Chapter VII

Valerie sat there on an old wooden chair by her unconscious Rontag's side, as he lay there on the bed. His breath was laboured, uneven. She was worried that at any moment it would stop altogether, and he would pass on, leaving her once again.

The small room they were in lay just off a larger tall circular indoor area known as the Hall of Countenance, which lay within the walls of the large College of Winterhold. The hall was washed an eerie blue colour, by the pillar of blue magic that flowed upwards, seemingly against nature, all the way up to the ceiling from a circular well in the middle of the two storey rotunda.

A female Bosmer mage by the name of Arellin stood over Rontag, keeping him alive with spells. Meanwhile Jo'Agro was working upstairs with Tam, trying to make a cure for the poison.

As she stared at Rontag's unconscious form, she feared a cure might not be found before either the healer gave up, or before he died. In all that had happened, there was one very small consolation. She had discovered that Tam was a true friend. She had carried Rontag's body all the way from the cave to the college, all without slowing her pace or uttering a single complaint. Only when he had been placed upon the bed where he currently lay, had Tam collapsed in sheer exhaustion.

They had then carefully removed his armour, placing it down at the far side of the room, leaving him laying there in a brown tunic and leggings.

Things could have easily turned out much differently though. When they had first arrived at the bridge that lead to the college, the man who stood guarding the bridge had been resistant to the idea of allowing them to bring Rontag there for treatment. Even Jo'Agro, who was a resident there had struggled to convince him. But finally with much pleading, he had managed to do so.

Now it was well over a dozen or so hours later. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon and was now back on the rise again, rendering the windows aglow with the light of dawn.

The Nord looked around at the sound of footsteps on the cold stone floor. Walking up to them with a vial in his hand was Jo'Agro, with Tam, who Valerie had started to see as a true friend, stood beside him.

"Is that the cure?" Valerie asked them.

"We believe so," Tam responded with sweat on her brow, as they both came to rest beside the bed.

"You believe!?" Valerie said frantically. "It better be."

"Don't worry, It appears the poison is similar to something I've seen before," Tam said.

The Khajiit mage looked Rontag up and down. "This one needs to be placed upright, as if sat."

Both Valerie and Tam carefully rose Rontag's torso into an upright position, his wife making sure she cradled his head to stop it from rolling. The healer, Arellin moved away, but remained within reach if any problems arose.

"Open Nord's mouth," Jo'Agro instructed. "The potion must be ingested."

Valerie became alarmed. "Won't that drown him?" she asked.

Tam shook her head. "No, we'll be giving him very small amounts over the next few minutes."

The Nord made sure her husband's mouth was fully open and that his throat was clear. Satisfied that it was she nodded at Tam before turning her attention to the Khajiit.

"Is there a problem with this one?" Jo'Agro asked Valerie.

"Sorry," the Nord apologised, "but do you mind if Tam gives him the potion?"

"Khajiit does not mind," he said, fully understanding her request.

Tam let Rontag go carefully, before she took the vial from Jo'Agro, leaving Valerie to hold her husband up by herself. She carefully tilted his chin up with her free hand so that the liquid had a more direct route into his stomach. The Altmer poured a tiny amount of the potion into Rontag's mouth. She waited for a moment before dribbling in a bit more.

Valerie felt her heart begin to thump hard in her chest. Either this would work or it wouldn't, and she dare not consider what would happen if it didn't. Her husband had only come back into her life only a few months ago and it seemed they had spent most of that time arguing and getting into fights.

As she watched Tam pour yet more of the potion into his mouth, she felt a strong bond of friendship between them. It was strange, when she had first met the Altmer, she had been so cruel to he. She had seen Tam as the one responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life, even though it couldn't possibly have been all her fault.

Strangely enough though, if Tam hadn't gone to Whiterun where Valerie had lived, she knew that Burag, the Orc that hunted Magoza would have most likely killed her when he had arrived there looking for blood. As it was, the Thalmor had come looking for Tam and she had seen them and wanted blood for everything they had put her through. She had blamed the Altmer for ruining her life. In truth, her life had long since been ruined. Ruined by her own inability to move on with her life, hoping that somehow her husband would come back to her. Which strangely enough had come true, but that wasn't the point. If she hadn't been so stuck in the past, then perhaps things would have been different. Now, she saw Tam as a true friend, someone she could trust.

Valerie's heart began to beat faster as Rontag's breath became more regular. She found herself smiling. Perhaps things would turn out all right after all.

She saw the Khajiit step back and whisper something to the healer Arellin. She was glad they had brought him along. Without his help there was the real possibility that Rontag would have died without hope. At least now they had that.

"The potion is working well, yes?" Jo'Agro said with what appeared to be a smile.

"Yes," Valerie agreed with an even wider smile.

The Khajiit grinned showing off his long sharp teeth. "Jo'Agro is happy that potion is working well."

"So am I," Valerie agreed. "And thank you," she said before looking at Tam. "Both of you." She then looked over at Arellin. "And I thank you as well."

"That's all of it," Tam said lowering Rontag's chin back down. "The bottle's empty."

