The Incident In Bruma
It’s all quite comical, really. I mean, all things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse. The innkeeper still fancies me, and I still hear a chuckle here and there when I visit, but I’m told that she doesn’t make an appearance there anymore. I may have in fact, done the town a great service. But what am I doing? Every great storyteller knows to start from the beginning!
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Bruma’s a nice place to visit. It sits on the northern part of Cyrodiil, just south of Skyrim. I used to make every excuse I could to visit. You see, I was quite fond of the innkeeper and I’m sure she was of me, at least she led me to believe that. Who knows with women these days! Being so close to Skyrim, the town was full of Nords, who while also known for the propensity for battle, enjoy a good drink, a good story (in song no doubt!), most always have a few choice words about several topics and make for great (if not limited) discussion. There are lots of Nords there who aren’t particularly from Skyrim, but have made their home there due to the difference in climate.
So it began as a trip like any other, arriving and acquiring my accommodations at the local inn. It’s curious though, I visit because I find the town of Bruma quite interesting, and the people as well. But I long for the comforts of my own home and culture immediately upon my arrival. This trip though proved not to be like the rest. Oh no, this trip was to be riddled with an anecdote of unrivaled proportion!
There arrived in Bruma, the very same evening, a woman who will remain nameless for her own sake. I don’t know what good that will do, because by now, I’m sure the Nords may have told the story all across Skyrim. I was there on a scholarly errand, believing that a shopkeeper may be in possession of a particular piece of literature I needed in order to master a spell, for I believed that the secret to flight lay within the roots of levitation magic, and I sought to find its origins. I was discussing this with the delightful innkeeper, who seemed all to interested and enthusiastic about this piece of news. The next morning I found the book and spent three days studying and sorting out the information I had received. When I finally felt like I had it figured out, I told my innkeeper friend who was eager to see it put to the test.
Now at this point in the story I would like to say that I am not biased against, say, heavier individuals, but in keeping with logic, I thought it more reasonable to try out certain things on, lighter individuals. Albeit, magic knows no limitations such as weight, but I would have imagined it would put a slight strain on the mind of the caster, for obvious reasons. With that said, let us continue.
The cousin of the Jarl of Whiterun who had arrived at the same time as myself overheard the conversation I was having and decided to interrupt. Now, I’m not going to sit here and say she was as beautiful as my priestess Cyntana, or that she was as graceful as my innkeeper friend. If I had to compare her to anything, it would most likely be an ox, big and stubborn. She insisted that she be the center of the test and invoked her right due to her position as “Relative Of The Jarl Of Whiterun”. I certainly was outnumbered when it came to the ratio of Altmer to Nord, and I certainly wanted no quarrel with an entire city, so against my better judgment, and to the amusement of all, I agreed.
So there she was, an ox on a roof. Literally for she somehow managed to get herself on the top of my beloved inn, and position herself right in the middle. She gave me time to make my preparations (or stall and try to figure a way out of this), but she eventually grew impatient with my excuses of forgetting the spell, not being sure, and leaving my knapsack open in my room. She counted to three and then she decided to jump, something I had not expected nor thought possible. I raised my hands, and there she was, hovering “delicately” over the building. She shouted that she always wanted to fly and tried making motions like a fish out of water, attempting to make herself go. I advised against this and told her it’s best if she stay still but she wouldn’t listen. She continued to flop around in midair and eventually one of her shoes flew off and hit me square in the nose. I lost concentration for a second, then heard the thundering sound of lumber and cousin falling through the inn.
We all hurried inside to see if she was ok, and she was save her pride. She blamed me and told me that the Jarl would hear of this disgrace and I would never be welcome in Bruma, or any town in the province of Skyrim nearby. She left that evening, without as much as paying for her room. I paid for the room and apologized for the damage, but my dear friend did not hold me accountable. I spent the next 3 weeks helping repair the roof and floor where she landed. After all was in good order I said my farewells and left for the Imperial City to continue my studies. After I got there I received a letter signed by the innkeeper and some of the townsfolk thanking me for a good show, and to visit anytime I’m in need of another good story to tell.
