'Saarthal' was on the lips of everyone at the school, from excited apprentices who couldn't wait for the day to finally arrive to senior mages eager to send the apprentices away for some much sought after peace. The week rolled by with little incident, and soon the apprentices were summoned for a special assembly before embarking on their journey.
Onmund was practically bouncing on his feet as he and the other apprentices gathered in the main courtyard. Horses and carts were being prepared for their trip to Saarthal, due west from Winterhold. Excited chatter echoed off the ancient walls. Even though the morning itself was dreary, painted in gray watery light, the excitement was palpable, and the apprentices wore bright, earnest faces.
Tolfdir stood before them, and with a motion of his hand signalled them to settle down.
"I see that we're all very excited!" A pleased grin pulled at the old mage's face as he regarded the students before him. "Saarthal is a very important discovery for all of us, and I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to have you along for this research trip."
Smiles passed along the faces of the apprentices, each glowing with a sense of pride and importance.
"But we will not be going alone. Master Arniel Gane will be accompanying us as the lead researcher." Tolfdir motioned to a stout Breton man with a thinning hairline. He wore a grim and serious expression, as though loath to tolerate the company of the young mages.
"And Master Phinis Gestor has also allowed two of his most trusted students to help along— hopefully without causing more trouble this time." Out came Alrek and Camille Allard, dressed in lush fur coats, the material so dense it practically oozed luxury.
"Happy to come along," Camille beamed.
"Much preferable to sitting down in front of another tome," Alrek added.
Tolfdir chuckled. "Hopefully you two will keep our apprentices out of trouble rather than joining them in it, mm?" He shot a knowing look at Onmund, J'zargo and Brelyna.
Oh, gods. Onmund felt so small; he wanted to bury himself in the fur of his coat immediately at the scrutiny. But Tolfdir was a merciful man, and simply laughed.
A group of workers trekked up to the courtyard, notifying Tolfdir that the horses and supply carts were ready for the trip. Excitement stirred throughout the apprentices once more as they workers announced, "Ready when you are."
"Now, now! Please, in groups of two and three!" Tolfdir tried to calm the students over the din of excited chattering. "Single file now, I'd like for everyone to make it to the first campsite in one group, please!"
"By Azura, I can't believe this is happening!" Brelyna squeezed both Onmund and J'zargo's hands in hers. "We're finally going!"
"This one is tempted to see what Saarthal has to offer, perhaps more knowledge for this one to seek?"
"Well, no matter what happens, we have to be careful," Onmund cautioned.
"I'm surprised that Muthsera Phinis is letting Alrek and Camille come along," Brelyna mused as they waited their turn to walk down the narrow bridge out of the college grounds.
J'zargo swished his tail. "This one supposes that after that last adventure, Master Phinis would rather those two were Master Tolfdir's problem. Should make for an interesting journey."
Brelyna nudged Onmund playfully. "Ooh, I bet you're feeling better about the trip already huh?"
"Oh please, you two…" Onmund hid his face behind his hand. "Not this."
But J'zargo couldn't help himself, joining in the teasing as well. "How romantic!" he purred. "Watching the stars at night, sharing a meal under the cover of night… getting up close and personal?"
"You're both terrible!" Onmund wanted to pull his hood over his head and stay there until they reached the first site.
Brelyna asked, "Oh, speaking of which, what about Blue?"
The wisp had taken a liking to Onmund. It went everywhere he did, and it wasn't long before he had taken to calling the creature 'Blue'. It was present for every meal, every study session, every little minutia of the day.
"I kept the door open to my room when I left so he can come in and out as he pleases," Onmund replied.
"Why is a creature always a 'he', is that just a thing boys do, or am I missing some Nordic cultural context here?"
The apprentices continued chatting amongst themselves as they left the hallowed gates of Winterhold and began the trek on the main roads leading out of the town, heading towards the northern coast. Onmund couldn't help but notice the untrusting gaze the townsfolk had given the apprentices as they had passed through. Some had even shut their windows and doors in fear. But if the other apprentices had noticed, he wouldn't find out; everyone seemed more focused on the journey ahead, and conversation was mainly concerned with speculating about what they might find.
Trying to distract himself from the familiar, hated glare of Winterhold's townsfolk, Onmund kept his eyes fixed on the flash of red hair at the front of the group. The Allard twins flanked Tolfdir and Arniel Gane protectively: he noticed their hands rested on their hips and their movements were deliberate. Their eyes didn't wander as the other apprentices' did, almost as though they were watching for trouble.
It was then that Onmund realized they had swords strapped to their belts.
Would there be trouble on the roads? He remembered being warned about brigands and bandits when he lived in Kynesgrove, but so far up north? He pushed the thought out of his mind. He had to focus on keeping up with the others before they got ahead. Onmund doggedly hurried his pace, barely noticing the lazy blue orb that had floated into his pack.
