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Story Below:
I try not to let her see it. My eyes turn skywards or to the toe of my boots, my mind like this smoke, curled and twisted. The pipe and thoughts of last night do well to ease it, but it is a fleeting thing. I like to think it normal to be this nervous, that I am not losing my mind. The fingers fiddle with belt loops or jingle keys maddeningly, tightening about the axe shaft until the leather wears thin. It is like that. A certain mood just hangs overhead and will not part, the thought of monsters in the dark, the Berne and those yet to show themselves, and the ever-present chime of coming temple-bells. I hear it in the ambience, be it in the blacksmith's hammer or call of crows at dusk. Beneath the chime and quick to overtake it, a bellowing thunder and the steady winding of clocks, the turn of gears and the roaring engines of the deep. That thing on the peak reminded me of those times long passed. The sounds it made and the way it moved in the end. Those days are like a fever dream, but what we fought was no dream. Or maybe it was. Sometimes it feels as though I am still down there doing the work. Perhaps this life is the dream. No.
Yesterday, our carriage ride came to an end and we set about town. I booked a room at the Bannered Mare to rest and collect our thoughts. I thought it best to start fresh on the morrow, affording us some time to find Gili more fitting attire above all else. If Mother saw her like that, "A blouse cut that low will be the death of us both" I jested, taking her hand into mine. Surely she would find something more conservative in that luggage of hers, but that would have to wait, the night was ours. With sunrise, I left her to her devices, thinking to take in some morning air and find a quiet place for a smoke. So it was for an hour, perhaps a bit more, just I and my thoughts, my thoughts and I. What a terrible combination. Thankfully Gili's visage soon parted the smoke to my left. "Apologies for the wait." She said, stepping out into the sunlight. Mortified and jaw agape, my pipe clattered to the cobbled ground.
"I thought you were going to cover up?"
Before me stood Gili, clad in tight black trousers and a loose black sweater, cut to leave little to the imagination. "Be glad that I opted not to just go in the nude. I had debated as much, I'll have you know! If she'll not have me based on my clothes, then perhaps it is not to be? No. It will be fine." She giggled to herself, locking her golden gaze with mine. "And if not, we'll go together, you said as much yourself."
And so we began the dreaded march down the road toward the Snakestone homeplace in silence. Gili was in high spirits, often turning to give reassuring glances and enthused smiles. The fifteen minute walk felt like hours, the final eight steps, like years.
"Just be yourself, I suppose" With those words, we disappeared beneath the awning. I extended an unsteady hand, inching closer and closer to the door handle. Taking it into my grasp, I turned to Gili to find her with a finger held high and about to speak. "It will be fine." I took her hand, and pushed forward. The door squealed on hinges long since oiled, bringing to mind the door to the Berne's hiding place, but the aroma of homecooked food lashed at my nostrils most pleasurably. Inside stood two little Dunmer, one far more little than the other, grinning ear to ear. My Mother in a red corseted dress, and hair tied in the front as is the fashion since Cuo departed and Fannah, to her right and clasped about her waist, wore one of her light travel skirts.
As we stepped through the threshold, Mother looked up at me, eyes welling with joy. Freeing herself from Fannah, she rose to her tiptoes and into a loving embrace, whispering "Welcome home." into the leather of my vest. Holding me as though she had no intent to let go, Mother and Sister vied for control of my waist until Fannah at least seized control. She likewise looked upon me like she had that day I crawled out from the deep. It had been a good long while. Satisfied, they broke off and stepped back, taking notice of the figure behind me. "It is so good to see you again, and to meet you, Fannah." A voice called out from my back. Gili brushed past and curtsied in such a way as to emphasize her outfit or lack thereof. Mother's gaze shifted from Gili's golden eyes, down to her boots then back up to her distracting cleavage. Tiny auburn brows furled, teeth gnashed, and a unanimous inaudible hiss erupted from the pair. Gili proceeded to embrace them, one after the other, leaving them stunned.
"Pleased to meet you, Gili." Mother choked out with more than a degree of malice. She continued, "Again, you say?"
