The beginning of a story that I don't have completely finished in my head yet. I have the first three chapters written out, so let me know if you like it and I'll come up with a full plot. And yes, I know the distance between the mountains and Whiterun isn't much, but just use your imagination.
IMPORTANT:
Shortly after writing this, I created a dark elf character named Aralin, who is a little different from Jenassa, but plays the same role in the story. If you would like me to continue writing this, please let me know if you'd rather have Jenassa or Aralin be the traveling companion.
Autelia let out her breath out slowly, watching the air steam from her lips and curl up in front of her eyes. The sun was just starting to come up, breaking the night's cold grip and bringing the crisp morning. Her yellow eyes focused on the horizon where the mountains sat, rays of light began to spill over their peaks. Pointy ear tips that had been frozen by the previous night's air began to thaw, and her nose began to gain feeling again as well. She waited until the entire sun was visible in the sky, and then narrowed her eyes against a gust of wind blowing across the plains and ruffling her short red hair. She ran her slender fingers through the strands, slicking it back into place. Focusing back to her surroundings, Autelia reminded herself that she was indeed not as close to the mountains as she thought, but was sitting on a cold rock in the plains surrounding Whiterun. She hopped up and brushed off her pants, then looked at the outline of the city behind her. Smoke was billowing towards the skies from chimneys Autelia could barely make out, and she could picture the common townsfolk getting up and starting their fires to chase the cold out. They were bringing the city to life, every part slowly starting up and working together to make one big creature.
The wind blew again, more urgently this time, whipping around the high elf and nearly causing her to lose her balance. The plains let out a hollow moan in protest. Being alone was cold, and Autelia wanted to be in that warm city full of warm fires and chimney smoke. So she turned and gathered up her things, and then strode towards the city as it woke with the sun.
By the time she arrived, Whiterun was already bustling and busy, and the sun was high in the sky. Autelia joined the crowd in the market, purchasing the supplies she needed. Smiles and nods were exchanged with anyone she made eye contact with, and sometimes a particularly friendly individual would stop to chat with her. Even though Autelia had been so looking forward to the warmth of being around these people, something had begun to make her the chill of the lonely plains again. An occasional glare from an angry set of eyes would make her conscious of her race, and brought up uncomfortable memories that wouldn't let her forget why she was there.
On the Summerset Iles where she grew up, she was, though reluctant to admit it, the spoiled brat of a wealthy couple with power. A dark elf, also in a position of power (Autelia couldn't remember what he was, for she tended to shy away from the boring, professional work of adults), came to visit her father. The dark elf brought his daughter, and Autelia witnessed her become the victim of a few high elf children's boredom. Autelia watched her struggle and try to fight back, but didn't bother to intervene, for she had been told for as long as she could remember that dark elves were below her. Her way of thinking was completely turned around when the dark elf girl beat her up for watching from the sidelines without a care in the world. On that day, Autelia was taught an important lesson. It became painfully clear that the racism going on was wrong, and she expressed this new way of thinking fearlessly. Looking back now, Autelia still wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Infuriated by his daughter's opinion, Autelia's father kicked her out to fend for herself without a septim to her name.
She'd been wandering now for years, alone. There was no goal to her journey, but she had made many discoveries along the way. For example, she found that she was dragonborn. She could summon the power of a dragon through her voice, and was learning to master her shouts. All the success she had with this hard work was due to her journey to High Hrothgar to visit the Greybeards. Amongst the four cloaked, mysterious old farts, only one could speak in normal English, and he helped her begin to learn the way of the voice. Once she had gotten the hang of it, she was out of there, for she could not stand how calm and peaceful the old men were. Her new life of traveling had left her restless, but she wasn't exactly sure where she was going. Deep down Autelia knew what she wanted, but she would never admit it to herself. She wanted to find a familiar face, a friend. She didn't want to be alone anymore.
Autelia felt another hot glare burning the back of her head, and she reached over her shoulder to pull her hood up and conceal her face. Now her classic pointy ears, sharp cheekbones, yellow eyes, and pointy nose were covered and in shadow. She shouldn't have to do this, but she had had enough socializing for one day. The clouds above were just starting to become tinted with shades of orange and pink, and Autelia knew she had to decide where she wanted to spend the night. Once in a while she had to spend a little coin at an inn to get out of the cold, and she decided tonight was one of those nights. The Bannered Mare was already beginning to fill with people, and Autelia was feeling a little too down to want to participate in any merry making. So she opted for the Drunken Huntsman instead. It looked quieter, and had a nice name. Hopefully if she passed out drunk in one of their chairs, they wouldn't kick her out.
Walking through the main doors of the building, Autelia found the inside to be quite empty, except for a couple of men sitting at a table in the back, drinking and lost in conversation. The man at the counter, a Bosmer, leaned forward with a friendly smile. Autelia felt slightly comforted at the sight of another elf.
"Ah, hello my friend. In the market for some hunting supplies?" He asked, his face lighting up hopefully when he saw Autelia's traveling attire.
"No, sorry." Autelia said. "Just coming in to be by a warm fire, and hoping to get the cold out of my bones with some drink."
"I can help you there, friend. Here, a bottle of ale?" He reached beneath the counter and passed it to Autelia as she approached. In return she dropped a few coins in his hand and nodded her thanks. As he tilted his head slightly, curious to see what was under her hood, Autelia turned and walked away.
In the center of the room was a large fire, and Autelia went to stand by it, taking a swig of her ale as she walked. What she saw next almost caused her to choke on her drink. She sputtered a bit, then peered around her hood, careful not to turn her head too much. Sitting in the alcove to Autelia's right, was someone who made her heart drop into her stomach. It seemed impossible, it had been so long, and she would look so different now, but Autelia knew it was her. Though she wore golden face paint over her grey skin, and her face had lost the slight chubbiness of childhood, the dark elf in the alcove's identity could not be mistaken. It was the dark elf that had visited with her father all those years ago, the one who had been beaten up while Autelia did nothing. It was Jenassa.