LotS: Frost Moon Chapter Three - First Signs of Trouble

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    Chapter Three

    First Signs of Trouble

     

    Content Warning: Language

     

    The eruption of the Red Mountain in 4E 5 had drastically changed the neighboring island’s identity. Divided into two halves by an encroachment of ash and molten rock, the southern half of the island took on the name Southern Ash Lands, while the north, with its obviously mountainous terrain, referred to as the Northern Mountains. Solstheim’s geography had been this way well before Leiv and Eydis settled into Skaal Village, but to the sons who had spent their entire lives with snow under their boots and hale trees at their backs, the barrenness of the Ash Lands was unsettling to behold. They kept quiet throughout the journey, observing with wariness the charred, petrified trees and wide prickly scathecrow growing where it pleased, with leaves a bruised shade of deep purple.

     

    Even Rakki refrained from barking, leaving two perpendicular trails in the ash as she pulled the sled behind her. The peacefulness of their canine companion should have been taken as a fortunate sign, but the solemnity was maintained until the pair laid eyes on the trading post tucked into the shadow of a mountain range.

     

    “Finally,” said Reidar, more out of relief than exasperation, and he hastened into the miserable-looking shack, nudging an empty wine bottle out of his way as he dropped his weight into a chair.

     

    “Looks like we’re the first ones here. If they show at all. My money’s on the ash hoppers.” Reidar’s pack slid from his shoulders, landing beside the chair with a solid thunk, the heavy parcel made to lean against the chair leg. “They’re getting big enough to bite off a finger.”

     

    Rakki shook the detritus from her fur as Kjeld freed her from the harness, dragging the furs and furniture-laden sled onto the trading post platform and out of the wind. If it could even be called a shack; it was more of a decrepit, one-roomed hovel that was too wind battered and gap-toothed to be called any kind of dwelling at all.

     

    "You won't get much coin if they end up dead." Kjeld gave Reidar's chair a hard nudge with the side of his boot. "Light the lantern, I'll check the path for tracks."

     

    As Reidar fumbled around in his pack for firesteel, Kjeld plodded over creaking boards to watch for their awaited guests.

     

    Three days had passed since the letter's arrival. All of the Skaal knew of it; keeping a secret in a village of fourteen was an impossible feat. Though the ever curious Aeta had tried to flush out the letter's contents, Kjeld kept it close to him, and would give no more than the obvious. Such was his way.

     

     Reidar had taken a much less private approach. If Kjeld hadn't threatened to take him on a pilgrimage to the All-Maker stones in pieces, Reidar would've sung like a nightingale to the warriors of Thirsk. While forbidden to enlighten curious neighbors on the letter, Reidar still strutted about as if he had a badge of honor pinned to his chest.

     

    Kjeld didn't blame the village for sending them to barter with the merchants of Raven Rock. Everyone needed a break from Reidar's ego from time to time.

     

    Kjeld had been eager for this excursion; though he’d hardly admit it, he needed a break too, from Frea’s distrustful looks and the bad taste in his mouth every time they crossed paths. It was going to be a long year, if nothing between them changed.

     

    Surveying the barren surroundings, he studied the indiscriminate patterns in the ash; tracking was a feat Reidar could lay a bigger claim to, but Kjeld wasn’t entirely unskilled the endeavor. He could tell the difference between a wolf and a bear, for example, and it was easy enough to distinguish the footfalls of men or mer. What he saw before him, however, was…. Nothing. Nothing at all beyond that of an ash hopper and maybe a rabbit; there was no sign of the merchants' arrival.

     

    Then we're early. There was a high chance, Kjeld was reluctant to admit, that the traders wouldn't show. It could be anything as banal as a broken cart or bad weather, to something much more severe. All they could do was keep honing their patience and cross their fingers that it did not go unrewarded.

     

    “Nothing yet,” said Kjeld as he returned to the shack. “We’ll give them two hours.” There was only one chair, so Kjeld chose to stand under the lit lantern, leaning against the weather-thrashed siding.

     

    “Know any good stories?”

     

    Reidar propped his boots up on an overturned crate, folding his arms behind his head. The picture of relaxation. “So,” he said. “What’s happening with you and Frea?”

     

    Kjeld’s head turned sharply. “What? Nothing.”

     

    Reidar snorted. “Doesn’t seem like nothing. Did you upset her?”

     

    “We had a disagreement. That’s all. It’s none of your business, so keep your nose out of it.”

     

    To his relief, Reidar shrugged.

