By the Nine!

“Well then, come in by the fire.  There’s plenty of room, despite these trolls taking most of it up!” A wash of deep laughter and loud slaps on the back ensued as the men settled around the fire.  It was no surprise Ondolemar was reluctant to join the festivities.  He didn’t like this, and his anxiety only seemed to increase as he watched the unruly humans interacting around the fire. 

The elf was having second thoughts, and his gaze looked back for that damned false divine only to find nothing but cold and trees.  If he had been a more unclothe creature he would have sworn as his back stiffened at the abandonment.  Humans laughed at his back, warm, comfortable, and it felt like it was mocking him. 

“He does that.”

Ondolemar spun around, magicka tingling in his fingers as he turned to see the rowdy ginger from before smiling at him.  The justicar did not like being startled.  “What in Oblivion are you talking about?”

“Talos, he does that.  Disappears out of nowhere.  You get used to it.  Now come on, the fire’s roaring and you’ll only get cold out here.”

The altmer backed up, his glare darkening as the Nord stood far too close.  It didn’t make sense, but all these men seemed to tower over him.  He was not short, and altmer were there tallest of the elves, it made no sense that these men were of such unnatural size.  Whatever it was, their proximity made him feel violent.  “I’ll go where I please, human.  And I’d thank you to keep proper distance.”

The Nord stepped back a ways, hands again raised.  “Alright, alright.  Just wanted to make sure you knew you were welcome.”

“Noted,” the altmer snarled before he noticed he was doing it.  The Nord’s eyes widened, but he finally shrugged and sat down again.  The loss of control was even more frustrating than the damn Nord, and he turned around again, taking several shaking breaths until they went steady again.  His magic was burning, frustrated as he was when he looked out into the twisted trees and saw nothing he knew and everything he hated. 

Ondolemar stood there, staring out into the trees until his body ached and hands trembled with the effort of keeping warm by magic.  There was something unnatural in this wind, draining him.  He couldn’t sustain this any longer, not when even the effort of standing was taxing his last reserves.  His gaze turned reluctantly back to the men settled around the fire, still full of banter. 

His steps towards the fire were slow, and the mer buried his hands into his robe to hide their shaking from exhaustion.  The altmer sighed, seeing the only space left unoccupied between the hulking humans was next to quiet dark haired Nord that had looked at him so hard.  Regardless, the mer stepped over the rough log and seated himself silently beside the brute. 

No one said anything, and that was as disturbing as it was comforting.  He finally ended the spells, and the mer felt himself go lightheaded.  Cold assaulted his senses, then heat, his head swam but a large arm grabbed his shoulder and held him steady.  Ondolemar braced a cold hand on the log beneath him, closing his eyes tight as his heart fought to slow with the angry writhing of his suffering magicks.

The warm rim of a mug pressed to his lips, and despite his protests, the warm liquid filled his mouth.  He recognized the burn of alcohol and the taste of mead.  Reluctantly he swallowed it down, feeling his head clear enough for him to knock the muscular arm supporting him away.  As his eyes cleared it wasn’t his throat burning anymore, not with half a dozen human gazes staring upon him. 

All but collapsed with exhaustion in front of a group of humans.  He did not think he had ever been more embarrassed in his life. 

“You’ll be alright.”

Ondolemar gripped the cup tight, and his golden eyes darted to the source of the rough whisper.  The dark haired Nord.  He was even bigger than all the others, but he was also the only one not looking at him.  Frowning, the mer brought the cup back to his lips, forcibly ignoring the stilted return to conversation.  The rough human brew made his lips curl with distaste, but the warmth was reluctantly welcome as it seeped into his core and comforted his aches. 

It took time, but eventually the pain did fade, and his magicka began to calm.  The heat of the fire was nice, but the cover of his robes left much to be desired.  He considered lowering his hood to get more comfortable, but these humans already had enough reasons to gawk at him.  Instead he just settled there, trying not to think about the large bodies settled so close to him.

In the warm halo of the fire the altmer didn’t even notice when he started to drift.