Love and Bounty

Chapter Ten: Settling Things

Deeja's steady gait over the uneven terrain of the rugged Karth riverbank was accompanied by gentle sways of her tail, back and forth like a pendulum. That tail of hers must have been quite muscular to shatter a chair leg into splinters.

Would it be rude if Hrolf asked why Argonians had tails?

Aye, that would definitely be rude.

He and Deeja had departed from the Grotto without delay. Well, with little delay. Sharai, who triumphed over Blackblood after Blackblood via arm wrestling, had caught them on the way out and asked to go with them. Deeja resisted for a time, and her tail coiled around the closest discarded bottle as she did, but after Sharai insisted she wouldn't be long, the prickly Argonian begrudgingly relented. So much for questioning Deeja in any kind of privacy—at least at first. Hrolf would just have to be patient.

"Half of those Blackbloods don't bathe," Sharai chuffed, continuing her story about the bandits lined up to defeat her. "I have to use fire spells to get the stink off after competitions like that."

"It doesn't surprise me that so many stink like troll's breath," Hrolf said with a chuckle. "But why challenge them like that?"

The Redguard smiled. "It keeps them humble," she said. "Not only did an outlander best them, but that outlander is a woman." Sharai let out a booming laugh that rolled across the Karth. "It just burns some of them up—I love to see it."

Deeja sniggered, and her tail swayed with a little more enthusiasm. That must have been approval.

"Sadly, that also doesn't surprise me," Hrolf tittered. "The whole culture of the Blackbloods just... confuses me."

Sharai's brow perked up. "Why's that?"

Hrolf took a moment to take inventory. It was a lot. He'd give her the short version. "Many don't seem eager to talk, even to one of their kinsmen, which is a surprise."

The Redguard snorted, quickly bringing a hand to her mouth. "Are all of you Nords friends no matter where you go or something?"

Deeja peered back at them with a flick of her tail.

Captain Hargar came to mind. He seemed insufferable, and there was no excuse Hrolf could conjure for how he treated Deeja. "No, of course not."

The Argonian leading them faced forward once more. Pray you didn't just mess up, Hrolf.

"Then what gives?" Sharai asked. "Why expect them to be your friends?"

Hrolf looked to the sky for answers. The puffy clouds above and trickles of wind from across the Karth gave him one. "All Nords are children of Kyne," he said. "But not all of us see it that way. That can put us at odds, even if our spirits are the same."

"Kyne?" Sharai's expression scrunched with mild recollection. "Isn't that what you Nords call Kynareth?"

Fury flashed in Hrolf's whole body like a column of lightning had just struck him. Kyne and Kynareth were not the same—Ma and Pa were sure to tell him that. The Warrior-Widow was no meek garden-tender, but the shield-bearing mother of men and beasts, and that mother walked with him because Ma couldn't.

Hrolf limited his ire to a frown. "Kynareth is an Imperial parody of Kyne," he growled. "True Nords know that Kyne's breath gave us life. I don't care what those bastards in Cyrodiil have to say about it."

Sharai's eyebrows darted up her forehead. "Alright, touchy subject," she muttered. "My bad."

The displeased Nord took a breath to calm himself as the wind billowed through his hair. "No worries. No harm done."