A/N Alrighty then! Part 2! Thanks for the reviews! Except you three... You know who you are. Anywhore, the dragon translations are "Die mortals" and "Glory to Dragonkind" . So on with the show! R&R!..
"Oh sweet Talos..."
Akwardly pulling herself up, Falja narrowly dodged a blast of fire.
"Dir, Joorre!"
"Shut up, you freaky lizard thing!"
Falja stumbled as she ran, avoiding another stream of flames.
"Moro wah dov!"
"Elf! This way!"
Falja ran to Ralof who was waiting in a dungeon entrance with Ulfric. As soon as she got close they all ducked inside, the shouts and screams of the soon to be dead fading away.
"All right, first things first." Ralof raised his hands and brought them down roughly on the side of the wall, snapping the rope bindings. He then turned to Ulfric and untied his bonds and ungagged him.
"Ok, stick with the Wood Elf while I scout ahead for some weapons."
"Bosmer."
Ralof stopped in his tracks and turned back to Ulfric.
"Sorry, what?"
Ulfric sighed, annoyed.
"Bosmer, not Wood Elf. Go on then."
Ralof looked confused but continued ahead regardless. Falja, however was even more baffled as Ulfric worked to get her bondings undone.
"Nords... Usually dont call Elves by their proper Mer names. Thats... almost flattering!"
Ulfric snorted.
"To know one's enemy is to know their weaknesses." Finally her bondings came undone. "I owe you a thank you. Mer or not, you saved me back there."
"Hey, no problem."
Ralof ran in toting three daggers and tossed one to Ulfric and Falja.
"Eyes open. I'm guessing you'll be leaving us now, Ulfric?"
"Yes. If you live to see another day meet me in Windhelm. And as for you," Ulfric turned back to Falja. "Good luck, Elf."
With that, Ulfric ran back out into the frenzy outside.
"Elf? What happened to Mer? That's so! It doesn't! UGH!"
Falja kicked a wall, annoyed with life in general. Her first day in the land of her ancestors and she's sentenced to death, a dragon attacks, and she goes from the formality of being called Mer to the lowly grumble of Elf. Joy.
"Ulfric's an interesting man. Let's press forward."
It took twenty minutes to finally escape Helgen, but it felt like a lifetime. Then she had to run all the way to Riverwood, just to be told she needed to go to Whiterun and speak to the Jarl, Balgruuf. Ignoring the strong urge to chuckle immaturely at his absurd name, she pressed on.
After a three hour trek, the city gates were in sight. She sighed and continued on. Her mind was a mess. Just months ago she had become a woman by Bosmer tradition. She was the strongest warrior in her village, and her parents showered her with love and support.
And now they were dead.
Because of her.
Falja had just set foot in the gates when this thought crippled her. Taking in gasps of breath, she tried desperately to calm herself, not wanting to make a scene. She was already getting strange looks, no doubt because the people of Valenwood did not frequent Skyrim as often as the other peoples of Tamriel, but the mental breakdown she was about to have wasn't helping. She took a few more steps toward the great keep which was just in the distance, but the little voice in her head whispered:
'Your mother promised all three of you would go to Skyrim. Now they're dead because of you. And selfishly you came anyway.'
That was all she could handle. She didn't care who saw- Nord or Argonian- she broke down and sobbed, letting all her emotions flow forth. In the distance she heard a few heckles.
"This is why Elves don't belong here."
"What milk drinking baby."
"Stupid Elf whore, probably got raped on the way here and wants the Jarl to do something about it."
And last of all was a mumble of "Whelp."
This was the only insult that someone else responded to.
"Don't be so rude, she's obviously upset."
Falja heard a shuffle of armor as she continued to sob, and felt arms encircle her.
"Are you all right? What's wrong?"
Falja just shook her head and cried harder. Now the insults and shouts dwindled down to rumor filled whispers. The man holding her called out to his friend.
"Come on, we're taking her to the house. No sense leaving her out here."
His friend grumbled but agreed. Falja felt herself being tugged along, but the fact that someone cared was enough to keep her from fighting. She remembered a door being open and shut, and a cool liquid pouring down her throat. Then the darkness came.
