Author's Note: This is my very first fic ever, please go easy on me. This chapter might seem a little dull but it's establishing character relationships and what's going on! Please leave comments if you like it or don't and what I could do differently. Also I don't own anything but the character Remel :)
Remel blinked, a hand on her head, and looked around, taking in the small sandy island she lay on, the sea lapping gently at the shore, and the volcano in the distance. She looked down at herself; she wore a tattered shirt that left her arms bare, filthy brown breeches, and old boots. Checked her pockets: empty.
Remel groaned, wondering how the divines she ended up in this situation.
With a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet and cast around the tiny island, looking for anything she could use. A number of familiar spiky grasses popped up through the ash, and she gathered a few of the seed pods. Maybe she could eat them? Or sell them, when she got to a city. If she got to a city.
There was nothing for it. She was going to have to swim.
The air was brisk, but warm, although Remel knew it would feel cold as soon as she was wet. But she took a deep breath and plunged into the chilly water.
Remel jerked upward with a gasp, hands tangled in the soft blanket around her. Above her was the round damp dome of the cistern; beside her, the trunk which held all her earthly belongings. The soft sound of voices echoed around the large open space, and Remel laid back with a huff, pushing away the dream that seemed harmless, but was so much worse because it was a memory.
After taking a short moment to collect herself, she rose and dressed, pulling the worn, too-big Guild jacket over a plain shirt, and donning soft breeches with a multitude of pockets. She left her feet bare; she loved to feel the ground beneath her, and went barefoot whenever possible. Her space was out in the open and afforded no privacy, but she didn't really mind—none of them did. They were family, after all.
With a soft sigh, she followed the sound of voices over to the kitchen area and settled at the table beside Rune. Cynric and Vipir sat across from them, whispering about some bold new job they wanted to undertake. She wondered where Niruin, her fellow Bosmer, had gotten off to, then hoped he was on a job. A simple, lucrative job.
"Bad dreams again?" Rune inquired softly, and Remel nodded.
"Not too bad, today. Just...memories."
"You're safe now," he assured her, and bumped his shoulder against hers.
She smiled. A month ago, even that little bit of contact would have caused her to close up, but she was better now. Now, it was a comfort, and Rune knew it.
Remel grabbed breakfast from the center of the table: a green apple, a slice of cheese, and a small chunk of bread. "I should go on a job today," she commented at the meager food, and Rune nodded.
"The pantry is certainly running low. I heard Delvin grumbling about gnomes last night. Do you want company?"
"Sure." She smiled at him, then finished her cheese and rose. "I'll go check with Delvin if there's anything nearby. Be back in a few."
Delvin was seated in the Ragged Flagon, drinking, as per usual, despite the fact that it couldn't have been later than nine in the morning. Remel felt a rush of sympathy for the older man; his superstitions, silly as they seemed to most, kept him up at night.
"Morning, Rem," he mumbled when she approached, and she perched on the chair across from him.
"How are you, Delvin? Need anything? How is your stomach feeling today?"
He chuckled and took another swig of ale. "I feel like Oblivion, as usual, child. Stuck under the weight of this damn curse, the only solution drinking myself to death. But you don't need to trouble yourself over me."
Remel sighed at the old man's pessimism. "I'll bring you some more sleeping droughts later, if I can get Elgrim to part with his last few swamp fungi."
"Ach, don't bother, girlie. Can't stand the taste of those potions anyway, and you need to save up your gold. Plus mead does the same thing."
"It does not, and you know it," Remel said firmly. "Besides, you're family, Delvin. I'll never regret spending gold on family."
He grumbled under his breath for a moment. Then: "Did you come out here to lecture me, or what?"
Remel sighed and sat back. "Rune and I were hoping for a job. Do you have anything nearby?"
He set down his bottle and rifled through a number of different pockets, finally pulling out a folded, wrinkled piece of paper. "Here. I was saving it for you. Sent Thrynn all the way to Markarth so you wouldn't have to."
Remel felt a rush of relief and gratitude, and took the paper, then stood to embrace the old codger. "Thank you. We'll be back before sundown."
She hurried back to the cistern and found Rune at his bed, pulling on boots. "Here." She placed the letter in his hand. "What poor soul are we robbing today?"
Rune took the letter and scanned it quickly. "Balimund. Just a numbers job. Should be simple; you don't even need me."
Remel caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, and Rune blushed. "Well, uh—sorry. You do need me. But, y'know, usually, you wouldn't—"
"Shhh," Remel advised, and he acquiesced. Remel's illiteracy was a well-known fact, but still, most found it a bit awkward to address. In Skyrim, it was rare to find anyone who couldn't read. But Remel hadn't been raised in Skyrim, nor had she had anything resembling a "normal" childhood.
"I'll distract," she offered, and Rune nodded. "We should be done in no time. Then I need to stop by Elgrim's."
Rune frowned. "You shouldn't indulge him." He was talking about Delvin, of course.
"You shouldn't let him suffer so much," she retorted, temper flaring, and Rune wisely dropped the subject.
An hour later, Remel sat in the warmth on the edge of Balimund's forge, watching as he showed her how to sharpen the edge of her steel dagger. She had left behind her Guild jacket in favor of a sky-blue dress, one which contrasted prettily with her light brown skin and raven-black hair. She had tied a strip of matching fabric around her head to keep her hair back, revealing the tips of her pointed ears. At the tender age of seventeen—young for a human, let alone a bosmer—Remel was a favorite among Riften's citizens. Of course, they thought she was just a lost young girl, learning alchemy and trying to make her way in the world, not a member of the Thieve's Guild. Her wide, guileless green eyes and heart-shaped face immediately excused her of suspicion, and she—and the Guild—took full advantage of that fact.
