Reinhardt
~ ~ ~
War is a beast that thirsts for blood and drinks till it’s satisfied. An old soldier who fought in the Great War once told me that.
The scene before us spoke of a great battle. Corpses speckled the grassy field like pox blisters. It was the aftermath of a skirmish, and it was clear which side had won. There were more bodies dressed in Imperial red than Stormcloak blue. Men and women were left to rot in the sun, their valuables pilfered. I’d wager the battle must have ended barely the day before. Scents of death and decay were fresh on the wind.
“How horrible… I never even imagined...”
Falura surveyed the valley of the dead. I rode my horse up beside hers.
“Don’t get squeamish now,” I said with a smile. “We’re in The Pale, bordering Hjaalmarch. The two holds are warring out here. There’s plenty more where this came from.”
“You make it sound blasé,” she replied. “How does this battlefield not move you? You don’t see the cruel waste of life?”
“See now, that’s the wrong way of looking at it. This isn’t cruelty. It’s war. The season unending. These men and women are walking in Shor’s Hall as we speak. We should be envying them.”
Falura shook her head. “I could never envy this.”
I shrugged. She wouldn’t understand. The elf was set in her elf ways.
Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas lead our trot around the valley. No time to stop and take in the scenery; the dead would have to bury their own. We had a date with a dragon.
“You know, I’m surprised none of you are out fighting in this war,” I remarked as we rode on.
“You’re not the only one,” Aela said. “I worry that a bunch of snowberries are out there earning glory while we stay out of it.”
“If there’s even glory to be found,” Vilkas retorted before glancing back at me. “Kodlak tells us not to worry about it. We follow his lead.”
“You don’t see a reason to fight?” I asked.
“There are always reasons to fight,” he said, “I just wish this war had good ones. Who cares who worships what dead god? Give me something to make me draw my sword!”
I shifted in my saddle. “How about you, Farkas? What’s your take on the war?”
He grunted in reply. “Too confusing for me.”
Falura rode up on my left. Our horses stepped together at the same pace, trampling the dry grass and dusty ground beneath us. My eyes squinted in the bright sunlight.
“The others have spoken their peace,” she said to me with anticipation.
“Ah, my turn is it?” A smug grin rose on my face. “I gave joining the war some thought. I was in Cyrodiil when it started. That was… hmm… Hey, how many months ago was it?”
The others didn’t reply. I stopped grinning and licked my dry lips, brushing the whiskers of my moustache.
“Right, well… I thought about joining. Ulfric’s cause seemed well intended. My family was no friend of the Empire and neither am I. The Imperials have made us weak with their coddled kings and fat coin purses.”
“A nation should have more than might and strength alone,” Falura injected.
“We’re the fiercest warriors in Tamriel! Strength is our birthright! The land of the Nords should always be strong.” I shook my head. “Ah, but spilling the blood of our brothers and sisters? How does that make Skyrim stronger? I just can’t see it. That’s the only thing holding me back.”
“There’s an old saying: a house divided cannot stand,” Falura said said with a smile. “You would rather see Skyrim united than broken apart.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, scratching my beard.
“Is that some kind of Dunmer proverb?” Vilkas spoke up. “Your great houses aren’t united. They’re separated by their philosophies. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“This is a civil war. A clash of philosophies. Tell me, have your houses ever warred with each other?”
The mage turned to look at the field of bodies, thoughtful. She quickly withdrew her gaze and stared at reign in her hands.
“I suppose not every division can be reconciled,” she replied quietly.
“It is what it is,” I said to her, thinking of something my uncle once told me. “All we can do is live well and hope that our next of kin will learn from our mistakes.”
Falura made a face. “Live well? In Skyrim? Between the war, the hospitable natives, and the dragons…”
I grinned again. “Aw, give it some time! You’ll get used to things around here.”
~ooooo~
The whole world suddenly spun on its side – the sky, the evening sun, the distant mountains. I fell on my back in the dirt and coughed. Tall grass narrowed my cone of vision. Before I could come to my feet, a greatsword was poised at my throat. I gaped at it angrily. Vilkas stared down at me, gripping the weapon’s hilt. The veteran Companion had me at his mercy. He rolled his eyes.
