Chapter Nine
The morning dawned bright and clear. Riandr rose to the sound of bird song and her brother's soft laughter.
"You don't think I would, warrior?"
Myllian's laugh held amusement and challenge. "Give it a shot, mage. It would be amusing to see how you handle the advance of my blade."
Riandr poked her head out of the tent to find Myllian sitting on the four foot high section of wall that ran along the edge of the broken tower, her legs dangling over the side. Fil stood next to her, peering over the edge at the forty foot drop to the ground. Pale as his imperial complexion was, he grew even paler at the sight.
"I am simply suggesting,' he backed away from the edge, his stomach churning in an uncomfortable way, "that with a gentle push, you might find the drop… unsettling." Fil grinned, his traitorous stomach much improved away from the fall.
Myllian laughed. "Again, mage, I suggest you give it a try…" the smirk she offered him made Riandr laugh.
"She will have your head off before you can touch her, brother," Riandr offered as she moved from the tent to the campfire. "I advise you to back away while you still can."
Fil raised his hands in submission. "All right, I give up. You two win."
"Of course we do." Myllian laughed as she directed her attention back to the path below her.
Riandr grabbed the bowl and scooped some of the remains of the stew into it. She reached for a hunk of bread to eat it with, and then moved to Myllian's side.
"Nice day, boss. Not far from Falkreath either." Myllian pointed to the southeast where the roofs of the city of Falkreath could be seen. "Be there by noon if we don't run into any… delays." She glanced at Fil.
Riandr nodded. "Brother," she paused, waiting for Fil to finish inventorying his potions. "I will leave this decision to you. Straight to Falkreath, get a lay of the city, perhaps score a job? Or rummage blindly through the wilderness looking for a long forgotten tomb?"
Fil shook his head, chuckling. "Well, since you put it that way!"
Riandr returned his grin, taking a big bite out of her stew soaked bread.
"We might as well head for the city." Fil shrugged. "We may find someone in need of tomb raiders! We could pillage the place and make a profit on it."
Myllian turned back into the tower and dropped to the floor. "Well, well! I am impressed. A mage with an ounce of common sense!"
Fil sent her a mocking expression. "Thank you again for your continued love and support of my calling. You are a true Nord, My."
The look of joy on Myllian's face could not have been greater. "Thank you, Fil! That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
Fil glanced at Riandr, holding back his laughter. Neither she nor Fil felt being called a Nord was complimentary, but she had no desire to hurt Myllian's feelings. Apparently neither did Fil as he bit his lip while they gathered their belongings. Working their way out of the tower and down the path, they returned to the road heading south to Falkreath. The early morning sun was warm on their backs and the sound of bird song filled the air. Fil continued his discussion of the properties of the local flora, eager to give Myllian any knowledge he could. Especially if that knowledge might one day save her life.
He paused next to a large outcropping of rock. The boulders hung over the road, forming a ledge high above them and a small shadowed gully by the roadside. The shadows offered a dark, damp environment perfect for growing the mushrooms he needed. He was about to show Myllian the difference between Imp Stool and Namira's Rot when he was startled by the distinct sound of a bow string being drawn. They turned to find a Dark Elf standing on the opposite side of the road, bow drawn, with an arrow notched and ready for release.
Riandr took a second to assess the man. He was tall for a Dark Elf, a good head taller than she. He had dark hair, with a slight auburn tint. Most of it hung free laying carelessly about his shoulders, but the top portion was pulled back in a tail. His face was strong, the traditional enlarged bone mass above his brows, grey skin and ruby red eyes loudly declaring his Dark Elf heritage. He had a thick goatee often favored by Elves in the middle of their long lives. He wore a light brown leather cuirass and boots. His shoulders were fairly broad, his arms and legs muscular, which surprised her. The Dark Elves she knew were thinner, usually more closely resembling Fil than Myllian. All of this Riandr register in the instant it took her to take a step back, into the shadow. There was nothing about the man's stance that suggested aggression toward them. 'Still, best to be safe,' she thought as she melted into the cool shade.
