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> Postcards from Tamriel, Stories and such that fall somewhere between a snippet and a thread
Grits
post Oct 7 2012, 09:29 PM
Post #41


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In an attempt to organize my scribblings I have written up a few things about Jerric's Tamriel. The task of presenting them falls to Darnand. I'll update as we go through the story. As always please feel free to post anything at all in this thread. smile.gif


Darnandex


Appendix One: The People of Jerric's World

Appendix Two: Terms and Expressions

Appendix Three: A Map of Game Quests Within Jerric's Story

Appendix Four: Geography

Appendix Five: Timeline




.


This post has been edited by Grits: Dec 15 2018, 12:08 AM


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Grits
post Oct 7 2012, 09:31 PM
Post #42


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.
Appendix Two: Terms and Expressions

In Which Grits Slaughters the Languages of Tamriel


First, a note about languages: Since TEV 4 Oblivion takes place in Cyrodiil, I’ve made the assumption that everyone is speaking Cyrodilic unless otherwise remarked upon in the text. That means that everyone’s English words are meant to be Cyrodilic, just translated into English. So words and phrases (made-up and otherwise) in languages other than Cyrodilic are written in italics, since they are a different language from the rest of the text.

Where I couldn’t find clues in lore, I have completely guessed about how Tamriel’s languages are supposed to sound. If anything is an actual naughty word in some language, oops. Also, I just added things here as the characters described them, so some weirdness will occur. For example when Lildereth described Valenwood’s silverbark trees, she did not give their name in Bosmeris. So the silverbark tree appears as a Cyrodilic term, even though the trees are native to Valenwood. As always, comments and discussion are welcome. smile.gif



Bosmeris

Duwoh el E: Early spring, the second of five seasons; the time of empty bellies.

Furibari: Evil spirits.

Gin-jiru: Silverbark tree, a gigantic tree native to Valenwood. Capable of some communication with Bosmeri tree-shapers.

Mudin-ta: Insult, one who wastes things.

Nunkadai: Tribal concept, “I am because we are.”

Shen shi nui: Insult, stupid or insensitive person. Literally “an elderly sloth’s anus.”



Cyrodiilic

Diggerbee: Ground-nesting, parasitic wasp. Adult size four inches in length.

Drum-belly spider: ambush predator found in caves and ruins. Bites and spits venom. Can take an adult Bosmer, but not a Nord.

Kahve: A dark, stimulating beverage brewed from ground, roasted beans and served just under the boil. Yep, you guessed it.

Mothwood trees: understory, pink spring flowers.

Northern Sunshine: A dry, hoppy lager brewed in Bruma.

Sawnut trees: understory, white spring flowers.

Silverbark tree: A gigantic tree native to Valenwood. Capable of some communication with Bosmer tree-shapers.

Skitt: Excrement.

Terramancy: The magic of soil, rock, and mineral including its shaping on a large scale. Terramancers range from practitioners of simple miners’ magic to hermits who some say commune with the very Earth Bones.

Treerat: Arboreal, herbivorous rodent native to Cyrodiil. Picture a Kaibab squirrel with a body as long as Jerric’s forearm.



Dunmeris

Sommehlel: imbeciles.



Nordic

Akkvit: Winterhold whiskey.

Fikken Orkey: an exclamation meaning one has received unwelcome or uncomfortable attention from Old Knocker, used like “We’re screwed.”

Koocha: lady parts.

Salj: Dry, granular snow.



Yoku

Ran alai: small cake of sweetened cheese in a slimy white sauce (Jerric’s description).

Rota chatapay: crispy fried vegetable roll.





.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 13 2019, 07:51 PM


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mALX
post Oct 7 2012, 10:39 PM
Post #43


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That Shen shi nui's Koocha has Treerats!


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Grits
post Oct 7 2012, 10:48 PM
Post #44


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ROFL! Holy skitt, pass the akkvit!


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mALX
post Oct 7 2012, 11:22 PM
Post #45


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Is that Treerat Skitt on that Ran alai or are those raisens?


