A coward. It's how Shaiélaè was call when her people bannished her from the the deep forests of Valenwood. Lonely, heartbroken and bitterish, the little bosmer travelled across Tamriel with absolutly no goal. Chance, or maybe gods designs guided her steps to the north. She leave her homeland, crossed Colovia and Hammerfell, avoiding roads and peoples. She was too sad and wasted to meet anyone by herself.
Shaiélaè was a creature lost into the world and no one payed attention to the poor little bannished elf.
For the moment, she was living into the deep of a wood in the province of Highrock. It was 167th year of the 4th era, four years before the Great War and the elvish Dominion suprematie. Here, Shaiélaè met the first person who guide her to a true destiny.
The little elf was hunting a morning, dissimulate in a lookout in a beech when she heard a big noise through the forest. It was a concert of broken sticks and smashed leaves, with the clang of metalic pan.
Her elf hears heard the racket from far, so she had ample time to prepare herself against this intrude. Shaiélaè put an arrow onthe string of her bow and cowered in the foliage of the beech. This was'nt the first time she needed to hide because of the passage of a traveler and never she has been detected.
At last she saw the newcommer, and gasped.
As a Bosmer, she was used to small size people like her and never met lot of human to compare but this one was objectively one of the tallest human.
He was a mountain of muscle covered with large pieces of moldy bear fur, with occasionaly some part of a rusty iron armor on his chest and his shoulders. The traveler carried on his back a heteroclyte kit with blankets, ropes, boiler wich rattled in an oblivionian racket. The most interesting part of his stuff was the giantic sword fixed on his back.
If it career is a tall man, this claymore may be the biggest sword Shaiélaè had ever seen: An absurd piece of steel, long as a spear with two sharped fangs forged on the middle of the blade. And it was the only gleaming thing on the giant warrior.
The traveler was walking peacefully, didn't paying attention to eventual danger on the road.
He has over the head to be the danger, anyway, thought Shaiélaè speechless in front of such a lack of elementary prudence. She look at his face:
His had a hard face, framed by long dark hairs and a little beard. The nose was obviously broken many time, and even at this distance few scars where visible between the lips and his temple. Two lines of coal dust were painted on his cheekbones, surlignate his dark eyes.
Shaiélaè watched him for a long time. He finally walked away and the litlle elf relaxed her bow, then parked the arrow in her quiver.
That's useless to keep hunting. All preys will be gone, she sighed. She was hungry, and din't kill any animal since she was in Highrock. Now, her food dreams were delayed at least 6 hours. Of course, she had seen orchards and vegetables crops near a farm three days ago, but even after months of bannishment, she was reluctant to betray her people by broken the Green Pact.
She took one last look on the traveler. And saw him with a ice pick in his hand, facing an invisible ennemy.
Shaiélaè bend on her branch, with the hope to see more of this scene. She had to wait few moments before she can catch sight of the opponents. It was a troup of goblin walking out the brushs, about 30 meters of her lookout. The little elfe counted four of them, wearing handmade weapons and bones armor. Seven, now: a little group approachinch behind the man appeared in her field of vision.
How this creatures came whitout the elf heard them? The sneak perk of the traveller was certainly in cause, attiring goblins and prevent Shaiélaè to detect them.
But she was curious to know how this business will be finish.
The warior was turning on himself, pointing his ice pick on the direction of his ennemy. He was surrounded, but goblins were afraid of him and no one wanted to attack him first.
The confrontation latest longs minutes before a courageous goblin jumps in the back of the traveler. A knife in his hands, he tryed to stab the warrior neck, but this one took him by the head and threw him at his foots. All others green-skins charged at this moment.
It was an amazing show and sometime, Shaiélaè found herself cheering the human in her head.
During this time, the warrior was desperatly trying to keep his opponent at distance. They were more and more every minutes.
He swung strong hits with his ice pick on everythings moving too close of him. Quickly, two skinny goblins were on the ground, the skull broken and their brain spreading on the leaves. His weapon shot another screaming one, snatching half his jaw. They were little, but they were swift and the warrior was tall and incredibly strong, but he was too slow and rigid. Goblins, who were now almost a dozen, duck down most of his hits without problems.
Four of them jumped soundainly on his back, and two on his arm.
