Chapter 4: Beauty and the Giant (Morndas, 18th of Last Seed)
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast of chicken eggs, grilled venison, and baked apples, the group of newfound friends stood on the porch of Alvor and Sigrid's house. Aerenwen and Hadvar were dressed for travel, Hadvar in his freshly cleaned (though still scorched) uniform and Aerenwen in a simple blue dress Sigrid had given her. The others were seeing them off. Hamish had been sad to learn of their leaving but seemed relieved when he was promised Aerenwen would return before nightfall.
She would be traveling to Whiterun alone. Hadvar had decided to return to Helgen before traveling north. He wasn't certain what he would find, or even what he hoped to find - survivors? answers? - but he felt he needed to see the destruction one last time before reporting to his superiors. He knew they would have numerous questions.
"Remember, take the road to the right after you cross the bridge outside of town," Sigrid instructed. "Follow that road downriver, and you can't miss Whiterun rising out of the planes ahead of you like a mountain. At the crossroads, it's a left, passed the Honningbrew Meadery, and you'll come to the stables right outside of town. It's a couple of hours travel on foot. Not a bad trip, really. We used to make it ourselves once a month before the war. Now you need to be on the lookout for bandits. The soldiers and guards are too tied up fighting each other to keep the roads as safe as they used to." She passed Aerenwen a satchel with some food and made her promise, for the fifth time, to return to their home that night.
Aerenwen thanked them again for their kindness and began her journey.
It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear blue, and the sound of birds and the rushing water of the White River serenaded her as she walked the stone road. Skyrim truly was a beautiful land with its snow-covered mountains and vast wilderness. Aerenwen hoped she would have the opportunity to explore it.
The journey was a quiet one for the most part. The only wildlife she encountered were a few deer and foxes along the road. She passed a currier, hurrying along, who greeted her simply with a nod, in too much of a hurry for small talk. As she rounded a corner where the river turned into a set of roaring steppe-falls, she could see the hold's capital rising above the planes just as Sigrid had described. The palace, and the walled city below it, looked like a manmade mountain in the expanse of flatness.
The closer she got to the city, she saw a few guards here and there. Their uniforms were simple scaled armor with tan sashes draped over them, full steel helmets that hid their faces, and a tan shield baring an emblem of a horse. They nodded at Aerenwen as she passed but didn't speak, and like the other Nords she had encountered, seemed slightly suspicious of her presence.
She had just passed the Honningbrew Meadery when a farm came into view. In one of the fields a battle ensued between a giant and three warriors. The ground quaked with each hit of the giant's massive wooden club, and the warriors raced around his feet as they attempted to take him down.
Always one for adventure, Aerenwen thought the idea of taking down a giant was a thrilling one. This was the first she'd seen, but her uncle had often written of them in his letters.
She unsheathed her sword and ran to join the fray. The giant didn't see her coming, and she was able to slice her blade through the tendons at the back of his left ankle. He cried out in pain and fell forward, allowing the largest of the warriors, a Nord man in full armor, to cleave off his head with one mighty swing of his longsword.
Aerenwen stood over the giant then, taking in the massive beast with her eyes. Her uncle had said they were generally peaceful creatures, but on a few occasions, he'd been hired to take care of one that was causing problems for a farm, stealing their livestock and trampling their crops. She wondered if this were a similar case.
"Thank you for the assistance," a woman's voice stated.
Aerenwen turned and met the gray-green eyes of what was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. This warrior woman was thin but curved in all the right places. Her muscles were defined but not so much so as to make her look hard or masculine. She wore armor that was an odd mix of hide, steel, and fur. A quiver of arrows was strapped to her back, and she held a hunting bow in her right hand. Her hair was a brownish red, auburn, and hung loosely to her shoulders. Her facial features were small and rounded, partially obscured by the warpaint she wore in the design of claw marks stretched across her eyes. And those eyes . . . a swarming sea of secrets that seemed to look deep within Aerenwen.
