Folks, there was another delay. I thank you for your patience.
King Coin: Thank you, KC! The fireside scene showed my favorite side of Darnand. Thank you for drawing attention to it, and for appreciating him!
Acadian: I thought of you with a smile when I wrote about Lildereth’s under the radar approaches. Three stones!

That one skipped right by me. Thank you for noting Jerric’s giant step with Darnand’s quiet assistance. I appreciate your encouraging words so much.
McBadgere: I’m glad that Jerric’s awkward attempt to dispel the awkwardness rang true. That part was painful to write! The fireside scene is the one I was squeaking delightedly about when Julianos found Darnand’s book in KotNNK.

I’m still grinning like a fool over that!! Thank you, McB!
SubRosa: Jerric’s full “Imga balls” remark did not make the edit, so I’m glad it was still crude enough to express his message.

Lildereth and Darnand is a pairing that
they didn’t see coming! They’re not ready to pick out china just yet. Thank you, SubRosa!
ghastley: “Well, we
would have been back hours ago, but she’s a perfectionist.”

Poor Darnand missed out on Juliana’s tender care, but that’s probably for the best since Gweden holds bad memories for him. That little Ayleid hole in the ground with only three stones was a Grits invention. Thank you, ghastley!
Olen: Your comments are so very encouraging! The things that you are wondering about Lildereth are the same questions that the fellows have about her. Whew! One of the many things I admire about your writing is your restraint in the information that you offer about characters. Trying not to info-dump makes me wonder if I’m getting Lildereth’s character across, especially when she does things that are surprising. Thank you so much!
mALX: Yes, Fjirsten was eight when she died at Kvatch, the same age as Carmia’s daughter Lavina (the little girl from Gnoll’s Meeting Camp). Good grief you’re right, Darnand managed to hook up with one of the few people who could not compare him to Jerric! Oh, except for that time they all went swimming in Aravi’s Oblivion video thread. About that, Darnand would like to point out that the water was very cold and
he does not have frost resistance. Thank you, mALX!
Where we are: On the Black Road to Chorrol. Lildereth took off with Ulfe, saying she would find them on the road. Jerric and Darnand managed to avoid talking about Darnand and Lildereth. Darnand took on the project of writing down Jerric’s memories.
Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part TwoJerric and Darnand turned onto Troll Rock Lane at the same easy pace they had kept up since lunch. The weather had been fine and traffic light for days along the Black Road. Now they would reach the Odiils’ farm with daylight to spare. Jerric planned for them to spend the night with the Odiils, then head on to Weynon Priory in the morning. They should reach Chorrol tomorrow night. There was no need to push the horses.
“It’ll be a cold wash outdoors again, I’m afraid,” Jerric said, “but we can count on a hot meal. These Imperials will feed us like kings. Plenty of deer come to eat their crops. They have venison on the table most nights, I’d wager. No ale or wine, though. Odiil does his drinking in town. Never did ask why.”
“I will not miss setting up camp tonight,” said Darnand. “Or standing watch. I suppose we have that Oblivion Gate to thank for the empty road. However, I maintain that what ruffians remain will be all the more desperate as a result of their recent shortage.”
“Yeah. And even with the Gate closed, there could still be daedra about. The time you let down your guard is when enemies attack. We’ll sleep hard behind solid walls tonight, though we’ll be unnecessarily sober. These boys are good company, but what I wouldn’t give for a hot bath, a pitcher of mead, and a woman who can breathe under water.” Jerric slapped his thigh, earning an ear flick from Kip. “Hey! The Jewel of the Rumare! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!”
Darnand did not reply on that subject. “Though I am relieved that the Oblivion Gate closed on its own before we arrived, I am unsettled by the implications. Had we reached it only hours earlier, you would certainly have entered and been trapped in the Deadlands. To what purpose was it opened?”
“I don’t know, Darnand.”
His friend glanced over with the hint of a smile. “Of course you do not. I apologize for voicing the question yet again. I cannot purge this mystery from my mind.”
