An Elf Like No Other

Hello hello, ladies and gentlemen! I'm back with the main story of my Skyrim play-through, a Bosmer (Wood Elf) named Elewiese. Readers should note that this is both the origin and main quest line for Elewiese and that any other stories of mine on her are associated only by character. If you're like me and you enjoyed playing Skyrim with mods and/or cheats then I think you'll enjoy this. I wanted to see what writing out the alchemy/'Fortify Restoration' glitch from a story perspective would look like. So here you are: an overpowered mer's adventures through the Skyrim tundra with a few OC plot twists and/or powers.

Chapter 1 - Reborn

A wood elf's palm chafed as she ground the pestle into the mortar, crushing the dried leaves into dust. She winced at the sting it brought to her hand, but blisters could be tended to after her experiments were concluded. The heat from the flame under the alembic, along with the dirt coating her arms and legs from scouring the forest foliage left an insipidly itchy feeling across her lower back.

The Bosmer maiden swept a stray auburn hair out of her face and filtered the powder through a folded papyrus cone into a vial with purified water. Her slender fingers churned the mixture with a rod and then poured it into the apparatus over the bunsen burner. Her hazel eyes glistened in the light of the fire as she watched the mixture come to a boil, the tubes of the alembic capturing the vapor and cooling it as it spiraled down into a draught. Once the distilling process was complete, she removed the draught from the alembic.

She then used a dropper to place ten dots of the mixture in a series of petri dishes, all containing samples from other solutions that were made ready, all with different properties. The effects of the concoctions in the dishes were either restorative in nature, poisonous, or could even effect one's proficiency with a certain skill. She was about to write off this mixture as a failure until the drop that landed in the last dish made a small sizzle.

The elf raised one of her thin, feminine eyebrows. "Fortify restoration?" She muttered to herself. Not overly useful, but if she ever got seriously hurt it would give her simple understanding of the healing arts a little help. Confident in the mixture's effect, all that was left was to test its effectiveness. Being a little rusty on even her most novice Healing spell, she retrieved the spell tome from a nearby bookshelf. She began flipping through the pages, eyes following along the diagrams, all the while she absentmindedly tipped her head back and downed the new mixture.

Almost immediately, she doubled over in pain, the draught and tome tumbling out of her lap and onto the floor. Oddly enough it wasn't her throat or stomach that was burning and felt sickly as they normally did when she accidentally drank a newly discovered poison, but rather it felt like her head was going to explode. The pain was beyond anything she'd ever felt. She reached for the vial of poison curative that she always kept within arms reach of the alchemy table, all the while wondering how in the world she had miscalculated the mixture's properties so entirely.

Did I mislabel my mixtures?, a coherent portion of her mind asked. Her hands fumbled with the cork of the curative when suddenly the pain faded just as quickly as it had come. Having ceased spasming, she took a moment to catch her breath, placing a hand on her still throbbing head. "What was that?" She asked no one in particular.

The pounding in her head subsided, but as the girl lowered her hand, another strange sensation grew more and more insistent; a ringing sound in her ear. It was a sensation she'd experienced very few times in her life after hearing a loud noise or if someone shouted right next to her ear, but instead of fading away, it only got louder. Oddly enough as she swiveled her head around in an attempt to shake off the ringing, she realized it seemed to be emanating from an item on the lowest shelf on the corner of the alchemy table.

The girl picked up her mother's ring with a sweaty and shaking hand. It was a simple trinket of intricately twisted silver that contained knowledge of alchemy. She always took it off when experimenting; there was no need to make a mystery poison any more potent than absolutely necessary. As the ring slipped into her palm the ringing intensified.

The Bosmer shook her head in disbelief. What is going on? The ring had never before exhibited any property other than increasing the potency of alchemical concoctions, and yet here the ring sat…seemingly calling to her, begging her to put it on.

With a trembling hand, she slipped the ring onto her finger. Looking back on it, she couldn't believe how stupid she was to listen to this unknown, primeval, hypnotic force within the ring, or the mixture, or whatever it was causing her to quickly lose her mind. As anyone else might've expected, and as the ring settled at the base of her finger, the noise grew exponentially. She wasn't certain when exactly she fell to the floor to lie in the fetal position, but the horrible shriek stabbing through her head intensified to the the point that she couldn't even hear her own screams of agony over it.

