Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Grits]

Hi folks. This is my first attempt at fiction, and I welcome any criticism from the smallest nit to the most sweeping remarks on writing in general.

My version of Tamriel is a little bigger than the game’s, but I’m trying to fill in some of the blanks rather than re-imagine the place. I have taken liberties with the order of some events, but the main quest will stand. Mostly.

I feel especially weak in the lore and action sequence departments. If you should suggest a resource, I will certainly seek it out in the hope that my next effort will be less cringe-worthy!

So welcome to Jerric’s story, and thank you for joining us.

(Edit: Darnand started as Arnand, so comments may reference his old name.)

July 24, 2014: Hi again. Having learned much in the last couple of years I’m revisiting early chapters and giving them a very light edit. Regrettably there may be some inconsistencies in style as I work my way through. Sorry about that, and thank you very much for reading!

Jerric

The whole story is contained in this thread, but here are some links to the beginning of each chapter within this thread.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Working Vacation
Chapter 2 On the Gold Road
Chapter 3 Welcome to the Imperial City
Chapter 4 All’s Well in Aleswell
Chapter 5 Unloading the Amulet
Chapter 6 Going Home
Chapter 7 Kvatch
Chapter 8 Running
Chapter 9 Anvil
Chapter 10 Septims
Chapter 11 Holidays
Chapter 12 Return to Kvatch
Interlude:Abiene’s Letters
Chapter 13 Skingrad
Chapter 14 The Imperial City
Chapter 15 Chorrol
Interlude: Abiene
Chapter 16 Valley of Hopes
Chapter 17 Bruma


The Darnandex

Appendix One: The People of Jerric’s World
Appendix Two: Jerric’s World Terms
Appendix Three: Map of Game Quests Within Jerric’s Story
Appendix Four: Geography
Appendix Five: Timeline

Chapter 1: Working Vacation

Darnand Penoit had hoped to spend the afternoon studying with the delicious Abiene, but instead he was in the hills above Anvil searching for goldenrod plants with this hulking nitwit. They were working their way through the meadow side by side so as not to miss any. Darnand straightened to ease the kink in his back. He shot a glance at his partner.

Jerric stood thigh deep in the golden grass, eyes closed and face raised to the sun. He had pulled off his shirt and tucked it into the back of his breeches where it hung down like a ridiculous tail. His head looked like a shock of wheat.

Idiot, Darnand thought. Every night he has to heal his own sunburn. Jerric held a wicked looking blade in one hand and a white seed pod in the other.

“I feel just like a loaf of bread,” Jerric said to the sky.

“Felen is waiting for these pods,” Darnand snapped. What is this lump doing in the Mages Guild, anyway? he wondered. He did not grow those arms by turning pages.

Jerric laughed. “No he’s not. He’ll have his nose in a book by now and he won’t look up until long after dark.” The Nord tucked the pod into his bag and looked down for another goldenrod plant.

“You missed one,” Darnand said. He pointed to the plant at Jerric’s feet. “If you are not going to work, why did you bother to walk this far?”

“Because this is my assignment.” Jerric nudged the plant with his boot. “I never take all of the seed pods from any plant. Where do you think the plants come from? If you take all of the pods, no more goldenrod.”

Darnand could identify most of the alchemical plants in Cyrodiil from his books, but he had given little thought to how they grow.

Jerric stepped forward and stooped, cutting pods from another plant.

“What kind of mage would bring a dagger,” said Darnand. He snapped a pod from its dry stem to make his point.

“It’s a knife.” Jerric tossed it into the air and caught the blade between his thumb and finger. “My hand just likes to hold it. Try it,” he offered, extending the hilt toward Darnand.

“A real mage is his own weapon,” Darnand sniffed.

The two worked in silence for some time. Darnand was beginning to feel unpleasantly warm under his robe, and Jerric was positively streaming. The man’s sweat smelled unpleasantly familiar.

Sharing the Mages Guild common quarters with Jerric was a trial. He was noisy, his gigantic boots were always in the way, and he treated every day like Jester’s Day. Just last night while Darnand lay in bed reading Jerric had jumped under the blanket with him. He had let loose some wind then held Darnand’s head beneath the covers. The visiting mages had laughed like a pack of teenagers. One of them had wet herself.

Worst of all, Abiene seemed to like him.

“Feh, you smell like an animal,” Darnand muttered.

Jerric straightened and turned toward Darnand, a grin on his lips. Then he froze, eyes widening. “Boar,” he said.