"Do we need more?" Valerie asked her.

Jo'Agro walked over the bed. "More will not be needed."

"He's still not awake?" Valerie said, feeling fear begin to rise again.

"We only just gave him it," Tam pointed out. "It could be hours before he awakens, even longer for him to regain his strength. He might be laid upon that bed for some time to come."

"Okay," the Nord accepted reluctantly. "I'll wait till his eyes open."

Tam motioned for Valerie to rest Rontag back down on the bed. She did so slowly, placing his head carefully down onto the pillow.

The Nord looked across at the floor by the wall where Rontag's armour lay. When they had placed him upon the bed, they had carefully removed it, to allow him more room to breathe. She was glad they had, as holding him up while he was wearing such heavy armour, would have caused her pain, and worn her down. She felt she'd already had enough pain for one day.

"You should go get some rest," Tam suggested.

Valerie looked over to her friend. "No, I don't need any rest," she replied dismissively.

"You look exhausted," the Altmer told her, pointing out the obvious. "Get home and out of that old armour."

The Nord shook her head. "No, I want to be here when he wakes up."

Tam decided to accept Valerie's wishes and not push the matter any further. "I'll be here for you then. If you need anything, I'll try and fetch it for you. Or at least try to get someone to fetch it."

"All I want now is for my husband to get well," Valerie said solemnly. "All I want is to see him well," she repeated.


The sun peeked out from behind a white fluffy cloud, while the Karo's worked the fields and Magoza worked at the forge.

As with her new job role, Darovin had asked Magoza if she could start making some metal hinges. Several around the house and farm were starting to wear pretty badly, and he wanted fifteen for the house, and three larger ones for the guar pen's gate.

She had actually helped her mother make hinges before to replace ones at the stronghold. She knew the basics of how to make them, but feared that whatever she made might be worse than the worn down ones they already had. All the Orsimer could do was to try her best, and hope that she didn't mess it all up somehow.

She looked across at the fields, where she saw Darovin pulling up some dead crops. It was a common sight, and she felt bad about it. They always put so much effort into the farm, for such little in return.

Darovin stood up and wiped his brow. He looked across at her and waved. She returned the gesture, before continuing on with her work. She had to keep focused if she wanted these hinges to turn out half decent.

Her work was interrupted by footsteps behind her on the gravel. She looked around to see Brendarr walking up to her, before turning her attention back to the anvil. The Orsimer expected some derisive comments from the Dunmer. It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"How's it going?" he asked her.

Magoza looked over at him as he leant against the smelter. "Okay, I guess," she said as she turned back to her work.

"Whatcha making?"

"Hinges."

"Don't look much like hinges," he replied.

She forced herself to remain polite in her response. "That's because they aren't finished yet. I'm shaping the individual pieces."

"Do ya like me?" he asked her all of a sudden.

She turned to him, her brow raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Ya don't say much to me?"

Magoza thought for a moment. "I guess we don't have much to talk about," she finally replied.

"I suppose not."

Magoza shrugged. "Listen, I don't have anything against you, you seem like a nice person."

Brendar pointed at her. "I've got me eye on you," he said rather aggressively, before abruptly turning and leaving.

Magoza watched him walk away in silence. She found him strange. For some reason he had taken a disliking to her, and she didn't know why. She would have to talk to Darovin or Llandri about it sometime. She returned her attention back to the hinges, and continued to work the metal.

Soon the call for dinner was made, and they all went in to eat the same old broth they had eaten all winter.


Rasha found herself stood on a wooden beam above Faldan's front door, while two of the city guards stood there, talking to the rather worried looking Bosmer.

They wanted to search his home for some reason, and she knew if they found her there, then they'd both be in trouble. Serious trouble. Unfortunately the Bosmer had no choice but to let them in. As the two city guards stepped forward, Rasha silently dropped down behind them and slipped out the door.

She would have to hide somewhere while they searched the house. Where exactly that would be, she had a fairly good idea. It was just getting there.

Rasha headed into a particularly narrow alleyway. She took off her shoes and protracted her claws in both her hands and feet. With a deep inhalation, the Ohmes-Raht jumped up at the side of a house wall. She kicked off it, grabbing a hold of a gap in the mortar, pulling herself up. She then dug her toe claws into whatever gap she could find, pushing herself even further up.

After finding every small hand and foot hole, every possible imperfection she could get her claws into, she finally pulled herself onto the angled-tiled roof and carefully crawled up along the shallow, snow-covered surface to the apex, staring out at the white snowy roofs of the city.

She remembered back to when she was a cub in the city of Anvil in Cyrodiil. Of how her mother, a Cathay-Raht, had berated her for not only her ability, but willingness to climb everything in sight.

Many times when she and her mother had argued, she had taken refuge on the roof of their house. Her mother couldn't follow because she was a much larger breed, and climbing unless it involved strong ladders was almost an impossibility.

The Ohmes-Raht found herself smiling at the memory. Her mother was dead now, killed during the early months of the Great War between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Mede Empire. It was a common theme, wherever she went. A lot of children would be brought up this generation without one of their parents, or if they were especially unlucky, both. The war had been bloody and had taken many good souls before their time.

