "She's fond of Dibella."

"Ah," I said. "Say no more. Anyway, there's an old fellow named Esbern who's supposed to be hiding out in Riften. He's in serious danger from the Thalmor and I need to get him to safety."

Keerava looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"The Thalmor are looking for him too," she observed. "So why would I not think you are an agent of theirs."

"You could ask Ulfric," I replied. "He was standing right there when I made my vow to live and breath a Stormcloak."

"You made a vow?" asked Keerava.

"Until my head flies off my body," I replied.

I was telling the truth and she knew it.

"I've never seen him," she said. "But then again, I've never seen an Imperial Stormcloak. But if he's hiding, it will be in the Ratway."

I nodded.

"But I don't know how lucky you'll be," she continued. "A few days ago the Thalmor came in and started sending groups into the Ratway. Maven Black Briar has been throwing fits and the Jarl, Laila Law-Giver has been sending patrols down as well to get rid of the Thieves Guild which the Thalmor claim are interfering with their own hunts for a so called Shrine of Talos. Nura Snow-Shod, the priestess of Talos, has been in hiding for five days now."

"I have no problem with Maven being upset," I suggested. "In fact I have no problem with her being so upset she has a rupture in the brain and spends the rest of her days drooling in a corner."

"She's in bed with Thieves Guild, and Dark Brotherhood," whispered Keerava. "So the Jarl and Thalmor are both finding more than a little dirt on her. Of course Dark Brotherhood assassins have already shown up a couple of times to kill Thalmor which has led to the Jarl being even more determined to get to the bottom of the corruption and given that most of her advisors are on the take . . ."

"Okay, the Ratway is crawling with all sorts of people I'm probably going to have to incinerate when I get Esbern out," I sighed. "Tell me when the traffic is low."

"Night," replied Keerava with a rather Captain Obvious expression on her face.

"No vampires down there?" I asked.

"That's on Mondas," answered Keerava with the Argonian equivalent of a smile. She looked at me with a certain intense curiosity. "Just how important is Esbern to Ulfric?"

"Not just Ulfric," I said. "To all of Tamriel. It's thought he knows why the dragons are coming back."

She nodded. "I know nothing," she said. "I don't know who you are, and I don't know where you are, and I don't for a moment imagine you are sleeping upstairs with your wife. And I'll have Talen-Jei move a second bed into the larger bedroom for your lovely wife with the very high alcohol tolerance."

"You noticed?"

"She's on her second bottle already," finished Keerava. "Hey, I'm a professional bar keeper, we know these things."

I nodded, walked over to Sofia, who, knowing the body language of departure, drained the bottle in a single fluid motion. It was rather an interesting experience to watch since her head went up, the bottle was almost entirely upside down, and it was as if there was a full and unobstructed passageway from her mouth to her stomach. I saw no indication that she was swallowing in the least.

"That's a very amazing skill you have there," I said.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "It is."

I began to explain the situation to her.

"Of course there are some bandits in the sewers. What next? A secret hideout? Oh wait!"

I nodded and she gave me one of those "I so expected this because it sucks to be Sofia" expressions.

I took her out and noticed that the sun was low in the horizon. There was going to be some time left before it got dark enough to head into the Ratway. We started walking about looking at things. And there it was, Honorhall Orphanage. I looked at Sofia. There was the strangest look on her face. And then it hit me.

"I know what I can do to prove to you that not only do I love you, but I'll be with you forever," I said.

Her eyes widened just a bit and she began to raise her hand to her mouth. It was entirely unexpected since it was as if she were afraid.

"What?" she asked with more air than voice.

"I'll adopt the baby you had by your old boyfriend," I said. "This is the only orphanage in Skyrim as far as I know. This is where you put him isn't it?"

"Her," whimpered Sofia.

"Her, then. Let's go." I turned to open the door.

"Valentine . . . She's not there."

"Why? Is she already adopted?"

"Valentine . . . She wasn't adopted either."

"Sofia? What happened to your daughter?"

There was a very silent whisper. It was as if some horrible doom was falling upon her for speaking the words. "Aconite and wine, it terminates the pregnancy."

I realized I had finally discovered the reason why she hated herself so much.

"You killed your child," I observed. You say that was uncaring? On the contrary, the truth is often ugly on the surface. I knew exactly what I was doing.

"I terminated the pregnancy," she nearly shrieked.

"No!" I raised my voice. "You Killed Your Baby!"

"So you're going to be just like my parents and start with the guilt trip thing?" she shouted.