And then, just when she'd resigned herself to a slow and agonizing death, the noise died faster than a snap of the fingers. The girl spent a moment on the floor, too stunned to do anything other than breath. But as she regained her awareness and began thinking, an awed gasp replaced her shaky breathing.

Instead of wondering what just happened, the girl found herself thinking of anything else, everything else. And not just thinking about these things, but she understood them too. Whatever popped into her head. All of it. Knowledge flowed through her mind faster than she could process it. Tears welled up in her eyes as the elf curiously browsed the shelves of ingredients and concoctions, suddenly having a profound, all-knowing, in-depth understanding of each and every item on the shelves. Some she'd never even known. Her hands began moving on their own, almost in a possessed fashion, and began clearing the alchemy table to start anew.

She didn't even have to think about what her hands were doing. Instead, her thoughts turned to other things, like the spellbooks on the shelf, or her mother's bow on the wall and her lack of inherent Bosmer skill with it, or the lockbox with a modest collection of coins in it on her bedside table. The more issues the elf grew aware of, the more she realized there was a solution for every one of her problems. She glanced at her hand and realized the ring was still emanating the shrill, hollow ringing albeit muted now. Where is this knowledge coming from?

She shook her head. Forget everything else. Just work before it goes away. If it goes away… The elf cast all other thoughts aside and worked for hours, maybe days, on the 'solutions' to her problems.

6 Years Later

To be completely honest, Elewiese wanted to die. As she regained consciousness in the back of the bumbling cart, the Bosmer made no effort to subvert her fate. She registered that her captors were Imperial soldiers and vaguely listened to the men she shared the cart with.

The man in front of Elewiese addressed her and and seemed apologetic as he reminded her how she got into this mess, wandering into some kind of an ambush. She remembered having been out scouring for ingredients in the Jerall Mountain region, likely going so far as to pass the border into Skyrim, when she blundered into a campsite, from which she recognized two of the men in her cart. Before she could even react to them, some twerp initiate Imperial soldier clobbered her over the head with a shield bash. She saw the blow coming, could've even countered, but why? What would be the point?

The man in front of her muttered some nonsense about the 'true High King', which seemed to panic the man next to him. He inquired about their fate to which the first man replied. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

Sovngarde? The honored Nordic land of the dead? These soldiers meant to kill us? Oddly enough, the thought brought a flicker of hope to the elf's heart. Elewiese was so tired. Everything she'd accomplished, everything she'd built; it all seemed dwarfed by the insurmountability of her enemy. What hope did her small acts of rebellion have when a nation couldn't defeat them.

Speaking of the which, the elf's tired eyes flickered with fire as the man in front of her noted the presence of the Thalmor, speaking to some general named Tullius. The idea that the Thalmor would be involved in her death, while unsurprising, left a sour taste in Elewiese's mouth. Whatever the case, she just wanted it to be over.

The elf continued to listen to the man in front of her ramble as men who are at peace and about to die do. Mostly though, she admired her surroundings. So this is Skyrim? She'd heard it described, read volumes on the bountiful beauty of the the land, but those words did it little justice. It was a breathtaking land albeit, as truth would have it, cold. Their cart rolled through what the talkative man called Helgen, it's villagers coming to gawk at the prisoners.

The cart hit a bump, jarring her weary body. The jolt made her stomach growl. She hadn't eaten for days, although that wasn't too uncommon when she went out to gather ingredients. She had no desire save for dying, however the lack of energy hunger provided left her profoundly weak.

When the cart came to a stop. The talkative Nord seemed pleased, even remarked they shouldn't keep the gods waiting. The elf grasped her necklace that contained the charms of eight of the nine divines and nodded lightly, though she wasn't sure if he saw. She wondered absentmindedly if the dead were greeted by the divines, as some cultures believed. The chance to meet the mighty Talos and mother Mara excited her, at least mentally.

Everyone stood and began stepping off the cart. Elewiese tried too, but found herself too weak. Her carriage companion hooked a strong arm under hers and gently lifted her up. They shimmied down the steps, only lightly tripping. He muttered how the Empire loved their damn lists when men with quills and parchment began calling off names. She was all too familiar with their affinity for protocol.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The man looked up when his name was called. He looked to the Bosmer who nodded her thanks, then returned to his High King's side.