"You handle yourself well," the woman complimented, pulling the elf from her thoughts. "You'd make for a decent shield-sister."
The term confused Aerenwen. "A shield-sister?"
"An outsider, eh?" the woman replied with a smirk. "We are the Companions, a group of warriors who pledge to support each other as brothers and sisters in arms. If you're interested in joining, you should think of talking to Kodlak Whitemane at Jorrvaskr. We could use a woman like you."
Aerenwen couldn't get over her reaction to this Nord woman. Though she'd had intimate encounters with both sexes over the years, she'd honestly never gleaned much pleasure from them. She'd never had a reaction emotionally to another as any more than friendship, and she'd never really felt an attraction either. Certainly not one as strong as this one that had her thoughts jumbled and her body reacting in ways she was unfamiliar with. She'd often wondered if she was just truly meant to be alone and would never experience the love and partnership she saw between her parents or the physical pleasure she heard about from her siblings. This woman, however, seemed to be changing all that.
"I'll give it some thought," she replied simply, unable to focus her words into anything more detailed.
"I hope so," the woman answered. She looked the elf up and down with another smirk. "I certainly wouldn't mind having someone like you amongst us. Safe travels, elf. I hope to see you at Jorrvaskr."
Aerenwen simply nodded and continued down the road to Whiterun, shaking her head to rattle off the fog she found herself in. First, she would visit the Jarl and complete her errand. Then, she would consider visiting this Jorrvaskr and learning more about the Companions and subsequently the Nordic beauty she felt would not be leaving her mind any time soon.
Getting into the city had been a bit more trouble than Aerenwen had anticipated. Word of trouble in Helgen seemed to have reached Whiterun, and the city was on lockdown. The guards didn't appear to know the exact nature of the trouble in the fortified town to the south, but they were following orders and not allowing visitors in. Being an Altmer, they seemed especially suspicious of Aerenwen. After telling them she had come from Helgen and wished to report what she had seen to the Jarl, they agreed to let her enter.
Whiterun was a bustling city, and Aerenwen couldn't help but feel comfortable in its welcoming streets. The architecture, a mixture of wood, clay and stone, had a more elegant style than the simple cottages of Riverwood, even Helgen, and portrayed comfort. Wooden carvings of dragons adorned the buildings and decorative plants and trees were scattered amongst the structures. The people were friendly, and the streets were clean. Add to it the beautiful summer day with the sun climbing in the bright blue sky, and Aerenwen's mood was quite high, considering.
The first place of business she noticed upon entering the city was a blacksmith's shop, recognizable by the smelter, forge, workbench, and tools beneath the lean-to at the side of the building. A sign over the door read 'Warmaiden's', and Aerenwen was intrigued as she usually was with blacksmith shops. She couldn't take the time to stop, however, and continued on, only hearing a small bit of the argument between a pretty woman in a blacksmith's apron and a hulking Nord in Imperial armor - something about weapons and Gray-Manes.
Dragonsreach was at the very top of the walled city, a massive palace reached after climbing dozens of steps. Aerenwen was again stopped at the door by the guards.
"I assume the guards at the gate had a good reason for letting you through," the man stated. "The Jarl isn't accepting visitors. State your business."
"I come with word from Helgen," she replied simply, and after the guards exchanged a surprised glance, she was quickly escorted into the palace.
Almost immediately they were approached by a red-headed Dunmer in full steel armor, sword ready. "What is the meaning of this interruption?" she asked sternly. "You know the Jarl isn't accepting visitors."
"Forgive us, Lady Irileth," the guard who had escorted the visitor in apologized. "She says she has news of Helgen. We thought the Jarl would want to see her."
The woman, Irileth, quickly sheathed her sword and made eye contact with Aerenwen. The High Elf had always found the red-hued eyes of her Dunmer brethren to be a bit disconcerting. "You were at Helgen?"
"Yes," she replied. "I saw what happened with my own eyes."