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Acadian
post Oct 8 2012, 01:04 AM
Post #46


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What a treat! Another guide to Jerrics world. Your surrounding context in Jerrics tale has made the meaning of many of these fun words already clear - testimony to your superb storytelling skill. goodjob.gif

Buffy's gonna have to start packing a Nord along to keep those Bosmer-eating spiders at bay! biggrin.gif

This post has been edited by Acadian: Oct 8 2012, 01:06 AM


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Grits
post Dec 4 2012, 10:20 PM
Post #47


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For Aravi, a little scene from between the worlds:

___

Darkness had fallen early as it did in Evening Star. Three friends gathered to share the warmth of each other’s company in a fire-lit study. The Breton sat bent over correspondence. The Nord paced the floor with more speed and vigor than a small chamber should allow. The Bosmer perched on the hearth, wine goblet in hand and feet drawn up out of the way. She watched her friend with some amusement. Jerric thought best with his entire body in motion.

“You’re wearing out the carpet,” Lildereth observed.

“Do not attempt to ease his mind,” said Darnand. “The wind from his passing helps my ink to dry.”

Jerric stopped in his tracks. “Say, if it’s more wind you need, I could—”

“No!” cried the elf before he could rearrange his trousers. “I’ve already cracked the window. If we open it any more it might snow in here. You knew we were going to be indoors tonight! Why must you eat the food they put out in taverns? Spicy bean dip and cabbage rolls, for the love of Mara!”

“So, no lentil soup for dinner?”

Lildereth snorted. Jerric resumed his march.

“It’s nearly Saturalia,” he finally said.

Darnand did not reply. Lildereth gave him enquiring eyebrows.

The Nord sounded exasperated. “Well, is someone going to have a party? Will Aravi be able to make it? I’m not sure if I should send her gift, or wait and hope that we see her. I should have thought of this before. I know she likes to swim, and wet fur won’t keep her warm.” He tugged a fistful of hair in agitation. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well,” said Lildereth, “first you should show me what you got her.”

Jerric produced a small package.

“Oh how lovely!” Lildereth exclaimed. “You chose this yourself?”

Jerric grinned. “Yep. And I enchanted it.”

That got Darnand’s attention. “You enchanted something? Let me see. A Frost Shield charm! This is a strong enchantment. How did you...?”

Jerric flushed. “Uh...”

Darnand’s face turned white. His eyes bugged out. “You used a Sigil Stone?!”

Lildereth plucked the chain from Darnand’s hands and held it against herself. “I’m glad you got her gold instead of silver. Wait a moment, Jerric, this isn’t a necklace.”

The Nord hitched up his trousers. “Belly chain.”

Now Darnand looked flushed.

“That’s hot,” said Lildereth.

“I know. I tried to use two moons, but it looked like a pair of bosoms.”

Darnand found his voice. “Then you could have called it the Belly Chain of I Hope to See You Naked.”

Lildereth snorted. “That part goes without saying.”

Jerric coiled the chain carefully in its box. “I’ll send it to her today. Darnand, you can write the note for me. Elf, you pour us some more wine. I’ll sit down so the dog will come back in here.” Jerric plopped to the floor with a crash. “Ulfe! Come here, girl. It’s safe now.” He looked up after a few moments of lolling with the hound. “Come on you two, get busy. Who’s ready for dinner?”



For Aravi,

Belly Chain of the Icy Dip

IPB Image

From your friends, with great affection.
smile.gif


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King Coin
post Dec 4 2012, 11:39 PM
Post #48


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OMG I love it Grits! Icy Dip laugh.gif I can see Lildereth holding it and realizing it's not a necklace.

“That’s hot,” said Lildereth.
biggrin.gif

Thank you very much Grits. You know I've got my eye out on Nexus for it.


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Aravi: A Khajiit in Skyrim

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Acadian
post Dec 5 2012, 01:26 AM
Post #49


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Speaking for an elf who has been similarly gifted by Jerric with a toe ring of resist frost, I can imagine how thrilled Aravi must be! She is definitely a belly chain kitty and Jerric is so thoughtful to realize that not everyone is as frost proof as he. As brief as this written delight was, the terrific trio of friends plus super pooch each benefited from the magic quill of dear Grits to fully display their unique charms. happy.gif

What a beautiful gift, and congratulations to the lucky Aravi!


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mALX
post Dec 5 2012, 01:57 AM
Post #50


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*

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Hey, how come Buffy and Aravi both got presents for Saturalia and I got squat again? Not just the toe ring, Jerric gave Buffy some kind of Naked Juices potion too! Do I have to sing for a present around here?