If the one wo choose the right arm was instantly ripped off, the other succeed and immobilizided him. The warrior shouted a long swearword. He recoiled at a run to a near oak and smashed his back on it, making fall a part of his equipment like an iron helmet, a boiler and a bag of coin who went scatter on humus. Most of goblins released the warrior, shocked, but one of them more persistant stayed hooking on the warrior neck. The human gained momentum before smash his back again on the trunk.
Shaiélaè heard the crack of the goblin's broken spine.
Run like this had drive away the warrior from the other green-skins, and those who were on his body were too rang to be dangerous. So he had a moment of calm during which he
brutally threw his ice axe on the chest of an opponent on the ground and unpacked quickly the leather strap holding his giantic greatsword. He had it in his hands just before the screaming band was on him. But it was too late for goblins can hope victory: He was ready, two meters of sharped steel in the hands and a tree to protect his back.
A strong warchief with a bronze armor and a rusted mace was the first charger to reach him. He was greeted by a great smash which crushed him more than he cuted him. The warrior took out the claymore from the bleeding chest with a guttural war cries, and prepared his next smash. After that, it was a slaughter.
Few minutes laters, only three goblins were still arise.
But soudainly the warrior get a spasm, and Shaiélaè, surprised, saw him faint on the ground just like that. Goblins survirors wondered themself with a look, and then approched the body carrefully. One of them touch him with his spike, but the human didn't deal any movement. With a laugh, a second goblin raised his axe to plant it in the human's head.
An arrow knocked his eye before he did.
It was the little elf, who was curious to know the reason of this faint.
The two other green-skins was panicked, looking around them the provenance of the arrow.
Shaiélaè descended from a single branch, to have a better axis. She nocked a second arrow, aimed, and striked it in the throat of the nearest one.
The last survivor , seeing his last compagnon bleed out in a convulsion, threw his spike and tryed to run away, but the little elf was faster. Her last arrow struck him in the nape and he fell with a last scream.
Shaiélaè nimbly descended from her tree, and approached the human, her dagger ready in her hand.
She walked carefully, paying attention to not tramp on leaves and sticks, and passed near the pile of dead goblins corpse. The smell was unbearable, and she was at the edge of vomiting. She put her hand on her mouth to prevent it, when she saw at her feet an half-dead goblin tending his arm in her direction in a pathetic need of assistance. He had an atrocious wound on his head, a large notch starting on the top of the skull to the right eye. The pinkish brain was visible in the middle of the crimson blood.
He started to beg Shaiélaè, but the steel of her dagger get in his valid eye before a sound get out his mouth. The goblin gurgled and fell silent. Shaiélaè continued her road.
At least, she arrived in front of the fallen warrior, her boots soiled with blood. He was breathing : she could see her chest rise up and down.
The little elf watched him very carefuly during a couple of minute. This delay passed, she concentrate her attention on his package. Bosmers are natural born thieves. It's an easy task for them to pickpocket a passerby in a city. But here, on a sleeping man, it was a child game.
In his pocket, she found two silver coins.
It's not much , she though, But most travellers hide their valuable in unusuale place, like boots. I should check .
She remove the warrior's boots, but found nothing exept two stinking feet. Disapointed, the little elf kept looking on the rest of the body.
Five minutes later, her booty was composed by 3 silver and 1 copper coin, a bone pendant carved with a rune, some of food, the best loot : There was salted beef, candied fruits, the half of a roasted chicken, eggs in a stoneware jar, few potatoes and a bottle of liquid, which contain mead, after olfactive verification. She cast candied fruits and potatoes away, with a disdainful pout, and took the other supplies.
Shiélaè went go, when she remember the greatsword of the warrior. It was here, next to the hand of the human. The sword was bigger close, tallest than the warrior. She walked around him to touch it.
Heavy, but not much as she imagine. Cold steel. Dried blood everywhere. The Bosmer shivered. If I see that thing during a battle, I flee away. No matter who handle it.
She was tempted to take it. Not to use it, but only for the glory of a loot like this one. And maybe wonderfull bag of money if I sell it . The idea was more and more clear in her head. Orsinum is'nt far, and orcs are master blacksmith. It's sure they will be interest by this .
