A/N: Hey all! So this is my very first published anything!(Isn't this exciting? You're part of history right now!) It's also my very first fan fiction. I'm still trying to figure all of this out, so please bear with me. Also, I could really use y'all's help in letting me know how I'm doing...so please leave me reviews (good or bad), so that I can grow! And of course if you really like it, I'd be honored for any follows! :)
Chapter One: Voices and Friends
The writing on the wall called out to her. Its rhythmic beating continued pulling her closer and closer until she was engulfed in the swarm of an ancient and forgotten knowledge. She was blinded by the force that seeped into the very depths of her soul. This wasn't the first wall she had come upon, and she guessed it wouldn't be the last; but what it all meant was still an undecipherable mystery to her. As her vision began to clear a solitary word entered her consciousness…"FUS". Force. She thought to herself…though she didn't have the damnedest idea how she knew that. No time to ponder this however, for as her vision cleared entirely, the sarcophagus near her popped open and a Draugr Overlord climbed out.
The undead warrior unsheathed its ancient battle axe and charged the adventurer. Completely undaunted by the surprise of her newfound enemy, the young woman unsheathed her own two blades, and within seconds had skillfully hacked her foe back into the lifeless form it had been—stealing its soul in the process.
She took a moment to breathe and wipe the blood off her blades with the edge of her armor. She then began searching the corpse before her. A few pieces of gold, a small soul gem, and a stone tablet—which she determined must be the object of her pursuit in this gods-forsaken tomb. She then searched the elaborate chest located to the side of the wall. After sorting through the gold(which she instantly pocketed), the few pieces of enchanted armor and potions, she took what she thought would bring her a pretty penny, and began her way out of the tomb through a narrow corridor to the left of the room.
She was soon out in the open Skyrim countryside. She exhaled the air of death and decay from her lungs—air she was all too familiar with—and sucked in the cold mountain air. It was a fresh and pleasant scent of pine and snow. It reminded her of a better time that had long since passed. She took a good look around, keeping an eye and ear out for anything out of the normal. Apart from the distant howling of a couple wolves, all seemed clear. It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping rapidly, so she made her way to Riverwood—the small village located a few miles east.
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After returning the golden claw she had obtained in the tomb to the grateful shopkeeper and his sister, she made her way to the village inn—looking forward to the comfort of a fresh meal and a warm bed. She entered and headed towards the bar, where a rough looking man was wiping the counter.
"Name's Orgnar. I'm just the cook here at the sleeping Giant. If you're looking for a room, you'll have to talk to Delphine, the innkeeper." The bartender spoke gruffly.
"So where is this innkeeper?" She asked. She looked around, and realized that she and Orgnar were the only ones in the inn.
"Delphine's out right now, and can do what she wants. She owns the place." He replied, as though she should already know this.
She arched an eyebrow, "So how am I supposed to rent a room?" she asked pointedly.
"You're not. Inn's closed." He replied in the same tone. He began wiping the counter again, apparently concluding their conversation.
The young woman could feel her temper flare up inside her like a caged beast being poked with a stick. She set her jaw, turned on her heels and headed to the door. This idiot has absolutely no idea who he's dealing with. She thought darkly. But it's not actually his fault…another voice inside her head argued. I mean what kind of innkeeper leaves their inn and shuts it down completely? The darker voice answered back: The one with a death wish. She took a deep breath as she stepped back out into the cold, and let the air hiss through her teeth as she exhaled. Oh enough of this! Begone! You're no good to me anymore. She pushed the dark thoughts from her mind before they could retort back, sat on the inn's front steps and began thinking of a backup plan. I could head to Whiterun now…but it's so cold…ugh and I'm exhausted. She placed her hands on her face, rubbed her eyes and sighed. There's always the other option…she looked over to her left to what was clearly the largest house in Riverwood. But I haven't spoken with them in so long…they've probably forgotten who I am…She stood up and rubbed her hands together nervously. It's not like I have much of a choice apart from freezing to death. She shivered a bit as she resolved this in her mind and headed to the lumberjack's home.
