Ebony and Leather

"I would even sell one of my own relatives!"

"That's nice."

"No really! If you've got the coin, I'll bargain just about anyth-"

"That's all I have Belethor."

The Breton looked perplexed for a moment, pawing at his squared chin. He quickly regained his cheerful demeanor. "Well, come back anytime, all right? Maybe once you're old enough you can purchase some of my finest Nord mea- "

"I really am sixteen years."

Belethor seemed to internally laugh at this. "Sure, sure..."

Belethor's customer had not waited long enough to see the trademark farewell smile however, already making his way out of the store, leather straps lightly slapping the ground in synchronized beats. His brown, tattered armor squeaked as continued his exit out of the spacious but dusty shop. Small but thick beams of sunlight gratefully snuck in as the boy began pushing the wood away from him, revealing a sixteen year old head with long dark locks that masked a sharp but youthful Nord face.

"Bring more coin next time boy!"

He snarled, or at least tried to - before shoving the thick door outwards and stepped into the blinding sunlight, holding up a hand to keep the brunt of the lumination at bay. Almost immediately, he was met with a familiar voice.

"You know what's wrong with Skyrim these days?"

"Shut up."

It was the only apt response after all. Jon had been repeating that particular line of dialogue to everyone the boy had seen - including himself. He had half a mind to smack him right across his pointedly elvish-looking face, but quickly decided against this as he stayed wary of the jagged glints of silver and steel resting lazily - albeit firmly - at Jon's sides. He might be a poet or writer (or whatever else he proclaimed to be) just as easily he could be a battle-hardened, steel-munching, arrow-shooting maniac. Such personas often passed through Whiterun, and no one had acted anywhere near as noticeable as Jon was being.

"Are you going to buy something, or just stand around staring at the sky like a diseased horse?"

The boy handily grabbed two cabbage heads and tossed a few coins in the way of the offensive marketplace woman. What was her name again... he chuckled. Immediately, he swiveled to focus on the massive twin door frames sitting authoritatively at the entrance of the city, walking quickly towards them.

The sunlight was making it unnecessarily difficult to get around Whiterun. Although it could be argued that the residents of Skyrim would be grateful for some heat in their region, it also meshed poorly with the high clouds and sporadically bounced around as the sky tilted and swayed to scatter the light. Worse however, was the sheer variability in how each day could go - some swelteringly hot, others incredibly cold, with some moderate days arriving every now and then. In this sense, he felt thankful that it was relatively temperate today.

The boy stopped just short of pushing past the main gates and stared behind him at the carefully organized chaos of the city he had yet to call home - marketplaces bustling with angry but determined customers, shops littered strategically around hubs of activity, and of course the omnipresent city guards monitoring all of it.

Standing much farther away from the center of all the commotion, there was also a powerfully erect castle sitting atop a tall flight of stairs. The entire building was wrapped around an harsh, stony cliff that was dotted with Talos artifacts and priests.

Dragonsreach, as it was appropriately titled, might as well be only reachable by dragonback. Every time the boy had even attempted to move close to the foot of the stairs, he had been roughly shoved backwards by a displeased guard - usually much taller than himself, stocky, bearded, and almost always some sort of Nord nationalist. This was made doubly awkward by the fact that the boy was a Nord himself, and thus all the guard's insults seemed completely misguided.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

The boy broke out of his temporary trance, shifting his focus away from the gates and to the guard standing beside him. Had he really daydreamed all the way to the city exit already?

"I suppose so," he responded to the armored figure, who was still admiring the view of the city. "If you like that sort of thing."

The guard snorted, setting both of his mitted hands down on the hilt of his sword in an inviting, but still somewhat cocky fashion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The boy backtracked. "Sorry. I'm just irritated that I don't have a place inside the city - yet."

"By the - " the guard started. "Really? I mean it's to be expected, Whiterun hasn't had a house available in ages... and even Breezehome was taken by - "

"Yes, I know."

The guard suddenly seemed more alert and serious, glancing both ways before gesturing for the boy to come closer.