"Briefly, you attended one of my Father's balls when I was but a young girl. My father is one Tunenil Elakiit, lord of a keep and mines some ways to the East of here. He tended to invite mercenaries and the like to his events, it was his favored manner of making connections in the world. My Mother was court wizard at the time and since her unfortunate passing, I have followed in her shoes much like Fanar has followed in those of his Father. We have been through much, he and I. You've raised a fearless man." Her words prompted a scoff from Fannah. Gili glanced over at me before continuing. "Our meeting was the result of one such invitation, though I had heard tale of a many of his exploits long before ever laying eyes upon him."
Mother toyed with the brass bands below her chin, turning each one in turn, seemingly combing through the years before at last placing her finger on it. "A masquerade ball, I can see it now. Snake and I in matched-silk, flecked with gold. A bronze face for he and a beaked porcelain for I. Your Mother in a fine yellow, veiled and masked, gave us a tour of the grounds before the ball began proper. By it's end, all masks were off and we caught a rather brief glance at the three of you. Quite the resemblance, as I recall."
"You are a court wizard too then? A mage?" probed Fannah, bring her hands together.
Gili looked to me, seemingly unsure where this was heading. She contemplated a moment then lifted a drooped sleeve. "I suppose, but-", Fannah's palms ignited with a blinding flash. "So you ARE a witch! You've bewitched my brother!" She screamed, bolting forward as though she were to vaporize her with light. Just in time, I extended an arm to hold her back. "There will be none of that."
Taking her by the arm, I tugged her into the hall while Mother and Gili resumed. My first question, "Why are you here? We were heading your way on the next leg of the journey. I promised, remember?." She turned her back to me, pouting. "Did you burn my letters before reading them again?" She twirled, smacking me across the face firmly. "“Fanar wake up! I'll not have that siren whisk you away again." Oh how I've missed her. Just in time to see the blow, Father stepped out from the bathroom in a matching vest. "Caught, red-handed." I chuckled. Father's expression spoke volumes, certainly bringing back like-wise warm memories of our antics. "Here for a while, I hope." He remarked, peeking into the family room then joining us. Towering over Fannah and but an inch taller than I, he put his arms across both of our shoulders and looked to Mother and Gili. He smiled and gave me a look of total approval. "Good work, boy." He whispered, patting me on the back as he broke off and continued toward the doorway.
"Mister Snakestone himself, I presume. A pleasure to see you again as well." Gili said mid-embrace. Mother glared on, annoyed but far less so than earlier. They spoke for a few moments as Fannah and I caught up. She had long since planned this meeting and had prepared a variety of wards along the road to know of our coming. Fiolette came up in the conversation a few times before I finally interrupted to ask where she was. Mother had just finished feeding her in time to meet us at the door, our presence long announced, and had left her in the family room, sleeping soundly far and away from any potential "conflict". With much pleading, Mother agreed to allow the entire party to see her under the expectation of quiet. Seated atop the leather sofa in a lined basket not unlike what Fannah and I used as infants, lay little Fiolette. She is quite new to the world, born sometime after my first meeting Gili. I had visited a few times since her birth, but as fate is swift to call me away, we have had little interaction. Perhaps once things are settled, really settled, she'll have her big brother around more often. Gili knelt before her, much to Fannah's displeasure, brushing the back of her hand across her cheek. My wife-to-be spoke on words barely audible to those not long of ear, "May you grow as strong as Fanar, and taller than Fannah." Above her, Fannah grumbled while the rest of us smiled contently.