The horse thief's name was called, despite his denial of being party to these Stormcloaks. In a fit a of panic, he ran, only to be skewered by arrows at the order of the disgruntled captain.

"You there, step forward." The man with the list said. She did her best not to fall on her face as she approached. The exertion of keeping vertical was proving difficult. "Who are you?"

Here it was; her last chance. She could tell them. Even if they didn't believe her, they would have to stay her execution until they could confirm it. Just say it, the last shred of her dignity and self-preservation pleaded in her mind. The Lady of the Elixirs. "El-… Elewiese…" Her eyes were heavy and her throat was dry.

"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list." The young Nord eyed her with pity. The elf's frame was thin, malnourishedly so. Dark circles lay under eyes covered by her disheveled auburn hair.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block." The captain spoke without sympathy or even a hint of forethought. Bitch.

"By your orders Captain." The Nord winced and looked apologetically to the elf. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood."

Interesting. Elewiese wondered if her mother would even be lucid enough to understand that she was dead. Would she even care? Would she be thrown into one of her fits? Her heart felt heavy thinking about it, so she stopped. The idea of how much trouble her execution would cause within the Empire, however, amused her greatly. The Empire would likely behead any and all involved in her death. Hopefully they'll start with that bitch captain.

The Bosmer turned and made it two steps before stumbling. The captain snorted with indifference. The Nord soldier handed his list to an attendant and knelt to pick her up. Together he helped her to hobble to the line awaiting execution. He found an open spot in the courtyard and eased the elf onto the ground, gently. He thought he saw a glimmer of appreciation in her eyes before he returned to his post.

Elewiese internally remarked at how the two men who had shown her equal measures of kindness in the past few minutes belonged to such opposing factions. Peripherally she saw the General, Tulius, approach the man she'd ridden next to on the cart, the so called 'true High King'.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero," the General said with clear disdain. "But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." The leader of the rebellion could only growl muffled complaints in response. "You started this war," the General accused. "Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

Fools, Elewiese thought to herself. Neither the Empire nor this false king can see past their own ambition, toward their true enemy. For all my knowledge, for all my skills, I cannot overcome the will of a nation. She closed her eyes and heard only the birds singing and the wind rustling the trees. I have no power. I have no voice.

A sound rolled across the sky in same manner that thunder does, only there was no rain. It was a roar that seemed to ripple beyond a veil of air, but its effect hit home. Elewiese began convulsing on the ground, groaning in pain. The blood in her veins sizzled as if it were oil, and the roar in the sky had been a flame to ignite it. Soldiers and prisoners alike looked from the sky, to her. None too quickly, the roar died, and Elewiese found she could breath again. The soldier who had helped her voiced his thoughts. "What was that? Did she do that?"

General Tullius looked to the elf warily and snapped his fingers to the Captain in Elewiese's direction. "Carry on."

The captain shoved a soldier towards the Bosmer, telling him to keep an eye on her. "Yes, General Tullius! Give them their last rights." She said to the priestess.

Elewiese barely heard the priestess commend their souls to Aetherius and bless them by the eight divines. In recent years, it'd become more and more common to hear of the Eight, not the Nine; but it still perplexed her to hear. The pompous high elves of the Thalmor knew as well as she Talos was indeed a mortal who ascended to godhood. Their campaign to smear his divinity was merely a ploy to weaken the god of mankind, all because he subjugated them as a mortal several hundred years ago.

That was hardly of concern though. The majority of Elewiese's concentration was trying to figure out what in Oblivion just happened. A roar…that churned her blood… Surely Hircine wouldn't interfere. Yeah, he was sweet on her, but he made it clear he would not prevent her death.

One of the Stormcloaks, arguably more eager for death than even Elewiese, interrupted the priestess. She watched with mute fascination as the fool goaded their captors up until the last moment when the axe fell. The ginger man's head fell into the waiting basket. The smell of blood sent another wave of hunger rolling through Elewiese's stomach, but she abstained from any action.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof said sadly.

Again, a roar ripped through the sky, louder this time. Elewiese could not contain the scream of agony this time. She shuddered, the feeling consuming her once more. Everyone looked at her horrified. Sweat matted her skin & hair, and mud smeared on her ragged clothes as she writhed in the dirt. Finally, it stopped. She slumped and breathed shakily.