"I can't believe it followed you." Brelyna cinched her hands at her hips, staring in utter disbelief at the wisp that was now excitedly circling Onmund.
"Usually they do not follow anyone so far out from the college," J'zargo added.
"Maybe Onmund's just that charming," chimed another voice.
The three apprentices turned to see none other than Alrek Allard, tendrils of his red hair floating lazily in the gentle northward breeze. Charming. He stupidly repeated in his head. He thinks I'm charming? I'm charming? Onmund couldn't help but stare dumbly at him, at the perfect, handsome features and the perfect, clever words that spo— Gods, he thinks I'm charming?
"You look like you need some help with your tent," Alrek explained as he looked over Brelyna's shoulder. The sorry heap of sticks and fabric was supposedly her shelter for the night. In fact, Onmund was embarrassed to note as Alrek's eyes moved over the other two 'tents' that they weren't in much better shape either.
"Well, none of us has really gone camping before." Brelyna huffed. "We asked one of the workers to help us pitch one, but we have to wait."
Alrek shook his head. "It's not bad… for a first attempt."
"And I suppose you're a master tent-pitcher too, on top of everything else?" Brelyna challenged.
Onmund watched the scene unfold as he held Blue in his hands. There was something about the way Brelyna and Alrek bantered so effortlessly. She had mentioned knowing him from summers spent at school with him. He wondered what their lives were like, rich families coming together, forming all these connections. A feeling stirred in him as he watched them playfully bump each other's shoulders. It wasn't envy, not really. Longing, perhaps? How he longed for a relationship like theirs. Easy-going. Friendly. He continued straightening out the canvas and furs for his own tent, listening idly.
"As a matter of fact, I do." Alrek flashed a charming grin. "Camille and I go hunting with our knights, it'd be poor form if I let them do everything for me."
But Alrek approached him, and Onmund could not help but meet his gaze then. "I-it's alright! W-we'll wait for help."
"Nonsense, this shouldn't take too long."
The three of them watched as Alrek deftly pulled away the sticks and fabric, starting the whole thing over. He then propped the frame into place before nailing the fabric over it. Sturdy and simple.
Onmund was impressed. After all the things Alrek had complained about when they were back in the college grounds, he would have never supposed Alrek would know how to handle himself in a survival situation.
"C'mon, let's get the others put up." Alrek pointed at the remaining tents, and the three of them began following his instructions. Sure enough, in short order they each had a shelter for the night, much better built than their previous attempts.
"Thank you," Brelyna said.
Onmund half-expected Alrek to bask and gloat, but he simply smiled kindly at her. "This is a good spot to camp," he noted. "Safe behind these rocks, but there's always a bit of danger when you're out."
Onmund once again noticed the sword strapped to his belt. Blue seemed to buzz in realization as well.
"Is that why you're here?" he asked, his gaze never breaking from the weapon. "I saw what you could do in the Midden."
"Partly," Alrek replied. "This was a punishment, to get us out of what remains of Messere Phinis's hair. But also because Camille and I have some experience in combat. If anything happens, we'll be prepared to take it on."
"Just the two of you— is that enough?" Brelyna asked.
Alrek jerked his chin towards the workers that had come along for the trip. "They're mercenaries, too."
Just then, Tolfdir began motioning for the apprentices to gather once more, his voice carrying over the cold winds. "Everyone, everyone, may I have your attention?" He had found a large rock to stand on. Even with the wind picking up, he stood tall and unmoving; just like a true Nord, Onmund thought. Onmund noticed the other apprentices pulling their cloaks tighter, some even summoning flames to keep their hands from freezing. To Onmund, this felt no different from another chilly night.
"I will admit that there's more to this trip than what Saarthal has to offer, and I hope the journey to the ruins will also serve its own lesson. While many of us have come from privileged backgrounds, able to understand the nuances of language, society and so on, many of us also come from plainer stock." Onmund met Tolfdir's gaze, trying not to grimace. "I hope this trip will become an equalizer between apprentices— a reminder that no matter where we come from, we are all mages. But also that our talents outside of our magical abilities can offer more practical solutions. With that said, I'll need some volunteers to help organize this campsite, and the other sites as we progress further to the site."
He began to list duties: cleaning, storage, research. Apprentices responded by raising hands to offer their skills and knowledge— some Onmund recognized as having backgrounds like his own. A fisherman's son from Leyawiin. The daughter of an Altmeri staff-maker. The child of an innkeeper in Bruma. Plain folk who wouldn't have gone noticed in villages like Kynesgrove.
"Finally, we'll need someone to help hunt for food and meal preparation."
Onmund's hand shot up. "I can do that!"
