Volund let his pack thud heavily against the ground with a relieved sigh, then more gently laid his sword, shield, bow, and quiver down beside it. He and Lydia had divided the gold evenly between their packs, but even half was enough to strain the straps on the sturdy bags, not to mention the muscles of the one carrying it. Lydia's gear, minus a small hatchet, was resting on the ground already at the site they had chosen as campground for the night. Axe in hand, the housecarl was gathering and cutting firewood. Volund busied himself finding makeshift seats; a short piece of what was once either a very thick branch or a thin tree served nicely as one, and a large, flat rock not far away looked ideal for another. On closer inspection, however, the rock was bigger than Volund had thought. Nevertheless, he carried it over to his chosen site with no small amount of strain. He considering heavily just Shouting at the thing and hoping it went where he wanted, but resisted the temptation. When both seats were in place, he began to clear an area for a fire and line it with small stones.
Lydia returned with enough firewood for the night not long after he had finished his task, and the two of them worked together in companionable silence arranging the first of the branches into the right shape to catch fire easily.
They had camped out several nights already in their travels. Although Lydia had been almost scandalized the first time Volund had informed her that regardless of what other jarls and thanes did, he intended to do his share of the work, by now an efficient division of the necessary tasks had become almost habit.
With everything done except to start the fire, Volund sat down on his rock. Lydia, ignoring the other 'seat,' knelt beside him, watching him attentively.
"Ok, where to start," Volund mused. "How much do you already know about magic, in general?"
"Almost nothing, my thane. Irileth can use a little, and certainly doesn't fear or hate it like many do, but she also never attempted to teach me about it. Maybe she's given up trying to convince Nords that magic is acceptable. Other than her, the only mage I've ever known is Farengar, and I'm sure he fancies himself much too important to teach anyone else anything."
Volund smiled. "No doubt. Well, then, I'll tell you what I know, which is only the basics. There are five schools of magic – destruction, restoration, alteration, illusion, and conjuration. They're divided up not just because each produces different results, but also because each requires a different skill set and a different way of thinking to successfully cast spells. Destruction creates and directs natural forces. Restoration is the art of returning something to its natural state. Alteration makes permanent changes in reality, while illusion makes people think that reality has changed. Conjuration is concerned with calling, or blocking, intruders from other realities. I know almost nothing about that school," he admitted.
Lydia nodded, following the basic explanations easily and privately feeling relief that Volund was in no way associated with conjurers. Open as she was to magic, daedra and the undead seemed better to avoid. Volund resumed speaking without pause, however, and she listened carefully.
"Although each school is performed with a different process and a different goal, one thing is always true. The more you know about what you're trying to accomplish, the easier it will be to do. For instance, the more intimately acquainted with fire you are, the easier it will be to cast a fire spell. Making fires, knowing how they burn different substances and what substances resist burning, knowing the type of ashes a fire will leave behind when it burns out, knowing how hot a flame is by its color, and how it reacts to air and wind, and many other factors all contribute to knowing how to cast a fire spell. If you don't know all these things, you can still cast a fire spell, but it will drain your magicka much more quickly. I think that's because a lot of it is wasted. If you know every detail of what you're making, you can focus your mind more sharply and direct your magicka more precisely; otherwise, your mind's eye sees only vague shapes and blurry images, and you have to spread your magicka across all the unknown possibilities."
"That's why healers want to study dead bodies," Lydia said suddenly. "I'm sorry, my thane, please continue. I just had always wondered about that."
"That's right," he said, undisturbed. "A dead person can't be healed, of course, but it's easier to study, and the more familiar one is with bodies, how they work, and what they are made of, the easier it is to heal a living one. It's also much easier to heal yourself than it is to heal another person, because you always know your own body, but another person is unfamiliar." He paused for a moment in thought. "I hear that it's also much easier for a Nord to heal another Nord than it is to heal an Argonian, for instance. It all comes down to familiarity. I heard a story once about a master smith who couldn't cast a spell if his life depended on it, except for one: he knew ore and metal so well that he could change iron into gold or ebony when he wanted to. I don't know if it's true or not, but it's a good illustration."
Lydia nodded again.
"Well, enough talking. Let's try to cast a fire spell. It's all in how you approach it, how you think about it. Close your eyes, and just think about fire for a minute." Lydia squeezed her eyes tight shut. "Got it?" She nodded. "Open your eyes, and cup your hand a little. Think about that fire appearing in your hand. Will it to happen, want it to happen, believe it will happen. Visualize the fire being pushed out of your mind's eye, out of your imagination, and into your hand..." he broke off when a small flicker of fire, barely visible, flashed for a second in Lydia's fingers.
She had seen it, too; she jumped, and shook her hand as if it were still on fire. Volund laughed.
"It won't hurt you; it will do exactly what you want it to do. It was a great start; try again and this time, when you get it, think about pushing it even further out, onto the logs here."
Lydia's brow furrowed in concentration. She closed her eyes, flexed her hand, opened her eyes, and a flicker of flame appeared again. It moved forward slowly in a large cone, eventually reaching the logs in the freshly made fire pit. Lydia held it on the logs for a few seconds before it sputtered and died, and she gasped. It had been enough; one of the logs had caught fire, and the small flame was slowly spreading to the rest of the wood.
Lydia inhaled and exhaled heavily.
"I couldn't do any more, my thane. It feels like…" she hesitated. "It feels like I'm tired, but… in muscles I don't have. Does that make any sense?"
Volund nodded. "That's exactly how I would describe it – and it's totally normal. That's your sense of your own magicka. If it feels exhausted and you can't cast spells anymore, it means you've run out of magical energy. You probably don't have very much stamina for spellcasting, because you've never done it. In some ways, it is like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets and the longer you can go without tiring. Just practice your spell when you have time to yourself, and you'll get stronger at it. I'm impressed, though. You got the hang of it faster than I did. The spell will be stronger if you focus it into a smaller stream rather than a big cone, and your endurance needs work, but you did a great job. You've officially used magic now!"
A smile slowly grew on Lydia's face as she listened to Volund's praise and watched the fire she had made without tools or torches.
"Thank you, my thane," was all she could say. Volund nodded in return.
The travelers pulled a light supper from their bags and ate it quickly. Although the fire burned brightly, it was now solidly night-time. Lydia's face still beamed with pride, but changed quickly when a yawn attacked her.
"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Volund asked. Lydia nodded, slightly red-faced. Volund stood and stretched. "Get some rest, Lydia. I'll take the first watch; I'm not very tired anyway."
Gratefulness and obedience won out over her sense of outrage that her thane should be deprived of sleep, and Lydia unrolled her small sleeping roll, shed the metal parts of her armor, and crawled inside the makeshift bed. Volund stood with his back to the fire and to her, scanning the landscape around them.
Lydia opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again after a moment. She shook her head, and closed her eyes, images of the watchful Dragonborn still in her mind nevertheless. Within minutes, she was asleep.
Author's note: Does anyone else feel like it's harder to find time to write on weekends than during the work week? Another short chapter today for that reason, but don't worry; Skyrim has a lot in store for the reluctant Dragonborn and his housecarl in the near future! I'd also like to thank fellow author Valerianus for being a gracious sounding board for some upcoming story ideas. It's a big help!