"That way, the blade is all smooth and regular, not jagged or uneven," Balimund finished, holding up the dagger, Remel's sole weapon, and one she could barely use, at that. She kept it on her mostly for alchemy and cooking.
"Thank you," Remel said with a soft smile. "It was getting so dull. I suppose that's because it isn't made for cutting cheese and apples."
"On the contrary," the friendly young blacksmith grinned. "That's precisely what little stickers like this are made for. I'm glad it's seeing any use at all."
Remel nodded and took the knife, tucking it in her belt. As she stepped away from the warmth of the forge, she let out an involuntary shiver. For a girl born and bred in Solstheim in the shadow of an active volcano, the cold of Skyrim—even now, in early fall, when the days were still long—she found the chill difficult to bear.
Balimund saw the movement and frowned. "Don't you have anything warmer, little elf?"
Remel shrugged. "I arrived here in late spring. I haven't needed anything more. I suppose...well, I should start saving for winter clothes, shouldn't I?" She tugged at the coin purse at her belt and frowned. It was depressingly light. She'd be surprised if she had a hundred gold to her name. "Do you sell raw furs? Perhaps I could make one. Or ask Grelka..."
"No need." Balimund reached under his workbench and pulled out a heavy gray cloak. "With all the wolves around here, I have a surplus of furs, and nothing much to do with them. Here." He handed her the cloak.
Remel reached again for her coin purse, but Balimund shook his head. "Don't you dare, little elf. I won't have you freezing to death on my conscience."
Remel felt her cheeks flush and took the cloak gratefully, swinging it around her shoulders and clasping it at the throat. It was big on her petite form, dragging a bit on the ground, and enveloping her like a tent. A large hood lay down her back; she pulled it up and disappeared within its folds.
"How do I look?" She spun around and giggled from the darkness under the hood. "It's far too big. I can't see a thing."
When she pushed the hood back, Balimund was smiling. "It's perfect. You can use it as a blanket if you need. Now, go on. I'm sure you have ingredients to harvest and potions to make."
Remel gushed her thanks and then hurried away, headed for the city gates. She did have ingredients to harvest, and hopefully trade with Elgrim. More importantly, she had to meet with Rune and make sure he had finished the job.
Using a basket borrowed from Marise, Remel made her slow way down to the lake, clipping flowers, digging roots, and snapping up bees and butterflies as she went. When she finally reached her meeting point with Rune she had a full basket and he was waiting impatiently.
"Sorry," she sighed before he could speak. "I got a bit caught up. How did it go?"
"Good." He grinned. "In and out the back door and no one is the wiser." He looked skeptically at her cloak. "What about you?"
Remel flushed. "He took pity on me," she said by way of excuse, and Rune shrugged.
"Well, good. That's one less thing for you to worry about. Are you off to see Elgrim?"
"Yes. Hopefully he'll be willing to make a trade. I'll find you in the Cistern after." Rune nodded his agreement and faded back into the shadows. Remel lost sight of him in moments.
Remel turned back toward the city, this time stooping underneath the docks and heading toward the canal-side buildings. Rune's words stuck with her; one less thing for you to worry about. It was a kind sentiment, and nothing new; ever since she had arrived, sick, exhausted, and traumatized from what had happened to her, every guild member had done nothing but look out for her. And she was so grateful, for without them she would no doubt have been lost. But she couldn't bear to be this burden forever. Eventually she'd have to branch out. Become more independent. Rely on herself. The thought made her shiver.
Not that she didn't earn her keep. She was a natural thief, and despite the slight drawback of her illiteracy, she could do most anything asked of her. She was young, yes, and inexperienced, but with a bit of help she improved rapidly. Every job was easier, every day more hopeful. She was okay. She had survived, and she had a whole new life, a whole new family.
Except for the dreams.
Remel arrived at Elgrim's shop and slipped inside. The old man was working in the corner, and Remel had to say his name thrice before he noticed she was there.
He rolled his eyes. "What do you need this time? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"I need the swamp fungi," Remel begged, and Elgrim immediately scowled. "Please, Elgrim," She said, before he could argue. "I have a client—a close friend of mine—who only wants to drink himself to death. The sleep potions make it easier for him. They make him feel better. I brought things to trade." She held out the basket, and Elgrim poked through it, the scowl still fixed on his face.
"I can get all this easily, myself," he grumbled. "But the fungi are expensive, and hard to come by. They have to ship all the way from Hjaalmarch. It will be weeks before I can get more."
Remel desperately pulled out her half-empty coin purse. "I'll pay, too," she said, her voice catching. "Please. Please."
Elgrim sighed heavily and reached under the counter, pulling out five of the bulbous white pods. Remel took them reverently and tucked them in a padded pouch on her belt, made specifically for fragile ingredients. "How much do I owe you?"
"Fifty gold," Elgrim said gruffly. He glanced at the basket in front of him. "Keep all this. I have more than I need already. You'll find more use out of it."
Remel counted out the gold carefully, much to grateful to argue at the exorbitant price, then took the basket back and uttered her thanks to Elgrim, earning a grunt in response. Holding her basket and now much-depleted coin purse, she hurried back to the Guild.