Chapter One: The Traveling Bard (Morndas/Tirdas/Middas, 18th/19th/20th of Last Seed)
The young elf had gotten himself into quite the pickle now. He was lost. Completely. After all he and his siblings had gone through to stay together, he'd lost them. They'd rescued him, they'd traveled for miles facing dangers together, and then he went and got distracted by some beautiful scenery and couldn't find his way back to camp. His sisters were probably worried sick about him.
He sat on a rock at the edge of the cobbled road, running a hand through his long blonde hair. He'd traveled in every direction he could and yet kept finding himself back on this accursed rock.
He couldn't find his way back to their camp. He couldn't find the town of Helgen. Hell, he didn't even know if he was in Skyrim or Cyrodiil. He felt useless. Aerenwen was the warrior. Mari was the mage. Nesta was the resourceful on, and Elain was the hunter. Glenys had the knowledge of geography and different cultures. What could he do? Play the lute and embellish a story. What good was that when it came to surviving?
At this point, all he could hope for was to be found by one of his siblings, or another traveler, and pray to the divines that whoever came along wasn't one of the Thalmor who were looking for him.
It had been hours, it seemed. He'd wandered all night and through most of the day before giving up and plopping himself down onto the rock he kept passing. The sun was beginning to set, and he thought for sure he would find himself prey to some wild creature before the night was over. It wasn't as if he could actually defend himself with the dagger he wore.
Whistling drew his attention, and he looked down the road, seeing a man in simple clothing approaching him. He had fair hair and sun-kissed skin, and he carried a small satchel and a lute strapped to his back.
"Hello there, fellow traveler!" the man greeted warmly when he noticed the elf. "One itinerant minstrel and wandering wastrel at your service."
"You're a bard?" the elf asked, finding this stranger's jovial attitude contagious.
"That I am," he replied. "Trained at the Bard's College in Solitude."
A college for bards? The elf was intrigued.
"I am Talsgar," the man stated, extending a hand for a shake. "They call me 'the Wanderer'."
"Steffen," the elf replied, accepting his handshake. "What are you doing way out here?"
"Why, I'm out here to perform for the common man, of course!" Talsgar replied. "Why should only the courts and inns of wealthy towns be given the gift of music?"
"So you just wander around looking for places to perform?" Steffen wasn't a stranger to bards. He'd often dreamt of becoming one, despite his father's disapproval. The bardic tradition was one that the humans generally followed, not the elves.
"I do," Talsgar answered. "Some may find their inspiration locked away in tomes or by carousing in the cities, but I find mine here in the vast expanse of beautiful Skyrim. The best tales are those of adventure. Who could truly write of such without experiencing it for himself?"
Steffen had to admit the man had a point, though he doubted he'd ever be courageous enough to strike off into the world on his own.
"What brings you here?" Talsgar asked.
"I was traveling with my sisters, and we were separated," Steffen replied.
"Where were you headed?" the bard asked. "Perhaps you could find them there."
"Helgen," Steffen replied.
The bard frowned. "I'm sorry to be one to give you the news, friend, but Helgen was destroyed just this morning. I came from that direction, traveling from Riften, and they say a dragon attacked from out of the mountains. The town is in ruins, and there were few survivors."
Steffen sat in shock for a few moments. If his sisters had made it to Helgen, chances were they were dead. And a dragon? It was unbelievable.
"Are you new to Skyrim?" the bard asked.
Steffen nodded. "And quite lost. And now unsure of where to go."
"Well, if it's any consolation, you're welcome to join me in my travels until you find a place that strikes your fancy," the bard offered.
"Thank you," Steffen replied. "That's very kind. It seems I don't have much choice but to take you up on that offer."
The pair of travelers spent nights in Falkreath and Rorikstead. They stopped at farms and hunter's outposts along the way. The people all seemed to know Talsgar and were pleased to see him. They met with other bards at the inns in the towns who Talsgar knew, and they performed together, even inviting Steffen to join them.
"You're really quite good," Talsgar commented on the second day of their travels, as they walked the wooded road between Falkreath and Rorikstead. "You should really consider staying in Solitude when we get there and looking into joining the Bard's College. It's not for everyone, but you certainly have the talent."
