*




Perfect imagery you gave this scene stealing imp!




ROFL !!! Sparky has become quite the celeb ... er ... personality!



Powerful ending to the homespun feel of the chapter! The reader may have seen this blow coming, but gets the feeling this is the first time Abiene has realized the impact of her actions/heart. It also seems Darnand won't be the only one missing her when she goes to Chorrol, she has a soothing effect on all the men and may evoke a pilgrimmage of the Anvil chapter to Chorrol behind her when she goes, lol.

Great Chapter, wonderfully written !!!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: May 26 2011, 04:00 PM

Edit: That all came out wrong, not the way I had intended it to appear at all.

But now back to the current episode:
How does a healer care for herself?”
Abiene’s mind leaped straight to Jerric. Find someone who loves you and don’t let them go, she thought
Ahh, the classic mistake. That of course, only makes things worse. Because it only adds one more person she has to take care of. Back in my Human Sexuality class in college, I learned that married women are the most unhealthy people in the world, because they have to spend so much time taking care of everyone in their household, that there is literally no time for them to take care of themselves. And of course no one else is going to do it for them.

Formed from the blood of Anu
A nice touch of world-building there.

No mortal ever loved pie more than Jerric.
Yes, hair-pie!

All in all, a lovely segment, giving us a look into Abiene's life at the guild hall, her ordinary trials with the abused child, etc... Thaurron really shines here. You have given him a great deal of depth and personality in a very short space, making him and his pet imp leap off the page. I wish I had someone like him to warm my bath water. I always make it too hot, or too cold as well...




nits:
And he’ll go on to who knows what.
I am thinking you wanted to end with a question mark here.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 30 2011, 04:16 PM

* Gripe removed. I just wish the adults on here would remember that this site is primarily here for and filled with minors. Our attitudes in everything we say and do on here as adults should reflect that and be cognizant of and responsible with the impressions we are leaving with our words.

This post has been edited by mALX: May 26 2011, 10:13 PM

I am sorry that you take it that way. I do worry about people thinking something like that, and often bite my lip. But the fact of the matter is that I have never met a woman (who was attracted to men), who was not attracted to bad boys. And I have met a lot of women! I do not think of that as degrading or demeaning of them. It just is what it is, and I am not the first person to notice it.

But since you commented, in the future I will refrain from making any remarks about the subject. I am not here to offend you.

Grits, this was a delightfully written episode. The style is both silky and subtle, while the content was simultaneously relaxing and powerful. Just some examples:

'The cold night air bore a hint of low tide and wood smoke.'

'Green brocade and velvet provided a background for the lavish display of gold trim on his doublet. '

“There is much you are not saying. Heat in your eyes and sand in your shoes this past week. What will you do, Abiene?”


My heart aches for Abiene (and Jerric and Darnand, and our Bosmeri widower).

Sparky tends to the steal the show whenever he graces anyone's fanfic, but your content here was so good that even the Sparkmeister could not upstage Abiene.

In case it isn't clear, I thoroughly enjoyed this!

Very, very enjoyable, and I don't say that lightly here. Abiene is fast becoming one of my favorite characters ever. You are competing with published authors now, Grits, that is how well you have done with her.

Of course she kept her own possessions under lock and key. At least since the time he ate her skin cream, then regurgitated on her rug.



I am at loss for words. All I can say is don't stop now, cause I'm having such a good time. (I'm having a ball!)

haute ecole rider: Indeed, this one could have been titled “Abiene’s Slumber Party.” If she ever visits the guild in Bravil, it will be estrogen overload. I have to give TK the credit for the scene where Sparky lit Marc’s shirt on fire, that was in Light Through Darkness. He hasn’t attacked anyone in this story, I’m afraid my Carahil would draw the line there! Still, Thaurron has shown that taming a creature is far from training it. He could use a visit from the Imp Whisperer.

mALX: You’re absolutely right, this is the first time Abiene has really faced what she knows, that the two of them are heading off in opposite directions. She would take Thaurron with her to Chorrol if she could! I’m glad you enjoyed Sparky’s antics!

SubRosa: I hope I can clear something up about the way I have portrayed Jerric. I don’t think it’s coming across. Jerric drinks, gets in fights, and has a lot of casual sex. Sometimes he has to kill people. That does not make him an alcoholic, thug, bully, rapist, or murderer. It also does not make him a good candidate for priesthood. If I haven’t objected to the term bad boy applied to him, it’s because I did not think it was being used as a synonym for evil man.

One of the things I’ve tried to show is Jerric not cashing in on his dangerous appearance. (Meaning physically imposing, scarred, and generally armed to the teeth.) He shut down Astia in Skingrad because he thought she was misjudging him. He decided that Anette in Weye was too young to make an informed decision about him. The tweenage girls in Weye are an example of people who saw his character. They judged him based on his behavior, smiling and helping a local fisherman. They would not have been giggling and sneaking peeks if they felt threatened. I hope I showed that Abiene was drawn to him because he reminded her of her sweet boyfriend from home that she still has feelings for. She found out quickly that Jerric is likeable, and he made her laugh. Score. I would say that being a decent guy got him laid that day. She didn’t think he was a thug at all, and that appealed to him.

Here’s the context for his killing/raping remark:

They wandered toward the edge of the crowd, sipping their drinks. “You are outrageous,” Abiene said. “Is there anyone you don’t flirt with?”

“I have to compensate. Folk don’t tend to like me right away.”

