Previous installments under the skyrim-conversations
The Dragonborn: Helping Nords conquer their introversion, one dialogue tree at a time.
Kynesgrove is such a pretty little town that Lydia and I decide to stop in the Braidwood Inn and have a drink. Chill out a little. Maybe do some shopping later. Even the Dragonborn needs to take an afternoon off once in a while.
Of course, once I'm actually buying a couple of tankards of ale from Iddra, the owner of the Braidwood Inn, my strange compulsion to be helpful kicks in. I find myself asking, "So, got anything that needs doing?" before I even remember that I'm supposed to be taking the afternoon off. Whoops. I'll probably get a lecture from Lydia about this.
"Well, would you be willing to talk to Roggi for me?"
Roggi Knot-Beard, that would be. Met him on the way in. Nice fellow, even though he doesn't seem to have two septims to clink together. He's also standing practically at Iddra's elbow, doing a very convincing impression of being oblivious to our conversation. "Yes, I suppose I can talk to Roggi. What would you like me to say?"
Iddra sighs. "He's run up quite a tab here, and I know he doesn't have the money to pay it. And frankly, I don't care - I'd be happy just to give him his drinks on the house, but he won't hear of it."
I glance at Roggi again, who is still apparently oblivious. He's staring into the bottom of a tankard. I wonder if this is an advanced Nord meditation technique. "So, you want me to persuade Roggi to not pay his debt?"
Iddra nods. I turn to Roggi, who straight away looks up from his tankard and gives me his full attention. "Er, Iddra asked me to talk to you," I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Iddra, who appears to be absorbed in contemplating a cabbage.
"Oh? What about?" He genuinely appears not to know. I tell him, and give him a rousing speech about how a real man knows when to accept a bit of friendly charity, and eventually persuade him to quit worrying about the debt.
Then I turn back to Iddra, who asks me, "Did you talk to Roggi?"
"Er, surely you overheard? No? Well, er, yeah, I persuaded him not to worry about it."
I accept her thanks, and the drinks, and return to the corner table where Lydia is sitting. I sip at my drink, and experimentally peer into the depths of my tankard, but it just looks like beer to me.
"You seem troubled, my Thane," Lydia remarks.
"Well, not troubled exactly. More confused. I just acted as a conversational intermediary between two people who were standing within smacking distance of each other."
"It's a Nord thing, my Thane. You wouldn't understand."
"Tell me, Lydia, how do people around here communicate with each other if they haven't got a chatty Breton handy?"
"We drink a lot and get into brawls, mostly, my Thane."
I shake my head. Skyrim may be my home now, but I don't think I'm ever going to understand what makes the people here tick.