As soon as he heard the bow being drawn Fil had flicked his wrist conjuring a flame spell; Myllian's hand had flown to her axe. Before either of them could charge at the Elf he raised the bow above their heads to the rocky overhang. The arrow sprung from his bow with a sharp twang. It disappeared over their heads and ended its flight with a loud thump. They heard a muffled growl and stared in surprise as the body of a troll dropped off the overhang above them to land at their feet on the stone road, a burning arrow protruding from the troll's chest.
They exchanged glances, embarrassed to be caught off guard and relieved at the Dark Elf's skill. The Elf replaced his bow and bowed from the waist. His tone was casual as he said, "Hello. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Drenn Telvanni. I hope I didn't frighten the two of you; however I did not want that beast attacking. Though from the look of things," he nodded toward the fireball in Fil's hand and Myllian's Dwarven axe, "a single troll would not have stood a chance against you."
Fil flicked his wrists and doused the flames; he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. The Elf was skilled, amiable and complimentary, so of course he instantly liked him. "Not with my friend here, no we wouldn't, but thank you for the help. Name's Fil."
The Dark Elf nodded in greeting.
"Myllian." The warrior nodded but kept her axe in hand.
"Nice to meet you both. I apologize, warrior," Drenn glanced at Myllian, "if I stole your battle. Believe me I had no intention of offending you."
Myllian nodded, only slightly mollified by his apology.
"Are you headed to Falkreath?" Drenn asked.
Fil nodded. He didn't see the harm in offering up that information to the Elf that had just saved, if not their lives, at least saved them from a tedious battle. "You?"
Drenn nodded. "Have some hides to sell and I hope to find work." He moved toward the troll, crouching down, assessing the integrity of his arrow. He pulled a dagger from its sheath by his side, digging around the arrow head, loosening it from the troll's flesh. Fil moved to the opposite side of the beast.
"Do you mind if I remove some fat? Troll fat is very powerful; I always try to keep some on hand."
Drenn nodded. "By all means, take this." He handed the mage his dagger. "I am an archer by trade. Fairly talented one if I do say so myself. But I also dabble in the mystic arts."
Fil motioned to the Elf to help him turn the troll over, exposing his belly. He plunged the dagger in just below the stomach, but above the intestines. Cutting a square of flesh loose, Fil turned the skin over and scrapped as much of the subfat as he could from the beast's flesh, capturing it in a small wooden, wax lined box he carried. He finished by wiping the blade clean on the troll's fur, handing it back to the Dark Elf.
"Dabble? That's all? I find that surprising."
Drenn grunted. "Why? Because I am Dunmer? A Dark Elf?"
Fil shrugged. "Well… yes! Elves are particularly gifted with magic. Elves and Bretons."
Drenn sighed. "My race is… yes. Sadly I was not gifted with that particular genetic trait."
"Really?" Fil's expression held surprise and curiosity. "I didn't know that could happen. I thought it was a bloodline gift. An instinct for your people. Something given to you by…"
Drenn stood abruptly, obviously annoyed. "I know what you think. I know what everyone thinks. 'Must be something wrong with him, no skill with magic? He must have been punished by the gods! A discarded failure!' Believe me; they are never shy in expressing themselves or their amusement at my expense."
"Oh no!" Fil stood as well, shaking his head. "I meant no offense. You just saved our lives," at Myllian's grunt he added, "well… sort of. I truly didn't mean to offend you."
Drenn took a deep breath, calming himself. "Sorry then, friend. I have heard the comments, listened to the disappointment in my parent's tone, seen it on stranger's faces. No Dunmer wants to know me; no Dunmer woman will be with me. It is difficult enough to not have the mage skills my entire race holds, but I am rejected by them because of it. I have grown tired of the rejection. So I wander the wilds of Skyrim, practicing my skill as a bowman and trying to improve my skills as a mage." He gazed down the road as he spoke, his eyes slightly glazed by the memory of centuries past and then with an embarrassed sigh he turned back to Fil. "In any case, the beasts of the wilds do not judge me, though they are learning to fear me," he said with a wicked grin.