As the night carried on, Mother brought the sleeping Fiolette upstairs and watched over her while finishing up our meal. Summoned by bells, the rest of us shuffled upstairs and lined about a table long with many chairs. Mother and Father sat at one side, Gili and I at the other. Fannah sat with Fiolette to the outward side, where she was free to glare at Gili throughout the ordeal. The conversation bounded from one topic to another, firstly a deeper dive into Gili's past. From there, to our meeting, the search for her Mother's statue, the disappointing conclusion and continued outings to meet with me. A brief touch on Father and Mother's lives, then of my travels above and below. Next on to Fannah's profession, though she dodged the question of how it came to be as she always does. Moods went high and low depending on the story. During one such high point, I took the opportunity to make known our intent to marry, as if there were any doubt at this point, and that Fannah's temple would be our next stop after a quick visit with the Grandparents. The conversation at last came to things of late and our reason for visiting Grandfather, the thing on the peak, the Berne, the fears that this could all relate to Assut. Once she had finished her meal, Fannah pushed herself off from the table and stormed off with Fiolette. Thinking she had finally given up, I kicked back, somewhat relieved. Father and I met eye to eye, already knowing what the other was thinking. With the baby out of the room, it was a fine a time as any to light up some Elves Ears.
The family moved from room to room for a while. Gili and Mother mended well as the night carried on, there was talk of repairing her turban in the morning. I even saw she and Fannah speak without the glow of magic on several occasions toward the end. I expected worse, truth be told. The festivities continued until just before midnight, we then went our separate ways. I saw Gili to our room-to-be downstairs, Theo's old room. As Gili settled into bed, I returned to the kitchen for but a moment to see if Mother needed help with the dishes. I found her humming and rocking little Fiolette back to sleep. Best not to disturb them, I made my way back downstairs. In the long hall, I found Fannah motioning for me in front of the storeroom door. With a sigh I walked over to see what she had up her sleeve.
"Fanar, I'm sorry about tonight. I just miss how things used to be when we were little, it's more about that than about her. I'm sure she's fine, I just don't want to lose you." All but in tears, she collapsed against my chest and held tight. "You are still little, Fannah." She smiled and nestled her head closer. "You and I are leaves shaken by the same winds. I too know well the longing for days since past, I obsess over it whether I talk about it or not. But times change and all must move on, somehow." Unsure what else to say, I held her and drew long of mind, swimming through the waters of my life in search of that which I needed.
"Do you remember our last time together in Helsmyrr? Helsmyrr, a place I plan to call home once all is settled. I promise that. By the pond, dragonfly made merry above the face of the waters, and many a fish went about their lives, disturbed by naught but stray hair filtering through the planks of the dock and falling into their domain. Above said dock, once-near-mirrored forms twisted by time. The more-fair side of the coin stood above the less-fair as he dozed. A loud slap roused him from his slumber and they were soon on their way. Down the road to a ruined temple recently renewed by the more-fair. The less-fair had just returned from a grand journey, in search of one who he, in the end, could not find. The more-fair berated the less-fair. Thinking that the person he had been searching for had been a woman and being a woman of the old Mara herself, she said that when the time was right, "she" would come to him. That he should stop searching until said time was right. She was wrong, you know? The less-fair was indeed searching for someone, but the person he sought long for was himself. Purpose, meaning. A place in the world. In time he realized his purpose, he had been doing the right thing all along but was blind to it. But with one void filled, another soon opened. The less-fair chewed on the words of the more-fair, and in his travels long and far searched for the one that she had prophesied. Perhaps then he would be happy. No matter how far he went, it was a fruitless search. One day, fate brought the less-fair to a castle in the mountains and before him stood one most-fine. The one he had been searching for. That time will likewise come for the more-fair some day but until then, and beyond then, the other side of the coin will always be there, should she have need of him. She need but think of that day, and of this one."
Here’s a Hildoceras ammonite we found and opened at the 🏝 🌊 This beautiful Golden Fossil was literally laid on the shingle! 😆🦕 In medieval Europe, fossilised ammonites were thought to be petrified coiled snakes, and were called "snakestones" 🐍 🐍
The thrilling yarn of Haar and Snakestone (none other than the incredible character of @mrsnakestone) walking down the road in Whiterun, then back up it again.
—–
The first snowflakes of autumn had been falling since morning, frosting the tips of every blade of grass in Whiterun, delicately perching on the conifers, and melting on the paving stones. The guard was more active than usual and the townsfolk were scarce outdoors, as if there were a madman on the loose. The reality was much less sinister, the watchmen were pacing extra distance to keep warm, anxious to return home to prepare their winter attire before their next shift, meanwhile their families were huddled inside, drinking something warm no doubt.
