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]

As so many have discovered before me, while there may be truth in wine, the greatest truth of excessive drink is that it makes one exceedingly ill. Worse for me, the alcohol-induced sleep was not dreamless, as I had hoped. The nightmares were vivid and horrible, and my impairment prevented me from wakening and thus finding relief. I will say no more of my adventure with brandy except that it did finally end and that I cannot stand the taste of that particular spirit even now.

Ra’Tesh, who either knew a great deal about hangovers or else had sadistic streak and a willingness to experiment, recommended immersion in cold water followed by immersion in steaming hot. Surprisingly it worked, and I emerged feeling somewhat human and as if I might be willing to think about food in a month or so. As I drank copious amounts of fresh water, Ra’Tesh mentioned that some people had asked after me while I was “indisposed.” A feeling of dread compounded with the last traces of my binge as I envisioned what would have happened if the Dark Brotherhood had found me while I was weakened and impaired. Seeing the look on my face, Ra’Tesh waved a paw and said,

“No, no! Not bad peoples! Nice lady and a gentleman merchant. They asked that you come see them when you feel better.”

That reminded me- I wondered how Therdon had made out with Bols Indalen. At last ready to face the day, I left the inn and went to the Craftsman’s Hall. The sound of hammers pounding on metal set up an echo in my head, but that was the price for my foolishness, so I persevered. The master smith caught sight of me and rushed forward, a smile lighting his normally dour features.

“Thank you so much for sending Therdon my way. He’s a tremendous help around the place, even if I can’t ever get him to shut up about the blasted pillows! He’s working right now, if you wanted to see him. I’m sure he would like to thank you himself.”

Following the master smith’s advice, I found Therdon happily pounding a sheet of steel into a shield. He ceased his labors (much to the relief of my throbbing skull) and reached out to vigorously shake my hand. Then he enthused,

“Hey there, Trey! I got the job! Thanks so much for recommending this to me. It's hard work, but I imagine that every breastplate or shield I turn out is just a thin, hard pillow made of metal, and I get through the day just fine. Here, I don't have much money, but I can offer you some tools that might come in handy. Also talk to my boss, Bols. He's pretty happy at having a new apprentice, and will give you some good deals.”

With that, he gifted me with a number of armorer’s hammers, knowing that I preferred to repair my own gear. I thanked him for the gift and made my way to the Great Bazaar and Sunel Hlas. Even though Ra’Tesh had said the merchant was seeking me, he hadn’t said what demeanor he presented. Thus, I entered the shop with some trepidation.


The change in Sunel was remarkable. Before, he had been stooped and weary, seeming to carry the weight of all the Mundus upon his shoulders. Too, his expression had been sour, as if he scented something unpleasant. Now, he stood straight, and his eyes bore a mixture of surprise and delight.

“Trey, I don't know what to say. Marena is just what I needed in my life, but without your help, I'd have been too blind to see it. Thank you so much. I... I know it's wrong to offer you something, as if in payment, but I want you to take this. It's sort of valuable, I guess, except that no one has ever wanted it, and, well, just take it and think of me. Or something. I don't know. I'm not very good at this sentimental stuff.”

As he spoke, he lifted a cloth-wrapped bundle to the counter and presented it to me. Even through the muffling covering, I could sense a strong and rather odd magical aura. Clearly, the item was a magical sword with some rare enchantment. Not wishing to appear too mercenary, I mumbled my thanks and put the weapon away without examining it.

As I turned to go, he added,

“It's high time that I get on with the rest of my life, and Marena is the perfect woman to do that with. Actually, she’s upstairs and I’m sure she would like to see you if you have a moment.”

He turned away and began polishing the counter, humming a jaunty tune to himself. Although Sunel certainly believed that things had gone well, I did want to hear from Marena, for it was on her behalf that I had first undertaken this task.

One look at the smiling figure who greeted me was all I needed to know that I had chosen well. Not satisfied with a simple hand-clasp, Marena impulsively hugged me and then stepped back, blushing and glowing at the same time.

“Oh, Trey, how can I ever thank you for helping me find Sunel? He's such a sweet man. At first, his attitude was a little off-putting. I felt badly about his wife... and a little awkward too. But as we talked, I really got to know him, and he's just so kind. He's had some bad experiences, but I know we can work through them. I just can't thank you enough, Trey!”

She embraced me again and then went off to find Sunel. As I left the shop, they were chasing each other around the counter, laughing like two children. Suddenly, I felt much better than I had in many days. Marena and Sunel proved that there was joy in life; Therdon showed that there was also satisfaction in doing a job cheerfully and well. Perhaps someday, I would be able to find that same joy and satisfaction for myself.

Some may wonder why I had not put myself forward as a contender for Marena Gilnith’s affections. My reasons were manifold- some reasonable, some less so. First, at that time, I believed that my life expectancy could be measured in days rather than years. Thus, I refused to trap any woman into a relationship that might end suddenly and violently. More, I knew the capacity of my enemies for savagery and had no desire to provide so convenient a hostage. It was not that I did not dream of romance, sometime in the future- if I had a future. When I dreamed, I thought I saw a girl from my own home of High Rock. I could not see her face, but I knew that her hair was the red of a mountainside on a late afternoon in the month of Hearthfire and her eyes the green of one of the high lakes.

Still, even as I took joy in the knowledge of a match well-made and in my secret dreams for my own future, the cold breath of fear blew upon my neck. I had only to look at my armor, taken from the body of an assassin who had sought my life, and I knew that I could not rest, could not forget. My enemies were many and merciless- they would come upon me when I was injured or asleep and snuff me like a candle. The only way to prevent that was to seek them out where they hid and destroy them. And if I could discover the name of the client, so much the better. The Dark Brotherhood did not operate from such complex motives as passion or revenge- they killed for money and someone had paid them for my death. If I survived, that individual would pay me in a different coin- blood for blood, pain for pain. I had never set out to be a killer, and the role did not sit well on my shoulders. Necessity and the machinations of the Emperor and the Temple and my unknown enemy had forced me to become a hunter, with blood on my hands. They had made me as I was and I swore by the bones in the earth that they would regret their thoughtless act of creation.