     

    “Fine.” Said Reidar, nonchalant. “Guess your shoulder isn’t up for discussion either.”

     

    Kjeld stared at him. How did he—

     

    “Over here!” Reidar suddenly stood, and began to wave over two heavily clothed, hooded figures carrying a bindle between them. The merchants had arrived, though they seemed fewer than expected. In fact, there seemed to be only one. It was a surprise to see the aged Dunmer plodding through the ash to reach them, but the Skaal had learned early on not to underestimate their gray-skinned, red-eyed neighbors. Old Fethis Alor was stooped in posture and long in the tooth, even with hunched back he was still as tall as Reidar, the cloth covering his mouth falling down to reveal a tight, thin-lipped frown of concentration as he and his companion lugged the bindle onto the table, knocking bottles aside. The second figure was no merchant.

     

    To Kjeld, he looked as if he had been swallowed by some enormous chitinous insect, and had broken off pieces of its tough outer shell after he fought his way out. Given what stories Kjeld had heard of Morrowind’s wildlife, this sounded possible. Chitin plates served as shoulder guards, bracers, greaves, and even the boots on the stranger’s feet. The helmet was bulbous, with goggles somehow attached to the front, furthering the ‘bug-like’ look with rounded protruding lenses. The voice emanating from the helmet, however, was quite familiar.

     

    “Ahh, the Brothers Skaal. It’s been a long time.”

     

    Teldryn Sero was a sellsword, and given Fethis’ dwindling health, it only made sense that the old merchant would hire some muscle to fend off (at the very least) the more lethal fauna of the island.

     

    Kjeld glanced at Reidar, quietly displeased. Of course it was only a matter of time before his brother caught on. Just because he’d been expecting this didn’t mean it wasn’t rattling him. He didn’t begin to guess how Reidar would react to the truth; mainly because he had no plans to tell him a damn thing. His secrets were his secrets, and he’d be damned if he let his brother pry them out of him.

     

    While Reidar grasped Teldryn by the forearm, the two trading quips, Kjeld was helping Fethis unpack the bindle.
    “Tough journey?” He tried to make polite conversation.

     

    Fethis shook out a dusty handkerchief and wiped his brow, dropping into the chair Reidar had previously been in.
    “No worse than usual, I suppose. What have the Skaal brought this time?”

     

    During the first week of every second month, the Skaal would come to the trading post to honor an agreement between the village and the citizens of Raven Rock. Each had resources the other needed, this was a way for both struggling groups to thrive.

     

    While Rakki was busy sniffing Teldryn Sero’s strange chitin boots, Kjeld drew back the leather coverings, revealing a modest amount of salted elk, wolf and bristleback meat, with two necklaces fashioned out of wolf teeth resting neatly on top. It was a small haul, but still valuable; there was not much hunting to be done in the Southern Ash Lands. They were willing to part with the meat without hesitation. The All-Maker had been good to their hunters and trackers, and it was not of their culture to hoard their resources for themselves.

     

    Fethis nodded soberly. “Good, good. All that damned fighting in Skyrim has made supply runs scarce. Here’s what we can spare.” The merchant gestured to his own supplies, revealing ores of quicksilver, gold and corundum, as well as dyed cloths and alchemical ingredients. Raven Rock had formerly been a mining settlement, and had been built around one of the largest ebony mines on the island; formerly, because the mines were dry.

     

    In keeping with Fanari’s instructions, coin went into and out of Kjeld’s palm, and goods were carefully divided between them. Baldor would be pleased about the quicksilver ore, and Kjeld found little to grumble about; they were simple folk, but they enjoyed a few luxury goods from time to time. He knew Aeta would be dancing on the clouds when he returned with the cloth—Finna would surely be making her a new dress.

     

    “Oh, almost forgot.” Fethis unshouldered a smaller pack, and shook out its contents onto the table.
    “Take a browse, if ye’d like.”

     

    Fethis muttered something about the unnecessary weight, but Kjeld wasn’t listening. Instead, his eyes had lit up at the dusty leather tomes Fethis had unceremoniously placed in front of him. Within seconds, he could tell by the titles on the spines that none of these three books would have anything to do with the Dwemer culture. The Lost Mer, as Kjeld was wont to call them, had been a fascination of his since boyhood—but so too was reading. He couldn’t say he was disappointed (maybe a little), any opportunity for new reading materials was an opportunity he relished. After setting aside Lives of the Saints, and The Axe Man, Kjeld’s heart lurched, his fingers brushing against the faded gold lettering on the last book.