"The Jarl will want to speak with you himself. Come. This way," she turned and lead the taller elf toward the throne situated at the end of the great hall. "Return to your post," she ordered, waving the guard away.
The throne of Whiterun was a large, ornately carved wooden seat. What appeared to be a dragon's skull hung on the tall wall behind it. From his perch, Jarl Balgruuf could look over the entire expanse of the massive great hall of Dragonsreach. The long tables were empty, and aside from guards, only two men accompanied the Jarl. One wore fine clothes and appeared to be of Imperial descent. The other was unmistakably a Nord, his red hair and beard both braided, wearing heavy armor and armed to the hilt.
"Excuse the interruption, Jarl," the guard, Irileth, stated boldly. "This Altmer woman claims to have come from Helgen. She wishes to report what she has seen directly to you."
"Of course," the Jarl, a man of great stature, hulking muscles, and graying-blonde hair, spoke, looking directly at Aerenwen. "Speak, elf."
"I was in Helgen when it was destroyed," she began. "A dragon came out of nowhere and devastated the city. I was able to escape via an underground passage beneath the keep alongside an Imperial soldier and an orphaned child. We fled to Riverwood and were taken in for the night by Alvor, the blacksmith, and his family. I'm uncertain as to whether there were any other survivors."
"By the gods," the Jarl muttered. "Irileth, you were right! Tell me, where did you last see this dragon?"
"It flew over the western mountains, sir," she replied. "Beyond a place the locals referred to as Bleak Falls Barrow."
"The Barrow? Really?" The Jarl seemed deep in thought for a moment before he was interrupted by his Dunmer bodyguard.
"Jarl Balgruuf, we must send troops to Riverwood at once," she stated. "The village is in the greatest danger based upon the dragon's last known location, and the people are entirely defenseless."
The Jarl began to agree but was interrupted by the fine dressed Imperial at his side.
"We must act cautiously," he warned. "The Jarl of Falkreath may see troops in Riverwood as an act of aggression and assume we've sided with the Stormcloaks."
"I will not leave my people and my hold defenseless," the Jarl replied. "Irileth, send detachments to both Riverwood and Rorikstead at once. Expand the guard already located at the watchtowers, and increase the frequency of patrols to the outlying farms. Proventius, pen a letter to Jarl Siddgeir, explaining the situation. He's young and hard-headed but not unreasonable. He should be warned of the attack as well."
"Of course, sir," the man, Proventius, replied, disappearing around a corner to the right.
Irileth, too, quickly left the hall, leaving through the same massive doorway Aerenwen had arrived through.
"You, elf, what are you called?" the Jarl asked.
"I am Aerenwen," she replied humbly. "I arrived in Skyrim only yesterday. Helgen was my first stop."
"What an unfortunate turn of events for you to have become involved in," the Jarl commented, "but Whiterun thanks you. Rumors cannot be trusted. We had heard of the attack on Helgen but had no confirmation of from where the attack originated, so thank you for taking the initiative to come to me and warn us. My hold is in your debt."
Aerenwen simply nodded. She was, thus far, impressed with this Jarl.
"Do you plan to stay in Whiterun long?" he asked.
"I'm not certain. As I said, I'm new to Skyrim. My siblings and I were separated, but we were looking for our uncle, Borir, a traveling mercenary and bard. I really haven't any idea where I should begin looking for any of them."
"I recognize the name Borir," the Jarl replied. "He has traveled through my city before, though I cannot tell you when he last visited. You are welcome in Whiterun for as long as you like, Aerenwen. And, so you may know, although Thalmor emissaries can be seen traveling the roads throughout the hold, there is no Thalmor presence within this city."
How perceptive, Aerenwen noted. She thanked him for his hospitality.
"Aside from the dragon, how are you liking Whiterun so far?" he asked.
"I've only just arrived in the city before coming to you, so I've not had much time to explore it yet," she replied, "but the people seem welcoming, and the city is beautiful. My stay in Riverwood last night was quite nice, and I've promised I would return for another night after relaying my message to you."