She had only knocked twice before the door was opened and a tall blonde Nord woman stood in front of her. "Nola? Is that really you? My gods girl, come in before you catch your death!" The woman exclaimed loudly. Before Nola could say anything the Nord had grabbed her warmly by the hand and pulled her inside shutting the door behind her.
"Uh hello, Gerdur. Hod." Nola nodded to the man sitting at the table to her left. "I didn't mean to disturb you all, I just—"
"Oh nonsense! We're so pleased to see you again! It has been far too long, dear friend. Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Before Nola could even reply, Gerdur had sat her down at the table next to her husband and placed a plate heaping full of hot food and a tankard of cold ale before her. "Of course you must be starved! Eat, EAT! Do you have a place to stay? Of course you do—what am I saying? You'll stay here!"
Gerdur was still chatting on, but Nola hardly noticed. She hadn't realized how famished she really was until the food was before her. She tried desperately to not seem like an animal as she devoured the food, but once she dug in, she didn't care how she seemed. Within moments her plate and tankard were empty, her belly was full, and she realized Gerdur was still talking.
"…and we've been so happy he's been able to stay with us as long as he has." Gerdur stopped to take a breath.
Nola held up her hand, "I'm sorry…who has?" But before anyone could answer the door opened and a tall Nord man stepped in. He was strongly built, and wore the signature blue armor of the Stormcloaks—the Nordic rebels of the Empire. He was not at all unattractive with his long blonde hair and blue eyes, and looked like her could be closely related to Gerdur—which made sense since he was her brother. "Ralof!" Nola exclaimed in surprise, and jumped up to give the big man a hug.
"Nola! I can't believe it's you! I never thought I'd see you again! What're you doing here? What have you been doing? It's been ages since I saw you last!" Ralof exclaimed in equal surprise as he returned the hug. "Let me look at you!" He took a step back and took a good look at the tiny Breton standing before him.
She was tiny indeed, standing a good head and a half shorter than him, and was actually smaller than most Bretons, but not at all puny. Come to think of it, she looked entirely different since the last time he had seen her. She wore a tight fitted leather armor that looked like it fit her very feminine form perfectly—quite the difference from the awkwardly fitting Stormcloak armor he had found for her that was two sizes too big. She had a pale complexion—except now there was an ever present rosy tint in her cheeks and lips. Her deep red hair framed her face and was cut just slightly longer than the length of her jaw—another big difference from last time, where her hair had went past her shoulders in a long tangled mess. The only thing that remained the same was her bright pale green eyes shaded under dark lashes. She was, by anyone's standards, quite lovely to look at. It's the same girl I met in Helgen…yet so different. She seems so much…older now, yet more...alive. What has happened since last we met? Ralof wondered, but instantly put on a wide grin.
"You're looking well, friend! You actually look like you could stand a chance against me this time!" He said playfully getting into a fighting stance.
For the first time in what seemed like years, Nola smiled. "You cheated last time. Next time you won't be so lucky." She said with an arched eyebrow.
Ralof laughed, gave his sister a hug and then sat down next to the fire. He patted to a spot next to him indicating for Nola to sit. "It's been too long. Tell me, what have you been doing since our last visit? And what brings you back here?"
Nola was about to reply, when Gerdur stopped them both. "Now you two can wait til tomorrow to catch up. It's far too late, and Hod and I have work to do at the mill early tomorrow morning. Ralof, you'll sleep here…" Gerdur handed him a bed roll and pointed to the empty space in front of the fire. "… and Nola you'll sleep in Ralof's bed."
