The sound of the hoe hitting the earth pierced the woods. Gaeolin drew it through the space between his plants in the garden. A flock of sparrows chattered angrily as they tried to drive off the Hawk that flew above. He put down the tool, grateful that the Mountain was providing shade this morning. The elf watered the garden, taking off his gloves before heading inside.
The house was filled with the succulent aroma of roasting goose. He and Faendal had managed to catch a few off guard on their hunting trip last night. Inigo manned the spit, turning the birds carefully. It must have been torture to him, his eyes locked on the glistening fowl in anticipation. Faendal sprinkled seasonings on them as they rolled above the flames. “Not too fast, Inigo. We want them to cook through completely.”
“But they smell so good…” the Khajiit licked his lips. His whiskers held on to a few drops of saliva, inspiring him to use a free hand to wipe his face. Ma’isha was sitting at the table, talking to Auroth. He seemed uncomfortable, but was obviously trying to be kind to the girl.
“Here, take this piece of wood. It’s small, but enough for you to work with.” He held out a small chunk of deadwood, handing her a knife. “Be careful to cut away from yourself. Just take little bits off at a time.” He was working on his own piece, already reducing one end down to a rather small diameter.
“How do I know I am doing it right?” Ma’isha asked. She started with hesitation, only the barest flakes of wood falling to the floor.
Auroth shrugged. “Whittling isn’t really exact. You just start working without really knowing what you are going to make. At least that’s how it works for me.” He shaved the wood in long strokes. Whatever he was making seemed to taper from a large bit at the end, down to a small tip.
“You seem to have a pretty good idea for what you are making now.” Gaeolin sat next to his daughter, watching Auroth.
“This isn’t spur of the moment. I need a new pipe, and can’t wait forever to get a new one. The only shop I trust in Skyrim for it is the Drunken Huntsman. Elrindir is a wonderful pipe maker.” He inspected his work so far. “This might not be as nice as my old one, but it will smoke fine.”
“What happened to your old one?”
The altmer didn’t look up. “It had a crack in the bowl. Couldn’t get a good draft through it anymore.”
“When did that happen?” the Bosmer asked, eying a bowl next to his friend. He assumed it was something he intended to put in his new pipe, but something about it looked off.
“…Rather recently, in fact,” Auroth said, continuing to whittle, though he was becoming increasingly standoff-ish.
Gaeolin frowned, and stood to get a better look at the bowl. Auroth paid him no mind, but stole a glance at the bowl beside him. Of course he would have a smoke when he was done, what – wait. Oh. Oh no. He stopped whittling, the only sound in the room Ma’isha scraping at her own wood project and the meat sizzling over the fire.
“What is that?” Auroth swallowed hard. How had he mistaken vampire dust for his pipe stuffing? “I’m not sure I like the smell of that, it’s awfully familiar,” he heard Gaeolin say. “Where did you get that?”
Even Inigo had glanced back to see what was going on. Auroth had frozen in place, afraid to even move. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Faendal stood to answer it, but Auroth moved first, the bowl missing from the table. “Oh, imagine that, who could it be??” the High Elf announced, speeding for the front door.
“What?” Gaeolin turned to Inigo. “What was that about? What happened to his pipe? And…” he sniffed the air with a frown. “…Is that vampire dust?”
“Uh no,” Inigo fumbled with the spit, returning gaze to the meat, though it was no longer on his mind. “I smell goose meat, and it is quite close to being ready.”
Gaeolin looked ready to get quite serious when Auroth reentered the doorway with a letter in hand. “Sir Gaeolin of Woodhearth,” he announced, holding out the letter with a cheery tone. “I believe you’ve been summoned.”
Gaeolin took the letter, eyeing the mage with suspicion. He allowed the question to slip from his mind as he opened the note.
Gaeolin of Woodhearth,
Your adventures of late have taken you from one end of Skyrim, to the other, and back again. You have slain a master vampire, saved Morthal, and driven off some of the worst pirates Haafingar has seen in years. All of these things earned you a few days rest with your family.
But I must insist, it is time for you to return to the task we discussed several months ago. Meet me in Riverwood, the usual place. I have a plan that will help us learn more about this situation. Do not keep me waiting.
