Turning my obsessions into writing.
Danil spun around, lowering the wooden sword he was about to swing at Addvar’s head. Maybe Addvar hadn’t heard the guard’s cry, because he whacked Danil in the back with his own weapon.
“Ow, cut it out!” Danil said. “Didn’t you hear the queen is coming? And look, there’s Lydia. Hurry, or we’ll miss them!”
Deirdre couldn’t risk losing the crowd. Too many of her future plans were riding on the success of the appeal she was about to make.
Brelyna was sure J’zargo was going to say something crass about the pleasure two females could have together, or ask if she’d ever experienced such pleasures. Or worse, suggest the pleasure of two females would be all the greater with J’zargo’s company. She was formulating a biting response to any such remarks when J’zargo went down on one knee and grasped her hand.
“All right, I’ll talk,” the necromancer said through clenched teeth. “You were right. The Thalmor hired me. Murder a few citizens, mostly Nords, put the blame on the Khajiits. Stir up trouble, set the Nords against the minority.” He paused to wince. “Then of course kind-hearted Deirdre Morningsong would have to step in…”
Lydia could already feel the keen anticipation of battle coming on. It was going to be a tough fight, but she was more than ready for it, it had been so long. Every sense seemed heightened. She relished the creaking sound the leather straps of her armor made as she dismounted, the smell of sharpening oil that rose from her axe as she drew it from its scabbard. The sky was a piercing blue at this elevation, with just a few clouds here and there. She breathed in, and the air was sharp and sweet in her lungs. Every sensation felt exquisitely precious on a day that might be her last. Overhead, a hawk shrieked, and it was like the battle cry of her own soul.
Deirdre took a deep breath as the caravans and army wagons passed into the shade of the evergreen forest outside Riverwood, halfway to Helgen. The tangy scent of the pines and the sweet smell of jasmine and bluebells created a heady mix. She took another deep breath and could feel the tensions and cares of the past weeks slipping away.
“What I wouldn’t give for a mug of mead right about now,” said Erik.
“The same as every day, right about now,” replied Torsten. It was always the same sad song. More than an hour still to go on their watch, and Erik’s mead would start calling to him. Nordlings these days!
Lydia turned to J’zargo and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for every time I shouted ‘Skyrim is for the Nords,’ or even thought it. If I had known those words could lead to such inhumanity, I never would have uttered them.”
“It’s good to see you, lass!” Ralof, grinning broadly, wrapped Deirdre in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet. If any other Nord male had called Deirdre “lass,” it might have been the last “lass” he ever spoke, at least in the queen’s direction.
Bjorn looked at the body, the pitcher, and then the body again. After a moment, he said, “They wanted to make sure we knew a Khajiit did it.”
J’zargo gave a little purr. “Nord guard is smart, yes. And perhaps the Khajiit is only being used by someone else.”
Hilly, Family, and Scenic Bike Rides
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