The grand city rose like a mountain in the distance. Strategically, the city was in an excellent defensive position and aesthetically it was as imposing as it was grandiose.
The farmers, with their windmills and extensive gardens, gave Kiir wary glances as she passed. One woman herded her children quickly into the house when she saw who was coming up the path.
Even the guards outside the city gates seemed awfully anxious as she approached, readjusting their grip on their weapons and tightening their stances.
Whiterun had thick stone walls that encircled it with one entrance that was only accessible over a drawbridge. It was a type of design Kiir had never seen outside of the drawings in select history books back on the Isles.
She ran her hands along the huge wooden doors as she entered the city, far more advanced than the ones in the keep, and admired the work they'd must've taken to construct, but quickly removed them when she saw one of the guards cast an unpleasant gaze her way.
She travelled up the cobbled path, unsure of what she hoped to find. The city was medieval; merchants lined the streets and children ran about like wild creatures. Men dressed in full armor milled about with others who wore nothing but rags. Kiir was unpleasantly surprised to find the streets had no rules to them; people pushed and prodded their way through... sometimes with 3 or 4 baskets full of vegetables and cuts of meat."
A hand fell upon Kiir's shoulder. "That dress looks a little small for you, dear."
Kiir jumped. She hadn't noticed the female Orc in the crowded marketplace. The woman seemed unthreatening but her shaved head and her...teeth made Kiir more than a little uneasy. She opened her mouth to speak but she found herself at a loss.
The orc raised an eyebrow. "Does the elf speak?"
Kiir nodded.
"Good good. That's progress. Now," the Orc took a step forward and tugged at the fabric of Kiir's dress, "I've been in Skyrim for a while, but I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing one of your kind tip-toeing around in pinchingly small boots and what looks like a Brenton's hand-me-down's." She released her grip and grinned.
Kiir weakly returned the smile. The Orc's friendly attitude was worrying. Everyone before her had treated Kiir like a caged animal, keeping a close eye on her. This woman, it seemed, had not even once considered Kiir to be a threat.
"Is there a reason you look like a Riften Orphanage charity case?"
"I don't know what happened to my old clothes..." Kiir started.
"Had one to many the other night, huh?"
Kiir stared. "One too many what?"
The Orc's expression changed. She reached up to Kiir's head and tilted it so she could see. "Did someone give you something?"
The woman's tone made Kiir backpedal, realizing what her words sounded like. "No, no. There was a dragon-"
"A dragon?" The Orc stepped back from Kiir and eyed her for a moment before lowering her voice. "Are you on skooma?"
Kiir blinked. She had no idea what this woman was on about but she knew she didn't like where it seemed this conversation was going. "I don't know-"
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Kiir'Dun?" Kiir stated cautiously, starting to fidget.
"No."
"Yes?"
"No. Are you sure you aren't on something? Did you take any food or drink from strangers? Or did Farkas put you up to this?"
"No, I haven't even- Who?"
The Orc woman held up a hand. "If you're not on skooma, or anything else, that means you willingly put on that child's size atrocity. You look like a lost whelp; a very tall, gangly whelp." She paused again. "I'm Romanda."
Kiir still had no idea what skooma was and 'whelp' was a word she recognized but couldn't quite put her finger on. "It's... nice to meet you, Romanda."
Romanda's hand tugged at her sleeve again. "So where where exactly did you find this?"
"A woman in Riverwood. I'm trying to get to the College."
A laugh rumbled from deep in Romanda's throat. "Well if that's where you're headed, you could definitely use a hand. And a weapon. At least some decent some clothes or better, armor."
"Are there shops anywhere?"
Romanda shook her head and reached for Kiir's hand. "Come on, follow me."
The Orc's grip was strong and even if Kiir wanted she wouldn't have been able to tug her hand free. By the time they'd reached where Romanda was taking them Kiir's fingers had gone nearly numb.
"Farkas?"
Kiir gazed up at the building they'd stopped at. There was an entire ship's hull upside down as the roof. What in the world were the Nords thinking? Had the ship been made specifically for that reason, or was an actual ship repurposed to act as a roof? The Nords weren't magically inclined either, so how had they gotten it up there?
"Hey, Elf."
The wood seemed surprisingly well kept; did people actually get up there and polish it? There didn't seem to be any magic involved in the preservation so someone had to get up there with a brush or something.
"Hey!"
