User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 27

Previous Chapters
1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th

4th Era 110, 13th of Sun's Height, Summerset Isles
Not wanting to be caught near the potions (much less with her hand on them), she quickly but quietly ran into the adjoining mud room, pretending to tend to the coats and cloaks hung on the walls. She filled her arms with the outer garments and was exiting the room when she saw two soldiers wearing Elven armor carefully placing the goods from the table into a chest. One of them, a green-eyed man, glanced up at the sound of her footsteps. He asked, "Ma'am?"

Curwe stopped with with her armfull of clothing. "Yes?" She hoped her internal battle to keep a straight face didn't show.

"Your payment has been left with your lawyer, outside."

Although she knew that the Dominion did not tolerate criminals, she felt uneasy with her money being left with the lawyer, who had stayed outside on the porch. Someone could mug him...or he could be less than civil and abscond with it...or...

"If you don't mind, sir, I would prefer you gave it to me personally."

The soldier stared at her a moment before inclining his head. "As you wish, madam."

He helped the other soldier carry out the chest before returning a short time later with the pouch of gold. Handing it to her, he said, "Here you are, my lady."

She took it with her free hand, thanking him.

The soldier bowed slightly. "Good day, madam," and turned and shut the door behind him.

Knees almost buckling, Curwe heaved a sigh of relief. Hefting the bundle of coats onto the now free table, she spied the grey cloak that Eldacar had worn during his last visit to her place a year ago. Leaning on the tabletop, her knees almost collapsed again, though this time due to...what? Sorrow? She had never...she had thought of him as a casual friend, nothing serious, nothing to warant what she now felt welling up inside her chest. Perhaps it was just that someone so familiar had passed away. He was the last part of her old life before she had met Balasian, starting a new path in her lifetime. She shook her head. No time to dwell on all these things. There was still most of the house to clean, sort, and decide what to keep and what to sell. As she extricated her arm from the pile of garments, she breathed deeply and moved to Eldacar's bedroom.

* * *

Cleaning soot off bricks and mortar without the aid of soap was harder than he thought. There were more than a few times he wanted to yell and scream at the oven in frustration. Not that the bricks would care: they were inanimate, lifeless objects. No use pummeling them, either: you'd either break something or hurt yourself. The only refuge he could think of was a hot bath and long soak after he was done. He needed it, too. His hair was no longer white, but rather grey - leaning towards black - from soot and ash, his body had enough dark smudges that he could pose as a pale Dunmer if he wanted to, and his arms ached. It was well worth it, though. The fireplace in the living room appeared like a mason had just installed it, it was so clean.

As he sat and caught his breath, he ticked off on his fingers things done and left to do. Ony half of the oven, the kitchen, their bedroom, and the outside of the house were left. Rolling his neck and shoulders, Balasian reflected that keeping busy made him feel less lonely. He still felt Curwe's absence, but it was less...pronounced if he kept his mind elsewhere. Kneeling on the floor once more (and a grunt or two at his sore knees) he took up the scrub brush and got back to work. As he scoured the oven's exterior, he smiled at the (imagined) look on her face when she stepped in the door and saw his handiwork.

* * *

There were less useful things in the bedroom than she thought there would be. Also, she couldn't quite shake off the feeling that she was intruding. That going through his closets and dressers was against all laws of civility. This was...his life. 400 years of accomplishments and failures all boiled down to some trinkets and alchemy supplies. She wondered absently how differently this would have turned out if her mother had married Eldacar all those years ago. She might have been more familiar with Firsthold. She might have not lived where she did now. She would have been...his daughter. Eldacar would have...

No...no. Curwe shook her head, clearing out the troubling thoughts. Times and events happened the way they did. No good can come from guilty, remorseful "what ifs" and "might haves." Her eyes burned as she thought about Balasian and how much she missed him, being here amongst strangers and Thalmor agents. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat as she forced herself to begin to sort Eldacar's belongings into "keep" and "sell" piles. Sitting here and moping would just keep her away from him. Just get this done with so she could go home and into his soft, strong arms.