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> Trey In Mournhold, Chapter 3
treydog
post Dec 2 2005, 03:24 PM
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Master
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Joined: 13-February 05
From: The Smoky Mountains



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.



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The dreams down here aren't broken, nah, they're walkin' with a limp...

The best-dressed newt in Mournhold.
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Kiln
post Feb 26 2006, 12:25 AM
Post #41


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Joined: 22-June 05
From: Balmora, Eight Plates



Well Trey, I often ask myself as I'm reading your updates what exactly sets this story apart from most others and I never could seem to figure it out...perhaps it is the amount of content or the great detail and descriptive elements or maybe even the calm way the story flows that makes it different from other writings. After some time of wondering this I have come to the conclusion that it is all of it, every bit of your story stands out as excellent and well written to me and I can't wait for the next part.


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He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee. - Friedrich Nietzsche
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mplantinga
post Mar 2 2006, 12:26 AM
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Joined: 20-September 05
From: Bluffton, SC



I think Kiln said everything that needs to be said. As the third chapter of this adventure comes to a close, it remains as amazing as when it first began. I look forward to chapter 4 and Trey's inevitable confrontation with Helseth.
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Soulseeker3.0
post Mar 2 2006, 03:16 AM
Post #43


Master
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Joined: 18-February 05
From: From "not where you are"-ville



Wow great update and I too agree that Kiln summed everything up. Great end of the chapter Trey and please continue on.


(yay! new smily, right?evillol.sml.gif)


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This was pretty unusual, because most children at his age wanted to become great warriors, known all through time as saviors of, well, anything - Toroabok
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McBadgere
post Sep 3 2013, 06:25 AM
Post #44


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Joined: 21-October 11



Something I've been completely neglecting to mention are the two spells...Beggar's Nose and the Bound Bow one...

Fair dues...Much more "Romantic" a name than Life Detect... biggrin.gif ...I like that it can see enchanted stuff...Excellent...Is that in-game magic or an invention?...

The Bound Bow is cool, and I love that you use it to fire real arrows, rather than the Skyrim version which is more like the Ranger from the 80s Dungeons and Dragons cartoon that shot flaming constructs...

Something that always makes me laugh is how many arrows you can carry in the games...At one point, I must have had two or three thousand of various sorts on my back in Skyrim...Possibly as a laugh... biggrin.gif ...

I do know that at one point, my 9mm bullet count of FO3 was nearing 10,000...

And that's without the various other sizes I was buying... biggrin.gif ...Ahhhh, game exploits...Gotta love it...

Anyways, to this next chapter...

Loved that it was mostly side-quest territory, a nice change of pace after the darkness of the under-city...

I noticed the thing about the writer's block...It's so horrible when that happens...Though, changing job certainly does count as a valid excuse for its hitting you...I think that's why I have so much trouble over the summer...Well, that and the antihistamines... laugh.gif ...

Loved the quest with the finding a decent man...That was sweet...And we all had a good laugh at the man who was sad about the pillow factory closing..."All I ever wanted to do was make pillows" or some such... laugh.gif ...Man, this game is...Odd... laugh.gif ...

Brilliant stuff...

Oooh, and then the despatching of the Mournhold chapter of the DB...*Applauds*...Well, that's them done then...Off to see the King next is it?...

Amazing...

Loving it...

Next!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...



EDIT...What I mean about the over the summer thing, is that the farm jobs get all...Uncertain...I never know when they're coming, or what exactly I'm doing from day to day...And I hate that...Plus it's too hot...So that's why my writing goes off in the summer...

Ta...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Sep 3 2013, 06:27 AM
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