User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 17

Previous Chapters
1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th

4th Era 100, 30th of First Seed, Summerset Isle
"Nice timing."

"I...I...I can't believe...I killed someone..." Curwe stepped away from the body, her eyes wide in fright.

Stepping around Markadil's body, Balasian took Curwe into his arms, being careful with his injured hand. "You saved my life. There is nothing to be ashamed of." He paused. "I thought I told you to stay outside?"

Looking up into his face, she thought she saw relief there, with some frustration. "I know you did. But I wanted to help. I couldn't let you go up against him by yourself." She sighed deeply, running her fingers along his jaw. "I came in and saw him...saw him pressing the poker against your throat and I just...I just stabbed him as hard as I could with the knife."

He had forgotten about his hand until he tried to hug her tighter. Gasping in pain, he withdrew.

Alarmed, she asked, "What? What is wrong?" before noticing one of his fingers sticking back too far.

Whimpering, Balasian ground out, "Its dislocated. Markadil--"

She gently took his hand in hers. "I know. Just...stay with me. I'll put it back in place."

Nodding fervently, he squeezed his eyes shut as she grasped his middle finger and sharply forced it back into position with a loud pop.

A sharp growl came from his clenched teeth. Taking back his hand, he tested it by waving his fingers. "Ohhh...ohh..." He sighed. "Brings me back to early this month, when you pulled that arrow from my side."

She smiled a little at the memory. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He smiled a little. "Well, now that you mention it, he did kick me in the leg. And before you say 'grow up,' the assassins from his organization wear steel-toed boots."

She gave him a scowl. "Always the joker." Bending down, she lifted his pant leg to see a deep and nasty looking bruise. Placing her glowing hand on it, she felt Balasian jerk slightly at the touch. Removing her hand, she saw that there was no longer any indication of an assault. Returning to a standing position, she stumbled over Markadil's leg. "Ugh."

His eyes strayed to the body. "Let's get rid of him. I'm not the type to keep trophies."

Nodding, and brushing away tears at how close she had been to losing her love, she took the assassin's feet while Balasian took the heavy half. Carrying him out of the house, they took him to the edge of the orchard, where the forest started. After some discussion, they agreed to bury him here, as it was easier, and less noticable. As Balasian took off Markadil's knapsack, Curwe came back with a shovel. "What are you going to do with that?" she asked, coming up.

"I figured I could take a look inside, see if there was any valuable information to be had."

"What would you do with it, if you found any?" she asked, leaning on the shovel.

"Prepare myself, in case there were any other assassins coming for my hide."

Fear gripped her. "You...do you think he came with others?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Markadil was Orgnum's best. Still, it never hurts to be prepared."

Gulping and nodding, Curwe went to a bare patch in the ground and started digging. Balasian, seemingly forgetting the knapsack, said, "I could do that."

Not stopping, Curwe continued to dig whilst replying, "No. Like you said, we're in this together, now. Your problems are now my problems."

"But there's no need--"

She stopped and looked up. "Yes, there is. I killed your assassin. I'm in this whole rebellion as much as you are, now." She paused, brushing an errant wisp of hair behind her ear. "Besides, didn't I tell you that I wanted no more disagreements?"

He thought back. Yes, the second day he knew her. He smirked. "All right. But I'm still going to help you lower his body into the grave. You can't possibly do that on your own."

"Deal."

Sitting next to the grave, he fished around in Markadil's pack. Nothing but hardtack crumbs, their wrappers, and a half empty flask. Not even a healing potion. "He sure thought he was going to win without any cuts or scrapes," Balasian thought to himself. Laying the pack next to him, he glanced over to the grave. Shovelfuls of dirt were being thrown out of the hole, so he got up and peered over the edge. He called down to Curwe, "I think that's deep enough. You aren't being graded on depth, you know."

She squinted up at him, shading her eyes with her hand. "It is deep enough, you think?"

"You are two feet below the surface, and you are an Altmer, who are taller than most other Elves and men. What do you think?"

A grimace. "Fine. I'm going to throw the shovel out." Turning, she heaved it over the other edge. Facing him again, she asked if he could help her out.

With a serious face, he stated, "No. I'm going to leave you in there."

Shock spread through her features, before forming into a scowl as he broke into a grin. "I'm kidding. Of course I'll help you out."

She grunted. "Very funny."

As he kneeled in the dirt at the edge, he steadied himself and reached down his hands. "I think you're going to have to jump a little, and scramble up the side."

She hopped in the dirt, catching his hands and with some difficulty, made it up the vertical side before splaying out on the surface. "Ugh." Rolling onto her knees, she righted herself and and said, "Let's get this over with."

His eyes straying to the body, he agreed. "I've looked at my old enemy for long enough."

Lifting the assassin's body, they hoisted him over the hole and dropped him in. There was no reason to respectfully lower him into the grave. Balasian retrieved the knapsack and threw it in, too. It could have been used for something else, but he didn't want the reminder of his assassin around all the time. Taking up the shovel, he said, "Someone's going to have to push the dirt in; there's only one shovel."

Curwe sighed, plopping herself down in the dirt at the edge. "I'll do that. I'm much dirtier than you."

He reacted like she had wanted him to: he cracked a grin. "I'll help you wash up," he offered, giving her a sidelong glance.

She felt her toes curl up in her shoes and her stomach do a funny dip. However, the current time and activities were not appropriate for such a thing. She looked at him from under her eyelids. "Not now."

His face regained its solemn appearance as he shoveled dirt into the hole. She smiled a little and further stated, "Maybe later."

Balasian glanced over, spying her peering at him mischeviously, pushing in dirt. He grinned anew. This part of his life was still good. Even if he lost his followers in Pyandonea, as much as that would pain him, as long as he had Curwe, life was still worth living.