Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

148 2. THE ELDER SCROLLS CHAPTER 2: DAGGERFALL
She nodded dumbly. His voice was deep and kind, clear in the high whistling of the wind, but
her eyes went to his dread companion.
"No need to fear," he repeated. "My friend Grellan here will lead us back to safety. Unless
you indeed do wish to spend the night here." His hands reached for hers and pulled her up,
and she leaned on his arm and hobbled alongside him.
When at last they reached her door, he said, "I stopped here hoping for shelter from the storm.
I hope you don't mind?"
How could she refuse? Men too could be wolves, but if he were it wasn't likely he'd take no
for an answer anyway. "P-p-please come in. I l-left the k-kettle on the boil but I expect it's
empty by now," she said inanely.
"I did go in, when there was no response to my knock, and found the babe asleep and alone,
and the kettle boiling away. I took the kettle from the fire, but left the babe be. I knew his
mother would not be far, and sent Grellan to find you. Lucky for you, but then I have always
brought luck to those around me."
He threw back his hood and she saw that he was tall and pale, with silver hair and eyes, but a
young face. His countenance was grim, but the silver eyes were kind and his mouth gentle.
"My horse too will want shelter on this night. Have you a shed to offer him?"
While he stabled his horse she changed out of her wet clothing and fixed a bit of supper for
them: soup and bread and cheese, and elmroot tea. As she dished it up she apologized meekly
for the meager fare.
"Why, 'tis a feast compared to my efforts!" He smiled, and fell to, hungrily. Grellan lay by the
fire, his eyes fixed on his master, who occasionally flung him a morsel. "He ate well
yesterday, luckily for your chickens, else I'd have to buy one from you."
"Nay, nay," she protested. "I'm deep in your debt and glad to share anything I have with you."
The babe stirred and cried then, and she picked him up, changed his wet diaper, and put him
to her breast.
"Where's your husband, lady?"
She hesitated a moment - the thought flashed that she should not tell this stranger how alone
and unprotected she was - then told him the truth.
"A sad tale, truly," he said, "but he's left you a handsome child, and you seem quite
comfortable here." His eyes went round the humble one room cottage, crib and feather bed at
one end, covered with a quilt of her mother's making, and stone hearth at the other, table and
chairs made by her father in the middle. A ladder led to the loft where she'd slept as a child.
Suddenly the simple room seemed a palace to her. They were warm and dry and well fed, and
indeed what could be better?
"Why, you're right, stranger. I am lucky after all. Now, will you tell me something of
yourself?"