Author's Introduction:
Hi readers! Thought I'd pop in with a new story focusing on the actual fiction part of the fanfiction process. I usually prefer the world-building to the actual plot, but this story is a way to try and expand the latter while making the former a little more sub-textual. I'd appreciate any thoughts on characterisation and lore interpretation you might have, or even if you just plain didn't like something. It's all useful to me.
That being said, this is a story about Lydia first and foremost. She always felt like the only character in Skyrim who had something approaching a personality, even if that entire personality was only contained in the sarcastic delivery of Colleen Delany. She took two and a half lines and spun them into a persona. Maybe I was just so desperate to find some hint of deeper characterisation, but I've always kept Lydia around in my playthroughs, her world-weary grumbling breathes a little bit of life into an otherwise dull series on interactions.
That being said, one cannot write decent dialogue with only one character, so I've taken this opportunity to add in a few people who didn't exist in Skyrim but sorely needed to.
First of all: Wutra the Quartermaster. The Jarl's guardsmen all use relatively uniform equipment, presumably requisitioned and stored in a central place so that it can be kept track of. Ergo the Quartermaster, who occupies a basement in one of Whiterun's two guard barracks (the barracks exist, the basements do not...). None of the Guardsmen have homes of their own, so it stands to reason that they all stay in the barracks.
There are not enough beds in these barracks, so they must hot-bunk. Ergo, Wutra also looks after personal effects and even money for those Guardsmen who don't want to have their fellow Guardsmen too close to their life's savings.
Honestly, I wrote this story to ask one question and one question only:
Where are all the toilets?
Are the people of Whiterun just pooping into their hands and tossing it at the river?
Not a single commode in all of Skyrim? The Thalmor are right, we should just burn it all down...
RIFTEN HAS A SEWER SYSTEM BUT NO TOILETS?!
UNACCEPTABLE.
Lydia hurriedly packed the last of her meagre possessions into a sack, awkwardly adjusting her armour as she went. She was used to the mail cuirass of her guard uniform and had been gifted this unconscionably heavy plate by her Aunt Tilda two winters ago. Honestly, it was a little too ungainly for her to be truly comfortable, but a gift is a gift and it wasn't like she could afford her own… She had been pulled from her regular rotation at the Jarl's request, Commander Caius had told her to report to the Great Hall of Dragonsreach itself for her new orders.
She had no notion of what to expect, but suspected it had something to do with the Dragon that had been sighted flying westward a few hours ago. Although… it also might be something to do with the fact that the Throat of the World had started screaming random words, come to think of it.
No matter, she would simply have to find out when she got there. Having placed all of her remaining trinkets into a burlap sack, she went to the armoury and spoke with the Quartermaster, Wutra. A stocky man who had been taken off guard duty due to a weak constitution. He huffed and heaved everywhere he went and smelt badly of stale smoke. He was puffing on his signature pipe while polishing a nasty-looking halberd.
"Where did you even get that?" She asked incredulously, having never seen such a ridiculous weapon in all her life. Wutra only smiled, his black and yellow teeth oddly menacing in their decrepitude.
"Trader from High Rock came through about a month ago, said he used to be a guardsman in Camlorn, and that they all get one of these. It's like a battle-axe, but you can give some bugger the chop without gettin' out of your chair. So naturally I thought it'd be just the thing for giving you milk-drinkers a good seeing to when you don't keep your gear in check."
He smiled and continued to wheeze, puffing on his foul weeds with every sign of contentment.
"Whatever makes you happy, I suppose… Do you want me to give you some 'alone time' with your new lady from Camlorn?" Lydia replied facetiously, well aware of Wutra's obsession with obscure or useless weaponry.
"You think I'd biwack with a lady in this pit? I'm a man of class and distinction, young Lydia! I'd take her round the back of the Battle-borns' place and do it in the bushes there like any fine gentleman would!"
He laughed filthily, then started coughing wetly. After smearing something alarmingly moist on his shirt, he re-lit his pipe with a happy smile.
"So, what brings you to me then lass?" He asked jovially, and Lydia placed the burlap sack on the table in front of him.
"I've been told to report to Dragonsreach and to be prepared for travel, so I was hoping that you could store my things until I return?" Lydia felt a little awkward asking, but it wasn't like she had anywhere else she could go… Wutra rubbed his chin pensively, seeming to give the question a great deal of thought.