Travelling into the orc's country frightened her, but the vision of the money she could make made Shaiélaè salivate. « Or what is the nearest city ? Daggerfall, I guess, if I walk to the north. I'm not sure. If only I had a map... »
She deicided to do not stay here any longer. The little elf lifted the claymore on her shoulder grimacing when she felt the contact of the goblins blood on her nape. Then she left the battlefield, moving fast to be away when the warrior will wake up. She had walk five meters when she stumbled on a broken shield on the ground. Usually, she would have found her balance, but the height of the greatsword desequilibrate her and she fell. Her hands sank in hot bowels getting out the stomach of a goblin when Shaiélaè droped her burden that fell noisily on a body.
The little elf would get up and continue her road, cursing her clumsiness, when she heard a rumor behind her. No need to return, she knew the warrior was awaking. She tryed to extricate quickly her hands from the stinking heap of guts, but it was too late. The time to be on her feet, the warrior was sitting. He clinked his eyes few times, watching his environment. Then he saw the little elf, who doe'snt move at all. The human looked surprising.
« Who are you ? »
Her mind worked fast to find a valid explanation.
«I'm Shaiélaè. I just saved your life », she said. « Goblin wanted to kill you, and steal this from you » Shaiélaè showed him the sword at her feet. « I killed them, and I would return the sword to you and examine your injury. Then you woke up »
The warrior was standing now. He looked arround him. Saw the batttlefield. Vomited. He picked up his package while he wiped his mouth. That took a long moment to find them all : a part was fall during the batlle, and Shaiélaè had dispers the rest when she sacked him.
« It was goblins. I interupted their looting »
The human didn't pay attention to her. He snatched his bone ice pick from the skull of a goblin and rejoigned Shaiélaè at distance from the pile of corpse.
The Bosmer wanted to stay with him for a moment, even if a little voice in her head telling her to flee away and continue alone her journey. But on the other side, this man was an oportunity. She wanted a way to steal the greatsword.
Nothing that the weight of the steel could pay one month of food, new arrows, some night in a real bed... Of course, its bearer was a danger, and the little elf will have to be carefull. I still have my bow. The warior picked up his sword and cleaned it with a rag. I'm obviously faster than him... I take the risk. And she was curious too, about a fighter who faint in the middle of a battle, and the first human beeing she seen since a long time.
Few minutes later, they were both sit on a tree trunk. The warrior was cleaning his large claymore from all the blood. Shaiélaè was absentmindly drying on her pants her hands from goblin gut, revulsed by the smell of her hands which didn't want to gone.
The Nord started to speak.
« My name is Ioreck, son of Halfur from Morthal. My father is a thane of the house of the old Jarl Olrick Ravencrone. »
A nord, of course. I should guess it earlier. Easy to dupe, but hard to fight. Shaiélaè was curious about the story of the man, to know more details as possible on her target. A warrior who faint without raison during a battle is unusual, she thought amused to know a weakness on this living mountain.
« Month ago », continued Ioreck, « I drank to much a night at the inn. I said some words at the wrong personn . We started to fight and I bet him. Only a drunked quarrel, you think, forgotten the morning.
But he was the son of my Jarl, and I broke is nose. The next day, city guards woke me and brough me to the Jarl's hall with my hangover. If I was a normal man, I had to pass few hours in jail, but I am the son a thane, and I deserve honor. My father convincted the Jarl to deal this case with a trial by combat against my victim : So it could save me from the dishonor of a prison, and give a chance to the son of the Jarl to repair the affront I made.
We met behind the longhouse, encouraged by all the villagers. My friends, my familie was here. Jarl Stigthmund, too, with all his court. My father was at his side. I remember them, talking and laughing like friends. Their sons may fight, but it was only a form at their eyes. No one of us taking it seriously.
Two housecarls gave us axes and shields... »
« Not serious, you said? »
The nord blushed.
« We do not hit to kill. We must desarm or push down our opponent. The vanquished acknowledges his defait. Axes are not even sharp.
Then the fight began. At a moment, he struck me hard in the back. That annoyed me most than it should did. I had a headache, and I was tired. The result is I became berserk.
« What is this ? » asked Shaiélaè.
« The same state of mind as the battle against goblins this morning. I become violent, I cannot control myself, I don't feel pain... I become a pure killing machine. When I am like this, I can only remember few moment of my rage. The rest is a black hole.
