Oathbreaker

VI: The Half-Elf and his Father

After a few hours of walking down the dusty road, being passed by wagons driven by folks not kind enough to stop and offer the half-elf a ride home, Jerod finally arrived at his family's cottage. He walked up the main path from the road, and as the cottage came into view between the trees, Jerod saw his elderly human father, Gerold, tending to a still frightened Deedra. He'd taken both deer from her and laid them in front of the front steps of the house. He had her saddle off and was petting her, trying to get her to calm down.

"Good morning, Father." Jerod called as he approached. Gerold turned to see his son, and smiled.

"I say, Boy. What in the hell did you see out on that road? This ol' lady hasn't been this spooked since we got attacked by bandits a few years back." Gerold said with a cheerful laugh.

"Goblins, apparently. Never seen one in my life, and suddenly there's two of them chasing me on worgs and a few on foot as well. Shot them all dead though." Jerod lied. Gerold shook his head and sighed.

"I tell ya son, I'm gettin' too old for this." Gerold said. He grabbed Deedra's reigns and led her into the stables. Jerod walked over to the two deer carcasses, grabbed one and lifted it onto his shoulder. He carried the game to the table where he usually butchered his kills, set it down on the table, the retrieved the other. By the time Jerod was finished carrying the second deer to the table, Gerold had walked over from the stables to the table.

"Two of 'em?" Gerold questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye sir. Got some orders I needed to fill in Laria. These two should be just what I need." Jerod said, drawing a large butcher's knife from his pack. His father helped him skin both animals and break them down into various parts. Most of the meat from both animals would go to the inns and taverns to feed their customers. The pelts would go to the tanners, and the bones and antlers would go to the alchemist in town for her potions.

It was around sunset when the two finished processing the deer. Gerold had taken some of the venison and began making a stew for the two of them to enjoy. Jerod sat down on a chair in the kitchen of the cottage, still sore from the tumble he'd taken off of Deedra that morning. He lifted his tunic and saw a huge bruise developing on his left side, the side he'd landed on.

"Where in the hells did you get that?" Gerold asked, turning from his cookpot to also see the bruise on Jerod.

"I fell off Deed. Got his by a branch. Hurts like a bastard." Jerod cursed. Gerold walked into another room, and returned shortly after with a healing potion.

"Here, I made these today." Gerold said with a smile as he handed his son the glass bottle filled with red liquid. Jerod smiled back at his father, popped the top of the bottle off and drank the liquid inside. He coughed and gagged on the flavor of it. Gerold chuckled.

"After all the years of you making these things, you'd think you could've found a way to make them taste better than this." Jerod joked. Gerold ignored him and continued to cook his stew. The two sat for a moment in silence, letting the bubbling of the broth in the cauldron be the only sound in the room.

"Any idea when she'll be back?" Jerod asked his father. Gerold turned around, a pained look on his face.

"I've no idea, Son." He signed. He pulled up a seat next to Jerod and sat down.

"What's it been? Two months?" Jerod questioned. Gerold shook his head.

"Month and a half. But still, no letter or nothing yet." Gerold said, with a slight smile that Jerod knew held back pain. Jerod placed his hand on his father's hand.

"Her visits to Avarta have only seemed to grow longer and longer over the years." Jerod said. Gerold nodded, all too familiar with the trend of his wife being gone for so long.