Always Lost, Always Hopeful (226) Remember to Long

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SPOILER INFO
This fanfic novel is largely based on the events that occurred in an actual game of Skyrim I played. Therefore, it's inevitably a spoiler.
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previous day






4-202-04-02 07:02
The Grinning Goblin Inn, Karthwasten, The Reach, Skyrim

Without waiting for the shops to open, we run north-northwest. On the other side of the mountains, we find a river where we can wash. Then we continue our journey.

No one attacks us and soon we are seeing the Orc village of Mor Khazgur.

Yeah, not in this picture. It's to our right, a hundred meters away.
Sabercats seem to enjoy themselves in this area.

In the village, we get some training in Blocking . To be honest, I don't block in real combat (I don't think I've ever carried a shield), but even the skills you don't directly need help you become a better all-round warrior. Parts of the brain that are normally idle begin to work, like my father used to say... er... as I suddenly remember.

Then I buy some ingredients from a very impressive-looking alchemist Sharamph.

Curiously enough, they have some of those large brown stones with strange yellow patterns in the village. I used to think they have been created by giants. Well, maybe the Orcs have taken them from the giants.

After admiring the nice view from near the mine, we leave for Dragonbridge. After a while, we get attacked by the forns and I actually succeed in chopping one's head off. That was awesome!

Then we arrive at a massive stone structure.

Up a stone staircase is a man who shouts to us to leave. Very well. At least he's civil enough to warn rather than just attack. We turn around and continue our journey to the east.

We won't stay long in Dragonbridge. Just quick visits to the shops and the inn. We're actually headed for Folgunthur (the green dot on the map below). It's got to do with the legend of Gauldur. I can't remember if I've told you: Gauldur was someone very important in the distant past. He had three sons who turned evil. One of them rose up from the dead and attacked us when we were in Saarthal. Folgunthur is where another one is supposed to be buried. I've gotten curious to find out more about this story.

We're about to leave the marketplace east of the river when Lydia suggests that actually we ought to visit Solitud as well.

She's right. Being so close to the capital of Skyrim, it would be somewhat inappropriate to fail to visit Elisif and Sybille. And now I remember one more thing. When we were returning from Doltania, we saw from up in the air that there was quite a large island northeast of Solitud (the orange dot on the map). Even Jordis didn't know about its existence. I've been wanting to check it out and today is a perfect opportunity to do it after we've shown ourselves in the palace and made sure there's nothing urgent requiring our help.

<A> – Abandoned Shack where I was Astrid's prisoner briefly.
<U> – Ustengrav where we went to look for that ancient horn for the Gaybores.
Geographically, Folgunthur is very close to the Blue Palace, but they're actually not connected.
You can only get from one to the other by a detour through the harbor.

We hang around in Solitud's southwestern suburb for a while and then enter the city proper. The inn is full of people and we, presumed tragically lost, are greeted with staggering enthusiasm. I'd like to tell my followers something I remembered on our way here, but this is hopeless. In fact, I'm having a tough time getting us out of the inn again, but I want to explore that island before it gets dark. It's a quarter to 2 now, so we should have plenty of time.

It begins to rain just as we exit by the eastern gate. Can't be helped. Fortunately, the island is not far. It looks smaller than I had presumed. From the mainland, we can see no signs of anything interesting. It seems to be just a piece of rock. Before taking a closer look, though, we're going to check out a ship a little way farther to the north.

The ship turns out nothing special. Just bandits. Corsairs, sorry. That means seagoing bandits.

Nearby is the Solitude Lighthouse (which you can also see in the picture above). It's kept by a Khajiit man Ma'zaka, old by his own words, but quite vital-looking.

Further northeast, more islands can be faintly seen through the fog. They look completely lifeless and uninviting. Maybe we'll visit them some other time. But now we head back, pass the corsair ship and check out that mysterious island (on the left):