“Oh really,” Darnand snapped, “Well I think you are the bore, Nord!”

Darnand faced his opponent, ready to deliver his come-uppance. Jerric whipped a ball of frost at him, faster than Darnand could think. It landed behind him with a hollow boom and an enraged squeal.

Comprehension dawned. Boar! Darnand sprinted toward Jerric, readying his fire spell. He whirled some distance behind the Nord in time to see the boar charge.

Jerric switched the knife to his right hand and hit the boar with frost from his left. When he lunged to the side the boar almost missed him with its yellow tusks. Jerric tackled the boar just as Darnand let go with his fire.

The Nord, the boar, and the ball of fire disappeared into the tall grass. Dust, squeals, and a death scream rose from the thrashing mayhem. A moment later all was still.

Darnand stood in horror at what he had done. By the Nine, I have killed him! I shall certainly be expelled from the Guild.

Jerric popped up from the grass, streaked with blood and crowing in triumph. He wiped his blade on his breeches.

Darnand searched him for signs of immolation. He appeared whole, apart from a steady stream pumping out of a wound in his thigh. “Erm ...” Darnand said, pointing.

Jerric held his skin together through the tear in his breeches and sent healing light swirling down his body. He looked at Darnand, grinning. “Did you hit me with a flare, soldier?”

“Please do not tell Carahil,” Darnand blurted. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “Why did the spell not burn you?”

“I can thank the stars for that.”

Atronach, thought Darnand. That explains a lot.

“New plan, Breton! Grab my bag, will you? I don’t want to get blood on Felen’s flowers.” Jerric lifted the boar carcass to his shoulders with a grunt, hardly staggering. “Good thing this was a small one.”

Jerric started down the hill toward Anvil. Against his better judgment, Darnand picked up the bag and followed.

___

“But how did you know she would have seed pods to sell us?” Darnand asked. His companion had sold the boar to a butcher, then bought enough white seed pods from a woman on the street to finish filling both their bags. Jerric had taken the first offer from both merchants, like some rube. Now they were entrenched at The Flowing Bowl with just enough coin to get them into trouble.

“She sells anything she can get for free,” Jerric said. “This time of year she has to have white seed pods, and cheap.”

“But she is a beggar. She does not have anything.”

“She has what she needs,” Jerric pointed out. “Don’t you think that if she was really planning to buy shoes, she would have them by now?”

“How do you know these things?” Darnand demanded. “You do not even reside in Anvil.”

“How do you not know them? Don’t you ever talk to people?”

Darnand took sip of beer and winced at the bitter taste. He was not sure how he ended up on the waterfront in the middle of the afternoon drinking with the person he liked least in all of the Mages Guild. The person he had almost incinerated only a few hours ago. He was beginning to worry about payback for that incident.

“Are you sure you are not angry about the ...” Darnand could not bring himself to say it.

“No harm done,” said Jerric. “I’m just glad you didn’t set the grass on fire. Besides, you would have healed me, right? Abiene said you’ve nearly reached Journeyman in Restoration.”

Darnand inhaled some spit. “Abiene talks about me?” he choked.

“Yeah,” Jerric replied with a twist of his lips. “She says, ‘Oh that Darnand, how does he get his hair that way, it looks sooooo pretty.’”

Darnand gritted his teeth and stared into his beer.

Jerric thumped his arm.

“Easy with the ham fist, I am not a snow bear,” Darnand complained.

“I’m a Nord, Darnand. Get over it. Anyway I’m not even that big. You should see my Pa, he has a neck like a minotaur.”

Darnand looked at Jerric for a long moment. “Did you have a point?”

“Look over there.” Jerric gestured at a slim, dark, Imperial woman. “What do you think of her?”

“She has a face like a weasel. I think you have a good chance with her.”

“No, for you! She’s been looking over here a lot.”

Darnand was amazed. “Are you procuring women for me, now?”

Jerric shrugged. “You seem tense.”

The door opened and closed with inn traffic.

“Drink up,” Jerric said. “The sun’s going down. We have to hurry and get loaded so we can sober up before dinner.”

___

Darnand carefully ran his knife up the center of the aloe vera leaf. He opened the skin to expose its juicy pulp then slid his knife down the inside at an angle, folding the skin back as he went. After he repeated the cut on the other side, he viewed the flattened leaf with satisfaction.