Abiene looked at him over her cup. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, folk look at you and think, ‘Here’s a nice woman. Sweet face and the hands of a healer. Dibella must love her.’ They look at me and think, ‘There goes a man on his way to a killing. Maybe he’ll stop and do some raping first.’ So I start off with a smile.”

He’s explaining the disadvantage of some people assuming the worst of him. They would have those thoughts and go to the other side of the street when they see him. When Jerric talks about some people thinking his scars must mean he is a monster, he is unhappy about it, not bragging. Other people (like Abiene) know that the scars only mean that something hurt him, and he survived it.

There would be some women who are now drawn to Darnand as a result of his new reputation. Presumably these women would be straight, but that should in no way imply that all straight women would fall into this category. This is something Jerric would anticipate based on his own experience. He would also anticipate that Darnand would not see this as a positive development, as he does not. But they haven’t had a chance to get into that yet.

I have to say, my first thought about women who would want to sleep with men because they have murdered women is “They must be bat-poop crazy,” not “They must be straight.”

I’m glad you enjoyed Thaurron. He has been important for Abiene, but I haven’t had much chance to show it. She would not have thrived in Anvil without a mutually nurturing relationship like she had at home with Ilonea. As Darnand said, she thinks the whole world is her patient. Good catch on the pie.

Acadian: Thank you so much, Acadian! I wanted this episode to have the feeling of Abiene, and your words tell me that it did. I appreciate knowing that the friends have touched your heart, especially Thaurron. It will be hard to leave him in Anvil. No matter what they say about Bosmeri, I find they can be quite winsome.

Thomas Kaira: Thank you so much for your kind words about Abiene. She keeps giving herself a bigger role, and I’ve stopped arguing. I am so honored by her appearance in your story!

Where we are: A long Loredas ran into Sundas morning at the Mages Guild.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 17

Jerric opened the front door of the Mages Guild and followed his nose into the dining hall. Sundas breakfast was worth getting up for. A Nord cook knew how to make the most of winter ingredients. He blessed Hjordhild’s heritage as he filled his plate. Potato cakes with sour cream and applesauce, ham chopped into cubes and fried with onions and potatoes, pumpkin muffins, cheesy eggs baked with sausage and sun-dried tomatoes, and a slice of cornbread with strawberry preserves to balance on top. He reached for the tall pitcher of kahve. One large pottery mug now waited behind the cluster of regular-sized ceramic ones. He smiled as he filled it. Hjordhild likes me, he decided.

Jerric turned to the Imperial next to him at the sideboard. The lad’s grey eyes were wide with the expression Jerric was still not comfortable seeing. He looked at the lad’s plate.

“Don’t be shy,” Jerric told him. “At your age, even Imperials have a hollow leg.” He poured another mug while the lad heaped more eggs on his plate. “Here you go.”

The Imperial took the kahve, eyes even wider. “Thank you, sir,” he gulped. He quickly moved to sit at the long table with the other young associates and students. Just this summer I was sitting there, Jerric thought.

He sipped his kahve as he made his way over to Carahil’s table. There was a space on the bench opposite Darnand and Thaurron, next to Gulitte. He folded himself into it, careful not to bruise Felen in his customary spot at the foot of the table. Nods and murmured greetings did not interrupt the conversation in progress. Darnand looked pale, preoccupied, and a little tense. He’s back to normal, Jerric thought. Though the shadows under his eyes were perhaps darker than usual.

“I heard the Anvil Guard finally put a stop to the gang of women who have been preying on the town’s men,” Felen was saying. Jerric decided Felen must have been up gossiping before dawn.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug.

“They were killed by a powerful mage.” Felen’s words silenced the room. “Their bodies were dismembered. I suspect it was a summoning.”

Jerric saw Darnand staring down at his plate.

“Who?” gasped Gulitte. “Was it murder?”

No one loves a sordid tale more than a mage, thought Jerric. Here come the theatrics. “I’m sure he, or she, had a good reason,” he said.

He found that all eyes were on him, except Darnand’s. Gulitte’s voice swelled with anticipation. “Do you know who did it?”

Dammit, thought Jerric. “I’m just saying, maybe they were working with the Anvil Guard. Or something.” He tried to hide his discomfort by using his napkin, but he hadn’t picked one up. “I mean, they’re probably not a murderer, no matter what people are saying.” He stared at Gulitte, hoping to shut him up.

“Was it you?” Gulitte asked. The air in the room seemed to disappear as folk sucked in their breath.

“I wish. I can’t summon anything that could do that.” Jerric’s sustained glare was making his eyes burn.

Gulitte’s eyebrows had shot up his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak again.

“It was I,” Darnand said quietly. “Please pass the salt.”

Abiene walked over during the babble that followed. She placed her plate and mug on the table between Thaurron and Darnand. “Good morning,” she said in a clear voice that carried over the talk. She rested her hand on Darnand’s shoulder and lifted her skirt to step over the bench. Jerric looked, hoping to catch a glimpse of thigh. Then he quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t been caught.

Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much.

Jerric cleared his throat, trying to think of something to change the subject. Abiene’s plate held only a pumpkin muffin, but he knew that was not a suitable topic of conversation. He watched her break off a piece and raise it to her mouth, lipping the crumbs from her fingertips.

“What brings you to us so early this morning, Jerric?” asked Thaurron. “Will you join us at the chapel?”