"There it is again." The soldier scanned the horizon. "Did you hear that?"

The captain glared and drew her sword, pointing it at Elewiese. "The wood elf is casting some kind of spell! She's next on the block."

"Captain, I don't think she-"

"I said next prisoner." She said sternly. Gods, what a bitch.

The nice soldier sighed. "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." He helped her from the ground and practically carried her to the headsman's stump. Elewiese's head was placed on the block. She saw through the strands of her auburn hair that stuck to her face and looked up at the cowl of her executioner. Time slowed to a crawl as he lifted his bloody axe. The elf, pained and hurting, let out one final, labored breath and waited to die.

Then her destiny began.

Elewiese watched the headsman's shoulders tense as he was about to bring down the axe, but something else caught her eye. She wasn't the only one. A flurry of questions erupted behind her until a enormous black mass landed on the tower behind the headsman, knocking him off balance. "Dragon!" One of the prisoners exclaimed.

The beast regarded them all with eyes like burning coals. Wicked pointed thorns ran along its body. The dragon's wings were so large and so black, they made it seem as though part of the sky had turned to night. It was sleek, deadly, and powerful. Elewiese swore his eyes lingered a bit longer on her, even that the corners of its maw lifted in humor. The soldiers all drew their weapons, and not a moment later the dragon let loose a terrible roar, but it wasn't a roar per se. It was more enunciated, like it was shouting at them.

A blast of a air nocked into the crowd blowing several of them off their feet. Being so close, Elewiese felt the full force of the blast, but instead of being knocked back by it, it passed through her and vibrated through every corner of her body.

All hell broke loose. The dragon shouted again using different words this time. Molten rock began raining from the sky, smashing into houses and battlements. General Tullius called for the guards to rally and to get the townspeople to safety. The prisoners and villagers alike rabbited in all directions. Elewiese hardly paid attention though. From the first roar that had made her blood boil to that blast of force when the dragon shouted at her, she could almost hear echoes of the noises the dragon made. They seemed to be words from a language she couldn't quite put her finger on. It shouldn't have surprised her. Tamrielic was the only language she knew, but she couldn't help but feel there was another language she should know. One that made her blood tingle with sensation when the dragon spoke.

In any case, it was chaos. Elewiese was finally roused from her stupor when her fellow prisoner yanked her from the ground. "Hey, get up!" Ralof yelled. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!"

She was pretty sure the gods weren't the cause of this. Anyone would have been fueled by adrenaline in this situation, but the stirring inside Elewiese was something more. She couldn't even feel the pangs of hunger or the scrapes on her knees and palms. A soldier was struck by a meteor to their left as they ran for a stone tower.

As soon as Elewiese was in, the door was shut behind her. A couple of the stormcloaks were bleeding out on the floor and tending their wounds. The rest were glued to the windows trying to catch a glimpse of the beast as it soared overhead. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked his king.

The rebel leader had done away with the gag in his mouth. To his credit, he maintained a calm demeanor, but Elewiese could sense the panic in his voice. "Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now!"

The elf looked around and noticed the stairs leading up in the tower. While altitude wasn't entirely desirable with a dragon running amuck, they would be able to scan their surroundings for a safe place. She tapped Ralof on the shoulder and pointed up. He smiled, despite the situation, and nodded. "Up through the tower, let's go!"

She clambered up the steps. A rebel was hunched over examining the rubble that blocked way to the highest floor of the tower. "We just need to move some of these rocks-" The wall next to him exploded, stones crushing him as they fell. The snout of the dragon appeared. Elewiese fell back, startled, but was caught by Ralof. They felt a rush of air as the beast inhaled, readying to let out his awful voice again. "YOL…TOR…SHUL!" Ralof held Elewiese against the wall, the torrent of flames rushing past them and flowing up the tower. Then the dragon was gone, off to wreak havoc elsewhere.

Ralof and Elewiese both exhaled in relief before peaking out the new hole in the wall, surveying the situation. Just across the way was a thatched building, a tavern maybe, with a collapsed roof. They could make it. "See the inn on the other side?" Ralof put a steadying hand on her back. "Jump through the roof and keep going." She looked at him worriedly. "Go! We'll follow when we can!" She nodded as he turned to head back down the stairs, and backed up a few feet before leaping out the hole.