"Alvor is a good man," the Jarl commented. "A true Nord. Loyal and hard-working."
"This civil war I've been thrust into," Aerenwen commented. "On which side are you?"
The Jarl chuckled. "Why, I'm on the side of Whiterun, little elf. Jarl Elisif and General Tulius would, no doubt, say I owe allegiance to the Emperor because of all the Empire has done for Skyrim. Jarl Ulfric would state my allegiance as a Nord should be with him and the Stormcloaks. In truth, they're both right. I am doing my best to keep my people and my hold out of this foolish war, but a time may come I need to pick sides, and when I do so, it will be with the best interests of Whiterun at heart."
"What will you do if a dragon attacks, sir?" Aerenwen wondered. "Will the guards you sent to the villages be enough?"
"Most likely not," he answered solemnly. "It's been hundreds of years since a dragon has been seen in Skyrim. We've no idea how to fight them. The guards in my outlying villages will have one primary duty - to get the citizens to safety. If the villages are destroyed, so be it. Here in Whiterun, I will increase our store of water to battle fires, and we'll do our best to stave off an attack should it come. Speaking of the dragon, again, my court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire, has always had a fascination with them. I suppose with them returning, I'll need to allow him to spend more time on his research. I should introduce you. He'd, no doubt, like to hear what you saw."
The court wizard was a tall Nord, though beneath his dark mage robes he appeared to be quite thin in comparison to the warriors and laborers Aerenwen had encountered thus far. He was distracted and muttering to himself, bent over a table, when the Jarl and his guest approached.
"Farengar, I need to speak to you," the Jarl interrupted, startling the man who visibly jumped.
"Oh, of course, Jarl, I apologize, I will return to the enchantment you were asking for," he stuttered in reply. "This dragon research can wait."
"Continue with your research," the Jarl replied. "It seems any insight you may have on dragons will become more of a priority now. This High Elf, Aerenwen, comes from Helgen. The town was just decimated by a dragon."
The wizards eyes, shadowed by his hood, widened almost comically. "A dragon!? Seen alive!? This is amazing!"
"Amazing isn't exactly the word I would use for it," the Jarl commented dryly.
"You must tell me everything," the wizard rushed on, not even noticing the Jarl's sarcasm. "What did it look like? What powers did it appear to have? Where did it come from? Where did it go?"
"Slow down, wizard. Let the elf answer one question before you move onto the next."
"Of course, of course. I apologize. Speak."
"I've no idea where it came from," Aerenwen replied. "I assume it was lurking in the mountains above Helgen before the attack as we heard several roars before it came into sight. It was massive and black with great wings. The ground quivered when it landed and whenever it roared. It breathed fire, and somehow, the sky clouded over on its approach and fireballs seemed to rain down from the heavens."
"Hmmm. Some sort of weather control it sounds like," the wizard commented, jotting down some notes in a book on his table.
"It was last seen flying over Bleak Falls Barrow," Aerenwen finished. "As far as I know, Helgen is the only place it has attacked."
"Bleak Falls Barrow? Really?"
"I thought you would find that part interesting, Farengar. His research has recently led him to some sort of dragon relic located within the barrow," the Jarl explained to Aerenwen. "He's been after me to hire the Companions or a mercenary to retrieve it, but dead dragons weren't exactly a priority for court spending. I suppose, now, it's something that must be done. Any information on the dragons we can find is necessary. Would you, perhaps, be interested in retrieving this relic for us? There will be a great deal of coin in it for you when you return."
"Yes, I will do it," Aerenwen replied, her serious tone doing well to conceal the excitement she felt within at the opportunity of an adventure. She'd been eager to explore the ancient ruin ever since Hadvar had pointed out it's enormous stone arches on their trip to Riverwood, and getting paid to do so sounded like a job right up her alley.