There is absolutely nothing to see on it apart from horkers. I find a place somewhat higher where we won't disturb the amusing animals, and invite the girls to sit down.
"I remembered how I lost my virginity," I inform them.
They're all ears. I think they're even holding their breaths. You may be thinking that this is not a very comfortable place for sitting and talking, but the rain has ceased and I'm feeling like I'm glowing with warmth.
I tell them all about it. I was 17. His name was Quiston. I had sucked him off, like, twenty times, but I wouldn't let him even touch me down there – firstly because I was afraid of pain and secondly because my mother thought a girl ought get married a virgin. It was a custom in the part of Morrowind where she was from. She didn't tell me anything about oral sex being allowed or not, and I considered it wiser not to ask. Petrille thought my mom was weirdly conservative.
Mind you, I still cast Contraception  every time before meeting Quiston, just in case. (BTW, I was baffled when I learned that Breton mothers actually taught that spell to their daughters. In case you didn't know, practically all Bretons have some magical abilities.)
Petrille had done it with seven boys by the time she was 17. Or actually five with whom she had proper sex, and just handjobs with two. I too had satisfied two boys with my hand and sucked one, but not all the way. It got hard and became uncomfortable in my mouth and I didn't know what to do, and in fact I was afraid he might pee into my mouth. I didn't tell him that, I just said I can't suck with my mouth so wide open. We finally settled for me dancing naked in front of him while he finished with his own hand.
Quiston was easier to suck. I suppose his was thinner than the last boy's. I can't really remember at this moment. Neither can I remember those at least ten boys I had been in love with without doing anything.
Anyway, one beautiful day when I was almost feeling like 18 already, Quiston said: "Yes, Laura, it will hurt, but you must endure it sooner or later like every woman has." And he forced my legs apart. Then he didn't do anything, just stood there on his knees, holding my legs apart, easily overpowering me, and watched me. He didn't look at my pubes which I had covered with my hands, he just looked into my eyes. And then I gave up trying to press my legs back together, and raised my arms above my head. He continued looking me in the eyes for a second as I lied before him, open and limp, waiting. Then he nodded ever so slightly and looked down onto my openness. And he caressed my thighs and pubic mound and everything with his hands. And then he bent forward and put his hands down on both sides of my shoulders... and broke me. It went effortlessly. I guess I was wet. But it did hurt. I didn't move, just watched the expression on his face with utter fascination. Most of the time, he looked at my breasts bouncing in the rhythm of his thrusts, and I observed the vague tiny reflections of my naked body in his eyes.
He didn't kiss me until he had gone all limp on me. Now I touched him. I hugged him with all my strength and thought how weird it is to have something of him remain inside of me. I mean I realized it would probably flow out or something, but still I felt he was now irrevokably a part of me. I thought we'll be together for the rest of our lives – because how can I ever do something like this with another man?
Later when we were getting dressed, his bloody penis looked so strange and I was afraid to touch it for some time to come. Don't ask me why. But we still did it frequently and in many positions during the next year or so. I believe to remember that, apart from that first time, he always did it two or three times in a row, except when we were disturbed or something.
Quiston was two years older than me. I don't remember what he did for a living. I just remember the feeling we weren't seeing each other as often as I would have wanted to. Every meeting seemed kind of special and I always made time for him.

One summer day when we were out in the woods at our favorite spot, he put me face down and forced his way into my butthole. He probably didn't think anything of it. I had always done what he wanted when I didn't have any ideas of my own. So he must have thought why not consecrate, as it were, the last hole as well – "has to be done someday," as he probably would have said. Had we talked about it first, things might have been different. But now he caught me unawares.
I didn't freak out immediately. I believe I was thinking something like: all right, why not try it. But it was incredibly painful and disgustingly weird, and I screamed demanding he leave me alone, and he got scared and pulled out after a few thrusts. I jumped up and ran away. Luckily it was a very secluded place. When I eventually stopped and realized I was naked and began thinking what to do, I saw him following me cautiosly, fully dressed and carrying my clothes. I wouldn't let him get close to me. I must have looked to him like a scared animal. So he just put my clothes down and walked the other way.
I returned to the city where I went to my father's workplace and told him I was going to Cortoran's and probably stay the night. And then I sat with Cortoran at his home and asked him a million questions (without telling him about that incident with Quiston, though). We had never talked about those  things before. My mother had told me everything... well, everything she had told me. But now my brother told me really everything I was able to think of asking about. He actually skipped a day at work because we sat and talked through the night and till the next evening, more than 24 hours in a row, with an occasional break for having a snack or such. I was immensely grateful to him for not asking what this was all about.
I can't remember right now why Cortoran lived separately from our parents, yet didn't have a wife at his home. Maybe he was married and his wife was visiting her parents of something. Maybe he wasn't married yet. I don't remember.
I never met Quiston after that. He left the town a few months later and I never saw him again. I can't remember anything about his parents right now.