"I suppose so, but don't you got anyone else in town who could look after your things?" He said, knowing the answer already…
"You're right, I should take my business elsewhere… It's a big job asking an experienced quartermaster to stuff a sack into a corner all by himself. I should go and get some of the boys to help you." She spoke pithily, disliking his less than subtle conjecture. Wutra only laughed croakily, quite used to her acerbic wit in a way that many others were not.
"Alright, woman. I'll take the sack and square it away for you, but you could stand to be a little more sociable. You've lived here for three years and there isn't any one of us who knows the first thing about you! A girl your age should be out at the tavern at nights, or perhaps out walking with a young man?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at this thought, his voice taking on a salacious tone.
"What about that young lad from the night's watch? I've seen him cast his eyes over you once or twice, when he thinks no-one's looking."
Lydia's eyes bulged at this, Wutra's famous weakness for any kind of gossip had a habit of drawing you in.
"That one with the red hair? Gods, no! He's always got his head buried in books. What in Oblivion's name would we even talk about?!"
Wutra slapped his solid belly as he let out another barking laugh.
"From what I recall, we never did all that much talking when I was out walking with a lady. Maybe they do it differently nowadays?"
He guffawed lecherously and took the sack, depositing it on a nearby shelf to be sorted later. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the thought of a young Wutra out on the prowl and stuck out her tongue in distaste.
"Well, at least I won't need to take another meal today… On that profound thought. I'll get going. They'll probably want me at Dragonsreach before too long…" She turned around to leave Wutra to his work and was surprised when he called after her.
"Lydia, don't you be a stranger, you hear? Travelling is one of the greatest things a woman can do at your age, but only if she opens her mind and her heart to it. If you travel the length of the world with your eyes shut, you may as well have stayed home."
She didn't look back, but she was surprisingly touched by the thought. She made a show of nonchalantly waving her arm behind her, shrugging off his advice.
"Yeah, yeah… I hear you." She said without much conviction.
"Think on it, girl. You'll have plenty of time for thinking on the road, I promise you that much." He replied with his trademark joviality. She slinked off to make her way up to the Great Hall before anyone else could comment on her serial misanthropy.
"Lydia, there you are." Came Commander Caius' strong voice as she left the barracks. She stood at attention and her eyeline was naturally drawn to the shining pate of his bald head, given that she was a good few inches taller than him. His training of the Whiterun Guard was heavily influenced by his time in the Imperial Legion, so all guardsmen were taught to stand at attention when he was addressing them.
Lydia looked at her own reflection shining back at her as the warm sun drew a sheen of sweat from her commanding officer's brow.
"I'll walk up to Dragonsreach with you, it'll save time. Let's go." He turned without another word and started off towards the castle at the top of the city, and Lydia quickly moved to join him.
"Commander, if you don't mind my asking… What exactly are my orders?"
Caius took a moment before answering, no doubt suppressing the urge to berate her for some obscure breach of military protocol.
"Well Guardsman, you're being promoted."
Lydia's brow creased in concern. Promoted to what? You were either a Guardsman, or a Commander of the Guard… There wasn't a particularly nuanced bureaucracy inherent to the job…
"Sir?" She replied confusedly, allowing the single syllable to convey her whole line of thinking.
"The Jarl is appointing a new Thane, and a Thane needs a Housecarl. You're the best person I could think of for the job, so I put your name forward and the Jarl's advisors agreed."
The Commander abrupted turned to her, awkwardly sticking a hand out. She shook it numbly, still not sure of the protocol in these situations.
"Congratulations." He said without enthusiasm, then continued up the hill as if nothing had happened. Lydia followed with a perplexed look on her face, knowing what her new responsibilities were but not why she had been selected to carry them out.
"Thank you, Sir. If I may ask, who precisely am I housecarl to?"
The Commander huffed angrily, clearly being vexed by some part of the situation.
"I don't know precisely. Some manner of travelling warrior who went with the detachment to the Western Watchtower. The scumble is that they slew a dragon that had set fire to the place. We're only getting the news secondhand, as they went straight to the Jarl as soon as they returned. I know as much as you do at this point…"
Caius clearly bristled at not being the centre of attention in military matters, but that was no problem for Lydia. She could quite happily evade the attention of others for weeks at a time without any adverse effects. Indeed, it was her preferred state of being. Caius pushed open the twin doors of the Great Hall with a grandiose flourish, when one would have clearly been sufficient. Lydia could tell that the Guardsmen at the doors were rolling their eyes under their helmets.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw them close the doors behind them with a small but distinct shake of the head.
Caius was too wrapped up in his own world to notice such pedestrian things however, and he pointed forcefully at a spot on the ground in the entryway.
