(AN: Yay, just one chapter and already a review! Thank you, Cyrus. I'll be sure to put action in this chapter, maybe someone will lose a limb [lol])
(Thank you for the suggestion, but I have a name already: Eirik, after the hero from the Faroese ballad "Fipan Fagra", which is also the name of my Dragonborn in Skyrim.)
(With that blessing, I know this story is going to end well.)
Thieves Guild
The tall Nord seemed to not be very talkative, but took in the sights and smells of Riften with quiet interest. The woman at his side, however, was exactly the opposite. She seemed to always have something to say. From the moment they left the young Cyrodilian at his house by the north gate, the Nord woman, whose name was Mjoll, continued along the way to the Bee and Barb inn about everything in their path. She talked about the alleys where she had faced off against members of the Thieves Guild. If they passed any by on their way through the streets, she would regale the tall Nord with the tales of how she had helped them out in times of need.
As they walked on, another Nord man appeared from out of the shadows. He was clad in steel armor and had a mean look upon his face. He stood in front of the silent Nord and glared at him.
"New in town?" he asked. "If you'd like my advice, you'll keep your nose out of trouble."
"Leave him alone, Maul," Mjoll interjected. "We're on our way to the inn."
"What's the matter, stranger, can't talk?" the Nord called Maul mocked. "Or maybe you haven't got the balls to speak to a true Nord, letting this woman speak for you. I didn't take you for a milk-drinker, what with that fine armor and..."
In one quick moment, the Nord had seized Maul's head and slammed him into one of the wooden pillars of a nearby house. The wood cracked, and Maul was flailing against the iron grip of the Nord's hand, who dropped him onto the ground.
"Think you're tough, huh?" remarked Maul. "But you're hardly clever."
The Nord was suddenly pushed over on top of Maul, and a figure went running down the street away from where they were fighting. Mjoll shouted after him, but no one moved to stop him. Turning to see what had happened, the Nord reached to his belt and found that his purse was missing. He pushed himself back onto his feet and set out running after the thief. Through crowded streets they went, all the while the sight of a golden-haired youth in ratty dark green kept in the Nord's mind as his target.
"Down, stranger!" a voice called out from behind.
The Nord turned and saw the woman Mjoll with a piece of wood about one cubit in length, which she threw at the thief. He was downed in one hit, but did not stay down long. But that blow was enough. The Nord had chased the thief down and hauled him up to his knees.
"Give it back to me," he said to the thief.
"Go to hell!" the thief returned, spitting in the Nord's face.
A huge fist from the Nord struck the thief in the nose, shattering it, then pulled out of the thief's belt a dagger. He stuck it through his shirt and pinned him up against the wall of a large structure made of wooden logs, hanging him there like a piece of meat to be dried.
"I can make this worse if you don't cooperate," the Nord threatened.
"It's no use," Mjoll's voice replied. She had come from behind and had the wood length in her hand, which she then pointed at the thief's right hand. Upon it was tattooed a black diamond shape with a circle within the middle. "The mark of the Thieves Guild: he's not just a common cut-purse, he's one of them."
The Nord turned back to the thief, then saw that his right hand was curled about the prize he sought. Stepping back, he drew out his great-sword and hacked the thief's hand off at the wrist. The hand fell to the ground, where the Nord bent down and returned his purse to its belt.
"Thank you," he said to the thief with a smile.
"You think this is over?" the thief shouted. "Maven Black-Briar will hear about this, yes she will! I'll see you rot in Riften jail before First Seed! That's a promise, you bastard!"
The two Nords turned their backs on the raving thief and continued on their way.
"You know," Mjoll said. "I normally wouldn't approve of such violence, but he's one of the Thieves Guild. They're the worst kind of rabble."
"What makes you say that?" the Nord asked.
"Even the fabled Dark Brotherhood abides by a strict set of rules and traditions, or so the legends said," Mjoll continued. "The Thieves Guild, bah! They're just rabble. To call it a guild is ridiculous: how can people who would betray one another over gold be considered part of an association?" She looked over at the Nord, who did not seem to be paying attention. "What do you think?"