Riandr couldn't help the smile that covered her face. That explained a great deal. The widened set of his shoulders, his more powerful arms and legs. This was an interesting Elf! She chose that moment to step from the boulder's shadow.
Drenn froze for an instant, unaware of her presence until then.
His eyes narrowed, surprised at the woman's ability. His Elven eyesight should have pierced the shadow with ease. How had she avoided detection? Was she Elven? Was it magic? Without taking his gaze from her he could tell from their reactions that both Fil and Myllian were not surprised by her presence. She was their companion then and a woman of some ability. Drenn found himself infinitely curious about her. He raised an eyebrow and offered her a grin filled with both the acknowledgement of her skill and his own curiosity of it. He bowed in respect. "My lady, I apologize for my rudeness. I must admit I did not know you were there."
"Well that is the intent of that particular skill." She pulled the hood from her head and smiled at the Elf.
'Not Elven then,' Drenn thought. He took in her pale skin, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It took him less than a breath to register that the mage and this woman were brother and sister. Voice, carriage, bone structure, so much alike, possibly twins? She continued to stare at him, sizing him up and the thought crossed his mind that she did not seem to mind what she saw. It was interesting to find a human with her level of skill, however human or not he was impressed and that did not happen often. With a chuckled he said, "That is a skill I should very much like to learn."
"Hey, Ri…" Fil did not need to finish his question.
"I am Riandr, Drenn. Thank you for the assist with the troll. We are headed to Falkreath, if you would like to accompany us." Riandr offered their companionship, admittedly intrigued by the Mer. She had known many Dark Elves in her life. Most of them made fine thieves. But all of them had depended on their magicka to the point of laziness in their other skills. Riandr had not respected the trait. This Dark Elf though appeared to be different. His lack of magicka making him more driven, more accomplished. Besides his bowman skills might well come in handy if they attempted another tomb on the way to Falkreath.
"Thank you, Riandr. I was heading in that direction myself. I was hoping to find work, perhaps hear rumors of a tomb or cairn. It never hurts to stumble across hidden treasure."
Fil's face lit up at his words. "You too?! I love stumbling across treasure! What are your favorite places? Nord burial cairns? Dwemer ruins? I like the dark places… caves… dungeons…"
The men fell into an easy banter and headed off down the road, their discussion of tomb raiding displacing the soft songs of the birds. Myllian and Riandr followed at a short distance. Their eyes, filled with laughter, never strayed too far from the forest surrounding them and their companion's backs.
At a fork in the road they headed south. The sun, now high above them, was growing steadily warmer. A gentle breeze followed them as they began the decent into the valley where Falkreath lay. The tall forest trees and shrubs lined the road, making a perfect spot for saber cats and bear to hide, however they continued on, unmolested. The road grew considerably steeper, with thick walls of woven tree branch and vine, randomly constructed on either side. Riandr imagined carts had difficulty along the stone road's uneven terrain and steep slope. She expected many a trader had been grateful for the wooden barricades.
It was almost noon when they came upon four large stone pillars near the road. They stood close to one another, rising ten feet into the air. Rounded and coming to a soft point at their apex, they were covered in vines and moss. She did not doubt for a moment that Fil would want to explore whatever mystery they held.
Without glancing her way, Fil and Drenn moved quickly toward the stones, their curiosity peaked. Fil ran his hand down one of the pillars, feeling the warmth of the sun on its moss covered surface. He gestured to a path through the stones that led a little further off the road. Drenn peered through the trees, the outline of a stone ruin beckoning to him through the dappled sunlight.
