Just across the river from Whiterun, atop a small hill, was a ring of tall stones. They had passed it on their way in, but hadn’t investigated it. Dagnell was curious, though, and when they arrived at the first of several ancient stone arches leading to the hilltop, she pointed to the henge and started up the path.
It was a magnificent view of the plain surrounding Whiterun, even better than the place on the roadway where she’d first seen it. She was eager to see the view from the top, and scampered up the trail.
“Wait,” she heard Roggi say behind her.
She turned back to look at him just as an arrow struck her in the left arm, the pain blinding her for a moment. Its force set her off balance, stumbling several paces backward down the path and almost driving her to the ground. Roggi rushed past her, sword high, shouting “Oh, no you don’t!”
Dag heard the unmistakable sound of an ice spell splattering against the ground just beyond him, and the crack of bone as his sword struck its target. She scrambled up the path, drawing one of her scimitars, to find two reanimated skeletons closing in on Roggi, a third in pieces at his feet, and a mage – a necromancer, no doubt – ducking in and out behind an ornately designed stone, casting ice spikes at him. Wincing at the pain in her arm but having no time to tend to it, she threw herself at the nearest skeleton. Its attention was on Roggi, and she slashed at it just as it was drawing its bow to fire at him. It fell to pieces at her feet.
Roggi whirled to dodge an ice spike and managed to clip the third skeleton. It staggered, giving Dag just enough of an opening to run forward and finish it off.
“You made a mistake coming here!” she heard behind her, and rolled forward on her good side, barely ahead of another frost spell. Looking back, she saw that Roggi had taken advantage of the mage’s attention being on Dag; he rushed the mage, putting all the force of his shoulder into her back and sending her sprawling onto her stomach. He lifted his blade over her and stabbed it straight down, finishing her.
Dag stood, gritting her teeth against the pain of her arm. Damn, she thought as she examined it. A hole in my new leathers. It can be repaired, but…
“Here, let’s get that arrow out,” Roggi said, walking up to her.
“Yeah, I think we’d better.”
He grasped her shoulder with one hand and the arrow with the other. “Ready?” he asked, studying her face. “This is going to hurt.”
Dag nodded. “I know.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth and strength of Roggi’s hand holding her shoulder firm. “Do it.”
Things went red for just a moment as Roggi yanked the arrow from her arm; in spite of her resolve to be tough she shrieked. She opened her eyes and immediately started casting healing on the wound.
“Well that was not how I’d envisioned starting the day,” she muttered as the pain began to subside.
“Not at all,” Roggi said. Then he chuckled. “Still, that went pretty well, all things considered.”
Dag grimaced. “If I didn’t hurt so much I’d have to smack you for that,” she said. Roggi was failing to contain a grin, and as she looked at him, she started chuckling. “I guess you’re right. They’re dead and we’re not. It’s hard to argue with that. Hey, do you know what this thing is?” she asked, nodding toward the ornately carved stone. It had a conical top with a large hole in the middle.
“It’s one of the old Standing Stones,” Roggi said, examining it. “They’re all over. They’re supposed to have some sort of magical power. Just another story, I think.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “On the other hand, I thought dragons and Shouts were just a story, too.”
“Well I certainly don’t know what to think about any of this,” Dag said. “But my arm is mostly better and we need to continue.” She looked up at the sky; the sun was nearly overhead. Between meeting Dardeh and this adventure with the mage, they hadn’t gotten very far; she’d gotten wounded and wasn’t going to be able to keep up their normal pace without some rest. “I’ll be more careful about just wandering into interesting places from here on.” She looked the mage over. The woman had only a few coins and a bit of food in her robes, all of which Dag was happy to claim. One did not leave coins on the table.
They started back toward the east, walking in silence and more slowly than usual because Dag was feeling quite drained. She shot an occasional glance at Roggi, none of which he seemed to notice. How is it, she wondered, that a guy who claimed to be nothing more than a simple miner was so good with a sword and bow, and knew what to do with her arrow wound without a moment’s hesitation? She started thinking about their first few conversations, and pictured him in Kynesgrove. Suddenly something occurred to her.
“Roggi,” she asked, “I’m curious about something. I know you said your family has always been in Kynesgrove, but I only saw you in town while I was there. Is the rest of the clan away somewhere else?”
He frowned, and didn’t look at her, but he positively growled. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he spat between clenched teeth. His tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to elaborate.
Dag was taken aback.
The only other time Roggi had been short with her was the first time they’d met, when he had gotten angry about his inn debt. There’s something major here, Dag thought, and it isn’t good. He had a home there in Kynesgrove, but he was alone in it and drinking away every septim he made and then some. Away – in a manner of speaking. That could simply mean he’d had a falling out with his family. On the other hand, her parents were away, in a manner of speaking, too.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Roggi suddenly pulled his bow and, with a single arrow, took down a wolf she hadn’t even seen approaching. He barely missed a stride. She stared at him, amazed. “You are really good at that, you know. That was impressive.” He nodded and made an expression that might have been intended as a smile but fell far short.
