Mashed Potatoes
Tabby and Dervs
15th Midyear, 4E208
Oasis, Alik'r Desert
Early morning, after sunrise...Zaveed knelt by the riverbank, the sunlight just barely bringing in some much needed light into the cavern as he held his elvish dagger, looking down the blade and frowning at the faint stain in the moonstone he’d been unable to remove for some time. Who would have guessed after all of these years, it would have been his own blood that tainted the finish of the blade? He’d find a way to clean the damned thing, that was for sure. It didn’t diminish the integrity of the blade, but it felt like a blight on his very soul.
A gasp of pain sounded behind him, closer to the cooking tent than he was. The Khajiit turned to look and saw the Altmer girl holding her bloodied palm, a knife on the ground near where she was sitting. He shook his head, standing up and walking over to her. “May I be of assistance?” he asked, gesturing to the hand. Without waiting for consent, he grabbed a bottle of rum that was sitting on one of the benches and some clean linen wraps, usually used for protecting food from the elements and bugs that had yet to make their way out of the packaging.
“What’s your name? You’ve been very meek and quiet since I’ve first laid eyes on you. I am Zaveed… you probably already knew that.” he said with a kind smile.
Anifaire’s eyes widened in surprise, the potato and knife abandoned on the ground. The numbness she had been feeling recently was receding, but whatever reaction of fear she might have had at the Khajit’s approach was dampened. She pain blossoming in her palm was a distraction; she barely looked up to observe him.
“Yeah… I’m Anifaire,” she said. She thought for a moment - Zaveed, who’s she had heard plenty of mutterings about in recent times. She wondered if she should be avoiding him, or afraid of him, but she didn’t really care. He was there, and there was nothing she could do about it if she wanted to.
“May I?” he asked, kneeling in front of her and indicating to her hand. When she nodded in consent, looking fairly nervous all the while, he pulled the cork out of the rum bottle and gently took her hand. “This will sting considerably, but it will prevent the skin from becoming infected.” he told her gently. “If you wish, bite down on something, grip my arm or shoulder, but it will only be a few moments. Are you prepared?” he asked.
Anifaire shrugged, imagining a bug bite or the current sting of the cut, but she did realize it had to be cleaned. If she’d gotten a scratch or bump in her youth, a few drops of healing potions had been easy to spare from her father’s stores. She nodded at him to proceed, her spare hand covering her clenched jaw.
When he poured the substance onto her cut, the burning sensation took her entirely by surprise, despite the warnings. A choked noise escaped from the back of her throat and she jerked her arm away, shaking the injured hand to rid it of the offensive liquid. She couldn’t believe that people drank such a vile thing, for enjoyment.
And Zaveed did just that, taking a swig of the rum with a chuckle before popping the cork back into place. He gestured for her to return the hand to him so he could bandage it. “On a ship, you oftentimes didn’t have the potions you needed, but alcohol was never in short supply.” he explained, delicately, but firmly, wrapping the linens tightly about her palm. A bit of crimson soaked through the first two or three passes until he had her hand sufficiently covered. Taking his blade, he cut the linen short and tied it off. “And there we are, all done.” the privateer promised, releasing her hand. “I’m sure someone can brew you a healing potion to mend your skin, or use restoration magic, but this will hold for the time being. He promised. “Forgive me for being so forward, my dear, but you do not seem to be the type who is familiar with this sort of lifestyle, as if it’s bewitching to you.”
“I think I’ve seen more healing potions than alcohol,” she muttered. “But, no, I’m not accustomed to this life.” There was certainly no statement truer than that. She eyed his blade as he worked, elven make, certainly familiar, and reminiscent of the dagger her own father had once given her. Though she got the sense that the man across from her was certainly more effective with his than she ever had been with hers. After all, he probably took it off someone’s body, she thought, looking at it with an unsettled expression.
“Your accent, Alinor… I want to say Cloudrest or Skywatch?” he asked, catching her gaze at his blade. He pulled it from the sheath, and with a flourish, offered it to her, hilt first. “There’s an air of recognition here, I think.”