*

This post has been edited by mALX: Dec 5 2012, 05:51 AM


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mALX
post Dec 5 2012, 02:07 AM
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*

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Who is this Jerric person that brought me no present on the celebration of my birth, and again now during the Saturalia? Where is my present from him? Take him to the dungeons, where he can join the others that need to reconsider their gift list for Saturalia next!



*

This post has been edited by mALX: Dec 5 2012, 02:11 AM


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mALX
post Dec 5 2012, 05:24 AM
Post #52


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*

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Jerric promised me a bottle of Shadowbanish Wine long before Saturalia last year, what's taking him so long? I made a special Oxtail stew just for him, it won't keep forever you know! I've got my eye on the sundial and my foot tapping, he'd better show by the start of this years Saturalia festivities!


This post has been edited by mALX: Dec 5 2012, 05:25 AM


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Grits
post Dec 14 2012, 07:08 PM
Post #53


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Between the worlds, Saturalia preparations continue…

___

Jerric set the pitcher down and reached back into his pocket. “Take a look at this,” he said to Lildereth.

She watched warily until he placed a velvet bag on the table. Then she opened it.

“Is this an anklet? Pretty.” She gave it a shake, and their ears were tickled by the tinkling of tiny bells. “Who is it for?”

“Maxical.” Jerric leaned back with a grin.

Lildereth looked appalled. “You’re giving her cat bells?!”

“Gods, no! At least I hope that’s not how she’ll see it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She likes Eyja’s laugh so much,” he explained. “Now she can make that sound too.”

“She might not like to make noise when she walks,” Lildereth pointed out. She jingled the bells again. A small smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

“I thought of that,” said Jerric. “You know Maxical likes a prank as much as I do, and there’s a reason they say ‘as curious as a Khajiit.’ So when folk get used to hearing bells when she walks, they won’t even think it could have been her when she doesn’t wear them.”

“An usually devious idea,” Darnand remarked.

Jerric flushed. “All right, someone else thought of that part for me. I just thought it would look nice on her little, uh, foot.”

“How will you enchant it?” Lildereth slipped the anklet back into the pouch.

“A charm to fortify her resistance to diseases.”

Darnand shot Lildereth a look. The elf snorted. “Are you planning to put the moves on her, Nord?”

“What? No! I doubt she’d be interested. I mean, I may have some skills and possibly a slight dose of the pox, but I sure don’t have any Mysteries. Besides, with the— Wait, do you think I would have a chance with her?”

Lildereth shook her head. “The pox? Don’t you know sixteen ways to cure diseases?”

Jerric winked and reached for his belt. “I need a second opinion. Say, Breton…”

“Not in one thousand eras,” Darnand said without looking up. “Get some poor healer to examine it for you.”

Lildereth filled her goblet and passed the bottle to Jerric.

He took a swig. “What are you getting her, elf?”

“Spa weekend. Abiene and I are organizing it. We hope that all of the girls will come.”

Jerric’s jaw went slack and his eyes glazed over. “You just gave me my present.”

Darnand closed his book. “I have written a spell for our Maxical,” he announced.

Jerric was still incapable of speech.

Lildereth asked with a slanted eyebrow.

Darnand reached for his goblet. “Summon Shirt,” he said.



For Dear Maxical

The Anklet of Small Bells Singing

IPB Image

With lots of love from your friends.
smile.gif blackwizardsmile.gif viking.gif smile.gif


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McBadgere
post Dec 14 2012, 07:18 PM
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QUOTE
“Spa weekend. Abiene and I are organizing it. We hope that all of the girls will come.”

Jerric’s jaw went slack and his eyes glazed over. “You just gave me my present.”

Darnand closed his book. “I have written a spell for our Maxical,” he announced.

Jerric was still incapable of speech.

Lildereth asked with a slanted eyebrow.

Darnand reached for his goblet. “Summon Shirt,” he said.



That's just funny right there that is... biggrin.gif ...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...
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mALX
post Dec 14 2012, 08:32 PM
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*

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WOO HOO! Thank you Jerric! I love the ankle bracelet's tinkling bells, now everyone will ask what that noise is and I can show off my present! And I really appreciate the spell, Darnand, that will save me a lot of embarrassment, I'm sure! Thank you Lildereth! Can't wait for the spa day with all us girls getting together, that will be the best day ever! Er, hope Janus Hassildor doesn't fly over, the sight of all us girls soaking in the hot springwater together may cause him to crash land again!