"I hear it's a woman," the guard muttered, still keeping his gaze oscillating. The youth found this frantic searching hilarious, but chose once again to be considerate of his surroundings.

"Can you believe that? A female Dohvakiin?"

Yes he could. Female warriors had been present since the dawn of Time, only they hadn't been quite as famous as their male counterparts.

"I mean I can't even think of a female warrior that has been so famous..." the guard continued, misjudging the boy's silence for intense interest. "Well except for Aela anyway. But she keeps to herself. Have you met her?"

"No," the boy tersely answered, before trying to make it obvious that he was trying to leave. "Listen, I have got to run a few errands right now and I'd really appreciate - "

"Yes! Yes! Of course, no problem at all!" the guard finally acquiesed, embarassment flushing his tone. "Have a good day! May the - "

Oddly cheerful for a guard, the boy thought, drowning the guard's speech out with his internal monologue. He turned back to the double gates.

His next feeling was one of immense pain. In his absentmindedness, he had failed to avoid the gates swinging violently towards him. In fact, they had been pushed back with significant force from the other end - enough actually to launch the boy right into the guard once more as he clumsily tripped over his boots and fell flat on his face. His first instinct was to cough out all the dust that had immediately shot through his throat, but another instinct told him to simply wait and observe what had happened. Out of the corner of his eye, the boy saw the talkative guard quickly right himself. A flurry of voices broke out.

"Move citizens!"

"Dohvakiin!"

"Make way, make way!"

"Come on then, move out of the way!"

A small entourage of six heavily armored and large warriors stood protectively around a pale white stallion. The horse itself seemed to want to move forward, but was being stopped by the deft control of the figure riding atop it. The form was clad in shining ebony plates, neck encircled by an oddly shaped but glowing necklace. The armor was slimmer than usual ebony-forged plates, but seemed resilient enough to outshine the six steel sets being worn around it.

He noted how the entrance of the group was helped by the giant doors to either side of them. They framed the travelers perfectly - just within the view of a crowd growing quickly nearby.

The talktative guard's tone was now uncharacteristically harsh. "Get up boy! It's the Dohvakiin!"

The boy awkwardly stood up, nearly crushed by the force of the people now clammering to get closer to the white stallion, which itself was being sequestered into a corner by the large warriors acting as a buffer between the people and their armor-clad, horseback-riding leader.

"The Dragonborn is not fit to see anyone today! She is tired from a long battle with Orcs all the way from Riften!"

"What?"

"Orcs?!"

"Riften!?"

He judged that it was quite stupid of the onlookers to merely repeat the words that the warriors were saying instead of asking substantiative questions. Feeling a need to finish the task at hand, he wound the two cabbages more tightly to his leather torso and effortlessly squeezed past the crowd and began the small journey down the steps exiting the city. A great advantage to being young in Skyrim was sheer mobility - he might not be able to handle most men in a fight (or some women, for that matter), but he was more than capable of escaping from tight spaces. Ensuing voices of disapproval and loud cheers with intermingled applause simultaneously broke out and disoriented him, but finally he stumbled away and was outside the city. By now he couldn't even see the horse or its guarding warriors, just the figure perched atop as it rotated its gaze from citizen to citizen. The boy took a final glance at the still-growing mass of people before beginning the walk down the steps separating city and Skyrim.

"Boy!"

This particular shout was so radically different than the other random howls that the youth reflexively turned back, despite being literally at the edge of the steps. The tone seemed to exist in a jumble of contradictions: distinctively feminine, yet worn and gruff - kindly inquisitive but altogether demanding. The boy swiveled to see the ebony-clad figure positioned directly at him, still shielded by her own circle of warriors and an even larger circle of commoners. Even the horse seemed intrigued.

Evidently, this shout was noticed by the crowd. The citizens, once cheerful and vivid, now stood incredibly still and silenced themselves. The boy watched as multiple pairs of calculating eyes evaluated him and went back to the Dragonborn, zipping back and forth with dizzying speed.

The figure on the white horse tilted to the side slightly, almost curiously, before speaking again. "Where are you going?"