"Very well. Thank you again for your service. I'll leave you two to hash out the finer details. We shall look for your return in two days' time. That should give you some time to prepare for what will, no doubt, be a hazardous endeavor."
After the Jarl left, the wizard seemed content to return to his books, so Aerenwen was forced to ask questions to find out exactly what she was looking for. "So, this Dragonstone. What is it exactly?"
"Honestly, I'm not entirely certain," the wizard replied. "It was brought to my attention in a text I was reading, and a colleague of mine helped me trace its location to Bleak Falls Barrow. It's an ancient stone, engraved with what we believe to be a map of ancient dragon burial mounds."
"How will that be of help to us?" Aerenwen asked. "We're dealing with a living dragon, not long-dead ones."
"Aye, that is true," he agreed, "however, at this point, we know so little of the dragons, any information we can get our hands on is valuable. We cannot ignore the knowledge of this relic's location, even if it ends up not being of much help in our current predicament." The wizard crossed the room and began thumbing through his collection of books on the subject. "Bleak Falls Barrow is an ancient ruin. It likely pre-dates the Dragon War itself. It's a burial chamber, of course, and I would assume someone important is buried deep within it, and the Dragonstone most likely will be within that chamber. However, the chamber has never been formerly excavated or explored by anyone looking for knowledge rather than riches. It could be full of information on dragons we aren't even aware is there. Keep your eyes open for anything that could be of some help."
"What is the Dragon War?" Aerenwen asked.
"Not being a native, I'm not surprised you've never heard of it," Farengar replied with a smile. This subject was obviously something he was extremely passionate about. "I, myself, was raised in Skyrim and believed it to be a myth until I began myresearch. Years ago, the ancient Nords revered dragons as gods. These beasts ruled over Skyrim and had priests who served them. Eventually, the ancient Nords found a way to overthrow the dragons and corrupt dragonpriests, but it was not without bloodshed. This great war was known as the Dragon War. Many lost their lives - dragons and men alike - but the Nords persevered, and from then on, dragons were hunted. Eventually to their extinction, or so we believed." He passed two brown leather-bound books to Aerenwen. "Here are some books I have on the subject. Duplicates, of course. You seem to be scholarly and not just some brute the Jarl pulled in off the street. You know the location of the barrow?"
Aerenwen nodded and tucked the books into her satchel.
"Very well. I shall return to my research then. Good luck to you."
Aerenwen sat upon a wooden bench in a courtyard at the foot of the stairs leading up to Dragonsreach and pulled out the food Sigrid had packed her - some bread, cheese, dried beef, and a green apple as well as a small bottle of Nord mead. Aerenwen wasn't terribly fond of the thick liquid but supposed she should get used to it as it seemed to be the most prevalent drink in the province. Behind her stood a large, very old, and what appeared to be dead, tree, and she wondered at its significance. Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
"We meet again." The beautiful warrior from earlier stood over her with that confident smirk on her face. "Give any thought to my offer?" She sat down beside Aerenwen and pulled her own apple out of her satchel, taking a bite.
"Not yet," the elf replied honestly. "I needed to report some news to the Jarl, and now I have an errand to run for him."
The woman seemed surprised at this. No doubt a stranger, an Altmer at that, who helped take down a giant in a simple blue dress with nothing more than an old iron shortsword, being on speaking terms with the hold's Jarl, was probably a shock.
"Running errands for the Jarl?" she commented. "After just arriving in Whiterun?"
Aerenwen chuckled dryly. "I was sort of thrust into a situation unexpectedly upon my arrival to Skyrim and needed to report what happened to the Jarl."
"Sounds like a story there."
Aerenwen nodded, taking a sip of the heavy mead. "Isn't there always a story when fate throws adventure your way?"
The other woman grinned at that. "Aye. You've a thirst for adventure then? You really must take me up on my suggestion to talk to Kodlak. We seem to have more members as of late who are in it for the coin rather than the honor and thrill."
"And you're in it for the honor and thrill, I assume?"
