Chapter Nineteen

Inigo picked off the last of his breakfast. Aside from the ale Delphine had recommended, which was actually quite good, The Braidwood Inn had some great food. A plate of cheese, eggs, and fresh bread left his stomach content. He swirled his ale, thinking of last night and the battle. Gaeolin hadn’t spoken much after they came to the inn. Inigo had noticed how worn down he was. The Khajiit took another drink, turning to see his friend emerge from his room.

“How are you, my friend?” Inigo made his way to the bar, leaning across from his companion. 

Gaeolin drew his hand over his face as he sighed. “Not so good this morning. I feel like I slept on a torture slab…” The Innkeeper shot a scathing look his way, inspiring him to mutter an apology. “I don’t even know what to think right now. I feel… dazed.”

“I am remembering the first time I got drunk. I woke up with a shaved tail, and an ear full of goat cheese.” Gaeolin, once again unsure if his friend was trying to make a joke, could do little more than stare at this comment. “But if you mean what should we do, I would suggest returning the Horn to Arngeir first.”

“Seems like the reasonable thing. We left to get it two weeks ago.” Gaeolin buckled his belt into place, adjusting his sword in preparation for their trip. Inigo watched for a moment.  “I’ve just been thinking about… Them, more often these past few days.” He fastened his cloak, looking away from his companion in the process. “My brother would have been almost thirty four now. I remember how much he annoyed me then. Always tried to follow me when I would try to go play.”

Inigo offered a consoling expression. “What was his name?”

“Annor…” Gaeolin’s face stayed stoic. “We were always told our family had good luck, to have two healthy children so close together. Elves conceive rarely, and only a handful of times. Papa always said mother was blessed by Mara. Thinking back, he seems like a hopeless romantic to me. From what little I remember of our life back then, I’d have called it simple. But happy… A leather worker and his wife, raising their sons by the sea.”

“It sounds like a wonderful way of living to me.” Inigo said. “The beauty of the mundane is often lost on people. Granted, I myself have always wanted adventure, but I can understand the appeal of being settled. Having a set routine, befriending your neighbors, practicing your craft and seeing people seek your work. There is a certain charm to it.” 

“To think all of that was lost, and now I learn it may have been my family’s fault in the first place.”

Inigo’s gentle smile slipped at this. “You have no way of knowing if that’s true. And besides, a tanner and his family don’t seem worth that much effort.”

“But my Grandfather was a blade. He fought with Martin Septim during the Oblivion Crisis. The Thalmor would have seen that as enough of a tie to the Empire to worry about our village.”

“You shouldn’t let her plant more doubt and self hate in your head.” Inigo interjected. “Even if Delphine was right, none of that was YOUR fault. You were what? Eleven years old? Knee high to a guar? You couldn’t have stopped them…”

Gaeolin stiffened a little at the remark. “You really don’t like Delphine, do you?”

“She has some nasty hatred boiling in her heart. She’d light the world on fire to get back at the Thalmor.”

Gaeolin’s expression grew stormy, his arms crossing as he looked down at the countertop. “So, you’re telling me that the Thalmor don’t deserve to be punished?” Before Inigo could respond, he pushed forward. “They’ve slaughtered thousands. To this day, they still do. I’ve been all across Tamriel, seeing refugees flooding away from their reach. They care only for suppressing all but their own kind. After all they’ve done, you don’t think they deserve every ounce of retaliation?”

The khajiit’s ears turned back in sorrow. “I don’t think it’s worth losing yourself. We’ve spoken of regrets before, don’t make another one. For you, or me…”   

Gaeolin’s face fell. The meaning was clear, and it made him wish he had never gone to Delphine. If Alduin had never shown up, or he’d been able to crawl to a safer hiding place before the Imperials and Stormcloaks had clashed, maybe things never would have come to this. “Inigo… I-I’m sorry…” He looked to him, almost pleading. “Are you still coming with me?”

“Of course I am.” He offered a weak smile. “I have to protect you from yourself after all. Now eat some breakfast before the miners come in and pick the place apart.”