“Alinor, actually,” she replied, wondering how one managed such a sense of geography. Hesitantly, she took the blade, turning it over in her hands. It was indeed similar, with a few differences. It had a glimmering sapphire hilt, even more ornate than the one she’d lost in the Imperial City had been. “I used to have something similar. From my father.” She hesitated. “Where did you get this?”
“I am… was a Dominion privateer. Has the name Captain Greywake ever crossed your travels? I’ve been to Summerset quite often, a beautiful place, simply wondrous. It’s a shame the Thalmor are in charge; the arrogance can be suffocating.” Zaveed explained, studying Anifaire’s face. He gestured to the blade. “That was presented to me to officially declare my station and service to the Dominion, protecting Her Majesty’s seas, and maybe do a few things she would frown upon if she found out.”
“Oh…” His words seeped into her mind slowly. A… privateer? She looked at the blade again. “I don’t recall. My father mentioned a lot of people, but I don’t think I listened very closely. He’s… Thalmor,” she added. Like everyone she’d known, really. “You… sailed a ship for the Dominion?” The thought was so strange to her. Sure, she’d seen plenty of Khajiit and Bosmer around Alinor - not that she’d ever spoken to one - but considering them being part of the Dominion was strange to her. The Dominion was her father, his friends, the people she saw at her mother’s school. Her eyebrows creased.
“Of course. Mostly Khajiit and Bosmer, but there were a few Altmer willing to put aside racial pride for a chance at glory, or a lack of a better place to go.” The Khajiit shrugged. “Made port in Senchal, prowled up and down the coasts from there to the Northern end of Valenwood, occasionally beyond. It was my duties to make sure that the seaways were safe for Dominion vessels and do more off the books raids and attacks that the Navy was forbidden from taking part in during peacetime. It’s like government-sanctioned piracy. “My sister serves as a bodyguard and captain for a Thalmor emissary, Erincaro Syiantar?” Zaveed said, posing it more of a question to see if the name was familiar to Anifaire.
Anifaire shrugged. “My sister would know. I never paid attention,” she added with a bit of a sigh. She recalled the times her parents spoke of politics, and how often she would ignore those particular conversations. Alindril, on the contrary, always engaged with passion. Her father had been proud of her, handing out responsibilities, special training, military positions and Alindril took it all in stride. She broke out of her reminiscence, turning her attention back to Zaveed, shrugging slightly.
“So, how did you end up getting involved with this lot?” Zaveed asked suddenly, curious as how an Alinor born and raised girl who probably never left her home island until she ended up in her present circumstances wound up in a cave in the middle of the Alik’r Desert, standing out like a sore thumb. “The others, I can understand, but you seem quite uncomfortable and bewildered by all of this.” he said, picking up her knife and wiping it clean before setting it down and finding another to continue peeling potatoes for Anifaire. “Is the rest of the world what you thought it was?”
She paused, realizing she wasn’t sure if there was anything he shouldn’t know. “Well, I study… I studied the Dwemer. It started with an archaeological dig.” She fussed with the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t know what I was expecting when I left, a change I suppose, something with less monotony... but not this.” If there was anything she was certain of, that was it. “There’s far fewer books out here,” she commented. “I don’t think I could go back anymore.”
“No?” Zaveed asked, raising an eye ridge. “Because you’ve grown, or it would be hard to accepted back by your family?” he asked.
“How does your studies compare to the real thing? I admit, I didn’t think much of long-extinct races of elves, but recent events made me wish I paid a bit more attention to the stories. It was an unexpected surprise, and not a welcome one.” Zaveed explained, placing the peeled potato on a fresh cloth. “If it helps, I can teach you a few practical skills to make your time a bit less difficult? Bit by bit, turn you into a proper adventurer.” he said with an encouraging grin.
“I think… both. I don’t think I could go back to a... complacent life. I know they’d take me, but I don’t think…” she thought of Alim again, losing her train of thought. “It couldn’t be the same,” she summarized, and shifted the topic: “The Dwemer fascinated me at first. I used to sit and watch them.” Suddenly, it struck her who she was talking to again, but the strangeness of the situation was so much so that she let it roll past her. “I think I’m just angry with them now.”
