Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Oblivion or any characters, plots or other elements there within, and I gain no monetary profit from the writing of this story. I do claim responsibility for Elowyn Demark and one or two random characters scattered throughout the story.
Chapter 21
"No. Absolutely not." Thedret crossed his arms over his chest and took the stubborn stance he knew he had learned from his mother. His irritation with the situation doubled when Elowyn chuckled at the display.
"Well, why not?" Geimund demanded with an equally stubborn expression, though it seemed more effective coming from the enormous man.
"Why not?" Thedret scoffed, then pointed to the keg of ale and crate of spirits beside the Nord. "Because drunken carousing is absolutely unseemly for a knightly order, that's why! Is this how you wish the Knights of the Nine to be defined?"
"Drunken carousing?" The Nord let out a disbelieving laugh. "It's just a little celebration among comrades at arms for a job well done! Don't you think we've earned it?"
Elowyn pointed out with a wicked grin, "Not to mention that there are far too few women here for carousing. Unless you plan on carousing with each other, hmm? Not an entirely bad idea, in my humble opinion…"
Thedret scowled at her, but said to the Nord, "There are any number of ways to celebrate that don't include drowning yourself in ale! How did you even manage to sneak that garbage into the cart without me noticing?"
"Sneaky, sneaky Nords," Elowyn snickered and plopped down on the front stoop of the Priory to watch them. "I warned you to keep an eye on them." The sun had just set, and in the light of the single torch outside, her eyes danced with amusement.
"I shouldn't be surprised that you support this," Thedret snapped, and immediately regretted it. He had learned that he was much better off ignoring her than responding to her baiting. He threw up his hands in surrender and stomped into the building. "You know what – do what you will. Just leave me out of it."
He heard the Nord grumble something, and Elowyn laughed, but Thedret refused to be drawn back in and instead made straight for the basement. Sergius glanced up at him from behind his forge, but said nothing until the Redguard stormed into the training room and jerked a practice blade from the stand.
"Problems?"
Thedret struck a stance and swung the blade in an arc toward the practice dummy. It bit into the wood with a satisfying thunk. "What makes you think that?"
The blacksmith snorted and walked around the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "I've known you since you were a boy, Thed. I've been watching you the last two days. I haven't seen you this moody since…" his face fell and sadness laced his voice, "well, since your daddy left. And that's saying a lot."
The sword flew twice more, and Thedret ignored the way his middle back gave a twinge with each swing. Though the wound had healed better than he had expected, the scars were still often stiff and achy. "It's nothing," he grunted before throwing another blow at the dummy.
"Don't give me that, you stubborn ass."
"It's nothing," he repeated with one final swing before he sighed and let his stance go limp. After a moment of internal debate, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "It's just…have you ever known something, something important, something that people should know…but if you told them, it would do more harm than good?" He stared over at the older man with a look that was half helpless, half searching. "That the truth was, for once, worse than the lie?"
The Imperial scratched his chin thoughtfully and mulled over the words. "Can't honestly say I have, son. And without knowing just what you're talking about here, I can't rightly give you a second opinion on the matter either."
Thedret sighed and rolled his neck and shoulders to loosen the tension. "Ah, forget it. I'm fine, Serg. Just…anxious to get on with things."
Sergius observed him quietly for a moment, then nodded and strode back toward the forge. "Are you going to pout down here all night, or do you plan to join the party? I hear those Nord brothers have gone beyond the call of duty for this little celebration."
"Oh, yes," Thedret replied snidely as he sized up the dummy again, "out of their way to turn the whole lot of you into stumbling drunks. I don't understand the point of this 'party.' This is not what the members of a knightly order should concern themselves with!" He squared his shoulders and sighed through his nose. "And I'm not pouting."
The Imperial grunted out a laugh and hung up his apron on the hook beside his forge. "Well, enjoy your alone time, Thed. I'll save an ale for you."
Thedret growled as the sword flew again, and again, but the moment he heard the door click shut behind his friend, the Redguard slumped and let the weapon dangle limply in his grasp. He did not want to admit it, could not admit it, but gods be damned he was tired. And it was all that vampire's fault.
He had spent the last two weeks in suspense. Waiting. She could not be the hero she once was, not with that disease coursing through her veins. He was waiting for a sign, a subtle shift, or an all out explosion, he could not be sure which, but it, whatever it turned out to be, had to be coming. The woman was a vampire, she controlled at least one daedra who believed her to be a god, and it was very obvious that she was quite mad. At least obvious to him – everyone else seemed not to notice. Either that or they just did not care.
Thedret sighed and placed the sword back on the rack. He lingered there for a moment and ran one callused hand down over his eyes before he made for one of the basins of water along the far wall. The cool splash felt wonderful against his skin, but did nothing to sooth his restless mind. He stared down at the droplets of water dripping from his nose, watched his own reflection distort and waver.
She had saved his life. He knew that, and it was the biggest reason he shoved all of his training to the back of his mind and improvised for the first time in years. She had taken an incredible risk in trying to rescue him in the first place, never mind the insanity of still saving him after he had seen her true face. He probably would not have betrayed her trust even then because a life debt was a life debt after all. But learning that she was Elowyn Demark, one of Tamriel's true heroes, had all but carved into stone his commitment to keep her...disease a secret.