"Guilt trip? Me?" I nearly bellowed. "Girl, you got on that wagon months ago and have been traveling on the five star package for so long you have done ARRIVED!"

"If I hadn't done it I would be with my parents raising the girl and you Never Would Have Met Me!"

"And if my ancestor had, I never would have existed and you would be living in a cave so it evens out doesn't it!"

"I didn't want it to end like this!" she screamed.

"End?" I said. "I'll show you an end!"

And I dived and slammed my shoulder into the joint were her hips met her legs and with a single thrust from my legs and straightening my back, I actually managed to lift her up and proceeded to walk down the boardwalk, my arms firmly wrapped around her thighs while she beat my back and backside with her fists screaming that everyone was staring at us and it wasn't her fault and so on and so forth.

Two guardsmen of course were almost immediately on the scene. Funny how they never show up when it's a thief with a knife.

"Dramatic argument between a Dragonborn and his wife," I said calmly while Sofia was screaming all sorts of horrible fates she was going to inflict upon me the moment I put her down. "Nothing to see here."

I will admit, for all the corruption in Riften, these guards did have the professional acumen to know they were simply witnessing a somewhat loud domestic dispute and as no blood was being shed, they left well enough alone. I reached the Temple of Mara and with a single thrust by my right leg, pushed the door open and walked in. Sofia's screaming and threats were now reaching a state which could be charitably described as piercing and all three priests and priestesses were staring at us and no doubt wondering how I had managed to get here without the guards stopping us. With a single fluid motion I swung her around and somewhat irreligiously dumped her in front of the icon of Mara. A single thrust with my arms put her on her knees.

Now I will freely admit that throughout this entire fracas, she easily could have blasted my face off and made a run for it. The fact that she was both vocally potent while at the same time physically impotent told me that on some level she knew I was doing the right thing. But being that she was Sofia, she was not going down without a fight.

"Say you're sorry," I said pointing to the icon of Mara. "Say you're sorry and have it over with."

She was breathing heavily. She was straining just a little against my pressure on her shoulders, but she remembered the dragon mound, and she knew I would not let up. It took a moment but then, like a single dead groan, slowly released, it came out. "I'm sorry." Followed by a sort of world weary sigh that suggested that now that it was over with could she go?

I waited about five seconds before the explosion I knew would come, that first huge body shuddering sob of grief. And then the flood gates were opened and it all came out . . .

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msosorryMaraI'msorryI'msorry."

And she cried and cried and cried as all that so long suppressed deep regret was finally given the freedom to vent out. And all the while I just wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her while her body spasmed with the emotions.

After a moment, the Priest Maramal came up and knelt in front of Sofia who looked up at him with tear soaked eyes.

"Mara didn't tell me what you had done," he said quietly. "But she made it very clear to me that I was to tell you that she had forgiven you."

That's the nice thing about the Gods. There's of course the sentimental tripe about how the Gods will forgive the penitent who crawls in on their knees, but few ever fully appreciate that level of forgiveness which even accepts the penitent who is hauled kicking and screaming to the altar.

I waited a moment for Sofia to collect herself and then helped her up and holding her next to me we started to walk out of the temple. She was leaning against me in a longing sort of fashion that seemed as if she was trying to make a memory. We got out of the temple and she turned to face me.

"I wish it could have gone on longer," she sighed. "I really liked being with you. But of course now that you know who I really am, you know I wouldn't be a good mother for your children and you deserve that, Valentine. You deserve a woman who can do that for you, Valentine, so much. I can't give it so . . ."

"Sofia," I began. "What in oblivion are you trying to do?"

She looked at me with her mouth somewhat open.

"What did Mara just do in there?" I asked pointing back at the temple with my other hand fisted on my hip.

"She forgave me but . . ."

"And why wouldn't I?"

"But you're the Dragonborn . . ."

"And that makes me bigger than a God or Goddess?" I snorted. "Sofi who in oblivion do you think made the Dragonborn if not the Gods? Oh yeah, big whoop I'm the Dragonborn, I'm the big chick magnet and all the young boys want to be me but next to the Gods? I held my finger and thumb as close as I could. "I'm that big and that's only a fraction bigger than every other Human and Mer in Tamriel."

I looked into those wonderful eyes of hers and for the first time ever I saw something I had never seen before in them. I saw hope. It was small. It was just a spark. But it was trying very hard to burst into a bright burning fire.