Thank you, little mer, thought Jerric. “Uh, no. The gods will find me if they want something.” Carahil gave him a sharp look for that piece of impiety. “I need to spend some time with my horse. And do some training. Then I have to pick up some things in Westgate.”

Abiene’s tone was casual. “Training at the Fighters Guild?”

“No, here. Do you have some time for me?”

She sipped her kahve and appeared to be thinking. “I will be busy at the healing hall after chapel, and then I have some errands that will take me to Westgate. Shall I find you there this afternoon?” Her eyes smiled at him over the rim of her mug.

Jerric felt heat rising in his face. He became acutely aware that Gulitte was still looking at him. “Uh, yeah. That would be great. It’s, uh, going to be a nice day.” He took a gulp of kahve. “For being outside.”

“I’ll look for you at five of the afternoon watch, under the evergreen oak in Westgate. Will that give you enough time?”

“Yeah. That sounds like a great plan, Abiene. Thank you.” He guessed that if she meant something else entirely, she would have the sense to tell him in private.

“What happened?” Gulitte asked Darnand eagerly. Darnand’s knuckles were still white on his kahve mug. Jerric considered kicking Gulitte, but he couldn’t get an angle.

“They died. This subject is closed.” Darnand looked over at Jerric. “I am at your disposal, if you wish to conclude our business today.”

Jerric nodded. “After chapel?”

“Right away, if you like. My presence today would not please Dibella.”

After breakfast Jerric followed Darnand out the front door. Abiene caught his hand in the doorway, whispering that she would be at his hut by three bells. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze of acknowledgement as he left.

Darnand was quiet on their walk to the castle. He had been a shield for Jerric on the day he returned to Anvil, and Jerric wished he had been able to think more quickly at the breakfast table. Then he realized that Darnand had handled the situation on his own. He tried to find the words that would express his regret without sounding as if he doubted Darnand’s competence. He also wanted to give him an opportunity to talk without needling him with questions. Arvena’s lessons hadn’t taken him this far. He decided to speak from his heart.

“About last night. I put you in a bad situation without a backup plan. You did well, but I failed.”

Darnand kept his face forward and continued walking. “When we speak of high-risk work, we are accepting the potential for such occurrences. Someone had to be first. I would not have chosen to kill those women, but I did not choose to die instead.” His voice had the resolute tone of a practiced speech. Then Darnand looked over at Jerric. His eyes betrayed his vulnerability. “I was surprised at how quickly their malice fled. One moment they would have murdered me, and the next I had blood on my hands.”

Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post. “Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a few moments before Darnand spoke again. “Perhaps in our future endeavors, I might take a more active role in determining our course of action.”

“Yeah,” Jerric agreed fervently. “About that. There’s a Nord up in Whitmond, name of Maeva. The Buxom. She needs help, something about her husband ran off on her. Maybe you could come with me when I talk to her.”

“I think that would be well advised.”

Gogan and Maelona had their report ready for Darnand’s and Jerric’s signatures. The Guardsmen emphasized the need to keep their identities secret. Jerric supposed it was too late to keep Darnand’s name out of it. The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime.

He watched Darnand exchange his signature for a pouch of gold in the Steward’s office. Then he handed some of it back to be kept in his account. The county taxed such savings, but it was far less than the thieves’ tax. Jerric wondered if the gold in the Kvatch vaults had been recovered. Surely the records would have burned.

Walking back across the castle bridge, Darnand handed the rest of the gold to Jerric. “Your half,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jerric objected.

“You got us the job, and you provided support. I refuse to quibble over such matters. In the course of our partnership I expect that our roles will vary. Over time, there will be a balance. Do you agree?”

“Yeah.” Jerric weighed the pouch in his hand, smiling. He had enough to make several merchants very happy.

Jerric left Darnand at the guild hall and walked out the Main Gate. He found Flash in the large pasture behind Horse Whisperer Stables, grazing with a group of horses. He leaned on the fence and watched for a few moments. The red-headed stable hand joined him at the rail.

“You’re Flash’s friend,” the Nord told Jerric, smiling broadly. “I remember.”

“That’s right, Kado.” Jerric smiled back at him. “How’s he doing?”

“Good, good.” Kado nodded firmly to emphasize his words. “He’s doing good.”

“Do you think he’ll come over when I whistle?”

Kado’s face lit up with anticipation. “You taking him out today?”

“Yeah. Will you help me get him ready?”

“I’ll help you! You watch, I’ll do everything right!” Kado’s grin was infectious. It’s good to see a man who loves his work, thought Jerric.

Jerric’s whistle brought Flash over to them, though Jerric suspected the carrots in his hand had something to do with it. The three of them walked toward the stable, crunching their carrots.

“I have some business with Clesa first,” Jerric said. “I’ll meet you.”

“Mother is in the house,” Kado told him. Jerric tried to hide his surprise.

He exchanged glares with Ernest on his way into the stable house. Jerric had nothing to say to Clesa’s husband. After he handed over some coins, Jerric eyed Clesa as she made a record of the payment. He saw no resemblance between this beautiful Redguard and the grown but child-like Nord outside.

“Your account is paid through next week,” Clesa said. She handed him his receipt.

“Thank you. I’m taking Flash out for a few hours, Kado’s with him. He’s your son?”

Clesa returned his look, unflinching. “A fever left him simple when he was just a lad. Ernest and I took him in, his mother died from the same illness. He’s good with the horses. Do you have concerns?”

