Beorning awoke feeling better rested and more alive than he had since, he couldn’t remember when. Warm light streaming through the shutters made the motes of dust dance around the windows in his room and the red quilt covering the bed was luxuriously comfortable. A languorous feeling lay deep within and he had a moments tranquility before past memories crowded his memory. How did I get here? being foremost, with it the crush of the cramped prison cell, Summerisle, the underground river, the sea and escape then a blank until the creak of rigging, the noise of town and the dust of the desert. People, dinner then another blank and then this glorious bed.
His waking mind focused on recent memories. He’d been quiet on board the ship and Captain Timo, graciously, had asked few questions. Perhaps not trusting the tongues of his crew once they reached port, Timo’d quickly disguised Beorning in local clothes and a keffiyeh before rushing him to his brothers house. Which meant that he’d likely brought trouble to the house, which brought Beorning upright and awake.
With a groan he got up from the bed and found a fine green tunic and brown breeks by the bed, that actually fit him. He wriggled in the good cloth remembering the feel of clothes that actually fit. Once dressed he walked downstairs to find his host already sitting at the long dining table.
“Greetings to my host and saviour.” He nodded at the two men, “It is time I told my story, if you have time?” His voice was deep but rough and irregular through a lack of use.
“Indeed we have, we are intrigued to know!” Otalo’s voice was mid-range and smooth, with humble tones but an experienced edge. The sound of someone used to command but did not require shouting to achieve it.
“Words will be slow, I think, I’ve not had human company for many years until Timo here rescued me.”
“Thank Teva, not me, I was merely the Goddess’ instrument!”
“Teva? If I remember we call her Kynareth and my Nord family call her Kyne, she has ever been my patron.” Beorning smiled, in a face that had not seen much to smile about in a long time. “Let me think where to start…” he paused and then nodded “yes. I suspect you remember the of the Battle of the Red Ring?”
“How could we forget! It started our war of independence from the Empire and the Aldmeri.”
“It was the year my mother died, she led a guild during the Great War. As the war ended a strange Breton woman came to my father’s house. Lodbrok was a silversmith and we lived near Bruma.”
“How old were you then?”
“10 or 11 I think, what year are we now?”
“It is the 195th year of the Fourth Era.”
“Hmmm almost ten years…” his eyes de-focussed on his audience, “ahh apologies my thoughts wander… I must have been 11, my birthday was earlier in that year. The Breton woman turned up around Mid-Year bearing a note from my mother. We all took it hard but knew the losses from the Battle of the Red Ring were high and so it was not a big surprise. That Modir had left our money to a strange Breton woman, so that she could train and protect us was a big surprise. Fadir wasn’t keen on the idea so this woman, Meara Benirus, originally from Anvil stayed in a local house and set up an Apothecary store.
She used to bake wonderful Honey Fruit and Nut treats which made me stop past her house regularly. As she knew my mother I was curious and Meara used to tell me tales of the Reivers who my Modir led. She also had various wooden swords which she encouraged me to practice with. But mostly she told me of how the Aldmeri Dominion had hated my Modir, Kudri Whitefire, and wanted her death.
Gradually we became friends, it probably helped that she also worshipped Talos so we used to regularly see her at the new Shrine hidden in the Jerall Mountains. I knew that my Modir wanted us to move closer to her Fire clan in Falkreath but Fadir, Lodbrok, was happy and didn’t want to leave. So I grew up in Applewatch with occasional trips to Bruma with Fadir to sell his Silverwares. Meara would train me in basic magicka and sword skills, she respected our Nord ways and ensured there was a focus on the two-handed weapons; sword, hammer and axe.
My sisters listened to Fadir and had little to do with Meara, as they got older I’d have to sneak away from them as they’d tell on me if they saw me. I suppose she became a mother like figure to me really, like an Aunt or something. Of course my Uncle Eirik still stopped past whenever trade took him near Bruma to keep an eye on his Nephew and Nieces, I always liked to see him as he brought great gifts for us. I always felt like Fadir treated me differently to my sisters whilst Eirik always welcomed me like a long lost son.
As I got older I started to help Fadir in his forge, starting with the bellows and then moving onto smithing iron daggers and simple tools like pickaxes, shovels and wood axes. On my 16th birthday Meara took me through her diaries of her time with the Reivers and how the Thalmor killed Modir. I’ve not liked the Altmer since then, although now those haughty Mer are my sworn enemies... ”
Otalo interjected “Well they are also our sworn enemies, after the Treaty of Stros M'kai.”
“...I remember the news coming of the Redguard success. Meara told me.” Beorning took a deep draught of the wine, savouring it with the satisfaction of a man who has had a long thirst with little expectation of sating it.
“Her diaries also explained why Fadir seemed a bit detached from me, when my real father was some mysterious Nord, one of the Emperor’s Blades. Those diaries, their tales of the Reivers, of derring-do and my heroic mother fuelled a restless desire for adventure.” He smiled as if he’d not quite remembered happiness enough to get as far as a laugh.
“I spent much of my days dreaming of being a Blade, with a legendary sword and saving the Emperor,” Beorning swung his two hands as if with this mighty blade and managed a short, barking laugh.
“I was probably a lot of trouble to Fadir around then but he was a patient man and loved me in his way. Our work together in the Forge did create a strong bond between us and he wearily accepted that I was going to see Meara whatever he said or did. Over time he seemed to have mellowed towards Meara too, they were always civil at the Temple to Talos.”
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