Character Backstory: Elara's Journeys in Skyrim, the land of her father, Chapter 11--Aftershock

  •                    Onmund stared into the fire, exhausted and numb from the battle.  He had fought wolf packs and gone hunting in his youth, but he never had such a close brush with death.   

                      She could have died because of him, and that stupid slick snow.  He felt the anger at himself starting to boil.  Yet he was surprised at the fury he unleashed on the ax-man as he made for a second blow at Elara.  He was not aware that he had such ferocity underneath his calm exterior.  The thought occurred to him that the pain of his life had been buried and then his rage did not seem such a surprise after all.  It was something all of a sudden he did not like about himself, but if he was to continue with Elara, he would have to find a way to live with this stranger who reared his fierce head in battle.

                      Elara.  He looked at her wading in the water, poking with her sword at floating boxes to find the clue she needed.   He had tried to shoot the bandit leader, but dammit, she was in front of him the whole time.  He did not want her to kill herself trying to protect him when he was fool enough to get hurt.  Then there was the healing.  Colette at the college had a sterile feel when she cast her healing spells, but they got the job done.  The small amount of healing that he had practiced worked as well.  But as Elara cast her healing spell, he felt the warmth and sweetness of mead, the scent of freshly baked sweet rolls, and a lightness that tingled throughout his body.  He felt ridiculous for thinking it, but he almost felt lifted off the ground.  He wished he could talk to Tolfdir about it, because it reminded him of the first day they met and the fabulous ward she created.  It was not magic he was familiar with and it confused him.  By Julianos, he hated mysteries.

                       He glanced up to find Elara, but could not see her.  She probably went onto the wreckage itself, but his instincts told him to be alert.  He stood up and saw her peek out from the shipwreck, smiling and waving a journal.  Onmund caught a slight movement of white beyond Elara, and realized that it was a snow bear.  Without thinking, he mustered all the energy he could and blasted it towards the bear.  The bear was raised on its hind legs, ready to submerge Elara, when Onmund’s bolt toppled it backward.  It slid into the water, propelled by the magic of Onmund’s spell.  Elara’s face said it all.  She had not heard the bear behind her.  She scurried over to Onmund.  “I found what I needed,” she said breathlessly.  She glanced back at where the bear rolled into the water.  “Maybe we are pushing our luck with this place.”  She looked at him expectantly.  He knew she had given him time and space to figure things out, and the softness in her eyes told him that she would not blame him for turning around and going back to Winterhold.

                     Tolfdir was right.  Skyrim was a dangerous place, but he was not going to hide out in the college whilst others fought to make it a safer place.  He pulled on the iron plate armor and Elara adjusted it for him.

                    “You know me when I have a belly full of food and mead.”  Onmund smiled widely.

                    “You are ready for a nap?” inquired Elara innocently.  “No inn for miles, I am afraid.” 

                    He started back up the hill towards their original direction, shaking his head.  “This is the grief I get for saving your life from that ferocious snow bear?”

                    “Saving me?  What about…?” and their voices drifted away in the wind as they mock argued for the next half hour, secretly glad to be in each other’s company.


1 Comment
  • Guy Corbett
    Guy Corbett   ·  February 9, 2012
    Your descriptions of the magic energies is one of my favorite aspects of your writing. I love that you have created this unique feel to each mage individual to them. I always just want more when I read your posts.