Bonjour mon petit croissants. :) (Lol where the hell did that come from?)
As promised, here's some of that Skyrim stuff I promised. :D So this is the backstory for my Dovahkiin named Eleanor. It's basically how she met her best friend Brynjolf. More info at the bottom about where I'm going with this. The title references the song "A Mhaighadean Bhan Uasal (Noble Maiden Fair)" performed by Emma Thompson and Peigi Barker from the movie Brave. (You should check out the song! Super awesome and will play a role in future fics!) (It's in Gaelic though.)
I do not own The Elder Scrolls or any of its characters, settings, etc. It all belongs to Bethesda. However, I do own Eleanor.
Allons-y!
Noble Maiden Fair: An Origin
"You'll have to stay strong," her father told her. "The faint of heart cannot take the life of another creature. Just stay strong, my little Eleanor, and you'll do fine." Then he smiled and kissed her forehead as she fell asleep.
Then the house was on fire. "Run, run as fast as you can," the cold, biting voice echoed. "But I will catch you. Maybe if you're lucky you'll die before I can get to you." The laughter penetrated her skull, sending shivers up her spine.
Ten-year-old Eleanor woke with a start, goosebumps forming on her arms as the electricity of fear raced through her body. It was just a dream, she reminded herself, tucking her dirty cloak tightly around her small body.
The sun was just beginning to rise above the Velothi Mountains, its cold and distant rays giving light and warmth to the harsh landscape of Skyrim. She sighed and sat up, leaning her body against the trunk of the enormous fir tree she'd been sleeping beneath. She reached out and searched her pack for some food but was disappointed. Her supplies were running low. If she didn't reach Windhelm soon she'd run out of food.
She took a slab of salted beef out of her pack and nibbled at the tough meat. She wasn't particularly hungry but she knew she'd need her strength if she was going to walk the entire way to Eastmarch's capital.
Eleanor, having finished half of the portion, stood and dusted off her cloak and trousers. Then she rebraided her hair and strapped her steel dagger—a gift from her father—to her belt. She slung her pack over her shoulders and started to walk north.
It had been seven days since her parents' murder. Since then she'd followed the White River into Eastmarch, hoping to cross the Dunmeth Pass into Morrowind. Her father had told her it took four days to get anywhere in Skyrim from Whiterun if you knew where to go. Unfortunately, Eleanor was not well-versed with map reading and had accidentally lost sight of the road during a particularly bad rainstorm and thusly lost precious time.
She sighed and took out her map, orienting it to it showed the direction she was heading. At least the river goes right past Windhelm, she thought with relief. And the road shouldn't be so far away if I'm reading this right.
She put the map away and set her gaze to the northeast. As long as she kept in that direction she'd find the road. Then there would no longer be any need for a map.
About an hour later she found the road. A slight smile crossed her chapped lips and she nearly cried out in joy. About ten miles out was Windhelm, its massive stone walls cold and imposing compared to Whiterun's ancient, crumbling walls.
She meandered down the road for a short time when she heard the sound of hoof beats approach behind her. Her heart began to race as she thought of Malkar and his gang. Her senses instantly heightened and she drew her dagger with lightning-fast speed. She turned and a snarl bubbled up in the back of her throat.
But the rider wasn't an elf. He was young; probably around fifteen or sixteen. He was tall and muscular, betraying him as a Nord. He was a wearing a strange brown leather armor with a hood, fingerless gloves, and several satchels and belts. An orcish dagger was belted to his side.
As he approached Eleanor she didn't lower her dagger. He must be a spy for them, she thought wildly. He'll tell them where I am.
The boy stopped next to her and he gazed steadily down at her. She noticed his eyes were a piercing emerald. "Do you need help, lass?" he asked in a lilting voice.
She glared, her own sapphire eyes like ice. "No," she growled. "I don't know you. Now leave me alone." She lowered her weapon but didn't sheathe it. Then she turned around and began to walk down the road toward Windhelm.
The boy directed his horse in front of her and once again she glared at him. He held out a hand and she glared at that too. "You're tired and hungry," he said. "Let me help you."
She looked up at him as he lowered is hood. His hair was a dark red, glinting in the morning sunlight. He was slightly handsome despite his youth and his eyes were kind. With a heavy sigh she sheathed her dagger and took his hand. Then he swung her up onto the horse's back.
The boy nudged the horse with his heels and it began to trot north toward Windhelm. "So what's your name, lass?" the boy asked, turning to look at her.
"Eleanor," she answered, gripping his waist so she wouldn't fall off. "And you?"
"The name's Brynjolf," he replied. "You wouldn't be happened to be heading in the direction of Windhelm would you?"
Eleanor's hand inched toward her dagger. "Yes," she murmured. "Who wants to know?" Her tiny hand gripped the hilt of the dagger and began inching it out of the sheath. Dagger to the neck, her mind raced desperately. Drag him down, disarm him, question him, then steal the horse.
"Just curious, lass," Brynjolf told her easily. His tone said he wasn't lying. "It's not often that you see a young girl—you're what? Seven? Eight?—travelling alone in the wilderness. You're probably a refugee too, judging by your appearance. I'm guessing you lost your family recently. You don't have any other family and you don't want to be shipped to Honorhall."
Her eyes marginally widened. "How in the name of the Divines did you figure all that out?" she asked.
