Anthony
"That won't be a problem, brother. This place, the air just feels different somehow. The right kind of air... I suppose? It sounds foolish to me, but that's the best way I can put it into words."

*Sitting beside Crag on the ledge, he took a deep breath and felt relaxed. Back home he was surrounded by nature, but not like this. This was nothing more than nature's beauty given form. In the wilds, it was both beautiful and dangerous, and he often had to focus more on survival with not much time to take in its wonders. Here however, he could put it aside for a bit. Years of pent-up stress seemed to fade away and subdue with every moment he spent here. If any place in all of Tamriel belonged to Kynareth, then this would trump all others.*

"Care to hear my story, Crag? If we are kin, we may as well get to know each other."
Donald
"Of course, brother. It is only right." He says, calmly. 

Over on the ridge by the Eldergleam some Spriggans can be seen, they walk along the ridge, it is clear they have no intent to do anything, they just walk, sometimes disappearing among the roots
Anthony
"Very well, where to begin... Ah, right. It all begins forty or so years ago. The wilderness of Cyrodiil, not far from Bruma. Whoever my birth parents were, I do not know, for they left me there alone to die. I would have, if it weren't for my father's kind soul. A humble farmer headed to visit some relatives in Bruma when he happened upon me, a lone calf in the woods. Instead of running or attacking me, he took me back here to Skyrim, treated me like his own flesh and blood. I owe him my life."

*Looking on at the passive Spriggans, the memories steadily became clearer to Rodric, and soon they left his mouth as his story.*
Donald
"Hmm, something must have happened to them, I assume. Us minotaurs tend to be protective of our young." He says, "I'd like to meet this man someday, he sounds like a good man." He says with a smile
Anthony
"Aye, he is a good man, but not one for visitors last I checked. Continuing on, I grew up on his farm. A simple life some distance from town out in the hills of the Reach, tilling the fields and working the land. Takes a lot of work, but I had the good fortune of my strength and stamina, so it wasn't too draining. I could lift my father with one hand when I was a young lad, and that same strength came into good use many times. Plenty of ruffians and madmen out in the Reach, pretty dangerous place. Long as I was around though, the farm wasn't getting attacked anytime soon. Hell, eventually I grew so big I had to start sleeping outside, couldn't fit into the house. So I slept in an adjacent shed instead, wearing cow pelts for warmth. Nothing fancy, but we were comfortable. Food, shelter, family- what more could someone ask for?"
Donald
"Sounds like luxury," He says with a laugh, "I'm almost jealous of it."
Anthony
"Well, around my twentieth year, that changed pretty fast. You see..."

*Rodric paused, as if he was choosing his words carefully.*

"...There was a fight one night. A very bad one. It was rough, and both me and my old man were put through a lot. And then, then I lost control. What happened next is fuzzy... I remember shouting and the sound of something collapsing. By the time I came to my senses, I was on the verge of hurting my father and part of the house was rubble. I left that night and never returned. So I lived by myself, still keeping an eye on him, but I don't get close anymore. I'm not going to put myself in a situation where he'd get hurt again."

*Rodric sighed mournfully, looking aimlessly at the stream below his hooves. Bad memories, lots of bad memories. He was relatively happy, but he had no shortage of regrets.*
Donald
"That sounds bad." He says, "A rampage like that... Almost killing your father, it sounds... Bestial." He says, "I mean no offense, you've gone through a lot." He sighs