*

This post has been edited by mALX: Dec 14 2012, 09:14 PM


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King Coin
post Dec 14 2012, 08:48 PM
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QUOTE(Grits @ Dec 14 2012, 12:08 PM) *

Lildereth looked appalled. “You’re giving her cat bells?!”

rollinglaugh.gif

Well, her present seems appropriate at least. Darnand's spell sounds useful too. laugh.gif


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Aravi: A Khajiit in Skyrim

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Acadian
post Dec 15 2012, 01:19 AM
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This was a joy to read! Such wonderful interaction (as always) among your characters as they conspire by the fire to produce a trio of magnificent gifts for Maxical! Each gift was brilliantly appropriate for our delightful little white kitty.


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Grits
post Dec 29 2012, 08:26 PM
Post #58


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QUOTE(mALX @ Dec 4 2012, 08:07 PM) *

*

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Who is this Jerric person that brought me no present on the celebration of my birth, and again now during the Saturalia? Where is my present from him? Take him to the dungeons, where he can join the others that need to reconsider their gift list for Saturalia next!



*

rollinglaugh.gif So that's how it really started!!


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Grits
post Dec 29 2012, 08:27 PM
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Here’s a day in the life of Sonstra and Kjelling. (Just this one post.)




Spring of 3E403, Kvatch


Sonstra clipped a final sprig of thyme and straightened with a sigh. One hand pressed the ache in her back. Breakfast was not yet on the table and already she wanted sleep. Perhaps it was time to consult with a healer.

She stepped into her bustling kitchen, handing the basket to the cook’s apprentice. With an extended family living entirely under one roof, household help was her fondest luxury. While one meal was being served another’s preparation was already underway. And it took a team to keep up with the laundry.

Sonstra’s daughter-in-law Meja stomped heavily into the room, baby Willem on one hip and a hand under her gravid belly. Nursing while already pregnant again was taking a toll. She looked as tired as Sonstra felt.

Sonstra reached for her grandson as Meja trundled past. Little Willem squealed in delight and slapped his hands on Sonstra’s cheeks. Soon he would be toddling into every kind of mischief. Sonstra smiled and nuzzled her grandson. Every age brought its own delight, but this was one of her favorites.

An escalation in the clamor from the dining chamber told her that platters were hitting the table. “Selka!” she called into the corridor. “Breakfast! It’s getting cold! Bring your sister!” A faint shout echoed down the stairs in reply. It didn’t matter what had been said. Every morning was the same with her girls.

Thunder on the stairs announced her eldest son’s approach. Rothmund leaned down to kiss Willem’s head and Sonstra’s cheek on his way into the dining chamber. The meal passed as always in a noisy rush, with household staff, assorted Running Wolf employees, and the occasional surprise guest sitting shoulder to shoulder with the family. Sonstra spied an unfamiliar young man blushing furiously and attempting to hide behind a kahve pot. Now who does that one belong to, she wondered, glancing around the table. She gave Willem another morsel from her plate.

Her younger son Petr met her gaze with a slow smile. He knew, and he would tell her. The gleam in his eye promised quite a story, if they could both find time for him to tell it.

The diners hustled empty plates to the scullery, then scattered on their way to school, task, or office. Meja took her son from Sonstra’s arms.

“Lie down when he naps today,” Sonstra suggested. She gently removed her sleeve from Willem’s fingers. “You could use more rest. When you care for yourself, you’re caring for my grandchild.”

Meja gave her a quick nod. The girl was still not entirely comfortable in Sonstra’s presence.

“I’m going to the chapel this morning,” Sonstra told her. “You’ll have the house to yourself. Put your work aside and enjoy the quiet.”

“Yes, Mother Sonstra.” Meja waddled away, humming to the baby.

Sonstra ground her teeth. This needless formality was Rothmund’s doing. Her eldest seemed to have sat upon a stick at an early age and never gotten around to removing it.

But it was true that she was partly responsible for Meja’s unease. The young woman’s blatant fertility was a grain of sand in Sonstra’s eye. The last time of her moons had come and gone with no sign of Mara’s flower blooming. Sonstra had to admit that her cycles had ended. Though she and Kjelling had not planned for more of their own children, having the choice removed was the first taste of her age’s bitter medicine.