Kiir jumped and realized Romanda had returned with a particularly rough looking man. She pointed to the building behind them. "That's a boat?"
The man looked towards Romanda. "Are you sure it's not skooma?"
Romanda whapped his arm and turned towards Kiir. "There's a guy who works up on that forge who can get you into something a little more... fitting."
"Are you sure she can wear it?" The man added. "She looks like if she sat down too fast she'd break a leg."
"I've never broken a bone." Kiir responded quickly.
The man huffed and started to walk behind the boat-building, waving her along. "I'll bet."
Kiir followed and Romanda fell into stride beside her. "Farkas is an ass, but you'll get used to it. He's really sweet once you get to know him."
"I'll bet."
A quirky smile fell onto the Orc's lips.
Stone stairs led to an upper platform that held a large forge and an older looking man who wore nothing but fur pelts and some thick leather straps over his chest. He was sweaty and dirty and looked as though he hadn't washed his hair in a few months.
Kiir has never seen a man so poorly dressed.
"Eorlund," Farkas said as they approached.
"I'm busy, boy."
Kiir squinted in the man's direction. Did he have cotton in his mouth?
"Well, I've got some work for you."
Eorlund looked up from the forge and his gaze stopped when it got to Kiir. His eyes narrowed and he looked her up and down. "What's this."
Romanda put a large hand on Kiir's shoulder. "Someone in desperate need of a new outfit." She grinned. "Damn girl must've travelled all the way here like this."
Eorlund looked at Romanda, then at Farkas before his gaze traveled back to Kiir. He stepped forward and grabbed Kiir's hand, pulling it forward and inspecting her arm. "I think anything we have now will be much too large for her. She's barely got anything to her."
"I'm surprised she even survived the trip." Farkas added.
Kiir was nodding along, even though half of the words coming from Eorlund's mouth sounded like mumbling grunts. She wished he'd speak slower.
"Speaking of that, how did you manage to get here without so much as a scratch?" Romanda had stepped back and crossed her arms.
Kiir shrugged. "Illusion magic, mostly."
"Just Illusion magic? No fireballs?"
"I only know a few Destruction spells. One, really." Kiir held up her hands. "The Dominion forbids it outside of Thalmor officials and recruits. We learn most of the other schools of magic though."
Romanda scoffed. "Sounds just like those slimy bastards."
Kiir frowned. "No, no. It's not like that. We don't really have a need for it. Healing magic is a lot more useful than fire or frost spells."
"Then how do you protect yourselves?"
Kiir turned to look at Farkas. "The guards do that for us. And there's not a lot to protect against. Most of the wildlife stays out of the cities and well-travelled paths."
Farkas humphed and Romanda rolled her eyes.
Kiir wasn't sure why they seemed so upset. Destruction magic was dangerous; the Dominion was only looking out for their people. And what had Romanda called them? Slimy bastards? Surely she didn't liken them to mucus laden slugs, they were anything but.
"Enough about magic," Eorlund waved his hand dismissively. "I can get you some steel armor whipped up by tomorrow morning. I'm thinking 500 gold for the whole set?"
Kiir suddenly remembered Helgen and Hadvar. You were lucky to get the necklace back. She had no money and no idea how to get any. Kiir touched her neck - she didn't plan on selling this.
Romanda glanced over at the fidgeting elf and sighed. "I don't think she's got that kind of money."
Eorlund made a sound like a laugh cut short. "No High Elf with hair that long comes from a poor family."
"And no High Elf wears clothes that look like they'd fit a child's doll." Romanda responded. "Can't we cut the girl some slack?"
"Are you going to pay me, Romanda?" Eorlund stared at the Orc for only a moment before turning his back to the group and returning to his forge. "I don't work for free."
Romanda cast a pitiful glance at Kiir and then at Farkas. "Surely you've got the coin, hon. Nie'mar says the Companions are doing well for themselves; haven't we got coin to spare?"
Farkas shook his head and started to speak but another voice cut him off.
"This one heard her name."
Kiir turned back to the staircase to see a grey Khajiit making her way towards them. Her ears were adorned with many golden earrings and her hair hung in thick cords, each with a gold ring of their own on the end. She reminded Kiir of the wives and daughters of the Manes who'd visited Alinor; some of whom wore so many pieces of jewelry they seemed to be a walking beacon of light.
"Hello, Harbinger." Farkas nodded in her direction.