She wrung her hands together, watching the potatoes. “I don’t even know how to cook,” she admitted. “I’ve never done it before.”
“I cannot fault you for your anger, Anifaire. I was pressed into serving them against my will. Well, my will to live overrode my desire to not be the pawn of some Deep Elves, but here we are, trying to make amends.” Zaveed replied with a shrug. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it is good you are having these experiences, meeting people you normally would have never spoken with. It will only help you grow and form your own opinions about the world and who you want to be, not what a rigid society wants you to be.”
He held up the potato for her to observe. He turned it over, pulling the knife through the potato into his palm. “This is the classic mistake, and likely what caught you. Lesson one, never cut
toward yourself. If it suddenly gives way, or you slip, you may cut yourself. Instead,” he turned it over, drawing the blade through the other side, clear of his fingers and body. “Away from you. A rule of any blade is the cutting edges go outward, where they cannot harm you. Axe, sword, knife, anything. Now, for peeling a vegetable, you want shallow angles, like so.”
The Khajiit took one half of the potato and placed the blade slightly under the skin and slowly drew it across, lifting it up, only taking the bare minimum of flesh from the vegetable. He repeated it again, slowly, so the Altmer’s eyes could follow. “Like so, until there skin is gone, then you can do all manner of things. Mash it, dice it, boil it. It’s quite a versatile vegetable. Now, your turn.” He said, handing the knife back with the other unpeeled half of the potato. “Just like I showed you.”
Anifaire had thought that once too, back in Gilane, that she was trying new things, meeting new people, but it didn’t seem to matter at the moment. She couldn’t peel a potato, let alone help Alim. She was no good at this life.
Still, she accepted the knife and the potato back, her hand tender from the cut. Peeling the potato in the opposite direction was a bit more awkward for her, and her progress was slower, but she tried to take her time instead of peeling with the frustration she’d felt before, slowly chipping away at the potato.
“I was hoping to mash it,” she muttered, thinking about how she’d eaten them previously, mouth watering at the thought. Cooking for herself was never something she thought she’d do. Her eyes wandered over to Zaveed briefly, pondering what she’d heard about him. He didn’t seem particularly threatening, capable, sure, but not exactly malicious. But after all, they were just sitting in a cavern full of people. Peeling the next potato, Anifaire felt as though she was getting a little bit better at the actions, and felt a twinge of satisfaction, but the hopelessness came back.
“Good, you’re doing well.” The Khajiit said encouragingly as he patiently watched Anifaire work. “It’s just like that. Let me get a bowl and a pestle, we can do that, if you’d like, and some spices.” He promised, standing suddenly to gather those things. He found some pepper, garlic powder and mustard seed, as well as a pan with a wooden handle and a wooden spoon. “These will do, I think. Please, continue.” he said, kneeling across from her like before. He caught her eye, and he wasn’t sure what was going through her mind at this point, but he thought he’d mention something on his mind. “I’m surprised how accepting you are of me.” he admitted, his hands on his lap. “I don’t know if it helps, but my intentions here are genuine. I would like to make amends, if for no other reason than to keep the rest of this journey focused away from distrust.”
“I don’t know what to think of you,” she said honestly. She eyes the spices, feeling a tiny flicker of happiness spark inside her, and she almost smiled. “Everyone says bad things about you.” She hadn’t considered the words before she said them, and as soon as they came out she paused. “I- that was rude.” She considered the things she’d heard and wondered if maybe she was supposed to be rude.
“No, please, speak your mind.” Zaveed said encouragingly with a warm smile. “Trust me, I’ve heard a number of unflattering things at my expense, and I’ll be the first to admit what your friends have said about me, most of it’s true. Perhaps exaggerated through a lens of hatred and loathing, but I have done wrong by them. It was not long ago you were all my enemies, and I had thought you terrorists, harming innocents as misguided ‘freedom fighters’. I will not apologize for what I’d done, or who I am, but that was yesterday. What matters is my intentions today, tomorrow, and the next.” he explained calmly, setting the materials out in an orderly fashion as he placed the peeled potatoes in the bowl. “I tell you these things because I want you to understand that I am sincere when I say that I do not wish harm to any of you, and I will fight for your cause as long as I am here. You and me, sitting here peeling potatoes, this is real, genuine.” he shrugged. “It is a skill your father or mother should have taught you… not that I would know what that was like.” he chuckled.