“No, I just wondered. If you trust him, so do I.”

Clesa’s face softened. “I don’t often hear that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it of your husband.”

Clesa snorted. “That I do tend to hear.”

The hours passed quickly until it was time to meet Abiene at his hut. Jerric built as lively a fire as he could risk in his fireplace. Leyawiin was about as far from the Western Reach as he could imagine. Abiene had grown up in an Argonian climate. She did not relish the cold.

When Jerric heard her light step on his wooden porch, he couldn’t help grinning. Or his other reaction. Keep your trousers on, he told himself. At least until you learn the spell.

My interest has been perked by the focus on Clesa's son Kado. I've always liked Jerric's easy way with children, and to see it extends to the less fortunate as well reveals a lot about his character. Children, dogs and cats - they can usually determine someone's true nature better than adults, lol. Another wonderful addition to an AWESOME character driven story!!! Your ability to develop deep characters is amazing, a huge gift !!! Great Write !!!

I loved the uncomfortable scene at the breakfast table, between trying to keep what happened the night before secret (and protect Darnand, which turns out to be a misplaced intention) and ogling Abiene without being obvious. Darnand definitely can handle the consequences, as dreadful as they may be, because he's got a pair, all right.

I also enjoyed sharp-eyed Thaurron and suspicious Gilette. And the gossipy Felen! Not like my Felen at all! But I still enjoyed them anyway.

And the scene at the horse stables was wonderful. I'd trust a simple man with my horse before I'd trust a former knacker! Poor Clesa! At least Cato Kado is good for something!

Thanks for a great southern breakfast!

Your delicate skill with your characters continues be a joy to read.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug. '
Wow! Is this ever Carahil! Oh, and a lovely touch of humor about her polished bits!

'Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much. '
This would have been so easy to overstate. Perfect example of the delicate touch I mentioned you have. And another reason to like the endearing mer.

'Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post.'
The imagery of this brought a big chuckle!

'The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime. '
Yup. Just one friend. . . .

Gosh, Jerric, Darnanad, Thaurron, Abiene, Carahil all shine here!

The dialogue you gave Kado was perfect. I enjoyed his enthusiasm and how very Jerric to return simple kindness in kind, and even extend it to Clessa. The scene says much about Jerric - all of it good! Yum, carrots!

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 30 2011, 01:02 AM

Girl, if ever Hemingway met Kathleen Woddiwiss, you would be the product - a writing style that has both the masculine hard hitting style with the delicacy and insightfulness of the feminine touch.

mALX: Thank you so much, mALX! You picked up exactly what I was hoping to show with Kado. And now of course I have a whole bunch of Kado story buzzing in my head, argh! Jerric may never get out of Anvil.

haute ecole rider: I’m glad you enjoyed the breakfast scene. Jerric was definitely in over his head, and it was nice to let Darnand take care of business. I had to give Clesa some help, no way was I going to let Ernest get his hands on Flash! Thank you for your approval of Kado.

Acadian: The lamp post is one of my favorite Jerric and Darnand moments, I’m so glad you pointed it out! Thank you for your remarks about Kado, he had a lot to say in a few words.

D. Foxy: I am astonished and humbled. And also Thank you so much, Foxy!

Where we are: Abiene has arrived at the beach hut to teach Jerric some illusion magic.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 18

Abiene swept into the hut, pink-cheeked and breathless from the wind. Her cold nose pressed into Jerric’s open collar made him laugh. He lifted her over to stand in front of the fire.

“Business first,” she said resolutely, even though she already had her arms around him.

He decided that meant he should quit grinding against her. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready when you are.”

Abiene removed her cloak and hung it on the wooden peg by the door. “At the guild hall I would give you a potion first, so that you could feel the spell’s effects before you try to cast it. I’m sorry, I forgot to bring one. Do you know how to make a potion that will light the area around you? I don’t remember. I’m afraid I haven’t spent much time with illusion magic since University.”

“Sure. White seed pods and alkanet flowers. I’ve never used one, but I’ve made plenty. Let me check my bag.” Jerric dumped his gathering sack out onto his small table. “Look, here’s… Well, there’s a lot here. No alkanet. I know I found some dried ones, must have given them to Felen.”

Abiene looked away from the jumbled mess, smoothing her skirt. “I’ll cast the spell then, and you try to read it. Like an enchantment. If Darnand is right, you might be able to do it. Are you ready? Here it goes.”

Abiene raised her hand and whispered a word. Green light spilled out of her open palm and seeped into the space around them. Jerric stretched out his magical sense, reading the spell.

It was in his mind. The sense of wrong forced the breath out of him, and he reached out reflexively to shove Abiene. He stopped himself in time, barely. The green light winked away.

“What is it?” she gasped, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry! It’s just… The light was in my head. It’s a trick! There is no light.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Abiene’s eyes were still wide and startled. “You’ve seen a light spell before, haven’t you? You must have!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what it was doing. Are other folk all right with this?”

“Of course.” Abiene stepped toward him again. He let her take his hands. “When I’ve healed you, I’ve sent my magicka throughout all of you. It didn’t seem to upset you at all.”

“You weren’t tricking me. That light spell changed my thoughts. It made me see what isn’t there! How can you do that to someone?”

“Jerric, I…” Abiene looked embarrassed and confused. “Illusion magic is… No one means you harm with a light spell.”