Elewiese's senses were on hyper alert. As she soared through the air she peripherally witnessed the dragon swoop down to snatch an archer off the parapets. She landed with a roll and continued forward, sliding as she came upon a hole leading down to ground level. The smoke made her cough. She leapt through an open doorway to find the Nord soldier from before protecting a small group of villagers. "Haming, you need to get over here! Now!"

A boy ran from a wounded man's side and into the soldiers arms just as the dragon landed. "Torolf!" In an instant, the dragon let loose another bout of flame, reducing the wounded man to ash. "Gods…everyone get back!"

Elewiese absentmindedly rolled those words over and over in her head. Yol Tor Shul. Yol Tor Shul. She had heard that before…hadn't she? The soldier interrupted her trail of thought. "Still alive prisoner? Stick close to me if you want to stay that way!" Elewiese knew it was her best shot for survival, so she nodded. The soldier turned to a villager. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense."

Gunnar placed his hands on Haming's shoulders and saluted him. "Gods guide you, Hadvar."

Hadvar quickly glanced around before turning to the Bosmer. "With me prisoner, let's go!" They ran towards the ruined battlements and dropped off a small ledge. The hair on Eleweise's neck stood up and she pushed him against the wall. Hadvar reached for his sword, thinking she was trying to get the drop on him when the dragon landed directly above them. She pressed her body against him and the wall as the beast roasted another victim. It took flight once more, and the elf backed away from the soldier. His mouth hung open a moment before he corrected himself. He nodded his thanks and gestured for her to stick close. Elewiese smiled and obeyed.

They passed the charred corpse of a soldier and moved through a ruined house, coming upon a contingent of soldiers attempting to rally under the orders of the general. Tullius noticed the two of them emerge. "Hadvar! Into the keep soldier, we're leaving!"

He continued leading her along. "It's you and me prisoner, come on." Imperial mages cast firebolts at the hulking mass in the sky. What few strikes hit seemed to have no effect. They ran, exertion getting to the both of them (mostly Hadvar), until they came face to face with Ralof. He had made it out of that tower after all and had managed to arm himself.

Hadvar glared at the rebel. "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

Ralof seemed to hold just as much animosity for the soldier. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

Hadvar growled in frustration and simply ignored him, instead running for a side entrance to the keep. Ralof began running towards the keep's main entrance, but the dragon flew overhead and knocked his tail into the tower. Rubble rained down blocking the door. Elewiese ran over and tugged Ralof in the direction Hadvar had gone. He seemed reluctant, but followed nonetheless.

Elewiese pushed Ralof through the door and glanced once more behind her. The dragon had just landed on the adjacent tower. She could've sworn he looked down directly at her. A rumble rolled through the air, as though the dragon was laughing, and clear as day she heard him speak. "Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki." Strangely, Elewiese was equal parts terrified and enraged as she entered the keep.

She closed and latched the fort door behind her, but stopped when she turned. Havdar and Ralof were circling each other predatorily. She quickly ran between them. "Hey!" They both stopped, surprised. It was the first time the elf had spoken since she had dejectedly muttered her name. Her voice was light and sing-songy, but with a foreign accent. "In case you both hadn't noticed, a dragon is attacking, so how about we stow the petty political squabbles for now. Okay?"

They both sighed and sheathed their blades. "Let's just find a way out of here." Ralof muttered.

Hadvar retrieved a knife from his boot and approached the elf. "Here, let me see if I can get those bindings off you." Elewiese didn't really feel like telling him she could have ripped through them without much effort, so she let him cut them. They were in an barracks of sorts, beds and personal effects lining the walls. "See if one of these chests has some armor for you." Hadvar recommended.

Elewiese went through one and found an old set of leather armor, some greaves, and an iron sword. She held it up and looked to the two men who waited watching her. She glared and cleared her throat. They both blushed and turned to give her privacy. The elf quickly changed, the Nords listening as her tattered rags fell to the floor. They both swallowed hard as they looked to each other, the awkwardness killing them. "Well, how do I look?"

They both turned and gawked. She twirled to give the full picture. Even in such rough armor and with her skin dirtied & hair disheveled, she was a radiant creature. "Great." They both said. She smiled.

