Chapter 1 - Enchanter For Hire!



He was an odd man, even for an Argonian. That much was certain - save for the ‘man’ part. Argonians were weird. She assumed he was male, but in the two month she had been travelling with him, she still wasn’t 100% sure. Things had transpired… weird things… that left her very confused as to that. Still, as a beggar quite literally, she hadn’t been in a situation to be choosy when they’d first met - and frankly, she didn’t really care. As the cart bounced and bumped along the road, she looked at Hollow and thought back to when they’d first met…

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She had managed to stave off the more obvious but distasteful employment opportunities in the Imperial City only by cleverness and pure luck. Growing up on the streets, she’d gotten pretty good at scavenging. Now that she was maturing, however, things were tougher. Handouts to a street urchin were one thing, but those were harder to come by as she grew. Such offerings often came with favors. Favors that thus far she’d managed to refuse or elude.

However, she had finally been forced to try her hand at robbery, and that had been her undoing. It wasn’t that she was unsuccessful - far from it. She had managed to purloin quite an impressive collection of silverware that fetched a good price with a somewhat shady dealer she knew. However, too late she discovered that the house had been protected by the Thieves’ Guild, and it took the Guild little time to uncover her identity.

From a friend, she had fortunately discovered that she had been revealed to the Guild before they’d actually caught up with her - but that left her with only one choice: flight. She’d had no time to prepare, and hastily set out for Leyawiin as the most distant city still within Cyrodiil, catching the first caravan out of town immediately.

Leyawiin had turned out to be even less than hospitable to her, however, and her prospects there rapidly diminished as her funds ran short. Her own sense of self-respect kept her out of the taverns and brothels that seemed increasingly to be her only prospective source of employment.

It was in a dark mood that she now sat alone, fishing for her next meal at a small lake some distance from the city walls. A mile distant she saw a farmer toiling at his field, and she found herself envying the man. Backbreaking and meager as that occupation may be, at least he knew where his next meal was coming from.

She had kept her hair cut short and unkempt, and had kept her figure under wraps - often passing herself off as a boy to avoid unwanted advances. So far it had worked, but increasingly nature was making it more and more difficult to maintain the ruse. Tears began to well up as her thoughts of the future went from dark to black, and she wondered if suicide would actually be worse than following the only path she saw open to her. She cursed the mother and father she’d never known for bringing her into this world with no talents whatsoever.

Then she heard singing. It was so out of place here that it seemed to be magical, even if the words were foreign and unintelligible. Jel, undoubtedly. Yet they were sweetly sung and the melody was enchanting. She looked around for the source as it slowly became louder. The creaking of wheels accompanied it, and she left her makeshift fishing pole on the ground as she crept through the grass towards the road.

A covered cart was there, slowly creaking down the road, rolling away from the city with a sole Argonian swaying to the mismatched wobble of it’s wheels. She was strangely drawn towards this odd character, with his wide-brimmed hat and long cloak left conspicuously open. But it was his eyes that really drew her own. They were black, but with the most enthralling blue sclera, recalling perhaps the ocean itself. She’d never seen anything like them, and she had certainly met many Argonians, being so close to the Black Marsh.

Suddenly he stopped, reigning in the old grey mare that drew his cart. She ducked low as his head swivelled towards her, though he didn’t stop his singing until he had finished the verse.

“Ah! A young woman, Anabelle! We have a guest! Come, don’t be shy. Come out from the grass there. You are no snake to crawl on your belly. Come, I am Oak in Grey Hollow! Traveling Enchanter and Mage Extraordinaire, purveyor of fine magical potions, goods and enchantments of all sorts. Known across Tamriel by the finer establishments! Perhaps you are in need of some magetallow candles? They are my specialty! Oh, come. I know you’re there, Miss. Hiding is rude and you are no brigand.”

She raised her head above the grass hesitantly.

“There you are! Come! My hat tells me you are in need of my services. Oh yes, I can help. But please, what is your name, Miss? I must know something of you, in order to best assist. Come and tell me, what can the great Oak in Grey Hollow do for you?!”

She stood, brushing the grass from herself. The Argonian brought a smile to her lips somehow, an expression that felt out of place. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled. But his own enthusiasm was infectious.

“Oh, sir, I’m just a beggar. I’ve nothing to pay you with.”

The Argonian squinted his eyes at her. “Oh, I see. Well… alas, that is a problem. Payment up front. Sorry, company policy. Can’t break policy, no.”

Her spirits faded as he confirmed her expectations. But he had not resumed his ride. He sat looking at her, as if thinking deeply.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “I’m getting an idea…”

She approached the cart, reading the badly faded painted words on the side: “Oak in Grey Hollow - Enchanter for Hire!”

“I’ve got it! My candle has come through yet again!” he said, and removed his hat and revealing the most marvelous thing.

A candle sat perched atop his head, apparently firmly affixed by the melted wax that had flowed from it’s still-burning wick. His hand reflexively went towards it’s tip as if in a instinctive gesture.

“Ah yes, still alight! It’s my Idea Candle, you know! Gives me great ideas! Also helps with the hat’s enchantment, you know… Magetallow. Say, do you need any magetallow candles? I’ve got heaps in the back. LOADS of em!”

“Um… no. Sorry Sir.”