"Hmm?" he replied. "Oh, yes. I agree. Honor means quite a bit to me, and these thieves seem wholly without honor." Mjoll chuckled. "What is it?"
"You know, I'm beginning to respect you," she replied. "Other than Aerin, you seem to be the only other person I've met I might be able to trust. Since we share the same opinion of them, let me warn you to be cautious. That thief wasn't jesting when he threatened to put you in jail."
"I've been in worse situations than a simple prison," the Nord said. "Did you hear about Helgen?"
"Not particularly," Mjoll replied.
"It was attacked by a dragon," the Nord replied. "Burned the town to the ground. I was one of the survivors."
"A dragon?" Mjoll exclaimed. "By the Divines, how could this happen!"
"You worship the Divines as well?" the Nord asked.
"Aye," Mjoll nodded.
"What about Talos?" he asked.
"I worship Mara," the Nord woman replied. "I always have since I was young, but I have nothing against those who choose other Divines to worship." They then came to a halt before the tall wooden structure near the center of town. It was two stories high and had a hanging sign with a tiny golden bee perched on a black fishing hook over the door.
"Well," Mjoll sighed. "Here we are, the Bee and Bard. Best inn in Riften."
"Aye," the Nord nodded. "Thank you for helping me with that thief."
"Surely, I would do anything to foil the plans of the Thieves Guild," Mjoll laughed.
"Well, Divines bless you," the Nord nodded.
"Just a moment, friend," Mjoll interjected. "I'm going in as well. I usually eat lunch at the inn. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, if you're not busy."
"I would like that," the Nord returned.
"Good," Mjoll said. "Now, uh, what did you say your name was, friend?"
"I didn't," he replied stoically.
"Yes, I recall," she nodded. "Even so, I would like to know your name."
"Eirik," he replied.
Inside, the Bee and Barb was dark and stuffy. A few men were milling about, sharing secret business over their tankards, but paid the newcomers no heed. Mjoll brought Eirik up to the counter and ordered two flagons of mead from the Argonian behind the counter. The reptilian woman seemed grim, though Eirik noticed a hammer-shaped amulet sitting upon her scaly neck.
"Hail Ysmir," Eirik said to the Argonian.
"Aye," she replied, her red eyes not moving from the counter.
Mjoll called Eirik over to her spot at the inn. Her spot was a table that sat against the wall opposite the counter. From here, with one seated at each of the two chairs at this table, one could see what was going on at both entrances to the inn.
"So, friend, what brings you to Riften?" Mjoll began. "Visitors like us are rare in this part of Skyrim."
"You're not from Riften?" Eirik asked.
"I've been adventuring across Tamriel since I was a fresh-faced young woman barely able to swing a blade," Mjoll replied. "My travels have taken me from Highrock to Valenwood, Elsweyr, Morrowind and all points in between."
"Why are you here, then?" Eirik continued.
Mjoll sighed, brushing her hand over the three scratch-marks on her face. "Many years ago, I lost my blade Grimsever within a Dwemer ruin. I took it as a sign that I was wasting my days in search of wealth." She looked up at Eirik.
"We're not so different, you and I. We both see eye to eye on the blight of the Thieves Guild and, from your stance, I can tell that you are a warrior, one who is always seeking great challenge. But, for me, that's where those similarities end. You see, Riften is my great beast to be slain. And while your fortune may lie in a few septims easily taken by any cut-purse, mine comes from gratitude at helping others and trust."
At that moment, the Argonian land-lady arrived at their table with their food: warm bread, cold cheese, hot soups, salted meats and mead. They ate, but Mjoll noticed that Eirik ate swiftly and hungrily, as though he had gone for many days without food.
"Mjoll?"
"Aye?"
"You seem to speak of Riften," Eirik began, tearing a hunk of bread for himself. "As though you are its protector."
"It's been quite difficult," Mjoll said. "I've taken the burdens of this city's problems upon myself and keep running into impossible obstacles: corruption, lies and deceit are the order of the day here. If it wasn't for Aerin, I think I would have given up long ago..." She paused, a smile upon her face. "Speak of a dragon and he appears!"