She nodded, her auburn hair falling in her face slightly. Aerenwen fought the urge to reach over and tuck it back behind the other woman's ear. "What is left if you haven't any honor?" she asked.
"Is that why you joined the Companions?"
"My mother was a Companion, and her mother before her," the woman replied. "All the women in my family dating back to Hrotti Blackblade served in the Companions. I was raised by my father in the woods of Falkreath Hold. We hunted every day, and it was the best training you could get. Unfortunately my mother did not live long enough to see me continue our family's legacy, but I know she looks down on me from Sovngarde with pride."
Aerenwen smiled, both surprised and touched that the beautiful stranger was willing to share that little personal piece of herself. "And what is it, exactly, that you Companions do?"
"Well, we sit on our haunches here in Whiterun a bit more than I would like," she replied with a chuckle, "but we are hired to solve problems for coin, so long as there is honor involved. We fight for Skyrim's people against the evils of the land, and it means waking up every day knowing it could be your last . . . having to earn your life by clawing your last breath from it. I don't know how those lords wake up every day and go about their boring lives. What's the point of life if you're not really living it?"
Aerenwen couldn't agree more and smiled in comradery with the other woman. She could see them getting along just fine. "I am Aerenwen," she stated, raising her hand to shake.
"Aela," the woman replied, meeting her in a firm handshake. Her skin was surprisingly soft considering her chosen lifepath. "They call me 'The Huntress'."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Aela the Huntress," Aerenwen replied with a soft smile.
"And you as well, Aerenwen. I hope to be able to fight alongside you again someday soon."
"Perhaps," Aerenwen replied. She wanted to retain an air of mystery though she had full intentions of looking into the Companions further after she'd completed her Dragonstone business. "For now, it's off to Riverwood and then Bleak Falls Barrow in the morning. May we meet again."
The warrior woman's thin eyebrows rose at the mention of the barrow, but she smiled and bid the elf farewell when she stood and continued further down the stone steps toward the gate that would take her out of the city.
It was mid-afternoon when Aerenwen returned to Riverwood. She spent the rest of the afternoon chopping wood for Gerdur at the mill while Hamish and Dorthe played nearby with her son, Frodnar. Gerdur and her husband, Hod, were a kind couple, though they were very guarded and kept to themselves. Aerenwen needed some coin to pay Alvor. She needed armor, and though she was sure he'd allow her to fashion her own free of charge, she wanted to be able to compensate him for the materials she used. She had encountered Hod not long after returning to town, and when she had enquired to him as to whether or not he was aware of any paid work in the village, he told her he was always happy to pay anyone willing to put in a few hours of labor chopping wood.
Gerdur appeared beside her after some time with a flask of water to refresh her. Aerenwen thanked her and made small talk, asking about the village.
"My family were the first to settle the area," Gerdur replied. She was a pretty woman, if a bit plain, with shoulder-length blonde hair she wore braided back from her face. Her arms were thick with muscle from years of work heaving heavy logs, and she wore brown work gloves to protect her hands. "A lot of folk think I own the land, but I don't. It belongs to the Jarl of Whiterun. I just pay the taxes to live here and harvest the timber. What brings you to our humble village?"
"I just arrived in Skyrim," Aerenwen replied. "I was mistaken as a rebel and taken to Helgen with other prisoners. I escaped when the dragon attacked, and Alvor was kind enough to take me in when I found my way here. Now I'm making preparations to run an errand for the Jarl."
"A dragon really attacked Helgen?" Gerdur asked, shocked. "I had heard the rumors but didn't believe them to be true."
Aerenwen nodded, taking a long drink from the water flask.
"The rebels you were captured with, tell me, do you know if there was one by the name of Ralof?"
"Yes, actually, there was," she answered with surprise. "He was the only one I really spoke to. We were in a wagon together on the trip to Helgen, and he was quite kind to me."
"Is he . . . I mean, do you know if he made it?" Gerdur asked quietly.
