Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): petty people, Siddgeir. No, I'm not talking about Siddgeir being petty, though he's like a spoiled child, much like... nvm.
Last time…
I feel a lot better than I have in quite a while, though. My gaze softens as I let the flames dance across my vision. Perhaps Whiterun can become my home one day, even though some people don't want me here.
Chapter 9 - …Does not exist
I wake up to Adrianne nudging my side and Jenassa sitting at her usual spot, covertly eyeing us. "Here." She pushes my gear back into my hands, and I set to examining it with a trained eye, finding no flaws. Impressed, I thank her, disappearing upstairs to find that she'd taken the liberty of improving the fit of all my stuff.
I sheath my axes back into their proper places, the knife disappearing into my belt. Feeling less vulnerable now, I smile. I didn't even notice how used to the armour I'd gotten. Then, I take off everything, even exchanging the boots for the pair of cheap, plain shoes she'd included with the package. I am very lucky, despite everything. The gods are probably taking pity on me.
I had a court wizard to visit… tomorrow, but still. I manage to stuff all the gear into my enchanted knapsack, grinning at how it all fit. Then, I return downstairs. "Thank you for improving the fit, Adrienne." I grin. She leaves soon after buying some meat off Anoriath, leaving me and Jenassa as only patrons in the Drunken Huntsman, Elrindir wiping down the counter and Anoriath leaving to go to bed early.
"How much gold do you own?"
I blink at Jenassa's sudden question, thinking about the new coin purse I'd gotten, enchanted like my knapsack is. I'd gotten the thing at Belethor's along with paper rolls. Ridiculously overpriced, of course. I frown and open my mouth, before closing it. How much coin DO I own?
"No clue. Enough to get by. I haven't counted since leaving Solitude." She takes a long swig of her ale. "Count. Right now." My eyebrows will disappear off my forehead if they rise any higher. Still… "If it makes you happy." I pull out the purse, and start taking out small rolls of coin held together by the rolled-up paper, carefully folded so as not to lose anything. Ten coins a roll, just as the Snowmer did.
I spent a while sitting in front of the fire, plate with grilled leeks on one side, and coins in front of me. "I have 1027 septims." I finally state, starting to put the coins back in the purse as quickly as I can, stuffing some in my old purse as well so as not to lose all my gold in one go should I be robbed. She gapes at me. Then: "I had Farengar write down the prices for filled soul gems up at Dragonsreach. You'll have enough left to pay my fee – that is, if you wish for me to accompany and protect you all across Skyrim."
I glance at her absently even as I take the slip of paper from her, making a few mental calculations. Softly, I mumble: "If I choose to use weaker, singular enchantments, I'll have 577 coins left. However, maybe if I use soul trap whilst enchanting I can preserve part of the soul to dual enchant my boots with Muffle and a cold resistance, and strengthen my chest piece with some Light Armour enchantments, maybe I can squeeze out more of… " I cut myself off when I realise that I've descended into babble, in Dwemeris no less. I glance up to see both elves in the Drunken Huntsman staring at me in utter confusion.
"Ah, I apologize… What's your fee, then?" the Dunmer shakes herself out of her stupor and smirks. "five hundred." My first thought at that is: Hey, I can afford that! My second: Will she even want to travel with me? "You know… Travelling with me might be quite boring. I get lost in thought a lot, and I'm not planning to destroy any vampire covens again any time soon." She merely laughs, the first time I ever heard her laugh.
"You, boring? I highly doubt it."
…
"You, able to enchant items? I highly doubt it."
I nearly growl at the Court wizard as he stares down at me quite literally. I cross my arms and jut my chin out in defiance. "You will sell me three filled soul gems. I will enchant my items." I tilt my head with a small sneer, even as the mage narrows his eyes at me and hands me three filled common soul gems in exchange for the amount of coin he'd told Jenassa about last evening.
"So, you're the reason a highly irate Dunmer came by asking for price lists last night." The mage comments even as I ignore him in favour of placing my chest piece on the enchanter. I knew how to add an extra effect – the trick was which part of the item you enchanted. For this piece the outside leathers will be enchanted with some Light Armour Fortification, whilst the inside trimming would soon give me an increased healing factor.
As I place the common soul gem and the items in the right places, I cannot help but think, a little vindictively: Just you watch me, old human.