“What was it you said? ‘Third time’s the charm?’ I was hoping you’d be a better training partner than this,” he scoffed. The man withdrew his weapon.
“Training!?” I grunted, pushing my limbs to prop up my body. “Augh, this is… trouncing, not training! The only thing I’m learning is how to get knocked around! How ‘bout you actually teach me something useful?”
“This is exactly how I’m supposed to teach you,” Vilkas retorted. “Your job is to observe and gain knowledge with each battle. Outsmart yourself.”
I brushed the dust off my arms and legs. “It still too much to ask for some practical advice?”
The man stood with his weapon at rest, tip pressed into the ground, both hands on the pommel. Frogs were croaking noisily in a nearby pond.
“Alright then,” he said. “Start by doing something about those two left feet of yours.”
I spat a fat glob of saliva on the ground. “I said practical, you prick.”
“I mean it. You favor the greatsword? That means your lower body has to compensate for the weight your upper body swings around. Footwork is the key to balance. Your stances start off strong, but they get sloppier the longer you fight. It’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t be able to knock you over this easily. You need to keep your feet positioned for balance and stability at all times.”
The man was smug but I’ll be damned if he wasn’t bright. Vilkas… a renowned member of the Circle, the Companions’ elite, standing alongside the likes of Kodlak Whitemane himself. He looked like he was in his early twenties. That made me his senior by almost a decade. I felt a soreness in my bones.
I felt old.
“Huh… Well there you go,” I huffed, bending down on my knees. “Helpful advice. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Vilkas plucked his sword out of the ground and turned to leave.
“Going somewhere?” I called out.
“Aren’t we done?” he replied.
“I got one more left in me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I raised my weapon to fight. “You talk about learning, right? Then let’s learn some more. Come on! I got catching up to do.”
Vilkas met my stare. I couldn’t match the skill of these youngster Companions, but I still had a fire left in me. On the day I got my first sword, that man would’ve been soiling his drawers. I wasn’t old. I was in my prime. And I had to prove it.
The man shook his head and stepped forward, raising his weapon.
“Last time. Your move,” he said.
I smirked. “Middle age before beauty, eh?”
“Are you two quite finished?” Falura suddenly snapped.
We both whipped to our right. The mage stood with her staff held upright and a fist on her hip, her presence lording over us like a mother hen. My arms went limp.
“Is, uh… Is there a problem?” I asked.
“I hired you to help me battle a dragon, not each other,” she badgered. “I can’t have anyone getting injured before the fight has even begun! Please! Try to contain yourselves until then, would you?”
Annoying? Yes. It was her call to make, though. She was the patron for our trip. Vilkas and I sheathed our swords.
“Apologies,” he said.
“Just a bit of freeplay,” I grumbled. “No harm, no foul.”
Falura walked away with her three-legged walk. Insects started chirping. Vilkas and I exchanged looks.
“Next time,” I sneered.
“We’ll see,” he replied.
Dinner was coming up right quick, our last decent meal before the day of the big hunt. We rejoined at camp a while later and sat down around the fire to eat. All except for Aela. She said she had some business to take care of. Our meal consisted of a thick vegetable stew and baked bread. Falura took the liberty of making it, though I think I could have cooked something more flavorful.
I’ll have to make us a real meal after we’ve killed that dragon, I thought.
While I was eating, an annoying trill kept ringing in my ears. It was coming from behind some bushes. I set my bowl down on the ground.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
The valley around us was wide and rugged, sloping up to mountains that stood against the faintly starry sky. I followed the sound and discovered a three-leaved plant glowing beside a small basin of water. I yanked it up by its stem. The trilling stopped. Satisfied, I brought it back to the campsite and sat back down on the ground.
“Hate these damn things,” I muttered, tossing the plant into the fire.
“Me too,” Farkas added. “Thanks for that.”
“You didn’t have to throw it in the fire,” Falura said, resting her bowl on her lap. “That was a Nirnroot. They’re actually quite rare.”
“Rare as in they’re worth something?” I asked concernedly.
“Not really, but I know an alchemist couple back in Morrowind who would balk at the sight of a sample being wasted like that.”
I scooped up my bowl, dunking a piece of bread in the stew. “I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.”
