Zoor Se Dovahruth

One

-Us Rek Lost Zoor-
Before She Was Legend

"Once, the dragons sought to eliminate or enslave all mortal races. If given the chance, they would surely do so again..."

Dragons, or Dovah, are an exceptionally intelligent and wise race native to Akavir and once widespread throughout Tamriel. But they were no more wise and brilliant as they were powerful. The Dov are well known for their own spoken and written language as well as speaking others. But their spoken language was different. Their language was special. When spoken and articulated into particular words, they could cast powerful magic known as a Thu'um, or Dragon Shouts.

The Dov were nearly rendered extinct and widely believed to be so until the 4th Era 201 when they began to resurface in Skyrim, a region in the northern part of Tamriel, with the return of Alduin.

Alduin, the World Eater, a dragon-god whose return was a result of an Elder Scroll, was the event that started our tale. The demon himself could be thanked for the Legend of Dovahruth.

…

Keeva sat in her leather chair next to the warm hearth dazing into the depths of the fire. From anyone watching from a far it would look like she had been holding a conversation with the element, her gaze meaningful and focused. To others that knew her better, they knew she was seeing memories, flashes of fire and frost, of dark eyes and scaled flesh.

Little feet padded down stone corridors, the sounds reverberating on the walls and alerting the seemingly young woman from her thoughts. The feet came around the corner and into the sitting room, slowing down after spotting Keeva by the fire. Instead of rushing again at her, Keeva listened carefully to the slow and carefully placed steps as they made their way up behind her leather chair. Keeva smiled to herself before tilting her head to the side, her eyes meeting with the small fingers of the little child, "Even before bed I find you practicing your stealth," she teased.

The bright blue eyes peered out of the shadows and came forth, a toothy grin upon the little tyke's face. "I'm trying to be just like you."

"And that will take years of training, Dii Kulaas," Keeva told the little golden haired girl. The curls a top her head bounced to life when Keeva picked the child up and sat her in her lap. "How long did it take you, Monah?"

"A long time, Kiir," Keeva began to stare into the fire again, her thoughts becoming cluttered, "A very long time."

The little girl looked to Keeva, finding the fire from the hearth burning in her irises and then let her own eye peer into the fire to see if she could find what Keeva was looking at. But her young and little eyes could not find anything, just the orange, red, and white colors of the fire. "Why do you look into the fire every night, Monah?"

There was a silence in the air, one that was thick with questions, curious ears, and long tales. Keeva never answered the little girl, but instead, strong hands came forth from the shadows and picked the little girl up from Keeva's lap. The matching blue eyes of the man stared back into the little girl's. Her dusted pink cheeks earned her a smile from the man, "Come, Nathith. Monah needs some time alone. Let's put you to bed."

"But I don't want to go to bed, 'adad," the little girl fussed while hiding her face in the man's golden locks. She even grabbed onto one of his braids, tugging it lightly enough to get her point across. The man still walked down the halls and turned into a smaller, yet just as warm, room. The feather-down bed was waiting for them both and he set the little girl down gently, resting her head upon the pillow. His bigger hands brushed the curls out of the little child's face, petting them back so that he could look upon her features. Her lips pursed with an unsatisfied look, "Why does Monah look into the fire, 'adad? She does it every night."

The man let a light sigh escape his lips before he sat down upon the bed next to the little girl, pulling the covers over her, "I wondered when you would begin to start asking. It's quite a long tale, âzyung. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

The little mop of curls bounced up and down after her blue eyes grew wide with anticipation. The man couldn't help but smirk with amusement. He enjoyed the little faces the child would make and the quirky little sounds that came along with them, "Some say Monah came from the sky above, upon the crack of lightning and the roll of thunder. Others say she was born from the ashes of fire but most believe she came forth from the stars, riding in on the wave of an aurora, in the most terrible of frosts during the winter solstice. But your Great Uncle and Uncle know much better than the tales told by common folk."

The little girl's blue eyes glistened in the candle light, listening intently as the man went on with his story, "Monah, came from a land far far away. So far, that it isn't even physically part of Middle Earth…

The realm of Skyrim was a part of the continent Tamriel on the planet Nirn. It was here that Keeva was born and raised. Keeva's parents were not what most would consider a common union. Her mother was a Bosmer, Wood Elf, from Valenwood. Her name was Galathil and she was a very talented archer that had been once involved with the Thieves Guild. She was a very short elf, with hair that was as bright as fire. Keeva had inherited only those few traits out of her mother, a skilled archer, very short and hair that resembled the light of fire.