Farengar falls silent as I take my sweet time enchanting. The boots next, with the enchantments I'd thought up the night prior. Then, my bracers, Lock picking Fortification as well as ensuring a better grip and harder swing with my axes. As I finish, sweat on my brow and three destroyed Soul gems on the arcane enchanter, I grin victoriously. "That." I tell the mage that has stood over my shoulder the entire process. "That, is how you enchant armour. The trick is Soul trap. If you were as smart as you proclaim yourself to be, you'd have taken notes of a forgemaster's apprentice at work." At that, I turn slightly sour. "Though… my uncle could have done better, I'll admit that freely."
The look on the mage's face was worth every last drop of sweat to make the enchantments as powerful as I possibly could. Once back at the Drunken Huntsman, I change into my new armour, the enchantments glowing faintly, visible only to the trained eye. I march downstairs proudly. "That old man Farengar never saw me coming." I can't help but quip as Elrindir comments on my strutting.
The Bosmer just shakes his head with a bemused expression.
I sit down eventually. "I've decided that I'm leaving in two days." I mention offhandedly. "And I've decided that I'm not feeling up to travelling all by myself." I eye Jenassa with a smirk forming on my face. "Dangerous roads, and all that."
She smirks right back. "I doubt that I need to give you my usual spiel." I lift my tankard at her. "Try me."
Elrindir chuckles from his usual spot behind the counter as Jenassa leans in closer from where she's sitting. "I am a lethal instrument, yours to command for a modest sum. I suggest you hire me before one of your enemies does." She says in a low voice, dangerous and enticing, probably meant to seduce. My eyes go wide in surprise despite myself. "Consider yourself hired." I drawl, wiggling my eyebrows, "This might be fun." Who am I kidding? This is absolute hilarity. Not the good sort, then again, I'm not really sure what sort.
"When I first met you, you called death an art." I remember out loud. "I wonder what masterpieces you'll create with any bandits that cross our path." I add somewhat teasingly, knowing that I'm fully capable of joining in on the 'creating of a masterpiece' with my dual axes. She grins ferally. "In two days, we leave for Falkreath." I nod, finishing with counting the coins and passing them to her. It speaks of her trust in me as somewhat-friend that she doesn't check the amount.
Two days later, I'm saying goodbye to Elrindir, Carlotta and Adrienne. I give the blacksmith a broad grin and a wave as we pass through Whiterun's gate. My armour and weapons in place, my knapsack full of potions and produce, and Jenassa striding next to me.
I smile as I once again find myself outside city walls, in front of a seemingly endless world. The rush that washes over me never seems to fail putting a grin on my face.
Jenassa seems equally eager, and we quickly start moving, planning to pass through Riverwood quickly and avoid Helgen altogether, since whilst it might seem like the shorter road, it actually takes more time since the Imperial security around Helgen is so tight that it might take two days to get past the town, stay at the inn notwithstanding.
Luckily for us, we find no trouble on the road, aside from some wolves that I can deal with almost easily by now. I'm picking alchemy ingredients left and right as we walk up the path to Riverwood, listening to Jenassa's occasional comments.
One such example: "There's dungeons to traverse and crypts to explore, and you go picking flowers." I'd rather have the potions to traverse said dungeon without meeting Sithis, thank you.
"I visited Falkreath before. Death has settled in that hold, sera. I hope you're not planning to stay too long." At this, I glance at her over my shoulder. "What do you mean by that?" She huffs, but explains anyway. "Falkreath has been the site of many bloody battles throughout history. They boast the largest cemetery in all of Skyrim, though I do not know if that is something one should wish to boast about. The locals even named all their stores and tavern after death and related business." I hum thoughtfully. "That…Actually sounds pretty interesting. Does the god…Orkay? Arkay? Have a large presence there?"
"I would think so. There's a shrine to Arkay in every hold capital, though." She says after a while, and we speak no more words until we reach Riverwood's only Inn, the Sleeping Giant.
There's a surly looking man behind the bar, a woman that definitely doesn't strike me as a normal civilian, the resident – and by now, I think standard – drunk, and a blonde bard that looks like a pompous prat. Much like that one Stormcloak sympathiser back in the Bannered Mare. Otherwise, it's the standard setting for a Skyrim establishment, all broad beams and oversized but necessary fireplaces.
"We got rooms and food. Drink, too. I cook. Ain't much else to tell." Says the surly man, cleaning out a tankard before grunting, "I'm Orgnar." I give him a small nod. "Do you have two rooms available?" He shrugs, eyes moving behind me to where the woman I noticed earlier is sweeping the floor.