They walked along in silence for some time; nothing Dag could think of to say would be anything other than an annoyance, she was sure, and she didn’t want to raise the tension level if she could help it. Every so often she glanced at Roggi. He seemed to be relaxing, but there was none of his usual banter. She hadn’t realized how much she had come to enjoy that mindless chatter. Just as Dag was beginning to resign herself to a silent afternoon, Roggi spoke.
“Sorry about before,” he said. It wasn’t much, but he at least didn’t sound like he was about to take her head off. That, at least, was a relief. She just nodded. She didn’t want to risk upsetting him again.
They continued on past the towers and high bridge, and down into the river valley. Just as the shadows began growing longer, they reached the abandoned prison.
“Roggi, I think we’re going to need to make an early camp. I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”
He looked at her, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I will be. That arrow took more out of me than I realized. But I need to stop now rather than pushing on.”
“Right. You sit down and I’ll see whether I can catch some fish and make a fire.”
Dag sat down, gratefully. She would be fine after some rest and food, but right then she needed to simply sit. She watched in silence, listening to the river, and to the birds discussing their day. Roggi puttered about, setting up a small cook fire, then disappeared down the bank of the river. He wasn’t gone long.
“That went well,” he said, smiling, and holding up two fat fish. “They were jumping. Dinner will be shortly.”
The entire time they were eating, Dag’s mind was racing. She had the barest of inklings about what had happened to Roggi, and it was going to drive her crazy until she could confirm it. But how to raise the issue again? Finally, after they were done and sitting quietly by the fire, she spoke up. It was going to be awkward, and probably really obvious, but she had to try it.
“You know,” she began, easing into the topic as gently as possible, “I never told you much about me, except what happened with J’hall and the short end to our little caravan. I mean things about me from before I ended up beating you up that day.”
Roggi looked at her and laughed. Good, that meant maybe he was open to talking again. He had seemed friendly enough while they were having their meal, but she didn’t want to inadvertently make things worse again. She smiled at him and then looked back at the fire.
“So, my grand story is that I was born on Stros M’Kai. Grew up working at the docks, gutting fish, odd jobs here and there, that sort of thing.” She snorted. “Everyone I’ve met since I left home assumes I’m from somewhere on the mainland. It’s annoying. It’s like they forget we exist except in the old songs.”
“Really? Well you have travelled a lot, then.”
She sighed. “Not until relatively recently, when I finally had enough coin to come see the rest of the world. A couple of years now. It was too hard just trying to outlast my childhood, and there’s no money for travelling when you’re just trying to stay alive and keep some food in your belly, all on your own.”
He looked at her, surprised. “On your own?”
She nodded. Now to find out what’s what. “Yeah. Bandits, when I was just little. I mean, I was so little that I could hide in tiny spaces and not get caught. My parents… were not so lucky.” She shrugged. “So you do what you have to do, and that’s what I’ve done for all these years. Will it keep me alive and fed and reasonably content? That’s pretty much all that matters. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me, but that’s how it is.”
Roggi nodded, his face grim, then frowned into the fire pit. Yes, Dag thought. I was on to something there. Then he took a deep breath and spoke, softly, as though from a distance. Dag knew that tone of voice.
“That is why I hate bandits. I told you I wandered around a bit. I … did what had to be done. Or at least what I thought had to be done at the time. It actually took me a long little while, but every last one of them got what he deserved.” He paused and shook his head. “Probably more than they deserved, actually. I’m not proud of it. I figured that a true Nord would avenge his people. But sometimes I wonder what makes me any different from them.” He sighed. “Then I went back to Kynesgrove and grabbed a pickaxe. And that’s about all that needs to be said about that.”
Dag was saddened. So there really had been some kind of bad run-in with bandits, as she had suspected. It almost didn’t matter what the details were. She wondered who in his family he had lost; most of them, she would wager, based on what he had said earlier. It was hard to picture him doing violence for revenge, but there it was. She sighed. There was one certainty, though: what made Roggi better than the bandits, revenge or not, was that he was a good man who cared whether or not he did the right thing.
“Well I’m very sorry that we have that in common, Roggi. I was quite content with sharing a short fuse, a wicked punch, and an appreciation for good mead.”
He looked at her, startled, then tossed back his head and laughed, his eyes twinkling again. “That we do.”
She grinned at him, then reached over and squeezed his hand, a gesture that brought another smile to his face. My dear Roggi, she thought. You’ve been carrying that around by yourself for far too long. I’m glad you shared it with me. I’m glad we understand each other.
Dag took first watch while Roggi slept. She was impressed with how relaxed he looked. The man slept like a rock. I wonder when the last time was that I slept like that, except for when I was utterly exhausted, she thought. Maybe if I dropped some of my secrets I’d sleep better, too.
She fed more sticks into the fire and listened to the sounds of the river rushing down out of the mountains.