Jerric squeezed her hands, still disturbed by his reaction. “I know you don’t mean me any harm. You can cast light around me any time, I trust you. I just won’t pay attention to it, or something.” He drew her closer and ran his palms up to her shoulders, trying to shake off his uneasy feeling. Somehow her hands got under his shirt.

“We should try again,” she said with determination. “You learned your first alteration spell so quickly. I know I can teach you an illusion spell.”

“All right.” He stepped back. “How about one that only I can see by. ‘Eyes at Night,’ or something.”

“That’s an apprentice spell. Light is the one everyone starts with.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “A weak charm spell isn’t too difficult. I’ll do it first, like before. Are you ready?”

Jerric nodded, and she cast the spell.

It could have been hours later, or only one. Jerric’s head pounded as if he had tried to drown himself in flin. His neck burned with tension, and his legs needed to run. Abiene looked ready to weep. He still had not learned any illusion magic.

“Once again,” Abiene said hopelessly.

“Never mind, I’ll keep using torches.” Jerric reached over and opened the door for some air, then closed it when he saw her shiver. “It’s getting late. You should stay, and I’ll cook us some dinner. I’ll go kill something. There’s always a crab nearby.” He rolled his shoulders, letting go of his tension.

Abiene took a deep breath and let it out. She looked at his hearth dubiously. “Can you even cook here? There’s no… thing you hang the pots upon.”

“It’s just like cooking on a campfire when you don’t have a crane. The hardest part is hauling the water from town. The well here is foul. Sometimes I just use seawater.”

“Eew! Fish — I’m not drinking seawater!”

“Not to drink.” Jerric laughed, his strain easing. “To boil things and wash with.”

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”

His clay mugs were less than elegant, but the vintage was good. He handed Abiene her cup and watched.

“Tamika’s 415!” She was clearly surprised. “This wine is excellent. You shouldn’t, Jerric. It must have cost you more than anything in this room.”

“Well you don’t like beer or ale, and I’m not going to give you cheap wine. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too fine for this hut. I mean, whenever I picture you in my mind, you’re always in a nice place. Like your room at the guild.”

“You picture me? When?”

“Whenever you’re not here. Last night, for example.” Jerric grabbed his crotch and grinned at her.

Abiene threw her head back, laughing. “You are so rude!”

“Just how you like me. I love to hear you laugh like that, Abiene. Why aren’t you always this way?”

The smile left her face. “People are always measuring me, checking to see if I’m doing anything wrong. Not everyone, but sometimes it’s too much. When you look at me, I know you just see who I am. I don’t have to guard myself with you, Jerric.”

“You can be yourself with anyone. Who you are is good enough. The rest of them can go hump themselves if they don’t like it.”

“I know that’s how you feel. I suppose I just can’t let go of all the expectations. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint them.”

“Disappoint who?”

“I don’t even know any more.” Abiene looked away, chewing her lip.

Jerric took her cup and set it with his on the cluttered table. “Abiene, I don’t mean to upset you. But this is pretty important, I think. Is that why you don’t want people to know about us? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Jerric, don’t.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Because I’m a Nord? It’s all right to say, I know I’ll never be smart like Darnand. I’m not angry, Abiene. I just wonder, that’s all.” He tried to turn her face toward him, but she pulled away. “Is it the drinking? I haven’t been on a real bender since I got back.”

“Please stop, Jerric.” Her face crumpled in distress.

“Look, don’t cry. Dammit, I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing I would change about you. Nothing,” she choked.

“All right. Hush, Abiene.” He reached out to draw her to him. “I won’t ask again, promise. I’m not going to start saying no to you.”

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.

Jerric caught her hands, bewildered by her outburst. Everything she had said was something that they already knew. “We’re both here now,” he said softly, trying to soothe her. “This is borrowed time, we should just enjoy it.” He doubted that reasonable talk would help the situation. Instead he held her close until the storm passed.

Eventually Abiene sniffed deeply in the folds of his shirt. Her voice sounded thick with tears and a stuffy nose. “I don’t want them to know that I lost you,” she said in a muffled tone. “When everyone looks at me, it will remind them that you left. It’s too much to bear.”

Jerric didn’t have an answer for that, but he understood it. A sudden glance of pity could feel like a punch in the throat. He still hadn’t been able to face Rhano’s parents, knowing that he stood for everyone they had lost.

He decided there was nothing to be gained from that kind of talk. Maybe he could tease a smile out of her. “Look, you’re making me upset too,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Come on, let’s get our clothes off. We can go swimming, it’s only a little dark and cold. Unless you have a better idea.” He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it.

Abiene started laughing through her tears, her hands still twisted in his shirt and shaking. Jerric thought that was a good beginning.

Later he held her in his bed, watching the fire die down. Her skin warmed the length of his side, but he could feel the cold creeping through the wall. She was so still, he thought she had fallen asleep.

“What did you mean, you’re on borrowed time?” she asked him softly.

Jerric wound his fingers in her hair and tried to look at her face, but she kept it turned toward the fire. He spoke quietly too, as if a normal voice could cause the moment to break. “I don’t belong to myself any more. What I need to do, I won’t live through. I’ve seen it in my dreams. There’s no future with me, Abiene. We should go ahead and say goodbye.”

“It’s what they say about you, isn’t it. Lionheart. You’re going to save us from the daedra when they come.” He saw the firelight gleam on her silent tears.