I can feel her eyes boring into my back, but Jenassa doesn't seem to have taken note of the odd phenomena. "Need a room, talk to Delphine. She owns the place." He makes a jerking motion with his head towards the fair-haired Breton...Nord…Whatever. Humans all look alike anyway. I take it as an excuse to take in her appearance properly, assessing her threat level even as she looks at me unflinchingly through narrowed eyes, I can see the confusion in them.
No, this is no normal innkeeper, if she even is one at all.
Nobody who owns an inn has that many stress lines and old battle scars peeking from their sleeves and collar. I walk up to her cautiously, and by now, Jenassa is observing the blonde shrewdly, no doubt having caught on to my unease. "Two rooms for the night."
"That'll be twenty septims." I wordlessly hand over the coin, letting her show Jenassa and I to our rooms. Before she can leave, I decide to take a gamble. "You're no innkeeper." Instantly, she goes on guard, a hand twitching to her side. No innkeeper, indeed. That's a warrior's reflex. I give her a bland smile. "It's none of my business. Don't worry. Just wanted to test my hypothesis." I shrug off my cloak, leaning my axes against the wall in an obvious way – saying I'm not a threat to her, for now.
The food is atrocious, and I delicately take my bowl outside only to dump it in the bushes when nobody is looking. I still have some rations left – they'll spare me stomach troubles. I wake before sunrise, rousing Jenassa before haggling for some cheap supplies and taking off as fast as possible. The woman, Delphine, is worth more thorough investigating. But for now, I've overstayed my welcome, if her venomous, intimidating glare was anything to go by.
…
Falkreath's rich forests hold much game, but even more dangers. Frostbite spiders, bandits, thieves, wolves, sabre cats – there's no end to them, and though I can hear and see Jenassa's great enjoyment, I find myself more frustrated and paranoid at any and every of the slightest whisper of the trees. I do not like fighting at all, I only fight and kill because I must protect myself, as Ma's trainer told me. If I wanted to be a warrior, I had to find a reason to fight that was beyond myself. I'm obviously not suited to battle, since I doubt I'll ever find such a rea – SPIDER!
I jump aside as the poisonous web shoots towards me, even as my guard draws her blade with a bloodthirsty grin on her face. I take a few precious seconds to sigh and roll my eyes even as my axe completes its deadly arch, severing the head of a second spider creeping up on us. Here we go again – we'll never reach the city at this pace!
I'm proven right once more, as it takes us a week to reach a city only four days from Whiterun. By the time the now annoyingly familiar fire-hazard wooden houses come into view, the gods have decided to make our lives miserable with entire lakes' worth of water pouring down around us, making the ground we walk muddy and treacherous, limiting our sights and cloaking the world in a dull grey.
I'm grumbling a litany of Dwemer curses under my breath as I trudge through the mud, Jenassa silent as she follows a few paces behind me, catching me on the occasions that the floor decides to trip me via tree roots or slippery slopes. This… I'm miserable. I want mead and a dry place to rest my feet.
The amusement coming off of my guard in waves doesn't help my mood any. "By Xrib's forges, finally!" I exclaim as I spot the gates of a city just down the road. Jenassa chuckles lowly, grabbing my arm and dragging me back up when I misstep once again in my enthusiasm, nearly falling flat on my face.
The first place I search is the Inn, to dry my feet and eat something warm, though I'm running rather low on coin. Jenassa insists on paying for her own meals, so I suppose I should count that minor blessing for my purse. She's the first to enter Dead man's Drink, looking for all the world like she's done travelling for life, weary and haggard and like a drowned cat. I'm certain I don't look much better, myself.
A bard is playing 'Ragnar the Red'. Honestly, what passes for music here would have the musicians back in Nchuand-Zel cry their hearts out – preferably in an entire two-hour Opera. No taste in music at all – the bard's college is equally ridiculous. I bet none of them ever thought of incorporating music in traps or as children's entertainment.
I grew up falling asleep to the soft tunes of my Ma's expert fingers caressing the strings of her harp. These humans never evolved beyond a lute!
But I bite my lip and hold my tongue, knowing that the rain is merely making me more irritable than usual. I shake out my hair slightly, running a hand through it to get the wet strands out of my face when I catch the eye of a young lass, maybe my own age. "Shor's bones! A handsome Mer in Falkreath!"
