Chapter Eleven

The clucking of chickens welcomed Gaeolin and Inigo to Riverwood. The wind freed some pine needles from the trees, making them skitter over the pavement. Dorthe emerged from a side street, waving at the pair of them before running to greet Gaeolin.

“Hi, Gaeolin! How was your trip?”

The elf smiled, kneeling down to be at her level. “It was quite an adventure, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to hear the story.” He looked down the street. “Is Faendal in town?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Papa and I haven’t seen him today. But you could ask Orgnar.” 

Inigo grumbled to himself. He still hadn’t forgiven the bartender for insulting his choice in beverage during their last stay. “We could also ask Lucan. Faendal visits the Trader all the time.” He adopted a sly grin. “Camilla may know.”

“You really like making fun of them, don’t you?”

“Young love enjoys a little teasing.” The Khajiit replied. Gaeolin had half a mind to point out that Faendal was older than he was, but decided against it.

“Let’s stop by the store first. I need to get rid of some of this junk..” Gaeolin nodded to the little girl. “Tell your father I said hello.” She nodded, running off to the forge to do so.

The Riverwood Trader was delightfully warm. The fire danced about in an uplifting way, welcoming the patrons with the smell of roasting rabbit. Lucan turned to them, his face turning upwards at the sight. “Ah, my two favorite adventurers! How have things been Gaeolin? Inigo?”

“Turbulent,” the elf remarked, “as usual. How is business?”

The Imperial shook his head. “Slow… But that’s to be expected so far out in the sticks. Since the attack on Helgen, I rarely see shipments from the south. When I do, they charge me outlandishly.” He waved the thought away. “But, I do have everything you would need to restock on. Are you two staying in town for a while?”

Inigo answered. “Not this time. We’re just stopping in to resupply, and get our horses back.”

“Which brings me to the reason I stopped in. Have you seen Faendal today?” Gaeolin eyed the golden claw that sat in front of him. “We left Beast and Nephenee with him about a week ago.”

Lucan scratched his chin. “Let me think… He said something about scouting the road to the south this morning. He usually comes in around mid-afternoon. If you head to the gate, you might catch him on the way in.”

“Thanks, now…” Gaeolin swung his bag around, digging in the depths for some of his loot. “What can you give me for this?”

It was evening before Faendal arrived. He waved weakly as they greeted him.

“Divines smile on you, friends.” He leaned against a boulder to relax. “Did you make it to Ivarstead alright?”

“The trip was less eventful than the time in the village…” Inigo huffed.

“Everything went well.” Gaeolin countered, rolling his eyes at his companion’s theatrical response. “We’re headed to Markarth next, but thought we would relieve you of our steeds.”

At this, Faendal seemed conflicted. “Well… That’s actually a matter which we should talk about.” Inigo’s ears rose in alarm.

“What happened? Is Beast okay?” He nearly ran off to find her without waiting for the answer.

“Nothing! She’s fine, Inigo. It’s Nephenee.”

Gaeolin shared his friend’s anxious expression. “Well, what’s wrong with her?”

Faendal grinned. “Truthfully, she’s fine. She’s the healthiest mother to be I’ve seen in a long time.”

Gaeolin blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“She’s pregnant. I’m not sure when she… got around. But it’s pretty obvious. I’d say she’s about four weeks along.” 

Inigo looked at Gaeolin’s face, covering his mouth to hide the smirk that set in. Gaeolin sighed. “I was really hoping to be able to ride to Markarth…”

Inigo looked horrified. “But what about the baby?”

Gaeolin shot him a reproaching glare. “I said I was ‘hoping’ to… I obviously won’t take her in this condition. Is she in your pasture?” He received a nod. “I’ll go see her before we go. Can I possibly inconvenience you to take care of her through this?”

Faendal reassured him. “Of course. Besides, it’s nice to have her around. Such a sweetheart, she is. See you later.” He left them, shaking his head as he made for the Trader.

The pair walked down the main road, turning off to go behind the store. Faendal’s house sat recessed against what little bit of wall Riverwood possessed. At least on one side… On the other, the ground sloped up, turning into the foothills of the mountains. Faendal had built up a small pasture and garden. There was no gate to the fence, which held the two horses. Beast, who had been uprooting some of her host’s leeks, knickered excitedly at her master. Inigo quickly rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her neck with glee. Gaeolin walked past the scene, more interested in his own horse. 

Nephenee turned her head away from him at first, as if knowing he wasn’t pleased already.

“So… Care to explain?” He crossed his arms, waiting. The horse let out a bellow of air. “Who was he? That shady carriage driver’s horse? When did you even find time for this?” Nephenee whined, pawing the turf. “Look… I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed, okay?” A low neigh followed this.

“She has a point you know…” Inigo chimed in.

“You stay out of this… And Mr. Dragonfly too!” 

“Okay, okay… I’ll be at Alvor’s if you need me. I need my sword sharpened. My weystone isn’t getting the edge right.”

“I’ll be there in a second.” Gaeolin took his horse by the bridle. “I love you… You know that right?” A gust of warm breath ruffled his hair, giving him cause to smile. “You’re a good girl. Behave for Faendal, alright?” With a parting pat to her shoulder, the bosmer left her to graze. 

When they approached the forge, Alvor was busy raking his knife across an elk hide. He nodded to them. “Hello there! What can I do for you men today?”

Inigo produced his sword. “Could you please remake the edge for me? It’s been a while since I’ve had it to a smith.”

Alvor took it, eyes gleaming. “Aye, now there’s a beautiful sword! Like a sliver of midnight… I can work this over for you in a flash.” He sat at the grindstone, turning it with his foot as he continued. “Anything you need, Gaeolin? I think I have some good arrows if you’re running low.”

“I’ll just take some shafts and heads, if it’s all the same. I prefer to fletch my own.”

The smith nodded approvingly. “Sure, I’ll get them for you after this.”

Blade sharp, and a knapsack of materials later, they walked out of the gate to the west. A carriage sat there, the driver waving to them. “Hail, masters. Need a ride? I can take you to any of the hold capitals.” 

Inigo looked to his friend. “It would be faster.” Gaeolin agreed, nodding to the driver.

“Where would you like to go?”

Gaeolin swung his bag into the cart. “Markarth please…”

He nodded. “Every been to Markarth? Some say it was built by the Dwarves. I don’t believe a word of it, though.” The pair listened as the wagon started to move. Gaeolin turned back, waving to Dorthe and Frodnar as they saw them off. Ahead lay the road, taking them to uncertainty.