Fil turned to Riandr, the question unspoken. She grinned at her brother and after rolling her eyes in annoyance, moved onto the path, following his lead. They had not gone far when the trail opened up to expose the face of the ruin. It was a half circle entrance, made of stone. The apex of the opening stood twenty feet high and arched over an open landing. Further in they could see a stone wall with narrow slits that offered a view of the ruin's wooded interior. A small set of stone steps led up to the landing. A thick stone support ran down the center of the landing, splitting the entrance in two. Lying at an unnatural angle on the steps was the body of a Nord man, his scale armor covered in blood.
Riandr dropped into her instinctive crouch. She glanced at her brother, her eyebrows raised. Fil nodded. The sight of the dead Nord was a bit startling; however all it did was confirm that the ruin held a deadly threat. Something they had assumed anyway as all Nordic ruins held some form of vicious creature. It was Skyrim after all. Fil motioned to Drenn to move silently right, to the opposite side of the opening. He chose to move to the left, covering the steps from both sides. Myllian silently withdrew her blade, following Drenn, while Riandr kept close to her brother. They made it to the stairs uncontested. Fil moved to the Nord's side, checking the man's pockets. A few septims and an iron dagger was all he found. Riandr moved to the landing, her steps silent, her senses straining to catch a sound, any sound that might indicate to her what they faced. The loud buzzing of insects made her frown. She turned to Fil, her eyes narrowed and he tried to respond with a grin. He flicked his wrist, flames erupting from his palms. His grin seemed to say, 'Spriggans weren't so bad, if you were ready for them.'
Riandr turned her attention back to the corridor in front of them. It circled around the inner chamber, empty except for the dappled sunlight that shone through the openings in the chamber walls. She glanced at the interior not surprised to find it a haven of flowers and shrubs. Bird's sang from the lone tree that grew another twenty feet out of the open roof of the ruin, butterflies danced in the sunlight that streamed into the ruin's interior, creating a beautiful if almost surreal image of peace and serenity. The sharp buzzing of insects reminded her that the pristine beauty was protected by a vicious killer. Her blades in hand she continued moving forward, Fil at her side.
They had almost reached the back of the ruin, where the largest opening to the interior stood, when the buzzing suddenly grew louder, the only indication that the creature was aware of them. The spriggan stepped from the doorway, her body a twisted mass of roots and thorn, the vibrant green energy of the magicka that gave her life, causing her to glow brightly in the darkened corridor. She turned to Fil, her wooden face fixated on the flames in his hands. Fil mumbled the final words to his spell, readying himself to thrust the fireball into the spriggan's face, when she shrieked. Her body became rigid and she dropped to the ground, landing on her knees, her head bowed. For a moment Fil stared at the creature, confused, and then he saw the second arrow fly from the Dark Elf's bow. The bolt was covered in flame as it embedded itself into the spriggan's back. She let out another agonizing shriek and then crumbled to the stone floor, dead.
Riandr glanced at the dead spriggan and then at the Elf. "Nicely done." She nodded to Drenn.
"Thank you, my lady," he said with a bow.
"Hey! I had my spell ready," Fil grumbled.
Myllian smirked. "Now you know how I feel!"
Riandr moved toward the opening in the wall, her gaze covering the chamber. The buzzing had ceased which led her to believe there had been a single spriggan sheltered here. However it never hurt to be safe. The quiet room gave no indication of another life, so she cautiously stepped into the chamber. It felt as if she stepped into a dream. Sunlight flooded the small dell, its rays of gold covering the glade in warmth. The birds returned to their song, and a gentle breeze played with the ferns causing them to sway to the bird's tune. A riotous explosion of flowers covered the ground in a rainbow of colors, their warm, delicate scent filling the air. She moved to the tree in the center of the room and placed her hand on its truck. The bark was warm and rough beneath her fingers, and she momentarily regretted having to kill its vigilant protector.