"What luck to have had a guy at 17 who would tell you everything and with whom you couldn't have anything sexual!" says Lydia pensively. "As long as a man sees you as as woman, he'll want to bang you and then he'll want to sleep."
"And then he wakes up with a hard-on," adds Jordis. We laugh.
I already know Lydia lost her cherry at 13. When I was a teenager, I couldn't understand how my best friend Petrille could be so carefree about being intimate with boys. I no longer knew how to talk to her or how to behave around her. And later I felt I had abandoned her, my best friend, and I felt guilty, but I didn't know what to do about it. In case you're interested, Petrille got married happily. In fact, she realized at one point that she had gone too far and developed a reputation, so she was very relieved to find that anyone still wanted him for a bride. It was a guy out of town, and in fact he was very happy with her, because she knew how to do everything, and she would do everything. Of course she played innocent at first. And from what I gather, he was too innocent to realize she wasn't.
"Did you tell your mother when you were made a woman?" Jordis asks.
"I did. I mean, I'm sure I did, but I can't remember it at this time."
"What about that... misfortune?"
I shake my head. "No, I don't think so."
"So how did you explain to her why you weren't seeing Quiston anymore?"
"I don't know. I can't remember."
"At least we know now why you are so panicked about anal sex," says Lydia.
"I'm not panicked! I just don't like it. Why do men feel they have to do it if the gods have given us a hole that is meant specifically for that purpose?"
"Yeah, we've been over that."
"No, seriously, is it really so much better for the man that it justifies putting the woman through such suffering?"
No one tries to argue that point with me. We have really been over this several times. Realizing that, I can't help laughing. "All right, girls. Let's return to the city." The sun is going down. My time planning has been perfect.
There is something I've never yet told even to Lydia. After that last time with Quiston, it wasn't just shock and fear and the feeling of having been abused that tormented me. I also felt terribly guilty for having ruined his pleasure. I have never been able to tell a man to pull out of me, and now I realize why – it would always subconsciously remind me of my unbearable grief for my first relationship I had believed would last forever. That and the unanswerable question if I could have done something differently to avoid that disaster.

We reach the outskirts of Solitud at 6 when the sun is beginning to set. There is still time to comfortably do some shopping.

Then we go and present ourselves at the palace. I ask Sybille what's happened to Una, that palace maid who was a thalmor spy. Sybille informs me they decided to release her, yet she is strictly forbidden to leave the city or set foot in the palace. I'm very glad to hear that. She has surely suffered a lot, but she will hopefully be able to make a new start.

When I enquire about that Argonian bandit Jaree-Ra, Sybille says the ship on which he lived left the harbor the next morning after my conversation with Vittoria. He hasn't been heard of since.

Oh well. Maybe it's better that way.

I wish she had chosen a different wording. From the mouth of a vampire, this sounds somewhat... er... blood-chilling.

I ask Elisif if she can organize me a ship for traveling to High Rock. She says she's sure it can be done – not overnight, but she'll spare no effort to be able to help me return home. However...
However what?
The ocean is very stormy northwest of Haafingar, she tells me. That's the very reason why they have practically no trading with High Rock here. She strongly advises me to consider if a land route via Hammerfell wouldn't be less dangerous. But if I decide to go by ship, she'll get one for me, one way or another.
Yeah, I was going to discuss this with Yrsarald anyway, so she doesn't need to worry about it just yet.

The girls and I say goodbye to the jarl and stroll back to the inn. We see Una on the street. I don't care to go and say hello, and I can see Jordis and Jenassa look at her with obvious hostility. I don't even know why I've been feeling sorry for her. Magnanimosity of the victor, I suppose. [Grin]

We spend the rest of the evening and the best part of the night having a great time at the Winking Skeever inn:

Jordis introduces us to a group of her old colleagues from the time she worked at the prison. I must say their stories are a little too gruesome and their jokes a little too crass, but they're generally nice people and we are thoroughly entertained.
The men try to persuade us to go upstairs with them, but Jordis looks reluctant and I am not too enthusiastic, and so Lydia and Jenassa keep refusing as well, until the guys find themselves some easier women and leave.
The hardest part is walking all the way to our house.



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