He would not be the one to destroy a legend. He would not be the man who crushed the reputation of a person who had saved thousands of lives, given hope to the people when they had none, stepped willingly into Oblivion to fight an impossible battle. Some of the stories he had heard of her sounded like nothing more than exaggerated fantasy, and yet the end result was undeniable. The lands were safe, and the people loved her, even after all these years.
Yet he still could not trust her, and he would have thought himself a fool if he had. Sometimes, watching her as she watched the knights, her knights, he felt like he would burst from the burden of what he knew. They, above all, deserved to know the truth. As she prepared to continue the quest for the artifacts, should they not be given the chance to make a choice for themselves if they truly wished to serve under this woman?
He had sought council from Julianos, but his prayers had gone unanswered. He had even followed Elowyn into the tomb where she claimed the ghost of one of his ancestors, a member of the original Knights of the Nine, now dwelt. Perhaps the spirit could provide some kind of guidance. But Thedret had seen nothing but dust and cobwebs, an observation which made Elowyn laugh and point out, once again, that the gods have a horrific sense of humor.
He was not certain how long he lingered in the basement, lost in thought. Eventually, an outburst of sound carried to him from the floor above. He tilted his head to listen, and his frown faded to a look of uncertain disbelief as he heard the distinct sound of singing above the rhythmic thump, thump of feet suddenly stomping the floor. Very poor, very drunken singing.
Well, a Nord clad in kilt left the bar one evening fair
And one could tell by how he walked that he'd drunk more than his share
Thedret cracked open the basement door and blinked as the first thing he saw was Elowyn and Geimund atop the dining room table, their arms hooked as they laughed and circled each other in lively dance.
He fumbled 'round until he could no longer keep his feet
And he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
Thedret could only stare as the other laughing knights clapped and stomped along with the chorus.
Ring-ding-diddle-iddle-a-ladio, Ring di diddle-e-i-o
He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
The Nord stopped to reach down and catch his brother by the arm, then swung him up and into his place to dance a turn with Elowyn while Geimund flopped into a vacant chair. The woman laughed, obviously delighted when Gukimir hooked his arm in hers and added his rarely heard baritone to the next verses.
About that time two young and lovely girls just happened by
One says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
"See yon sleeping Nord so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt"
Ring-ding-diddle-iddle-a-ladio, Ring di diddle-e-i-o
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt
They crept up on that sleeping Nord quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold for them to view beneath the man's skirt
Was nothin' more than the gods had graced him with upon his birth
Ring-ding-diddle-iddle-a-ladio, Ring di diddle-e-i-o
Was nothin' more than the gods had graced him with upon his birth
Carodus, Sergius and even shy, blushing Brellin danced a turn with the woman upon the table, and though she was flushed and shining with sweat, her enthusiasm shone in her eyes. It was strangely painful for Thedret to bear the knowledge that she was not the human she appeared to be.
They marveled for a minute then one said, "We must be gone.
Let's leave a present for our friend before we move along"
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star the Nord's kilt did lift and show
Ring-ding-diddle-iddle-a-ladio, Ring di diddle-e-i-o
Around the bonnie star the Nord's kilt did lift and show
She noticed him at some point, standing halfway up the stairs to the basement, staring at her and the other knights enjoying their celebration. For a half-second, her smile faltered, her eyes dimmed, and the look she gave him was sad…regretful. And, oddly enough, he found he hated that look, and hated even more that he had caused it.
Then he blinked, and her grin had returned in full force as she gestured to him. Though he started to shake his head, the drunken knights would have none of it and before he realized what was happening, he found himself hauled forward and up to stand on the table in front of the laughing woman.
Elowyn offered him her arm with a challenging lift of her brows, and though he could feel his embarrassment building, Thedret was spurred on by the singing of his comrades and hesitantly accepted her challenge. Though her skin was cool as always, she radiated a simmering heat from exertion, and her infectious smile soon had him chuckling as he joined in the song against his better judgment.
Now the Nord woke to nature's call and stumbled towards the trees
Behind the bush he lifts his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes
"Oh, lad I don't know where you've been, but I see you've won first prize"
Ring-ding-diddle-iddle-a-ladio, Ring di diddle-e-i-o
"Oh, lad I don't know where you've been, but I see you've won first prize"
The last chorus repeated a few times, but it was mostly lost to raucous hoots and laughter. Elowyn stumbled on one of the tankards on the table and tried to grab Thedret for balance. Unprepared, he could not find his own footing, and the pair tumbled off the table in a heap, much to the delight of their inebriated audience.
"The lad hasn't even had a single drink and he's falling all over himself!" Geimund roared around his tankard of ale.
Laughing, Elowyn and Thedret helped each other to their feet, and the woman snagged a bottle of spirits from the table and held it out to her final dance partner. "We'll have to remedy that, hmm?" she called back at the Nord, though her eyes stayed fixed on Thedret's face with a curious expectation in her gaze.
He eyed the bottle for a moment, his stubbornness and pride struggling with some other, less used part of him. Finally he nodded and accepted the drink. "You win," he told her with a faint smile at the triumphant expression on her face. "For the moment."
Besides, he added to himself, perhaps he could use this opportunity to his advantage.
A/N: The song is a slight modified version of "Under the Scotsman's Kilt" by Mike Cross, I believe. I'm aware that Nords probably don't wear anything like a kilt, but I like the song too much to leave it out. :)