"Oh! Well then, we'll need something hearty for everyone. Maybe some stew? I could use a good stew." Tolfdir gave him a warm smile.
"I'll go with Onmund," Alrek said as he strode forward, confident as ever. "I've gone hunting before, and it'll be easier to get enough for everyone with the two of us."
"Are you sure?"
"Doubts, messere Onmund?"
Gods, if he kept talking to him in Bretic Onmund might just faint on the spot.
"We're going to need something big, maybe some venison, I know how to hunt them. Do you?"
"Very well, then, I propose a bet." Alrek walked towards Onmund, who had to fight himself not to take a step back. "First one to return to camp with actual game wins."
"What does he win?" J'zargo asked, his voice rasping above the amused apprentices.
"He'll find out, if he wins, that is." Alrek had already summoned a bow and a quiver of arrows. "Day's wasting." And with that, Alrek took off, fast and nimble, disappearing into the white haze of snow.
Onmund staggered back to reality, grabbing a mundane set for himself. Setting his jaw he raced after Alrek, the other apprentices cheering him on.
It had been hours, but he returned triumphant. His muscles still ached and his knees still felt like they would give out at any moment, but there was that warm, burning feeling of pride erupting within Onmund. There, on the cart, laid a fat doe he had caught. All of his knowledge hunting in the cold, harsh lands of Eastmarch was there for all to see. He couldn't take his eyes off it, and the other mages who had witnessed the bet could hardly believe it either. He may not have been the smartest scholar or the most capable mage, but he knew how to hunt, how to survive, and how to use Kyne's given gifts to make the most of a long, hard journey.
"Oh, gods…"
Cresting the hill, out of breath and looking just as tired as he was, was Alrek. His perfect hair had fallen out of place, but no image was sweeter than his complete and utter shock at Onmund's catch.
"So…" Onmund managed through a gulp of air, "What'd you catch?"
Alrek wordlessly held up his bag of game, his own eyes never breaking away from the doe on the cart, ready to be prepared.
"How… How did you?"
Onmund gave him a pleased smirk, proud and near arrogant, as if to say, 'Don't underestimate me.'
"I think you've been bested, brother. No hounds or horses against a native Nord? I'd almost wager you wanted to lose." Camille chuckled from the cooking station, peeling potatoes.
Even Tolfdir couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "The Old Nords say never make a bet you were prepared to lose, lad."
Alrek laughed along as he added his game to the pile. Birds and smaller animals; harder to hunt, and certainly a flashy, impressive feat. But it fed less than the fat doe Onmund had caught. Even so, the variety didn't go unappreciated, and the others weren't about to turn their noses up at even more food. After a full day of travelling and preparing the camp, everyone was hungry.
"Well, then, you've won fair and square," Alrek announced.
"So… wh—what'd I win?"
Alrek flicked the wash water off his hands and began patting his pack. He pulled out a coin purse and tossed the whole thing to Onmund's waiting, but surprised, hands.
"Fifty septims. Congratulations, messere."
Onmund blanched at the number. Fifty gold pieces? Not coppers or silvers. But fifty gold septims.
"I-I think you're mistaken… you shouldn't be walking around with this much money!"
"It's yours, you won it." Alrek pulled on a pair of sturdy, black leather gloves and gave him a good-natured pat on the back. "You're clearly the better hunter."
"I can't accept this…"
He made to return the money but Alrek pushed his hand back. "I insist, it's yours. You won it fair and square."
"What would I even do with this much money?"
"Maybe we can figure that out together when we're back." Onmund almost stumbled backwards at the wink Alrek shot him.
The cold winds picked up around the camp, but it didn't stop the apprentices eagerly waiting for their bowls of dinner. Onmund claimed it was a recipe passed down in his family through the generations: "Oma makes the best venison stew!" he brightly announced.
At first the apprentices were just glad to have something warm in their stomachs, but soon began asking for second helpings. "It's really good!" one Argonian apprentice said, holding out his bowl as a forked tongue licked his lips.
"Sure, there's plenty where that came from!" Onmund was only too happy to fill the bowl in his waiting hands. Even Blue couldn't help but dance in excited loops at the smiles the students gave him.
"Keeping busy, I take it?" All of a sudden Alrek appeared out of the darkness and took a seat next to him, his own bowl empty. "I think you could give The Gourmet a run for his money."
Onmund blushed at the compliment. "You like it, then?"
Alrek held out his bowl. "Enough to want seconds."
"Not just because it's cold?"
"Well, that too. But it's hard to complain about the weather when I'm keeping good company, and good food." Onmund handed Alrek's newly filled bowl back with a shy smile. He watched Alrek take spoonfuls of the stew, committing every graceful movement to memory. Blue settled into the hood of Onmund's robe, snuggling against his neck.
"So, where'd you learn to hunt?"