Rasha flattened herself against the freezing roof, and slid behind the apex as she saw two Windhelm guards leave a house across the way. It appeared as though they were not only searching Faldan's home, but others as well.

She peeked over the apex to see them hammering their fists against another door. Moments later it opened, and a rather fearful female Dunmer allowed them in.

Looking around, she was satisfied that the building behind was close enough so that she could not be seen from ground level. There also didn't appear to be any facing windows, which was good.

A flake of snow caught her eye as it fluttered past her face. Much to her annoyance, as she looked up at the sky she saw the thick white clouds overhead. The last thing she needed was for more snow to be added to the already white roof, especially when it was angled such as this one. Unlike the stairs she fell down, she had no illusions that she would survive falling off onto hard stone below.

Another flake of snow fell from the sky causing Rasha to clench her jaw. She hated Skyrim. Since she had arrived here, it seemed that it was determined to do nothing but to try and kill her.


Faldan watched as the guards pulled over shelves, threw his things on the floor, and generally smashed what little he owned.

They hadn't told him what they had been looking for, and he was certainly glad that Rasha had been able to escape unnoticed. He dreaded to think what would have happened if they had caught her here.

He watched in horror as one of the guards moved over towards the fireplace, kicking the frame that his cauldron stood on hard with his boot, causing it to topple over. It fell into the fireplace with a loud crash, the hot liquid not only snuffed out the flames, but it spilled out across the floor, into the pile of firewood he had laying nearby.

The guard turned to him. "We're done here," he said from behind his helmet. They then both headed for the door, leaving the small house in a complete mess.

The Bosmer looked around. All his clay bowls had been smashed against the hard stone floor, and his only cabinet lay on its side splintered and beyond repair. The worst of it was the stew and the fire. He didn't have the funds to replace the food that had just gone to waste, nor the wet firewood.

For now he'd have to leave it. The large cauldron was probably still far too hot to touch, and the small cloth rag was not enough to shield him from the prolonged heat if he attempted to lift it.

He rubbed his eyes before walking over to his small table, lifting it back up on its legs. He then picked up a chair and sat on it.

He would leave it a good half hour before he took the large iron cauldron from the fireplace. He'd then see if he could dry off the wood. If not, then he would be in for a very cold night.

He rested his head in his hands and began to weep. He'd had no idea how good life in Minestead was, until it had all been snatched away by his own stupidity. He had been so fixated on returning to Valenwood, that he had thrown away his own life. Sure he had been placed there by the Thalmor, but it had started to feel somewhat like a home.

He would never see the young Breton woman, Emily's smile ever again. He would never hear the stories of the Colovian man Aulus, when he served on the Legion. He would never hear any of it ever again, he would never see any of them ever again and it was his fault.

"They really messed this place up didn't they?" he heard a familiar voice say from behind him.

He turned around to see Rasha standing in the doorway. "They might see you if you stand there," he said with a sniffle.

The Khajiit quickly closed the door behind her, before walking over to the table. She picked up one of the fallen chairs and sat opposite him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No," he replied, a tear running down his cheek. "I'm not."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No," he said wiping his face. "But I am ready to leave this place."

"Well pack your things, because I plan on leaving the city sometime before dawn tomorrow."

Faldan looked around. "There's nothing to pack."

He had nothing here that he held any sentimental value to. He had left all of that behind in Minestead. All he wanted now was to begin anew. To have no worries about the Thalmor, to have no worries about his house being smashed up.

All it was that he truly wanted, was to be happy. But it was too late for that. Far too late.


Tam stepped into their small house in Winterhold. She had come here to check up on the place, and make sure that the fire hadn't gone out, or that nobody had taken it upon themselves to rob the place while they had been staying at the college.

Unfortunately the fire had gone out, though there was still a distinct glow indicating that it hadn't been out long. She could also see steam coming off the broth, and after a quick sniff she found that it still smelt good, meaning they wouldn't have to throw it out.

It only took a moment to get the fire going again, adding more firewood and stoking it till the flames started lapping up the chimney. Happy with that, she checked the house to see if anyone had indeed saw fit to take anything. Satisfied she made her way over to the breadbox and got herself some bread and a bowl.

She served herself some of the broth before sitting down at the table, her mind wandering back over the past few months here in Winterhold.

It had been mostly serene up until a few days ago, when Valerie and Rontag had started falling out. While the two had argued before, none of them had been as bad as they had been over the last two days. Both of them had been about Magoza, someone who Valerie still mourned the death of.

She put the thoughts out of her mind as she picked up the bowl, and drunk the liquid out of it. Tam knew if Valerie were here she would berate her for not using a spoon, but right at that moment she didn't care.

With the bowl empty, she took it outside and washed it off in the snow, before taking it back inside and placing it over the mantelpiece to dry.

The Altmer took a good long look around the house before leaving, locking the door behind her.

She headed back up towards the mages college where she would spend the night in the event that any problems regarding Rontag arose.

Updated 01/04/2014