Now Keeva's father was a very proud Nord, tall, strong, fair haired and blue eyed. Thalin was a courageous adventurer before a fatal wound to his sword hand had left him fighting for his life in a dungeon where Keeva's mother had been stealing from. She had the heart to help him out after he had proven his trustworthiness after protecting her from some rather unfriendly Drauger. The two had made quite a team and found that they had made an even better match after getting to know one another.

Galathil and Thalin had soon realized that a child was on the way and weather they liked it or not, it was a sign from the Goddess Mara that they were meant to be.

On the coldest night during the winter solstice, 4th Era 176, a terrible frost covered the land and an aurora trickled over the clear sky. Keeva was born; her cries were silent and her skin so pale it had looked like she was frozen. Upon the underpart of the skin on her right arm, bright red and mean markings were burned into her skin. Galathil had not seen such a mark before. But Thalin, with the Nord blood running through his veins, knew that this was a terrible omen for the child.

It is known in Nord history that their ancestors were able to use the Voice, or the Thu'um. This was a result of the Dragon War where Dragon's and mortal men fought for control and freedom. The only way for men to win the war was to learn the power of the Voice. Over time the Nords began to forget the language and lost the power. But Thalin's father and his father's father, etc., passed on at least the understanding of the Dovah language. Thalin knew just enough of the dragons tongue to understand the written letters on his daughter's skin.

Fokeinvokul

In dragon tongue it means Frost War Evil.

"Thalin," Galathil's voice was worried. She was happy to have her child in her arms but the angry letters that were plump across the child's skin concerned her greatly. "What sort of sign is this?"

Thalin had never seen or heard the likes of such a mark. He was curtain of the words. Their meaning was exactly how he understood it. But he knew this was not normal. He knew something had happened to his child.

There was one book Thalin's father left to him after his passing. It was a book called the Atlas of Dragons and was a record of all the known dragons, dead or alive. Within the pages, in alphabetical order, Thalin found the name written in print: Fokeinvokul.

Slain in the 1E 2794, in the Uttering hills near Windhelm. It is noted the dragon produced a curse before his death. 'Dur faal bron fron tol krii daar dovah.'

"Curse the Nord kin that slay me…" Thalin whispered to himself. He closed his eyes with regret and for the first time in his life, though he was sure his ancestors looked down upon him for it, Thalin cried for his daughter.

Thalin took up quests after the learning of his daughter's curse, in search of an answer. The Nord looked high and low in his search coming up empty everywhere he looked. He would take breaks, return home and watch his daughter grow but ultimately would return to the road to begin looking again. While Thalin was gone, Galathil taught her daughter all she knew about being a skilled archer, as well as training her in stealth and battle. It was something both she and Thalin had agreed would be important, especially with their daughter's predicament.

Keeva was smart and talented. She picked up well with the bow and arrow. It was only a measly old hunting bow but for Keeva it was like the air for her lungs. Archery kept her focused and she found that it was a comfort when she was upset.

The children her age had teased and made fun of her often, calling her a freak not only because of the mark upon her skin but because she was the result of two mingled races. At the time Keeva didn't understand. She was small just like them, a girl, and just as imaginative and playful. So why was she any different?

"Hey freak!" one of the boys her age, who lived in the inner walls of Windhelm, chimed arrogantly, "Yeah, you! The one with the pointy ears!"

Keeva turned on the ball of her foot to find the younger boy walking toward her. Unconsciously she hugged the package in her arms closer to her chest, afraid he was going to do something this time rather than just say harsh words, "Yes?"

"I thought I told you to not come around here anymore!" he warned Keeva, poking her in the chest as he did so. Keeva blinked with confusion, she had not remembered the boy ever telling her such a thing. All she could remember was the cruel names he would call her, "I don't remember."

The boy's face scrunched up with anger, his brows even furrowed enough that they almost looked as if they could touch. Keeva wanted to laugh at that but she knew better. The boy looked down at the package in Keeva's arms and smirk. He snatched the leather satchel and dangled it above Keeva's head, out of her reach, "What do you have here? Anything worth something?"