     

    Lycanthropic Legends of Skyrim. As casually as he could, Kjeld opened the book, skimming over the first few lines.

    I had heard the same rumors as everyone else -- that the province of Skyrim was awash in various forms of Lycanthropy. I had studied werewolves for some time, and was keen to see if these rumors of Werebears were actually substantiated. I elected to pursue these studies in the warmer summer months in deference to my fragile constitution.

     

    Werebears. It was the first time he had ever encountered a book on werebears. Kjeld had to remind himself to breathe. Finally, finally, after all this time. Leiv had left him nothing, no letters to explain what had been happening to him, no lingering words of reassurance, no journal to remind him that he was not alone in one of the most horrible, confusing times in his life.

     

    Relax. It could be nothing. ‘Nothing’ or not, Kjeld wasn’t leaving without this book.

     

    Would Fethis grow suspicious if he purchased this one? Would Reidar?

     

    “I’ll take them all.” He was loath to part with so much coin. He was even more loath to draw unnecessary attention to himself. Call him paranoid, but he had good reason to be.

     

    After helping old Fethis with his bindle, Kjeld stepped out into the ash lands, whistling for Rakki. The dog came trotting over and as he harnessed her up, Kjeld caught the tail end of Reidar and Teldryn’s conversation.

     

    “My last patron was a true Nord.  He was dressed in animal skins, had tattoos on his face... a real traditional type, if you know what I mean. He had an insatiable bloodlust and was extremely stubborn... one of the toughest employers I've ever had. Dragged me hither and yon, though, and I’ve enough ruined boots to prove it."

     

    Reidar shook his head, impressed. “Why stick around him so long, then? Getting a craving for battle, Tel?”

     

    Teldryn chuckled, the already quiet sound muffled further by the helmet he had neglected to remove. “Hardly. … He paid well. Very well.”

     

    “He must’ve run out of coin then, if you’re back in Solstheim.”

     

    “Not exactly. We’d just cleared a ruined fort somewhere outside of Whiterun, and when we got outside, we saw one of them galloping away on horseback. Well, my boss wasn’t about to let him get away, so we pursued.” Despite the helmet, Teldryn’s exasperation was clear. “On foot, for three days.”

     

    Reidar grinned. “Soft-soles. Go on.”

     

    "Until we ended up tracking him to one of the largest bandit encampments I'd ever seen. My patron took one look at me, and made the most menacing grin I'd ever seen. At that moment, I knew I'd never see him again. No amount of money would ever be worth that kind of death.”

     

    “Thanks for the storytelling, Teldryn.” Said Kjeld, his smile tight. “Guess who has to listen to him on the whole journey home?” Reidar lived for these stories. It was going to be a long walk to the village. Still, he preferred Reidar’s endless prattling to him suddenly asking all the wrong questions.

     

    Teldryn chuckled. “Well if you get sick of him, send him to Raven Rock. Something tells me he’d like to try his hand as a sellsword.” The Dunmer shrugged, adding with a bit of good-natured condescension. “Assuming he can use that axe.”

     

    “Oh I can,” Reidar pulled it from the weapon holster, twirling it deftly by the handle. “One of these days, they’re going to be hiring me instead of you.”

     

    Teldryn laughed, but Kjeld recognized that tone. Every time he heard it, he liked it less. With every month that went by, it seemed like Reidar’s wanderlust only grew.

     

    After making sure the books were secure in his pack, Kjeld eased the sled back onto the ash. “Time to go home, Reidar. Come on.”

     

    The two Dark Elves, one grumbling and one tolerating, blew out the lantern and began to walk back the way they’d came. Reidar scratched Rakki behind the ears, but both dog and youth looked up as Teldryn called over his shoulder a final warning;

     

    “Watch yourselves, Brothers Skaal. We aren’t the only mer traipsing through the ashes here.”

    ♦♦♦

    Kjeld took long strides, his quick pace only forced to slow in order to not lose sight of Rakki, who followed after her master with happy obedience. Reidar had perfected the skill of walking and carrying on a one-sided conversation with himself, and Kjeld was content to ignore him. Grunting or making small remarks only when his silence would’ve been noticed.

     

    “Whiterun’s probably three times the size of Raven Rock. I bet even being a guard there must be exciting; not like the Jarl makes them chop up deadwood.”

     

    Kjeld grunted noncommittally. If he’d been out here alone, Kjeld would have stayed at the shack long enough to read the book cover to cover, devouring each page like it was the key to everything. The part of his personality that demanded clear-thinking and logic over pinning his hopes on this one book saw little reason to celebrate. Not yet.