The closer they came to Solitude the more seriously Steffen began to take Talsgar's suggestion, and by the time they reached the great stone walls of Skyrim's capital city, he had decided he would look into it. He'd always complained that he had no talent aside from his music, and perhaps, by studying at the college, he could make a life for himself through it.
Upon entering the city of Solitude during the evening of the third day, they walked upon the scene of what appeared to be a public execution.
A large, bearded man in the uniform of an Imperial officer stood upon a raised stone platform with a man of equally large stature whose face was hidden by a black executioner's hood. A smaller man with neatly cropped brown hair stood between them, hands bound behind his back.
Steffen was distracted from the spectacle by a little girl nearby.
"They can't hurt uncle Roggvir," she was crying, pulling at the shirt of a tired-looking man. "Father, tell them he didn't do it!"
"Svari," the man replied, "you need to go home. Go home and stay there until your mother comes."
"Yes, Father," the little blonde girl replied, turning and running away down the stone street.
"You should tell her that her uncle is scum who betrayed the High King," a woman nearby told the man. "Best she know now, Addvar."
"You're all heart, Vivienne," he replied with a sigh.
"Roggvir, you helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude after he murdered the high king," the Imperial officer on the stage-like platform called out over the crowd. The people gathered immediately ceased talking and were all ears. It had always amazed Steffen that people, human and mer alike, garnered such amusement from the punishment of their peers. "By opening the gate for Ulfric, you betrayed the people of Solitude."
Various members of the audience jeered and cried out.
"Traitor!"
"He doesn't deserve the right to speak!"
"There was no murder!" the prisoner cried out. "Ulfric challenged Torygg! He beat the High King in fair combat!"
"Liar!" spectators yelled.
"Such is our way!" the prisoner continued. "Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim! Of all Nords!"
More jeering from the gathered citizens.
"Guard, prepare the prisoner," the officer stated.
"I don't need your help," the prisoner replied stubbornly, rolling his shoulder to get the guard's hands off him.
"Very well," the officer replied. "Roggvir, bow your head."
The prisoner knelt before the chopping block and rested his head on it. His final words, spoken just loud enough for those gathered to hear, were, "Today I go to Sovngarde."
Steffen winced and couldn't help looking away as the headsman's axe split through the man's spine, separating his head from his body.
"Well, that was an ugly welcome to this beautiful city," Talsgar commented. "Come, Steffen. The inn is this way."
The inn in Solitude, called The Winking Skeever, was by far the finest inn outside of Cyrodiil that Steffen had visited. It was light and airy, richly decorated, and bustling with patrons. Talsgar immediately wandered off to greet some friends, and Steffen approached the counter where a man with chin-length blonde hair and long moustache greeted him with a smile.
"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend," he stated warmly. "Skyrim may be plagued by traitors, civil war, and now dragons, but those troubles don't cross my doorway. Sit, relax, have a bite to eat."
Steffan thanked the man and had a seat on one of the wooden stools. "Your inn has an interesting name," he commented. "How did you come up with it?"
"I had a pet skeever when I was boy, and he used to wink," the man replied with a chuckle. "It's a fond memory, and I thought it would be a memorable name. My name's Corpulus Vinius. I've run the inn here in Solitude for over a decade now and have lived in Solitude most of my life. If you've any questions about the city, or are looking for any juicy gossip, I'm sure I can oblige."
Steffan introduced himself and mentioned the execution he had just witnessed.
"I'm sorry that was your first impression of our fine city," Corpulus replied. "As a rule, Solitude's streets are peaceful, and its citizens content. What brings you here, anyway?"
"I'm looking into joining the Bard's College," Steffen explained. "It was recommended to me by a friend, and I thought it was worth a look."
"Ah, yes, most of the bards in Skyrim were trained there," the innkeeper answered. "Lisette, our resident bard, graduated a few years ago herself. You should talk to her. One of your race, Viarmo, is the headmaster of the college. He's the one you'll want to talk to join, I assume."
Steffen thanked him for the advice and paid him some coin to rent a room for the night. He bid Talsgar farewell, assuming the bard would be wandering off again first thing in the morning, and retired to his spacious and comfortable room for the night.
Author's Note: This is the first part of the final sibling's story. If you haven't read the first part of each of the five sisters, they can be found on my profile. After following Steffen through a few chapters, we'll check back in with Aerenwen and see what adventures the month of Hearthfire brings for her.
