A Question of Fate Options

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Brief Intro By The Author

A Question of Fate would be the title of my piece.

I have been back and forth about trying to start and post a fan fic piece. The idea has always intrigued me, but I never considered myself to be a writer, let alone a good writer. I have read a sampling of some of the works that are posted on this site, and quite frankly, it is intimidating. The material is amazing. I must say say that despite the intimidation, it is also inspiring. So I am willing to throw caution to the wind and go for it. There are a few provisos. I work for a living. Often times, the hours I work are long. There may be periods of dormancy in this thread. I will apologize in advance for that. Life outside the internet does have it's restrictions. Also, I am sure that there is an unspoken etiquette that states, "You read mine and comment, and I shall do the same". This is also where I could run into trouble, for the same reasons that there may be dormant periods in this thread. There are stories on this site that I could never hope to read all the way through, with triple digit page counts, while I try to keep posting my own story and work through everyday life. So, with all that being said, I will wait to start posting chapters until I get a sense of what the audience demands. Please let me know if I should start posting a fan fic piece, based on what you have just read.

Thanks.

EDIT - This was originally posted in "General Discussion"

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: May 4 2013, 04:41 AM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Well, it only took 8 chapters, but the calendar finally clicked over to the next day. I am truly pleased that you all are enjoying the level of detail. I was a little concerned that it might be dragging the story out too much (8 chapters to tell of events that all happened the same day), so if it does get too boggy, let me know.

@ Everyone - A very gracious thanks for all of your very kind comments. They mean a lot an inspire me to keep going.

@ Grits - Val definitely wrestles with his temper, regardless of where it came from (I'm glad you are content to wait and see).

Oh no! Val has a Nord’s thirst and a Bosmer’s capacity. -- Great observation! You nailed it.

@ Acadian - The pleasure is all mine to provide the nostalgic joy you referred to. The stories are really fun to read.

I do not venture north of Cyrodiil, so what I see and learn of the northern province comes from fics/screens and vids right here at chorrol. -- This touches on why I write in so much detail. I shouldn't assume that all of the readers have played the game, although I do know that many have. This also gives me the idea of adding screenies, like SubRosa does in her story. Perhaps I will in upcoming chapters.

@ mALX - I am so glad that you got a kick out of Val's disappointment that water would be served with dinner. I wanted to balance the dark segment that was coming with some humor.

@ SubRosa - My wife does not play the game (probably because it isn't a Facebook App ). So I showed her the Jarl in game, then showed her the Jarl Ballin' video. She was rolling! Thanks again for sharing that.

And there is another tell-tale sign of a temper in Val. Booze and a temper, always a good combination. I bet that is going to get him into trouble in the future. -- Probably a good bet...

@ McBadgere - Welcome back! Glad to see you got a break from silage harvesting to have some quiet time reading.

All caught up again...Sorry about that...Miss me? and Apologies for getting so far behind... -- Never have to apologize for RL events. Trust me, I know how it is to have a heavy work schedule. Of course we all missed you m8.

***

Once again, thanks for following Valrimor. Now here is some weekend reading for you all. I hope you enjoy...

Previously - After a nice hot meal and what turned out to be too much mead, Val faced the following day with a hangover and scowls from Hod, whom he had offended the previous night. He was about to cure his hangover and make some plans at The Sleeping Giant Inn…

Chapter 9 – The Plans of a Sleeping Giant

18th Last Seed, 4E201 - Continued

The main hall of the inn was dominated by a huge fire pit running down the center of the room. Tables and benches were lined against the walls, which were decorated with various animal pelts. The floor also had pelts serving as throw rugs here and there. Candles, set deep in hollowed cattle horns, were in sconces on every pillar, and also in chandeliers high among the rafters. Each table also had its own candle in a horn. All in all, it made for a cozy atmosphere. A bard at one end of the room was lightly tapping out a beat on a tight skinned drum. The serving bar was at the other end. A man, presumably the barkeep, was cleaning the bar top and a woman had just entered the hall from another doorway that may have led to the kitchen. As I approached the bar, the woman seemed to be demanding the barkeep’s attention.

“Orgnar, are you listening to me?” she asked.

“Hard not to,” the barkeep, who I now knew to be Orgnar, replied.

“The ale is going bad. We need a new batch,” the woman proclaimed.

Ale is going bad? How does someone let that happen?

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Sure did. Ale’s goin’ bad,” Orgnar said as he continued to wipe down the bar.

“I guess you don’t have potatoes in your ears after all. Just make sure you get another batch in soon,” the woman demanded. With that she turned and walked away. I pulled up a stool and sat at the bar, and then asked Orgnar how much a cup of herbal tea cost.

“Thirty-one Septims,” he replied.

Half of my gold. I am poorer than I realized.

My head made the decision without me and ordered one. While he was away, I tried to concentrate. It was no use until this headache was gone. Orgnar returned with my tea and I laid the coins on the bar. Thirty-one Septims paid for a large flagon of the tea.

