A Jester and His Boy

7.) The Twins

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone of the Elder Scroll series. I did not create Skyrim, though if I did, Cicero's jester outfit would have an awesome armor rating. (I hate changing him out of his outfit.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We were moving south on the road again towards Whiterun. I was sitting next to Papa as he was quietly humming to himself and I enjoyed the scenery. It was warm and very few clouds were in the sky. I was letting my eyes wander, when they landed 0on the largest mountain I've ever seen. It was just southeast of Whiterun.

"Papa?" I asked.

"Yeees?" he answered happily.

I pointed to the mountain and asked, "What's that reeeaally BIG mountain over there?"

"Hmmm, I believe it's called 'The Throat of the World.' It's the biggest mountain in all of Skyrim as well, I think."

I turned to look at him. "You're not sure?"

He looked at me, then back to the road. "Cicero is not from this country and has only heard its name a few times."

I was confused. "You're not from here?"

"No no no no no. Cicero is from a country south of Skyrim. It is called 'Cyrodiil.'"

"'She-ro-deal?'"

"See. Roh. Dill. Cyrodiil."

"Ooh. Heh heh..." I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. He smiled and pat my head. "So what's Cyrodiil like?" I asked.

"It's a very nice place. Quite different from Skyrim, yet they have similarities.

Cyrodiil has many forests and some swamp areas. We also have a nice coastline. The temperature is nice and we don't get much snow."

"Which do you like better? Skyrim or Cyrodiil?" I asked.

"Hmmm, well, Cicero likes Skyrim. It's a very nice and beautiful place. However, Cicero does very much like his homeland."

"Can I go to Cyrodiil one day Papa?"

"Hmmm, perhaps. But Skyrim is where we are now."

A pause. I wanted to ask him more questions while he was in such an answering mood. "What are the people of Cyrodiil like?"

"The native people of Cyrodiil are called 'Imperials.' We are very smart, skilled fighters, and excellent shopkeepers, but we're..."

"...smaller than everyone else?"

Papa laughed. "Cicero likes to think of Imperials as 'fun-sized.' Heh heh heh! Cicero has no doubt that you will grow to be taller than him one day." He pat my head.

Another pause. I looked up at Papa and noticed his face was ragged and tired. He had light purple marks under his eyes-which were almost half shut at the moment.

"Papa..."

"Hmmm?" he inquired.

"When did you last sleep?"

His laughter was sudden. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaa!!!"

I was confused again.

"Oh Dovah, there is no need to be concerned for me!"

"...you you didn't answer my question Papa."

He looked at me with tender eyes. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer to him. "Cicero sleeps when everything is safe and when there is nothing to worry about. So, never." He laughed again, then sighed. "Cicero does indeed sleep, but only likes to do so when things are safe."