The gods gave us two boys and two girls, she chided herself. You should be grateful. No more envious glances at the poor girl’s belly.

The morning’s tasks were accomplished with brisk efficiency despite an occasional light-headed feeling. Sonstra dressed for a day out in the city. She always spoke to Mother Kyne under the sky, but she went to the Chapel of Akatosh to make the rest of her devotions.

A damp wind blew warm over the walls and through the city. The sun made a jewel out of every new leaf and budding flower. Kvatch stood formidable on her tower of stone, but within was a garden in the sky. Sonstra walked under trees alive with songbirds’ raucous wooing and tried to forget the stillness within her own body.

Two men were stepping out of the chapel as she approached. They exchanged polite nods, and one of them held the door for her. The chapel seemed as dark as a cave after the bright morning. Candle smoke, incense, and the smell of old books and musty offerings tickled her nose.

A Nord boy stood just inside bathed in the flood of light from the door. He turned his head and grinned as if he knew her. Then the door closed, leaving Sonstra blinking in the dim interior. By the time her eyes adjusted, the boy was gone.

She shook herself. There were many things said of old women who imagined things. Few of them were good.

Sonstra began her progress around the chapel’s shrines. Peace filled her as it always did when she made room for it. She spoke her devotions in the Imperials' words, but all the while her heart sang to the gods of her childhood.

Afterward she reluctantly made her way to the chapel's Halls of Healing. She and Kjelling had left their families behind in Skyrim. They had faced every challenge of partnership and parenthood side by side through the years without the guidance of elders. The best they could manage was to make different mistakes with each child, but somehow they were all still together. Her Kjelling would be no help with this change of life, however. And as far as she could tell, Imperial women got their herbs and advice from healers.

In the healing hall Sonstra followed a white-robed attendant to a curtained alcove. The young Redguard walked with the grace of a swordswoman. She had gentle eyes, Sonstra noticed, and the dark, elegant brows that were the envy of every blonde.

“I am Oleta,” said the girl. She swept the curtain closed and gestured to a chair. “What brings you here today, mistress?”

Sonstra blinked at her. This child must be the healer, she realized. Great.

“It’s nothing, really,” she started. Then she gave herself a mental shake. Don’t be silly, and do not offer insult by underestimating her experience.

Oleta smiled. “I have only recently taken my vows, but I am fully qualified.” She sat down and gestured to the other chair again. “I’m from Anvil. I lived there all my life.”

“I’m Sonstra.” She took the seat. “Business takes me to Anvil often. Did you train at the Mages Guild or at the chapel?”

“Both.”

The women spent a few moments talking of small matters. Oleta quickly put Sonstra at ease.

“I’ve come about my moons,” Sonstra finally admitted. “My cycles have ended. That’s not the problem, though. I’m just so tired all of the time now, and my back is achy. I’ll admit that I’ve put on a little weight. I don’t mean to complain, but… Well, are there herbs I’m supposed to be taking?” She felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t know why I even bothered you with this. I’m sure it’s all just what happens at my age.”

Oleta took Sonstra’s wrist in her cool hand. “May I ask how many winters you have?”

“Five and forty. My moons flower should have bloomed weeks ago, but there was nothing.”

Oleta nodded. “With your permission, I would like to first examine you with a spell. Then I’m sure I will have some questions.” She took Sonstra’s hands. “Do you have children?”

“Four children, one grandson, and another grandchild on the way.” Sonstra tried to feel the spell, but she couldn’t tell if anything was happening.

“How many pregnancies?”

“Just the four, and all were healthy. Lady Mara has truly blessed me.”

Oleta let go and leaned back in her chair with a smile. “Our Lady has blessed you again, Mistress Sonstra. Congratulations. You are with child.”

Sonstra could not have related what happened next for all the trees in Valenwood. She found herself standing out by the fountain, hands pressed to her waist.

Another child. Tears filled her eyes. I would never have asked for this, she thought, and now I know just how much I wanted it.

A moment later she remembered that her Kjelling did not enjoy surprises. Of course he wouldn’t even think of asking her to end the pregnancy. The only question was how much he would growl before he smiled.

A solid meal would help. There was no time to go home. Sonstra headed for her favorite grocer.