“You would if you knew what that root could do,” Falura said with a challenging smile.
“If I did, then I would. But I don’t.” I took a noisy slurp of broth. “So I won’t.”
The mage set her food aside and leaned forward, folding her hands on her lap. “What if I told you the root could protect you from magic? Or make you invisible?”
“That depends,” I said. “Is this before or after you’ve had your skooma trip?”
“I’m being candid. Those are the tertiary and quaternary essences of Nirnroot.”
“The what now?”
Falura sat upright. “All alchemical ingredients possess no more than four distinct magical essences. Some scholars believe they’re the residual effects of a life form’s connection to Aetherius. There’s not a single organic material on the face of Nirn that cannot be broken down into an essence.”
I raised a hand. “Okay, but how does a plant make you invisible?”
The mage stared into the fire. “I couldn’t tell you. It’s the same mystery with modern spells. Magicka manifests itself in very specific ways. These manifestations are the baseline for all arcane study, which we categorize into the five schools of magic. ”
The mage looked up. Vilkas was staring at Falura warily and Farkas was brooding. I got the feeling those two weren’t keen on our patron’s lecture. She started twisting a golden sapphire ring on her middle finger. There were strange markings all over it that seemed to shine brighter than the metal. They almost looked like they were glowing, though it could have been the fire’s reflection.
Falura gently spoke. “I sense that you care little for this conversation…”
“We don’t deal with matters of magic,” Vilkas said flatly. There was a much more bitter opinion buried in those words. Falura had strong opinions of her own, though.
“Don’t criticize what you don’t understand,” she cautioned, holding herself back. “Magic is a boon to civilization. It has enriched the lives of many.”
“It’s also dangerous. That’s not hard to understand.”
She resumed staring at the fire. “Well, feel free to be content with that. I’ll speak no more.”
“You know, you’re pretty good at explaining things,” I inserted cheerfully, stretching my arms with a long drawn out grunt. “I actually followed you for a little bit there.”
Falura glanced at me. “Thank you, Reinhardt. I’m glad at least someone appreciates the subject matter.”
“Appreciates? Woah there, I wouldn’t go that far,” I chuckled. “I’m afraid when it comes to magic, I don’t have a whit of wit.”
Falura contained a small fit of laughter. It had a gentle, almost musical sound.
“A whit of wit,” she repeated, grinning thoughtlessly. “I must remember that one.”
In the company of those two stick-in-the-mud brothers, Falura saw me as a land sighting at sea. A smile snuck up on my face. I was starting to like that elf. Never had the chance to know any personally; she seemed a nice sort, even if she was a bit motherly.
“Finally decided to join us?” Vilkas said with a grin. I followed his eyes. Aela appeared and sat down with the others. Her auburn hair glowed softly in the firelight. I was once again overcome by the sight of her face. A man can kiss his sensible thoughts goodbye whenever a beautiful woman appears before his eyes.
“Plenty of food left,” I offered, trying to seem hospitable. “Of all the nights to go hungry, this isn’t one of them.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking a bowl for herself.
With everyone gathered we went on to discuss more of our plans for dealing with the dragon. Arrows could whittle it down, but we’d need a lot of them to kill it. The Dragonborn had the right idea – cripple the wings and the rest becomes easier. Falura was convinced if we fought in a place with flat open space it would try to land and attack us on the ground. That’d be our cue to do as much damage to the wings as we could. She said she could use fire magic to keep it from feeling too safe in flight. All the while we’d keep our distance from each other and force the dragon to pick a target while the others attacked. It’d be just like Farkas and I fighting the giant.
I was disappointed we had no sure-fire way to hit the dragon hard. Light strikes were the most we’d be able to manage. The other Companions didn’t seem too worried, though. They were very confident we would win. I had no idea why, but their confidence gave me confidence too.
When the time came for sleep, we put out our fire and went to our cots. Aela, however, pulled me aside.
“Reinhardt,” she said. “I need to speak with you in private.”
“What’s that?” I raised an eyebrow. “A private conversation, eh?”
Her glare was steady. “Just come with me.”
I followed Aela to a grove of pine trees near the water basin where Vilkas and I had been fighting. Mudcrabs were asleep in the muck, their shells almost impossible to tell apart from rocks. A cold breeze blew by from the mountains and rustled through the grass. The smell of pine sap mingled with the aftertaste of stew.
