Edovan was sure he had died and gone to paradise. Not Sovngarde, that old school Nord concept of the afterlife for brave and valiant warriors, who feast forever in a giant mead hall with the heroes of olde. No, this was his own PERSONAL paradise, and he knew it was, because he was in Yagaritte's bed, and she was was with him. Well, more like wrapped around him. They were naked and lying on their sides, facing each other, completely entwined, not in an active, aggressive sexual manner, but in a blissful, lazy, post-coital, afterglow kind of manner. Technically Edovan had never even had actual sex yet... but it was clear to him that in this paradise, they had.
His leg was again trapped between her thighs, her slick, warm sex pressed against his skin. Her right leg was wrapped around his pulling him to her. Her arms were squeezing him tight and his face was nestled in that perfect mid space of maximum deepness in the valley between her breasts as her left arm cradled him from behind supporting him so he would not slip from between them. Her right arm was wrapped around his shoulder and she was gently stroking his hair as she clutched him to herself tenderly. It was a perfect moment... in a perfect place, and he never ever ever wanted it to end.
So, of course, it did.
Not all at once... first she rolled over on top of him, not crushing him, but gently burying him underneath her much larger frame. But then her pressure on him began to decrease... he felt less and less of her weight, until he realized that she was herself weightless, and rapidly drifting upward and away from him. He tried to hold on to her, but her arms were stiff and unresponsive, and she kept rising till she was out of his reach. And he wanted to sit up but he couldn't for some reason and he cried out to her, "Why... why are you leaving me?!" and she kept rising and he could see an open doorway of pitch blackness behind her and she kept rising toward it and then she said, "Because I am not here." and vanished into the blackness. Suddenly the window to her room burst open and a howling cold wind blew in and chilled him to the bone, and yet he still could not move. He just lay there, shivering.
And then someone started poking him in the face.
* * * * *
That part, at least, was real. Someone was poking him in the face... with a stick. He opened his bleary eyes, and then felt the freezing wind across his skin. Okay, apparently that part was real, too. He looked up, scrunching his eyes A very short and heavy Nord woman with white hair and a face like a shriveled potato (who had to be at least three times as old as Margara), was on the other end of the stick. She poked him again.
"I think that's enough sleep for you, golden boy. Up and at 'em," her voice sounded a lot like a guar... deep, gravelly, and more resonant than a woman that size should have, like she was bigger on the inside somehow than the outside. And possibly filled with rocks.
Edovan sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He wrapped himself with his arms, shivering.
"If you are so cold why did you open your window?" the woman inquired, and then made a little exasperated sigh. "Oh, here, let me go close it for you since you can't make up your mind..."
She walked... waddled really... over to the large double window and swung shut both of the heavy wooden shutters which were covered with thick horker skin on the outside, then fastened the latch. The room was still cold, but at least he wasn't contending with the northern winds any more.
"How you feelin?" She said as she turned back to him.
Edovan took a quick physical inventory, moved and stretched, tested his bones and muscles. Nothing hurt. He reached up to the side of his head to feel the gash but it, too, was gone.
"I feel pretty good actually. You must be a miracle worker!" he exclaimed.
The old woman waddled over to him and pushed his head to one side with her walking stick without any warning. Then she poked him where his broken rib should be. He winced in anticipation, but nothing hurt, other than the stick being jabbed in his ribs. Lastly she aimed her cane at his nose and Edovan deflected it quickly with an arm, pulling his head head back out of the stick's reach.
"My nose is fine... trust me. Doesn't hurt at all," he assured her.
The old woman peered at him as if he was trying to trick her, or at the very least deprive her of the fun of poking him in the nose with a stick.
"Yeah, yer damn right I am. A miracle worker every day around here. But not for you. They said you were pretty bad, but by the time I made my second round you had started to heal on your own." She continued, " I don't use magic... no gods or healing words. Just good old fashioned medicine, potions, salves, and poultices. Takes longer, mind you, but gets the job done. I just figgered you still had some mojo goin' from that three ring circus you called a fight, hah!" she shouted, rapping her stick on the floor for emphasis..
"How long have I been asleep?" Edovan queried.
"You? " The old woman answered as she moved about the room straightening things, righting a chair that had fallen over by the window, rehanging a painting that had fallen off the wall next to the window. "Since noon yesterday, when you got your beak bashed by that young zerk's snapper."
Edovan flushed bright red at the memory... which was now coming back to him... in extreme close up AND slow motion. To be honest he was more than a little grateful he had been knocked unconscious after that unforeseen turn of events. He didn't know how he would even face her now, or everyone else for that matter.
"I feel bad for her. She must really hate me now."
"Oh you think so, huh? From what I heard she LIKED you a little TOO much..." the old woman said, cackling to herself. "Speaking of... did you see her here in your room before I came up here?"