"Stand here, they'll no doubt be wrapping up soon. I'm sure you'll be able to pick out your new Thane, they travelled here alone…"
Lydia gave a textbook Imperial salute, something that few other Guardsmen had managed to master. This sort of thing impressed Caius greatly, and it showed. His look shifted from irritation to quiet respect, and he returned the salute crisply.
"It has been a pleasure serving with you, Guardsman Lydia. I wish you all the best in your future endeavours." He nodded resolutely and marched off, pulling both of the doors open once again in a dramatic way. As the two guardsmen once again closed it behind him, one couldn't help but whisper to the other.
"What a pile of Scrib jelly…"
Lydia carefully said nothing in response, lacking the anonymity of a helmet to protect her from a dressing-down. She checked her things one last time as the sounds of forceful conversation drifted down from the Throne Room. She immediately recognised the voice of Hrongar, which was liable to shake the teeth in your head even at low volumes. Balgruuf was slightly quieter but no less distinctive, and he was currently waxing lyrical about something or other. Probably some important piece of esoteric knowledge that Farengar had attempted to explain to him earlier, likely with little success…
She took the time to think about what kind of person she would now be serving… A slayer of Dragons, no less... She could not help but picture a Nord. Some barrel-chested berserker, covered in hair coarser than a Khajiiti rug with all the table manners of a wild Goat…
Yes, that'd be just the sort of person she would expect. Some foul-smelling mercenary sort with a battleaxe and mead-breath, who'd pick a fight with a stormcloud if he thought it was looking at him funny…
Oh, what unending joy that would be…
"Excuse me, would you happen to be my new… 'House-Carl'?"
The voice drew Lydia out of her reverie with a sickening lurch. That didn't sound very berserker-like? Nor did she detect the mead-breath that by now would be a thick fog sinking deeply into her clothes. She turned with mild apprehension to the source of the sound.
Instead of the hairy barrel-chested Nordic stereotype, a positively waifish figure stood with perfect poise in front of her. Unblemished yellow skin was mostly shrouded in surprisingly colourful travel robes. That left only a slim face, with two green eyes that looked to be the size of dinner plates to Lydia's reckoning. A thick shock of bright blonde hair fell over two excessively pointed ears, which twitched and moved to accentuate her movements. Two thin but expressive lips smiled politely, and her hands were clasped demurely over each other.
It was unmistakable. This was no lady, this was a Lady.
"Uhh… Yes, my Thane. I am Lydia, selected by the Jarl to be your Housecarl. It is… an honour to serve you."
Lydia resisted the urge to salute reflexively, almost withering under the relentlessly friendly gaze of the Elf. An almost impossibly delicate hand was offered, and Lydia hurriedly shucked off her glove in order to respond. She gently took the small hand in her own, afraid to damage the immaculate cuticles.
"What a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lydia. I am Lilielle Elsinore, formerly of the Camlorn Conservatoire."
Lydia stood in silent shock, oddly self-conscious about her rough, calloused hands. After a moment she realised that the handshake had gone on for far too long and she tore the hand away, pulling her glove back on with an embarrassed look.
"Thank you, Miss… Elsinore?"
The Elf smiled disarmingly, flashing brilliantly white teeth at her.
"Oh heavens, if we're going to be travelling together, I simply must insist that you call me Lily. Everybody does. If I may enquire, what precisely is a House-Carl?"
She pronounced the word as if she were tasting it, searching for some deeper significance or meaning that she wasn't yet getting.
"Oh, well as my Thane I'm sworn to your service. I'll guard you and all that you own with my life." Lydia responded as if by rote, trying to regain some of her rapidly escaping dignity. Lily only clasped a hand to her chest in surprise, her enormous eyes as round as saucers.
"Well I should hope that it doesn't come to that at any point! However, I believe I understand your meaning. You are something approximating a Seneschal, yes?"
Lydia honestly had no idea whether she was 'approximating' anything, but needed to sound just a little bit smarter than she actually was…
"That would be an accurate comparison, my Thane." She said with a stony clarity that she patently did not possess.
Lily clapped her hands with excitement, her pearlescent smile seeming to cast an extra ray of sunlight around the room.
"Oh, how gallant! How very gallant indeed! Like a Knight of old High Rock come to life! I am sure we shall get along marvellously, Lydia. Now, as my first order of business, I shall need to obtain some supplies in town and find suitable lodgings for the night. Can you recommend ways to obtain either?"
Lydia shook off her own paralysis long enough to consider the question, then nodded firmly. Now this was something that she could do.
"Yes, my Thane. I believe I can help with that."