Darnand was right; Jerric had missed being stranded in the Deadlands by some unknown grace or sheer luck. Letting his thoughts drift backward would not help him. Still, his friend kept picking at the puzzle like a nearly healed knuckle scab. Jerric scratched his head to help himself think.
“Well, maybe they were moving from one place to another on this side. I went through a Gate in a high meadow west of here, when I was wandering, and there was a second Gate open in the Deadlands. I could see it as soon as I got there. No way could it have led back to County Chorrol, I would have seen it in the meadow. Maybe it didn’t even go to Cyrodiil. So if they wanted to move from, say, here to Black Marsh, a short trip through the Deadlands would be the quickest way.”
Darnand was staring at him.
Jerric felt a little embarrassed. “That’s probably not what they did. Forget I said it. Never mind.”
“On the contrary, your idea is plausible. Creating a sigil stone requires many souls and the effort of Mehrunes Dagon himself. However if my sources are correct, the Gates can be opened with a fairly simple ritual once the sigil stone is acquired.” He held up his palm in a warding gesture. “You need not admonish me. I have no desire to test that theory.”
“Yeah,” said Jerric. “And maybe they closed the Gate when their work was done. Whatever it was. To save the stone.”
Troll Rock Lane had been in very light use the last time Jerric had travelled it, but now it seemed deserted. The blanket of decaying leaves on the road muffled the horses’ footsteps. When the Odiils’ cottage came into view, Jerric signaled a halt.
“What is it?” Darnand sounded more curious than alarmed.
“I don’t know. Let’s just watch for a moment.” He pulled off a gauntlet and slipped on his life detection ring. A swirl of magicka betrayed Darnand’s hasty spell. A quiet cast required more effort, and they were in full view already. Jerric began to voice his concerns.
“No smoke from the chimney. Storm litter in the front garden. Someone should have picked up those branches.” Another swirl told Jerric that Darnand was extending the range of his spell. “I can see corn stalks in the upper field. They should have winter crops in by now. Onions. Cabbages. Maybe some leeks. Not corn.” Now he was just stalling. “The door is boarded up. They’re not here, Darnand.”
His friend gave him a look. “There are no life signs.”
Jerric nodded. “Let’s go see.”
The barn door was boarded over as well. Summer crops had rotted in the fields. After he made his investigations, Jerric joined Darnand and the horses where they waited by the well.
“I can’t tell what happened,” said Jerric. His gut felt sick with worry. “Goblins, daedra, or maybe they just moved after a break-in. You know, some fetchers out marauding.”
“If they were attacked by daedra, I would expect to see signs of a fire.”
“Yeah,” said Jerric. “You’re right. Plus they’ve been gone since not long after I was here. Never even got their harvest in. That Gate opened just a week ago.” He reached one arm under Flash’s neck and the other under Kip’s for comfort. “When I was here before, I helped them kill some goblins. If the goblins’ tribe came around looking… Well, they offered me their best sword, and I took it. Chillrend. Couldn’t even hang onto it, I told you how I lost it in the lava. Dammit!” He looked up at the sky.
“Shall I say it? I do not believe that the words will help.”
“No, but thanks. Look, we should fill up our waterskins if the well hasn’t been fouled. Camp out at the Black Road. We won’t make the priory by dark, and I’d rather not sleep here. The elf might be looking for us.”
“I have replenished our water supply. We still have travel rations. I suggest we break camp early in the morning and plan to spend additional time at the priory. Perhaps the monks will have news of the Odiils. We should take the opportunity to refresh ourselves there, so that in Chorrol we might present a less travel-worn appearance.”
Jerric smiled to himself. “Did you just call me scruffy?”
“Unkempt,” said Darnand. “Bedraggled.”
Jerric swung up into his saddle. “I’ll take the first watch.”
They made camp near the road. After they saw to the horses, Jerric set up the tent while Darnand gathered firewood. The sky looked like it would stay clear, but the Breton seemed to rest easier under shelter. It made no difference to Jerric. He slept with his head by the door so he could see the stars.
