The Forsworn
Chapter 1: The Mission
Lena awoke suddenly, covered in sweat and panting. She had had more nightmares, the same ones that plagued her sleep ever since she came to Falkreath. They were dreams of a dragon, the same one that she saw in her brief time in Helgen. The same one that burnt that village to the ground. The same one that had evidently saved her life. Black as night, she remembered.
In her dream, she couldn't see anything. She could feel the presence of the dragon, however, in a small village. Chaos ensued around her as she heard the sounds of women and children screaming and running by. She heard sounds of few men attempting to fight the monster. Over time, the sounds of fighting would vanish and be replaced by more panic. If the dream lasted long enough, Lena could feel the heat from the fires begin to surround her blinded form. She could hear and feel buildings collapsing. And then all the screaming would stop. Lena's first visit to Skyrim since she fled as a little girl was already causing her problems.
She sat up in her bed at the local inn. Next to her on the dresser was a tin of water, which she splashed lightly on her face, and then drank the rest. Under the bed was a heavy fur coat, which she swung around her underclothes. Slipping on a pair of fur boots, Lena headed out of her room. The innkeeper of Dead Man's Drink was the only other person in the room. Sitting by the hearth, she briefly acknowledged Lena as she passed by, offering her a drink and some food, and then turning back to the warm fire after Lena refused.
She only wanted to briefly step outside to cool off. Lena loved the cold of Skyrim. She spent most of her childhood in the city of Bruma in Northern Cyrodiil. The same cold weather that could be found in Skyrim was also found in Bruma, as well as more Nords than Imperials. Falkreath had a very crisp feeling in the air, making it the perfect temperature for Lena to feel comfortable in. She hoped that she never had to travel to the far north of the country. Stories from her childhood told of cities that were completely covered in snow, with all the inhabitants gleefully frozen during the colder seasons. She didn't intend to find out if the folktales were true.
Sitting on the porch of the Dead Man's Drink, Lena took in the smells and sounds of the town. Magnus had just started to rise in the sky, and already the local townsfolk were starting their busy days. A mill worker stepped out of his house and made his way to the creek on the far side of town. A legion of soldiers passed by and made their way through the center of town. The guard had been nearly doubled since verified reports of dragons reached the ears of the jarl. Zaria, a Redguard who owns the local alchemy shop, waved to Lena as she passed by, presumably on her way into the woods to collect ingredients. The two of them had become rather close in the few weeks that Lena had been in town. Zaria was the first one Lena told about the dragon attacks, and the two women developed a trust early on. Both were incredibly talented alchemist and would often share recipes with each other.
After a short while, Narri, a young servant girl who worked at the Dead Man's Drink, sat down on a bench on the large porch. The ladies had never talked much, other than Narri exchanging drink or food for coin. Despite the infrequency of conversation, however, both women seemed intrigued in the personalities of the other. Narri was very outgoing, especially around men. Or even women for that matter. There were many times where Lena felt as though she was the victim of a flirtatious move by Narri. Lena on the other hand was very quiet, but always had a knack for making other people feel uncomfortable or scared just by being in their presence. That, plus she had a very special skill that involved killing people at long distances with a bow. That talent was obviously kept a secret from the people of Falkreath.
"What a lovely morning, isn't it?" Narri asked as she sat down. Even sitting, Narri's head nearly reached Lena's shoulders, and no one could figure if Narri was just obnoxiously tall, or Lena was unusually short.
"It's not so bad, maybe I'll spend some time by the creek this afternoon."
"Oh, than I'm sure you won't mind if I join you? I could use a bath and bathing alone is no fun," and even without looking at her Lena could feel the smirk on Narri's face.
"Well," Lena started, trying to find an excuse the woman's offering, as well as to hide the redness she knew was on her face. "I might just find something that's actually productive to do. Maybe try a little fishing or go looking for ingredients."
"Suit yourself, just thought you'd want to do some gossiping is all. I heard there is a caravan that should be passing through here on it's way to Markarth within a few days."
"Wait, really?" Damn her, Lena said to herself. Narri knew that would catch the Breton's attention. "Tell me Narri, when?"
"By the creek, in 'bout an hour," Narri said. Than she got up from the bench, patted Lena on her shoulder, and headed inside the inn. Even after she had left Lena could sense the smirk she likely has on her face, as well as the blush on her own.
By now she was fully awake. Magnus lightened up the whole town and all of the townsfolk had begun their daily toils. Lena headed back into her room in the inn, making sure she ignored Narri's inevitable smile. Once inside her room with the door closed, she kicked off her boots and laid down on the bed. She began to run her fingers through her silver hair, mimicking a brush. The Breton had never much been into grooming, relying on her skills as a fighter and trying to keep to the wild tradition of her people. She did take some pride in her hair, however. The color was supposedly a sign of a good life for the Reachmen. From what she remembers in her youth and the stories her grandmother told her, most of her people preferred to be bald. Lena never thought that would be a good look, and allowed her Breton/Nordic heritage, as well as her Imperial upbringing, to show off her looks.
After "brushing" her hair for some time, she tied it in a simple braid and pulled out a book from under her bed. It was a copy of "The Legend of Red Eagle", a book detailing the deeds of the historical figure known as Red Eagle. Zaria lent the book to Lena one day after she showed immediate interest in it. Growing up in Markarth, Lena had constantly been told tales of the legend. Many referred to him as a myth only, but to the Natives, he was very real indeed. Her grandmother shared what little she knew about Red Eagle with Lena during their time in Bruma. All Lena knew about him before reading was that he was a brave leader of her people who sold his soul to fight off invaders.
About half a book and a bowl of stew later, a knock came on Lena's door. She expected it to be Narri, who was likely in a creek waiting for her to show up. Instead it was the innkeeper, Valga. Valga was very understanding to Lena's situation. After sharing her story about Helgen and the dragon, Valga realized that Lena had no money and essentially no place to go at the moment. She gave her work quickly, simple errands to run around town or in the woods, and in return would give her food and a cheap room. Lena eventually earned the trust and gratitude of the town when she aided a few guards in rescuing some hunters that had gotten trapped in a cave. Since then Lena hadn't had to pay for anything at the inn.
Valga had her usual, tired expression as she came into the room. "How ya doin' dear? Comfortable?"
"I can't complain," Lena grinned and put her book aside. "How about yourself?"
"I can complain," she said, causing both woman to laugh. "Dengeir won't stop complaining 'bout our mead. He keeps sayin' the honey is no good. I been tellin' him to drink some milk."
"He's a milk drinker alright. Say, is Narri in there?" Lena asked motioning to the main room of the inn.
"Nah, she said she was going to the creek to bathe. I asked her why she wanted to bathe so close to town in the middle of the day, but I know how you girls like to be." Valga walked over to Lena and grabbed the soup bowl off of the table.
"Yeah I think she's waiting there for me. That girls a strange one." Valga chuckled and agreed, and then made her way to the door before Lena asked, "Any news of a caravan?"
"Ahh that's what I was gonna tell ya. One of the Khajiit caravans just set up outside of town. They usually don't stay for long so you should get to it."
That woman, as sweet as she had been the past few weeks, often drove Lena crazy with her ignorance. Still, she thanked Valga, threw on her fur coat, trousers, and boots and made her way to the edge of town.