The boy felt strangely uncomfortable in the midst of this perfect silence, a literal city completely quiet and waiting for a response.

He straightened his armor, appearing to act dignified.

"No disrespect to you, Dragonborn," the boy breathed out, bowing his head lightly so he was spared looking at anyone. "I was merely on my way home."

The figure, still practically unreadable in the stitched dark armor, waited a moment before issuing a rebuttal. "So you have no wish to speak to me?"

"No no no no, of course I wish to!" the boy quickly reiterated, silently cursing himself over his own hypocrisy. "It is only that I, need to – stitch up my armor."

It was such an poor lie that the citizens staring at him did doubles takes of their own, narrowing their eyes as if questioning whether the boy had really tried to lie to the Dragonborn. A few moments of silence ensued, before the crowd burst into racuous bouts of laughter. The fact that he was young, holding two cabbages under his arm, and looking awkwardly in front of him did nothing to help his situation.

"Idiot! Sure, repair your useless armor!"

"Young'uns these days lying through their teeth - probably half-drunk..."

"You're saying your armor is more important than the Dragonborn?"

"Cabbage-boy! Try to think of another story next time to cover up the whole 'One too many bottles of mead' story!"

It slightly irked him that the Dragonborn was doing nothing to stop this. Instead, the armored form atop the now irritated horse sat in silence and bowed her head. With the faceplate covering her, the boy could not tell if she was laughing along with the crowd, or simply unwilling to break the joy of so many people.

In either case, he turned his back on the group of laughing citizens, scratching at his face and lightly stubbled goatee to hide his embarassment . The boy paced away from the center of the commotion, catching a fleeting glance at the Dragonborn as she watched him go before turning back to the eager crowd.

He kept walking. A good metric that he could use to tell himself he was getting close to home was when the when the sounds of the city began to die down. Skyrim itself seemed indifferent to the arrival of the Dragonborn, with vast stretches of grassland for the most part continuing their regular motions. Weeds and flowers danced idly along with the weak breeze as the sun neared its peak. Wispy cloud patterns soared and floated gently through the air in steady migration – and unfortunately for the boy, such temperate climate also meant that he would likely be working a double shift with Skulvar, who was probably already angry that the boy had taken so long to complete his errand.

Speaking of which, the signpost of the Whiterun Stables was clearly popping into his view now, swaying lightly as the light wind rocked it gently on its hinges. The boy ducked underneath the post to approach the middle-aged Nord standing in the middle of the stables alongside two beautiful black mares, fur rippling as he stroked them gently. Thankfully, Skulvar himself seemed unaware of his arrival.

"Skulvar," the boy spoke mildly, retreating under the shade of the center stable with the Nord in question. "Got it."

The boy genially handed the cabbages over to Skulvar, who took them without hesitation or analysis like usual - which aroused some suspicion from the boy.

"Did you see the Dragonborn?" Skulvar eagerly asked as he took the food and shoved it hastily under a chest to his left. "How did he look like?"

"Couldn't tell," the boy replied with a sigh, suspicion disappearing. "She was in full armor. Couldn't even see her face."

"So it is a she then?"

The boy nodded in confirmation, lightly running his fingers over the backs of one of the mares. "These are nice. How old?"

"Six and seven," Skulvar rattled off. "Don't change the subject. I can't believe I wasn't there! I should do more of my own errands from time to time - "

The boy chuckled in response, as Skulvar continued. "Did you pawn off the necklace?"

"Yes," the boy again confirmed. "Belethor gave me an earful about it."

"Yes, well he has a tendency to - oh! I almost forgot!" Skulvar gesticulated for the boy to follow him.

Confused but interested, he followed Skulvar to the same chest the cabbages were in, watching as the Nord grasped and opened his palm to reveal a pair of lightly constructed, thin bands of leather looped across his fingers. Inscribed within the straits of hide were a few words. Brom Ven.

"Take it," Skulvar gestured, lightly pushing the bracers into the grasp of the boy. "I even had your name put on. I hear too many people in the city calling you 'Boy!' instead of your rightful name."