"Good morning, Farkas." The Khajiit beamed. She looked at Romanda and then up at Kiir. "And good morning to you."
"Good morning."
The Khajiit turned to Romanda. "I heard you speak this o- my name."
Romanda shook her head. "I was only trying to convince Farkas," she paused to stare at him. "To spare a few coins for some armor."
The Khajiit looked amused. "Surely Farkas has more than enough armor. I've seen his room, and he most likely has more than this one does."
Farkas pointed to Kiir. "Not for me. For her."
Kiir watched the Khajiit's eyes look over her for a moment before she nodded. "I see Romanda has found another stray to take in. You do look awfully uncomfortable in that dress. Is Eorlund too busy? I can spare you some of this one's armor. Although, I'm not sure it will fit."
Eorlund spoke up. "Not too busy, Nie'mar. She simply doesn't have the coin."
Nie'mar huffed. "If you're going to be like that, thi- I'll pay for it." She glanced up at Kiir. "I'm assuming some basic steel armor will do the trick?"
Kiir didn't feel right, having this stranger buy her things. It felt even more odd, considering her early encounters. "No, that's not-"
"Nonsense. I cannot send you out with good conscience in that outfit." Nie'mar reached into a pocket in her belt and hauled out a smaller pouch. "500, right?"
Eorlund nodded but did not take the pouch Nie'mar extended to him. "I won't take money from you, Harbinger. If you want me to make this elf some armor, I will do just that."
Nie'mar placed the pouch back and looked at Kiir again. "You've probably already figured out who I am. But I don't know who you are."
Kiir much preferred conversing with the Khajiit; the Nord's accents nearly gave her a headache in trying to decipher them. "Kiir'Dun."
Nie'mar raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, but said nothing. Instead, she waved a hand towards the boat-building. "Eorlund won't be done with your armor for a while. Please, come inside."
Without warning, the Khajiit turned and started to make her way back down the stairs.
The inside of the boat-building was even more impressive than Kiir would've thought. A huge roaring fire was set in the center of the room, giving a warm and welcome feeling as she entered.
Just as she stepped down the stairs to the lower section of the room, a loud thump echoed off to her left and she jumped.
Two people, one of them a Dunmer, Kiir noticed, had started fighting. Kiir flinched backwards into Nie'mar as one of their fists connected with the other's face.
"Hey, now! You are scaring our guest!" Nie'mar shouted, moving past Kiir towards the dueling duo.
A woman approached Kiir quite swiftly to her right. "Don't see many of you around."
Kiir was still focused on the fight ongoing to the side, completely surprised no one was doing anything to stop them. "I... aren't-"
"It happens." The woman interrupted.
She had dark blue face paint done across the entirety her face, appearing very... primitive. Kiir tried backing away from her but ran this time into Romanda. Even though she stood above most of them, Kiir was beginning to feel claustrophobic.
"Aela doesn't bite." Romanda said, placing a hand on Kiir's arm and moving her back up the stairs where it was less crowded.
Aela grinned. "Shows what she knows." She then looked back at Nie'mar, who'd been attempting to quell the fighting. "Harbinger, what's the High Elf doing here?"
Nie'mar ignored her for a moment, pulling the Dunmer to his feet and crossing her arms at him. He spoke some words to her before taking a seat at the long table surrounding the fire.
"She's here for armor. And some food and rest." Nie'mar waved Kiir over to the table. "Come, sit. We've got more than enough food."
Kiir nodded and took one of the end seats, remembering she hadn't had the chance to sit all morning. She extended her feet towards the fire, sighing softly.
Romanda clattered into the seat beside her. "You know," she started, "I have a house here. You can stay the night and Farkas and I can take you to the College in the morning."
"I wouldn't want to-"
"You wouldn't." Romanda interrupted. "We've got an extra bed and, no offense, but I don't think you'd make it very far on your own."
Kiir shrugged. "I made it this far."
"Luck can run out very fast."
Kiir considered. It was still only mid-morning and Nie'mar had made it sound like her armor would be done in a couple of hours. That would mean she could leave around dinner time, maybe even earlier. "I hadn't planned to stay long."
Romanda scoffed. "And I don't blame you. Your kind aren't very well trusted in Nord country. I was in your situation once and I can tell you travelling alone out in Skyrim isn't easy; a few spells aren't going to fool bandits or Thalmor."
Kiir shook her head. "The Thalmor shouldn't give me any trouble."