"No, please stop!" Keeva insisted, now entirely not happy with how the situation was going, "Why are you doing this?"

The boy laughed, his head throwing back as if it was so funny. Keeva didn't find this funny one bit. She didn't like being bullied. "Why? Are you that dimwitted? You're a half-breed, a Nord-Elf, a freak! Nobody likes you!"

"But why?" Keeva asked confused. "I don't understand?"

"Because Nord's and Bosmer don't mix!" the boy hissed, putting the small package in his pocket, "Thanks for the present, freak. Now get out of here!"

The boy then pushed her towards the front gates of Windhelm. Keeva brushed the edge of the stone wall, her pride hurt, but her feelings stung even worse. She returned home, just a few minute walk. Her mother had been tending her garden, gathering vegetable for their dinner that night when Keeva had returned.

"Did you get the package, Welkynd?" Her mother paused in her work to smile upon her little girl. Keeva didn't smile back, instead there were tears in her eyes, "What is wrong, Keeva?"

Keeva's blue eyes, ones she inherited from her Nord blood, were forming stinging tears and she tried her best to hide them by dropping her gaze to her leather boots. Galathil gave a slight sigh while walking out of her garden and to her daughter. She bent down on her knees and brushed her hand over the two braids that acted as hair bands. She loved her daughter's fire hair. It reminded her that deep down, Keeva had a fire within her that would fight when she was ready. "Did they tease you again?"

Keeva nodded, letting the tears roll down her cheeks, "Why do they say such mean things? Am I not a kid too?"

"You're not a Nord to them, Welkynd. You've Bosmer blood in you as well and you know what?"

Keeva looked up from her shoes to meet her mother's eyes after she'd asked her question, "What?"

"Bosmer blood is special. You have both Bosmer and Nord blood, which makes you even more special. You can become as stealthy and talented at the bow as well as become as strong and courageous as your father. Don't let those kids stop you from becoming something amazing," Galathil insisted after seeing the tears flow from her daughter's cheeks. It bothered the mother more when she had found the wet substance on the soft skin rather than not seeing the package she had sent Keeva to retrieve. She knew Keeva was strong. She just needed to be reminded sometimes.

Keeva learned well from her mother over the years that it did not matter what others thought of her. She was who she was and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Upon Keeva's twentieth birthday, her father had returned home once again. This time was much different than the others. He wasn't worn and tired looking. He didn't look empty handed or hopeless. No, this time Thalin came home during the winter solstice and a determined look on his face. Keeva was dressed in her fur and linen garments, her face covered and hood lined with the warmth provided by deer pelts. Her father had been walking up the stone high road while she had been practicing her archery with small targets littered within the trees around their home. Keeva stopped, dropping her bow after seeing the fair hair of her bearded father.

When she was younger she would fondly braid the wiry hairs into beautiful and intricate designs. He would in return do the same, creating the braided head bands that wrapped around her forehead when she was younger. It was a small gift they could share with one another, between father and daughter.

Now he stood before her, beard braided and eyes alight with something very similar to the feeling of hope. "Da? You're home earlier than expected."

"And for good reason," he told her as he brought her into a very tight hug. It was stronger than many of the hugs she'd received from him over the years. Almost bone crushing it would seem. But she hugged him back just as dearly as the day she could say his name. "What have you found?"

Thalin looked about him before turning back to his daughter with more serious eyes, "Come inside. What I have to tell you is not something to say in light of the wind. Words travel easily to the ears that are not wanted."

Thalin took his daughter home, his wife greeted him warmly and had a spot next to the hearth cleared for them to warm their bodies. The meal for that night was already in the kettle, brewing for what seemed like hours. Thalin had his daughter set in a chair next to him; they stared into the fire, the words that needed to be shared only in careful whispers.

"I've found the answer," he told her pointedly, the air becoming thick and the silence of the room ringing in their ears. The only sound made was the crackling of the fire wood, "My journey has taken me all the way to the highest peak in Tamriel, the Throat of the World, High Hrothgar. It was there that I sought out the council of the Greybeards, asking them of your mark."

Keeva glanced away from the fire to brush her hand gently over the spot where the letters were burned into her skin, "What did they tell you?"

