Bargrum

"And so in Skyrim they say, Donvir won the day; his enemies lay in a heap. He returned to his home, to a hero's welcome; and the Jarl's daughter offered her bed to sleep." Ja'Rassa finished his tale, leading the Orcs around the night's fire in uproarious laughter. The Khajiit bard had somehow acquired a stringed instrument during the past week in between the tasks I kept him busy with. Needless to say, once my shield brothers had heard him strumming the strings, they insisted he entertain them.

"Play us a tune. If we like it we won't skin you alive," they teased at first, intending to torment him. Ja'Rassa rose to the challenge however. Each night he played on the lute and chose a story, finding that the warriors loved anything with graphic battle and raunchy innuendo.

The Khajiit bowed from atop a crate, accepting applause and boisterous praise and spoke like an orator. "That concludes the tale of Donvir the brave. As the night grows late and the fire grows dim, Ja'Rassa wishes you all sweet dreams and soft beds."

The warrior next to me passed a jug of grief, a strong Dunmer brew. I took the jug, pressed it to my mouth, and threw my head back, letting the pungent liquid burn my throat. My head was spinning pleasantly by now and I passed the jug around the circle surrounding the fire. Across the circle, I saw the Chieftain sitting in a grand chair she'd claimed as a spoil of war from our raids. She met my gaze and jerked her head in the direction of her tent. I couldn't help but smile.

I turned to Ja'Rassa. "Khajij." He didn't seem to realize I was talking to him. "You thar, Khajij." My tongue felt heavy and fuzzy.

Ja'Rassa turned to me, grabbing his iron ball and chain to carry in his hands. "You called boss?"

"Halp me up." I put a hand on the cat's shoulder to steady myself. I didn't notice him grimace and growl under my weight.

He groaned. "Going to the chieftains tent again," he asked, already knowing the answer. Even under my weight, he still exercised his sense of humor. "It's starting to get lonely staying in yours." I grunted, not in the mood to bandy words. I had a woman waiting. He didn't seem to notice. "Then again, maybe Ja'Rassa will just have to invite his friend Ajira to stay with him. She doesn't seem very adventurous, but the stories she tells," he purred. "Ja'Rassa will soon have at least one of them put into song. Perhaps he will play it one of these nights."

I didn't invite him to tell me more, but he required no invitation. "The poor thing crossed the continent to come here to Vvardenfell and study alchemy with the Mages guild. It seems hard luck is determined to follow her wherever she goes. Of course, a story of sorrows may be a bit too nuanced for Ja'Rassa's current audience. The song he makes is actually of Ajira's companion, a Dunmer from Cyrodiil."

I huffed, wishing he would shut up. "Ajira says he was in trouble with the Empire and trying to get home to his mother. He found a smuggler and took Ajira with him to escape Vvardenfell, but the ship was found by the navy and attacked."

I shifted my hand from his shoulder to his muzzle, shutting him up and pressing his whiskers back. I'd found out that Khajiit hated having their whiskers touched and after he struggled to free his mouth for a second, I released him to the sweet sound of silence. He escorted me to the Chieftains tent without speaking further and I sent him off by roughing up the hair on top of his head. I stumbled into the tent to find the Chieftain passed out in her bed. She'd attempted to undress, but hadn't made it very far.

"Too much grief," I mumbled, falling next to her. So much for a good time. In the limbo between sleep and being drunk out of my mind, Ja'Rassa's words bounced around in my head all night. I lurched awake all at once, head spinning and throbbing, but one idea was clear in my head.

Chief Grazob was jarred awake and her hand fumbled for the sword she kept next to the bed. "Trouble," she asked?

"No," I growled.

Grazob relaxed, laying back with a sigh. "Then what's eating you?"

"Probably nothing," I said dismissively. "But I think I ought to go look into something."

I looked back to find that the Chieftain was already snoring again. When I opened the tent flap, the sun blinded me and I growled at the headache it brought. I pushed myself on through the camp, grabbing a bucket of water from a startled Dunmer slave and dowsing myself, leaving it for the slave to pick up. I flung the flap of my own canvas tent open and shouted at the lazy Khajiit on a mat next to the bed. "Wake up!" Ja'Rassa jumped, his fur standing on end in surprise. "The Dark elf you were telling me about, what was his name?"

"Ajira did not tell Ja'Rassa a name. Ja'Rassa thought it would be poetic to give him a mysterious title."

I growled again and turned around, looking for the sick tent. I found the Khajiit alchemist inside at a bench, crushing herbs together with a mortar and pestle. "You there!" Ajira shrank protectively, her ears laying flat in fear. "You told my slave of a Dunmer you know. What was his name?"

The Khajiit dropped her implements, too frightened to speak.

"Was his name Han lu?" I asked, this time a bit softer.

Ajira's eyes grew wide with recognition and regained some composure. "Han lu Urshar," she added, tentative and afraid.

My suspicion was confirmed and the feeling of emptiness that had consumed me since Adairan had been executed was dispelled at once. I'd satisfied myself with serving in this Barbarian camp, but if there was one left who was worthy of my service, it was Han lu Urshar. "Where is he?"

"Our boat was attacked going to Skyrim. Ajira used a spell to get away when it started to sink."

"Can you take me to the area?"

The Khajiit fell silent, pondering for a moment. "Yes."

I nodded. "Where is your master?"

"Ajira is the Chieftain's slave."

I was back outside before she could say anything else, pounding my way to the Chieftains tent. I wrapped my fist on the frame. "Chieftain, it's me again."

"Enter." Grazob looked at me with a funny grin. "Back already?"

"I need to buy your slave."

She sat up in bed picking dirt from the corners of her eyes. "Oh, which one?"

"The potion maker, the cat," I said quickly, stumbling over my words.

"No." The Chieftain replied immediately. "She is indispensable. I can't get anyone with her skill in the healing arts."

I gritted my teeth. "I'll trade you my whole estate for her, even the bard."

The Chieftain met my gaze. "What is this about Bargrum? This doesn't seem like you."

I looked away. "There's an old friend I lost track of. I failed him once, I owe him a great debt. Your healer knows him."

Grazob stood up. "So you're leaving us? What of your kinship with my warriors? You know we need you. Soon I plan to conduct a raid on Balmora. Just think of it. The center of Hlaalu power and wealth. You would leave us at such a critical juncture? No. No, I will not have it."

I gritted my teeth and turned to see that she was allowing no argument. "I understand the pain of stained honor, but I am your Chieftain and I won't have you leave us. I forbid it."

We stared each other down for several moments, but in the end I relented, bitterly. "Yes Chieftain."

Grazob stepped close to me, running a hand down my side. "Perhaps there is something I can give to ease your heavy mind."

I stared at her, tempted, but to give in to her now would feel like I was letting her win. I withdrew, going to the tent flap. "No, there isn't."

I came to my tent to find Ja'Rassa eating. I bellowed for him to leave me and he scurried out of the tent. Once I was alone, I reached under my cot until I felt soft cloth. I withdrew and untied the carefully wrapped bundle. The sword was of Nord make, steel and silver. It was a broadsword and a work of art, with runes from an ancient Nord language. This was Master Han lu's sword. I unsheathed it and looked upon it. My mind wandered, weighing my choice between the honor of an Orc's ties with his Chieftain and the cunning practicality I'd learned was so useful from my time with Adairan Urshar.