Lily flashed another winning smile and curtseyed with stereotypically elfin grace. She pulled a knapsack from her dainty shoulder and presented it to the Housecarl.
"Excellent, I knew you were the right woman for the job. Would you be so kind as to carry this for me?"
She deposited the surprisingly heavy satchel into Lydia's unprotesting hands and casually sauntered off into the daylight. As one of the Guardsmen politely opened the door for her, she thanked him sweetly. Lydia could somehow tell that he was blushing under the helmet…
"Well… I am sworn to carry your burdens…" Lydia said disdainfully, staring at the satchel as if it were the cause of all her woes.
The sun had long since fled behind the Wrothgarian Mountains by the time Lily's shopping trip had drawn to a close. Lydia had faithfully dragged herself all across the markets, acting as something between a tour guide and a mule while the new Thane stopped to chat with any and everyone she passed. Honestly, Lydia found the whole experience baffling, watching helplessly as the Elf seemed to make friends everywhere she went.
They had by now spent almost an hour outside Warmaiden's chatting with Adrianne regarding some adjustments to a suit of leather armour that Lily was hoping to take away the next morning. Even the prickly smith found herself caught up in Lily's enthusiastic fascination with the mundanities of Nordic life. Her wide-eyed glee at a cheaply smithed iron helmet was a sight to behold. She saw it sitting on Adrianne's workbench and immediately snapped it up, plopping it on her head without a moment's hesitation. She struck what she assumed to be a fierce pose, staring out as the ill-fitting mask wobbled uselessly.
"Should I be wearing something like this, Lydia? Is this the sort of thing 'True Nord Warriors' are seen to wear?" She strutted up and down for a few paces like an artist's muse, striking feminine poses at key intervals. Such behaviour tore a snort of laughter from even stone-faced Adrianne, but Lydia's now permanent look of confusion was unmoved.
"Uhh… I would recommend against it, my Thane. This style of helmet is popular among those too young and inexperienced to know better. It's the sort of thing you wear when you're trying to look impressive, but it's less than useless in an actual fight."
She scratched the back of her head exasperatedly as Lily's face sank a little, as she was clearly still quite taken with the helmet.
"Whatever's the matter with it? I think it makes me look positively fearsome! Don't you agree, Adrianne?"
The smith tried to busy herself with the tanning rack but couldn't help smiling lopsidedly at the girl.
"Oh, I'm all aquiver at the sight of you, Miss Lily." She deadpanned flawlessly, tightening the cords on a cowskin meticulously to avoid eye contact. The Aldmeri smiled victoriously and put her hand on her hip in triumph.
"See, Adrianne thinks I look fearsome."
Lydia resisted the urge to sigh, instead reverting to her martial experience. She temporarily forgot that she was dealing with the Thane of Whiterun and not some new hayseed recruit and gave one of the silly goat horns a sharp tug, eliciting a squeak of shock from the wearer.
"Ow! What was the meaning of that?!" Lily yelped woundedly, attempting to restore the 'fearsome' look the helmet had once bestowed upon her with little success.
"Horns look impressive, but in a melee they're a liability. Anything that someone can get hold of is a way they can bring you into range for a fatal blow." Lydia stated matter-of-factly, reaching for another of the helmets on the workbench. This one was a better example, bereft of silly horns and with a mail skirt to protect the neck.
"Try this one, instead." She offered the helm to Lily, who peevishly placed the iron one back on Adrianne's bench. It was a better fit, but the thin lips pouted, and the large eyes drooped.
"I don't care for this one at all…" She said, pulling the steel off with a jingle. "Maybe I don't need a helmet so desperately for now. Shall I come by in the morning for the leathers, Adrianne?"
The smith looked at nothing in particular as she did some minor mental arithmetic.
"I should have it all ready to go tonight, you can stop by in the morning to pick it up. If that's no good, I can always send Ulfberth over to the tavern to leave it with Hulda? You'll be staying at the Bannered Mare, yes?"
Lily looked to Lydia for clarification, and Lydia in turn nodded in confirmation.
"That's correct. I'll be staying for tonight and hopefully heading out tomorrow."
Adrianne nodded and spat viscously into her open palm, holding it out towards the suddenly horrified Elf. Lydia embarked on what she considered the first of her official Housecarl duties and spat into her own palm, solidly grasping Adrianne's outstretched arm and shaking forcefully. The blacksmith accepted this with her trademark stoicism and went back to her work in silence. Considering the matter closed, Lydia turned to lead the Thane to the tavern. She tried very hard to ignore the unmoving mask of utter horror on the Elf's delicate face…
Camilla Valarius was sat by the fire, poring over an extremely dog-eared copy of 'The Lusty Argonian Maid' while her new assistant was organising the shop's inventory. Usually at this point in the narrative, the brave Crantius Colto would have assumed the form of either the silver-tongued Sven or the deliciously lithe Faendal, but today it just wasn't happening.
