Elae

Chapter One

Her head broke the surface of the water and she coughed, spewing freezing water out of her mouth. She coughed and shook, cursing the north for being cold. Moving her freezing hands out of the water, she climbed out on a ledge that as just barely above the surface.

She couldn't even feel her fingers and her clothes were soaked through. She wanted to sit down and shut her eyes, rest for a while, but the smart part of her mind told her that she wouldn't wake up.

She flinched when she saw that the ledge of the ship was a small wooden island. The Breton cursed and slowly let her hands get engulfed in a flame spell. She was no mage, but had learned a bit of destruction, restoration, and conjuration to keep her parents happy. Turns out it was saving her fingers at the moment.

Feeling, or mostly pain, returned to the unusually pale digits, and the dark-haired young woman flexed them with no problem.

"Gods damn me," she groaned, shaking her soaking head. Time for another dive.

She passed into the cold, dark water once more, even though her body ached in protest. The cold physically hurt, and this dive was much longer than the other one. She found her way to the stairs and practically ran up them. Her body collapsed at the top of the flight and she coughed, almost curling into herself.

This time, she did close ice-laced eyelashes, and would have fallen asleep and probably died if the ship hadn't jerked and sent her into a panicked state. She forced herself up and staggered over to a small pile of- thankfully dry- wood. Using the fire spell, she set it aflame and sat down, grateful the floor was damp and refusing to catch on fire.

She got rid of the sopped clothing and folded it, placing it by the fire and instantly beginning to warm up more. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slowly got up and, crossing her arms over her chest, began to search the rest of the ship.

After looting an unfortunate Redguard who seemed to have frozen to death, she had new clothes and an iron dagger. Her coin purse was still full, thankfully, which meant she still had around three hundred gold left. Nothing else in the level held any interest, so she headed back over to the fire.

There was a gaping hole in the side of the overturned ship, so with a grunt, she hoisted herself up. Lightly stepping along the side of the blasted boat, she slid down to a patch of ice, slightly slipping.

"Damn, damn, damn," she swore as she slid a bit. After waving her arms around like a maniac, she managed to regain her balance and start her very careful trek across the ice paths. How could the captain have missed this much ice? It was almost as if he'd been aiming for the chunks of frozen water.

A little ways off, she found an old Orc and took the Imperial sword on his belt, switching the dagger to her right and the sword on her left. At least dangerous animals and people would be no problem for her at this point,

She could see the mainland after three more minutes of half-walking, half-skidding, and let out a sigh of relief. Her immune system had a history of failing her, and she'd definitely caught some sort of cold, if not worse. She rubbed her dripping nose, then let out a sneeze that probably alerted every living thing in Skyrim about her presence.

A small fin breached the surface of the water to her left and she cursed, readying her weapons. Her mother had warned her about slaughterfish before, and showed her some nasty scars from a small accident with them.

"Alright," she mumbled. "As long as I stay on land, I'm sa-"

Her whole body dropped like a rock once again into freezing water. Struggling slightly, she attempted to breach through the hole that had put her in this very unfortunate situation. Before she could, though, sharp teeth dug into her hand, yanking her back down. Forcing a cry down, she tried a water-slowed swing at the fish.

The arm holding the weapon was stopped, though, by another pair of teeth. She kicked, feeling her lungs burning as the damned things pushed her further down.

The one biting her hand let go and clamped down on her side again, digging its teeth into her soft belly. She screamed this time, causing bubbles to mix with the crimson cloud above her. Water filled her mouth, replacing the breathable air.

No, no, no. She'd just survived drowning to death. Was she going to live through that only to drown to death?!

The young Breton struggled more, choking on the salty liquid, refusing to accept her death. The slaughterfish were vicious little things, but she could be more so. She would be more so.

And, as if the gods above were listening to her prayers, one of the stupid fish her go. At the point she was at, her vision was blacking out, but she could barely make sense of an arrow going through the thing. The other one released her, and she faintly heard a splash from above.

It was as her father always said, she decided as hands yanked her upwards. Will can get you through just about anything.


Waking up was a fun chore. Everything seemed cracked with cold, including her eyelids. Still, the bedroll she lay in was warm and toasty, as was the fire outside the tent.

"Owwwww," she moaned as she sat up, flinching.

"Ah, you are awake." The Breton glanced up, trying to locate the source of the rough female voice. "I got some fur armor from bandits nearby. It's beside you."

Well, convenient. Way too awfully convenient.

Still, she took comfort in the dry clothes and headed out of the tent, still flinching. The voice belonged to what seemed to be a young Bosmer, bearing a head of straight white hair. A small wolf pup lay at her feet, eating bloody venison from her fingertips.

"Um, hi," said the Breton, eyeing the raw food. "Have anything… else?"

Wordlessly, she was handed half a loaf of bread in which she gulped down ravenously. After chasing it down with several swigs of water, she felt better. The fire was warm and the elf hadn't attempted to kill her.

"… Do you believe will saved you?"

The sudden words made her jump, and very frightened, "Huh?" escape her.

"You were mumbling something about your father and will. Do you believe that?"

"I…" By the gods, why was she tortured with this type of thinking right as she was recovering from almost dying twice? "I dunno. You don't seem much older than me, so it's a weird question to ask!"

"How old are you?" The question wasn't asked with any vicious intent, so it was answered truthfully.

"Nineteen."

"I'm 177."

"… Oh." Gods damn me. I always forget that elves live far longer than men.

They sat in silence, her question not being answered. The wolf pup settled down for a nap at the Bosmer's feet, and the fire danced in her amber eyes. The other girl was about to fall asleep, too, bathed in warmth, when she was suddenly spoken to again.

"My name is Riefi."

After calming down from the scare, she sniffed in through a congested nose and coughed a bit. "Elae. Mine's Elae."


Finally! A Skyrim fanfic! Yeeeeeey

For now, I'm going to be doing (possibly) short fanfics of all characters that'll meet up in one big story with the Dovahkiin! Yes!

Who doesn't love an odd, out-of-place, easily sick and completely lost Breton? Hopefully she'll be okay in this big country called Skyrim. Also, if I get any terminology or lore wrong, PLEASE correct me in the review. Politely is preferred, but be rude if you wanna, I guess.

Also, I have no clue how long Bosmer live. I Googled it and the average seemed to be 400 years. So, I'mma settle for that.

Review~!