Over by the fire, Jenassa snorts and chokes on her mead. I give the she-elf a subtle glare, even as the tips of my ears burn. A tanned man sitting at a nearby table chuckles as well. "Now, Narri, leave the poor lad be! Looks like he and his friend got caught in the storm outside." He lifts his ale at me, and I smile weakly.
"Aye, you'd think a Daedra decided to drop a lake on us poor mortals just for misery's sake." Jenassa sighs, huddling as close to the flame as a Dunmer can – meaning she'd be sitting in it if not for the risk of setting her armour on fire in the process. "Oh shush, Valdr. Go hunt down a bear." The young woman, Narri, says snippily. "Nothing interesting ever comes along here. Except for that Stormcloak band two days ago. Wonder what they were doing on Imperial territory in the first place." She adds, musing to herself as she returns to her work.
I eye her curiously at the comment. Stormcloaks? This far into Empire territory? That cannot end well. I hope Ondolemar won't be put on their case. I frown slightly, thinking about one of my first friends, one in a very troublesome situation. I wish I knew how to help him without getting the entire Thalmor forces on our tails. That can't be fun.
I approach the innkeeper, a woman that I try to identify – Redguard? Must be. I don't give a Skeever's ass about her heritage, but the people here make a big deal out of it. Giving her a tentative smile, I watch as her eyebrows rise slightly. "Welcome to Dead man's Drink, traveller." I chat with her some more, finding out her name is Valga, as well as what must be every rumour and piece of gossip around Falkreath hold.
I buy a bottle of Black-Briar mead from her, which is several coins more than it is in Whiterun, I find. The Jarl likes the type, and since I'm planning to visit every interesting building around, I might as well offer the man some. My uncle's friends seem to have many similarities to this… Jarl.
Balgruuf, whom I haven't spoken to personally, already seems to be a lot more capable than this man I've not even met. "Jenassa?" She glances up and I grin at her, looking content as a cat to sit right where she is.
"I'm going to visit the general store to sell off those items we gathered along the way. Then I'll go to the alchemist to restock on my potion's supplies and craft some new potions. You'll find me there if you need me, as you can stay here if you want." She nods, taking a swig of her mead. "If you don't mind, I'm fine right here. If you're attacked for any reason, just yell." She waves me away, and I let out a mock-affronted huff at the dismissal, secretly glad to be out on my own for a bit.
Jenassa has redefined the meaning of 'watching someone like a hawk' for me. It's unnerving for longer periods of time. The rain still dampens my mood, but not enough to deter my steps as I search around town, finishing the tasks I'd set out for myself. The rain lets up sometime whilst I'm busy making health and stamina potions – simple recipes, but lifesavers.
I take a leisure walk through town after I'm done, visiting the cemetery briefly, but leaving right afterwards at a stray thought that makes the cold suddenly near-unbearable. My people never got proper burials.
On my way to the Jarl's longhouse, I run into a haggard looking man, Thadgeir, who sounds so hurried and exhausted and filled with grief that I can do nothing but accept the urn and turn back the way I came, handing over the ashes of the man's precious person to the priest at the temple of Arkay, a haven of calm compared to the rest of the uneasy city.
Then, of course, fate decrees that I run into the jarl himself. The man, carrying nothing but a self-important air and an iron knife, clad in fancy clothing and wearing a bejewelled circlet far below Dwemer noble standards, stares at me for a few moments.
"Yes? What is it that you want?" He asks somewhat rudely. I raise a single eyebrow. "Do you have any work that needs doing?" He quite obviously looks me up and down, and I see the dismissal in his gaze. "Work," he says, "I demand tribute before you can even be considered for any real tasks. How about… a drink? None of that local piss, mind you. Real Black-Briar Mead, fresh from Riften."
I nearly want to laugh out loud, but I settle for a shit-eating grin as I pull the bottle from my knapsack with a flourish. "Look no further. You have good taste, my jarl." Honningbrew is better. I think inwardly, watching the man as he takes the bottle from me with surprise all over his face. "Well… That's… Huh. Now that's something I like to see. You might be of use to me after all." He pauses as new raindrops start falling down around us. "Meet me at my hall later as soon as possible. I have a job you might be interested in."
I remain standing for a few more minutes after he leaves, wondering. Who made this inexperienced, egocentric brat the leader of a hold?
A/N: Extra early update! Why? Because I felt like it! Also I do not like the amount of drama in the previous chapter. So here you go!