No one argued, and Nola was quite relieved. Amidst the excitement of reuniting with her friend, she felt the effects of the food and ale along with the warmth of the fire settling inside her—drawing her into a state of exquisite drowsiness. She wished everyone goodnight, thanked Hod and Gerdur for the hundredth time it seemed, and then settled into the warm bed. She listened to the quiet whispers and chuckles of Gerdur, Hod and Ralof as they bade each other goodnight. Soon no sound reached her ears except the crackling of the fire. These are good people. She thought to herself with a slight smile, but then the smile quickly faded away. I shouldn't be here. They don't really know me. They wouldn't want me here if they did. I should've just gone to Whiterun. She sighed as she fought the battles inside her…her mind becoming foggier as sleep slowly won her over. I'll leave first thing in the morning…she reasoned, and everything became dark.
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Nola woke up to two big blue eyes staring at her. "I remember you. You're that lady that escaped with Uncle Ralof!" Hod and Gerdur's boy Frodnar pointed out.
Nola sat up and stretched. "You've got a good memory. What time is it?" She asked looking around. She could see in the window the sun had barely risen.
"Almost breakfast time. Hey, wanna play a game?" Frodnar asked hopefully.
Nola chuckled. "Uh….sure…where is everyone?" She noticed that she, Frodnar and his dog Stump were the only ones in the house.
"Ma and Da are at the mill already and uncle Ralof is somewhere…wanna play tag?" Frodnar asked heading to the front door, not really waiting for an answer.
"Ok...But only for a few minutes." She warned, looking around to make sure no one was watching.
For the next few minutes they took turns chasing each other and laughing, until both were out of breath. "Gods…I haven't played that in years." Huffed Nola. Not to mention anything else for that matter. She shook her head and headed back inside the house. I've already delayed too long. They could return at any moment. I need to get my stuff and head out as soon as possible. She grabbed a roll of paper and a piece of charcoal out of her pack and wrote a quick "thank you" note to Gerdur and Hod for their hospitality. She then gathered her things and made a quick and quiet exit.
"Leaving so soon?" Nola started and looked to see Ralof sitting on a bench propped against the outside of the house, looking up at her with his arms across his chest. "And no goodbye? That hardly seems fair…" He said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh you…"Nola sighed exasperatedly and sat next to him.
"We didn't even get a chance to catch up. Where are you off to now?" He asked.
"Whiterun. On a job." She replied, not giving any more details.
"A job eh…? What kind of job?" He asked suspiciously, arching his eyebrow. He remembered all too well her choice of guardian stone when they had passed the three on their way from Helgen. "Or do I want to know…?"
Nola waved him off. "Oh no. Not that kind of job...this time anyway." She winked and he just shook his head. "It's actually a job for the Jarl."
Ralof's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The Jarl? Now how'd you end up with something like that?"
Nola sighed exhausted all of a sudden. "I'm not really sure. One minute I'm telling him about the dragon at Helgen, the next I'm talking to his wizard, who needs me to retrieve some sort of artifact stone thing from Bleak Falls Barrow." She shrugged. "As long as the pay is good, I guess it doesn't really matter."
"Let me get this straight. The Jarl of Whiterun gives you a job to go to Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve an artifact for his court wizard? You?" He asked incredulously.
"Yes me. Why?" Nola asked indignantly. "Don't think I could cut it?"
"Oh it's not that…I don't think even I could cut it…alone especially. Just…doesn't he have guards for that line of work, or mercenaries? Gods!" He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. "To send a woman out, alone, to retrieve a simple artifact…THIS is exactly why I'm with the Stormcloaks. The high and mighty Jarls who sit comfortably in their thrones, telling us how to live our lives—who we can and cannot worship! It's preposterous!" He nearly shouted throwing his fist into the air. He leaned back against the house then for a few moments, and Nola said nothing. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the villagers begin their daily business and the rushing of the river out near the mill. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Speaking of which…I see you never took up my offer to become one of us…a Stormcloak. We could really use you."
Nola snickered at that.
"What? We could." He replied earnestly.