“Not just me, and I have to try. That’s why I’m still around, my purpose. You saw how I was when I got here. You helped me pull myself together again. I’m so sorry that it hurt you.”

Abiene turned her face toward him now, letting him see the depth of her grief. “Don’t you want to live?”

He knew what she was asking. “I can’t hope for us and still do what I need to. I guess a better man could. I’d just keep wanting to take you away somewhere and keep you safe.” He brushed his thumb under her eye, gathering her tears. “There’s a lot for you to live for, Abiene. It’s going to get darker, but there’s still a way through it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean don’t give up, no matter what. It’s not for me to explain.”

She was silent for several minutes. Jerric listened to the embers crackle and the surf outside washing up onto the shore.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you the light spell,” she finally said.

“I couldn’t learn it. There’s a difference.”

“I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“If you think of something, I know you’ll do it.” I wonder when the message will come from Martin, he thought. Each time I hold her could be the last.

Abiene lifted her head to look at him again. “What do you see in your dreams?”

“Fire. Teeth and claws. A daedroth kills me, I think. It’s always the same.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. He felt relieved that they had stopped pretending it would somehow be all right. Better to face this now together than later when she’s alone, he decided. “Don’t worry, I’ll go out fighting.”

“You must go to Leyawiin, Jerric.” Her voice held a desperate note. “You’ll need to for your recommendations anyway. Dagail is the Chapter Head there, she’s a powerful mystic. Dreams can tell you all kinds of things, it might not be what it seems.” She pushed herself up, taking his face in her hands. A burst of pain sent his breath out in a grunt.

“Abiene,” he gasped. “Your knee —”

“I’m sorry!” Her frantic scramble cost him more agony. By the end of it he lay curled around himself, groaning. She sprawled on the floor, rubbing her hip. “I’m so sorry! Let me heal you! Oh, this floor is so sandy…” Her voice trailed into giggles, unsuccessfully smothered.

The pain faded into glittering light, and he rolled onto his back. He found Abiene’s hand still on his side. She held her other hand across her mouth, tears and laughter spilling over it.

Jerric sighed and looked up at the hut’s exposed rafters. “I know this is only temporary. But we could stand a bigger bed.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 1 2011, 03:26 PM

A bigger bed never hurt anyone. I have a queen size bed, and yet somehow my three-legged cat manages to push me into one little corner of it. How a little thing like him can hog the whole thing is beyond me.

I laughed at the little interaction at the end when Abiene accidentally - uh, kneed Jerric. A little bit of comic relief to balance all the angst that went before.

Poor Jerric - he doesn't understand where the storm is coming from. Typical man - thinks just because they talked about it rationally means that she's fine with their relationship being temporary. Rationally speaking, yes, she's fine with it. But emotionally speaking - uh, no. And it's the emotional part that Jerric is missing out on.

Illusion magic can be quite hard - after all, it's altering another being's state of mind, much as restoration is altering another being's state of - well, being. I always thought it odd that the game treats illusion as being easy to master, while restoration is appropriately difficult. Weird leveling system!

I'm liking Abiene more and more. The reason? Because she loves Jerric just the way he is, and doesn't try to change him. Apparently unlike most women I know, she recognizes that not only is it a futile waste of time, but also if she were to be successful in changing him, she would lose the thing about him that she loves so much in the first place.

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”


This is confusing...

I mean, where is she going to put what? The only thing I can think of connected to seawater is seamen - and it's not possible to swallow seamen, is it?

Huh?

Why is everybody coughing and choking?

Bah! This internet thing is too newfangled for old men like me. And that's why I hate typing on these computas. Why in the old days I would write everything down with pen on paper - and since my pen is quite thick and long, I could write for a long time - and of course the sensation of my pen in my gave me much more pleasure than typing...




Let that be a lesson to you Grits - awaken not the Daedra Dhirtee Innu Endo!!!!!!!

. . . my pen in my whut?

SPEW !!! ROFL !!! Abiene really knows how to kill a mood, ROFL !!! The evening would have been spectacular if she had just allowed Jerric to lead when he was humping her leg. Between her casting (what I am assuming was "Frenzy" on Jerric), crying, then kneeing him in the groin - GAAAAAH !!! She was all out of whack this night !!!

An Awesome write, you really delve into the frailty of Abiene and the inner strength of Jerric in this - huge !!!

Once again, you display a style that can best be described as silky. I love your ability to show your characters interacting so smoothly and naturally.

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.'
Perfectly done!

This episode was an absolutely magical blend of serious and sobering thoughts with light humor.

Jerric's nightmares about fire, teeth and claws sent a familiar shiver.

I have to say, I am not 100% up to speed on Jerric's story, but I have been enjoying it so much! I think my favourite bit so far was the prostitution episode in Skingrad - especially when Jerric asks the first guard 'Hello sir, are you a chapel-goer?' before turning to his more worldly comrade and simply stating 'A brothel.' Brilliant! Jerric is very easy to sympathise with - no saint, but very human. You have a great gift for humour, and I look forward to reading more of your story. Well done!

haute ecole rider: You’re right, he thought that since they both knew it, they didn’t have to talk about it. Um, nope. Thankfully his uncertainty let him do what she needed him to do, just shut up and hold on. I should have apologized in advance to all of the fellows for the accidental knee. It sure ended that conversation. You’re completely right about Abiene, changing Jerric is not in her playbook.

