Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

[30.8] KING EDWARD VIII
and a keep of some sort within that. A track north took them past a small house with a large
barn nearby. Both looked in poor repair, but Moraelyn sent Aliera and Edward to knock at the
door and ask if they might sleep in the barn. The rest waited in the road.
An elderly woman answered their knock; she looked pleased to see them. "Stay? Aye, I'd be
glad of the company. No need to sleep in the barn, though, lady. I've a room to spare. My
name's Ora Engelsdottir." Aliera gestured toward the waiting Companions. The woman
squinted toward them. "Thy man's there and some friends? Aye, we'll all squeeze together
then. T'will be warmer so. I've a pot of soup on the fire; made it to last me a week but you're
welcome to it. I can make more."
"My husband's an elf."
"Is he so? He looks to take good care of thee and thy son. Thou's fat as pigs. Bring them in. I
wish my grand-daughter had such a one to care for her."
Ora refused payment, saying she was not yet at such a pass that her guests must pay for her
hospitality. She said tales and song and an evening's merriment would be payment enough.
Pots and dishes were set out to catch the worst of the leaks; she knew them all well. They
gathered around the hearth and made very merry while the storm raged, banging the shutters
and doors and threatening to blow the roof away altogether.
"Tell me, my lady," Ora whispered apart to Aliera, "He's truly good to thee? He's so big and
so black."
"Truly good," Aliera said keeping her mouth serious while her eyes laughed.
"Aye, 'tis well, then. He put me a bit in mind of our baron, who's big and dark...oh, not so
dark as thy elf. He took my grand-daughter, Caron, and he does not treat her well. He...he
hurts her, my lady. And she dare not run away. Where would she go?" Tears gathered in Ora's
eyes and followed worn familiar tracks down her cheeks.
When their hostess had gone to sleep in her own room, Aliera repeated what she had been
told.
"Let's rescue the girl," Beech said, "we grow stale with inaction."
"Aye!" said Silk and Willow at once.
Mats growled an agreement. Mith and Ssa'ass looked interested.
Moraelyn looked doubtful. "We cannot right every wrong in Tamriel. This baron offers his
folk shelter of a kind. They could leave if they liked it better outside."
"Aye," Mith said, "he keeps the bandits off so he may rob the folk at leisure."
"And we pull him down? There'll be another to take his place. Or else the outside will come in
and there'll be nothing left at all."
"Nothing would be better than this filthy something," Mats said.
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