"What, because you look like them? Hon, they barely trust each other."
"I've done nothing illegal." Kiir scrunched up her nose. "They should have no quarrel with me."
"They have a quarrel with everybody." Romanda reached forward and grabbed an apple from one of the bowls. "Nords, mostly. But don't think those pointy ears are going to earn you any brownie points. Mine sure didn't."
Kiir huffed. Romanda wasn't making a bit of sense; Thalmor were the justice bringers and order holders. They kept peace and stability for the Isles and her people. She made it sound like they were war mongrels. "I'm sure they seem that way to you."
A grin spread across Romanda's face but Kiir had the inkling that it wasn't a happy smile. "What, I'm a little too green for them?" She then tapped her two large bottom teeth. "Or maybe it's these guys. Too beastly?"
Kiir immediately regretted her earlier comment. "No, I just mean... you didn't grow up with them-"
"And thank the GODS for that one!" Romanda roared, lifting her hands in exasperation and then slamming them back down.
Grabbing a small roll from one of the plates, Kiir nibbled as an excuse to stop talking. She could feel Romanda's eyes on her
"Look." Romanda started, her voice now much softer. "As I'm understanding it, it sounds like your Thalmor and Skyrim's Thalmor aren't of the same breed. I don't want you getting into any trouble with them. They're no one you want to screw around with." She placed the hand not holding the apple on Kiir's shoulder. "My house is the little one by the blacksmith's just inside the main gate. We eat around 7."
And with that, Romanda rose and left.
Kiir spent a while longer in the boat-building, feeling like it was childish to meekly follow Romanda. However, without the orc to converse with she felt out of place. It was only a minute or two before Kiir slipped out the front, deciding to explore a bit of the city before attempting to find Romanda's home.
Despite its crowded and, as Kiir saw it, unruly nature the city had a charm to it the longer she stayed. The atmosphere was something she'd never experienced on Summerset; it was alive, if a bit loud. The lines of class were blurred. Children of rags ran about with children of means, hard laborers discussed the times with people of wealth.
Most intriguing of all there stood a man, adorned in robes of orange and gold, preaching loudly to any that stopped to listen. Kiir would've simply continued on her way had he not swung an arm out at her as she passed.
"You have come!" He said, drawing her in. "You have come to hear the word of Talos!"
She had not. But his vigor and intensity intrigued her. She'd heard much of the man-god from back home and while many of her people despised the very thought, Kiir could not help but wonder why so many held him in such regard to sacrifice their lives for him. "I have."
"My friend!" His entire being seemed to glow. "If you seek knowledge about the mighty Talos, you have come to the right person! Is there anything particular you'd like to know?"
Kiir pondered for a moment, before offering a question long dismissed by any of her professors in school. "What did Talos do to deserve a place amongst the Divine?"
The man seemed aghast. "What did he not do? Mastering the voice and uniting all of Tamriel he did more than any man could ever hope to!"
"So, he was never a man?"
"No, no. What he did as a man allowed him to ascend to the Divines and take his place amongst them!"
That made no sense. "But you said he did more than a man could. So he couldn't do what a man couldn't unless he wasn't a man."
The preacher halted and stared at her. "He was a man! No other man before nor after him could hope to match his ability and power!"
"Why?" Kiir inquired. "What made him so special?"
"He was a hero-god! He mastered the voice and conquered all of Tamriel!"
"You said that already." Kiir pointed out. "What made him different from all the other men?"
"Because he is Talos the mighty! Talos the unerring! Talos the unassailable!"
Kiir sighed. This was going nowhere and she knew it. But something, perhaps her curiosity or her ignorance, pushed her to continue. However, as she opened her mouth to speak, two large hands plopped themselves onto her shoulders.
"There'll be no more of that." It was Farkas. He turned her from the preaching man and directed her towards the stairs down to the market place.
"That man refused to give me a straight answer."
"Most around here choose to ignore him."
Kiir huffed as Farkas moved from behind her to walk beside her instead.
"I bet this place is a lot different than where you're from."
Kiir nodded. "Very."
They walked in silence the rest of the way to small, quaint place he and Romanda called home. For two people close to Kiir's own height, it was surprising to her that they lived in such a cozy place. She admired the decorations, ranging from delicate pottery on shelves to animal heads heaved up on the walls. Her attention, however, was quickly diverted towards the aroma of meat and herbs that filled the living room.
