I wanted to put miles between me and my father. I wanted to drown his words out of my mind with action. And I had to leave that same day to meet Avulstein at Northwatch Keep. First though, I had another large haul of Imperial swords and armor to sell off. I headed over to the Skyforge to sell them to Eorlund.
He wasn’t there. The Skyforge was hot, and there was a scattering of weapons laying about in various states of repair, but no smith. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, Eorlund;” I said aloud. “Daylight is burning. Where the Oblivion are you?”
If it had been earlier, I would have thought he had gone home to eat. There was always the possibility he was in Jorvasskr, but I hesitated to enter there just to look for the smith. I have great respect for the Companions, but… somehow I prefer to talk to them one at a time, and on my own turf.
With a curse of frustration, I headed down to the Plains District to do business with the Imperial woman, Adrienne Avenicci. The thing that really killed me was that I was going to sell her Imperial armor and swords—the very thing she needed to fulfill her contract with the Battle-borns.
“Balgruuf the Younger,” she greeted me. “I’m honored. I believe this is the first time you have ever visited my forge. How are you this fine day?” Bang! Bang! She pounded on a red hot iron rod in the forge.
“I’ve had better days,” I grumped.
“So…” Bang! “Have…” Bang! “I!” She agreed. She pulled the rod out of the fire and set it aside to air cool. “I was being sarcastic.” She picked up another rod, which already showed signs of having been worked once, and thrust it into the fire. “I’ve got a huge order to fill which I don’t feel good about, and my clients—whom I don’t like—keep harassing me while I’m trying to work.”
“Really? I’m surprised to hear that,” I told her. “I had imagined you would be glad to provide weapons for the Legion.”
“Under other circumstances, I would,” she agreed. “I believe in the Empire, but Skyrim is my home, and I’d rather not see it torn apart. What’s more, I am as disappointed by the White Gold Concordat as any nord. By the Nine, I wish these weapons were to be used against the Thalmor!”
I was shocked by her vehemence. It was nothing I had ever imagined hearing from her lips. “Then why do you not forge weapons for Ulfric Stormcloak?” I challenged.
“HA!” she scoffed. “If Ulfric becomes High King, I think he will kick me out of Skyrim before the Thalmor.”
I could not deny that, though hearing the sadness in her voice, I found myself wanting to. “I truly hope that is not so,” I told her. I forced myself back to business. “Well anyway, I may be able to help with your current contract.” I started stacking weapons and armor on her workbench. Her eyes widened and she stepped over to examine them.
“Yes, I can use these, thank you.” she said. “Got some good pieces out here if you’re looking to trade—more inside.” She stepped back to the forge, pushed her hands back into her heavy leather gloves, and began hammering on the now red hot rod. Bang! Bang!
My eye was drawn to the dagger she was forging—the way the color changed when she struck it, the precision of her movements...
She noticed me watching. “Care to try?” she asked. Before I could object, she had shoved my hands into a pair of bulky leather gloves, and was guiding me like a child through the process of shaping a blade. When she felt me begin to get the rhythm, she let go and let me finish up a clumsy-ugly dagger blade with a lumpy tang. “Not bad for a first attempt,” she allowed. “Now try to quench just the cutting edge in the bucket—keep the backbone dry, so it cools more slowly and stays flexible. Good, let it finish cooling and then sharpen it on the grindstone.” I set it on the edge of the forge, completely forgetting my impatience to be off.
“If you kept practicing, you’d make a decent smith,” she said. “You’ve got the feel for it.”
“Thank you, that was just what I needed today,” I said, my mood improved. “ I have often watched Eorlund work the Skyforge, but he’s never allowed me to try my hand at it.”
“Eorlund Gray-mane is a master, and the Skyforge is a national treasure. I’m not surprised he’s protective of it.” She waved a hand at my armor. “I guess you’ve taken a side in the war?”
I gave her a very small nod. “You’ll be happy to know though that my immediate plans are to go kick some Thalmor out of Skyrim.”
“Really? I have something for you in that case,” she said enthusiastically, and led me into the shop. She rummaged around behind the counter while I spoke to her hired man about getting paid for my goods. “Here it is!” She pulled out a bow of elven make.
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not really much of an archer. Doesn’t look like your style,” I added as I inspected it.
“It’s not one of mine,” she admitted. “I’m not giving you the bow so much as the enchantment on it. It saps magicka from the target. Might be useful against the Thalmor. If you like, disenchant this and put the enchantment on your sword.”
“Ah, yes I see,” I said with interest. “Adrienne…” I have misjudged you, I wanted to say, but instead I finished up with, “I am glad I came by today.”
“As am I. Will you do me a favor in turn?” she asked. She pulled a greatsword out from behind the counter. “This is my best work. I made it for your father, and I wondered if you would do me the honor of presenting it to him?”
I took the blade and admired it. Sharp, well balanced, beautifully etched and engraved, it was flawless so far as my eye could see. “I don’t know that Eorlund Gray-mane could have done better.” I held it out for her to take back. “But I doubt I am your best choice to give it to him. My father and I are not on the best of terms right now.”
She wouldn’t take it back. “Then take it to my father. He’ll know the best time to present it to the jarl.”
It’s hard to explain why I agreed. I wanted to be out of town, and I particularly did not want to go back to Dragonreach, but I felt a need to do something good for Adrienne Avenicci before I returned to the Stormcloaks. I might never have the chance again.
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