She had a different archetype forming in her mind now. Where once soft, unhardened arms would do, she could now only see Crantius as a powerfully built Adonis in full plate. The strong line of his jaw and the steely gaze of his eyes was enough to ignite a fire in Camilla's chest, and she knew that there was no going back to simple-headed local boys for her.
"Miss Valarius, firewood stacking duties are complete!" With a clang of armour plates, her new assistant returned to the front parlour, a mild sheen of sweat upon his brow. Camilla quickly tossed the book into a nearby cooking pot, hoping that he hadn't seen it.
"I await your command!" The knight announced in his strong, authoritative baritone. Camilla failed to notice the glass bottles rattling on the shelves as he spoke, so entranced was she by his manly bearing. It took her a long moment to reply, but the knight gave no indication that he noticed her flustered countenance.
"Oh! Um, well I don't actually have anything else that I need you to do…" She said with a touch of sadness. She racked her brain for a task so labour intensive that it might convince him to shed some of that armour he was trussed up in…
The knight himself accepted her statement with a resolute nod of the head, taking a step forward to ask a question of his own.
"Excellent, well given that you are somewhat less busy than you were previously, may I ask you some questions regarding any travellers that may have passed through here in the past few days?"
Camilla was upset that the question didn't involve whether she was free to take a walk along the river but took a moment to think about it regardless.
"Well… There were a group of ruffians who came through a short while ago, one of them stole Lucan's lucky golden claw and fled up to Bleak Falls Barrow with it… Although that was almost a week ago now…"
The knight seemed disappointed with her answer, stroking his chin pensively with a mailed hand. He turned away from her to think, and Camilla pouted forlornly. She noticed the impressively large Zweihander strapped to his back. It was bigger than even the claymores and battle-axes she had seen Guardsmen carry on occasion. He must have had a truly impressive physique to even hold such a weapon…
"Local traders are supposed to be a prime source of information…" He muttered wearily, giving a tired sigh. Camilla felt that she was losing his interest, so she racked her brain for anything else of note.
"Oh! An Imperial soldier came down from Helgen the other day, had an Elf girl with him. Sven told me that they stopped at Alvor's house for the night, then the girl moved on. I wouldn't know where, though."
This provoked a better reaction, as the knight turned around with a look of genuine astonishment on his strong features.
"You saw Lady Elsinore?! Was she unharmed? Was the Imperial soldier her protector or her captor?!"
He stopped short of shaking her, but clearly wanted to. Camilla was quite taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm.
"Umm… I didn't see her, actually. I'm sure Alvor or that soldier she was travelling could tell you more if you asked though…"
The knight hopped with barely contained energies, which was all the more impressive for the nearly 50 pounds of armour and sword that just hopped with him.
"I must resume the pursuit at once!"
He turned to storm out of the shop, and Camilla panicked.
"Wait!" She cried frantically, hoping that the juggernaut would come back, possibly sweeping her into his arms as if she were a scale-less Lifts-her-Tail. The knight turned back quizzically, and Camilla couldn't quite think of what the next part of her plan would be…
"Umm… I haven't had a chance to thank you for all your help around the shop." She almost whispered, trying to make her lips look more… pouty? The knight smiled with a little warmth and stood to attention.
"Nay, it is I who should thank you for your assistance!"
He turned around once more, his hand upon the wobbly door knob. Camilla's eyes darted to it in fear, desperately clawing for something flirtatious or charming she could say that would encourage the knight to stay.
"Wait! I don't even know your name! Won't you tell me that at least?" She cried, trying to pull the neckline of her dress down an inch or two to create a sense of what the knight might have referred to as décolletage.
The knight turned around once more, with a look on his face that implied that he had genuinely forgotten to introduce himself, an egregious sin that was not pardoned by the franticness of his pursuit. He stood at attention and saluted by placing a mailed fist against his chest.
"Oh heavens! Have my manners so easily deserted me?! I am Captain Dashiell de Beaumont, Seneschal to House Elsinore and Commander of the Knights of Secunda."
He bowed graciously, and Camilla felt her heart fluttering within her (partially exposed) breast. As her eyelids also fluttered briefly, she heard at the edges of perception the slamming of a door, and with a start she realised that the knight had barged out without another word.