Jerric shook his head no when Darnand started to assemble his writing materials. Tonight it would be unwise to think about his family. He felt as if he was on unsteady footing, trying to avoid too many things while reaching for something he couldn’t see. This close to Chorrol even thoughts of Abiene brought tension. Darnand retrieved a book and withdrew to the tent. It was his habit to read in the dark with his nighteye spell. Only one book, thought Jerric. He must really be tired.
Jerric relieved himself into the bushes and prepared to stand his watch. The low fire should keep animals away, but it surrounded the camp with a wall of darkness. He moved into the shelter of a tree and slipped on his life detection ring.
The vibrant glows of the horses leaped into his mind, then the low shape of Darnand, already sleeping. Practice helped him dim their lights so that they wouldn’t blind him. In a few moments he could see small life forms through the misty shapes of the horses. He kept himself alert by identifying them as they moved about their foreign business. As the hours passed, he counted foxes, bats, deer, night birds, and even treerats asleep in their nests above him.
One life sign caught his immediate and full attention as it moved into the range of his life detection ring. A Bosmer or small human, making no sound over the night’s noises. It gave the signal for a peaceful approach, and Jerric returned it. He slipped off his ring and moved to meet Lildereth as she entered the camp. Her packs and bow went softly to the ground. She turned to face him.
“Where’s Ulfe?” Jerric asked.
“Rolling in a deer carcass. I’m sure we’ll smell her before we see her.” Lildereth stepped into the light.
She looked as clean and composed as she ever did, apart from the tears gathering on her lashes. Jerric’s stomach dropped. Weeping females were high on his list of things to avoid. He knew that a hard word would spark Lildereth’s temper, but if she wanted a fight she would already have provoked one. His compassion was likely to let loose the flood. She could have had her cry somewhere alone in the dark. Yet here she was.
Jerric took a deep breath.
“So a Nord and an Altmer are pissing out the back of a mead tent.”
Lildereth blinked several times, rapidly. Jerric pretended not to notice.
“The Altmer, perhaps curious about Nords, happens to see a tattoo on his…” Jerric grabbed his crotch.
“Member,” Lildereth suggested.
“Yeah. It’s a bunch of letters that spell out
Welinome. Now that’s a word that the Altmer knows very well. In fact, he has the same tattoo. Of course at that point it looks like there could be more to the Nord’s. The Altmer just has to know. ‘Good son of Skyrim,’ he says to the Nord, ‘My dear wife, light of my soul, is named Welinome. Centuries ago I showed her my devotion with this tattoo. Now I cannot help but notice her name upon
your…’”
Lildereth rolled her eyes.
“‘Member,’” Jerric continued. “‘My friend, is it possible that your wife is named Welinome, too?’
“‘No, Goldenrod,’ says the Nord. ‘Mine says
Welcome to Solstheim, now go the fetch home.’”
Lildereth snorted. “When I heard this story, the fellow was a Redguard.”
“A Redguard married to a woman named Welinome? That seems unlikely.”
Ulfe crashed in amongst them, wild and reeking from her romp with the dead deer. It took a spell from the elf and a knee from Jerric to keep her out of the fire. Darnand poked a tousled head out of the tent and blinked owlishly while they were struggling. “The girls are back,” said Jerric. “Hide.”
Once they got the hound settled, Jerric began to wonder if Lildereth would crawl in with Darnand. Then he wondered if they would be noisy, or worse, if they would try to be quiet. She didn’t make a move toward the tent. Jerric felt relieved until he realized that he was staring.
“I’ll finish your watch,” Lildereth told him. “I won’t sleep for hours anyway. I chewed too many fennel seeds trying to stay awake on the way here.”
Jerric wasted no time getting out of his clothes and into his bedroll. He looked up at her before he pulled the furs over his head. “Are you ever going to tell me?”
“Some day.” She had seated herself with her back to the fire. “Not tonight.”
“Whatever it is, maybe you don’t have to go through it alone.”
Lildereth had her face turned to the side, but he could still see her crooked smile. “I’m not,” she said.
.
This post has been edited by Grits: May 11 2012, 11:08 AM