A Friend
He shook his head. “She’s nothing if not persistent.”
Inigo cocked his head. “Who is it from?”
“Delphine. She wants to speak to us.” Gaeolin ran a hand over his face. “I had meant to meet with her several weeks ago, but life got in the way.”
Auroth smirked. “Or the lack of the same. What’s such a big deal that you meet with her? If memory serves, Delphine is the innkeeper in Riverwood.”
“It’s a long story, one I think we could tell en route.” Gaeolin turned to Ma’isha, dropping to her level. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wanted to stay longer, but this is very important. Lots of people could get hurt if we don’t go and help them.”
She sent him a heartbreaking look. “Papa… Please stay… You’ve been gone for so long, and you only just got back.”
Gaeolin’s resolved wavered under her eyes. He might have decided against going if Faendal had not stepped in. “Tabby, don’t make the parting any harder for your father.” He sent Gaeolin a sad smile. “Believe me when I tell you he wants nothing more than to stay. But he must go.” He squeezed her shoulder. “The name Gaeolin means hope to many people these days. He goes because he loves you, and wants you to be safe.”
Gaeolin looked at Faendal. He wasn’t sure what he could say as thanks. He watched as Ma’isha’s features calmed. He instead pulled the girl into a hug. “I promise, I won’t be gone nearly as long this time.” He stood, scratching her behind the ear. “Be good for Faendal.”
“I will, Papa.” She left the room, her fox on her heel, whining to her as if he knew she were upset. He turned back to Faendal.
“Go raibh maith agat … I gcás go léir a dhéanann tú as a cuid.”[1]
Faendal’s smile flickered a bit. “Ní dhéanaim é ach as a cuid.”[2]He hesitated, then held up his hand. His ring and little finger folded to his palm, the index and middle staying straight as the hand turned so that his palm was to his face. He brought his fingers to his forehead, just above his nose. He drew them across his brow, moving around his cheek and down to rest under his lip. He bowed his head, closing his eyes.
Gaeolin made to speak, but nothing came. He reached out, putting a hand on Faendal’s shoulder. “Faendal…” Their eyes met. “You never have to do that ever again.” He was equally flattered and angry. “Bí sábháilte, go dtí seo chugainn.”[3]
“Tá tú chomh maith.”[4] Faendal whispered. He left the room, seeming as upset as Gaeolin, but perhaps for a different reason. Inigo looked utterly lost.
“I’m sorry, my friend but…” He looked in the direction of the stewards exit. “What in the world just happened?”
Auroth wore an expression of embarrassment. “Trust me, it would take a long time to explain. And at any rate, it really isn’t for either of us to get involved with.”
Gaeolin looked to Auroth, eyes wide. “You know?”
“I didn’t spend ninety years studying in Valenwood without learning the customs, Gaeolin…”
The bosmer cleared his throat. “Well… Let’s set out. I want to take care of this.” He grabbed his cloak, swinging it over his shoulders as he strode from the hall and out the door.
The day had turned clouded, the smell of rain hanging over the forest as they walked. Auroth watched his leader, considering him. Gaeolin’s reaction had made sense to him. No matter how one felt, it would have to take very weak self esteem to do what Faendal had. Why? Gaeolin didn’t think himself better than anyone. Certainly, from what the altmer had seen, he considered Faendal an equal. The last time he had heard of that gesture being performed had been centuries ago. He would have pressed the issue with Gaeolin, but it was clear that he didn’t want to discuss it with them at the moment.
“Rain rain, don’t go away. Come again everyday.” Inigo sang softly to himself. He checked Mr. Dragonfly’s jar, tightening it as they began their way up the road toward Riverwood.
It was a little after midday before they reached the Sleeping Giant. Inigo pulled the door shut, the floor soaked a full foot and a half into the room in the time it took for the portal to be closed. The wind had driven the rain like a volley of icy projectiles. Auroth slicked his hair out of his eyes, his armor still dripping from areas that had held some of the precipitation. Gaeolin made his way toward the back room, nodding to Orgnar as he passed.