She sighed forlornly to herself, fanning her warm cheeks with one hand while fishing around in the cooking pot for her book.
"Well done Camilla… You chased him off like a pro…" She muttered poutily, settling back down to her book with a final huff of despair.
"Wait-wait-wait… Go back to the part about the execution, I don't understand why you were there."
Lydia hadn't touched the iron tankard in front of her in nearly half an hour, so stunned was she at the story unfolding before her. Lily was idly stirring a bowl of soup that was by now tepid and fast approaching cold, her animated features contorting and reshaping themselves as she spoke.
"Oh, how ghastly it was, Lydia! So, there we were all trussed up like piglets off to market, herded in front of these Legionnaires with lists. They were sorting those blue-clad Storm-people and calling their names. They shot that poor horse-thief when he panicked, and then they called me up. Naturally I was not on the list, and so I firmly communicated my displeasure at the rude treatment I had undergone."
Lily's lips curled into a mildly embarrassed smirk, and she demurely placed a hand over her eyes in shame.
"They… well, everybody was so busy watching me argue with the Captain that nobody noticed the Dragon until it landed on top of the Keep…"
A roaring belly-laugh echoed from the opposite corner as Uthgerd sprayed a column of mead over Mikael's back, and Lydia belatedly realised that the entire tavern was as transfixed as she was by the tale.
Who could blame them, though? The new Thane of Whiterun, possibly even the legendary Dragonborn herself, was telling a story that would have been dismissed as a crass deception from anyone else. However, something about the utterly naive earnestness Lily radiated made it quite impossible to disbelieve her.
"She argued with the headsman!" Uthgerd cried, tears of laughter running down her face. The rest of the tavern took the opportunity to join her. Lydia wasn't really known as a mirthful person to the citizens of Whiterun, so nobody seemed to mind her stunned silence. Hearing the whole story had made her acutely aware of the fact that Lily had done more exciting things in the last three days than Lydia had in the last three years…
Hulda shuffled over from the bar herself to clear the table, chuckling merrily as she took away the soup and a gave the table a cursory wipe down with a rag.
"Anything else, Thane?" She asked jovially. Lily primly dabbed a tissue against her lips and gave an expressive shrug.
"Actually Miss Hulda, I think it might be wise for me to turn in for the night. May I please be shown to a room?"
She maintained that prim politeness irrespective of who she was talking to, which the locals clearly appreciated. Hulda's lips curled into a self-satisfied smile, so happy was she to be spoken to like a Lady by a Lady.
"Oh of course, Miss Lily! Won't you follow me?" She turned and walked away with a definite spring in her step, and the two travellers followed. She led them upstairs to the generous guest room overlooking the tavern's main space, and Lily yawned expressively, her ears drooping with exhaustion.
"How marvellous, Miss Hulda. This will do wonderfully. I wonder if I could trouble someone to prepare a bath for me?"
Hulda strode out to the mezzanine and called down to her tavern girl, who was clearing tables while trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid being pinched on the backside by slurring patrons.
"Saadia darling, could you start boiling some water and shuttling it up here?"
A muted 'Yes, Mum…' floated up from the floor and Lydia inwardly groaned. There was no way she was going to get out of hauling buckets of hot water up here for half the night…
"Capital, simply capital!" Lily said, placing a dainty hand over her mouth to yawn once again.
"Also, would someone kindly direct me to the washroom? I should like to freshen up before bed."
Lydia and Hulda shared a look of complete confusion at this, having never heard of a 'washroom' before. Lily took a moment to think about how best to rephrase the question, a dainty finger tapping against her equally dainty chin.
"Oh, you know, a water-closet? A toilette? A… privy?"
That last one forced a spark of recognition from the hostess, who snapped her fingers triumphantly and fished around under the bed for a moment. She returned with an unassuming wooden bucket, which she deposited on the floor with a happy smile.
Unfortunately, it didn't go over quite as well as she thought it would. Lily's face was frozen in a rictus of unparalleled fear and anguish, her hands balled tightly into fists as if she would need to fight her way out of the room. Lydia bit down the urge to laugh at the scene.
"Oh dear… oh my… oh dear… That simply won't do at all… not at all… oh no… oh my…"
Lydia and Hulda shared a look and left Lily in her state of apoplexy, heading down to fetch a tub and hot water to fill it.
After leaving the Bannered Mare, Lydia returned to the guard barracks for what might be the last time in a long while. The day-shifters were all drinking a toast to those who had been killed by the Dragon at the Eastern Watchtower. She hadn't really known Hroki or Tor all that well, but every guardsman would make an appearance at some point during the night.
