A Quest for a Nordic Mage

Part 1

Sigvruuf leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The words from the book were beginning to blur together. No more information seemed to be forthcoming. He, as with many in the College, was engaged in independent research. But today his efforts had been abnormally frustrating. Urag, after much begging and late nights aiding the scholar in the Arcaneum, had allowed him to take some books to his quarters.

Today, he had been working through a some old manuscripts he had stumbled across in the Dwemer section of the Arcaneum, and had been trying to translate them from Altmer, using another book (about translating from Altmer). He had learned some, but it was slow going. He had already read all the other books on the Dwemer Urag had available.

"Tomorrow," he thought to himself. "Tomorrow I will do more research." He carefully folded the manuscripts, and placed them in a drawer. He picked up his enchanted hood, and looked out into the center of the Hall of Attainment. No one was out in the center, but he could see J'zargo working on some scrolls. Sigvruuf had not met many Khajit, but he wondered if all of the cat people were so competitive. J'zargo certainly had skill, but his scrolls had backfired a few times. Onmund had agreed to test one of his scrolls once. Just once.

With his hood in place, the young Nordic mage left his alcove and headed for the door. On the way out, He nodded in greeting to a Dunmer mage. He was pretty sure her name was Brelyna. She was nice enough, but he decided not to help her with her original spells. It was safer than using J'zargo's scrolls. Despite living with all the apprentices, Sigvruuf was not particularly social, and spent most of his time researching, or practicing spells with Phinis or Collette.

The weather in the College's courtyard was as usual. Cold winds whipped around, sending snowflakes whirling about Sigvruuf. He opened the gate and walked onto the bridge. He made his way carefully down the stone path, slick with snow. All who lived in the college became used to this perilous journey. Sigvruuf hadn't heard any stories about apprentices being swept off the bridge into the sea below, but apprentices were known to disappear on occasion. While most magic is relatively safe, there are always risks.

At one particular place, several chucks of the walkway were clearly missing. The mage looked down, and saw rocks, building debris, and more snow and ice. It was hard to imagine Winterhold was once a prosperous city. Now, calling it a town was pushing it. Sigvruuf was pretty sure there were more people in the College than in the town. As he reached the final gate, a figure stepped out from the shadow of the arch.

"Who...Sigvruuf?"

"Faralda. Watching the gate?"

"Yes. The locals are getting restless. The rumors of dragons have stirred up the Jarl. Where are you going?"

"Just to the Frozen Hearth. I need a break from my research."

"It may not be safe."

"The owner of the inn is not as antagonistic as the Jarl. A mage's gold is the same as anyone else."

"I'm not here to stop people from leaving, but the Arch-Mage does want to limit the turnover due to deaths. Bring me some ale when you come back."

"Of course Faralda. If Ranmir hasn't drank it all."

"Ranmir?"

"Town drunk. Good evening." The elf nodded. Sigvruuf walked on, passed several collapsed buildings, a reminder of the town's glorious past. After several minutes of walking through the whirling snow, the Nord arrived at the inn. Not only was the inn a change of scenery, with some good food, but the walk itself, through the whirling snow, was relaxing in and of itself. As a resident of Windhelm, before traveling to the College, Sigvruuf was used to cold snowy weather. He might be a mage, but he was also a Nord.

Dagur was at the counter of the inn as usual. Ranmir was sitting on a bench, descending into yet another drunken stupor. Or perhaps just maintaining one. Another mage was sitting at a table near the wall. Sigvruuf was not an outgoing soul, and so had never bothered to introduce himself. There were a few other patrons, townfolk, that Sigvruuf purposely avoided. He walked up to the counter, and pulled his hood back. A bit of snow fell to the floor.

"Sigvruuf, good to see you. Haran isn't going appreciate having to clean the floor again."

"Sorry, sir. Though I suppose you get a lot of snow tracked in."

"Indeed we do. What can I get for you?"

"Some food, and milk if you have any. And a bottle of ale as well, if there is any left."

"There is. Is the ale for you? Done with your research?"

"It's for a colleague. One's research is never done." Sigvruuf placed some coin on the counter, and found a seat at an empty table. Most of the townspeople in the inn were gathered at one table, discussing politics, and dragons, ironically. Rumors of dragons heard been making there way to the town for several weeks. Despite his visits to the inn, more than many of the mages, he was the most isolated from current events, obsessed with events long past.

As he waited for his food, he pulled out his journal and began studying his notes, adding some more here and there from his recent studies. Eventually, he would have a breakthrough. Though he was afraid it would involve some field work. Maybe he could find someone else to get some Dwemer parts for him.

Dagur came over and set a bowl of stew, which smelled fantastic, some bread, a cup of milk, and a bottle of ale in front of the mage.

