8th of Sun's Height, 4E 197
We continued working on the cabin. Arlian mostly helped by bringing us small tools when we needed them. And, damn her persistence, Illedia worked about as hard as I did. I told her and told her she needs to rest, but she's always been stubborn. She probably got that from growing up with me. Her stomach grows bigger by the day it seems, bursting with fresh life.
The gold I stole from M'Ajo should last us a short while. Two hundred seventy-three septims is more than some people have, but also doesn't go very far after a few trips to the market. When I went into town, I only purchased some seeds, potatoes, cabbages, and two hens and a rooster. But the town's alchemy shop, now that caught my attention. I briefly considered seeing what I could swipe without being noticed, but it is better to keep myself out of trouble for now, especially since I have been in Skyrim for only a few days. The apothecary, Zaria, sold me a mortar and pestle and a simple alembic. I also decided to pick up a potion, one I believe will help Illedia down the road when she gives birth. I don't have any experience in alchemical practices, but it could be a worthwhile hobby, maybe even a way to earn an honest living. Until I get some ingredients and learn how to use the mortar, pestle, and alembic, this may not come to fruition for a while.
As I carted all our supplies back to the cabin, I stopped to admire the scenery. Skyrim is a cold, unforgiving land, this much is certain. But compared to Cyrodiil, this land holds unspeakable beauty. Watching the sun glistening through the trees of a thousand crisp leaves brings warmth to my heart that nothing in Bravil could ever hope to achieve. My only regret is that I can only behold this immense beauty in my right eye. Damn you and your skooma to Oblivion, M'Ajo.
What worries me about Skyrim is the bandit problem. I do not wish to awaken to a dagger at my throat, and I certainly do not wish for anymore exposure to the wretched skooma. My fur stands up at the thought. Gods, it truly is a miracle Illedia was able to get me off the stuff. Once it's in your blood, it stays there. It claws at the deepest recesses of your mind. It nags, urges, demands you have just one more bottle.
I feel deeply ashamed of how useless I was to Illedia, especially since I gave her the extra burden of my addiction. For years, she suffered beatings, lashes, Gods know what else. I tried in vain to protect her, but it was no use. If either of those bastards come this way, they'll have to kill me and weave a rug from my fur before I let them lay even a finger on Arlian, Illedia, or the baby she carries.
On more pleasant topics, I greatly look forward to starting a garden with the seeds I've purchased. Until then, we have lots of cabbage and potatoes to keep us fed. And once those run out, we still have a bit more gold, courtesy of our not-so-dear friend M'Ajo, that should buy us as much food as we need until Illedia and I can figure out a way to earn more septims.
I tire greatly and can barely keep my eyes open enough to finish this entry. Illedia and Arlian are already fast asleep, so I think it is time for me to blow out the candle on my nightstand and turn in for the evening.