“Oh, no. Call me Oak. Or Hollow. No ‘Sir’s here! Not among the staff. Oh no, we have a relaxed policy here in the company. Management and Labor are united, you see? You’re not going to stage a strike, are you?”

She stood open-mouthed, more confused than ever.

“No? Good. Well then, hop aboard and I’ll tell you your duties. Come on, come on up…”

“What?”

“Ah… I see. So that’s how it is… Holding out for more pay. No, no… I understand. It’s just business. Okay, if you insist. The hat is never wrong. Okay, but only 20% more, and that’s my final offer! Take it or leave it.”

“Twenty percent of what?”

“Why, your base salary of course! I can do no more than that! Please, I’m not made of money! I knew someone that was made of money once, but that ended badly for him. But I’m not him. Really, any more and I’d ruin myself! Please take the offer?”

“Um… what’s my ‘base salary’?” she said, but found herself crossing to the other side of the cart and smiling. The guy was obviously insane, and yet he seemed harmless enough. Maybe she could get a free meal out of him at least.

“Why, zero of course. Okay, 25% more, but that’s it! Either stay down there or sit here beside me and take the job. What’ll it be?”

She didn’t hesitate. She had no other prospects. She climbed up and sat beside the insane Argonian.

“Ah, you drive a hard bargain! But a deal’s a deal. Now, let me tell you about the job…”

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She smiled now, months later, recalling that day. The insane enchanter and the beggar - what a match!

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“Up Anabelle!” said the enchanter as he whipped the reigns and the cart started off again. Now perched on the seat beside Hollow, she had to hold on with one hand as the cart jogged back and forth.

“As you may have surmised, I travel these lands now, bringing joy and happiness through the power of enchantment to both great and humble here in Cyrodiil. But I could use an assistant, especially one of your beauty and talent.”

She looked down at herself and laughed. She probably should have taken a bath back at that lake. She stank. But he was continuing.

“I am - you may not have noticed - an Argonian. However, through circumstances too tragic to relate, I have come to Cyrodiil, which I find is peopled greatly by your own kind. Now, even as attractive as I am, it seems there are some locals who are somewhat off-put by my native race. Hard to believe, but it’s true. Why, just a few days ago, I was escorted most unceremoniously from my temporary residence outside a local village with the most rude epithets I’d never expect to hear from those whom I’d brought such joy and happiness to! Yet, there it is. Open racism can sometimes run rampant in the backwaters of even such civilized realms as Cyrodiil.”

“I can’t believe it,” she said, getting into the spirit of the moment.

“Oh, I know! But that’s where you come in, Miss. Oh, say, did you ever tell me your name?”

“I have lots of names, Mr. Hollow. Never really knew my real name. Orphaned.”

“Orphaned you say? I’m an orphan too, did you know? But the world is my mother and the sky is my father. Between the two, I was nursed and raised. Still, you must have a name. Do you want me to choose one?”

She smiled. She’d never much liked any of the names she’d chosen for long. She kept changing them. Her foster parents had named her Colena. She hated it worst of all.

“Oh, yes, please. You make up a name for me!” she said eagerly, and meant it.

“Hmm,” he said, removing his hat. “Is my candle still burning?”

She looked at the glowing wick and nodded as he put the hat back on.

“Good. My best ideas come from my candle. Then ‘Mira’. I shall call you Mira.”

“Mira? What does that mean?”

“Hell if I know! I just like the sound.”

She considered it, and decided she liked the sound of it too.

“Then Mira it is,” she said happily. “Now, about this job…”

“Oh,” Hollow said, recalling his earlier train of thought. “Well, yours shall be the pacifying influence of a beautiful woman. You will display yourself prominently as my assistant. That should help alleviate the more racist tendencies of our potential customers, don’t you think?”

Mira scoffed, “Beautiful woman? Hollow, you’re Argonian and maybe not such a good judge of female human beauty.”

Hollow turned to her, his head cocked to one side and looked her up and down.

“You think not? Well, perhaps you are right. I do have some things that may help with that though. But that’s for later. For now, how’s your singing? Do you know any Jel?”

“Singing? Jel?”

“Ah. Well, let me teach you a song. Best way to learn Jel. A musical language, even if your throat isn’t really built for it.”

“I… might be able to sing better, if perhaps I could get a bite to eat first?” she suggested hesitantly.

“Oh my! Oh dear! Certainly! One moment!” he said, handing her the reins as he fumbled for a pack underneath the seat.

“Hollow! I’ve never driven a horse before!” she protested, eyes widening in fear.

“Just hold onto the reins, girl. Now do let me look. I know I left it… Ah! Here it is. Now, let’s see what I have here… Apple? I have carrots too.”

She nodded happily, though she was too scared to take her eyes off the horse for fear it might bolt at any moment.

“Very good. I keep them for Anabelle, but I don’t think she’d mind sharing with you.”

She looked at him with menace that he apparently didn’t catch, but he took the reins back - and she took the apple.

An hour later, she was sated and happily singing along with Hollow. She found that, though she still didn’t understand a word she was singing, she did have a talent for harmony which Hollow praised with enthusiasm. The day fell into evening as the two whiled away the afternoon and Hollow taught her a variety of songs. Finally he pulled the old cart off the road and into a glade out of sight of the road.

She realized as they got down from the cart that, though she’d no earthly idea what the future held now, she had never been happier in her life.