Foxy: What, did you say your pen is giving you much more pleasure than your computas? Maybe there is a way to use them both!

mALX: Abiene was definitely out of sorts. She was overdue for a meltdown. Poor Jerric got the knee, but at least it wasn’t another crying jag. I can see him writing a note on his arm for next time: Hump first, then learn spell.

Acadian: I remember Buffy’s dreams of a clannfear, yikes. She overcame her fear so beautifully when she became a Daedra Slayer. Hopefully Jerric will also get to the source of his worries. The elegant solutions provided by illusion magic seem to be out of his reach. For now he’s a still single serving of Nord in a can for a daedroth. Thank you for your kind words. Once folk start laughing and crying, it’s hard to get them to stop.

Ceidwad: Thank you, Ceidwad, I’m so glad you’re reading! There are some dark times coming from where you are in the story, but it’s not all gloom.

Where we are: In Anvil, training and earning some gold. Also, we may have intermittent short breaks brought to you by RL and summer, but we hope to be able to continue posting regularly.




Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 1


Jerric and Darnand passed through the tidy farmyard, scattering chickens as they went. A gaggle of grey geese raised their heads behind them, honking their remarks into the chilly air. Jerric turned and closed the gate behind them. He raised his hand in farewell to the Nord woman standing in the open doorway of her cottage. Rhano had been right. The years had not been kind to Maeva.

The two men headed back down the dirt track away from Whitmond. All of the farmhouses in the small community had been built clustered together, with their fields and pastures spreading around them. It made for a pleasant walk through cultivated land.

“What do you think?” asked Jerric.

“I think tackling a band of marauders by ourselves sounds reckless.”

“No, about Maeva.” Jerric knew his friend wasn’t ready to decide if he would do the job. He wanted to give him a little more time to think.

“You don’t see many dark-haired Nords.”

“Darnand, are you telling me you spent that whole time looking at her hair?”

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”

“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to," Jerric remarked. "She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”

“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”

“If you put a Nord on the Gold Coast, there’s bound to be some sweating, even in Evening Star. Anyway, she’s lonely, and I think she likes us. She likes me, at least. I guess that makes her pretty enough.” Jerric realized he had just summed up his general approach with women.

“She is married," Darnand pointed out. "Remember Bjalfi the Contemptible?”

“She’s married now. I don’t think this Bjalfi is going to hand over the mace and trot along home. ‘The Contemptible’ is no joke, leaving his woman is the worst kind of betrayal. Bjalfi is a disgrace.”

Darnand halted and stared at Jerric. “You would kill a man to get under his wife’s skirt?”

“Of course not! That’s a fine thing to say to me.” Jerric unclenched his fists as they continued down the path. “I’m just saying I can see how it might work out that way.” They passed a small flock of sheep headed slowly up the hill, tended by an old man and a young dog. The shepherd gave them a gap-toothed grin as they passed.

“The reward she could give us is nothing compared to what we could loot from the gang,” Jerric continued. “I mean salvage. They might even have some enchanted gear. I can’t do it alone; it would be foolish to try. I’ll need at least one other mage with me, and it would be best if we could find some sneaky archer.” Darnand already seemed to think of them as a team, but Jerric didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Penetrating a marauders’ fortress will require a different mindset than simply reacting to an attack on one’s person.”

“Yeah.”

“Is Fort Strand not within the Legion’s jurisdiction?”

“No, it’s County Anvil’s problem. The Legion won’t do anything without the right parchment from the castle, and no one who knows what’s going on up at the fort is alive to fill out the reports. Anvil Militia is busy patrolling for daedra and tending their winter crops, they’re not going to go looking for trouble in a ruin. And it’s way too far for the City Guard. It’s actually a pretty good spot to hole up, if you’re outside the law.” Dammit, Jerric thought. That was probably a little too much truth.

They made the turn onto the Gold Road and headed down toward the Anvil Main Gate. The sun had dropped low enough to shine in their eyes. Jerric’s thoughts turned to dinner. The Mages Guild always laid a good table. He gave himself an experimental sniff. Not good enough, he decided. Perhaps the Fighters Guild. He was in a mood for an evening of beer and storytelling. There was also The Flowing Bowl, of course. If he dined there he would only have a short stagger down the beach between his last ale and his pillow. Then Abiene quietly filled his mind. He imagined her with hunger in her eyes and the firelight golden on her skin. It was easy to stay silent and let Darnand think.

“I think we should recruit some help,” Darnand finally said. “There’s a Bosmer staying at the guild hall who is in need of coin. A hunter. She might be willing to come along.”

“A hunter in the Mages Guild?”

“I did not inquire as to what, or whom, she hunts. She is an archer and an illusionist, among other things.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Now that they had agreed to do the job, Jerric let his mind move on to other matters. He estimated the time it would take to walk the rest of the way to town, weighing it against the list of questions he had for Darnand.

Darnand spoke before he had chosen one. “I know that look. What is it that you would like to discuss?”

Jerric decided he should just stop wondering how Darnand guessed these things. “Well, I was just trying to pick a question.”

“Perhaps I can render assistance. What is the general subject?”

“Necromancy.”

“Ah. My understanding is still quite limited.” Darnand gave Jerric his thoughtful look. “Hmm… How do skeletons work, or How do you make a zombie?”

Jerric laughed out loud. He recognized his own inflection in Darnand’s phrasing. “How do skeletons work?”

“An excellent question. Please remember that my response only reflects my current understanding.”

“All right. Consider me advised.”

