It was never something anyone got used to- death. You’d think a man who’d lost as many friends as Jorwen could take the losing of another one like a mild disappointment. But it was never that way. He was running out of brothers in arms, maybe Solveig was right. Maybe it was time to retire and put Halla’s heart at rest, finally. Settle down and be a husband, take up tailoring again somehow, till fields. Make things grow.

He sighed, taking his eyes from the oceans and grinding his foot a little deeper in the sand. Footprints were already washed over by the tide, and he wondered how many other sets of footprints he’d never seen had been washed up and how many of those that made the prints were long gone. Perhaps that was the fate of all men’s deeds, great and small. Covered and forgotten. It made the last thirty-some years of his life seem a waste. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps behind him.

Elmera sighed and took a deep breath of the cool air streaming off the ocean.  She saw the hulking figure of Jorwen.  The water lapped softly at the sand, carrying away the grains as she approached, leaving her fresh sand to stand on.  She didn’t know what to say, so she let the calls of the birds fill the air for a moment before cocking her head.  “I am no expert, Jorwen…  But I’d like to extend my condolences, as little as they mean, for what has taken place today.”  She swallowed hard and her eyes returned to the sea, “But I really came by to apologize for speaking so… venomously toward you the other day.  I have a horrible tendency to give a poor first impression,” She felt her pride hang heavily, “I’m a stranger to your work - a company you’ve been a part of for longer than I’ve known about it - and I’ve no place to tell you off.”  The woman acknowledged her mistake, but didn’t glance over for validation, letting Jorwen decide how he would take the information.

At her mention of condolences, Jorwen only drew his lips thin and glanced towards the sand, not looking over to who he now knew was Elmera. He’d gotten her name from whispers about the camp, and none were too promising about the Red-Bear’s and her relationship. He’d long ago forsaken any ill will towards the woman, making feuds was not something he needed to be doing in his age. It still showed him something good about the woman that she apologized anyway. “I knew Farid better than most, but even I did not know him well. I respect the man, and hope his soul goes to whatever good place he thought it would before all this.”

“I accept your apology. But you need one also from me,” Jorwen sighed, “I only found out my daughter was a fighting woman a mere handful of days ago, before Windhelm fell. Watching her go off to do the work that almost took my life many times and the lives of many of my close friends is hard on a father. Those words you heard from me were from a different man, one that I try every day not to be.”

A silence ensued. There was a feeling like that was all the business they had with each other, but Jorwen did not want them to part ways with such feeble relations. He looked at the woman next to him, looking so different than the one he’d first met. “Why sign on to a Company? Let alone one with an abundance of Nords. The way the old songs have it, our two people rarely ever agreed.”

“Maybe not in matters of politics… or even culture, for that matter,” She said, waving the apology away - he had no need to explain himself.  He was arguing morality, she was arguing work, both were things they needed.  It was probably best for each of them that they let the past remain there.  “I have my own experiences with the Nordic people and the way they’ve been taught to hate mine.  I was raised in the same situation, though reversed.  I could hardly condemn yours for doing what I had when I first arrived to Skyrim.  It is a prejudice easily lived with,” She replied calmly, her hands clasping behind her back.

“I have my own way of making it through this world, and I see this Company as a new realm - it’s something I’ve not yet done, but it’s free from the oath one can give an army.  Seems like a nice fit, and at the very least, your country is… exciting.”  The Dunmer woman chuckled softly, “I know the different races of mer don’t have an easy time here…  But the ones I find get along better - it’s better to have two races that hate each other, such as Man and Mer, than to have ten.  I don’t know of your travels, Jorwen, but in elven countries, the people even look at other elves as inferior if they’re of a different breed.  Here? There are really only two, perhaps three races of people.  Mer work with some hatred from man, but since it’s shared, they don’t feel better than each other.  The Khajiit and Argonians even share this with us, to an extent, and thus…  I find it ironically less prone to war over such paltry ideas and a region that fights for power, like any other would.”  She shrugged, “It seems like a lengthy explanation, but the logic works better in my head than out loud.”

Elmera glanced over and really appraised Jorwen for a moment, “You seem a tired man, Jorwen…  I can respect you being able to stand beside me without being disgusted by my presence - many Nords have that issue if they aren’t children.”

“One of my closest friends these days is a Khajiit. Disgust for other races is one I left behind when I returned from Cyrodiil.” And he picked it up again in the Reach, “I fought against Altmer and Khajiit, and here I am, two of the people I like talking most to are one of each. Besides, I try not to hate people if I don’t have good reason to. You haven’t given me any.”

He looked down at the sand, “You give your respect to someone for simply not hating you?”

“Perhaps it was worded poorly…  I admire your lack of distaste in others.  Old Nords aren’t the easiest men to speak to, in most of my experience.  The older generations are usually the hardest to change, so I would say your travels, on first impression, seem to have made you a better person than you claim to have been.”  Elmera looked over, “I signed on for what’s shaping up to be a real long haul,” She noticed with another small laugh, “It’d be good to know I’ve a friend or two before anything terribly significant comes about.  It sounded the other day like you were making a departure soon, what’s your plan if you do?”

