Chapter Twenty Eight

Rain pattered against the thatched roof. The smell of the soil filled Gaeolin’s nose as he looked northward from the balcony of the manor. Thunder rumbled through the mountains, telling of a stronger storm farther off. It had been slow the past few days. Relaxing, calm… Ma’isha had rushed from her room to greet them when they arrived. She’d grown a bit taller, her fur much cleaner since he’d found her in Whiterun. With a sigh, he turned to enter the house. 

“Papa!” He smiled, looking down to the dining room below. “Has it stopped raining yet? I wanted to show you the funny rocks I found.” She met him at the bottom of the stairs with eyes alight. 

“No, it’s still coming down. It may not stop until tomorrow.” He knelt down, lifting her chin when her face slumped in defeat. “But never mind the weather, there’s plenty we can do inside.” He looked around, desperately trying to think of something his daughter might find interesting. “Where’s Inigo and Faendal? It’s too quiet in here.”

“Faendal left for Falkreath to pick up some iron from the smith. Inigo is writing something. I promised him we’d let him have some time to himself.” She giggled. “He talks to himself when he writes.”

Gaeolin smirked, recalling a few instances where he’d overheard his friend as he filled his journal. As the elf’s eyes passed his gear by the door, an idea came to him. “Do you want to help me make some arrows? I’ll need more when Inigo and I leave for Riften in a few days.” She perked up, nodding in excitement. “Come on, we’ll go to the workshop and I’ll teach you how to fletch.” 

Lakeview was everything Gaeolin had ever wanted in a home. When the time had come to dig the basement, he told Siddgeir’s builders to make plenty of space for what amounted to a private blacksmith’s workshop. The forge was still burning, but lower than if it were to be used. It cast a glow throughout the basement, and lent a smoky haze to the ceiling above. As they entered, he grabbed a bag from the chest of materials, along with a bundle of arrow shafts he’d cut previously, and a spool of thin twine. 

“Okay,” he set the materials down before lighting a candle, “fletching is something that takes time to get a hold on. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and I still make bad arrows on occasion. First, I’ll show you how to trim the feathers.” Ma’isha hopped onto a chair at the table, watching her father as he unsheathed his trusty dagger.

“Trim off the tip of the quill, then split it in half along the core.” He drew the knife deftly along the feather. “Then, we split the halves into as many segments as we can. I usually manage three out of each half.”

“Is there any kind of bird that makes better arrows?” She grabbed one of the whole feathers, smiling at the striped pattern of the fibers. 

“I usually try to use Hawk feathers, but if you want waterproof fletching, goose or duck feathers work really well.” He smiled. “I might also mention that wing and tail feathers are prefered. They are long enough to get three to four fins out of them.” He finished splitting up the feather, handing her the knife. “Do you think you could try to start cutting some more down?”

“Yeah!” She sat with the knife in hand, trying to be careful with the sharp edge. She took a bit to get started, but soon had a decent pile finished. “Did you learn this from your father, Papa?”

Gaeolin had started sharpening some arrowheads, looking to her with a soft expression. “Actually, it was my mother. She was always the hunter in our house. She also taught me how to shoot and clean animals.” He looked over at his daughter’s handiwork. “Careful to keep them around the same size.” He grabbed another point to sharpen.

“Like this?” She offered up a few of the segments. Gaeolin nodded, giving her a wide grin.

“Yes, those are wonderful. If you can, try to keep each side of the feather separate for me.”

“How come?”

He grabbed one of the uncut feathers, pointing to the filaments. You see how these have a slight curve to them? When we put them on the arrow, they make it spin to fly straight. If we put some on them that are angled the wrong way, it will fly badly.” He took a few of the fins, taking the twine and cutting some segments of it. 

“My parents never let me do anything like this.” Ma’isha continued trimming. “Mama was worried I’d hurt myself, and Pa was always working in the fields. I mostly just played with the chickens.”

“Playing is fun though.” Gaeolin responded. “I loved playing at your age. Climbing trees, hide and seek, and I used to go fishing on the docks all the time.” He paused in reflection. “My brother hated when I went off with my friends. Mother had so much trouble keeping him from fussing.”

Ma’isha made a face. “I didn’t have siblings, older or younger. I’m glad about that. Brothers and sisters sound like they would be annoying.”

“They aren’t so bad. Yeah, they get on your nerves at times, but they also make even the smallest things seem like a wonder. Mine always thought it was the most amazing thing to watch me practice my archery. He’d sit in the straw, playing with the cat until I shot. When he heard my string, he’d stare at the target and clap like mad.” The elf fell quiet for a second. “It made me try to improve, knowing he was my biggest fan.”

“Do we need more of these, papa?” Ma’isha looked at the bag of plumes, clearly hoping he would tell her to stop.

“That’s enough for now.” He took a few shafts, handing them to the child. “Now, I want you to watch me, and do as I do.” He took the twine in hand. “Hold the fin right here, keep it going straight across from where the nock is cut. Wrap the twine here in the groove.” He twirled the string over the bit of quill that had no fibers emerging. “Now, wind it a couple times and add the second a little way around the shaft.” He repeated the step with the third fletch, nodding with satisfaction at his work.

“Won’t the twine come undone?”

Gaeolin grinned at the question. “That’s why we use this. He reached over near the forge to a small, iron pot. He pulled out a spoon that was dripping with a stringy, sticking substance. “The hide glue will keep it in place. We’ll wrap the back ends of the fletching, and glue them. After that, all that’s left is to attach the heads, and seal them so they don’t fall apart in the rain.”

 Ma’isha watched him spread the glue for a moment. She started winding her first fletch on, asking softly. “What was his name?”

“The name of whom?”

“Your brother.”

Gaeolin stared into the steel barb, the forge light sending a shard of orange along the sharpened edge.

“Ohmret…” 

She stopped her work, sending him sad eyes. “How long ago did they die?” Gaeolin looked to her with surprise. “I know they died. The way you look when you remember them… I know how that feels.”

“It’s been a long time.”

She put her paw on his arm, making him stop his task. “I’m sorry, papa.” 

Forgetting the arrows, Gaeolin pulled her into an embrace. When he had adopted Ma’isha, he would never have thought he’d have been comforted by her.