Old Habits Die Hard Part Five, New habits? Or just old ones recycled? Options

[haute ecole rider]

It's now time to start a new thread for Julian of Anvil. Now that she returns to her hometown, it's rather appropriate to start a new thread to celebrate!

Thanks to all who have read and posted input on Julian's story.

For those coming in late, if you've got the time, here are links to the previous threads:

Chapters One through Seven
Chapters Eight through Thirteen
Chapters Fourteen through Eighteen
Chapters Nineteen through Twenty-two

I hope you continue to enjoy this story as Julian works toward the inevitable conclusion!

[haute ecole rider]

@mALX: Time for that cold shower again! And yes, those Anvilians who knew Julian back then have following her progress.

@SubRosa: Nope, Everready’s that one. I agree, it’s high time Julian got the recognition she so richly deserves. And yes, you hit the nail on the head regarding Julian’s and Morvayn’s relationship. It will be clarified in Chapter 23.13. Yes, this is another long chapter like the Bravil ones. Sixteen segments plus a little extra treat.

@TK: Morvayn’s not that accomplished a cook, If his wife had been alive, we would have seen the full seven-course meal. And it’s actually Sicilian cuisine. To most people it would be the same thing, but not to us Italians/Sicilians! As for the romance, it won’t happen in Anvil, unless you count the one that happened thirty years ago . . .

@Acadian: I’m glad you enjoyed spotting our Anvilian innkeepers in the crowd. And oh yes, Morvayn is very, very special indeed, as are a couple of mages.

@Olen: You will see how that recommendation quest is handled in Chapter 23.8. I’m glad you enjoyed the meal! But I think the company’s better.

@Captain Hammer: You’ll see as this chapter unfolds the depth of Julian’s relationships with Morvayn, Carahil, and a couple others not yet mentioned.

Now we enjoy dinner and company, and catch up on the years that have passed since Julian left Anvil to join the Legion.

*********************
Chapter 23.3 Catching Up

“Do you want wine?” Morvayn held up the flagon. Taking the seat he had indicated, I shook my head.

“I’m an addict, Morvayn,” I answered. “I don’t touch the stuff anymore.”

“Lemonade, then?” The Dunmer was unfazed. I nodded, and he headed to the kitchen alcove. “I haven’t been able to make it quite the way Athesi used to make it,” he spoke over his shoulder while he poured into a tall glazed clay tumbler. I watched him slice a blood orange and perch it on the rim. “Here you go, Julian.”

“How long has Enilroth been your apprentice?” I asked.

“He was an orphan that Athesi took in about fifteen years ago,” Morvayn sat down and poured himself some wine. “It was rough in the beginning, as he came straight up from Valenwood and had much to learn about living in the city.”

I remembered something from my first Legion posting. “What about the Green Pact?”

“He converted to the Nine when he turned eight years old,” Morvayn sipped at the wine, “and left the Green Pact behind.” He waved at the table. “He eats the same food as everyone else in Anvil.” The aged Dunmer met my gaze. “Don’t think less of him for that.”

I shook my head. “It would have been difficult for him to honor the Green Pact here in Anvil,” I answered.

“Help yourself,” Morvayn indicated the food. “Enilroth will be up shortly.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs just then, and the young Bosmer appeared, wiping the sweat from his face. “I’ve got the fire damped down for now,” he reported to Morvayn before turning to me. “I’ll get started on your armor after dinner, ma’am.” With economical movements Enilroth poured himself some lemonade before he seated himself in the third chair.

I served Morvayn first, then Enilroth, more out of habit and respect than anything else. As I filled my plate, Morvayn’s scarlet gaze flickered over my white hair. He said nothing, but waited until I sampled the pasta. “Hmm, this is good,” I smiled at him. “I take it the eggplants are still fresh this late in the year?”

“They’re from Whitmond Farm just north of the main gate,” Morvayn remarked, sampling his cooking before nodding in satisfaction. “The tomatoes too. Enilroth found the basil growing wild behind Horse Whisperer.” After another bite, he met my gaze. “But nothing is as good as the produce your mother grew in her garden.”

“Nothing is,” I agreed, “anywhere I’ve been.” The three of us focused on eating the savory meal for several moments.

“What happened?” Morvayn asked me. “Last I heard, you were posted in Skyrim with the Legio Six. Then nothing.” I noticed that Enilroth kept his eyes downcast.

“I took three centuries into a goblin stronghold,” I spoke slowly. “It was supposed to be a training run, for a couple of the other cohorts had had a run at them. But they never found the shaman, and apparently she rallied the remnants. They decimated my tironii, and took me captive.” I paused and allowed the memories to return for the first time in years. They lacked the power they once possessed to stir up the craving for drink.

Morvayn sat quietly, his gaze steady on me. Enilroth sipped at the lemonade. We ate a few more bites of the pasta dish before I resumed my narrative.

“I don’t know how long I was held prisoner and tortured,” I shook my head, taking another mouthful of the lemonade. “I had sustained injuries during the capture, injuries that left me unable to fight back. My optio, Titus Florio, led the other three centuries in, fought off the goblins, killed the shaman and found me. I was nearly dead, Florio said, but they carried me out anyway.”

“Good man,” Morvayn commented, taking a long gulp of the wine. His pained eyes avoided mine. Does he regret asking me about it already?

“One of the best,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the Legion healer that botched my injuries.” I pushed the empty plate away and fished the last bite of salad out of the bowl. “To be fair, he was a raw recruit, and not used to seeing those kinds of injuries. I’m told he vomited when he first saw my knee.”

Silently Enilroth rose and cleared away the dishes, stacking them in the bin with a soft clatter. He returned to the table with the pitcher of lemonade and refilled both our tumblers. Finally he looked at me. “Is that how your hair turned white?”