Keeva hadn't heard a word from her father after that. She actually had been so focused on the fire that she hadn't even heard the front door open and the shadow of a figure sneak in, slitting the throat of her mother and then going directly for her father after. She turned her gaze from the bright light and found the blue hooded figure standing above her father's frame, blade at the side, dripping with blood. Keeva looked to the fading light in her father's eyes before looking to her already dead mother, lying in a pool of her own blood.

Keeva's eyes flickered up to the blue assassin, a frown prominent on her face, "I suppose you're here for me."

The man didn't answer. Keeva took the few seconds that she had to study him, the blue cloak, embroidered in gold designs found from the region of High Rock, a province bordering the south western region of Skyrim. The man was broad, not too tall, but much taller than Keeva. He masked his face but his piercing dark eyes were something Keeva wasn't going to forget. Lastly she spotted the bright blue strip of cloth wrapped around the man's right arm, a pin was clasped at the knot to help hold it together, but it was the design of the pin that intrigued her most, "The Daggerfall Covenant. Did your High King Emeric send you to do his dirty work? Does he know something about me that I don't?"

Again the man didn't answer and Keeva could only laugh, "The lease you could do is give me your name. It's only right that I know the name of my assassin."

"Bedastyr," he droned, his eyes never changing after he took a step forward. Keeva smile darkly, "A Breaton, of course. Even slaughtered by my own kin."

"We're not kin," he warned taking the blade he'd used on Keeva's parents and sheathed it only to draw out a clean sword. He took another step and Keeva nodded in agreement, "I suppose we're not. Though we do have elven blood running through our veins. It seems even that is not enough to bring us together. So what is it that the High King finds threatening in me? Clearly my parents had something to do with it…"

Again Bedastyr didn't answer but finally stood directly above Keeva, his sword at the ready. "Make it quick," Keeva requested lightly. When the blue assassin raise the blade far enough from her neck and then began to swing back, Keeva rocked back on her heels and swung out her leg, knocking the assassin on his feet. The sword went flying across the room and Keeva took that chance to jump the assassin and knock him out with the hilt of her dagger. He lied on the floor unconscious, Keeva feeling pleased with her work.

She had little time to get out before he would wake again and come looking for her. Keeva looked to her father, his eyes still slightly there. She reached her hand out, fingers brushing the palm of his large calloused hands and she whispered a loving phrase to him as the light finally faded.

There was nothing she could do for her parents now and if anything they would want her to run and not pause for their sake. It was her life and they understood. They had taught her that such scenarios would come forth. This was it.

Keeva turned to her father's safe box and unlocked it, taking all the coin and jewels she knew she could sell later on. She gathered a quick pack, taking only a few loafs of bread and a wedge of cheese then packing a spare set of clothes. Her father's sword was placed on her back and her mother's Ebony made quiver of arrows was taken as well as the bow. It would only be a few minutes now. She needed to get out of there. With one final look at her parents, Keeva lifted her mask and hood and left the home of her childhood to never return.

...

Glossary:

Zoor Se Dovahruth - in Dragon tongue means 'Legend of Dragon Curse'

Dii Kulaas - in Dragon tongue means 'My Princess'

Monah - in Dragon tongue means 'Mother'

Kiir - in Dragon tongue means 'Child'

Nathith - in Khuzdul (Dwarvish) means 'Daughter'

'adad - in Khuzdul (Dwarvish) means 'Father'

âzyung - in Khuzdul (Dwarvish) means 'Love'

Welkynd - in Ayleid tongue (Bosmer) means 'Sky Child'

A/N: So, this is my first Hobbit fic and I know it will ring true to the films more than the book. But I promise I'll try to keep it interesting with the story I'm trying to integrate. I absolutely love Fili and it frustrates me trying to go through all the stories on this sight that are just really terribly written. I'm going to try my best to keep the language interesting and your imagination running. That is always my challenge, especially if I'm going along with a film.

I just want to let you all know a head of time that this is sort of true to the story but some of the tale may veer off for my own purposes. This tale is about the quest for Erebor but it is also the story of a young woman that learns fate is something that you can't runaway from, learning to accept herself, and to understand that the death of her parents wasn't her fault and that she should let their deaths stop her from being the person she was meant to be.

For those that either are wondering or already know, this is a cross over of Elder Scrolls: Skyrim and The Hobbit. But for the most part the story will remain in Middle Earth.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit or Elder Scrolls. Any character that is not familiar is of my own creation.