"Mara isn't called Mother Mara out of sentiment," I continued. "If the Goddess of Mothers is ready to accept you back into the fold then who am I to deny you? I love you Sofia. And I know you'll do your damnedest to be the best mother a guy could hope for, even more so now that you've got something to prove to the world."

It was still there, but it hadn't blossomed yet. I waited to see what was holding it back.

"Well," she said somewhat hesitantly. "You just might have a chance to prove that sooner than you think because my period right now is twelve days late."

Have you ever ridden a white stallion over a hill, dressed in shimmering silver armor, and holding aloft a golden flaming sword, kind of like Dawnbreaker? Have you ever charged down that hill on that stallion and seen an army of orcs flee before you and in the middle of that terrified hoard, ride up, and with a single swing of your singing blade, break a chain that frees a beautiful princess dressed in shimmering sky blue gossamer silk? Have you, with a single grasp of a hand, pulled her into the saddle and ridden off singing into the sunset?

You haven't? Me neither.

But I sure as oblivion felt like I had.

"Well," I said with a smile watching that hope burst into joy. "It's a little too early to celebrate with certainty but I don't care. Let's get Esbern out of the Ratway, then secure him in an upstairs room at the Bee and Barb, and then just in case you need to start eating for two, I'm going to buy you the biggest most drowned in rich brown gravy meat pie they've got and there will be three, count 'em three, bottles of Black Brier Reserve to go with it."

"Well," she said with one of the biggest spiciest grins I had ever seen on any woman, let alone Sofia. "Okay, but you forgot dessert."

"What do you want for dessert?" I asked with a completely faked world weary groan. She was still Sofia when it came down to it.

"You upstairs, in our bedroom, under me, seriously getting raped hard."

"Well," I replied struggling to sound very intellectual about it in spite of the fact that I really wanted to just giggle in a corner somewhere like a little girly-girl. "First of all, girls can't rape guys. Second of all, you can't rape the willing."

"You think just because I'm your wife you can tell me what to do? Well think again!"

Loving Sofia, it's a dirty thankless job but somebody's got to do it. I gave her a one armed hug and we started walking towards the stairs that would take us down to the canal boardwalk where the Ratway was supposed to be. And as we always did, there was the checklist to make sure we were ready for the jaunt.

"Sofia? Enchanted Scale Armor?"

"Check," she said.

"Ring of Enchanted Sword Fighting?"

"Check."

"Silver Circlet of Frost Resistance?"

"Check, Valentine?"

"What?"

"We've done this a million times, and I see no reason why we won't come out of this like we've done in the past, but, just in case everything goes south, there's something I want you to know."

"What?"

"I Love You So Damn Much."

And you know? I'm okay with that.

And so Volume One comes to an end. I started this in August and it remained a single chapter for over a month before I started chapter two. Then it languished for several days because I had no clue what I was going to do after chapter three. Then everything about the Sofia personality clicked and I realized what I was dealing with, the thing that made the character both funny and trouble at the same time. The trick was coming up with a deep dark secret which would be the clue to Sofia's self-hatred. And if you think abortion doesn't have that impact on some women just google Abortion Regret and you'll find two million hits.

So why did I feel the need to add a backstory? In the creative process, there is this thing which all creators have to do, be they authors like me, or mod builders like Jarvis, and that's called engineering. Those decisions you make about what you will and will not work on. For example, if you have read my other two fan fics, Shining Bright or Silvered Dancer, the plot of the game is always secondary to the story of the characters to which I am relating. Most people who never get something accomplished creatively are those who will not make those 'hard' decisions about what will and what will not be worked on. You see, once you decide to paint a morning sky, you've just lost the ability to paint an evening, afternoon, or night sky.

Jarvis has spent his hard earned time making Sofia alive and humorous by the comments she makes on the events and places to which the character experiences or visits. However we know very little of her backstory. This is not a criticism by the way. Backstories require Christine's acting skills which means she has to spend time voicing the lines and Jarvis has to program that as well. And that adds to the size of the mod. There's this thing called real life and time. I get to write because I have time in which no one comes into my store, and since it's my store, I can do with the time what I like. No one is going to fire the boss you see.

And a backstory is what I have to work with in order to write a believable romance. Fortunately, thanks to the comments Sofia makes, coupled with her various behaviors, she reminded me of three girls I had dated once upon a time. Two of them very much so, and a third somewhat less so. And while I don't know Sofia's full backstory, I did learn the backstory of those three RL women and those backstories became the grist for the Sofia backstory mill. So if some of the drama and past history of Sofia shocks or amazes or horrifies you, remember, there are three RL women who's youth directly contributed to it. Yes, these things really do happen and people really do respond in these ways 'cause I was there when it happened. Or at least was there to pick up the pieces afterwards.