     

    “Kjeld look! A naked woman just ran by!”

     

    Kjeld’s brow furrowed, and he instinctively glanced around. “What?”

     

    “Pervert.” Reidar gave himself ample time to smirk before speaking more seriously. “You’re not listening. I’m serious about leaving Solstheim.”

     

    Kjeld rolled his eyes. If he had a book for every time Reidar had pulled a childish trick on him, there wouldn’t be any space in his room to sleep.

     

    “Uh-huh. So what’s stopping you?”

     

    Helmi. I thought that’d be obvious.” Said Reidar. “I want our niece or nephew to know my face before I get on the next ship to Windhelm.”

     

    Kjeld’s small blue eyes narrowed further. Was Reidar being serious? No, he couldn’t be. There’s no way he’s getting on a ship to Windhelm. With reproach, Kjeld asked. “So as soon as the baby’s born, you’re… ?”

     

    “Smoke on the wind~” Said Reidar in a singsong voice, smirking. “You’re looking at Tamriel’s next greatest sellsword. Next time you see me, brother, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in coin, women and reputation.”

     

    Reidar then reached over and gave Kjeld’s backpack a rough tap. “Maybe they’ll even write a book about me.”

     

    Kjeld growled. He didn’t like this. “Enough, Reidar. Do you even know what a sellsword does? They’re just hired muscle for the man with the most coin. They’re no better than bandits, they just get into less trouble.”

     

    Why, All-Maker? Why did it have to be Teldryn Sero who had escorted old Fethis? First the letter, now Teldryn’s ‘true Nord’ nonsense—he knew it was only a matter of time before Reidar saw a chance and took it. Kjeld’s chest tightened. He’s going to get himself killed. It wasn’t a possibility, it was a guarantee.

     

    It was hard to convince his brother of his own inexperience, his unpreparedness. Reidar wouldn’t listen anyway; stubbornness didn’t run in this family, it galloped. But it wasn’t too late.

     

    Battling obstinacy with more obstinacy was like smashing two rocks together to clear a path, so he tried a more reasonable approach. Kjeld gritted his teeth until he could work up a tone that wasn’t cynical and harsh. “I thought you wanted to be First Hunter, anyway? Wulf doesn’t have any sons to carry on his legacy. He said you were sharp.”

     

    Reidar threw him a dark look.
    “I don’t want to carry on Wulf’s legacy. I want to carry on Da’s. You think that letter from Windhelm was a mistake? He was a great warrior, a hero! We should do right by him and try to be the same.”

     

    “You don’t know a damned thing about Da’s ‘legacy’.” Kjeld’s eyes flashed with darkness. His own outburst had surprised him, along with the tight grip on his backpack. The jarring sting in his shoulder wasn’t needed; he already knew that had been uncalled for. Kjeld walked faster, putting a safe distance between himself and his brother, trying to reign in his temper with calming thoughts. The sun was bright overhead, but he felt none of the usual warmth of its rays. The response he did give was gruff and low as reason grappled with emotion.

     

    “If Da’s legacy was something he wanted us to follow, he would’ve told us. Don’t try to make this about our father, we all know this is about you. It’s always about you.”

     

    Reidar snapped, stopping dead in his tracks.
    I’m making this about our father? You are so full of shit, Kjeld! At least I don’t go around pretending to be him.

     

    As if he’d been struck, Kjeld turned back to face his little brother, neck tensing; what the hell did that mean?

     

    “I am not pretending to be him.” His shoulder burned, and he felt the heat pool against his collar as he struggled to keep his aggression in check.

     

    Reidar glared, the ash shifting under his boots as he strode to meet him. “You do this every time anybody tries to do something you don’t like! You sulked for days when Helmi moved into Thirsk! And now you kick dirt in my eye when I swear I’m leaving Solstheim.” Reidar grabbed his arm tightly. “What was that argument with Frea about, then? She didn’t get your permission for something? Nobody put you in charge of this family, Kjeld. So stop acting like you get the final say.”

     

    Kjeld felt something in him threaten to break. “Don’t touch me.”

     

    Dry branches snapping and two new voices carried by the wind broke through the dark haze in Kjeld’s eyes, and he hastily wrenched his arm free of Reidar’s grasp, taking a few steps back. Pull yourself together. Not here. Not now. He didn’t look at his brother; for however long it took, he would close his eyes and pretend he didn’t exist.

