A/N: Written for the RLt Green Room's October 25, 2013 prompt: "Adopt a challenge written by another RLter. Kittens if you combine two or more challenges or if you pick an older one from early in the thread." I am actually combining three challenges here: Ange's "Darkness Inside" and "Light Inside" challenges as well as Ckorkows "going to the dogs!" challenge.
Ange's "Darkness Inside" challenge (page 15 in the challenges thread): "Take your main character, and highlight the selfish reasons he/she's doing this."
Ange's "Light Inside" challenge (page 15 in the challenges thread): "Take you main antagonist, and highlight his selfless reasons for doing what he/she does."
Ckorkow's "going to the dogs!" challenge (page 3 in the challenges thread): "Write a 500-2000 word fic about your favorite characters encountering mans best friend. Do they drool (the dogs or the character...), cringe in terror, rescue one another? It's up to you!"
A Hero Named Ragnar
"There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red..." That's how the song goes, as I'm sure you all know. It is, after all, one of the most famous songs in Skyrim. Did you ever wonder, though, why the song expects everyone to cheer at Ragnar's death, when the song itself admits in the very first line that he's a "hero"? My name is Ragnar, sometimes called "the Red." Let me tell you my story.
I am a Nord of Skyrim, and as you likely have already guessed, I do indeed have red hair. I grew up in the town of Rorikstead, as you might already know from the song. Well, the song says I rode to Whiterun from Rorikstead; it doesn't say I grew up there. But anyway, I did. My parents were farmers, and I was helping tend wheat and collect eggs as far back as I can remember. When I reached my teen years, I would often spend a little of my free time to walk to the shrine of Akatosh to pray and make offerings. One day while I was praying at the shrine, a band of Forsworn raiders attacked the town, killing both of my parents and burning our house to the ground. I wished that I had been able to save my parents, and I swore before Akatosh that from that day forward I would do all I could to be a hero like the ones in the songs who could save others from evil.
I took up adventuring, starting simply by hunting wild animals such as wolves and bears near Rorikstead. The townspeople appreciated my efforts to keep them safe and would sometimes give me gifts of food, coin, or even simple weapons and armour. I would also help harvest crops at the other farms when they needed it, my childhood experience making me an efficient worker. Soon, I began harvesting wild plants and herbs to sell as well as catching fish and insects. Alchemists would often pay well for the rarer ingredients, and every little bit helped me feel like I was helping out as well as lining my pockets with a bit of coin.
When I was more confident in my skills, I began seeking out bandit caves and camps. The bandits were generally more dangerous than wild animals, but the rewards were also far greater, and I soon took to making somewhat regular trips into Whiterun to sell off the loot I'd collected. There were far more and varied merchants in Whiterun.
I would also pick up a few bounties when I stopped into inns. It was a great feeling to know that I was, albeit indirectly, working for the Jarl.
It was around that time that I met a girl. Her name was Lesa and she was a Redguard alchemist travelling the world searching for alchemical ingredients to make potions and increase her knowledge and skill. She happily bought all the ingredients I had on me at the time and said she would buy any more I happened across. She had beautiful brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. Her laugh was deep and rich and honest. I asked her if there were any specific ingredients she was having a particularly difficult time finding, and she answered: "Briar Hearts." They looked like plants, but they didn't seem to grow anywhere, and her own attempts to cultivate the few samples she had been able to acquire had come to naught. The only way she knew of to get them was from the Forsworn; the gods only knew where the Forsworn were getting them.
Lesa told me she understood that the Forsworn were dangerous, and she didn't want me putting myself in peril on her account. But if I happened to come across any Briar Hearts in my travels, she would be very grateful if I kept them for her.
She set up a bit of an alchemy shop in the Frostfruit Inn, so I would bring her any alchemy ingredients I found in my daily excursions. Dragonflies, fireflies, salmon roe, barnacles, mushrooms—her eyes would light up when I opened my pack for her inspection. There were always a wild array of flowers as well, since they grew plentifully in the hills: purple, white, red, blue, sometimes yellow. She knew the proper names for them all, of course. Once, she joked that the other girls might get jealous of how often I brought her flowers.