“Okay. We’re alone,” I said as Aela slowed her walk. “So what’s going through that mind of yours…?”
“Where did you get that ring?” she turned around and asked.
I froze. “Ring? What ring?”
“Don’t be coy. The one on your finger.”
I held up my hand and pointed at the silver band with a wolf head on it.
“O-o-oh… This ring? Ah, this old thing’s a family heirloom,” I lied. “My kin’s had it for generations. Just a trinket with some personal value.”
“Where did your family get it?”
“I, uh, don’t know. I never asked.”
Aela put her hands on her hip. “You should have. I wondered how a hot head like you could find the Ring of Hircine.”
I grimaced. “You… know what it is? Ah, damn…”
“Yes I know what it is,” she said, “and I’m guessing so do you.”
“More or less.”
“Can you use it?”
I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but the way she asked the question seemed very serious. I think she knew something about the ring that I didn’t.
“Use it? What are you talking about?” I threw up my arms. “I can’t do anything with it! It’s cursed!”
“Cursed?”
“See for yourself!” I tried to pull the ring from my finger. “It’s stuck! I can’t take it off!”
Aela stared at me like she’d just heard a bad joke.
“Ever get your hand stuck in a jar?” she asked embarrassingly. “Perhaps you’re confusing curse with stupidity.”
“Oh now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings,” I said, faking pain in my chest. “Come on, what do you take me for?”
“I won’t break it to you gently.”
“It was bigger when I put it on,” I insisted, making gestures for emphasis. “The ring shrank. Listen, the last man who wore it was… a werewolf. He’s the one who said it was cursed, made his transformations uncontrollable. I swear that’s the truth.”
Her stare became even sterner. “I haven’t seen you transform.”
“I’m not a werewolf. The ring doesn’t do anything to me, so…”
Aela relaxed. “So that’s why he gave it to you. This was someone you knew. Family, right?”
I scratched my beard. “Yeah... My cousin. He’s in jail for… murder.”
“And you thought putting on the ring was a good idea.”
“How was I supposed to know the thing would shrink? Rings don’t usually do that.”
The woman glanced at the ring, unable to hide her disappointment.
“Whether or not it’s cursed, you don’t realize how powerful that ring really is,” she said. “I hate to see it wasted on a hot head like you.”
My eyebrows drew low.
“I don’t see you offering to help me get rid of it.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
I blinked.
“Oh. Well why didn’t you just say so? You got something in mind?”
Aela walked a few paces, thinking.
“I’ve never heard of the ring being cursed,” she said, “but Hircine is the only one who could curse it. Which means we need to find a way to appease him.”
Sinding mentioned something about doing that when he gave me the ring. The mere mention of the idea, though, made me more than a little uncomfortable.
“We’re going to appease a Daedra? Apologies for asking, but… how?”
Aela leaned to the side. “This isn’t something we can deal with right now. It’ll have to wait until we’re back in Jorrvaskr. We’ll look for answers then. Think you can handle wearing that ring for another week?”
I shrugged. “A few minutes ago I assumed I’d be buried with it.”
“Good. Don’t worry. If the dragon kills you, I’ll make sure that ring gets left in the right hands.”
“I hope he eats it, then. That oughta give you a fun evening.”
The woman laughed a single laugh and turned to leave. She’s one to keep alright, I thought to myself, admiring her southern regions. There was one thing I wanted to know, though…
“Say,” I called out, “what’s your interest in all this Hircine business?”
Aela kept walking. “Be patient,” she said. “You might find out sooner than you think.”
I wandered back to camp, staring up at old Masser sitting high in the sky. Its crescent was barely a sliver but still brighter than any star. My thoughts had returned to Falkreath and Sinding.
And werewolves.
It’d be the first time in days I dreamt about something other than dragons in my sleep.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Falura’s mentioning of the theory behind ingredient essences was, of course, my doing. At this point I’m coming up with my own internal system behind Nirn’s magic, mostly in an attempt to make things seem less video-gamey.
Table of Contents
Previous ~*~ Following
Leave a 'like' if you've enjoyed reading!
Comments