He didn’t exactly seem like she would’ve pictured him from what she’d heard before, like some villain in a children’s story. He was just sitting here peeling potatoes and she couldn’t quite picture anything else. Her apathetic mood had her not wanting to contemplate it.
“I don’t think my father or my mother know how to peel potatoes,” she said. “I’ve never seen either of them do anything like that. They taught me magic. Reading. Math. And I had tutors...”
“Hard to believe that the Altmer were the ones to command the Dominion armies into encircling and besieging the Imperial City, hm?” Zaveed said, conversationally. “You can command armies, but the kitchen remains as arcane as any magic school. Imagine that.” the Khajiit grinned, taking another potato from Anifaire into the bowl. “See, all of that is great and all if you’re never planning on leaving a classroom, but I can tell you’re miserable because you feel so out of place. Imagine how you’d feel if you felt like you were contributing positively to everyone here.” he reached over, placing a reassuring hand on her knee. “And that isn’t a slight against you. You do not know what you do not know, and there is no shame in that. What matters is the willingness to learn and grow. Already, you’re one step closer to being able to prepare meals for your friends. Food is something that makes everyone happy, and you’ll never have to depend on another to decide what you’re going to eat or how to make it.”
She wondered if her father had indeed had any hand in decisions like that, which he almost certainly had. She’d never thought about it before.
“Cooking,” she agreed, moving her knife with improving skill. Food is something that makes everyone happy. She nodded to herself; that made sense. It did. It made her happy. But it wouldn’t get Alim out of prison, and that thought dampened her brief good thoughts. “It’s not exactly… fighting.”
“If you’d like, I can also show you how to use that knife for more… malignant purposes.” Zaveed offered, searching for an appropriately soft enough term for it. “You’re a well educated highborn lady, that much is clear. I am not; I’m street trash who had to fight a lot to get where I am now, and I’ll leave it to you to decide who is in a better place.” he smiled. “I can’t teach you how to have a fighter’s intuition, or how to be aggressive, but I can teach you how to defend yourself and those you care about.”
“I just want Alim back,” she muttered, her hands stilling, half peeled potato abandoned. Her eyes dropped. She tried to imagine digging the small knife into a real person instead of a potato, but she couldn’t.
“I understand you all think he’s in that prison we’re going to. If that is the case, we shall find him.” Zaveed promised, closing her hand over the potato still in hand. “This is a hard lesson you’re going to have to learn and accept in your heart; you cannot dwell on things that were, or have yet to pass. Do not let your pain distract you from what you can do today. Tomorrow will come, whether or not we wish it to, so do not give up on what you can do now. Right now, your fight is learning how to prepare yourself a simple meal. Tomorrow, perhaps saving your paramour? One thing at a time.” he said softly. “Please, continue.”
She picked the potato back up, dragging the knife underneath the skin again. “He’s my friend,” she had to insist, a light pink colouring her cheeks. “But I hope we find him.” She wanted to insist that she couldn’t do any good, that was what ate her up, that she just couldn’t help. She kept quiet, focusing on each potato, because at least she could improve her skill at that. She was hungry, finally, after going so long without an appetite.
“Friend, then.” Zaveed agreed with a wink. When the potato was peeled, he placed it in the bowl with the others. He handed the bowl back to Anifaire, along with the first of the spices. “Now, take the spoon and start splitting apart the potatoes, and sprinkle a light coating of the pepper across the surface until it’s even. Not too much, a delicate touch. Then, begin to stir and turn over the mash.”