"Let them," I said. Our eyes met, and she smiled. There was a hint of rosy pink on her cheeks that made her seem even prettier than ever.
"You're prettier than any flower," I said. It was pretty terrible as far as lines go, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Have you ever been to Riften?" she asked me one day as we were sharing a pleasant meal of salmon steaks and ale.
"No," I said. "Is there something you want me to get you from Riften?"
She grinned and said, "Yes, but only if you want to get it for me."
I was confused and probably looked it.
"There is a temple of Mara in Riften," she explained. "You can get an Amulet of Mara there."
And suddenly I understood. I was so overjoyed I couldn't speak.
I knew, though, that if we were to wed, it would be best to have a house, and houses don't come cheap in Skyrim. She made good money selling potions—mostly simple cures and healing balms—and I made a fair bit adventuring, so we'd both been getting by reasonably well, but a house large enough for a family was a major investment. Lesa had told me she wished to adopt some orphans, to give them a family. As an orphan myself, I loved the idea and loved her all the more for suggesting it.
So I threw myself into raiding bandit camps with greater vigour, searching out Forsworn for their elusive Briar Hearts. And I found some. But even more importantly, I found a little girl they had kidnapped for some sick ritual, killed the sinister priest who was keeping her in a cage, and returned her unharmed to her parents. I never felt better than I did that day, knowing that little girl was safe and reunited with her family because of my bravery and skill.
I had quite the load of weapons, armour, and other various loot from the Forsworn encampment, so I set off on horseback for Whiterun to sell it. It seemed I might have enough coin saved to purchase a house after that hall, and I was feeling elated. I bought myself a few drinks at the local inn and regaled the other patrons with tales of my recent heroics. It really was no small feat to kill that Forsworn priest; he had been in possession of some powerful magics, and I had been most grateful for the healing potions I had with me.
And that was where Matilda found me. She was blonde as only a Skyrim Nord can be, and brave as the song calls her, a renowned adventurer in her own right, there is no doubt. She sat down across from me and struck up a conversation. I didn't realize at first that she was flirting with me, thinking her to be simply friendly, but when she made her intentions clear, I told her I was already seeing someone and we were soon to be married.
Matilda didn't take rejection well. She got very angry very quickly, and threw her drink in my face.
As I stood to my feet, stumbling back from the table, I accidentally stepped on her dog. I was feeling the effects of my own drinks as well as being barely able to see with her mead streaming in my eyes, and the dog had been lying on the floor behind my stool. I meant the poor beast no ill. But none of that meant anything to Matilda. "You hurt my dog!" she bellowed, her eyes blazing as she flipped the table across the room.
I felt very bad for the dog, who yelped and whined piteously. I tried to suggest we find a healer for the animal—I was even willing to pay. She refused to listen, drawing her sword as she advanced on me. "You lie!" she yelled. "You always lie! You're nothing but a lying, useless drunk!"
I drew my own weapon to fend off her attacks.
It would have been better had I not drank anything that evening. Perhaps then I could have talked my way out of the fight. Perhaps then I would never have hurt her poor dog. Perhaps then I could have fought well enough to save my own life.
"You're so ugly," she said right before she cut off my head. "I don't know how anyone could ever want someone who looks like you, Ragnar the Red."
So now I'm remembered as an ugly, lying, drunken braggart. That wise saying rings true: 'history is written by the victors', because they're the ones alive to tell the story.
I wonder, sometimes, if my lovely girl, my Redguard alchemist, ever heard the song they wrote about me. I wonder if it made her sad. It might seem a bit silly, but I hope someone gave her the Briar Hearts I had on me that day.
I wonder if the little girl who I saved from the Forsworn heard the song and realized it was meant to be about the same Ragnar who saved her life. I hope she lived long and happily.
I don't think anyone else was likely to care. I mean, it's a catchy song. And it's probably a lot more fun to think of me as a villain.