Romanda stood at the fire, stirring a boiling pot as Farkas and Kiir made their way inside. She grinned up at them. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost."
"Far from it." Farkas replied. "She was up by Jorrvaskr arguing with Heimskr."
"I'm surprised you even took the time to listen to his ramblings." Romanda let the wooden spoon sit up against the pot as she rose from her seat. "You can help set the table. C'mere."
Kiir followed closely behind Romanda as she weaved her way to the back cabinet filled with assorted plates, bowls and cups. "They don't match?"
Romanda's face curled up into a smile and handed her 3 tin cups. "Put those on the table behind you."
Kiir did as she was told and sat across from Romanda. The soup smelled unfamiliar but delicious nonetheless. The was beginning to become a theme for food in Skyrim. "What is this?"
"Horker." Farkas mumbled quickly before heaving a spoonful into his mouth.
"They're big, fat sea mammals from the North. Up near the College." Romanda explained.
Kiir, now far less excited to try the stew, tentatively dipped her spoon in. She sipped at the edge and was delighted to find it tasted incredibly similar to the fish back home.
All three had a second helping, and Kiir contemplated a third before she decided having left-overs for the journey to the College would be far better than stuffing herself that night.
Kiir watched Romanda move from the table to the sink, clearing the table of dishes. "You said you'd been in my situation once."
Romanda paused. "I did."
"What happened?"
Romanda dropped the rest of the bowls into the sink and sighed. "Do you know anything about Orcs?"
Kiir shrugged. "Not a lot. You live in... forts? No, clans." She paused. "Usually."
"Strongholds, but close enough," she started, sitting down next to Kiir.
"Strongholds." Kiir repeated. "Clearly, you're not there anymore."
Romanda smiled. "Thank goodness."
"How old were you?" Kiir turned to the side to face Romanda. "When you left, I mean."
"I was about 19 years old,. My dad was getting to that age where he was ready to leave this world to join Malacath." She leaned over and grabbed a towel off the edge of the table, wiping her hands off. "And there was this other orc near the stronghold. Torad," she said grimacing. "He was an ass, but he won." She took a deep breath, "He won the fight, killed my father, became chief and wanted me as his Hearth-wife."
Kiir frowned. "Hearth-wife? Is that a special kind of wife?"
"The most special. The Hearth-wife get's to bare his children and dictate what the others do while he is gone." Romanda seemed to think a moment. "A chief can take many Forge-wives and Shield-wives and Hunt-wives, but there is only one who he claims as his first."
"That... that still sounds..." Kiir's voice trailed off. "Don't you get to chose? Why didn't you just... say no?"
Romanda began to laugh, "You don't get to say no. It's an honor to be the first wife of the strongest male in the clan." She sighed, "I didn't think it would seem so strange to you. Don't you Altmer have arranged marriages?"
It was a good point. "We do, but they aren't done.." Kiir thought for a moment. "It's for the longevity of our heritage, not because one man is the strongest."
"We do it for our gene pools then. The stronger the better, you know?" She smiled. Romanda looked at the fire. "Anyway, when I finished burying my dad I took off for the hills."
"The hills?"
"High ground, away from that," she said waving behind her. "I wasn't going to become Torad's first. I didn't want that, so I left. I ended up here in Skyrim eventually, and well," She gestured to herself. "Here I am now," she smiled.
Kiir returned the smile. "Well, thank you. I appreciate the help."
"I'm just glad you let me help. I was too stubborn to accept help when I first ventured out, felt like I constantly had to prove myself to the world that I could live on my own. I was proven wrong quite a few times," she cringed.
Kiir chuckled. "I'm glad everything worked out for you."
Romanda smiled as she turned and looked at Kiir, "My point is, dear, if you ever need anything, I'm here. Don't you ever hesitate to ask me for something." She placed a hand on Kiir's arm, "I got lucky, and I want to know you'll be okay out there."
"I think all I need now is sleep."
Romanda smiled, "I think that's the best for all of us."
Romanda returned to her room and rummaged through her trunk, offering Kiir a nightgown to sleep in. It was of no surprise it was a little short but was leagues more comfortable than the dress Kiir'd gotten from Sigrid.
There was a small room just off the stairs that Romanda assigned to Kiir. It was probably one of the smallest rooms Kiir had ever slept in, but with a full stomach it didn't take long for the Altmer to drift off into a dreamless slumber.
