Trey In Mournhold, Chapter 3 Options

[treydog]

First, I apologize for the over-long delay in getting back to this story. Job change, severe writer's block, and my usual autumn depression combined to stop my writing cold. Anyway, for those who are still interested, here is the next installment.

T.

Chapter 3

The long struggle against the goblins had left me physically and emotionally spent. So great was my weariness that I would not even think of the purpose that had originally brought me to Mournhold. The Dark Brotherhood were agents of death, mercenaries who killed without honor or remorse, concerned only that they receive their blood money. And, just at the moment, that description hit too close to home for my comfort. Like the goblins, the assassins likely made their lair in the ruins of Old Mournhold, and I could not bear the thought of returning to those spirit-thronged tunnels. Although I was a thief, by definition a creature of darkness, the dark of a moonless night was far different from the unrelieved blackness beneath the city. At least when I crouched upon a rooftop, the air was wholesome- filled with the scents of cooking fires and stable yards- the odors of life in all its glory and simplicity. Under the city, every breath was labored, the air tainted with a miasma of deaths old and new, and thick with the plotting of deaths still to come. What I needed desperately was the light of day and the rumble of humanity going about the business of living. I wanted to wander through the Great Bazaar, acting as if I had nothing in mind beyond seeking a bargain on some exotic piece of art or craft from a far place, a place that had never heard of goblins or assassins.

Before making my way to the marketplace, I washed away the worst stains of my labors at the fountain in the Brindisi Dorom. As I did so, I was not certain that the High Ordinators would not object to my ablutions. In truth, I rather hoped they would make an issue of it- I held no very great love for Almalexia’s version of the Temple at that moment. Other than a few penetrating glances, my impromptu bath drew no reaction though, and I was soon refreshed and on my way. Although the idea of a real bath with hot water and soap tempted me to take a room at the Winged Guar, I was not ready to confine myself indoors just yet. Satisfied that my appearance would no longer cause some concerned citizen to call the guards or the healers, I proceeded to the Great Bazaar, where I frankly acted like a country lout loose in the big city for the first time. There was talk of a play to be performed, and I waited for a few minutes in hopes of seeing such a novelty, but there seemed to be some delay, so I moved on. As I climbed the steps, staring at the shops and plants and people, I became so distracted that I failed to notice a young Dunmer woman until I placed my foot directly in the midst her lunch, which she had set out upon one of the steps. She accepted my profuse apologies with more weariness than grace, and began to gather up the remains of her ruined meal. When I offered to at least pay her the price of a decent dinner at the inn, she merely sighed and said,

“That would be nice, but I really have no time to talk. There’s much work to do… No time for silly fancies like dancing or dinner. Oh, but what I wouldn’t give to meet someone new.”

The way she said it made clear that she was really just thinking out loud rather than trying to interest the bumbling Breton who had just clumsily trodden on her lunch. Still, it seemed that I should at least offer her a sympathetic ear if that was what she needed. She was still fairly young, older than I- perhaps in her 30s- although it is always hard to judge such things among the Elven races. Her eyes were interesting- sad, thoughtful, with a spark of intelligence lurking in their depths. Recalling my own recent travails with employment, I agreed that work could be wearing. She nodded and said,

“Yes, that's right. Believe it or not, I had no intention of working here when I came to Mournhold. It's quite a sob story; are you sure you want to hear it?”

When I signaled my assent, she continued,

“Well, it's mostly my fault, really. My name is Marena Gilnith, and I grew up in a small village in the south of Morrowind. They cared for me a great deal, and only wanted the best for me. But when they arranged my marriage to a wealthy nobleman, I couldn't take it. He was disgusting, and I wanted nothing to do with him. So I ran away, and ended up here in Mournhold. I was convinced that I'd be able to find the man of my dreams. Only, it hasn't worked out that way.”

She gave a self-deprecating shrug and continued,

“I was foolish about it, to be sure. I never considered that I'd need money to survive on my own. I was determined, though, not to go crawling back to the village and beg forgiveness from my parents and that loathsome man. I'd make it on my own, and only then would I contact my parents and let them know where I was. So I started working... and now it's all I do. I never have time to meet anyone. Let me know if you meet any nice, single men.”