A groan and thump broke his concentration. Darnand glanced across the room where Jerric sat at another work table. Bloody scraps of cloth and empty potion bottles littered the surface. The Nord’s forehead was on the table. His fingers clenched in his hair.

Darnand wiped his knife, put it down on its cloth, and picked up the wooden spatula. He slowly ran the spatula’s blade down the butterflied leaf, collecting the pulp without picking up any of the fibers that clung to the inside of the skin. He plopped his harvest into a clay storage jar, then carefully repeated the process.

“Darnand,” Jerric said.

Darnand scraped another spatula load of pulp from the leaf. He placed it in the jar.

“Darnand,” Jerric said again.

Darnand wiped the spatula and placed it on its cloth. He folded the empty leaf skin and set it aside. “I am busy.”

“It’s important.”

Darnand picked up another leaf and placed it in the ready position in front of him. He picked up the knife. “So is this.”

The knife slid down the plump leaf in a perfect line. Darnand braced himself for Jerric’s reply. Something about him squeezing his own juice, Darnand guessed.

Jerric picked up his chair and carried over to Darnand’s table. He put it down and took a seat across from Darnand. “I’m running out of time,” he said.

“I need to finish this,” replied Darnand without looking over. He makes more noise than a Billy on a wooden bridge. He scraped the leaf.

“I’ll do it for you later,” said Jerric. “I need your help.”

“You will pull up too many fibers. ‘Quick and dirty’ is not an alchemist’s motto.” He wiped his spatula and placed it on its cloth.

“Darnand,” Jerric said.

A note in his voice made Darnand look at him. Jerric’s raised face wore a solemn expression. Candlelight made his eyes look like honey. No doubt he uses that technique to lure women.

“No more tricks,” said Jerric. “I’m running out of time. I really need help.”

Darnand folded the leaf skin and placed it aside. He hooked a chair leg with his foot and sat down.

“Your healing spell?” he surmised.

“I’m just not getting it. I have the magicka but I can’t get it all into the spell. I know how it’s supposed to work. I just can’t do it.”

Darnand considered. “When you healed where the boar slashed you, you sent your spell over your whole body. Did you mean to do that?”

Jerric looked blank.

Darnand tried to explain it another way. “Do you focus your spell on a specific injury, or do you just cast the spell?”

“I just cast the spell, and then I feel better.”

“You are wasting your magicka,” Darnand said. “You will never get your spell stronger until you learn to focus. You know how to heal a wound on another person, do you not?”

“Yeah, but I’m not very good at it.”

“Think about how it feels when you cast that spell. The pain you feel from the other person that tells you where to send your magicka. It is the same thing.”

Jerric looked blank again, and miserable. His fingers twisted on the edge of the table.

Darnand was surprised. His patience with Jerric was growing, not racing away as it usually did. “Do you feel the pain from the other person, or do you just cast your spell over them?” he asked.

“I feel it, but I don’t know how to use it,” said Jerric. “Please don’t give up on me. I know I can learn this.”

Darnand decided to change his plans for the evening. “I shall render my assistance. First, show me how you heal yourself.”

Jerric picked up Darnand’s knife.

“Gaaaah!” cried Darnand, throwing out his hands. He snatched his knife back, wiped it, and placed it precisely on its cloth. “Over there,” he said, pointing at Jerric’s table. “And go get a hammer so you will bleed less. You were making a mess.”

___

Darnand entered the common living quarters and halted in surprise. A man stood at the end of the room in a steel breastplate and mail with a long sword on one hip and a short blade on the other. He was lifting a steel shield out of the open cabinet. A full pack rested at his feet. Jerric.

Darnand approached. He felt oddly distressed. “What is this?”

“My uniform,” Jerric replied with a smile. “Did you think I was a professional student? I’m a caravan guard. See?” He pointed at his chest where a shape was embossed onto the metal. “Running Wolf Postal and Freight. That’s my family’s business.” Jerric pulled on his gauntlets. “My break is over. I have to get back to work.”

“An armored guard. But what kind of a...” Darnand began. He looked at Jerric, and for the first time his own expression matched the Nord’s.

“Battlemage,” they finished with a grin.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 24 2014, 07:35 PM

[Grits]

SubRosa: At least Jerric did not wipe his rear with it!
Luckily it was not the Parchment of Kings!

I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate the time you are taking to help me. In two months I have gone from wondering if it would be fun to write something to really wanting to improve. Thank you so much!!