« You fainted during the battle. Is there a link ? »
« If I make too much effort, by body can't support the strain when I begin the return hearth. This has sometime happened to me, but never before the end of the fight before this day. »
It was astonishing and a bit frightening. Berserk... The little Bosmer already heard story about orcs changing into monsters like this. Legends told between brother in arm the night in the casern before going in patrol around wood-orcs camps. An old archer said once that he fought a berserkir during an ambush. He kept fighting, even with a dozen of arrow on his body, shouting and crushing trees with his warhammer to make fall hiden elfs. By the scoot, his platoon loose more of six men in due of this orc.
See that became true with her own eyes was... unexpectable.
« When I back to me, Rolf Ravencrone, heir of the Jarl of Morthal was dead, atrociously crushed by my own hands. Guards was too effraid to stop me, so I ran out the town. On the moment, I did'nt understand the situation, but my instinct told me to flee. My little brother helped me to hide myself in the swamp around Morthal, and explained me exactly what happened.
He came regulary during the next days, with fresh news about my situation : The Jarl was furious, of course. I killed his one son. He has a daughter, from his first wife, but she's old and weird. Everybody know that he don't like her, and from there to see her on the throne... I understand he sentenced me to die. »
Iorek smilled sadly. The greatsword was perfectly clean, now. He looked his reflection in the polished steel for a while.
He was a pariah, like her. Hunted from they own home and reunificated by the will of Malacath himself, obviously. Imagine the father of the pariah watching them over their head was funny, but a bit disturbing. That could make a good joke at Valenwood : A Bosmer, a Nord and the Daedra Malacath are walking in the wood..., she though. I just have to find the punchline.
The thinking of her condition and of the remoteness of her country made come tears in Shaiélaè eyes. The little elf repressed it with listenning the end of the story that Ioreck had already continued.
« …could'nt find me in the swamp.I browsed it all my youth and I know evey spots and danger. But I was too close from the town. It was dangerous. I could'nt stay here anymore. Every piece of my life was in Morthal, but my brother and my sister convinced me to leave. I could never return, they said, and being close from it was useless and to dangerous for me. I did'nt want to let them, but I knew the were right.
I saw my entire family for the last time the night I went. It was highly dangerous because Jarl's men watched their move, but all of them were here : My parents, my two brothers and my sister. They gave me supplies and a part of the family saving. At the last moment, my brother took out this from behind a tree. »
He showed the greatsword to the little elf.
« It's the Blade of Hjaalmarch, the symbol of the power of the Jarl. My brother Arnolf stole it from the personal armury of Jarl Stigthmund . Ironic, no ? I took his son and his sword. It won't miss him anyway, he never hold it exepted during specific ceremonies.
Now it's mine, I called it Heartfire.It's a great value to me. Beside its practical aspect, it's the only link I have with my homeland.
And then I left my country, carrying my weapons, my supplies, my lost honnor and 1000 septims of bounty over my head. »
1000 septims ! What a pity that Morthal was so far.
Shaiélaè was disgusting by the flippancy which Ioreck was taking his murder. Even under berserk, he killed the one son of a man. And respectless toward a man devasted by grief -his own Jarl-, he stole a precious sword symbol of his function. Certe a nice theft, but unwarranted.
She did'nt feel any sympathy toward a man devoid of remord. Another thing much galling was the lovely forward he get when he left his family. The little elf was hurt to didn't have this chance during her departure. At best, her family treated her with condescension and deception, at worst in the case of her mother, with hate and contempt.
The warior was standing and he wrapped Heartfire in a coating. Then he put it in his back sustained by a rope.
Shaiélaè rised too and put her dagger in its sheath.
« And you, what's your story ? », Ioreck said.
She didn't answered. Ioreck telling made her cranky. I'm not in the mood to tell my story to anyone, she though.
The little elf walked away in a random direction. The man followed her.
« I'm going to east too. »
Wonderfull..., she sighted. It seem I have a new compagnion. She was too shy to tell him to go away.
They didn't chat together during the rest of the day. Ioreck looked bothered by the lack of discution of his new compagnion and Shaiélaè was bothered by his lack of discretion. A goblin's ambush didn't teach him prudence. More than an inconvenient, it was a danger but the little elf was too tired to remedy.
They stopped at midday to lunch. Shaiélaè had to return him the food she took when he was on the ground, claiming she pick up it on a goblin's corpse, but the Nord shared gently his meal and they ate nestled amidst stones
« Thank, but I can't eat vegetables », she said after he hold out some candied fruit.