When Falja woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was in a bed. At this, she relaxed, but then tensed up again when she noticed she was dressed only in her underclothes. Worst still was the set set of bright blue eyes staring down at her from across the room. But the final straw was the man pressed up against her back, holding her close.
Falja screamed and jumped out of bed, flailing her arms all over in an attempt to cover herself. As she backed away from the man in the bed, she bumped into the blue eyed man. Screaming again she faced him, backing away just to bump into the man from the bed who was now standing. She screamed yet again and faced him, just to realise he had the same piercing eyes as the other man.
Falja was about to let out another scream when the man behind her slapped his hands over her mouth.
"Calm down, love! I need you to stop screaming."
"Whelps always scream," grumbled the man holding her.
The other man rolled his eyes.
Falja jerked about, trying desperately to get loose from the man's grip.
"He'll let you go if you promise to stop yelling, ok?"
Falja nodded, still panicking, and as soon as she was released she opened her mouth and screached.
"Small. Loud."
Falja stopped screaming and couldn't supress her laughter. The man that was holding her was massively built, in full armor, and actually quite handsome.
But he was dumb as a box of rocks.
"Well put Farkas. You stick to the fighting, I'll stick to the talking, okay?"
The one named Farkas muttered angrily to himself, but stayed quiet. The other one stared pulling out plates of armor from a box beside the bed and began getting dressed.
"Wait, wait. There are some things I need to know. One: where am I? Two: how did I get here? Three: who are you? And four: what do you want from me?"
The other man was now fully dressed in elaborate steel armor from the waist down, and was in the process of tugging a chest piece over his head.
"One," he grunted as he pulled the piece on,"You're in Jorrvaskr in Whiterun hold in Skyrim. Two," he bent down to pull on heavy boots made also of steel, "I carried you here from by the shrine of Talos, where you were making quite a scene. Three and four," he pulled leather and steel gauntlets on, rolling his shoulders to get the armor to shift into place, "I'm Vilkas, that's my brother Farkas, and we don't want anything from you. We were just trying to help you."
"That still doesn't explain why I'm almost naked or why I was in bed with you!"
"Our shield-sister Aela undressed you, figured youd be more comfortable. As for me laying next to you. That was my bed, and you were shivering. Figured my body heat would keep you warm. Anyway, you mightvwant this. It's not much, but it's nicer than the rags you had on."
Vilkas tossed a green dress Falja's way, and waited for her to get dressed.
"I remember now," Falja muttered as she thought back to the night before, "I was on my way to see the Jarl when..." Falja sighed, too spent to start crying again. Things were going poorly enough already without her keeping the Jarl waiting.
"Thanks for everything. The new dress included. But I need to get going, the Jarl will be waiting for me." Falja started for the keep once again. She didn't dare turn around as she went upstairs and out of Jorrvaskr. She looked up at the keep as soon as she was outside, but stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of a loud sermon of sorts. By a statue of a large man holding a sword, a priest was rambling on and on about the glory of -
"Talos! For I LOVE YOU. Love, LOVE!"
"Umm, excuse me?" Falja muttered, walking up to the priest.
"Yes child? Have you come to hear Talos's word? And gain his GLORIOUS BLESSING?"
Falja was a bit put of by how boisterous the preacher was, but she wanted answers none the less.
"Uh, sure. About how long has this shrine been here?"
The priest scoffed, looking offended.
"How long? How long? As long as this very hold has been here! And long as the keep and the Skyforge! As long as Tamriel!"
"Soooo, say, as long as... My great great grandparents were around?"
"And their parents, and their parents, and their's too! FOR TALOS LOVES US ALL!"
"Ooookay then. That's all I needed to know..."
Falja walked past the priest to stand before the great statue of Talos. She smiled, running her fingers along the worn stone of the statue. To think, that this was the very place where her kin had met, the place responsible for her being alive. And in a way, then, the place responsible for her parent's deaths.
