Chapter Eighteen—A Day In The Life
Laurelin and Farkas lay sprawled together on her bed in Breezehome, reading. Occasionally he would turn to her and ask about pronunciation of a word or a definition, which she cheerfully gave. Late afternoon sunshine slanted through the slats in the roof, catching on motes of dust and the fine haze of smoke that filtered up through the floorboards. Vilkas was downstairs, muttering curses about the cheap alchemical equipment in her tiny lab while he experimented.
Lydia moved about the small cooking area, preparing her favorite stew. She diced vegetables while she sang an old marching song, thinking she was the only one who paid attention. Laure and Farkas upstairs, and Vilkas downstairs all quietly hummed the stirring tune.
Later, when supper was ready, Laurelin and Farkas came downstairs and helped serve out the stew. Vilkas tinkered in the lab a while longer before setting his experiments aside to join everyone else out in the main room. Together they enjoyed the hearty meal, then cleaned up after themselves.
Vilkas picked up the most recent tome on restoration magic and resumed the study he had been engaged in for the last two weeks, along with Farkas. They were both making progress, each now able to perform basic healing magics on themselves and others.
Laure settled onto Farkas' lap, and they picked up their own books once more, sipping mead, quietly turning pages one by one. His big hand roamed up her back, curved around to wrap lightly around her waist. Comfortably snuggled up, every once in a while they would share a lingering kiss, then turn attention back to the books.
Lydia had sensed a renewal of their more intimate affections but had no way of knowing up till now. Her eyes flew to Vilkas, who seemed unperturbed by the kisses. She settled down near the fire to oil the leather of her armor and tighten the straps and ignored the three other warriors as best she could.
It was impossible however, to ignore her Thane's whoop when Farkas later scooped her up in his powerful arms, carried her upstairs, and kicked the door shut.
Lydia, who had openly stared as Farkas' broad back faded into the shadows upstairs jumped a little when the door banged closed. Her gaze darted back to Vilkas and found him staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, then dropping his silver eyes to hold hers.
Muffled laughter filtered down, and Lydia was feeling remarkably uncomfortable all of a sudden. Vilkas simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged before returning to his book once more. Confused, Lydia finished quickly with her armor and retreated to her room with a stiff, "Goodnight, Vilkas."
"Goodnight, Lydia," he replied in a distracted tone, not lifting his eyes from the book in his hands.
Lydia tossed back the last of her drink and slammed the mug onto the wooden counter top. Eyes watering, she lifted her finger to order another. Hulda took her coin and refilled the mug without a word.
Lydia didn't usually come to the Mare to drink, but she did sometimes stay here when Breezehome became too crowded, as it was starting to feel these days. She didn't understand her thane sometimes. She moved her mug and bowl of stew to a back table and sat in the only open seat, near Anoriath, the Bosmer game and meats merchant in town. He and his brother also ran the Drunken Huntsman, right across the road from Breezehome.
Anoriath smiled her way and lifted his mead. Lydia smiled briefly in return before turning to her meal, chewing and swallowing with mechanical efficiency but not really tasting the savory herbs and rich gravy. Her thoughts were focused on her thane.
"You seem troubled, Lydia. Is there anything I can do to help?" Anoriath asked politely of his neighbor, bringing the woman from her reverie. Her first inclination was to tell him nothing, but as she sat back and looked at him again, she realized that he might perhaps be just the sort of person she needed to talk to. She really needed to speak to another Bosmer to gain some perspective. Still, it made her uncomfortable to think she might be perceived as gossiping about her thane.
Finally, in a low voice she asked, "What can you tell me about your people? My thane is a good woman, but I find myself confused by her actions lately. I just don't know what to expect anymore. I think I've got her figured out, and then she turns around and does something outrageous."
"I'm afraid you'll need to be more specific than that," remarked the mer with a small smile.
Lydia stood up and gestured for Anoriath to follow her and they both left the inn, drinks in hand. They walked along the inside of the city walls in silence for a few moments while the housecarl gathered her thoughts.
"First off, not a word of this gets spoken to anyone. I guess I'm just confused. My thane has her mate and I know she is madly in love with him. But now she has taken another lover, which I don't understand. I know she cares for both men; it just perplexes me how this is all going to work out. What if she gets pregnant? They probably wouldn't even be able to tell who the father is!"