An hour later she was spreading a feast on Kjelling’s desk at the Running Wolf office. Cold meats, boiled eggs, crusty bread, dried fruits, and small wheels of cheese she could cut with her pocket knife. Kjelling opened a jar of the ale he kept chilled in an enchanted drawer. They ate their meal in comfortable silence.

Sonstra found that she was famished. She finished first as always. Kjelling reached for another loaf as she leaned back and wiped her fingers.

“I would like you to build a high chair for the family table, husband. We will need another before Meja’s baby is through with Willem’s.”

Kjelling spoke around his bread. “Two more grandchildren? If Petr’s been careless, let him build it.”

Sonstra smiled to herself. “It is indeed a proper task for the expectant father. You should also build another cradle.”

Kjelling grunted a reply, eyes on his meal. Then he froze with a turkey leg in the air and his mouth hanging open.

A junior clerk dashed in, trailing parchment and apologies. He fled as soon as he had exchanged one pile of invoices for another.

“At your age?” Her husband had found his tongue, but as usual his wits were a few steps behind. “I thought you were taking moons potions!”

Sonstra twisted her napkin, fighting the familiar urge to strangle her love with it. “Every child is a miracle, but perhaps this one especially so.”

He completely missed her tone. “There is a fair bit of silver in that golden head,” he objected, nodding at her as if to make clear that it was not some other fading blonde he spoke of.

“It is my turn to choose a name,” Sonstra declared, changing the subject.

Kjelling crossed his arms over his chest.

“I would honor your brother,” she said. “You know it is right, Kjelling.”

They hadn’t spoken of him in decades. In a flash Kjelling’s face showed the weight he still carried. Guilt and honor. Love and sacrifice.

Her husband made a broad, cutting gesture. “Out of the question. That name would bring my family down on our heads.”

“Are County Kvatch’s birth announcements read so far away as Skyrim? Don’t you think by now your mother will have passed beyond caring?”

Kjelling’s beard bristled in the way that told her he thought his mind was made up. “After what has been lost so that we might simply live, how could we take the chance? Though my heart grieves for Jyrik, I would not risk it.”

“Change it, then, in a way that we will still know. Make it look like a Cyrodiil name.” Sonstra placed her palms over her belly.

Kjelling scowled down at his plate, hands gripping the table’s edge. “Change it as we did with Rothmund’s? No one was fooled.”

“The honored dead can see us from Sovngarde, Kjelling. For years he has watched over us. I would have him know our hearts. Let him hear us speak his name with love every day that we have left in this life.”

“You may well carry another girl.” Kjelling stood abruptly and stalked to the window.

In her mind Sonstra saw the towheaded lad from the chapel, facing away but turning his head to look back at her. Light streamed over him like the hand of a god. He stood slim and strong and gangly as a pup, with golden eyes like Kjelling’s and a smile like the sun.

She carried a boy child. Her heart knew it was true.

Sonstra walked over and leaned into Kjelling, resting her face against his chest. Their arms slipped around each other in the way that made her feel whole. Their joy had always come with trouble. Sometimes they ran and sometimes they faced it, but always together.

Peace filled her heart. As in all things, this man would give her anything.

“Jerric,” she said, and a squeeze told her that he agreed. “If we have a boy, we’ll call him Jerric.”




.





.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 23 2019, 03:26 AM


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Acadian
post Dec 29 2012, 09:19 PM
Post #60


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From: Las Vegas



What a beautiful and oh so relevant short story!

I detect a certain first-hand familiarity with the hustle and bustle of a busy breakfast table.

‘This needless formality was Rothmund’s doing. Her eldest seemed to have sat upon a stick at an early age and never gotten around to removing it.’ laugh.gif

There was so much to love in this story. First, was letting us gradually figure out for ourselves who this story was about - via the bread crumbs buried within those quarter million words of Jerric’s story. Then to see, through Sonstra’s eyes, Kvatch in her pre-crisis glory. And a young priestess named Oleta, just starting out in her healing career!

Sonstra captured our hearts in the first short paragraph. Then, despite introducing many characters in a limited number of words, you did each one of them justice - yet so delicately that we barely noticed as Sonstra flowed through her morning.

Sonstra and Kjelling perfectly conveyed the loving comfort that only years of experience together can bring.

Yes, his name shall be Jerric!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 23 2019, 03:26 AM


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