It was the sort of request you hear fairly often- usually spoken in jest. But somehow I knew that she spoke from sincere hope, and a part of me responded with equal sincerity. It was as if our lives had followed similar paths, paths that could lead to loneliness and bitterness- if no kind stranger intervened. And so I said,

“Give me a little time, and I will try. Whatever chances, I will meet you here at this same hour in two days’ time.”

Perhaps it would have been wiser to refuse her request or to pretend that it was simply a joke, but it was hard to ignore the unspoken appeal in her eyes. Maybe I felt the need to do something that celebrated life instead of death. Or maybe I responded to the fact that she had confided in me, a stranger. In any event, though I had no idea of how to accomplish the task, I agreed. In truth, I wasn’t certain that I knew what a “good man” was; I definitely knew nothing about finding one. But as I considered more deeply, I realized that much of what I knew about choosing horses could apply to men. You wanted a good temperament, determination that did not shade into stubbornness, intelligence, loyalty… maybe I could manage this after all. Of course, that assumed that I could find any men who sought marriage- I did not really think Marena was interested in the other sort. That made things a bit more difficult- somehow, I doubted that even fabled Mournhold had a shop or market for marriageable men.

[treydog]

Determined to make an honest effort searching for a suitable man for Marena Gilnith, I wandered through the Bazaar, looking at the people with a calculating eye. Some men were with their wives; others had the sheepish, slightly harried look that is the sure mark of a married man. Still others were too young, too old, too unattractive, or simply too busy. One fellow who hailed me seemed like he might be a possibility, though his manner gave me pause. As I climbed the Bazaar steps, a flashily-dressed Dunmer reached out to clasp hands with me and exclaimed,

“Well met friend! You’re not a familiar face…new to Mournhold are you? I don’t suppose you arrived with any female friends? I get on quite well with the ladies, you know. The name’s Fons Beren.”

Although I wasn’t sure of the wisdom in doing so, I gave him my name and allowed that I had, in fact, traveled to Mournhold alone.

Beren gave a toothy grin and said,

“That’s too bad! I hate to travel alone, myself. Ah, women. Can't get enough of them. But then, who can? Ha ha! Erm... you wouldn't happen to know any eligible ladies, would you Trey? I'm looking for a saucy wench that can satisfy me. A tall order, to be sure, but you never know. So, familiar with any?”

I thought about Marena. And then I looked at Fons Beren. The first word that came to mind was “slick.” Everything about him was oily. He even appeared to have guar-grease in his hair. This was definitely NOT the sort of man she wanted- or needed. She would not thank me for an introduction to a fellow that was all flash and no stay. Therefore, I pulled a long face and said,

“No, I really haven’t had a chance to meet any women in town.”

He gave me a look that was more insult than commiseration and said,

“Well, in your case I can see how it might be a problem. Good hunting, though, old sport.”

As the Bazaar didn’t seem to be the place to find a reliable fellow, I decided that the Temple courtyard might prove more fruitful.

The Temple district suffered from the same lack of eligible men as the Bazaar, but I finally saw a rather youngish Dunmer who appeared mesmerized by his surroundings, but was willing to talk. When I approached him he said,

“Hi there. Wow! Can you believe this place! It’s just…amazing! Everything’s so beautiful! The buildings, the shops, the women…I’m stunned. Oh, my name’s Goval Ralen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He grasped my hand in one of his, and I felt calluses that spoke of hard work. He continued to speak enthusiastically,

“I mean, I've seen pretty women before, but I just can't get over it. I came from a small town to ‘seek my fortune,’ as my father would say, but it's hard to get anything done here. It's all just so overwhelming. And, I guess, a little intimidating, too. I mean, what would any of these women want with me? It's hard to hope that I might meet the woman of my dreams...”

Now here was a possibility. Goval certainly seemed to fit the definition of “nice man” that I carried around in my head. He was a worker, seemed sincere and honest, and even admitted that he was seeking a permanent arrangement. Still, I wanted to look around a bit more before making a final decision. So far, I had found only two prospects, and only one of those had any real potential. Also, I wanted to check out some of the shops back in the Great Bazaar. After that, I could find Marena and let her know how I had fared.