It took Fil only a moment to find the chest hidden in the brush. Drenn quickly joined him in opening it and pilfering its contents. Myllian followed Riandr to the tree, glancing around the ruin.
"I must admit, they do create great beauty." Myllian gestured to the garden surrounding them.
Riandr nodded. "They do. I have often wished their nature were not so violent. But they are what they are, manifestations of the forest itself. Most beasts by nature are violent. That is what has kept them alive."
"Not bunnies. They're not violent." Myllian offered.
Riandr laughed. "Possibly, though I have never cornered one to find out."
"Hmm…" Myllian mused; raising her fingers to her mouth she made a gesture that suggested fangs. "They do have nasty, big, pointy teeth."
"Hey, Ri," Fil called before flinging a book at her which she caught with ease. "You want that?"
"A Catalogue of Weapon Enchantments," she read aloud. "Yes, brother. Thank you. It is probably a primer but you never know."
"This looks interesting," Drenn said excitedly, pulling a dark green bottle from the chest and holding it up to the sun.
"Potion of stamina from the looks of it," Fil offered.
"Perhaps the warrior would like it?" Drenn asked the group.
Myllian shrugged. "Sure, if no one else wants it."
Fil reached into the chest, taking out another large bottle. This one was yellow, with a strip of thick iron solder sealing the stopper tightly. "Oh yes, very nice."
Drenn whistled in appreciation, "Potion of strength. Very nice indeed."
"For Drenn, ladies?"
Riandr and Myllian nodded while Drenn tried to protest. "That is too much! I am simply tagging along. It is your expedition, not mine."
"Nonsense." Fil loved playing the part of benefactor. "You killed the spriggan, makes sense that you get the most valuable swag!"
Drenn stammered a thank you.
"I'll just toss these few coins into my bag for Ri and I. Our small share as it were."
Drenn nodded approval and standing moved to Myllian's side. The skeletal remains of a human lay at the tree's base, partially hidden by brush. "It appears a fellow adventurer did not fare as well."
Myllian sighed. "He should have had a bowman like you with him."
"Or a warrior with your skill! Your blade is quite impressive."
"Thanks!" Myllian grinned. "It's helped me lob off a head or two."
Shaking her head and grinning at Myllian, Riandr moved from the ruin, working her way back to the road. Her brother caught up with her, matching her steps, while Drenn and Myllian followed behind, comparing potions.
"You did that very nicely," Riandr murmured.
"Thanks, sis." Fil grinned.
"Good sum of gold?"
"Oh yes. Much more than those potions are worth."
"Hmmm…" Riandr glanced at the forest around them. "I thought as much."
"Besides," her brother added with a chuckle, "I can craft both of those potions myself."
Riandr laughed at that. "You can take the man out of Riften…"
"But you can't take Riften out of the man," Fil finished.
She punched her brother gently in the shoulder. It might seem strange to others, but she was always very proud of her brother. He had a good heart, but even better instincts.
They continued down the road, enjoying a light banter. Nothing else disturbed their journey and it was shortly after midday when they reached the fork in the road that would lead them to the entrance to Falkreath. The road they were on continued south, slowly rising as it worked its way up another mountain. But they took the left path that led down a small hill and into town. A large wooden balustrade covered the entrance to the city; two guards walked its planks high above them, watching as they approached. Another guard leaned against its base to the left of the entrance, for all appearances bored and annoyed. As they approached he stood and moved to block their entrance.
"Did you see a dog out there?" His accent was strongly Nord and his tone belligerent.
'Are all guards the same?' Riandr wondered, not for the first time.
"No," Fil answered politely. "A few wolves, but no dogs."
"Ah well. The blacksmith is offering a reward for a dog he saw on the road. I was hoping you'd seen it. Guess I'll stay on the lookout." He turned from them and returning to his post grunted loudly, "Keep your nose clean while you're here, outsiders."
Myllian clenched her fists at the guard's rudeness, but did nothing. Decapitating a guard would probably land them in jail. Riandr would not be pleased with her if that happened.