"Thank you. Tell Haran it was good, as always." Dagur nodded, and returned to the counter. Sigvruuf dug in enthusiastically, trying to avoid spreading food debris all over his notes. He was largely successful. Despite much study, he had learned primarily two things. Dwemer technology was the most advanced he had ever seen, even after all these years. It far outstripped anything in Tamriel. Second, Dwemer ruins were extremely dangerous. More dangerous than even the draugr in Nordic ruins.

A blast of cold wind whipped across the room, and the inn door slammed shut with a bang and a loud creak. Eirid hurried inside, leaving a trail of snow across the floor. She climbed up on the bench opposite Sigvruuf, and sniffed his soup.

"That smells good."

"It is. I'm sure your father can get you some."

"What are you doing Sig?"

"I'm eating dinner, and reading my notes."

"Don't you ever do anything fun? I was throwing snowballs. I was playing with Assur, but he got mad when I refused to be the elf. He went back into his house. I wish there were more children around. Can I come to the College? I want to see what's inside."

"No, it is too dangerous. Maybe when you are older."

"Assur says it's the mage's fault that most of the town was destroyed."

"I wasn't here when that happened. How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know...sixty?" Sigvruuf laughed.

"Not quite Eirid." The mage took another sip of his stew.

"Eirid, stop pestering Sigvruuf. And clean up after yourself." Haran walked up

"Yes mother." Haran hurried off before Sigvruuf could say anything. Eirid reluctantly cleaned up, and then went behind the counter, presumably to get some stew. Sigvruuf finished his stew, wiping out the remnants with a piece of bread. He drained the rest of his milk, about half of the glass, with one gulp. He rose from the table, and headed out into the night.

It was quite dark, and was still snowing heavily. The College could barely be made out through the whirling flakes of white. Sigvruuf pulled his hood closer, but it barely cut out the cold wind. The lights from the guard's torches and the buildings provided minimal light. The mage let the magicka pool in his hand, and form into a small sphere of light. It floated up, stopping just above his head.

The arcane glow from the orb provided enough illumination for Sigvruuf to make his way to the College bridge without loosing his footing. As he approached, he noticed a figure in battered armor and a cloak, snowflakes resting in the creases and cracks of the armor. The figure was leaning against the stone wall, talking with Faralda. Hopefully it wasn't someone coming to cause problems.

Sigvruuf couldn't hear the conversation yet, but the visitor nodded, raised an arm, and let a bolt of fire go. It slammed into the stone path of the bridge, sending tongues of flames about. Faralda nodded, and motioned towards the bridge, but then noticed Sigvruuf approaching. She waited until the apprentice had reached him.

"Did you get what I asked for?" Sigvruuf nodded, and handed her the ale. "This will warm me up a little." She turned to the visitor. "Come this way, I will introduce you to our Master Wizard, Mirabelle Ervine. And then to a warm bed."

"Thank you." The visitor bowed slightly. He then turned to the other mage. "Greetings." Sigvruuf saw that it was in fact a young woman, a Nord, with a scar running down one cheek. She looked very tired, a sword hanging at her side, and a shield on one arm.

"Hello. Sigvruuf, one of the apprentice mages."

"Riktla," she said simply. The two followed Faralda across the bridge. The Altmer lit the lights as they went. Soon, they reached the main gate, and entered the college courtyard.

"I'll take you to meet Mirabelle. Sigvruuf, can you prepare a room for our new student."

"Of course." Sigvruuf walked back to the Hall of Attainment, glad to be out of the wind and snow for a bit. Crossing the bridge was always a cold affair on the windy nights of Winterhold. Sigvruuf found an unused room. He fixed the bed, swept the floor a bit, and made sure everything was in order. The dwellings were simple, but comfortable enough. Sigvruuf surveyed his work.

"Are you the janitor now?" a slightly disdainful voice intoned. He turned to see an Altmer apprentice, Eldana, and the Dunmer, Brienne...no, Brelyna standing behind him.

"We have a new student."

"Oh?"

"A Nord, looked like an adventurer, but not that old. Riktla, I think."

"Doesn't sound like a mage," commented Eldana.

"Wizards come in all shapes and sizes." Sigvruuf returned to his room, and began organizing his desk. There would be plenty of research and training to be had tomorrow. He was startled as the Master Wizard walked up behind him.

"Sigvruuf, thank you for preparing a room for our new student."

"It was no trouble, Master Wizard."

"Good. She wanted me to thank you for her. She is quite tired, and I believe is retiring."

"She appeared exhausted. Did she mention where she had come from?"

"Whiterun. A good journey, especially on foot. Be sure you are in the Hall of the Elements for Tofdir's lecture tomorrow. Though your vein of research is certainly intriguing, you have much to learn still."

"I will be there."

"Good. A good night to you." The Master Wizard turned and left. Sigvruuf sank into his bed. It was not the most comfortable bed, but at this point, he was prety sure he could fall asleep on a stone bed. Before he descended into dreams, he was pretty sure he heard the newcomer talking to Brelyna and Eldana. But his mind was soon filled with diagrams and elven script. Even his subconscious could not escape his research.