The false door of the wardrobe was closed. He reached into his bag, pulling out the silver key Delphine had trusted him with. The panel slid to the side easily. Gaeolin descended the narrow staircase, greeted by an angry glare for the woman. “Where in Oblivion have you…” She stopped, seeing Auroth appear behind him. Quick as a flash, she had a katana at his throat. “You brought one of them?!”
Gaeolin pushed himself between the two. “Wait! He’s not Thalmor! He’s a friend.”
Inigo had an arrow on his string. “Just mind where you hold that sword, lady.”
Auroth pushed the blade away from his neck. “Everyone calm down. I am not surprised by our hostess’ reaction.” He sent her a firm look. “She is wanted by the Thalmor even more than I. Isn’t that true, Blade?”
Delphine remained ready to attack. “And how do I know you’re not a plant? What if you’ve gotten to Gaeolin and he has no choice but to lead you here?”
He scowled. “Even you would have heard of Elmond Lirician.”
She stared, her blade falling. “Truly? The traitor of the Nibenay Massacre?”
“I prefer champion of morality, but yes. According to the official reports.”
Gaeolin spoke up, breaking the moment. “I am sorry it took so long. I was kind of busy being dead…” Delphine frowned.
“I’d ask for details, but feel it would take too much time.” She sheathed her sword. “I have a plan to get you into the Thalmor Embassy.”
Auroth looked alarmed. “And you want me to believe you are sane?”
She rolled her eyes. “I won’t go into the whole backstory. We have little choice about the matter. I’m sure Gaeolin can fill you in on the way there.”
Gaeolin sat on the table. “So, what is the plan?”
“The Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen, regularly throws parties where the rich and connected cozy up to the Thalmor.” She paced the room, Auroth leaning over the alchemy lab while she continued. “I can get you into one of these parties. Once you’re inside the Embassy, you get away and find Elenwen’s secret files. I have a contact inside the Embassy.” She hesitated. “He’s normally not up to this kind of high risk mission, but he’ll help you. His name is Malborn. Wood Elf, like you.” She grimaced. “Plenty of reasons to hate the Thalmor. I’ll get word to him to meet you at the WInking Skeever in Solitude. While you’re meeting him, I’ll work on getting you an invitation to Elenwen’s little party.” Auroth coughed. She turned to him with a warning glance.
“You can just… get one?” Gaeolin let his worry show in his tone.
“It’ll be real, don’t worry. As long as you can act the part of a Thalmor toady, you’ll get past the guards.” Auroth coughed harder. “Are you dying?” Delphine spun around to face him.
“No, but I don’t really want my friend to.” He made his way to the table. “Putting aside my doubts that you can forge a convincing imitation of a Thalmor signet seal, or that you can come up with an alias for Gaeolin that would be convincing, you seem to be approaching this as if we were just looting the local baker.” He leaned on the table, his features sharp. “This is Elenwen of Eyevea… She is one of the most powerful mages the Thalmor have. SHe is a master Illusionist, unrivaled in the arts of Alteration. Hell, she translated several of Shalidor’s works for the Galerion Mages Guild. You cannot expect her to be fooled by a sneaking quill and a false name.”
Delphine’s face went pink. “I have been in the business of stealth and infiltration for years.”
“And I have been a footman for the Dominion, and personally had training for Special Forces. The Embassy will be filled with members of the Extermination Corps. The doors will be trapped with destruction wards. The halls will try to turn, misdirecting the unaware into the waiting hands of the enemy.” He tapped the table with his fist. “Your plan is impossibly far fetched. If Gaeolin walks in under this ruse, he will not walk out.”
She seemed to see his point, but was no less enraged. “Well then… What do you suggest?”
Auroth looked around the room, scouring his mind for options. He paced, then stopped by a weapon rack. His face went slack in realization. “Me…”
Gaeolin cocked an eyebrow. “You?”
Auroth looked him in the eye. “That’s how you get in. You are going to go to Elenwen,” he gave a nervous smile, “to collect the bounty for turning me in for my crimes against the Dominion.”
***********************************************
Translated Lines:
- Thank you… For everything you do for her.
- I don’t do it just for her.
- Be safe, until next we meet.
- You as well.
Mapes Fiction Publication 