"It's all about sizing up your mark," he said with a wink. "Your clothes are dirty. You probably haven't washed them in a while so you've been travelling for a long time but only for a few days. You've got dark circles under your eyes which means that you haven't been sleeping well. Most likely you've been having nightmares caused by the death of your parents. If you had any other family you wouldn't have a problem with staying with them, unless, of course, you didn't like your family. However, judging from the engraving on your dagger, you loved your family dearly. That rules out the option of having other relatives. Therefore you would have been sent to Honorhall if you hadn't left."
Her eyes lowered. "Correct on all counts," she said begrudgingly, "except for one. I'm ten, not eight." Her height came from having a Breton mother, thus making her look younger than she was. (Bretons were not the tallest race.) She paused, thinking of how to continue the conversation so it wasn't awkward. "What about you? I've never seen armor like that before. Are you on your own or do you have a family?"
Brynjolf scowled. "I'm fifteen. My parents died when I was five along with my three older sisters. I was shipped off to Honorhall not long after. I only stayed for a few weeks before I left with some friends of mine. We've been working for an organization that operates out of Riften ever since. They're the only family I'll ever need." He cleared his throat. "So where are you from? You've been on the road for a while so my guess is Markarth."
"My grandparents were from Markarth," Eleanor told him. "My mother was a Breton and my father a Nord. I've lived just east of Fort Greymoor, in Whiterun Hold, my entire life… Until recently, of course."
The rest of the ride was silent; save for the horse trotting along the road, the occasional birdcall, and the dull roar of the river.
After two hours they came to the stables outside of Windhelm. Brynjolf dismounted first and then helped Eleanor off of the grey spotted mare. She adjusted her pack on her shoulders and tried her hardest to wipe off the healthy layer of grime she'd accumulated over the last several days in order to look somewhat presentable.
As they walked along the bridge leading up to the main gate she turned to Brynjolf and said softly, "This is nothing like Whiterun."
He smiled down at her and patted her shoulder. "Then you're in for a real shock once we're inside the gates."
The two guards who flanked the gate nodded to them and opened the large, ornate doors. Brynjolf and Eleanor entered the city and she felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs. "Wow," she whispered.
The city was enormous compared the the closeness of Whiterun. The buildings, made of heavy stone and covered in ice and snow, were colossal compared to her petite size. People were bustling around, dressed in warm furs and thick wool. They carried baskets full of fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, potions, ingredients, and other assorted goods. They spoke rapidly and generally ignored her presence.
Her eyes went wide as her senses were assaulted by the new sights and smells. Brynjolf smiled at her astonishment. "Definitely not a city dweller," he noted with a slight laugh as they maneuvered through the crowd.
She shook her head and clung to his arm in an attempt not to lose him. "I grew up on the tundra with the occasional visit to the hold capital. And even then I rarely visited the market. My mother and father usually left me under the care of the Grey-Manes so I wouldn't get in the way or get lost."
They entered the local inn called Candlehearth Hall and he said, "I'll help you get settled. The innkeeper here owes the organization I work for a few favors so stay as long as you need to."
Brynjolf paid for her board and food and she couldn't stop thanking him. No one had ever shown her such kindness and she was surprised he wanted to help her despite her inability to repay him.
One day I'll repay you, she thought as she fell asleep that night, warm and dry and content in her bed.
X~X~X
The next several weeks passed by quickly but with a certain slowness. Eleanor spent her days earning her keep (she was quite insistent despite the innkeepers protests) by sweeping the floors and assisting the cook with buying food supplies at the market. She served food to patrons in the evenings and usually fell asleep exhausted. But she was paid for her work, giving her the means to go to Morrowind as soon as possible. She spent every spare moment with Brynjolf, whose work was taking longer than he expected. He showed her around the city and introduced her to the ways of city life.
In that time she and Brynjolf became close friends. Once, when some boys only slightly older than Eleanor were bullying her, he threatened to have them put in the prisons. Needless to say they left her alone after that.
But they both needed to carry on with their lives. He was needed by his organization (he was still secretive about who he worked for) and she needed to flee the country. It was time for them to part ways.
They were sitting on the stone steps in front of the Palace of the Kings, sharing some bread and cheese. A moment of silence fell around them and Eleanor piped up, "I'll have to leave soon." She instinctively clutched her amulet of Talos, silently praying for strength. "I can't risk staying her for much longer.
Brynjolf nodded knowingly. "Aye. I'd best be getting back to Riften. My job here is done and I can't delay anymore." His eyes met hers as they stood. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Eleanor."
She smiled up at him. "You as well, Bryn." She bit her lip and after a moment of hesitation she hugged him. "Thank you so much."
He hugged her back for a moment and then released her. "Take care of yourself lass. And visit me in Riften when you get a chance. It would be nice to hear from you every once a while."
She laughed and smiled. "I'll see what I can do."
With that Brynjolf turned and walked away, pulling his hood over her red hair as he did so. Eleanor's smile disappeared and she stared after him.
Thank you, Brynjolf. I promise to repay you someday.
So I'm writing a complete, multi-chapter fanfic with sequels. It's going to take a lot of time to get those moving so please be patient. c: Especially since I have exams coming up after spring break and I'll be breaking my back since I'm taking two AP classes next year. (I'm going to die lol.)
Just so you guys know: Eleanor is the descendant of Elaine (my Hero of Kvatch) and Martin Septim. I highly recommend reading my fic about them called Embrace of the Divine. IT'S REALLY CUTE AND REALLY FLUFFY. c: And you can hope to see more Eleanor soon! I promise she'll be in full Dragonborn mode once the next fic is out. (Fifteen year time lapse ftw!)
Please remember to review as every little bit helps! Thank you again for suffering through my excessive ranting!
~A$h