Guardsmen had an unusual way of mourning their dead, and they were incredibly protective of their fallen no matter where they came from. Lydia was sat next to Wutra, who was tipsily dispensing wisdom to a couple of the newer recruits while deep into his cups.
"Now listen, lads… This is the way it has to be for us in the Guard, right? When one of your own goes to Tsun for his judging, you take care of it. You have a whip-round. Wreath, coffin, the lot. You don't let anyone else do it, even if the Jarl himself offers. We Guardsmen take care of our own, and their families are our families too."
He lazily stuffed his pipe with weeds as the other guardsmen nodded thoughtfully. Lydia had already made her contribution to said whip-round, asking Wutra to take her share from the money in her sack. She knew that Wutra could be trusted with her savings, as for all his talk he actually did believe in the brotherhood of Guardsmen. She took another slug of the warm mead and thought about what she might need to do before leaving.
With some sadness, she realised that she wouldn't need to tell anyone that she was going, because it wasn't like she had any friends or relatives in town to convey the news to. Nobody would miss her once she had gone, even amongst the other Guardsmen she was anonymous, and that wasn't likely to change…
"Hey, Lydia! Tell us about the Thane, won't you? What's she like?"
"Yes, tell us Lydia!"
Several guardsmen had sauntered over, and Lydia was suddenly involved in more conversations than she'd had all year before this. A crowd quickly formed around her, full of congratulations and toasts to her good fortune. All of them were chomping at the bit to learn more about the Thane and Lydia's appointment as a Housecarl. Though there was a great deal of jealousy among the other guards, it was all in good spirits really, and Lydia became the hero of the hour as she told them all about the Thane.
Lydia had been up at dawn, as was her habit. She was leaning against the well in the market, idly staring at the door of the Bannered Mare and waiting for it to swing open as Hulda or Saadia began their day. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed compared to most of her compatriots, who were sullenly stumbling around their patrols like headless Draugr.
She had spent some portion of the morning working on her own armour, figuring out which parts could be altered or discarded to make it a little more comfortable for extended travel. She had discarded the ill-fitting pauldrons and re-stitched a couple of rough patches on the inner lining of her greaves. She had left the last of her things with Wutra and asked him to put any remaining pay she might get in with her things until she returned.
There was little point travelling with too much coin, so she had a scant 30 septims to make do with for now. No doubt there would be opportunities to gain more as they travelled. Every inn they stayed at would surely need firewood chopped or vegetables picked, and she could pay her own way doing odd jobs while her Thane rested or did whatever they meant to do.
Finally, Hulda tossed open the door and manhandled a heavy bucket full of slops for the pig-pens out into the daylight. Everyone in Whiterun knew never to let anything go to waste, and even scraps could keep the city's pigs and chickens well fed for a septim or two. Saadia followed her out with armfuls of clothing and linens, no doubt for washing in the river. She saw a washboard tucked tightly under the girl's arm, the wooden edges almost bleached white through years of use.
Lydia gave each of them a perfunctory greeting before stepping past and into the tavern itself. Sinmir was sprawled out across his favourite bench, snoring atrociously and scratching himself in ways that no waking man would want a lady to see. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the mouthy old drunk and proceeded up the staircase, knocking gently at the door to the guest room.
"Do come in!" Came Lily's girlish voice through the wood, and Lydia stepped into the room quietly. The Thane of Whiterun was gathering the last of her effects into a satchel, and making some adjustments to her travelling leathers, which must have been delivered last night from Warmaiden's. Lydia had to admit that Adrianne did good work, the armour fitted the Elf's slender frame perfectly, allowing for excellent range of movement while still protecting key areas.
Lily threw her colourful travelling cloak over the armour and turned to face her guest.
"Oh, good morning Lydia. Did you sleep well?"
Lydia was momentarily confused by the question, not expecting a noblewoman to be concerned with such banalities. She quickly remembered that Lily was constantly trying to be friendly and chided herself for being so critical.
"Yes, thank you my Thane. I stand ready and await your commands."
She stood at attention as if she were speaking with Commander Caius, but Lily just giggled and placed her hands on her hips.
"Lydia please! I insist that you call me Lily this instance! I've no interest in travelling with someone who won't even look me in the eye for fear of being tossed in the dungeons!"
Lydia tried to correct herself in a panic, pointedly looking the girl in her enormous green eyes. She noticed the intricate patterning of the irises, which seemed more complex than any human eye might be.