Onmund blinked back to reality. "Oh, well, I dunno. My father, I guess?"
"You guess?"
"Everyone had to, back home." He hated that he knew if his father saw his catch today, he'd have forgotten all those arguments about magic. Hated that he was good at the few things his father valued. No, no more talking about home.
"What about you? Where did you learn? I didn't think someone so well-off did their own hunts."
"I went with the knights from my family's estate."
Onmund turned to look at him. "What was that like?" Onmund could hardly imagine the romance of it all: he had only ever seen High Rock in drawings, its rolling meadows and ancient forests depicted with an artist's inked strokes, but to see it in person? One day, he told himself, one day he'd go and visit.
"Hunting with the knights, you mean? Horses, hounds, had to go in groups; they say the forests around our lands are haunted with witches, and that we had to be careful to only feed ourselves and not take too much."
"How do you know how much to hunt for?"
Alrek shrugged. "That was the challenge, and it made for a fun one. We know the lands and the people who made the forest their home. Made sense for us to leave enough for them as well."
"What's it like where you're from?"
"Hmm?"
"I hear High Rock is all… rolling hills and nice weather." Onmund laughed. Books about Tamriel always painted High Rock as some… temperate paradise. He wanted to hear what Alrek thought— surely if any of it was true, he'd hear longing sighs soon. Absent-mindedly, he reached up and began petting Blue.
"Not all of it. Maybe out in the meadows. Our lands, where my family is from, are said to be forever shrouded in autumn. There's always a chill in the air, and it's very misty. Our c— home overlooks a great lake."
Onmund could only try to envision it— he pictured something like the Rift. Autumn everlasting, with that familiar chill in the air, soothed with pies and tea. He pictured the lake as a deep, turquoise shade, stunning as it reflected the red leaves and misty air. It had been a small whimsy then, the notion that he'd like to visit someday soon. He wondered if Alrek would object to the idea.
"What about you? What's it like where you're from?" Alrek asked.
"Not much to say, though… I guess I haven't really seen much of it. Kynesgrove is… barren? It's all rock and hot springs. There are a few forests nearby but… nothing like you described." At his words Blue peeked out from Onmund's hood, curious as a cat.
"Surely it's not that boring?"
Onmund wanted to say, 'Yes, it is. And horrible too.' But he couldn't bring himself to form the words. As much as Kynesgrove broke his heart, it was home. And a Nord never forgot his roots.
"I liked going to the hot springs when it got cold." Onmund smiled to himself at the memory. "Me and my little sister would go together and just sit there, side by side. Talking about whatever. Sometimes I think maybe my life wasn't so bad before coming to Winterhold, that I was just… making all these problems up."
"You came for a reason, and I'm glad you did. Besides, how else was I going to try your delicious stew?"
Onmund smiled wide at that.
"What are the hot springs like?" Alrek asked.
"Nothing as nice as your lakes and autumn forests," Onmund laughed.
"Oh, come now!"
"I mean, it… Gods, I don't know how else to put this, it stinks?"
Alrek tried to stifle a laugh.
"I mean, it's fine once you're used to it, but the hot springs take some getting used to."
"I would like to visit."
"Really?"
Before Alrek could say anything further, a gaggle of voices broke into Onmund's attention. Brelyna, J'zargo and Camille stepped into the circle of firelight, faces red from laughter, Camille still strumming his lute.
"You're all still here?" Brelyna asked. "Well if you're not going to join us we'll just bring the party here then."
"Party, Brelyna? Since when were you the partying sort?" Alrek smirked.
"Quiet, you."
"This one would pay to see the Telvanni dance."
They grouped together around the cooking pit, laughing along to whatever terrible jokes Camille could concoct. Once he grew tired of that, he switched to singing a saccharine song in Bretic, much to the amusement of Alrek, who doubled over in laughter begging his twin to stop.
Onmund caught the infectious joy that spread through the small group. "I know a few Nordic songs if anyone wants to hear!"
"You lead, I'll play right behind you," Camille offered, slender fingers already primed on the instrument.
They sang and made merry; even Blue couldn't seem to help itself, buzzing around the apprentices in excitement and glee. Perhaps the most amusing moment was when Alrek got his long, silken hair caught in the many fanciful rings he so adored. "It's alright, I've got it!" Alrek kept insisting, but it was very clear he was, quite literally, caught by his own vanity.
Onmund stopped his songs to help. "This is why we wear braids in Skyrim," he said with a grin as his fingers moved through Alrek's silky hair.
"Lesson learned."
The night wore on in laughter and friendship and merriment. Unlike most of Skyrim's inhabitants, they did not fear the gathering darkness. As the lights of the aurora danced overhead, the small group found safety and security in each other's company, and in the discoveries that would soon await them.