"Ah, I see. Laurelin has retaken Farkas as a lover. I had a few suspicions." The mer sighed, staring fondly up at the stars. "Poor Elrindir, he did have his hopes.
"Lydia, I don't know what to tell you. It is natural for thinking people of all races to form attachments of all types to many different people. We love our parents, siblings, families. We are devoted to friends and partners, our mates. We form relationships with people who support us, challenge us, provide balance or contrast. People have complex needs, emotionally and physically, sometimes financially and other ways. Rarely is one person actually capable of being all things to another person."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked curiously.
"Among my people, we recognize that to be jealous or overly possessive about someone or something is unhealthy. I don't want to seem like I'm lecturing, so just realize it is normal among our people and accepted that an individual may have love and physical attachments to more than one person. Someone may have a bond with a single person for years and then form another, or keep the same mate their whole life. As long as everyone is happy and in the relationship freely, then we don't judge."
"I guess what I don't understand is why she stopped taking Farkas to her bed in the first place, if she was only going to go back to him anyway."
"She probably did that because it's usually easier when we take human lovers. You get so worked up about fidelity," he chuckled softly. "She and Vilkas have a powerful bond. They needed some time to get to really know each other better. For him to grow accustomed to being in a different kind of relationship. Now that they are more comfortable with each other, it's reasonable, especially in their situation, to experiment a little to see how everyone will fit together."
"That seems so complicated; why introduce that which might confuse the issue into a good relationship? Isn't one man enough?"
"Lydia, if they all communicate well enough, the issue won't be confused. Stop over-thinking it and accept what is," Anoriath said gently.
Frowning, Lydia rolled her eyes. "Gods, I try not too. It's tough when the walls are parchment thin."
"I gather that is why you've been at the Mare so often of late." Anoriath seemed amused by Lydia's mood and couldn't resist poking fun. "My house is much quieter; you could share my bed-"
"Sure, I'll just fall into bed with you right now, Anoriath," she snickered and turned around, heading back into the Mare. "Goodnight, and thanks for listening."
The Bosmer man waved, "My pleasure, and if you ever want to take me up on my offer, just say the word!" He watched the lovely woman stride away, then turned toward home whistling a tune through his teeth. He wasn't about to tell his brother—Elrindir would find out eventually. But it amused him to see his somewhat arrogant, better looking brother stymied in his pursuit of the lovely Dragonborn. Greatly amused him indeed.
Vilkas quietly closed the door behind him. He tugged his trousers higher on his hips and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. Sweat shone on his lean torso, dampened the dark curls on his chest, his hair pushed out into wild tangles by Laurelin's fingers. Teeth and scratch marks dotted his skin, further evidence of her exuberance.
A moment later, the door to Lydia's room opened and she stepped out, clad in short linen trousers and a short-sleeved chemise, her long, dark hair also a tangled mess.
Her eyes met Vilkas', took in his disheveled state, then flew to the closed door, which did little to muffle the energetic sounds of Laurelin and Farkas together in the other room. Her mouth formed a small O while she attempted to make sense of what she was seeing. She had seen her thane and Farkas snuggling together nearly every day, recently had even seen him take her up to her room, heard the aftermath of their coupling.
She just hadn't quite expected Vilkas to participate and seem so calm about another man and his woman.
"Don't over-think it, Lydia. We're adults and we've talked about it between us," murmured Vilkas after finishing his water. He refilled his cup and stared at her over the rim. Little did he know it was almost exactly what Anoriath had said to her not long before.
"Whatever, I really don't care what you three get up to in there, as long as she's safe. Goodnight," she finally muttered and retreated into her room, once more closing the door firmly behind her.
Vilkas grabbed the pitcher of water and slipped back into the warmth of the bedroom, knowing they'd both be as thirsty as he.
Vilkas said a few quiet words to Laure the next morning while they were having breakfast together, to which she readily agreed. Lydia deserved a better arrangement. As neither Laurelin nor Vilkas had any carpentry or stone working skills, it was decided that they would hire some craftsmen to come make improvements on Breezehome.
"Might as well fix up the roof and outer walls while we're at it," mused Laure, who was jotting down a list of things she wanted repaired.
Vilkas glanced over the list and snorted in disbelief, "What, no plans to build a stargazing turret?" Her blue eyes snapped to his, widening in delight.