“Drink it all down, if you want that muzziness to go away fast,” he advised. He seemed to be a less than happy fellow, which was just as well, for I was not in a chatting mood. I rose and took my beverage to one of the tables. The tea did indeed have an amazing effect. By the time it was gone, I felt as though my late breakfast might stay put, and my headache had eased considerably. The bard had switched from his drum to a fife, but I was too deep in thought by then to appreciate his talent.

Ok, first things first. As usual, I have to fix whatever happened last night. Ugh! Then, before I do any favors for sisters, I need some coin. Let’s try not to resort to thievery. Remember the jail in Kvatch? Let’s get it honestly for a change. Ralof’s revolution has to wait too. Get the whole story first. That means lose the Stormcloak garb. I have the wolf pelts and there is a smith in town. I could get some decent leathers.

Suddenly, the bard began singing a song that interrupted my thinking and froze my breath. I had never heard the words until now, but the tune could not have been more familiar if I had composed it myself.

We drink to our youth, to days come and gone.
For the age of aggression, is just about done.

My mother used to hum that tune to me as a child. As the lyrics went on, I thought that maybe I was mistaken. Surely this revolution hadn’t been going on for fifty years. She never sang the song, but the tune was unmistakable. A dark depression began to wrap its black arms around my heart. I shook my head to fend it off.

Stop thinking about it. The song will be finished soon. There is too much ale and mead here for you to start thinking about your mother. Focus. Let’s review. Fix mess. Get coin. Lose Stormcloak label. See the blacksmith. Not necessarily in that order. That’s the plan.

I stood and returned Orgnar’s flagon to him, thanked him, and left the inn. I planned my speech during the walk back to Gerdur’s house.

Oh how I hate this…

By the time I got to the door, I had it well rehearsed and knew exactly what I would say to them. I walked in the door and they were at the dining table.

“Ok. Hod, Ralof, have a seat,” I said. They looked up at me from their chairs, puzzled.

“Good,” I continued, “listen, here’s the deal. I drink. I like to drink. It is my…never mind…I like to drink and that’s that. When I do, I don’t always behave as I should, or would normally if I were sober. Am I making sense? Anyway, I am going to stay at the inn so I don’t cause you any more trouble. It’s better that way.”

The two looked at each other, then Hod said, “No hard feelings Valrimor, but perhaps you are right. For aiding Ralof, Gerdur has made it clear that you are welcome to anything within reason. What you did last night was not within reason, especially after I had shown you my hospitality and shared my mead.”

Ouch. It’s always like this. I made the bed, so I have to sleep in it. This would be easier if I could remember what I did.

“I know, Hod. I am truly sorry,” I said, and then I turned to Ralof, “About your rebellion, perhaps I will go to Windhelm one day. But it won’t be today, or tomorrow. This armor belonged to your former comrade,” I gestured to what I was wearing, “I will leave it with you if you wish. Otherwise, I am going to sell it and purchase something that doesn’t label me with either side.”

“Gunjar would want its owner to use it as he or she saw fit. It is yours to sell if you chose to do so. Hopefully I will see you in Windhelm. The rebellion could use a man like you, if you can stay clear headed enough,” Ralof said with conviction.

“Ok, there is one last thing I need. If I don’t get to tell her myself, please thank Gerdur for me and tell her I will make it to the Jarl as soon as I am able,” I told them, and then I saluted Ralof in the manner I had seen his nephew use, and left the house.

There. As apologies go, that was pretty mild. Remember the house mother at that brothel in Leyawiin?

My next destination was the blacksmith. I could hear the clanking of hammer on steel, so I walked to the forge at the side of the building. A very muscular Nord was there, pounding the sparks out of a rod of red hot iron. He introduced himself as Alvor, and bragged that he could make a war hammer that would crack a giant’s skull like a walnut. I had spent many a day working for blacksmiths all over Cyrodiil, so I knew my way around a forge. Of course, that day’s wages often went to a night of merry-making. Then I would be too worn out and muzzy the next day and would get sacked by the smith.

I asked Alvor if he had any work that needed to be done around the shop. He needed some daggers and helmets made and said I could keep one of each as payment. I told him I would prefer coins over goods. He was fine with that, so I spent the rest of that afternoon working at the anvil, grindstone, and fitting bench. When I had finished the work he needed, Alvor allowed me to use the forge and bench for personal use. He traded tanned leather for my wolf pelts and some gold. I made myself a good set of leathers and was finished about an hour after sunset.

Since much of our business was based on trade and barter, I didn’t leave Alvor’s shop with much more coin than I had arrived with. I went back to the inn hoping that I had enough for a room. Orgnar instructed me to see Delphine, the woman that was brow-beating him during my first visit. She was at an alchemy table mixing up powdered ingredients for some type of potion. I apologized for interrupting and inquired about a room. She said a room would cost ten gold pieces for a day and a night. I paid her and she showed me to my room. It didn’t leave me any drinking money, but that was probably a good thing because I was exhausted. I hadn’t put in an afternoon at a smith’s shop in a long time. Muscles that I forgot I had were reminding me of their presence. I undressed and cleaned up at the wash basin. Looking at my bed, I realized that this wasn’t much of a room for the price.

You’ve slept in much worse many times.

I retired for the night with my plans rolling over in my thoughts, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

EDIT: Nit picked.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jun 8 2013, 11:10 PM