Edovan blinked twice at the outrageousness of the thought.
"No, I just woke up. And the fact I'm still alive makes me think she couldn't possibly have been in here, because she would definitely have smothered me with a p-"
He let that sentence die a merciful early death, but it was too late.
"Ohohohhohoho... ahahaa... ehehehe!" The old woman tried to stifle a cough, brought on by her cackling. "Oh she'll smother you alright... ahahahaha. You are funny one! I'll give you that! But I don't think she hates you. She's been asking about your condition every hour or so. The reason I asked you if you had seen her is because she saw me carrying your things up to you a half hour ago and offered to carry them up herself. And I KNOW she was here, because there are your things."
She pointed with her walking stick at a bundle of furs, clothing and boots wrapped with red cord that was laying on the floor at the foot of his bed. The old woman was right... Utha HAD been here. But where was she now?
The old woman interrupted that train of thought quickly.
"So anyway, this isn't a social calI. I got orders. From the boss lady herself," she said sternly. "You are supposed to pack your shit and go. Post haste. Out with you. Get thee gone!" She motioned to the door with her cane. "Big man wants to see you out, so he will be waiting downstairs. I don't want the world clomping around in my infirmary."
And with that, the strange little woman waddled out the door.
Edovan's face went numb. He couldn't breathe. It felt like the world was spinning.
It couldn't be. He had survived! That had to count for something, right? Staan had told him that didn't have to win... he just had to make a good show of it. He'd only won one round, though. And the other two defeats were pretty decisive. Ultimately it was up to the Commander. And honestly after the mess he had caused yesterday, he could see her taking any excuse available to get rid of him.
This was awful. Nearly every good thing that was happening to his life recently hinged on him being accepted to this fighter's guild. Now he wouldn't be able to pay next month's rent to Margara, he wouldn't get to hang out with Staan... and worst of all, he had proven himself unworthy of the faith put in him by the woman he loved. He wanted to just run to the ocean and chuck himself off the pier.
He wouldn't do that, of course. But didn't know what he would do, either, honestly. The thought of leaving everyone and all his new friends made his blood freeze. His brain couldn't process it. The only thing he COULD think to do was take his stuff and get out like they said. He would go back to the Boar and talk to Margara. She might know what to do. Hell, with this effect he was having on women, maybe she should have HIM whore.
He reached down and grabbed the huge bundle and hauled it up onto the bed. There were two sets of clothes. On top was his newly repaired suit and oversize coat and boots that he had walked in here with. But underneath that was clothing and gear he had never seen before. There was an immaculately tailored matching dark brown seal leather jacket and pants, which was lined with seal fur on the inside for added insulation. Also a pair of hard leather boots with fur linings, and a large cloak-coat combination garment riddled with pockets and a slit at the top... perfect for a staff to fit through. Out of curiosity, he tried on the jacket. Not only was it a perfect fit, but the shoulders and arms were sewn in such a way that gave him free range of movement.
Edovan had seen this kind of of custom mage wear before, and it was not cheap. Whoever had paid for these... had his full measurements, had had them custom tailored, and by a tailor who knew how to sew for a combat mage. They had to be a further gift from Yagaritte, a congratulations gift that he had failed to earn. His heart clenched. He knew they couldn't return them. There weren't a lot of Bosmer mages in the world to begin with, let alone any under five foot tall. And there certainly weren't any others here on THIS island. His only hope was to try to freelance (the gear would help) and maybe he could pay her back? Worse come to worst he could fall back on working at the Boar. Or maybe he could take Mint's place? He was old, right? Had to retire some day.
He put on his old clothes and bundled up the rest carefully with the red cord. Then he grabbed his staff from where it was leaning against the wall, slung it on his back, and headed downstairs to say his goodbyes.
His room appeared to be one of many leading off of a long hallway that looked like it ran the length of the building. He wasn't the only one up there. He glimpsed Baryk through one of the open doorways, who looked every bit as bad as Staan had described, and possibly worse. Lying unconscious and bandaged almost from head to toe, he looked positively ancient. But IF he ever recovered, at least he would have his place in this guild. That was more than Edovan could say.
He found the stairs at the end, and as he rounded them he could hear a huge commotion coming from below.
"You hussies are not gonna turn my infirmary into another Horny Boar! Now go away before I send for the Commander!", squawked a gravelly voice that could only be the old woman.
At the bottom of the stairs Edovan could see about fifteen feet of stone floor, and then a large set of double doors set into the wall, one of which was cracked open with Staan leaning his back against it, trying to hold it closed... with considerable effort. The potato woman was down there too, jabbing at someone on the other side with her stick, and several hands could be seen protruding through the door along the edges of it, both on the side and on the top. She jabbed savagely several times, then slapped the invading hands one by one with the end of her cane, each one retreating as it was struck, with a curse and female yelp coming from the other side of the door.