Falkreath's main street lay before them. To their right stood Gray Pine Goods, a general store operated by Solaf and Bolund. Brothers to a woman Riandr and Fil knew well and sometimes liked. Fil motioned to the store and Riandr nodded. Might as well sell off what bounty they had and see if the boys might offer up some gossip.
Myllian motioned across the street. "Do you mind if I head to the tavern. I have an awful thirst and I could secure our rooms."
Riandr nodded. "Certainly. Valga is the Innkeeper. Mention you are with me and tell her I will see her shortly. But be careful, she will have you spilling all of your secrets to her in seconds."
Myllian worried for a moment, until she saw the grin playing with Riandr's lips. "Ok, boss. I'll watch myself."
"I think I'll head to the tavern with Myllian." Drenn added. "I have nothing to sell and no money to buy anything but mead!"
"Well put, Elf." Myllian grinned. "Let's go wet our throats."
"After you, fine warrior!" Drenn motioned to the tavern door and they headed off, anticipating a delicious cold quaff.
Fil and Riandr stepped up the wooden walkway and entered the Gray Pine Goods.
It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the store. Solaf stood behind the counter. Bolund stepped towards them, his face clearly displaying his disgust.
"I can't believe we let provincials like you wander Skyrim," Bolund said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Riandr ignored his barbed thrust. Bolund had always been a fool and an ass. Grelka, his sister, had a shop in Riften. Sold arms and armor. Her attitude toward strangers was the opposite of her brother. All Grelka cared about was how much coin you might have to spend, not where you were from or who you supported in this damn civil war. Her personality however, was just as scornful. It caused Riandr to wonder how condescending their parents had been.
She quickly gazed about the room, noting the exits, the valuables and where Solaf and Bolund stood. Bolund moved to the counter near his brother, refusing to be ignored.
"Another day in this graveyard."
"Falkreath is a fine place to be Bolund," Solaf replied.
"Falkreath is where people go to die. We could be fighting! Taking back Nord land!" Bolund said angrily.
"Falkreath is our home, a place where we have good jobs under a good Jarl. Until the war comes to us, we stay put," Solaf said softly, but emphatically. Bolund did not respond, instead he turned and left in a huff.
Riandr quietly registered Solaf's apparent superiority. Fil ignored the exchange, more intent on deciding what he wanted to sell to these obvious Imperial hating Nords. "How are you, Solaf?" Riandr moved to the counter.
"Not bad, Riandr, considering the state of things. Have you seen Grelka? Is she well?"
Riandr nodded. "Last I saw, yes. Frustrated with the economy, but then what merchant isn't?"
"True. Unlike my brother I have no dislike of strangers, met lots of them when I was a Stormcloak. Like my sister I know strangers have money. As do friends." He turned to Fil, grinning. "You sellin' or buyin' Fil?"
"Little of both Solaf. What do you have?"
"Take a look," Solaf offered.
Fil searched through Solaf's fine offering of weapons, apparel, potions and books. The weapons, though of good quality held little appeal to either Riandr or himself. He used his magicka and she would never part with Silence or her Elven blade. Though a Circlet of Eminent Alchemy caught his eye he decided the price was much too high and settled on a couple of grand soul gems and a few lockpicks. They were more for his sister, but it never hurt to have a couple on hand, no matter how pathetic his skill was. He offered up the few pieces he had decided he would sell, knowing full well he would not get a fair price for them. But they were bulky and annoying and he was glad to be rid of them at any price.
When the exchanges were complete, Riandr drew the conversation back to the war. "How does Falkreath fare? The war must be causing a great deal of havoc."
Solaf grumbled. "The Jarl's a good man. He has strong ties to the Empire and he uses them to make sure Falkreath is well protected and trade stays open. By the gods there's a guard on every corner! But most of the town's folk are still Nords, through and through. And we don't necessarily like what's goin' on."
