Chapter 2:
Aan Veysun Nau Faal Okaaz
"A Ship at Sea"
Bjorn pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The Hall of Elements shimmered with magicka. Bjorn took a moment to take in his surroundings. The Hall was a large rotunda with great stone buttresses supporting the ceiling, with a large central basin emanating a strong magic presence. Surrounding the basin stood six people. The two most powerful figures, which were obvious by their stature, were Archmage Mirabelle Ervine and the Thalmor ambassador, a woman surprisingly. Bjorn's Nord mindset made his fists clench at the sight of the oppressive High Elf. Just because Bjorn followed the Empire did not mean he had to agree with the Thalmor.
Bjorn analyzed the others. The first to catch his eye was a large orc with a menacing warhammer slung over his back. His stark black hair was tied in a battle-ready ponytail, and his Orcish armor gave him an intimidating persona. He eyed Bjorn threateningly before turning back to Ervine. The next in line was a Dark Elf. Bjorn was more lenient to the Dunmer, but he was still an elf, which made Bjorn wary. The dark-skinned elf had cropped auburn hair, styled just right so the hair wouldn't fall into his face. He wore a standard hunting bow and a quiver full of arrows, so Bjorn rationalized that he would be the team's hunter. Following the Dark Elf was a feeble looking Redguard dressed in common mage robes. He looked skittish, therefore Bjorn assumed he was only accepted for some useful skill in magic. Lastly, Bjorn's eyes fell upon a woman. A stunning brunette Imperial waiting patiently for Ervine's lecture. Bjorn immediately felt some kind of attraction, however he retained his gruff persona. Besides, why would some like himself with horrible social skills be able to love?
The Thalmor tapped her foot impatiently and Archmage Ervine called out, "Ah! You must be Bjorn. The sellsword? You're just in time, if not a little late." Bjorn took his place in the group next to the Dark Elf. He moved a little to make room, but offered no other greeting. The Archmage cleared her throat. "Gentleman, and lady, you five have all been accepted to partake in one of the greatest scientific expeditions of this era," she drew her gaze over the group, "By request of the College, and with Imperial-Thalmor funding, we have gotten the opportunity to have a team, you all, travel to the distant continent of Atmora, the ancient Nord homeland."
Bjorn rolled his eyes. He knew all of this already, but he assumed it was necessary for the others. Mirabelle gestured towards the Thalmor woman, "Ms. Orendali Highbourne of the Embassy will explain the rest. Warriors, mages, good luck on your journey, and you have my blessings."
Mirabelle left the Hall leaving the group faced by a stuck-up Thalmor. She eyed them all, disgusted. Regardless, she began to speak in her professional voice. "As Archmage Ervine introduced, I am Orendali Highbourne, ambassador from the Thalmor Embassy. I have funded this little expedition of ours, therefore I will be joining you," a slight smile appeared on her face, "the objective of this expedition is to sail across the Sea of Ghosts to Atmora to find the Great Library at Jylkurfyk. Afterwards, we will gather useful information and head inland to find the ancient capital of Atmora. From there, we will take any artifacts of interest back with us to the College to be studied. Does everyone understand?"
The group stayed silent for a moment. The Dark Elf stepped forward. "Well what in the name of Azura are we standin' around for?" Bjorn smiled lightly. For an elf, this guy was alright.
Clambering down the cliff face to the boat was no easy task, but the group eventually stumbled down to the boat. The "Ice Wraith" was a moderately sized frigate, able to hold the expedition team, their gear, and a formidable crew to conquer the Sea of Ghosts. The snow relented long enough for the boat to leave Winterhold, and the Ice Wraith set out on its journey.
The ice split in front of the boat, making sickening cracks that made the Redguard wince. Bjorn stayed at the front, gazing out into the unforseen. Beyond these terrible waters was his ancient home, the place he was destined to go. The scenery, however, was uninteresting, and in an effort to entertain himself, Bjorn his perch to meet the crew. He anticipated that he'd be traveling with them for a while, so he might as well get to know them. The first teammate he approached was the Dark Elf, who sat on a bench by the mast readying his bow and sharpening his arrows. Bjorn leaned against the mast and attempted to engage in conversation, "So... what's a Dark Elf like you doing on a voyage to Atmora?"
The elf turned to face him, his face cold as the sea breeze, emotionless. He spoke in his stereotypical Dunmer tone, "I'm here because you people need me. You all need to eat, and I got the skills needed to make sure you do."
"I see... well, I appreciate your contribution to the team."
"You mocking me, Nord?" he replied sternly.
"Absolutely not. And I'm not 'Nord'. The names Bjorn. Bjorn Frosthammer."
The elf's eyes widened slightly, "Oh. I've heard about you and your family, Bjorn. Very famous people, indeed. No way you're just a hired sword. But I don't care anyway. My name is Drenyir Yamarith, expert hunter."
"The pleasure is mine, Drenyir. You sure you won't mind the cold?"
Drenyir merely chuckled, the first sign of positive emotion. He rested his bow aside to adjust his posture. "Of course it won't bother me," he scoffed, "I was born in Solstheim. You know, little island north of Morrowind. Cold as ice there. I'm used to it."
This time it was Bjorn's turn to act surprised, "Solstheim, huh? Isn't that-"
"The place of the werewolf invasion a couple hundred years ago? Yeah, it is. Nerevar saved us from that, too. Unfortunately, werewolves killed my family regardless when I was 17. That's how I learned to hunt. Had to start feeding myself, you know?"
"I have heard of it. Where are you from?"
"A little colony named Ravenrock. Not the nicest place."
"I wouldn't know. I grew up in Solitude. I had waiters serving me dinner."