I had a lot of free time to write at the end of the year, but that’s over for awhile. We’re iced in again today, but the atmosphere indoors is not exactly peaceful.



Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 1

By late afternoon Jerric saw the crooked pine tree that Valus Odiil had described, so he and Flash turned down the path it marked. There was an old yellow dog sleeping in front of the first farmhouse they passed just like he had said there would be. Jerric thought that while a map and road signs were more reliable, rural directions given out loud provided far more entertainment. All that was missing from Valus’ instructions was a reference to a landmark that no longer existed, and Jerric suspected that he would have included one if Jerric had been more familiar with the area.

They walked on past abandoned farmhouses and fallow fields until they reached a tidy homestead that Jerric thought must be the Odiil farm. A thatched stone cottage, a small stone and timber barn, and a few walled pastures nestled along the shoulder of a low hill. A split rail fence defined the large field visible above the cottage and barn. “Hail the house!” Jerric called as they approached, and three Imperials popped nervously out into the yard. Jerric saw the family resemblance in their compact frames and round faces.

“Good, you made it!” called Valus, and he introduced his sons, Rallus and Antus. Both wore swords, and Antus wore a look that Jerric had seen on many faces right before he killed them. It was the look of a person who knew that they had overreached themselves. “We haven’t much time. I’ll show you where they come from.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Jerric. “First we need to get my horse to safety. I didn’t have a horse yesterday when we met, but I do now. He belongs to a friend and I don’t want to lose him on our first day.”

“The barn is secure if you bar it from the inside,” said Antus, the younger brother.

“Who’s going to stay inside?” asked Jerric. No one answered. “The house, then.”

There was a burst of objections, and Jerric raised his hand. “We need to get this done, or I move on.” He saw Rallus gather himself in the manner his father had yesterday. “Don’t try your Voice on me, Imperial, or I’ll have to use my Nord power. It’s called my foot in your balls.” Jerric thought that he sounded pretty reasonable.

“I’ll stay in the barn,” said Valus. “Let’s go, bring the horse.”

They got Flash comfortable, and Valus showed Jerric how he would bar the door. “If it gets bad, you can retreat here and I’ll let you in, or you can go in the house and lock it behind you,” Valus told them. Then they walked up to the field, and Valus gave them their plan. He spoke with calm authority, and his voice held none of the fear and shame that had colored it in Chorrol. It seemed that the goblins always came in three groups. One group tried to break into the house, one raided what they could carry out of the fields, and the third raided the barn. The Odiils had always waited out the attacks in the locked house, so they could only tell Jerric what they had seen through the cracks in its shuttered windows. They agreed on the plan, then Valus went and secured himself with Flash in the barn.

Jerric had a good feeling. The light was in their favor, there was plenty of room to move in the field, and the goblins should be coming up from lower ground. He thought that if the Odiil boys had planned to tackle the situation alone, the three of them should do all right. Of course, anything could happen. “You two will be behind me, so if you decide to retreat, you’d better yell and not leave me out here alone.” Jerric said. He looked at each of them earnestly. “Really, don’t do it.” Both brothers seemed ready to fight, and Antus looked like he expected to die. Jerric felt better knowing that neither of them planned to run. “I’ll probably summon a scamp or a skeleton, don’t attack it. Just the creatures. All right? Any last words? Ha ha. Let’s go.” He put out a fist and they bumped it with theirs, and the three of them took their positions in the field.

“We will spill their blood in the name of our father!” Rallus cried. Jerric expected he would feel the tension once he had his eyes on the enemy, but for now it was just another beautiful afternoon. He looked around at the green mountains and the open woodland falling away in front of them. A grassy hill rose up to their rear. The farm was situated on a natural terrace, and Jerric could imagine why the Odiils wanted to stay there. He didn’t think he would make a good farmer, but he was sure he could enjoy the view. He bounced from foot to foot and slapped his arm across his chest to stay focused.

His reverie was interrupted by Antus. “Here they come!” The creatures were goblins as he thought, and three of them ran through a gap in the fence carrying small axes. Jerric slashed through one’s throat, and its arrested strike bounced off of his armored thigh. He turned and thrust his sword into another’s back as it ran toward the Odiils. Rallus stabbed through the last one’s middle, and Antus got his blade wet when he finished it on the ground. Jerric thought that the boys looked suitably riled up and unlikely to run. Rallus pointed his sword and shouted, so Jerric turned to meet the next group.