A roar made the walls shudder. "We should leave, now." She stated. Hadvar pulled a chain which opened a portcullis on the far side of the room. They made their way through the atrium of the keep and began descending some stairs. Elewiese was worried about running into other soldiers, given Hadvar's reaction to Ralof. Luckily, the keep seemed deserted, it's occupants either dead from the dragon attack or already having escaped. Hadvar rounded a corner and the other two followed. The tunnel shook violently and the forward path caved in.

"Damn," Ralof coughed through the dust. "That dragon doesn't give up easy."

There was a side passage that was open. "Could it really have been a dragon, the bringers of the end times?" Hadvar asked.

"I don't know Hadvar, but I don't think we should stick around to find out." Ralof replied.

They moved through a storage room. Hadvar mentioned that the Imperials kept potions stored in there. Her interest piqued, Elewiese searched through the nearby containers but scoffed at she found. "What is it?" He asked.

The elf held up a basic healing potion. "We might as well lick our wounds. That's about all these can do." She stuffed them in her pack regardless.

"I take it you know a little about alchemy."

"Just a few tricks." She lied.

"Done then?" Ralof stood at the far door. He opened it and peaked out. "Come on, this way."

They began descending more stairs, coming to a room lined with cages. "The torture room. Gods, I wish we didn't need these…" Hadvar muttered.

"You don't." Ralof growled.

"Please Ralof, you can be damn sure the Stormcloaks are no better." He looked like he wanted to argue with Hadvar but stayed his tongue. Maybe he knew he was right.

The rebel eyed the middle of three cages on the far wall. Hadvar searched the jailers corner for equipment. A book on a round table in the middle of the room caught the elf's eyes. "The book of the Dragonborn…" She whispered to herself. She flipped through pages, remembering the legends the more she read. Mortal beings blessed with the blood of dragons; the blood of the one divine being she couldn't stand.

Elewiese's grip on the book tightened, thinking of Akatosh. She skipped ahead and pondered for a moment on the Prophecy of the Dragonborn. The last section really struck her for some reason…

When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding, the World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.

The World-Eater…

The Last Dragonborn…

"Damn!" Elewiese looked over to see Ralof bang on the locked cage he was trying to open. She rolled her eyes and stowed the book in her pack. She grabbed a lockpick off the table and went over to him. She worked on it for barely a second until the lock fell to the ground and the door swung open. She grinned broadly and leaned casually against the cage. Ralof grunted in humor and gestured for her to help herself. Elewiese stripped the mage's body of his belongings and clapped her hands together, ready to continue.

Hadvar lead them through the dungeon that seemed to connect to an old cave system. They came into a large room with a stream running through it. On the far end was another tunnel that seemed to dead end into a wooden wall. "There." Ralof pointed to the lever on the right. Elewiese pulled it and the wooden wall swung down to become a bridge. Interesting.

Not a second after they'd crossed, a cascade of rubble took out the bridge. Hadvar pushed Ralof forward and had to roll to avoid being crushed. Elewiese helped pick up one Nord and moved to check on the other as they all dusted themselves off. "Thanks…Hadvar…" Ralof said begrudgingly. "I owe you one."

Hadvar looked up from the elf who was kindly tending to a scrape he'd received on his arm. "Let's just call it even. I still owe you for covering for me the time I snuck out past my uncle's curfew." That earned a laugh from the both of them.

Elewiese finished wrapping Hadvar's scrape with a clean cloth and chuckled along with them. "So, I take it you two are acquainted?"

Their laughs died quickly. Ralof scratched the back of his head. "We just grew up together."

"Where at?"

"Town, not too far from here." He looked to Hadvar. "You reckon we should head home?"

The other Nord nodded. "Aye. We can't very well wander around the countryside as tattered as we are. I'm sure my uncle will be willing to help us."

Ralof nodded. "My sister too. We'll need a place to clean up and restock before heading out."

Hadvar glared at him. "You don't seriously think I'm gonna let you get away."

"I told you Hadvar, you won't stop me."

The Nords glared at each other before they heard Elewiese clear her throat again. She had a scolding look on her face and her hands were on her hips. The men turned their noses up at each other and began walking again. The elf followed.