Both Drenyir and Bjorn laughed. After Drenyir's laugh settled, he spoke in a lighter tone, "You know, you're alright Nord. Or... Bjorn, was it? I've got to finish my arrows, so I'll see you around." Bjorn shook his hand and left with a smile, content at the success of his conversation. Next to talk with was the Redguard, who was puking his guts out over the side of the ship. Bjorn approached him, careful not to make him leap over the rail. "You alright there, Redguard?"
The Redguard finished heaving and stood erect. "Uh... absolutely. Nothing wrong here," he wheezed, "I'm... uh... Vallund Remis. Conjuror at the College."
Bjorn reached forward and shook his hand, "Nice to meet you Vallund. I'm Bjorn. Bjorn Frosthammer." Vallund had the same reaction Drenyir did, continuing to shake his hand as if he was meeting a celebrity. After letting go of Bjorn's hand, Vallund just shrugged, "Not much to say... I was born in Markarth.. never saw the sands of my homeland. But as soon as my parents discovered my skill with magic, they shipped me off to the College. I haven't talked to them since."
"I'm sorry. Do you think about them?"
"Yeah, sometimes. But I enjoy my studies. I still can't get over the cold. Is it getting colder?"
Bjorn chuckled, "Yes, it is. You better grab your furs. Atmora will be frigid." Vallund's face drained of color. "Colder..?" he sputtered, before turning to vomit again. Bjorn wished him luck with his seasickness, and walked inside the ship.
The interior of the ship was significantly warmer. Bjorn removed his fur coat and proceeded to the mess hall. Bjorn was surprised. All the stereotypes he'd heard about traveling by ship were false. At least on the Wraith. Thick Slaughterfish steaks and vegetable stew were being served today, with almost every drink imaginable at the bar. Bjorn strolled into the mess, impressed at the size of the room. There were various crew members scattered around, but the one who caught his eye was the Orc from earlier. He sat silently in a secluded corner, eyeing the room cautiously. Bjorn approached him, trying to retain some sort of tough demeanor. "So... why are you here Orc?"
The Orc turned to him, "Look Nord, I don't care who you are, or why you're here. All you need to know is that my name is Gharza gro-Lorgan, and my hammer, Bloodcleave, can crush a Giant's head like a Jazibay grape. So in the future? Stay out of my way."
Bjorn stepped away from the table. "Fine. And in the future? I can handle myself." Gharza gro-Lorgan's cold gaze followed him as he crossed the hall. Lastly, Bjorn approached the Imperial woman, who was pouring over books about Atmora and the legends of Ysgrammor. Bjorn sat across from her and tried to sound polite, "You know, I know all of those legends by heart." The Imperial looked up from her books and smiled warmly. "Do you, now?"
"Absolutely. I read them all as a child." Bjorn gloated.
The Imperial laughed quietly, "well, I guess it's good to have someone else with an education on this ship. I'm Mariah Valentino, adept mage at the College. I can burn your skin away, and then make it all better."
"So... a battlemage and a healer? Thats an impressive combination. I'm Bjorn, by the way. Bjorn Frosthammer."
To much of Bjorn's confusion, Mariah did not seem to be surprised at this information. "Oh, I know who you are," she chortled, "and everyone else should. You're family is second only to the Black-Briar's here in Skyrim. I also knew you weren't just a sellsword. Your knowledge of these texts proves my assumptions." Bjorn's face flushed a little red, embarrassed that this woman basically figured him out at a glance back in the Hall of Elements.
"So what's your story, Mariah?"
"Well, I was born and raised in Ivarstead, until I was 14. That's when my parent's realized my potential in magic and sent me to the College. I haven't spoken to them in... Gods, 9 years? They never answered my letters... I'm almost worried."
"I'm sure they're fine, Mariah. They must've known you'd be busy practicing with flames. And then fixing all the damage." A smile flashed on Bjorn's face, which made Mariah smile lightly as well. "It's been a wonderful talk, Bjorn," she said, starting to reorganize her texts, "but I need to read these before we reach Jylkurfyk. Even if you already know them."
Bjorn left Mariah to her books and exited the mess hall. He spent the rest of the afternoon back at his perch, watching the ice crack and the mist part at the ship's approach. His coat, his Nord blood, and his bottle of mead kept him cool, even as night set in. As the crew scurried around the deck lighting torches and making adjustments to the sails, Bjorn kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, imagining seeing snow-capped mountains and wave-battered shores of Atmora. He smiled to himself. He was almost there. When fatigue crept up on him, he turned to walk to his cabin. At the door to the cabins, he was stopped by the Thalmor, Orendali Highbourne. She eyed him angrily from under her hood.
"Off to bed then, Bjorn?" she asked, her tone noting the lack of attention.
"Yes, Orendali, I'm-"
Orendali's eyes snapped open and blazed with intense hatred, "Look, you sniveling Nord. I am a High Elf of the Thalmor Embassy! You will treat me with respect and address me as Ms. Highbourne or 'Your Most Esteemed'. Do you understand me, Nord?"
Bjorn's eyes narrowed in anger, "Yes, you're most esteemed Lady Highbourne, I'm going to bed."
"I'm glad we got that sorted. I honestly don't care what you do tomorrow, but I'm sure you need your rest. And next time you see her, tell Ms. Valentino she received a letter just before we shipped out. Have a nice rest, Bjorn."
Bjorn walked into his room and slammed the door. What an ungrateful, evil-blooded elf! He thought to himself. His mind raced through multiple scenarios of how the next few days on the ship would work out, but when his head hit the pillow, Bjorn fell fast asleep. The rocking of the boat and the sound of cracking ice did nothing to hinder his sleep, but dreams of Orendali Highbourne's blazing eyes keep him tossing and turning throughout the night.