Four came at them now, and one of them carried a sword and shield. Jerric slowed one down with a frost spell before he summoned a skeleton and closed with the shield bearer. He could see the next group coming up the hill, so he got busy. The goblin thrust his sword toward Jerric’s groin, and he brushed it away with his shield then chopped down through the goblin’s arm. The goblin reeled back screeching, and Jerric looked over to see his summoned skeleton drop his jaw at him over another dead goblin. “Did you see?” he heard Antus shout behind him, and he guessed that Rallus must still be alive to yell at. He shoved the goblin’s shield aside with his own and thrust his sword under it into its belly. He yanked it back out and moved to intercept the next group.

Still no archers, Jerric was pleased to see. He hated getting shot, but even worse was removing the arrow. These four were spaced far apart and coming over the fence, so he guessed that they might have seen him cut through the first group. He summoned a scamp for its ranged attack and started casting frost spells. The scamp cooperated with its fireballs, and one goblin went down smoking while another fell crusted with Jerric’s ice. Jerric and the scamp ran toward the same third goblin, and Jerric had to stand back to avoid the wild leaping and clawing that ensued. He had never seen a scamp fight a goblin before, and he thought that they could teach a lot of Arena fighters something about showmanship. The scamp raised its claws in victory as it disappeared, and Jerric heard Antus shout, “Ha ha, we beat them! Did you see how well I fought?”

Jerric glanced over to make sure that the boys were both on their feet, and then he checked himself for damage. There was a dented plate over a sore spot on his thigh, but he was pleased with his borrowed armor. Overall he felt good. He jogged back over to where the one-armed goblin lay clutching its belly and opened its throat. He rolled his shoulders and looked out at the forest wondering if there would be another group this time.

Valus joined them on the field, and Jerric guessed that since the old man was in charge he could relax. Swords were brandished excitedly as they thumped each other in relief and congratulations, so Jerric gave them some room. “Foul things!” exclaimed Valus. “They deserved the death you brought them.” Valus sounded relieved, and there was a lot in his face that he wasn’t saying. Jerric’s eyes went to Valus’ sword. He still hadn’t gotten a peek at the blade. Valus seemed to read Jerric’s thoughts. “My boys are safe! I can’t thank you enough for sticking with them and helping a foolish old man.” He unbuckled his belt and presented the sword to Jerric. “Please, take this. I won’t be needing it any longer. My battles are over. I plan to live out my days here on the farm in peace and quiet.”

Jerric glanced at the Odiil boys and didn’t see any hard feelings. He guessed they were happy enough to both still be alive. He took the sword and drew it, catching his breath at the magicka that shimmered across the blue blade. “Frost damage,” he whispered reverently, and Valus smiled.

“And weakness to frost. It’s name is Chillrend. It seems fitting that you should have it.”

Jerric nodded his appreciation and put Chillrend away. There was still work to be done, and he could play with it later. “Valus, I must ask you a favor. May I stay in your barn tonight? It will take some time to pick up your field.” Jerric also wanted to get a closer look at the goblins.

“In the house, lad, I’ll go start the meal while you boys finish up. I’ll put your horse in the pasture, I don’t think he even flinched during the fight.”

Valus handed out healing potions, then Jerric and the Odiil boys dragged the goblins down into the woods until Rallus was satisfied that they wouldn’t stink up the farm. There was some loud talk and laughing as they let go of the rest of their tension. When they made a pile against the cottage wall out of the nine axes, two short swords, and shields, Jerric thought that if the goblins had been expecting resistance it could have gone quite badly. He had examined the garments and chest adornments that they wore, but they didn’t tell him anything new.

Jerric cleaned and repaired his equipment, and then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He went behind the barn with Chillrend and spent some blissful time with his new blade. He was sure it was the most valuable thing that the Odills owned, and their willingness to give it up showed him the depth of their gratitude.

The sun was setting by the time they were ready to clean off the sweat and blood. They stood on the hill below the well scrubbing and shouting while Valus poured buckets of cold well water over them. They dried off, and Jerric went to check on Flash where Valus had turned him out to pasture. The two of them walked to the barn in the gray dusk, and Jerric took the opportunity to give Flash a summary of the action. He made his way back over to the cottage by the light from its windows.

