First Skyrim fic. Go easy :)
Review please.
Dawn was breaking over a small patch of forest just South-West of the village of Riverwood. A river snaked through the center of the trees, rocky formations rising up on either side and dotted with the green and brown signs of nature. The sounds of the river crashing and roaring down in a foaming white waterfall echoed through the area and sent a thin layer of mist into the air where the water met the bottom of the freefall. A small figure stood warily on a stone ridge above the scene, a pair of glossy eyes carefully scanning the land below. The buck shifted its feet and brushed at the ground nervously. Behind it, the branches of a tree ruffled slightly, unnoticed by the deer. But the morning had no familiar breeze running through it to disturb the trees. There was something else in the forest.
The tip of an arrow emerged stealthily from the rustling branches, followed slowly by a long hunting bow and its weary owner, Faolan Stormblade, a middle-aged Nord with shaggy dark hair that tussled down to his broad shoulders, face contorted into a hardened mask of concentration. His leather-gloved hands were tight on his weapon in his need to execute the shot, dark eyes focused on his unsuspecting prey on the ridge. He took another step forward out of his cover from the trees, drawing the string of his bow back a bit further and aiming at his target carefully. He had only one shot at this.
He narrowed his eyes. The buck pricked its ears. He took the shot.
The buck shuddered slightly, the feathered end of the arrow protruding out of its right flank. Faolan lowered his bow, watching with a silent smirk as the deer slowly stumbled, clumsily tripping over its own feet before falling completely over, hitting the edge of the ridge at such an awkward angle that it sent the poor animal tumbling over the edge and into the crashing white waters below. The man rushed forward to the ridge, eyes searching for his kill, but he was too late. He cursed under his breath and looked to the morning skies, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. He lowered his gaze across the skyline, pausing when his vision crossed with something unusual. He squinted in order to make sense of what he was seeing, but it was plain as day what he saw.
The dark clouds of smoke billowing out in waves just above his hometown of Riverwood. Faolan hesitated slightly, his former concentration furrowing into a confused rage. He broke into a harrowing sprint towards the East entrance, taking his dagger from his hip as he ran. He bounded through the trees and down a hill onto the trail that led home. The all-too-familiar scent of burning wood filled his nostrils and he pulled his free arm over his face to breath in the ragged cloth of his sleeve. The air became thicker as he came closer to the village and the strong smell stung at his eyes. His legs tired but he pressed on, rounding a corner and hesitating when he found the East entrance in shambles, red and yellow flames licking at the fallen pieces. He climbed over the wreckage, the heat from the fires pressing against his skin and leaving a thin layer of sweat. His breath came in uneven rasps and his muscles tightened in the heat.
He jumped down from the last burning block of wood and coughed into his sleeve, not bothering to pause for a breath as he rushed on. His heartbeat came quicker when he passed by his neighbor, Sven, struggling to tame the fires that bore on his home. He looked ahead and found the door to his own home kicked in and shattered. Faolan held back a growl of anger as he jumped through the mess and into his home.
"Camilla!" He screamed for his wife at the top of his lungs, coughing and spluttering into his sleeve as he repeated her name.
There was no answer save for the crackling of Sven's burning house.
Faolan bounded up the steps and into the bedroom, finding the place completely ransacked, with no sign of his young wife. He choked back another growl and nearly knocked down the other door of his home, exiting out onto the balcony and running full speed for anyone who could help him find her. He heard screams and veered off towards the Sleeping Giant Inn, the only building remaining slightly intact.
Alvor stood by the entrance clutching his daughter Dorthe in his arms. Stump barked lazily at the air next to the sobbing pair. Faolan ran past them and into the Inn, finding his good friend Ralof breathing heavily, standing with his battle axe in his hand and at the ready. Faendal stood at his side looking breathless and worn. Faolan sucked air when he noticed the body of Orgnor soaked in blood in the corner.
"Ralof!" Faolan shouted, "What happened? What is going on?"
"There must have been at least thirty bandits armed to the teeth with an assortment of Elven weapons." Ralof answered.
"Elven? You dont think..." Faolan started to say.
"Thalmor, it looked like it, but I cannot be sure. They came and went too quickly. Luckily they left a little something behind."
A man coughed in the corner and Faolan spun to face him. It was a young, thin, man, facial features sharp and angular with high cheek bones and deep set, beady red eyes. His hair was long and slicked straight back over his head, failing to hide his prominent pointed ears. The young elf was clad in a light leather armor, easily recognizable as Elven even with the cascade of blood streaming from a stab wound in the shoulder that was coating the garment. Faolan recognized Ralof's dagger dug deep into the Elf's flesh. A silver Elven longsword sparkled next to him, dripping with Nord blood.
Faolan cursed the Thalmor to Talos and ran towards the man.
"Who are you? Why did you come here?"
The young elf let out a bitter liquid laugh that stung Faolan's ears like red wine, and did not answer.
"Who are you?" Faolan repeated. Infuriated, he reached for the dagger in the elf's shoulder, but before he could, Alvor burst into the room.
"Sigrid! My wife is not in my house! She and Camilla have been taken by the elves!"
Something burned in Faolan's chest at the mention of his wife's name. He narrowed his eyes and clutched the dagger before him, twisting it roughly and wrenching it further into the flesh and bone of the elf.
"Where are you taking her!" He bellowed. "Where are you taking my wife you sorry sack of bones!"
The elf let out a high-pitched squeal of pain as Faolan twisted the dagger again. His comrades idly stood by as he tortured the creature, each jealous that they could not do the same. They all glared towards the elf with the same biting fury as Faolan continued his assault.
Unsatisfied, Faolan stood and unsheathed his own dagger, his eyes glowing a dangerous black as he leaned back down over the elf.
"Answer me, beast. Where are your men taking Sigrid and Camilla?"
The elf smirked between tired breaths and held his tongue.
Faolan roared and drove his knife into the elf's knee.
Ralof and Faendal shuddered as the creature's shrill cry shattered through the room.