Two men made their way down the lonely street. The first, a tall black-maned lion of a man, clad in plate-reinforced black leather, led the way toking his pipe every three or four steps. The slightly taller, much rounder, bare-chested lummox strode behind him with an impeccable swagger as if there were anyone else to see it. One brave shopkeeper was their only company, hastily moving her produce out from under their blankets and into her handcart and back indoors. The lummox swiped a carrot from the market stall and, only after a sharp kick to the shin from the other man, tossed a few Septims to the scowling shopkeeper. He took a bite of the carrot and chewed with great labor, eventually swallowing and coughing. "Fuckin' forgot I hate these things."
"You could use the veggies, Haar," his companion said. "You know you could do with less of that blubber. I was almost proud of you for picking that up."
Haar let out a booming laugh from his stomach that echoed off the city's walls. "And you could lay off the pipe you blacklung. Look at me, I'm Snakestone. AKH! AKH!" he mimicked in his best impression of a suffocating Argonian, with the carrot shoved between his lips like an orange cigar.
Snakestone chuckled quietly, trying not to rasp and wheeze in an effort not to sound like his friend's mockery of him. "Yeah yeah, you're just jealous you left your pipe at home. Ya know I never see you enjoying that- I made that special for you, you ungrateful-"
"Well of course, I enjoy earthly pleasures in moderation."
"You? Moderation?"
"Yeah yeah, fine, you got me.
"...And, uh, I don't have a wife that knows Restoration, so-"
Snakestone perked up, "Oh? You saying you got a wife now? You didn't have the ceremony without me, did you?"
"Nah, you know it ain't like that." Haar finished the remainder of the carrot in one bite and discarded the stem, struggling to down the wretched thing. "All that binds us is a business contract. She does the planning, I do the killing."
"Ha! Business contract my foot. You know Mara frowns upon such uncouth unions." Snakestone took the pipe out of his mouth and mockingly judged him with his eyes. "Well, when you two decide to do things proper, you best not forget-"
"Best not forget to have you stand up as my best man. I know, I know, as if it would ever be anyone else."
"You're damn right." Snakestone returned the pipe to his lips and drew in deep, leaving smoke rings trailing behind him as the pair continued down the empty street. They both stopped in front of a brazier near the gate, remaining silent for a while. Snakestone did a number on his pipeweed, meanwhile Haar absorbed all the warmth he could from the crackling fire against his exposed torso. Despite how he carried himself, he was bothered that every successive winter felt colder and colder to him. Must come with age, he thought, not that it brought him any comfort. And he surely wasn't about to let anyone know about it.
The two remained like this long after the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, until Snakestone broke the silence. "Here, before I forget." He took a coin purse out of his satchel and dumped some coins into his hands. "Your half."
"Bah, keep it. You've got two gremlins to feed. Besides, you took the contract, the jarl was paying you."
"Haar, buddy, don't tell me you don't deserve something for that performance."
"You're the one that drove your sword into that mage. He was the one with the bounty on his head."
"Maybe, but you know very well we would have had an uphill battle if it weren't for you throwing the little guy into the rest of the group."
Haar cracked up, finally failing to contain his stifled pride. "Fuckin' never gets old."
Snakestone clapped him on the back to distract him from the small pile of Septims he slipped into Haar's boot. To his surprise, he didn't seem to notice. "Well, what ever you say buddy. By Shor, it's gotten late."
"I know!" Haar growled. "And I haven't had a drink since supper."
"To the Mare?"
"To the Mare!"
The men made their way back up the main street. Not another soul had come outside the entire time, the city had entered its first deep sleep of the winter. As they reached the stairs up to the inn, Haar stopped and shook his left foot at Snakestone, causing an audible jingle.
Keerava had some choice words for this fool. He “promised not to do it again” and then went to harass the patrons to find out what they thought of his performance.