I thought I would pass on some information on the three women I got the backstory for Sofia from. I do this because not all of you reading this will be reading it just for entertainment. By telling people where I get my ideas, I hopefully will help younger writers get more in grip as it were.

The first was sixteen when the dirty dark thing happened to her. Her older sister was sleeping around and the sweet sixteen was filled with idealism and called her, after one particular nasty argument, a slut. Well older sister gets one of her sophisticated guy friends who was 25 to agree to a little tete a tete. Well thanks to a bit of cunning and treachery, the 16 year old goes on a date with the 25 year old, not of course really knowing how this guy suddenly became interested in her. By the end of the evening, she's lost her virginity and feels like crap. She spent two years with the guy, who got increasingly abusive both physically and emotionally, because she was convinced this was what she deserved. I got to know her shortly after she ended this relationship and she was still on the recovery while we were dating in college. It was bad enough that her sister set her up like that, but the guy was breaking the law and committing a felony in the state where it happened back once upon a time. She has recovered and has her happily ever after.

The second girl had an older sister happily married and a younger brother scoring so high in school that it was certain he was going on to be a doctor. And he did too. And as this was not the US, this was more than a feather in the cap of the family. Only 5% of that country's population ever goes to college and it's by invitation only. She on the other hand, partied her way through high school and was accomplishing nothing outside of being able to look tough riding a motorcycle. Then she moves in with a boyfriend who's supposed to be sterile and gets pregnant. But being just 16, and already engaged in not a little denial, she went on a serious starvation diet trying to lose the weight since it couldn't be pregnancy. Well she miscarried. Her solution? A lot of marijuana. She was the one who got pinned down (in her grandmother's back yard as opposed to a Skyrim Dragon Mound) because of course she was firmly convinced she was unlovable and so the guy was obviously lying. Now mind you this was a woman who had several professional photographers trying to get her to model. They too were obviously lying so that was a seriously high profile career she threw away. She had not, when I last spoke with her, recovered from her self-loathing.

Last girl? Simply a divorcee who had the misfortune of marrying a guy who thought he was a poet, and therefore superior to the common man, and to her. As a former professional writer, I can assure you he was not. She dealt with the emotional abuse by heavy drinking which of course only depressed her further. When I dated her there were so many walls up that we were never able to communicate. There was one thing she said about her relationship with her first husband which I have never forgotten. "I was gobbling the birth control pills." She too has recovered and has her happily ever after a few blocks down the street from me.

Both men and women suffer from self-loathing usually when something triggers a serious guilt reaction. The sexes respond in different fashions but if the matter is not recognized and dealt with properly, the person will, over time, self-destruct. Most young men however, have no clue how to deal with these issues when encountering them in young girls and so Valentine had to be just naive enough to want to love this woman and at the same time be wise enough to know what had to be done when he finally found out what was really at the bottom of Sofia's behavior. It helped of course, that he simply could not take himself too seriously.

The guilt trip line of Valentine at the climax of the story actually comes from an African-American Folk tale which was told among the free blacks of the south prior to the civil war. The idiom I borrowed in it's true form is "He's been on the road to trouble his whole life and he has done arrived!" One of the things that people don't realize is that before the civil war, the free blacks did not have to deal with segregation since no southerner thought twice about their free black neighbors living across the street from them. And some of them even owned slaves themselves. And many southerners were firmly convinced that as the free black population was increasing at a faster rate than the slave population, it was only a matter of time before slavery died out in the south. Thus there was a very rich African-American culture dating from that time it was for the most part lost in the great northern migration which took place starting in the 1950's and ending in the early 70's. Another favorite idiom of mine which comes from the African-Americans is this, "He's so still the fleas are falling off his body."

Valentine is a Roman name from the second and third century and was the name of several prominent Romans, even one Imperator. But most of us remember Valentine the Bishop who sent little hearts to his congregation encouraging them during one of the great persecutions of Christianity. He became a saint in the Catholic Calendar and is celebrated on February 14th. Of course most of you know the day by it's more popular secular festivities. Florian is also a Roman name from the same time. Since the Empire in Tamriel has many Roman qualities, I picked two Roman names for my hero. Sofia is an ancient Greek name and it means wisdom.

And so we go on to Volume 2.