Chapter Two- Captive

Laurelin hefted her small pack onto her shoulders, slender arms moving in coordinated grace, buckling the straps with a few quick snaps of her long, tapered fingers. A crude hunting bow and quiver followed, an easy comfort in her mind, always ready. She took one last look around last nights fireless camp as she braided long white-blond hair back out of her face.

It was time to be going. The final pass into Skyrim loomed tall before her, icy and treacherous. However, with skill and a little luck, she could be back to Riften inside a week. Laurelin started out, whistling softly. Her pale, wide spaced eyes traveled up her path as she hiked ever further up.

Soon her steps carried her out of the frigid depths of the forest blanketing the mountain slope, and she was crossing a stony, steep blanket of blinding white. Laurelin moved silent and sure, light steps barely dimpling the crisp snow underfoot. Memories crowded her mind, joy and sorrow woven so tightly together in her heart they could never be separated.

Two months had barely dimmed the anguish of loosing her oldest grandson. She had purified herself, sang the song of Leave Taking, led the family through the rituals. She never wanted to do it again. A mere month to hold her newest, cuddling him close, staring raptly into his wide, wise eyes. She had so reluctantly kissed his forehead-that she could do forever- whispered a blessing, and returned the tiny bundle to her daughter. Farewells had been simple, pleasantly short. Laurelin knew it might be a dozen or so years before she saw them again. However, such long separations were common enough to a race of people who might live several more centuries than Laure already had.

Now the final ascent over the pass was climbing steadily up, leading her yet farther from that chapter of her life. Cresting the last rise, Laurelin paused and looked out, down into Skyrim, smiling widely. Interesting things always seemed to happen in this small, beautiful land. She picked her way easily down slope, heading east by north toward Riften. Laure hoped to cut out several hours of slow boulder scrambling by hitting a jagged, low crest of rock that poked up above the tree line. Going over rather than around was much more her style.

With her mind alternating between thoughts of family, and her need to hunt, Laurelin should not have been surprised to find herself in an up close and personal encounter with a mother bear. Yet she was. Nose to snout with a startled bear. Charming. Laure summoned up her power, let her mind fill with non threatening thoughts, and urged the snorting beast to remain calm, while the tiny elf slowly inched back, arms loose, ready to tumble away if she needed to.

"I see your youngling, brave mother. I won't hurt your cub. You should go find some salmon. Keep cub fed." She imparted these sensations cautiously. Bears were the most skittish of all beasts when it came to persuading them their offspring were safe. Laurelin was now two, three paces away, edging further out of reach. The giant shaggy mother turned her beady eyes to search out her cub. He huddled nearby, grunting curiously. Swinging her eyes back to where the intruder has stood, only the scent of leather and furs remained.

Laurelin laughed and cursed herself as she scampered quickly over the nearest rock piles. That had been entirely too close! She had all but hinged the creatures mouth open and crawled in! A little more awareness on her part might not be amiss she decided. Thus was Laurelin further surprised the next moment to discover she had-laughing and singing no less- leaped straight into a newly awakened regiment of Imperial soldiers. "Damnation and hellfire!" she swore to herself, song forgotten.

Two dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her with alarming hostility painting every face. Laurelin kept her arms out, teetering on her toes, poised lightly on the rock she had just bounded onto. Frozen in place.

"Hold right there!" Several of the regiment barked together. Swords began appearing in gauntleted fists. A swift glance around showed several soldiers already surrounding her, cutting off a quick escape. Arms still up and out, hands empty of weapons, she relaxed back onto her heels, hoping to put them at ease.

A lieutenant marched forward, shoving a few regulars out of his way. His dark eyes moved from the barbaric elf figure before him to the woods behind her. Two flicks of his fingers and one group of three men surrounded Laurelin more tightly, another group moved off to search for possible spies in the woods. "Hold there, elf. What business do you have here?"

Laurelin shrugged and said in her low musical voice, "I return to Skyrim from my homeland.. I was attending to family matters, nothing more." She levelly returned his stare and waited.

"Is that so? So where might you be headed?"

"Riften is my destination this fine morning. Jarl Laila has told me I need to join her for supper soon. I was going to take her up on her offer." While not one hundred percent accurate, there was truth to what she said. Some. Laila did like her to come for supper, however Laure had plans that included a certain red-headed rogue, not the Jarl.

The lieutenant scowled, clearly not believing this ruffian was in sweet and cozy with the Jarl of Riften. Not that it mattered to him anyway. "Take her, we'll let the Captain sort her out."

Laurelin dropped like a fresh corpse to the ground, tumbling and rolling, desperately trying to evade the multitude of hands grabbing for her. What felt like scores of iron pincers clamped around her her arms, legs, pack, pulled her hair forcefully. She struggled briefly then stilled, understanding that if she resisted further she'd just be thrashed until unable to resist any more. She swallowed back taunting curses, furious with herself, with them. "Damned Imperials! Damn you Laurelin Vo'Shai!" She gritted her teeth as she watched her pack emptied and searched, her bow and quiver kicked aside in the mud.

"Now sit quiet elf, while we figure out what comes next." The lieutenant had unnecessarily ordered her before striding off, his armor creaking as he went. The sun was high in the sky and Laurelin was growing thirsty when he returned. "I have some pretty bracelets for you to wear!" As if he was clever and that was funny. Laurelin, mortified was shackled and chained to the side of a wagon. Her fetters were short, wouldn't allow her much room for anything at all she quickly discovered. She could squat, and she could stand. So she stood, angrily staring at the smug man in front of her. "Tell me elf, what do you know of Ulfric Stormcloak and his movements?"

She blinked in surprise, her lips pursed together. "Ulfric? He's the Jarl of Windhelm and the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. I've heard that he may or may not have killed the High King in Solitude. Other than that I can not say more." She waited, wondered what this was about, having too many suspicions of her own.

"Can not or will not say?" muttered the man caustically.

Laurelin's temper flared "I know little enough about the whole thing, and I desire to know even less after this horseshit! What is this about"? The officer spun on his heel and marched away with out answer. Shortly a regular came up to her with a cup and a bundle of tattered looking clothes. The cup had broth, warm and savory. Laure blew across the top until it was cool enough to drink and tipped it back in one long swallow.

The soldier who had brought her the broth admired her lean figure while she hunched on her heels, looking up at him over the brim of the wooden cup. "Never seen an elf before, serah?"

He grinned lewdly at her and replied "Never seen one look so... feral before. The Aldmeri never wear um..." he gestured vaguely at her garb.

"Skins, they are called by some, young one. Or pelts. Furs even." She managed to say it mildly with just the right hint of reproof in her tone. He blushed and thrust his bundle at her, taking the cup from her out stretched hands.

"Lieutenant wants you to put these on." Laurelin heaved a sigh. Such an obvious ploy. As if making her change clothes would change her story. The boy in front of her continued, "he said I was to unchain you and allow you his tent to change. Put on some proper clothes."

Laurelin snorted scornfully, and untied the few leather laces keeping her primitive leggings and mantle wrapped around her, let them drop piece after piece until she stood naked and proud before the entire camp. "Spare me the false courtesies, all of you. I won't appreciate them."

Mouth agape, cheeks burning crimson, the lad turned away, fleeing with a wooden cup forgotten in one hand. He definitely needed to be far away from this proud, wild, very naked elf. He could feel her creepy white-blue eyes lashing over his back. Ducking slightly he fled faster. The whistles and jeers of the regiment followed his frantic steps.