This is the third part of Aurora's adventures, the previous being The Adventures of a Dragonborn and The Adventures of a Dragonborn: For King and Skyrim. Enjoy!
She had been to Morrowind before, but both the woman and the land had changed dramatically since her last visit five years prior. It staggered her how little time it had taken for the details to fade from her memories. Aurora remembered the strange, cave-like architecture, the warm weather and moist air, but rediscovered the arches and odd shapes of the houses. She also rediscovered the icy attitude and inhospitality of the people inhabiting the land. The night she arrived in Blacklight had been rainy and cold, even by the Skyrim standards she had lived by for two and a half years. At least the summer sun offered a few warming beams of light to an exhausted traveller back there in Whiterun. In Morrowind, it stubbornly hid behind the heavenly clouds. The weather changed for the worse as soon as she crossed the Dunmeth Pass almost as if to punish her, and the unhelpful guards did not make her journey easier. The woman shivered as she thought of her awful, weeklong trip, and not only because of the weather and frustration. She did not wish to think of it, though. It was in the past now, and she should be focusing on finding Vilkas rather than building scenarios of what may or may not have happened.
She had no idea of where to look. Blacklight was the capital, and a rather populated one for that matter. There were some dozen professions a traveller could take on to earn a living, some of which required one to hunt out on the steppes and grassland or travel from place to place as a mercenary or merchant's assistant. It would not be easy to find him, but Aurora hoped that she could at least get some clues to where he could be. Two days of searching had gotten her nowhere, but in all fairness; she had not been too persistent. The merchants at the market were really rude towards her for being foreign, and it sickened her. She would forever be rendered an outlander as returning home to Cyrodiil was not an option, but people did not have to make a statement of it every bloody time. The Nords were sceptic when it came to strangers, but the Dunmer were outright xenophobic, and it brought out the worst in Aurora.
The woman sat by the table at her room. The inn was filthy and the food uneatable, but it was the first place she saw as she entered the city and it was cheap. She had met another traveller downstairs the previous evening who recommended a shop that specialised on charts and souvenirs from different parts of Tamriel, and the Dragonborn had bought a map of Morrowind for a few septims. She studied it closely, trying to estimate the time it would take to cover the distance from one city to another. The woman felt nostalgic as she stroke the word "Tear" gently. She could remember it so clearly after spending nine months living and working there after nearly escaping Cyrodiil.
What she was most worried of was that Vilkas would have gone to either Vvardenfell or Solstheim, and it did sound quite like him to go there. She had hoped to search the mainland first as its network of roads and settlements were better. The more people out on the roads, the bigger her chance of finding the man she was looking for. Someone must have heard of him, he would need to buy necessities somewhere and perhaps earn a coin or two eventually.
The woman looked out through the window. It was raining outside, and the muddy pathway that led to the centre of the town was filled with people who did their daily shopping, travellers who made a stop for a day or two in the capital of Morrowind and workers from all corners of Tamriel. Members of all different races were represented in Blacklight, which was by far the most tolerant city in the land of elves. A lot of Nords traded with the locals as Skyrim was close by, as well as some Imperials and Argonians from the neighbouring provinces. It still was not like Cyrodiil, though, which was a lot more urban and civilised. Aurora hated being treated like an outsider, and she disliked the elves for their xenophobia.
Shortly speaking, Morrowind was not her dream destination, but Vilkas was there, so she had no choice but to be there, though she would still avoid the elves as far as she could.
"An ale, thanks," Aurora ordered.
She had decided against eating at her inn and chosen a pub in a nicer part of the town instead. It seemed alright judging by the first impression, but the woman noticed that the guests were mostly made up of seafarers and merchants. Her entrance caused most of the men to turn towards the door and turn silent. As she stepped inside, she felt their gazes in her neck.
The bartender put a pint in front of her and returned to drying other glasses as if nothing had happened, but as soon as she was about to drink, a group of men approached her. A tall, tattooed Nord in his mid thirties with as much muscle mass as Farkas sat down next to her and leaned towards the woman.
"What does an Imperial woman do this far away from home?" he asked with a gaze that made Aurora rather uneasy.
She wrinkled her forehead and took her glass, sighing as she stood up and took a step away from the man. Just a moment later, she felt his big, sweaty hand on her shoulder.
"Don't go, let's have some fun," he smiled smugly.
"I wouldn't think so," Aurora answered and pulled her lips slightly upward, making a disgusted expression.
