Letters to Home

Anka-ri do sen,

I'm still in Malabal Tor--place called Vulkwasten. Haven't been here long, but it seems decent. Good tavern. Good ale. No, I haven't started anything. Been behavin'. Even joined the Fighters Guild. Thought you'd like that. Step in the right direction and all. Talked to some blind swordmaster here. Temporary situation, he said. They've been dealin' with werewolves. I always thought you were just tryin' to tell scary stories, but they're real enough. I went with the Guild on a little mission yesterday. Eight of those things attacked us. Looked like people at first. Have either of you ever seen the change? Maybe so. You used to crack your knuckles and neck when you told the story. It was worse than that. Louder. Deeper. Somethin' like that can't be natural. Breaks a person down, strips 'em away. Wasn't expectin' it, and I damn near made a fool of myself. Took a furry knee to the ribs and dropped my maul...on my own foot. Like you said, pain gets things done. I got my own back. Killed one of the others. Almost hit somebody's dog in the process. Foot still hurts. Probably nothin'. I'll take care of it after I've passed my initiation into the Guild.

Lonhe dua,
C--

Anka-ri do sen,

I may have pushed it. Foot hurts worse today. Can't really walk. I know, I know--wrap it and put it up. Thought I could walk it out yesterday and ended up goin' with a group to confront some slavers...who turned out not to be slavers. Damn mess, if ya ask me. Wasn't what I thought it was. I was all set to drop heads from Tash, but it was just a couple of boys fightin' over a pregnant girl. Well, that's not quite right. They were those short mer (the ones that eat their own kin). Anyways, we meddled. Girl died givin' birth, baby lived. One fool killed th'other. We left. Somebody sai The text abruptly breaks off in a dark blot surrounding a tear in the parchment. Sorry. Had my foot up. Slipped. Hurt. Gonna lie down. Write more later.

Feelin' better now, a bit. It's light, so I slept for a while. Still have an ale left from last night. I'll get food soon, but I want to finish this first. I keep thinkin' about that time I stood up for Aba. Remember? Got into a big fight with those boys and chased 'em out the alley? Thought I was helpin', but the bastards went cryin' to their parents and they took it out on Aba's mother. You two set me down and said fightin' someone else's battles was the most dangerous kind of work, that I'd never know just how the land lay. You said it better, of course. Somethin' about desert winds movin' grains of sand. Not impossible work, just tricky. You asked if I regretted it, and I did. Then you told me I'd done the best I could with the knowledge I had and that was all right, that I shouldn't ever feel bad about doin' good. Well, I agree with you, sorta. This business with the little mer--we prob'ly shouldn't been near it. Boy came and spun a story that made us want to do good, though. He shifted the grains. We got him in the door. I can't help but think he mightn't've killed the other one if we hadn't been there. Me in particular? I did the right thing, stopped a crotchety, fire-inclined loon from goin' in and makin' things worse. 'Cept it was his daughter-in-law what died and his son what was killed. So I kept him from seein' his family for the last time. Like you said, I did the best I could. But I feel bad for it.

I think it's all right to regret things. The world isn't split evenly 'tween good and bad, right and wrong. Maybe we need to be reminded of that, so we do somethin' good and feel bad, or somethin' bad and feel good. We do the right things for the wrong reasons and the wrong things for the right reasons. And somewhere in it all, we find that middle ground. It ain't comfortable there, but I seem to spend a lot of time in it. Gettin' used to it.

Lonhe dua,
C--

Anka-ri do sen,

Everything hurts. I'll be fine, but...damn. My foot felt a lot better the other day, so I decided to walk 'round the town. Ended up joinin' half the townsfolks on some kind of rescue mission. Not sure who they were tryin' t'get, but there were lots of volunteers. I stuck with the group holdin' the escape path, not that it was easier. Well...maybe. Had a Khajiit nearly dropped on my head. Hurt my arm and shoulder pretty bad. Could'a been worse. There were healers--real ones, with magick--when we made it back to town. Sped up the process considerably. Good 'nough I did some trainin' with the Guild a few days later. Changed my opinion on that Terath fella a mite. He's the one what was blind when I met him. All healed up now. Turns out he's the Steward.

Anyways, he took us to some frozen river, had us do push-ups and sit-ups, split us into teams, and set us to liftin' logs--in the water. I been up in th'mountains a time or two, camped in snow, almost lost fingers and toes. Didn't ever set to playin' in the water, though. He told us goin' to the fire would mean gettin' kicked out the Guild. Same crazy Khajiit what dropped from the sky a few days ago was on my team and passed out. Only come to once somebody started cartin' him to the fire. Damned desperate to stay in. One of th'others had an idea to strip and stand 'round him to warm him up. Yea, you read right. Your sun-child stood naked in the snow, and unless death is nigh, she ain't doin' it again. Couldn't stop shakin' 'til the early morn. Wore every stitch of clothes I had--leathers, too--and damn near lit a fire under the bed.

I'm sure Steward meant to teach a lesson, like any solid leader, but my bones didn't much care what it was. Been thinkin' on it for a couple days. He kept askin' why we was there. Only seemed happy once somebody said we aimed to save lives. Glad I didn't speak up. Not the reason I'm here, and he might've sent me back to the water. But it's naggin' me some. Fightin's jus' what I do. Used to fill up the day, keep me from boredom. Then it was about defendin' my patch. Once I started trainin' proper, well, I wanted to be the best. Make you proud. Got to thinkin' I was the next Saint, though, and figured I should get paid for bein' the best. For a long time, I fought for coin. Took high-risk jobs 'cause I got more from 'em. Kinda went off track, didn't I? I The rest of the line and subsequent two lines of text are scratched out, the bled ink obscuring all but a few stray tips of letters.

I'll fix this. Promise.

Lonhe dua,
C--