Sighing miserably, Falja reached up to touch her mother's Amulet of Talos for comfort, only to find that it was not there.
Panicking, Falja lifted her dress, searching the ground for it. Her mind raced as she tried to think where it could've been. There was a chance she left it in Jorrvaskr, or that she dropped it somewhere on the way from Riverwood, or even...
And then it dawned on her:
Helgen.
Falja moaned as she remembered that the guards at Helgen stripped her of everything before the execution. And with Talos worship being outlawed, there was no way they wouldn't have removed her amulet.
"Something wrong?"
Falja whipped around, annoyed as all get out as she realised Vilkas had followed her the entire time.
"What do you want?"
Vilkas shifted his weight
and crossed his arms, his distaste for Falja's rudeness made all the more evident by the look on his face.
"I thought you could use an escort."
"I can handle myself, thank you!"
"Oh, is that so, Elf?"
Falja had started walking away, but stopped dead in her tracks at being called 'Elf' in such a way. She spun on her heel, marched unceremoniously up to Vilkas, and slapped him across the face.
"You're lucky you're cute," she snapped.
Vilkas's face switched from pissed to surprised.
"Oh am I now?"
"Don't push your luck, if I had a bow I'd knock your ass out right about now."
Falja marched up the stairs to the keep with Vilkas close behind. Again she was reminded how uncommon her kind were, as the guards stared at her, confused. Once she was in the keep, she made her way up to the Jarl, but not before being stopped by a rather pissed Dark Elf.
"It is considered rude to keep a jarl waiting for more than a few minutes, much less a whole day. You'd better hope what you have to say is important, or I'll cut you down."
Balgruuf cleared his throat from upon his throne.
"Now Irileth, there's no need to be rude," He turned to Falja, "However it was rather improper to keep me waiting. What kept you?"
Before Falja even had the chance to babble like an idiot, Vilkas spoke up.
"Lord Balgruuf, if I may? I observed last night that the girl in question was in no state of mind to grace your highness with her presence."
"Hmm. Vilkas is it? No fit state of mind you say? Is that so?"
"Yes my Jarl."
"Then as your word as a Companion I am inclined to believe you. What, however, is your purpose in coming to the keep?"
Vilkas smirked.
"It seemed to me the girl was in need of an escort."
The Jarl sat back in his throne, relaxed as Falja shot Vilkas a dirty glare.
"In that case, you have fufilled your purpose and may leave."
Vilkas nodded a silent goodbye to Falja, then turned and left the keep, no doubt on his way back to Jorrvaskr.
"Now back you, Elf," Balgruuf sneared, obviously impatient to be done with her. "What news have you brought to Whiterun that is so important you had to bother me in my keep?"
Falja gathered herself to tell the story she had recited in her head a dozen times since leaving Riverwood.
"My Jarl, I was in Helgen but a day ago, destined for the block when the village was attacked. As impossible as it may seem, a dragon attacked Helgen. Last we saw it appeared to be headed towards Riverwood and here in Whiterun. Riverwood has no guards to protect its people, Lord Balgruuf. Please, if you could send some men there to help I'm sure they'd be willing to compensate you in some wa-"
"Now you wait just a minute!" Irileth snapped. "Not a moment ago you admitted to being sentenced to death, and you expect us to believe that the dragons have returned? Are you crazy?"
"Irileth, please," Balgruuf sighed, "Let us hear her out."
"No!" Irileth unsheathed her sword and readied herself to kill Falja. "For all we know she could be a theif! Here to gain your favor in order to get rich and become untouchable!"
Before Falja could even get out her dagger, the door to the keep slammed open.
"Lord Balgruuf!" the guard cried. "Please, quick! The Western Watchtower has been attacked!"
"By what?" Irileth cried, lowering her sword.
"A dragon!"
"What?"
"Irileth!" Balgruuf cried, standing from his throne. "Gather the guards and head towards the tower. See to it that whatever attacked the tower is killed!"
"Yes my Jarl!"
"And you," Balgruuf said, turning to Falja as Irileth and the keep guards ran out into Whiterun, "You go with them. Prove to me that you are trustworthy."