"That's right," Riandr said, hoping to elicit as much information as possible about the status of Falkreath. "You were a Stormcloak, weren't you?"
"I was once, but not anymore. I was wounded in a skirmish up near Windhelm. This was years ago mind you. Now maybe I don't pick up a blade in Ulfric's name no more but I still hold with his ideals. Skyrim is Nord land and we oughta rule it. We don't need no help from the Empire on that account."
Riandr nodded. "I can't say I blame you in that respect. I don't believe a government should have the right to dictate to its people who they can worship," Riandr grew more agitated as she spoke. "Now they sit idle while the Thalmor destroy Talos' temples, take innocent people from their homes and commit atrocities where ever they go!"
Solaf stared at Riandr, surprised at her passion. "But you two are Imperials!"
Fil laughed. "We've never even seen Cyrodiil! We've lived in Riften all our lives. Besides, though my sister dislikes the Empire, it's really the Thalmor that she despises."
Solaf nodded. "Damnable Elves! Damn them to Oblivion I say! First thing Ulfric will do is disavow the White Gold Concordant, reinstitute Talos as a god and drive the Thalmor from Skyrim!"
Riandr nodded. "And not a moment too soon. Good people are disappearing every day while the Empire does nothing."
Solaf grinned at her. "No wonder my sister likes you. By the gods, you're a Nord!"
Riandr laughed. "I am certain your brother would never agree!"
"My brother is a fool. But that's probably not a secret."
Fil smirked. "No. Not really. You heard anything in town? Anyone looking for help?"
Solaf thought a moment. "Heard something about the Priest lookin' for some help. Can't remember why though. We had a murder a little while ago. Mathies and Indara's little girl. Got the guy locked up. Waiting for execution. Horrible thing."
"He murdered a child?" Riandr was shocked. She hoped this had not been a Dark Brotherhood contract. Her cell was mostly dead by her hand, but the other cells? Would they mark a child? The act was not forbidden, but it was generally accepted as unforgivable.
Solaf nodded. "Tore the poor thing to shreds. Barely found enough to identify her. Man's crazy."
Fil glanced at his sister, the hair on the back of his neck rising. "Good gods. That's horrible."
Solaf nodded. "Not much else going on in town. Been quiet, thank the gods. Hopefully the damnable conflict will stay away from here."
Riandr nodded, lost in thought. "I hope so as well. Thank you for your time, Solaf. Good luck."
"You too! And if you see my sister, give her my best! Don't bother to say Bolund does, she wouldn't believe it anyway." Solaf shook his head, grinning.
They stepped from the shop to find the sky had clouded over and a fine rain had started. "Wonderful," Fil grumbled. "Well at least we're spending the night at a tavern."
Riandr nodded. "I agree. I hate being out in the rain." She moved off the wooden planks and across the street toward the tavern. Fil followed her, stepping out of a guard's way as he made his rounds.
The guard turned to Fil and barked, "So you can cast a few spells. Am I supposed to be impressed?"
It took everything Fil had to move on without offering an indelicate response. He suddenly remembered why he had never liked Falkreath. One night would be all he'd spend in this infernal city, then off to the forest, searching for loot and getting out of the way of these damn egotistical, self-absorbed Nords. In their own way they were as bad as the Thalmor. They were just as entrenched in their own traditions and convinced of their own superiority. It infuriated him. He glanced around to see if there might be someone on the street who could read his thoughts. It would not do to anger anyone here. That would only in turn anger his sister and that was a risk he would not take. Riandr was quite forbidding when she was angry. Instead he put on his happy face and focused on the thought of a tasty pint of mead and a warm bed. Images of Hulda flashed through his mind and he grinned. He should try to get his own room, just in case there was a lovely maiden here, looking for a light romance with a dashing mage. He had not spent much time here in the past so he quite possibly did not yet have a reputation! The thought warmed him and he sighed. Given the right conditions, Falkreath might not be so bad after all!