User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 3

4th Era 100, 7th of First Seed, Summerset Isle
Looking into her cupboard, she saw the contents: five carrots, three potatoes, a sack with a spoonful of salt at the bottom, and a half empty jar of milk. "I guess this is all I have to work with," she thought dismally. Knowing he was hungry, she hurried to the front of the house and out the door, getting water from the stream that gurgled past. Hurrying back in, she hung the pot over the oven and cut up the vegetables and placed them into the pot, along with the milk and salt and let it cook.

Stirring the contents, she mused about what had just happened, and the new visitor. What made Balasian different from other Sea Elves? Why had he been attacked and driven from his homeland? When the stew had done, she got the iron heating pad from the cupboard and set the pot on the pad to cool, and went into the living room to summon Balasian.

Leaning in the doorway, she saw he was carefully examining the bric-a-brac on the fireplace mantle. "I made those when I was younger," motioning to one of the small statues he held in his hands. Looking up, he placed it back on the mantle.

"You wanted to become a sculptor?" he inquired.

"Nah, it was just a hobby. Father brought some clay back from Firsthold once when I was a child, and instead of making bowls, like he wanted me to, I made statues and other decorative things."

"Bowls for what?"

Coming further into the room to the fireplace, Curwe gazed at the statues. "Bowls for eating. We didn't have any then, just oyster shells of the same general size. But they were curved on the bottom, so you had to be careful with things like soups. Later on, father had bought real utensils, bowls, and plates."

"In Pyandonea, nearly everything is fashioned from sea shells. Weapons, armor, even ships."

Remembering when an oyster clamped down on her finger, she furrowed her brow and hesitantly asked, "Surely there aren't oysters that size, are there?"

He chuckled. "No. Its shell pieces held together with a special glue." His nostrils flared as he caught the aroma of the stew in the next room. He looked down at her again. "The soup is done?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes. That's what I came in here to tell you."

Seating himself at the table, he scrutinized the bowls Curwe was ladling the soup into.

"What kind of bowls are these? They appear to be gold, but also have a coppery cast."

She was surprised. "You've never seen Dwemer artifacts before?"

"No. The Sea Elves never bothered much with Dwemer of mainland Tamriel. Or any of the Elves other than Altmer, really."

Sitting down at the table, she told him what she knew about the Dwemer, which wasn't much, just what the Nord treasure seeker had told her father. "There's whole markets dedicated to selling the artifacts, mostly over in Cyrodiil, though also in Skyrim."

Balasian remarked, "They must fetch high prices, since the Dwemer are 'lost' to history."

Blowing on the soup to cool it, she paused and said, "Yes. Some collectors will pay thousands for one original sword or battle axe. Machines go for even more."

He looked at her quizically. "Then how did your father afford buying these?" sweeping his hand over the bowls.

Curwe smiled. "My father got down the price by offering a satchel of pearls. The pearls that are harvested here are different than those that are grown in colder climates, like that of Skyrim. The Nord who sold him the bowls had never seen that color of pearl before, and so my father ended up with a bargain deal."

Smirking, Balasian stated, "Good thing you used that clay for what it wasn't meant for."

They both laughed.

Staring down at her bowl, Curwe though of how to ask him how he got here. Looking back up, she saw he was looking at her. "You want to know how I got here."

"I didn't realize I was being so obvious. I have not even said anything yet."

He smiled a little. "Its written quite clearly on your face. I can tell you some of it, but I'm quite tired. It's been a while since I've slept."

Puzzled, she asked, "How long?"

"Two days."

Frowning, she asked why so long. He replied, "Because, although we are called Sea Elves, we cannot breathe water like fish. To go to sleep while swimming would be a very bad idea."

Embarrassed, she merely nodded.

While he ate the rest of his meal, he told her a little of his histoy leading up to his meeting with her. "So," he said, as he set down the spoon into the bowl, "I was to be King Orgnum's next translator, as the last translator died in battle. However, I had let it be known that I did not agree with what Orgnum and his cabinet beleived in. I had told him, 'How many lives have been lost, on both sides, because of these old hatreds? Why not befriend them instead, start anew? None of the old Aldmer of the Merithic Era are even alive today, except for you.'" Balasian sighed and rubbed his eyelids with his fingertips. "Well, you can see how that worked out. I was labeled a traitor and sentenced to die in the public square, but I was able to elude the King's Guard and my assassins and steal a boat from the harbor, but as I was adjusting the rigging, one of the King's archers got me and I fell from the boat. I managed to evade the archers and kill a Harbor Guard for his steed--"

Curwe interrupted, "There are horses there?"

"No. There is a type of sea serpent that we train to be used in the same capacity."

She nodded in understanding, and he continued.

"Well, I killed one of the Harbor Guardsmen for his steed, but only got halfway to Summerset when the beast bucked and I fell into the water. The archers and footsoldiers must have found the dead Guardsmen and reported it to the King, who has the uncanny ability to control the steeds from a distance, an ability that the rest of us lack." He paused. "I had only spells, as I had no weapons, those taken from me when my sentence was to be pronounced. Anyway, I had to use ice spikes to stab it to death, which was not easy, as the hides of the beasts are legendary for being able to deflect arrows."

"So, you were stranded out in the ocean?"

"Yes. I was too tired from the wound and from swimming, so I just left it to the tide to drop me off where it would. I'm really lucky I ended up on your beach, rather than right next door to a Thalmor outpost."

They laughed. Getting up and gathering the bowls, Curwe stacked them neatly by the front door, so she could wash them later. Leaning back in his chair, Balasian breathed a deep sigh and folded his hands behind his head. "You cook well."

"Thanks. Though I'm not sure if you really mean that, since you were starving in the first place."

"I do. However, why wasn't there any meat in the soup? There is plenty of it swimming and crawling around."

Looking sharply up from the pot, she asked, "Do you have a problem with it?"

"No, not at all. It was just an innocent question."

Pausing, she weighted if she should tell him or not. "What harm is there in telling him?" she thought. She cleared her throat. "Well, I, uh...I don't eat meat."

"Why not?"

"When I was growing up, I had no friends, so I would befriend the creatures of the beach, such as the gulls. But every so often, my mother would catch one and cook it for a meal, and it always broke my heart. So, after a few years, I could not stand it any longer, so I gave up eating meat."

A tiny spark of understanding lit his eyes. He nodded slowly. "I can see the reasoning behind that." As he got up from the table, he yawned and stretched, and asked if there were any bedrolls he could borrow.

"I can do you one better," Curwe said, smiling. "You can stay in my old room. Its still got a bed and blankets, but there's nothing else in the room, I'm afraid."

"That's more than enough," he said as he stiffled another yawn. "Can you show me the way?"

"Sure can. Follow me."

The door creaked on its hinges as it opened inward. Other than a thin layer of dust, it was just as she had left it, so long ago. Turning to face him, she asked if there was anything else he needed.

"No," he replied. "This is already so much. You've been very kind to me." To her intense displeasure, she found herself blushing again. "Oh, well...good night."

Sliping past her into the room from the hall, Balasian laid his hand on the edge of the door and smiled down at her. "Good night," he replied, closing the door as she walked away. Turning around to face the room, he took a cursory look around. Judging by the moonlight coming from the one window, the room was indeed empty. Padding to the bed, he tested its construction by gently trying to wobble its frame. It was sturdy. Sitting down on the bed, he took off his boots, his one remaining possession from Pyandonea. Lying down, he was asleep in seconds, his last thoughts before sleep took him were of his homeland that he would never see again, and the kindnesses of a lonely lady on a remote beach.