Aerenwen frowned. She didn't know that he had, but she didn't know that he hadn't either. She wanted to put this woman at ease, and she obviously cared about Ralof in some way. "I don't know what happened to him after we went our separate ways," Aerenwen replied. "He escaped execution, like I did, thanks to the dragon, and the last I saw him, he was alive and well, making his way out of the village. Beyond that, I don't have answers for you."
Gerdur nodded. "Thank you for that, at least." She was quiet for a moment. "Ralof is my older brother," she explained. "It was him who was supposed to be running the family mill, but he chose a soldier's life instead. Our grandfather was arrested by the Thalmor for his Talos worship many years ago, so when Ulfric took up arms for the rebel cause, he joined. I worry about him dreadfully, but I keep quiet about it. It's hard knowing who favors what side in this war, and I have no desire to have bad blood with anyone over politics."
"Be proud of your brother," Aerenwen replied. "Whatever anyone thinks about the cause doesn't matter. He fights for what he believes is right, and there is honor in that. Ralof is a good man. He gave kindness to a strange Altmer woman, which is more than I can say for any other Stormcloak I encountered that day."
The woman smiled her thanks and returned to her work. Aerenwen watched her leave and sent up a prayer to the divines that Ralof was alive and his sister was given peace soon.
"Greetings, sister elf! It's nice to see a friendly face so far from home."
Aerenwen had just received her payment from Hod and was leaving the mill area when she encountered a Bosmer. She had little kindred to wood elves and wasn't certain why he was so welcoming. The Altmer and Bosmer had a strained history, and although their provinces were united under the Aldmeri Dominion, she'd heard the Thalmor were quite cruel in Valenwood, spurning a hatred amongst the natives toward Altmer in general. She greeted him with reserved friendliness, however, understanding that he was the only elf she had encountered in Riverwood, and it was probably good to see another mer in town.
"I'm Faendal. Staying in Riverwood long?" he asked.
"I'm not certain," Aerenwen replied, "though even if I end up settling elsewhere, I expect to visit often," she added, thinking of Hamish.
"It's a nice enough village, small and not a lot of culture," the man answered, "mostly Nords. I'm the only elf, and the Valerius siblings have Imperial blood, though their mother was a Nord. The folk are decent, though, even the Nords once they get to know you. Stay away from Sven, though."
"Who's Sven?" she asked.
"Works at the inn," the wood elf replied. "Calls himself a bard."
"What's your problem with him?"
"He's vying for the affections of Camilla Valerius, and she's mine," he spat. "Thinks he can woo her with his words, but I think she'll see right through it."
"Of course she will," Aerenwen retorted dryly. "Who ever fell for sweet words?"
Faendal frowned. "I don't have any time for your jokes right now. But, perhaps, you're right." He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "I wasn't certain I was going to use this, but I wrote this letter to Camilla and signed it from Sven. I think I caught that Nord's lack of eloquence quite well. Could you deliver the letter to her for me?"
Aerenwen accepted the letter but had no intentions of lying to the woman. The fact that Faendal had referred to her like a piece of property and intended to win her affections by lying to her were both things Aerenwen despised, and she had no intent to help him fool the poor girl.
Heading straight to Riverwood Trader, located across the street from Alvor's home and shop, she set out to find Camilla and set her straight on just what type of man Faendal the Bosmer seemed to be.
Upon entering the cluttered shop, Aerenwen interrupted the two siblings in an argument.
"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" she asked.
"No, no. Step right up to the counter!" the man replied. He looked very much the Imperial subject, and she never would have guessed he had Nord blood in him. Shorter, thin, with fine features, tanned skin, and dark hair. "No matter what you may have heard around town, Riverwood Trader is open for business."
Aerenwen was confused. "I haven't heard anything. Did something happen?"
"We were robbed by some bandits just a few nights ago," he replied with a nod. "Luckily, they left the store in tact. They seemed to be after just one thing, and when we handed it over, they spared our lives and left."
"What was it?"