"Stargazing . . .turret . . ." she scribbled down and smirked up at him with an eyebrow quirked in challenge. "Any other brilliant ideas?"
"I was jesting, you know."
"Of course. I still like the idea. Although a little balcony or porch would be nicer, I think. With some cushions to lay back on maybe." She stared off into space a moment then brushed her flight of fancy to the side for the time being.
"I noticed yesterday that we are almost caught up on our workload, and it's been a week since our last report of any dragon attacks. It's almost quiet around here. Maybe we can actually get a few improvements done to the house before I get called away for another crisis." She idly toyed with the quill in her hands.
"No one has seen Alduin in over a month now. Do you think he's lying low?"
"More likely that he's terrorizing some other part of the continent. I wish I knew. Actually, I wish we had ourselves an Elder Scroll and the Dragonrend Shout. This Dragonborn business is growing to be a heavy burden that I don't think I'll ever be relieved of. . . ."
Vilkas reached over and stroked her cheek, seeing the truth with his own eyes. Always slender, the tiny amounts of fat she had previously had on her body had melted away in months of training and battle, long restless nights, the stress of everybody needing to be rescued from troubles great and small. The expectations heaped on her to be a savior were piled high on her back, and he could see the toll it took on her in the dark circles under her eyes, the spareness of her frame. Fine lines he had never noticed before had appeared, but maybe it was just because she was too thin.
He and his twin shouldered as much of the work as she would let them, but each brother wished to do more. A few short breaks aside, his mate had been on the go since he had met her. "We're all here to help, if you would stop being so stubborn and delegate more of the workload out. Or you could learn to tell people no."
"I delegate plenty. There is just so much to do." She pushed her shoulder-length hair from her face and rubbed her temple a moment, before standing. "Sitting here griping isn't going to get the work done. Shall we find ourselves someone who can start on the house?"
"Absolutely. Then I need to check on the whelps, see how training is progressing."
"Erik seems as though he is doing well enough." Vilkas made a non-committal noise and shrugged.
"Aye he's improving, but he still has more enthusiasm than skill. But we all start somewhere." Hand in hand, they left Breezehome, chatting about inconsequential matters as they wandered through town in search of a few skilled craftsmen.
Once again, weeks and then months rolled by. For three weeks, workmen showed up at dawn and crawled over every inch of Breezehome, replacing the roof, patching walls, upgrading the interior. In the end, the house had been spruced up nicely, was more soundproof, and they were all enjoying the addition of a narrow balcony on the second floor that afforded a glorious view of the night sky, the Throat of the World, and even the sunrise and set. Laurelin had set out huge overstuffed cushions that completely filled the little area on the southern side of the house and defiantly stared down a snickering Farkas. For some reason it always made him laugh when he caught her nesting.
Farkas and Eorland finally finished three complete sets of dragon armor, meticulously pieced together from the scraps of hide, scales, horn, and bone. When they finally carried the bundles of armor home to try on, it was with excitement that they spoke of breaking it in and testing it against their foes. They helped each other don and buckle each piece, then stood back to admire the fit.
"Color me impressed; perfect as always, Farkas!" remarked Laurelin as she admired her new gauntlets. "How did you make this so light?"
"For yours we used more of the scale and hide over a light chain mesh, and only used bone to reinforce the more vital areas so your movement shouldn't be hindered. Here, how does this shield feel?"
He handed her a shield edged with the curved horns of several dragons. She hoisted it, admired the light, sturdy make, and smiled widely. "Oh-ho! Perfect! I can't wait to smash Alduin's face with this when he turns back up."
All three of them visibly slumped at the mention of the World Eater. He had disappeared months ago and no one knew where he had gone to ground. Fewer dragons attacked, but Laurelin knew a reckoning was fast approaching. The dozens of dragons she had slain whispered in her mind; and sometimes her bones hurt, her wolf trying to break free in reaction to the threat she could feel building in the air.
"Heard anything from the college yet?" asked Farkas carefully while he fingered the buckle of his sword belt.
"Nothing much. They still search for a location that might hold an Elder Scroll, or give a hint to where one might be. Arch-Mage Shea'a sent a letter a few weeks ago, but it was just a note to say they still search." Laure dropped to the bed and flopped over, biting her lip in frustration.