Eirik turned about and saw the small-framed Cyrodilian making his way into the inn. He greeted Eirik and was introduced formally by Mjoll. Upon seeing that his seat was taken, he started to leave, but Mjoll insisted that he join them and asked the land-lady Kee-Rava if they could pull up a third chair at their table for Aerin. The Argonian agreed and now the two had become three.
"A tankard of mead, Kee-Rava!" the Cyrodilian called out. "And make it the good stuff, none of that overrated Black-Briar sewage!"
Several of the tenants barked at Aerin, but quieted when they saw Mjoll and the strong-armed Eirik nearby.
"New in town, eh?" Aerin said, turning to Eirik. "Word of warning, stay clear of the Thieves Guild. They're run by the Black-Briar family, they've got this whole city in their pocket."
"Who is the Black-Briar family?" Eirik asked.
"Maven Black-Briar, the matriarch of the family, represents everything that's wrong with this city," Mjoll began. Nearby, Eirik saw Aerin sigh and roll his eyes fondly, as though he had heard this story many times over. "She's bribed countless officials and freely associates with the Thieves Guild. Of course, no one can dare touch her because she has friends back in the Imperial City. I've tried everything I can to protect the citizens of Riften from her and her family, but to no avail!" She smote the table with her fist, upsetting the food and spilling some of the mead from the tankards. With a frustrated groan, she buried her face in her hand.
"I've never seen Mjoll this upset before," Aerin whispered to Eirik. "This city really gets to her." She playfully hit him on the shoulder to keep him from talking on.
"Who else is in the family?" Eirik asked once Mjoll had regained her composure.
"Well," Mjoll began again. "There's Ingun, Maven's daughter. Strange girl, spends all her time in Elgrim's Elixirs, brewing who knows what. Then there's Hemming, Maven's heir: spoiled rotten brat, he follows her word like a dog to its master. The last is Sibbi, the worst of them all: he's in the Riften jail for murder, but I think that's less than what he deserves."
"Come on, let's talk of happier things!" Aerin said, patting Mjoll's shoulder firmly. "I mean, you've always talked about all the places you've gone to. Maybe one day I'll get to see those, too." He then turned to the Nord. "How about you, friend? Where have you been?"
"I'm native to Falkreath," Eirik replied. "Never left Skyrim until about three months ago." He then turned to Mjoll. "You mentioned that Aerin saved your life, just a moment ago."
"Oh, gods, here we go again," Aerin said, rolling his eyes.
"He's modest," Mjoll said.
"I didn't do anything special," the Cyrodilian interjected. "Anyone would have done the same thing."
"But it wasn't anyone who found me outside of that ruin, was it, Aerin?" Mjoll continued. "It was you. You brought me here and nursed me back to health, you saved my life."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Aerin blushed. "You're a strong woman yourself, I think you could have survived."
"I don't think I could have," the woman said, smiling at Aerin and gently punching his shoulder. She then turned to Eirik. "When my strength returned and he told me about Riften's problems, I thought to myself: 'Fate brought me here for a reason.' So, I decided to stay and help the people of Riften."
"And not a day goes by that I'm not grateful to have you here," Aerin said, beaming at his companion. He then turned to Eirik. "So, will you be staying in Riften for long?"
"Not very long," he replied. "I have business here."
"So you said," Aerin sighed, then exclaimed as he saw his food brought before him. While he dug in, Mjoll turned to Eirik.
"Now, why don't you share with me the stories of your adventures?" she asked.
"Like what?" he replied.
"I don't know, anything," she continued. "I've told you almost all of my life's story, I want to hear what happened with you and the dragon in Helgen."
"Well..."
(AN: And that is where we'll cut it for now.)
(Following in the style of an epic, we retell a bit of the story in a kind of "flashback", though obviously it wouldn't be a flashback in the epic tales, it would be told in verse/prose. Still, this is going to be epic.)
(I tried to follow Mjoll's quotes almost exactly, but some were difficult. Also, she's going to be doing a lot more talking [obviously], but hopefully you will get to see why. I'm also broadening her back-story, but we won't get to that just yet. And I tried to make Aerin a little less annoying. Do give your opinion on how far I've done. Next three or so chapters will be Eirik's back-story, and we'll have more action [if a brawl with Maul and hacking off a thief's hand aren't enough for you])
