Snippets of Destiny

By Leoni Venter

Based on Oblivion by Bethesda Softworks

Part 3: Choices in life

Martin opened the door.

The smell of cheap wine and ale wafted into his face along with the sounds of a fair number of people talking, cheering and whistling. Through the din the sound of a lute was audible, as Lark finished off a song. The lunch crowd at the Grey Mare hooted appreciatively.

Martin stepped inside and found a place along the wall. The common room was packed to capacity and Martin reflected that Lark was very good for business. He knew the landlord paid Lark well for his lunchtime performances.

The red-haired minstrel smiled at his audience. "I can do one more," he said, as they quieted down. "Any requests?"

"Cyrodiil Girls!" someone yelled from the back, and the request was seconded by a chorus of other voices.

Lark nodded and swung into the rollicking tune he'd composed less than a week ago. Martin had even helped him with some of the rhymes.

"Come closer friends and hearken to me.
I have travelled far and wide you see,
And I have met girls in every town...
But Cyrodiil ladies brought me down."

The song was already so popular that people sang the punch line of every verse along with him, and one man pulled out a wooden flute and played along as Lark continued.

"In Anvil I was a sailor's mate.
Sea shanties I sang and fish I ate.
Anvil's girls were pretty as can be...
But none of them ever looked at me!

A light fingered dame from wet Bravil
Told me one day to keep very still.
She relieved me of my hard-earned gold...
And told me also I was too old!

Snowy Bruma felt so very cold
But for a short while my heart was sold.
Frosty those tall Nord ladies were not...
But I found their tempers way too hot!

I fell for an elf in Cheydenhal:
A dark pretty lady six feet tall.
She had blue skin and piercing red eyes...
She called me 'fetcher' and said goodbye!

In mountainy Chorrol I did see
The tall beauty of the great oak tree.
With pretty girls in the shade I spoke...
But for one of them my poor heart broke!

In Kvatch on its high mountain top
An Arena lady made me stop.
In her presence I was never bored...
Trying to get away from her sword!

Lovely Leyawiin on Topal Bay
Is bright and cheery as they all say.
Argonian and Kajeet girls rock...
But when one kissed me it was a shock!

In Skingrad Hightown I shared some wine
With a pretty lass I would call mine.
Oh she liked the wine but then told me...
She would rather stay with Surile!

I strolled one day by White Gold Tower
With a girl pretty as a flower
She saw a guard in shiny armour...
They left - that was the last I saw her!

Oh in all my travels I have been
To every town yet I have seen
The only place I would rather be...
Is where a pretty girl smiles at me!"

Lark drew to a close with a flourish, which left the crowd breathless and laughing with shared excitement. He stood up and took a bow to prolonged applause. "Thank you, friends." He accepted their praise – and coins – with becoming modesty. When things had quieted down he took the lute and made his way to where Martin sat.

"Here you go," Lark said, handing some coins to Martin. "Your fee for helping me write the song."

Martin grinned. "I just wish I could sing like you. I could make my own fortune and not wait for handouts from my master."

"You do well enough," Lark said, ruffling Martin's hair. "Come on, this place is too crowded for talk."

They made their way outside and wandered up the street, settling finally on a bench under the Oak. Martin said nothing as they walked, thinking about his training and his future. Lark had taught him many things over the last three years. In some he excelled and in others he was merely competent. Although he could play the lute he could never do the extraordinary things Lark could do with it. Martin had proved much more apt with a blade, but his true talent lay with magic.

When Lark had offered to teach him some spells helpful in combat situations, they had both been surprised at how easily he had picked up the skill. This had recalled his childhood fascination with magic, and he had told Lark about the cave and the books he had never showed to his father. On one of their expeditions they had gone there and with some work had cleared the closed-off tunnel.

Inside all had been as Martin had last seen it, ten years before. They had gathered the books and scrolls and took them outside into the sunlight, and, perusing them, Lark had expressed some doubt about the contents.

"I'm no expert," he had said. "But I think these deal with Deadric magic." He had shaken his head. "My advice is, stay away from this stuff. We can rather find someone to teach you regular magic. This is bad news."

Martin had nodded in agreement, and they had stacked the books back inside the cave. He had believed Lark's advice, but as time passed, he sometimes found himself daydreaming about the strange symbols he had seen fleetingly in the leaf-dappled sunlight.

He had learned some more spells from a man at the Mages Guild, and as he learned his craving for knowledge increased. Finally he had come to a decision, but he needed Lark's help if he was to have any chance in succeeding in his ambition. This brought him back to the present, sitting under the Oak with Lark telling some story about someone at the castle.

"… So Count Valga ordered an inspection," he was saying. "And the Guard turned out in the castle courtyard, all shiny armour and buckles, you know." He laughed. "And Captain Gerontius walked up and down the parade, the Count at his side, with 'Kick me!' stuck to the back of his cuirass… and no-one said a word! Can you imagine that? Lucius tells me he almost died holding back his laughter."

Martin smiled distractedly. "Very funny, yes."

Lark gave him a searching look. "Alright, what's the matter?"

"I want to join the Mages Guild," Martin came straight to the point. Lark was his friend and mentor. He knew he could tell Lark anything, without wondering what he would think or whether he would approve.

Lark lifted an eyebrow at that. "Good idea, what's the problem?"

"My father," Martin sighed. "I don't think he will like the idea."

Lark considered for a moment. "Well, you may be right about that, but there's no harm in trying, don't you think? Do you want me to come along?"

"Oh, would you?" Martin brightened. His father respected Lark's opinions.

"Sure," Lark grinned. "Let's go. If we time it right I can scrounge some dinner from your mother."

Martin had to laugh at that. Lark never seemed to miss an opportunity to join them for dinner. "You must really love Mother's cooking," he remarked.

"Mostly I like leaving you with more dishes to wash," Lark said, ducking under the playful punch that Martin aimed at him. He grabbed Martin's arm and quickly immobilized him. "Are we sparring or going?"

"Going, going," Martin laughed as Lark let him go. As always the minstrel was too quick for him, but Lark's easy company made him forget his apprehension at facing his father as they got their horses from the stable and set off for the farm.

To be continued...

Disclaimer: All of Oblivion belongs to Bethesda Softworks. I'm just letting my mind wander through time a bit... Lark's songs are mine though.