"Oddly enough, it was a family heirloom," he explained. "A golden statuette in the form of a dragon's claw. I've no idea why they would've wanted it. Sure, it's worth a fare bit of coin, but to only take that and leave everything else," he waved absentmindedly at some of the pricier merchandise behind the counter, "it's a mystery to me. That's what we were arguing about when you arrived," he continued. "The claw has been in my mother's family for generations and has always been cherished. My sister, here, wants to go after the bandits to retrieve the claw. I told her we're lucky enough already that we didn't lose our lives and business to the thieves, and we shouldn't go pushing our luck."
"How could you follow them?" Aerenwen asked, turning toward the attractive woman sitting beside the roaring hearth. Like her brother, her hair and complexion were dark, and she had the petite form of an Imperial, but unlike him, her facial features were more rounded like that of a Nord.
"I overheard them talking about Bleak Falls Barrow," she replied. "It sounded like they were taking the claw there. I don't know why except maybe they set up their camp there. Being abandoned for so long, it's been known to be the hideout for a few bandits over the years."
"I'm actually headed up to the barrow myself on an errand for the Jarl," Aerenwen explained. "I can keep my eye out for this claw of yours while I'm there."
"Oh, thank you!" the woman exclaimed, jumping to her feet and catching the high elf woman off guard with a grateful hug. "If you can find it, it would mean so much to us!"
"Yes, thank you," her brother agreed. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lucan Valerius, proprietor of Riverwood Trader, and the woman hanging off you at the moment, is my younger sister, Camilla. We would be much obliged if you returned the claw to our family where it belongs, and I'll even offer up some coin to you for your effort."
"Camilla, you're actually the reason I came in," Aerenwen said as the woman finally released her from the hug. "I was speaking to Faendal over at the mill. He's quite bitter, and he asked me to give you this letter but wanted me to lie and claim that Sven wrote it. I wanted to tell you of his dishonesty."
Camilla took the letter and looked it over. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I can't believe Faendal would do this. I know he's jealous of my friendship with Sven, but I never imagined he would lie to me like this. He's obviously not the man I thought he was. First, you offer to retrieve the claw, and now, this. You're the heroin of the Valerius family, I suppose."
Aerenwen chuckled. "I don't know about that," she replied. "I'm no heroin. Simply an honest woman who believes in respecting a lady and enjoying an adventure when it presents itself."
Aerenwen's evening was spent crafting around Alvor's forge. The older man was impressed by the young elf's talent in smithing, and it wasn't long before she'd gained his trust, and he no longer felt the need to hover over her as she worked. She paid him for some tanned leather and iron and crafted herself a set of tempered hide armor that fit her perfectly. Alvor and Dorthe both helped, and when they were finished, she had matching boots, bracers, and helmet, and the sword and dagger she had picked up in Helgen were sharpened and improved to the best of all their ability.
That night Aerenwen lie awake in Dorthe's bed, listening to the quiet breathing of the slumbering children on the floor nearby, the soft snores of Sigrid, and the occasional, jarring snort that accompanied Alvor's snoring. The night before she'd been exhausted, so she had collapsed into sleep almost as soon as her head had hit the pillow; but not that night - that night she was filled with excitement at the adventure that awaited her the next morning, apprehension as to what the return of the dragon meant, and worry over what could have befallen her siblings.
She ended up distracting herself by reading one of the books she'd received from Farengar, The Dragon War, by the light of the hearth. Not terribly informational but rather quite poetic in it's style, she could see why everything surrounding dragons had been believed to be a myth. She hoped this Dragonstone would be of some more substantial help to them.
Author's Note: Along with the main quest line, Aerenwen's story will also take her down the Companion's quest line since she is a warrior and has found herself in Whiterun. Personally, I've always had a crush on Aela the Huntress. You've got to admit, she's pretty damn hot for a video game character. My Aela will also have a soft and tender side, reserved for private moments, along with the fierce huntress persona she holds in the game.