He knocked on the door and had no answer.<\/p>\n
He\u2019d been at home relaxing after work one evening a few days earlier when he\u2019d opened his door to a similar knock and found a balding Breton standing there. \u201cI need to talk to you,\u201d he\u2019d said.\u00a0 And they had talked, for a long time.\u00a0 What he\u2019d been told had made him angry at first, then profoundly sad and tired, tired to his bones.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know what else to do,\u201d the man had said. \u201cI can\u2019t do his job. It wouldn\u2019t work. Do I look like the leadin\u2019 type? Too many people know me, and besides, I need to keep the goods flowing. We need him and he\u2019s just not respondin\u2019 to anyone.\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019ll talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
So he had gone to Riften.\u00a0 He had put his things in order and set off down the road.<\/p>\n
He despised Riften. Almost everything about the place had bad memories associated with it. It ripped at his gut like a hagraven\u2019s claws just thinking about Riften. He\u2019d lost so much because of Riften. He\u2019d gone there a few times in the past months, to visit friends, but even then it had been hard. There was so much there that represented everything he hated, even though he\u2019d met people he liked very much. He didn\u2019t want to go to Riften.<\/p>\n
And yet, he was needed.<\/p>\n
So he had gone to Riften.\u00a0 He had put on his armor, shouldered the greatsword he\u2019d swung until his muscles had hardened, knowing that he never wanted to be weak again; and he had trudged down the road, killing wolves along the way.<\/p>\n
He knocked on the door again.\u00a0 Still there was no answer.<\/p>\n
He tried the knob, but the door was locked.\u00a0 So he sighed, looked around to be certain he wasn\u2019t being watched, knelt down, and went to work on it.\u00a0 It didn\u2019t take long before it clicked open.\u00a0 He smiled grimly.\u00a0 She\u2019d never learned that he could do that, almost better than she could.\u00a0 You had to know the enemy first, before you could take him down, and the easiest way was to look at where he lived. He paused for a moment, his finger tracing the shadowmark scratched into the door.\u00a0 Guild.<\/p>\n
He should have been shocked by what he found inside, but it was sadly familiar to him from personal experience.\u00a0 The house was a wreck, things pulled from shelves and left where they had fallen, intact or broken.\u00a0 It smelled like spoiled food and old sweat.\u00a0 The alchemical plants that had been carefully tended for so many months had wilted and shriveled; they might be saved but to his experienced eye they looked gone. The big man was in a dirty robe, slouched in a chair in front of the fire, surrounded by empty bottles, with one in his hand, his head drooped onto his chest.\u00a0 His beard had grown long, and the state of his hair revealed that he hadn\u2019t bathed in a long time.\u00a0 Eyes flickered toward the door and then back to the fireplace. Well, that was something, at least.<\/p>\n
He sighed, and started picking up the empty bottles, stacking them in an empty crate by the back door.\u00a0 \u201cSo it looks like you haven\u2019t had anything to eat in awhile.\u00a0 Let\u2019s see if we can get something going here.\u00a0 I\u2019m a bit of an expert in this,\u201d he said, waving his hand around the room, \u201cand trust me, it isn\u2019t going to do you any good.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a grunt from the chair behind him.\u00a0 Good.\u00a0 A response.<\/p>\n
He rustled around in the kitchen.\u00a0 He knew this kitchen well enough now to know where things were kept, and he had soon put together an apple-cabbage soup that wasn\u2019t exciting, but would be nourishing.\u00a0 He pulled a seat over and sat down with a bowl of it.<\/p>\n
\u201cOk.\u00a0 You need to eat.\u00a0 Can you do it yourself or do I have to help you?\u201d<\/p>\n
The green eyes that met his were dull, reddened.\u00a0 He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d\u00a0 It was a raspy sound.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. You have to eat.\u00a0 Listen, I have been through this more than once.\u00a0 You\u2019re going to die if you don\u2019t eat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n
He couldn\u2019t help it, he got angry.<\/p>\n
\u201cYsmir\u2019s backside, Brynjolf, you can\u2019t do this to yourself.\u00a0 People need<\/em> you.\u00a0 If I could pull myself back together so can you.\u201d<\/p>\n Brynjolf shook his head again.<\/p>\n He growled.\u00a0 I should be happy that you\u2019re like this,<\/em> he thought. I should be excited that the Thieves Guild is just going to crumble away because Delvin won\u2019t take charge and you\u2019re sitting here crawling into a bottle to die, but I\u2019m not.\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n He cared about this man.\u00a0 He had cared about him from the moment they\u2019d met months earlier, in Kynesgrove. There was something about him; his rough, unsavory, and frankly frightening exterior didn\u2019t quite cover a deep pool of intelligence and kindness, fairness and loyalty that spoke to him. Yes<\/em>, he thought. You\u2019re my friend and I care about you, no matter how much it hurts<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, damn your hide,\u201d he said. \u201cEither you eat or I\u2019ll force it down your gods damned throat. I don\u2019t think you could take me right now, and I\u2019ll do it if I have to.\u201d<\/p>\n Brynjolf looked down at his left hand, clenched into a fist, and opened it slowly, fingers stiff as though he\u2019d been holding them like that for weeks.\u00a0 Inside was an ornate ring, one that matched the ring he wore on his own hand.