The magic and weapon shops did not strike me as being likely to have anything of interest- at least that I could afford- so I made my way to the general trader’s. The advantage of a general trader is that he sees a bit of everything, and rarely turns anything down. Sometimes, extremely rare items can turn up in dusty little shops. The trader in this case was a solid, rather sour Dunmer, with eyes that looked on the world with cynicism tinged by ancient grief. His greeting confirmed my suspicion that he did not view anything with very great pleasure or favor.

“I suppose you’ve come to trade, and that’s fine with me. Azura knows there’s little else in the world worth doing. None of the rest of it matters…adventuring, fame, women. It’s all pointless. So say I, Sunel Hlas.”

Something about his use of the name of the goddess of dawn and dusk caught my interest- enough that I said,

“Surely the love and companionship of a good woman is of some value?”

He barked a sharp laugh and responded,

“Hrmph. Women. Not worth the effort, if you ask me. Not anymore, at least. There's no happiness to be found. No lasting happiness, anyway. It's all a sham. Oh, I didn't always think so. I had a wife once, and was madly in love with her. But then my foolishness took her away, and now here I am. Bitter, alone, and tired of life. I'll have little else to do with women, that's for sure.”

What moved me in that moment I cannot say- perhaps it was the perversity of my nature, my inability to let a challenge pass unanswered, or perhaps Azura herself responded to the invocation of her name. However it came to pass, I found myself praising the virtues of Marena Gilnith and urging the gruff merchant to take a chance. At last, as much to shut me up as anything else, he threw up his hands in surrender and growled,
“Who? Marena Gilnith? I don't know her. Don't particularly care to either. But fine. If it will get you to leave me alone, then I'll meet her. It'll be a waste of time, though.”

Without quite knowing how, I found myself outside the shop, head awhirl with what I had just done. I could still get out of it- I could tell Marena that I hadn’t met anyone appropriate or I could offer her an introduction to Goval Ralen, instead. But… in my mind, I saw two pairs of eyes- Marena’s, shadowed with work and care, but still willing to hope. Sunel Hlas’- filled with the pain of loss, and the fear of still more pain to come. Goval seemed like a nice enough fellow, but he was even greener than I had been when I traveled to Cyrodiil. I had my doubts as to how long he would be able to last in the city. My heart told me that Marena needed an older man, a steady fellow who was already established. As clearly as I had ever known anything, I knew that the two of them should meet. Impatiently, I loitered about the Bazaar, waiting for the appointed time to arrive. At last, the hour struck and, with a confident stride, I made my way to my rendezvous with Marena. When I saw her on the steps, her expression betrayed uncertainty over our agreement. She put on a brave face, but said,

“Well, Trey, here I am. I apologize for foolishly causing you to waste your time in such a silly pursuit. Although I thank you, I am sure you met with no success.”

When she paused for breath, I bowed low and said,

“On the contrary, I believe that I have met a gentleman who will meet your expectations- an established merchant by the name of Sunel Hlas.”

Her look of resignation was replaced by one of intrigue as she considered my words.

“Sunel Hlas, you say? Hmm... I think I've heard the name before, but can't remember where. Whew. Okay, I'm really trusting your judgment, Trey. Tell him to meet me at the Winged Guar two days from now. I hope he's nice...”

I promised to pass on the news of the appointment and to ensure that Sunel would keep it, then took my leave to report back.

My certainty suffered a blow when the trader frowned at me and grumbled,

“Now what? Is this about that Marena Gilnith woman again? Can't you just leave well enough alone, Trey? Why must you continue to pester me about this? I don't know why I'm even discussing this. There's no way this is going to work out. It'll just end in heartbreak.”

Still driven by that uncanny force, I argued,

“But how do you know? Even if nothing comes of the meeting, you will have enjoyed a decent meal with pleasant company. Where is the harm?”

At last, Sunel relented and muttered, “Very well, I'll meet her.”

Talk of the Winged Guar reminded me that I had planned to take a room there, followed by a long soak in a hot tub of soapy water. Suiting deed to thought, I made my way to the inn and secured the best room available. Pausing only long enough to wave to Ra’Tesh at the bar, I was soon locked in my room and enjoying a glorious bath. Afterward, I collapsed upon the bed and did not move for a day and a half.