Anifaire nodded, trying to keep up. She began spicing the potatoes, thinking ahead to when she would be eating them. As she focused on what she was doing, she felt calmer than she had in the past day. Even all the bloodshed she had seen recently was beginning to fade in her mind. She was surprised to find she actually was enjoying cooking. “I should’ve tried doing this sooner,” she said.
“You just needed someone to show you.” Zaveed said with a smile. Once everything was properly mashed up, he helped add the other two spices and had her mix around a bit more. “Now the fun part,” he promised. “Take the pan, hold it by the handle, and hold it over the fire until the potatoes start to brown, and keep mixing them around like you were before until everything is a nice golden shade. Make sense?”
“Sure,” she agreed, wondering if she would burn herself. Nervously, she held out the pan, which was a bit heavy. She fumbled with it, nearly dropping the pan but catching it with her other hand before correcting how she was holding it. Her hand shook slightly. “Oops,” she mumbled. She scooted her seat closer to the fire, which helped a bit.
“Not bad.” Zaveed said, picking up a thick cloth to keep handy. “Remember, it’s going to get hot. If you need to grab it by anything other than the handle, protect yourself.” he cautioned. “Nice and close, like that. See how the potatoes are starting to steam?”
She imagined burning herself would happen before the potatoes were finished, just like she’d already cut herself. The potatoes were beginning to smell, and her stomach felt so empty. “Does this take long?” she asked.
“Only a few minutes, my dear. Just do not let it sit on one side for long.”
True to his word, Zaveed soon had the Altmer pull the pan away from the fire and set it down. With the spoon, he scooped it into the bowl he had set aside. “And there you are, you cooked something.” he said triumphantly, offering Anifaire her creation.
The looked at the dish with satisfaction. It actually smelled good, though she had expected something she had made herself to be nearly inedible, simply a form of sustenance. The eagerly took the first bite and found the dish to be surprisingly appetizing. She felt a bit embarrassed to have needed help with cooking while everyone else seemed to treat it as a simple chore.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. From what she’d heard, Zaveed was the last person she expected to help her.
“Of course. Now I can trick you into making me meals.” Zaveed teased with a wink. “Before long, you’ll be a natural. Just pay attention to others when they are doing it, or even ask if you can help. You might be surprised what you can do; you never know until you try. How do you feel?”
“I’m,” she paused. “I’m happy it tastes good.” She compared them to potatoes from home, and cooked over a campfire, maybe they weren’t the same quality, but they were reasonably tasty and she was hungry. She looked at Zaveed. “I suppose I only know how to cook potatoes, though,” she pointed out.
“One does not reach the top of a tower without taking each of its steps. Potatoes are one, who is to say what tomorrow’s is?” Zaveed pointed out with a shrug. “Life is a journey, and who we are is defined by small things that accumulate into something great. One day, you’ll see that great view, if only you keep taking those steps. Are you up for the challenge, Anifaire? If not, you can at least be proud that you’re eating something you created, not some servant somewhere. It’s what life is about.”
Anifaire thought about that for a moment. Perhaps, she could help whoever decides to cook in the next days and learn something else.
“Thank you,” she said. She couldn’t help wondering how someone who seemed so… normal had actually tortured her friends, and killed that man from the ship. And in this case, he was correct; potatoes were a small step, and maybe she would have to do everything in small steps.
“My pleasure.” Zaveed said, standing at last and brushing himself off. “Just remember; cut away from yourself, keep food moving to keep it from burning. Apply those lessons everywhere they show up, and you’ll do well.” he said, stretching out his arms. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a need to maintain my body so we can be daring heroes and rescue our respective friends, yes? Come find me if you want a lesson of a more dangerous persuasion.” With a theatrical bow, the Cathay walked off towards his bedroll, working out a kink in his shoulder while humming a strange tune.
Anifaire lifted another bite of potatoes to her mouth, her strange distraction gone. She had never expected to really encounter Zaveed, after the two groups joined, and he was even farther from what she’d expected. She struggled to reconcile the encounter she had moments ago with the whispers she heard from others in her group, but her emotions began to fade back into the apathy Zaveed interrupted and she stopped thinking about anything but enjoying her potatoes.
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