Brom stared at the dismally crafted bracers in mild disappointment. It almost seemed as if Skulvar had intended to make a helmet first, then realized it was not feasible and decided to make bracers instead. He perfectly understood that he was supposed to express gratitiude, but it was so poorly constructed that he wondered that if he tried to thank Skulvar, he might end up guffawing in his employer's face.

"Well, let us just say that..." Brom forced out, considering his next words, "...I am happy you are not a blacksmith."

That proved to be the right approach as Skulvar snorted and smiled, patting Brom on the back before walking back into his own house.

"You should be grateful I am not, or you wouldn't even have a few septims to your name!" Skulvar announced jokishly before disappearing through a door.

Brom twiddled the bracers in his fingers before slumping into a rough hay cot, situated just to the right of the older black mare. It was not so much that Skulvar meant it, but it was more that the truth of the statement was painfully obvious. Only because of Skulvar had he even afforded to rent out this horrible cot – which was placed adjacent to horse manure. It had taken weeks to find this job, and Brom had promised himself ages ago that this would not end with him being thrown out of the stables.

The appluase in the far-away distance was clearly re-energizing. Brom moved his head away from the loud noise and subsequently found himself staring right into a rather large pit of manure. Black flies, previously quite scared of his presence, now buzzed more bravely towards him, settling on his head and face despite Brom shaking both as hard as he could.

Instinctively, he threw the bracers into the biggest mass of flies he could find - this was pointless however, as they merely split apart to let the projectile through. Brom forced his eyes shut, turning again and again on both sides of his body as the flies continued to buzz more passionately than ever before.

A/N

WARNING: FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE VERY LONG - BUT IT'S JUST TO INFORM NEW READERS WHETHER TO SPEND TIME ON THIS STORY OR NOT. NO SPOILERS.

*Brom Ven apparently means North Wind in Dragon tongue, according to a web search.

First chapter in a slow-build, character-centered story. Don't wanna spoil anything yet, but will feature lots of adventure traveling and hopefully some good narrative drama. Plot progression will hopefully be natural, unpredictable, and interesting.

R/R always appreciated and encouraged. Thanks for your view and support!

~TWa (TaciturnWatcher, get it?)

EDIT/UPDATE: For all new readers: it's a quite lengthy story, I make a lot of callbacks, and it really is a sort of drama/suspense driven narrative - there will be action, but the primary focus will be exploring characterization and plot more than cool action sequences. And it really is a slow-build - it takes a while for the story to get going (deliberate), but hopefully it remains interesting throughout. Just so that you know right now whether this is worth your time or not...

That being said, I tried to create as serious, heartfelt, and realistic a tale as possibly I could - so if you're still reading (and want to read more), thanks!

EDIT/UPDATE 2: For all new readers, the story is quite intimately told and there's a great deal of focus on a few characters at a time, needless to say this isn't one of those grand "climactic battle and saving the world" tales, but then again you probably knew that already from the title. I think my writing style has improved a lot since the first chapter as well, so please feel free to read more and evaluate my merit! (or lack thereof)

EDIT/UPDATE 3: For all new readers - story events snowball together and there's plenty of details that are significant; and I try to build these with continuity as the story progresses...

EDIT/UPDATE 4: For all new readers - as you can see in the first chapter alone, I use the Author's Notes as a way to communicate to readers where I think the story's heading so far - there's absolutely no spoilers, but I do tend to explain some hard to understand things - so if you don't want those little "hints"/"random rants", feel free to skip them - they don't add any content to the story, only serve as an insight into my mind when writing that particular chapter.

EDIT/UPDATE 5: For all new readers - it really does take a while for the ball to get moving... so try not to judge the first chapter as indicative of the whole story! What you think is happening now (trust me) is both completely different but also similar to what happens later on in the story. So - give it a chance! (I implore you to)

But in my opinion, all this makes for some (hopefully) moving characterization and story lines.

P.P.S: M rating might not seem obvious at first - you might have to read some - a lot more to get why.