"She's arrogant!" the man cried and threw his arms to the sides.
His half a dozen mates laughed at his remark and cheered as they took to their glasses. The rest of the pub's guests had turned their attention back to their ales, but the big Nord's mates seemed very interested in what he would do next. Aurora was growing both anxious and annoyed and tried to break free of the Nord's grip, but he took a firmer hold of her right upper arm as he leaned closer and whispered in her ear.
"Let's just go to my room and no one will get hurt, whore."
He reeked of sweat and ale, making Aurora instantly wanting to draw away, as if the insult was not enough.
"I will warn you only once," the woman said, trying to remain calm. Her heavy breathing must have given some away, but she still complemented herself for handling the situation rather well.
The Nord gritted his teeth and gripped her shoulder bone-length hair, pulling her closer. Just as she opened her mouth to exclaim an "ouch", another man approached them from behind, trying to catch the Nord's attention.
"Excuse me, but the lady doesn't seem to enjoy your company."
Aurora could not see what the other man looked like, but she did not care. Neither did the big Nord, who just ignored the other man who was nothing but an annoying fly to him. The Nord tried to push Aurora forwards, but she was strong enough to withstand. As the man was stronger than her, she had no option but to Shout, even though she remembered Ulfric Stormcloak's anger last time she used it in a non-lethal situation. She could of course have tried to kick him, but the woman did not feel like losing too much of her hair, which already had taken quite a while to grow back since she cut it before her fight with Alduin. The Dragonborn took a deep breath and screamed:
"YOL TOOR!"
The Nord was immediately set on fire and thrown back, landing on the man who tried to intervene. The Skyrimer rolled around for a while until the fire died out.
"What in Oblivion..." he exclaimed whilst unsmoothly trying to get off, gripping chairs as he tried to do so.
Aurora looked around the pub. Almost everyone had stopped drinking and was now watching the woman. It would be an understatement to say that that they were surprised as some even had dropped their chins. The woman threw her arms to the side.
"What? He didn't listen. I said I'd only warn him once," she stated nonchalantly.
An angry gaze from the bartender informed Aurora about the fact that she was no longer welcome in there. Apparently, it was somehow her fault that a few chairs and glasses had been broken during the Nord's clumsy attempt to get up on his feet.
"Don't worry, it's not as if I want to be here either," she said.
Holding her head up high, she marched out of the pub and out to the rain. She wanted to get away as far as possible before an impressed guest turned into an intrusive suitor, and as the evening was already turning into nightfall, she decided to go back to the inn she was staying at.
Aurora could not say that she enjoyed her stay in Blacklight even the slightest. The weather was bad, the people's attitude rotten and the architecture did not appeal to the woman. She wanted to leave the town as soon as she could, but not before she had even the slightest lead on where Vilkas could be.
The woman walked through the narrow alleys in the centre of the rather populous town, slowly approaching the water, before she turned left and passed the docks. A ship had just arrived, and the dockworkers were busy unloading the merchandise it brought from a foreign land – Elsweyr, judging by the look of it. There were a lot of bottles, probably containing Skooma and some big, red carpets.
The woman did not feel like interacting with anyone, she just wanted to get back to the inn, but promised herself to get to work the following day. She would go down to the docks once more and ask around. It was her best chance of finding someone who had met or seen Vilkas, and she did not really have a plan B except for the market. At least the merchants coming by sea were of different nationalities and races, so she would probably be able to find at least one good-hearted Imperial who would take pity on her and help the poor woman find a contact.
As the woman reached the inn, darkness had fallen over the capital. The guesthouse was almost empty, and Aurora felt tired after the day's escapades, so she walked straight to her room and collapsed into bed. She did not care about the fact that her leather jacket and pants were wet and needed to be dried in order to preserve their appearance and softness. She was sick of being cold and soaking wet all the time and began to regret that she did not bring her armour with her. Whilst in Skyrim, she thought that the journey to Morrowind would not require heavy protection as she had no intentions of fighting any physical battles. Tonight had proven her wrong, and she promised herself never to go outside without her sword again, even if it was annoying to carry it over her shoulder, which she had to do as her belt had been worn out and she had not had time to fix it.
The sooner she left the town, the happier would she be. She had not seen the sun in almost a fortnight, and the first impression she had of Blacklight had not changed the slightest. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would not give up as easily as she had the previous days. Someone had seen Vilkas, she just had to find out who it was and force him or her to tell everything he or she knew. Then she would find him and leave this godsforsaken country once and for all.