They came upon a large cavern with webbing across the walls. Bodies and rodents were strung up all over. The trio stepped warily through the space. Movement caught Eleweise's eye, and in an instant she'd sent a firebolt up and through the silken string a massive arachnid was descending on. The spider smashed face first into the ground. Elewiese drove her sword through its body before it could recover. Four or five more giant spiders emerged but were no match for the seasoned Nord warriors.

The wood elf leapt onto the last one, severing it's head completely in one strike before somersaulting off it. She wiped the sweaty grime off her forehead but stopped when she saw the two men gawking at her again. She smiled and hummed, pleased with herself as she pushed forward through the cave. Ralof recovered and lightly elbowed Hadvar out of his stupor. They caught up quickly.

They journeyed along the twisting cavern and came upon a huge mass of fur lying atop a pile of old bones. "Hold up." Hadvar whispered. "Looks like there's a bear just up ahead. I'd rather not tangle with her right now."

Elewiese thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. They looked to her questioningly. "I'll keep its attention. I'm a Bosmer so I should be able to keep it calm for a short while. When it's focused on me, you two sneak past." They both looked at her worriedly to which she rolled her eyes and pushed them along.

As Elewiese tentatively approached the great bear, her two Nord companions crouched low and began inching their way past. The bear twitched and grunted, noise rousing it from its slumber. It looked up with furrowed brows at the approaching elf. Elleweise held up her hands in peace. She could feel the annoyance of the bear. The only thing stopping it from advancing on her was the shear will of her Bosmer nature (Command Animal). "Hey there, old girl." She whispered cautiously. "Don't mind us. Me and my friends are just gonna get out of your way, okay?" She inched closer to her, even going so far as to place a hand on her snout. The old grizzly seemed to roll her eyes, much to the elf's amusement, before setting her head back down and returning to sleep. "Thank you." Elewiese whispered before departing after her companions.

As she exited the mouth of the cave, Ralof chuckled. "Shor's bones! I'm sure glad you're a wood elf. That bear looked like more than we could handle-"

A shadow passed over them and Hadvar grabbed both their arms, forcing them to crouch. "Wait!" A roar above them drew their eyes to the dragon flying north. Elewiese got one final look at the beast, a myriad of emotions twisting in her gut like a hot knife. It could be she was just frightened of it, right? "Looks like he's gone for good this time," Hadvar laughed dryly. "But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back."

Ralof nodded. "So, to Riverwood?"

"Aye." Hadvar agreed before looking to Elewiese. "And you, lady elf?" She giggled at his attempt at chivalry. Ralof glared. "Will you be joining us?"

"Only if it isn't too much trouble." She ventured.

Ralof cut in. "You'll be welcome, of course. Shall I lead the way?"

Hadvar looked as though he were about to elbow Ralof but Elewiese spoke again. "Actually I'll meet you two in town. I'm going to hunt for a bit, clear my head." She had a far away look in her eyes, so neither Nord argued. She glared as she returned her attention to the two of them. The elf put one hand on her hip and pointed scoldingly at the two of them. "If you two kill each other before I get to town, I'll never forgive you."

They both backed away and held up their hands in innocence. She smiled and stood on her tippy toes, kissing the both of them on the cheek. "Thank you, both of you. You saved my life." They both blushed and twiddled their thumbs sheepishly. Elewiese jogged off into the brush. "I'll meet you before nightfall!" She shouted, and then she was gone.

It was late in the afternoon with the sun low in the sky. Just outside the small hamlet of Riverwood, a hare bound around a clearing, foraging for something to eat. A twig snapped, and the rabbit lifted up onto its hind legs, ears perked and listening for danger. After a few moment of silence, the hare returned to eating, only to be set upon by a large, furry creature. It struggled for a moment before the creature closed its maw around the rabbit's neck, ending its life quickly and with mercy.

The creature had set upon the rabbit's body, devouring the heart and moving on towards its fleshy haunches when the brush rustled behind the creature. Looking behind itself, the creature found a fox. It shared many of the same features as the creature; red fur, pointed ears, long bushy tail. The fox eyed the corpse of the rabbit, disappointed.

"My apologies," the creature spoke in a feminine voice, drawing the fox's attention. "But first come, first served." The creature giggled before returning to its meal. The fox turned away to find something else to hunt for.