Vilkas eased himself onto the bed next to her and took one of her hands in his. "Is there any reason why we don't just go help with the search?"
"Well, no. I suppose there isn't. I didn't want to interfere in their operation, whatever it is. And I confess, it was convenient to hope that they might have a way to find one quickly. I see now that was a silly expectation to have."
"From what I gathered, Laurelin, their operation was sending novices out with little to no preparation or experience. Perhaps the Arch-Mage was just trying to save you the trouble of combing the realm for the right place."
"We know she was, bless her chilly, golden heart. Ah, you're right, love. If we don't hear back from her by the end of the week, I think we should join up and see if we can hasten the process." With a groan she flailed a moment until she figured out how to roll to the side on the soft mattress in her stiff new armor, and rose. She and Farkas helped hoist Vilkas up, and they started the lengthy process of getting out of their gear so they could cook supper.
It was Lydia's night off, and rumor had it she had been seen walking the walls during the evening with a certain Bosmer huntsman, so they were fending for themselves.
Laurelin and the twins said goodbye to everyone in Jorrvaskr and filed out. As they jogged down the stairs in their matching dragon armor, Danica waved from under the Gildergreen, where she was telling stories to a group of children under the pink blossoms. Since it had begun blooming again, there had been a steady stream of pilgrims who wished to sit and pray, feel the presence of Kynareth. Which had also increased the number of offerings left in the temple, and drawn several new acolytes, leaving Danica more free time, which she used to educate the local children about her goddess.
One of the youngsters jumped to her feet and raced over, throwing herself around Laurelin's waist, heedless of the bone and spikes jutting here and there. "Miss Dragonborn! Danica was just telling us about how you helped bring back the Gildergreen tree! Did you really fight a hagraven? Those things sound scary, but the tree is so pretty! I'm glad you fixed the tree."
Laure grinned down to the girl and stroked her short, brown hair. "Aye, Lucia, fought a hagraven and stole her cursed blade from her trove of ill-gotten treasures. You can only imagine the putrid smell coming off of her while she screeched at the top of her lungs how she would carve out my eyeballs and roast them and eat them!" Playfully Laure tickled the girl, who writhed in her arms, shrieking with laughter. Laurelin set her down a moment later, catching a glimpse in the corner of her eye of a courier striding up the steps toward Dragonsreach.
Lucia stood with her hands on her hips, cheeks flushed and eyeing the trio's getups critically. "Are you going out to fight again?"
Laurelin squatted down to put herself at eye level with the girl, who had lost her whole family recently. "Aye, little one. If I do, maybe I can stop more orphans being made."
Lucia braided her fingers together, examining the resulting knot closely. "Will you come back?"
"I'll try my hardest, sweetheart." Lucia nodded her acceptance of this and dove into Laure's arms, nearly bowing the mer over.
"Please come back soon. No one was kind to me after they died. Not really. But you are. Kind." She whispered and pressed a soft kiss to Laure's cheek, then pulled away, heading back to the group under the tree.
Farkas tugged the bemused elf along by the elbow. "Come on, Mama Bear. Get moving."
"I am not-" she objected.
"You are," put in Vilkas mildly.
Laure shook off the sad, tender moment as they jogged through town. A small crowd of people waiting to leave town had bunched up near the gate and caused the three Companions to slow their steps. While they awaited their turn to pass through the milling, boisterous group, Vilkas noticed a courier edging through, tugging elbows. He watched as a local farmer scanned the crowd and poked a finger in the direction of his mate. The messenger sidled through and approached Laure.
"Message for Laurelin Vo'Shai, Harbinger of the Companions and Dragonborn, from the College of Winterhold." The young man handed over a sealed letter and wandered back through the crowd. Laure opened the note and scanned it, a grim smile spreading over her face. When she was done, she passed the note to Vilkas, while Farkas read over his brother's shoulder. We are close now, I can feel it. We have made some exciting new discoveries. Given the nature of this undertaking I feel it is prudent to invite you to join us on the next stage of our journey. I feel your unique experiences to date will be valuable as we continue. If it is at all with in your means, please meet me at the college as soon as possible.
S.
"Right in time, wouldn't you say?" she asked when they looked up from the scrap of paper.
"Right in time," they both agreed.