     

    He was forced to open them as Morwen and Deor Woodcutter hurried out of the dessicated woods, their faces lit with surprise—and then relief—and then caution again, when they caught wind of the tension between the brothers. Morwen immediately went to Rakki, who was obviously the only one out of the three who didn’t look as if they’d swallowed fire ants.

     

    Deor’s presence carried with it the usual air of dislike whenever Reidar was around, and Kjeld heard his brother mutter under his breath.
    Oh great.

     

    Kjeld didn’t even bother glaring at him. Reidar could be as rude as he wanted to, why should he care? I’m not pretending to be our father. If anything, he was trying to be anyone but Leiv White-Paw; sometimes, though, it didn’t seem as though he had much choice.

     

    “Glad we bumped into you,” Said Morwen. “Have you seen Baldor?”

     

    “No,” said Kjeld tersely. The blacksmith had been out when they’d left for the trading post. “Why?”

     

    “Because he’s missing.” Said Deor. “And I think he might be in danger.”

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

Comments

15 Comments   |   Paws and 2 others like this.
  • SpookyBorn2021
    SpookyBorn2021   ·  August 14, 2017
    Hmm, sorry Fawn, can't think of anything to say here really other than bloody good chapter. Nope scratch that, I did really like Teldryn and the use of the Trader's Shack (don't remember the in-game name right now) and that whole section there. And I'm re...  more
    • SpottedFawn
      SpottedFawn
      SpookyBorn2021
      SpookyBorn2021
      SpookyBorn2021
      Hmm, sorry Fawn, can't think of anything to say here really other than bloody good chapter. Nope scratch that, I did really like Teldryn and the use of the Trader's Shack (don't remember the in-game name right now) and that whole section there. And I'm re...  more
        ·  August 15, 2017
      I am the same way, I like a good mystery but I won't try to solve it as I read. I prefer to comfortably watch it unfold. Thanks for reading!
  • Paws
    Paws   ·  July 23, 2017
    You're very good at creating tension, Fawn. Like the Frost Moon of the title, things are building to a head and change is in the air. For Reidar it is welcome, the guy needs it. Kjeld just needs to get laid, but it seems there are hoops he needs to jump t...  more
    • SpottedFawn
      SpottedFawn
      Paws
      Paws
      Paws
      You're very good at creating tension, Fawn. Like the Frost Moon of the title, things are building to a head and change is in the air. For Reidar it is welcome, the guy needs it. Kjeld just needs to get laid, but it seems there are hoops he needs to jump t...  more
        ·  July 23, 2017
      "Unput-downable" is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my writing. Thanks Phil! I'm actually in the process of tidying up the earliest chapters, so you've read the most recent one.

      I'll consider writing some Skaal lore. XD I...  more
  • SpottedFawn
    SpottedFawn   ·  January 22, 2016
    Thanks for reading, Exuro!
    Because I know what motivates and what frightens both of my protagonists, I can say that I am definitely divided when forced to choose I side. For Kjeld, he fears for Reidar's safety but isn't the best at expressing this ...  more
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  January 22, 2016
    I actually side with Reidar in this chapter. I don't understand people who have no curiosity for the vast expanses beyond our tiny day-to-day lives and are content to only preserve the status quo.
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 15, 2016
    I love me a good bad pun. My bad sex jokes are far worse. 
  • SpottedFawn
    SpottedFawn   ·  January 14, 2016
    Thanks for reading this, Lissette!  Hopefully that something doesn't pop any soon, or dare I say the situation will get a little... hairy? *boo'd offstage for bad puns*
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 14, 2016
    Blah,you sure know how to build up tension. I'm like tense with impatience and not in a bad way. But when that something decides to pop in your story, it'll pop big time and it will be pretty awesome. 
    Can't not like Teldryn too. He's one of my favorites. 
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 14, 2016
    I'll give this love, when I'm done with what I'm working on and when I have a break at work. This is perfect reading for that. I skimmed a bit and it looks like another great entry, so I'll just like it already and then comment more later. 
  • SpottedFawn
    SpottedFawn   ·  January 14, 2016
    Thanks for reading, Unhelpful!
    Thought it was important to show that Kjeld wasn't perfect, and that Reidar did occasionally have a fair point. Fortunately (for Reidar), Reidar is strong enough to take charge of his own destiny! Kjeld couldn't stop h...  more
  • The Wing
    The Wing   ·  January 14, 2016
    I love the brothers' contrasting perspectives of each other. I'm starting to feel sorry for Reidar. Older siblings kind of suck.  Sometimes I feel like my own brother and I were born in different generations - I guess Kjeld and Reidar must feel the same w...  more