« Oh, I forgot your... elvish belief.
She ate with apetite a chicken wing and a large piece of salted beef. The meal was awkward. When the little elf had a look on Ioreck, posted on a rock above her, he was looking on her breast that sensed through the leather of her tunic. Shaiélaè knew how much men are perverted and don't care about races differences, but the thought of a Human male seeking to own her was highly disgusting. If he try to touch me, I kill him quickly, she tought while promising to find a cloack to cover her breast.
Actually, only the insurance of meal during the next days made her decide to stay with the Nord. That, and the possility to find a good occasion to steal Heartfire, the famous greatsword.
The night fall early during automn and soon Masser and Secunda coated the two travellers into their light. Then they stopped and Ioreck insisted to light a fire in spite of Shaiélaè who said that it was useless, and could attract some creature.
« Or repulse wild animals », answered the Nord.
Shaiélaè protested, but he didn't listen.
« We'll make watch round anyway. I'll protect you while you sleep and will awake you to replace me later », he said cutting short her argumentation .
A piece of salted beef and a nip of mead calmed Shaiélaè's anger.
She installed her spot for the night on a fork in the oak over the camp, what Ioreck found very eccentric.
In turn, he was comfortably wrapped in his warm bedroll between Shaiélaè's tree's roots.
« You did'nt tell me », said the little elf while she was hunched on her branch, with her shabby boiled leather clothes for only blanket, « Why are you in Highrock, and where are you going ? »
« I'm a wanted man only in Hjaalmarch hold, but it's more carefull to be far as possible from the rage of Jarl Stigthmund. And bounty hunter do not have borders.
I heard about mercenary compagnies seeking for new members near Pharnhelm. They always have some job for a bold Nord and his blade. »
A moment of silent followed his word, during which they only heard crackling of the dying fire and the squeak of some nocturnal bird.
« And you ? What is your goal ? » he asked to the Bosmer after a couple of minutes.
« Daggerfall », she said to avoid to confess she did'nt have any goal at all and wandered randomly.
Shaiélaè looked at him, below. She envied his thick fur bedroll.
« Don't install yoursell too comfortably. Remember you have the first watch. », she said.
« Don't worry about it. You can sleep peacefully.
The little elf tightened her tunic over her body and closed the eyes while shivering.
Mercenary. Not a bad job, maybe. A mensual pay, and possibility of looting. If commander want me. In think they do. I have experiment for scooting, I'm a good archer. I can be an adventage. A such good idea, dear Ioreck... Why I didn't considerate that earlier?
Shaiélaè did'nt really sleep this night. Her eyes was close, but her ears where open in a half-slumber.
Few hours later, when the camp fire was no more than smocky ashes, Ioreck woke her while throwing sticks on her roost.
« Pssssttt... »
She simulated sleeping one more moment, to don't make him guess she watched him. He throw one more staff which hit the branch under Shaiélaè with a thud.
« Wake up. It's your turn to watch the camp. »
The little elf shamed a rude awakening, stretching and yawning. She moved at the end of the branch, where lookout were degaged and set astride. The Nord looked her, over him, while he huddled in his bedroll.
« I did'nt know you don't own a blancket », he said. « You must be frozen. Why you don't told me ? I could gave you mine during my watch. »
Shaiélaè smiled gently and truly in the dark. This yokel Nord was obtuse, but honnest and generous was his qualities.
« Thank you, I have the habit. », she granted.
« A you want. Tell me if you need it next time. »
He did'nt propose to sleep with him in his bedroll. That's something. A point for him.
When she looked at him again, he was already sleeping. Or not. In the traitor light of the moons filtering across the foliage, the little elf couldn't tell it exactly.
I'm sure he's suspecting me.
The giant greatsword was just below her, lay down his flank, the leather handle near his head and the blade exceeding his feet. Or maybe he's too stupide to think I could take it.
She longly studied him, seeking a sign showing if he was definitively sleeping or not. Ioreck held an ice pick in the hand. That element mad the little elf doubt.
I don't really slept tonight. Why not him ?I can approach, pick up the sword but I'm certain that he will suddendly wake up at this moment, take me flagrante delicto and plant his pick into my stomach.
This reflexion occuped her all the night. At the end, just before the dawn rising, she decided to do nothing and gain the confidence of the Nord to take the greatsword later.