“That was from the goblins,” I answered. “Florio told me my hair was already turning white when they found me. Likely it was the multiple shock spells from the shaman.”

“How long ago was it?” Morvayn asked. I glanced up from swirling my lemonade.

“Over four years ago,” I replied. “It left me in constant pain and unable to stand for long, let alone walk.” I sipped at the sweet-tart liquid, then took the slice of blood orange and opened it to expose the flesh. “I was discharged out of the Legion and sent home.”

“You came back to Anvil?” Enilroth asked. “But I don’t remember you!”

“I didn’t stay long,” I paused to suck the pulp off the rind. “By the time the ship docked here, I was already a drunk. I tried stopping by the Chapel to pray for healing, but it didn’t work, so I left town. Drifted when I was relatively sober, which wasn’t often or very long.” I shook my head. “I don’t remember much of these last few years, and I’d rather not.”

“Understood,” Morvayn sent a glance in the Bosmer’s direction. Enilroth nodded tacit agreement. “And now you come back, fighting fit and with quite a reputation.”

“Reputation?” I repeated. “For what? Rescuing housecats?”

Both Morvayn and Enilroth chuckled. “Among other things,” Morvayn clarified. “And all of them good.” He shook his head. “Quite the far cry from the little hellion who wouldn’t leave her big brother alone.”

Again my heart twinged, but I mentally shook it off. “I always wondered if that’s why Cieran apprenticed with you, Morvayn.”

“He never said,” the Dunmer grinned sardonically at me. “But I always suspected that was why.” He turned to Enilroth. “Don’t get us wrong, youngster. Cieran loved Julian heartily. He had more patience with her than I did!”

“Yes, you used to chase me out of the smithy with your bellows,” I chuckled at the memory. “Shouting Dunmeri obscenities all the while. By the time I joined the Legion, I could outcuss my recruit pilus.” I leaned back in the chair, stretching my spine.

“How did you make a career of closing Oblivion Gates?” Enilroth wondered. “If I may ask, ma’am,” he added hastily after Morvayn sent him a scarlet glare.

“You may ask,” I smiled at him. “It started at Kvatch,” I sipped at the cool beverage. “That was the first one, and the scariest of them all, just because I had no idea what to expect.” I slapped my right knee for emphasis. “I was still limping, still in pain, but at least I was sober. Had been for several days by then. It was then I found out that old habits really die hard.”

“Felt good to hold a sword again, eh?” Morvayn commented. “Yes, I always pegged you as a blade fighter, not an archer like Cieran. You were never afraid of getting up close and personal.”

“I’m finding archery has its value,” I countered softly. “Especially now that I’m working alone more than not. And I’ve begun using spells more and more.”

“Spells?” Morvayn’s tilted brows rose. “What sort of spells?”

“Healing, convalescence, restore magicka on touch,” I paused and thought a moment. “A couple of different flare spells. Summonses - a skeleton and a flame atronach. Starlight, detect life. I just learned a shock on touch spell that really helps with those big dremora when they surprise me around a corner.”

“Really?” Morvayn’s brows rose again. “Was a time you could barely manage to heal your own scrapes!”

“When this is over,” I gestured toward the north wall of the building, indicating the defunct Oblivion Gate beyond the city walls, “I plan to enter the Arcane University and study restoration and alchemy. I’m getting too old for combat.”

“And after that?” Morvayn sipped at his wine.

“I really don’t know,” I replied. “Go where someone with my skills is most needed. Maybe Kvatch - the survivors there are determined to rebuild the city.”

“Bully for them!” Morvayn nodded emphatically. “Do they need anything?”

“Lots of things,” I replied. “Especially clothing, building materials, perishable foodstuffs.”

“Now that you’ve cleared the Gold Road of Oblivion Gates,” Morvayn remarked, “the authorities can take care of that rogue mage that’s been harassing merchants. That ought to be quick work, then we can see about sending vital supplies to Kvatch.” He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, exchanging glances with Enilroth. “How are they set for smithwork? Do you know?”

“Batul gra-Sharob survived,” I answered. “She’s really good.”

“Aye, that she is,” Morvayn agreed. “Does custom work like nobody’s business. Especially leather.”

“Those leather boots and greaves of yours,” Enilroth spoke up, “those are her work, aren’t they?”

“They were pieces I picked up elsewhere, but she customized them for me,” I nodded. “And yes, they’re wonderful. I had a cuirass to go with them, but that got shredded beyond repair in one of those Gates. Clannfear.”

“Nasty buggers, those,” Morvayn agreed. He met my gaze. “Any chance you’ll come back to Anvil to live?”

“I’m not certain,” I replied. “Has anyone moved into Mother’s old farm up on the bluff?”

“The old Gweden homestead?” Morvayn repeated. “Not that I know of. Folks don’t want to live where people died so horribly.” His gaze sharpened on me as I suppressed the tears in my throat. “You’re not thinking about -?”

I recalled the vision I had at Cloud Ruler Temple. “Yes, I am. Maybe I will speak to the Countess about it.” I shrugged. “I remember my mother was able to grow so many rare plants there. I’d like to give it a try sometime.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Feb 10 2011, 06:57 PM

[Captain Hammer]

Interesting dinner conversation. Finding out that Gweden Farm's previous owner was Julian's family may make her time in Anvil all the more interesting. Particularly when it comes to tenant clearing.

Question: Does Julian appreciate showing a little skin? Because we've already established that there at least a few men that wouldn't mind seeing that.

nit:

Morvayn’s brows rose again. “Was a time you could barely manage to heal your own scrapes!”

Looks like the forum ate up a "There" there.