“The undead skeleton is a construct, made from mortal remains. During the enchantment ritual, the necromancer converts magicka into the life energy the skeleton requires to operate. He also imbues the skeleton with his own will to direct it. Part of the skeleton’s energy is used to maintain its structural integrity, while the rest allows the skeleton to carry out its function. The skeleton can be recharged with magicka like a weapon. Physically damaging it causes it to use up its energy repairing itself, eventually breaking the enchantment. Of course destroying it utterly suits the same purpose, it will deplete itself in an instant trying to repair catastrophic damage.”

“Do you think you could make one?” Jerric felt his stomach twist at the thought.

“I can imagine why you might think it possible.” Darnand’s expression looked more intense than usual. “That path has opened to me, but I will not take it. You must understand that even this knowledge could make me suspect, in the Guild’s current political climate. I would not have you admit what I have told you and by extension implicate yourself.”

Implicate myself in what, Jerric wondered. He decided to stick to the subject of skeletons. “That explains a lot. How they can lurch about for a century, then fall to pieces when you smack them with a hammer. And why they’re still hanging around places, even after their masters are gone.” Jerric glanced over at Darnand. His moment of concern seemed to have passed.

“We discussed trapping soul energy before. Do you suppose it is possible to trap a skeleton’s soul energy?”

Jerric thought for a moment. “Yeah, because it’s magicka from a necromancer being used instead of life energy. Wait, no, because it’s an animated construct that needs to be recharged.” He felt an unfamiliar sensation. It was his brow furrowing.

“An animated construct that can…” Darnand encouraged him.

“Cut your head off? No, wait! Repair itself! Like Abiene’s new restoration! So yes, you can trap the soul energy of a skeleton.” He looked over triumphantly.

Darnand gave him a small smile. “Indeed. Although I confess I have never done so.”

Jerric slowed his steps to buy more time. “What about the skeleton’s spirit?” he asked. “What does that do?”

“The mortal’s spirit would be gone long before the necromancer began to work with the remains. A zombie is a similar process, with a fresher body. The nature of the remains helps determine its use for the necromancer. And of course the enchantments used in their creation differ. I expect that something in the difference allows skeletons to wield weapons, while zombies rely upon unarmed attacks.”

Jerric looked down the road at the Main Gate. If he wanted more, he would have to be quick. “So the spirit could become a ghost?”

“The ethereal undead are spirits, the physical, constructs. That is of course an oversimplification. Some spirits are cursed by others to stay with their physical remains, or wherever the necromancer places them. Other spirits linger in this realm on their own. There is far more that I do not yet understand. Perhaps for now you have more questions regarding skeletons.”

“Yeah. My skeleton, Slim. When I summon him, I’m bringing the real him here from wherever he is, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the first time I used the spell to find him and make the connection, that time was different.”

“Yes. I expect you used a ritual to identify him. You will remember it was much more difficult.”

“Yeah.”

“It is of great interest to me that you found it so. For most, the difficulty of bringing the summons pales in comparison to their first struggle to control it.”

“Uh...”

“An academic side note. Please, continue.”

“So some day in some ruin, I could fight the real Slim.”

“It is unlikely, but possible.”

“Why doesn’t…” Jerric stopped to think about it first. “The energy he uses while he’s with me comes from me, from my magicka. Then he goes back to his original condition.” Jerric got the sick feeling back in his stomach. “Summoning is… Well, we couldn’t do that kind without necromancers.”

“Indeed. That is why summoning is considered a dark art. Why some stand against it.”

“Like Carahil.”

“Daedric summoning is considered no better by some. However, I would not wish to summon something that I held with affection to suffer and die on my behalf.”

“What about animals? Are they real bears from somewhere that spriggans summon?”

Darnand stopped in the road. “I am afraid this discussion requires far more time than the afternoon allows. I suggest we postpone it. For now, I have business with my horse.”

Jerric blinked, surprised by Darnand’s candor. Then he realized they were standing outside Horse Whisperer Stables. “You have a horse?”

Darnand raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t we ride to Whitmond?”

Astonishment flooded Darnand’s face. “You invited me to walk to Whitmond with you.”

Jerric laughed. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one. Well, at least it’s a nice day. And the climb up the hill probably did you good.”

“I am certain that it stimulated your appetite. Shall I meet you at the guild hall, or would you like me to introduce you to my horse?” Jerric could see the smile in Darnand’s eyes.

“I’ll stay with you. One more thing.” Jerric felt a little like a child with his questions, but he was too curious to give up easily.

Darnand sighed. His eyebrows appeared to be engaged in some kind of struggle.

“Slim’s axe,” Jerric said quickly. “I’ve thought about giving him a better weapon. But then he might kill someone with it wherever he is.”

“Such actions are not without consequences. Though those who would seek out a necromancer’s lair should be prepared for the possibility of meeting a skeleton that has been armed and trained by a Nord Battlemage. So some day in some ruin, you might find a necromancer thanking you for your efforts.”

Jerric felt an instant of horror, then he laughed. “Now you’re messing with me.”

“Indeed. Let us go to the horses.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 5 2011, 02:03 AM

Ai yi yi! I always thought summons were a piece of the spellcaster's magicka - an extension of their energy so to speak. But the way you describe it feels like it might be more effective. Hmmm, food for thought.

And Darnand has a horse?

My plan with Fort Strand always involved using the shadows and sneaking around, lots of camouflage and detect life spells.