\u00a0 He looked up and cleared his throat.<\/p>\n \u201cRoggi, she\u2019s left us, lad.\u00a0 She\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n Us. So he knows. I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m surprised. He could probably see it every time I looked at her.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI know, Bryn. Delvin told me.\u201d<\/p>\n The big man buried his head in his hands and began to weep, quietly at first and then a full-throated sobbing.<\/p>\n Roggi was stunned.\u00a0 He had never considered what it would be like to see Brynjolf cry, but there he was, crying as though his world had ended, his broad shoulders shaking with the effort of allowing the emotion to escape.\u00a0 Maybe it was that he was weak from lack of food and too much drink.\u00a0 Maybe it was too many years of a hard life and he was just too tired to fight it any more.\u00a0 Maybe it was just that they shared in this thing, and he knew that and could allow himself that bit of vulnerability. For whatever reason, the tears had finally caught up to him.<\/p>\n Roggi put the bowl of soup on the mantle, pulled his chair closer, and wrapped his arms around the big Nord\u2019s shoulders, just holding him.<\/p>\n It was a familiar pain to Roggi, the pain of loss, the struggle to let go of it. He\u2019d been there. It had taken him months before he\u2019d been able to weep, months in which something had emerged from the depths of him and wrought bloody havoc on the thieves and bandits who had ruined his life. And then when he had been able to cry he\u2019d done it for so long and so hard that the only thing that helped was drinking himself into a stupor so that he couldn\u2019t feel anything at all. He didn\u2019t know whether it was a familiar feeling for Brynjolf or not.\u00a0 It didn\u2019t matter. Brynjolf needed to cry, before the rest of it killed him.<\/p>\n Because, as Maramal would tell any soul who came to him looking to be married, life in Skyrim was hard, and short.<\/p>\n After a time Roggi fed Brynjolf some soup, led him downstairs and set him in the tub, joining him to help him get cleaned up, because he was as weak as though he was ill.\u00a0 He washed Brynjolf\u2019s hair and his back and trimmed back his hair and his beard. He found a couple of clean robes in the bedroom Brynjolf had shared with Dag and put himself in one and Bryn in the other, and then he led Brynjolf back upstairs and fed him more.\u00a0 Brynjolf didn\u2019t speak again, but he at least acquiesced to being cared for.\u00a0 Maybe that\u2019s a good sign, Roggi thought. Gods knew he\u2019d had to take care of his brothers in the service often enough, when it got too much for them to take and they fell apart. He could surely do it again. He could do that much for his friend.<\/p>\n Brynjolf was beginning to look sleepy, as he began to sober up and the food warmed him from the inside out.\u00a0 Roggi watched him and pondered the absurd life they had.<\/p>\n Here was a man who should be his enemy, who represented everything he despised in the world, who did things he couldn\u2019t abide, every day, and who had married the woman he loved.\u00a0 And yet that man had a big enough soul to know that they were all three inescapably tangled together, and to quietly accept it. He had known, from the very beginning.\u00a0 He had given her every chance in the world to change her mind, knowing that it was doomed from the start because none of the three of them could escape the others. He should hate me, Roggi thought. He should hate me with every fiber of his being, but he doesn\u2019t.\u00a0 He treats me like a brother.\u00a0 And I care about him.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on,\u201d he said, rising and tugging on Brynjolf\u2019s arm.\u00a0 \u201cYou need some sleep and so do I.\u00a0 It\u2019s been a long day.\u201d<\/p>\n Brynjolf nodded and followed Roggi down the stairs to his bedroom, then allowed himself to be tucked in.\u00a0 Roggi turned to leave for the small room that was across the hall, but a hand on his arm stopped him.<\/p>\n \u201cNo lad.\u00a0 Stay here tonight.\u00a0 I need to not be alone.\u00a0 I don\u2019t want to do something foolish, and I\u2019m afraid that I will.\u201d<\/p>\n Roggi stood and looked at him for a long few moments. Was it this house, that made people ask him to stay? Then he nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right.\u201d<\/p>\n He untied his hair, slid into bed beside Brynjolf and lay looking at the canopy over it, acutely aware of being where she had slept every night, of her scent clinging to the pillow and the bedding. He pondered again how odd their lives had become.\u00a0 Between the two of them, though, it was very warm under the bedclothes, and he found himself drifting off when Brynjolf\u2019s rumble woke him again.<\/p>\n \u201cLad.\u201d<\/p>\n Lad, Roggi thought, amused.\u00a0 I\u2019m probably almost as old as he is.<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll find her, won\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope so, Bryn.\u00a0 We at least have to try. We\u2019ll do it together, ok?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMmmm.\u201d<\/p>\n Later, motion woke him. Brynjolf was snoring gently, spooned against his back, one arm over him.<\/p>\n If it gives him some comfort, he thought, so be it. I don\u2019t mind. We have work to do in the morning.<\/p>\n He smiled and went back to sleep.<\/p>\n He knocked on the door and had no answer. He\u2019d been at home relaxing after work one evening a few days earlier when he\u2019d opened his door to a similar knock and found a balding Breton standing there. \u201cI need to talk to you,\u201d he\u2019d said.\u00a0 And they had talked, for a long time.\u00a0 What … <\/p>\n