Nola took a good long look at him. "Ralof, listen. I'm not…the soldiering type. I don't necessarily…play well with others….and I especially don't take kindly to orders." Ralof snickered at that. She ignored him. "…And even if I did…I'd be damned if I were to follow HIS orders—no offense!" She quickly added. She continued before he could interject, "You're actually one of the absolute few—if not the only—Stormcloak I can actually tolerate, not to mention like. I see your point of course, and I certainly don't blame you for fighting for what you believe to be right…but I'm not a Nord. And it would be pretty backwards of me to fight for someone who's against anything that isn't a Nord…especially the elves. Now don't get me wrong…I'm not for the side of the elves either. In fact, I detest the Thalmor. But I detest bigots even more. It's better if I just stay out of politics entirely." She took a deep breath hoping she hadn't angered her friend. Friends were hard to come by—especially for Nola, as she wasn't in the habit of opening up and trusting just anyone. Ralof was one of the very few people she could, without any hesitation, call "her friend". The idea of offending him in any way made her anxious—a feeling she wasn't too familiar with normally.
Ralof sat there in silence for a moment or two, but he sat back up and nodded looking over to Nola, who was staring into his face for some kind of reaction. "Aye. I understand." He said softly and gave her a grin.
Nola sighed in relief and then chuckled a bit. "Now I believe it's your turn to explain what you're doing here. Aren't you supposed to be on orders in Windhelm? Or are you playing 'hooky'?" She teased.
Ralof, however, was all seriousness in his reply. "There's been…an incident. I don't know if you've heard, but Emperor Titus Mede II is dead."
Nola's smile froze instantly and she felt her heart stop. The all too familiar taunt whispered in her ear as she felt a tightness close around her throat. You can never escape us. We will haunt your shadows. This is your fate, or have you forgotten? "Wh-what….? When? How?" She finally choked out with a tone of shock.
Ralof looked at her strangely. That's an odd reaction. He thought. "I…didn't realize you felt so much for the empire…"
Nola cleared her throat. "What? No. NO! Of course not…I…guess I was just shocked by the news…" Let me alone! You are not welcome here! Her insides screamed back. "So…what does his death have to do with you—or any of the Stormcloaks for that matter?" She asked, attempting to veer the conversation.
"The Empire is trying to pin his death on Ulfric and his men. And why not? Ever since King Torygg's death, the Empire is just itching for any reason to blame Jarl Ulfric. They don't have an ounce of proof, but that won't matter. If they decide it was our men that did this, then the inevitable bloodshed will begin. We must be ready. There's talk of marching on Whiterun in order to gain that higher ground. We're waiting on Jarl Balgruuf to determine what side he's on. I have orders to remain at one of our camps nearby until we receive word on what we shall do. I was passing through and wished to see my family. I leave this evening. We're instructed to travel by night in order to lessen the chance of being seen by the Imperials. And that is that." He leaned back against the house as he finished. He shut his eyes, but then opened them as a thought hit him. He sat up and looked at Nola—concern written in fine lines across forehead. "I wouldn't linger in Whiterun too long if I were you. Wouldn't want you to get caught in the middle. That is, if you've still a mind to go. You don't have to, you know." He said softly.
Nola half-smiled at the concern he had for her. She wasn't really used to such genuine care from others—not unless they expected something in return, that is. It was…refreshing. She placed her hand on his. "Thank you, Ralof. I wish I could stay. And believe me, I would if I could. But I promised I'd bring this—whatever this is—back..."She said patting her pack. "…and I've put this off for far too long." With that she stood up, and Ralof rose as well. "Please thank Gerdur and Hod for me." She gave her Nord friend a big hug, and stretched on her toes to peck him on the cheek. "Goodbye, dear friend. Please be safe out there."
"You be safe girl. And may Talos guide you." Ralof hugged her once more. And she set off down the road towards Whiterun. He watched her go and smiled softly as he watched her small frame saunter down the main road of Riverwood and murmured, "Farewell, Nola Underhill. I pray we meet again."