Jorwen thought for a bit. He could admit his defeat to his doubts and fears and simply say he didn’t know. But that wouldn’t do. No. “Settle down with the wife, make a friend that’s good at building. Have a house, till fields, make things grow. You spend as much time as I have making things dead, you start to wonder if that’s really all you can do.” And sometimes you fear that it is, “I’ll leave one day. It won’t be a grand affair, I just hope to fade back to a life I can be proud of, where I’m not marching every day and looking for the next fight. It’s a young man’s game, to be sure.”

He laughed, “But, like you said, it’ll be a long haul. I know why Ashav made me host the duel, why he made me bring Farid to trial.” A warning, but he left that part unsaid. “But by the fucking Gods, can there be something happy to talk of one of these days?”

Elmera shook her head with a smirk, “Of course.  That sounds like an earned life - elves are cursed with longevity, don’t ever let anybody tell you differently.  Living longer means it takes longer to get what you want, it’s the exact same proportions as the lives of everybody else…”  She glanced over, “Something happy to talk of?  For a married man? …  That’s a tough one, you can join this group to kill some things, or you can go home and be told to wash dishes or feed the chickens every day.  Perhaps someday I’ll find enjoyment in such tedious interests…”

She took another breath of the sea air and shut her eyes.  Between this man and the woman she’d met the other night, it seemed she’d be in good company for as long as they’d have her.  It was a bit reassuring as long as long as she could keep them talking more about themselves than asking about her.  “What’s your daughter’s name?”  She asked curiously, “She sounds like a strong woman.”

“Solveig. She has a temper. A rough woman, but she always has been. You won’t appreciate my description until you meet her.” Jorwen chuckled, “What of you? Brothers, sisters? I daresay children?”

“I’ll keep it in mind, wouldn’t want to anger anybody who took after you, that’s for sure,” She jabbed, crossing her arms in front of her, solemnly shaking her head.  “Not to speak of, sadly.  Parents never had any but me - I don’t think mother could, though she never told me…  Father passed away from a sickness brought on by particularly cold weather and mother died while I was away studying magic,” She recounted basically, keeping the details true, but barebones.  “Children of my own?  Uhm…”  She tapped her arm, not quite sure how to word it, “The company I keep doesn’t particularly provide for a situation in which I’d be able to bear any of my partners’ children,” She said jokingly, wearing a small smirk.  “It’s rather hard to discuss.  Are you an only child as well?”

“Ah.” Jorwen smiled, not quite under- “Oh. Oh, I see. I’ve met a few companions like that in my time. A sparse few, but I have.” He cleared his throat and chuckled sheepishly.

He recovered, sniffing and folding his arms, “I am. Mother died giving birth to me. I was twelve summers when my curiosity as to why I had no mother was sated by my father’s admittance. My father fared no better, though I was busy fighting a war while he died. Flux.” Jorwen cracked a smile, though it held little happiness, “It would seem the Gods were not kind to us much. My condolences for your father.”

Jorwen sighed, looking out at the sea once more, “Is this the first fighting band you’ve been with? Or are you used to a life of soldiering?”

“Thank you…  It’s been a few years, but he was everything to me.  I still wish I could get just a little advice from time to time from him.  He was strong, but there comes a point when age will betray you when it comes to your body’s maladies,” She noted with a shrug.  “He had a good life, all things considered, and so’ve I,” She said with a nod.  “He gave me what I needed to survive and not depend on anybody but myself, so I’ll always have that from him.”

Elmera sucked the inside of her cheek, “I suppose you’re right, though…  The Nine may not be charitable to us all, but if we didn’t bear this pain, then weaker men would have to, and I’d rather carry it than make another who couldn’t handle it,” She said thoughtfully.  “This is my first official company, yes…  I’ve traveled with a few Khajiit before, but I’ve never been a mercenary or a soldier.  My father was, though, until he settled down.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not useless, this is just my first experience in something like this, specifically.”

She thought it over and finally nodded, “I’m glad we could build a bridge today, Jorwen…”  She decided, “There’s a lot to do today, I’m sure, and I don’t want to hold you up much longer with such dreary discussion.  I look forward to seeing you again - whether it’s on a battlefield or a farm somewhere, I’ve no doubt that it might be a good experience to share a drink or two and tell some real stories.  I’m sure you’ve plenty of good ones, despite the hardships.”

Jorwen smiled at the bit about the farm and the stories, “Aye, I do have some stories. They’re for next we meet, though. We’d better get to busying ourselves, just don’t wait up for this old man.” He nodded with a smile as Elmera turned to leave. His eyes lingered on her shrinking form the farther she got from him. A good bridge built, and here he was thinking he was only good at burning them. He returned his gaze to the sea with somewhat of a new mood. Now, where was that cunt, Vurwe? She’d made it back to the Company this morning, hadn’t she? He missed her for some reason.