Valus had prepared a shepherd’s pie, and the portion he placed in front of Jerric was easily twice the size of the others.’ Jerric thought that probably said a lot about how Imperials view Nords. There was also a giant platter of fresh lettuce, sliced tomatoes, carrots, and radishes. When he saw the blackberry pie Jerric thought that you could not beat Hearthfire for a time to visit a farm. It seemed that Valus did all of his drinking in Chorrol, so they quenched their thirst with clay tumblers of well water. It turned out that the Odiil boys were both older than Jerric, and he attributed their youthful appearance to clean living on the farm with no women to chase and no ale to subsequently drown their sorrows.

They tucked into their meal, and after the first hunger pangs were satisfied Jerric started to work on his curiosity. “Valus, I’m surprised you were going to let your boys tackle this fight on their own. They don’t even have any armor.”

Valus gave Jerric a level look. “I’m going to come clean with you, Jerric, and hope you keep a cool head. I would never have sent them out there on their own. I’ve trained them both, but Antus had never even seen a fight like this until today. I had to find someone like you while we still had some crops and a roof left to live under. When I saw you at The Gray Mare, I did what it took to get you out here. I hope you’ll forgive an old man.”

Jerric put his fork down and looked at Valus. He reached over and thumped his fist into the point of Rallus’ shoulder. “That was for your fa,” and he picked up his fork again. He didn’t want to go back down that path when Chillrend had already closed the gate. “I passed a few farms on the way here, why are they empty? Is it the goblins?”

“Sickness, deaths, people got old or moved on. They’re good homes and land, but I don’t have the hands to work them. It’s a quiet life out here, I guess folks want the excitement in the city. We never had goblins before this year. Now that they know we’re not worth the trouble, I hope they don’t come back.”

“I hope not, too. So if someone wanted to start a farm, they could what, buy one? Lease it?”

“They’d have to go to the Castle for that. We’re County Chorrol out here, though the Chorrol Watch won’t help us. You thinking about doing some plowing, Jerric?”

Jerric choked on his shepherd’s pie and washed it down with some water while Rallus took his revenge pounding him on the back. “No, Valus, I believe I’ll stick to what I know. Although I confess, plowing is never far from my mind.” Antus caught his eye with a silent laugh, and Jerric had to look away to keep his composure. “I traveled with some Bretons, said they were heading to Hope Valley. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Kahve farmers, I’ve heard of it. It’s a fairly new settlement up in the Highlands. Off the Orange Road. I don’t know anything about growing kahve beans, but something about the mountain air makes them better.”

Jerric nodded and tucked the information away in his memory. “What’s that plant you have in the bowl? I’ve never seen anything like that before. Is that what’s making the noise?”

“I don’t know what it is, but it looks like it might be valuable. I’ve shown it around in Chorrol, but no one seems to know anything about it.”

“Draw me a picture, and I’ll show it to a mage I know. I’ll have to send it to him, but he knows every alchemical plant there is. I’d draw it myself, but …” and he held out a hand. “Not really made for a quill.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll break off a piece and you can take it with you, leaf and root. It grows well in the pot, it just needs a lot of water. We were thinking…” Valus glanced around as if there might be a spy sitting on the mantle, “we might grow it to sell to mages.”

“I’ll send you what I find out. Odiil Farm, County Chorrol?”

“Add Troll Rock Lane, and that should do it.” He saw the question before Jerric could ask. “There’s a big rock up the lane that someone thought looks like a troll.” He snorted. “Show me a rock that doesn’t look like one.”

“Do you have any books you’d like to swap with me? I have a few I’ve finished.”

The boys looked at each other. “We’ve little use for books out here, but I know there’s one around here somewhere. Oh, here it is.” Rallus reached under a bench and removed the book that had been keeping it level. “Take it, we can use a piece of wood or something.”

The title was The Book of Daedra. “Thank you,” said Jerric. It was an effort not to open it and take a look. He decided not to ask any more questions or make any more comments, or they might end up giving him everything that they owned.

“Do you have The Lusty Argonian Maid?” asked Antus.

“I did but I traded it already.”

“Do you remember any of it?”

“Sure, I remember. Do you want me to tell you?” and Jerric told the story of Crantius Colto and his maid Lifts-Her-Tail. Then the Odiil boys repeated it, acting out the voices. Jerric thought that they were pretty entertaining, but it would have sounded better with some ale.

The time had come for Jerric to decide if he wanted to share his air with three other men or one flatulent horse. He looked around the small cottage and decided on the horse. Valus sent him off with a lantern and a spare key and told him to come in as early as he liked to start the kahve. Jerric wished them all a good night.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 11 2011, 05:23 PM