"Umm… I… I'm not afraid of you, Lily. I just… it would be disrespectful to treat you as my equal, given your station here in the city. I meant no harm by it, I can assure you."
Lydia suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her own skin, she went to run a hand through her hair reflexively, realising a moment too late that it was the hand her shield was strapped to.
The heavy steel rim collided with her forehead, transferring enough force to make Lydia's head spin, and she tossed out a hand to grab the doorframe. She managed to stay upright, but any dignity she still possessed fell down the stairs in her place, never to return.
"Oh, Lydia! Are you alright?!" Lily cried, rushing forward to grab Lydia's aching head. The strangely intimate contact shocked Lydia into silence.
Maybe she was scared of Lily?
As the slim fingers touched the portion of Lydia's head which must surely have been dented by the force of the impact, an unearthy golden glow spread from them. Lydia immediately felt the throbbing pain subside, and the room around her stopped spinning and settled once again into blessed inactivity.
"A healing spell… are you a priestess?" Lydia said with barely disguised wonder in her voice. Lily only smiled, her twinkling eyes crinkled with mirth.
"Oh, nothing so involved as that, but I've had some magical training in preparation for my travels as it happens."
She checked the forehead once more for any signs of damage and then stepped back, happy with her work.
"There you are, good as new. Shall we make our way then?" Lily said happily, depositing her (somehow even heavier) satchel into Lydia's armoured hands and sauntering down the stairs.
Lydia awkwardly shouldered the satchel and followed, still somewhat in a daze for reasons that she couldn't entirely pin down.
She was willing to attribute it to the healing spell for now, though.
They both strode out into the open light of the market, striding placidly towards the main gate. There was a minor hubbub as the locals turned to gawp at and gossip about the new Thane, and Lydia attempted to make herself small.
It was no use… No matter how she carried herself, she was still taller than even most Nords. Lily was like a lighthouse beacon attracting the stares of the common folk, and Lydia hated having to stand next to her. Even more infuriating was the fact that the Elf seemed so supernaturally unbothered by the attention. She waved to the people as she passed, often greeting them by name as if they had been old friends for years.
The guards of the main gate saw her coming and scrambled to pull the heavy oaken gates open, and Lydia detected a couple of actual cheers as they left the city. When the gates were finally sealed behind them, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Right. Now, which way is Markarth?"
Lily's question threw Lydia's train of thought in another new direction. Weren't they supposed to be heading up to High Hrothgar to meet with the ancient order of the Greybeards?
"Um… Markarth, my Thane? Aren't we… that would be in the opposite direction of the Throat of the World."
Lily paused with a thoughtful look on her face, tapping her chin with one long finger.
"Oh, you mean that 'Dragonborn' business, yes? Not to worry, we'll get to that in due course. I actually have it on my to-do list."
She fished into her cloak and pulled out a small brown journal, gently opening to the last page she had worked. Lydia saw the delicate, billowy handwriting she had been expecting, and a bullet-pointed list of tasks.
Lydia noted with incredulity that 'Meet with the Greybeards to investigate the veracity of their Dragonborn theory' was third on the list, below 'Check on Tilly' and 'Go to the Bank'.
"See? First, we're going to a place called 'The Reach' to meet with my sister, it's all down here."
As quickly as it appeared, the journal was whipped back into the confines of her cloak. Lily beamed at Lydia, happy that the confusion about their plans was resolved. Lydia did not beam, as this was very much not the case.
However, Lily was the Thane… and it wasn't like the Greybeards had a particularly hectic schedule to keep, after all…
"Well, in that case… Markarth is probably about six days west of here if we travel the safer route. If we head north at the Western Watchtower, we'll have the villages of Rorikstead and Karthwasten to rest and resupply at."
Lily huffed daintily as she looked westward, evidently not liking the notion of six days on the road.
"You called it the 'safer' route, may I infer that there is a faster route available?"
Lydia pursed her lips with concern. She was hoping that Lily wouldn't notice that…
"Yes, my Thane. There is a more direct route that could have us there in maybe three days, but there would be no inns or villages along the route that I know of… and there are several bandit clans roaming the cliffs of the Reach. If I may speak freely, we would be tempting fate to travel that route."
Lydia spoke with a quiet severity that she hoped conveyed her seriousness, but it was utterly lost on Lily, who merely gripped her shoulder supportively.
"Tempting is a fine aspiration, Lydia. We should all strive to be tempting from time to time. Lead on!"
The best she could manage was to convince Lily that some camping supplies would be needed for such a journey, and the Khajiiti traders pricked up their ears at the sight of them.