With that, he unsheathed his own steel sword, and tossed it to Falja.
"Thank you my Jarl."
Falja gunned it for the door and sprinted as hard as her legs would allow in order to catch up to Irileth. As soon as the doors to Whiterun opened, Falja could smell it: the stench of burned flesh and gored bodies. She tried to mask the smell by pulling her dress up over her nose, but it was no use. The scent had already fully permeated the air.
As they approached the tower it became obvious that no theives or bandits could've been responsible for the carnage before them.
Irileth sighed at the sight of so many wasted lives.
"Well, spread out, men. Search for any survivors or salvageable items. As for you," she snapped, turning her annoyance to Falja.
"Go through the tower and search for survivors. See if there's any clues to who may have done this. This is probably the work of some Orc lowlives looking for glory in name of Malacath."
Falja went about her assignment, but did so unhappily. If Irileth honestly didn't believe a dragon was to blame for the destruction, she would've had to be out of her mind. It was much more likely that Irileth's pride was blurring her ability to see the truth of the matter.
The dragons were back.
As Falja reached the highest point in the tower, she felt an awful sense of foreboding settle in her gut. If a dragon had indeed attacked the tower, why did it leave? Why not finish the job and attack Whiterun? Unless the dragon knew that someone would have to investigate the attacksite, and that that someone would be half the guards of the hold...
Falja's eyes widened as she realise what was going on. Of course the dragon wouldn't attack Whiterun first, the evidence was in the first attack. Its goal would be to cripple the guard forces by attacking the Watchtower. And by waiting to attack the main city the guards would be drawn out to see what happened and would in turn all be in one place yet again.
As soon as Falja reached a break in the stone wall she screamed out.
"GUYS IT'S A TRAP! RUN!"
"YOL TOOR SHUL!"
"NO!"
Falja felt sick as the dragon breathed fire down on the guards, killing three in one breath. Irileth could be heard shouting orders even from atop the tower.
"Keep fighting, men! Don't back down now!"
"No, damnit! Run!"
The shouts of a man being slashed to death could be heard, followed by two more being sent to Sovngarde.
"Damnit!"
Falja paced back and forth desperated for a solution. Then her foot met flesh.
On the stairs of the tower, dead from being slashed to bits, was a guard armed with a bow. In his quiver were three steel arrows.
Falja knew what she had to do. Taking a deep breath she grabbed the bow and the arrows and made her way back down the tower.
The pitter patter of dainty feet. The stretch of a bow.
Falja gasped as she stood before the dragon, its size almost paralyzing. She raised her bow and called on all the courage she had as the dragon rurned to face her, its maw open as it prepared another shout. Falja closed her eyes and turned away.
"Talos guide me."
The twang of its release...
"YOL TOOR-"
And the blood curling sound of three arrows making their mark-bullseye.
Falja sighed in relief as the dragon fell, dead.
Irileth and the three guards who were still alive all rose and began to check their injuries, all shocked and rather annoyed that the Elf girl single handedly took down the dragon.
Falja waked over to the fallen beast and knelt beside it. Though it was indeed a massive and murderous creature, there was something eerily beautiful about it to Falja. Then, out of no where, she felt herself overcome with an almost euphoric feeling that stretched across every inch of her body. Then it died away, only to be replaced with a feeling of power. In the back of her mind, she could hear the fallen dragon speaking to her.
"Feel the power of the Dov in your very soul, joor. 'Fus' force. Feel within you the power only granted to nature and the Dov. The ability to push back the world around you. May you use it well, as you have earned it well."
Falja stood, shocked to see that the dragon corpse that lay before her was now nothing but bone and scale. Stepping away from it, she felt the word soaring inside her, its power swelling to a crescendo until she could no longer help it.
"FUS!"
Falja gasped, covering her mouth as the skeleton of the dragon was forced back over the hill, tucked out of sight. Hands still clasped over her mouth, she turned to face Irileth and the guards who were all gawking at her.
"No...It can't be!" Irileth gasped. "You're the Dragonborn!"