Ralof, of Riverwood
He looked out at the farm from horseback. It was of medium size, with a mill, some small fields and a cosy farmhouse in the off to a side. There was a small carriage, presumably for taking produce into Rorikstead, but the horse was gone. Ralof looked over and noticed that it was being pulled by a Nord woman. A plough was attached to it. There was a boy, of eight or nine near it, playing idly.
Ralof spurred his horse down the slight hill road that led to the farm from Rorikstead, a mile or two distant. As he got closer he noticed the woman more.
She had long, smooth brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail that fell down her back. She had a slim figure, with a big chest and nice legs, as Ralof saw from under her dress as she struggled with the horse. Her face was small, with clear blue eyes, similar to Jon's, Ralof recalled, but without the raw power. Her smooth skin was tanned, the sign of a peasant.
The boy was obviously Jon's son. He was tall, still loomed over by his mother, but he was clearly going to be a figure to reckon with later. His hair wasn't black like Jon's, rather a deep, dark brown; a mix of both parents. He had blue eyes (how could he not with parents that shared the same colour), but in Jon's shade: bright with silver flecks. His face was his mothers though, clearly he was going to be handsome, but he was saved from the fate of pretty by the features of his father, such as Jon's brow and mouth. He was running around his mother playfully.
The woman, who must have been Ysold, looked up as Ralof approached, still on horseback. She reached for a yew bow by her side and the rebel realised that he must cut an imposing figure, with a dagger at his side and a greatsword, visibly hanging by his horse's saddlebags on the left side. On right hung a bow, with a set of steel arrows, all courtesy of Jon. He was also wearing jerkin and mail, which he had had repaired at the local blacksmith in Rorikstead before coming here. He had left his Stormcloak blue wrapping in his saddlebags, with his other clothes and provisions. On his legs were fur boots, and on his arms gleamed steel bracers, lined with dark fur.
He dismounted quickly, trying to remove the negative image, his blond hair blowing in his face.
'Are you Ysold, wife of Jon Solitude?' He called, as he approached.
'Aye.' Her voice was pleasant, not amazing, but soft. He didn't drop the bow though. 'Who are you?'
'A friend of your husbands.' Ralof supposed that was true. He had only known him for a month, but they had got on well in that time. 'I have a letter for you.'
'From Jon?' A look of hope flashed across her pretty face, to be replaced by suspicion.'
'I didn't open it, but I assume Jon left you a message in it.' Ralof knew Jon well enough to realise that there was probably a hidden sign in the message to identify it. Ralof came up to her and handed it over. She gave the bow to her son, who was too small to carry it properly and began to read quickly, a rare skill for a farmer. Ralof himself could only barely read. Ralof noticed the boy stealing glances at his dagger, and more specifically, his greatsword; hanging from his nearby horse.
'Here boy.' Ralof motioned. 'Would you like to hold a greatsword?'
The boy looked hesitant, but started forward.
'Alsfur. Stay here.' Ysold told her son, before looking at Ralof. She looking happy. 'You're right. It was from Jon. He says he's in Skyrim. Where about, traveller?'
'Please call me Ralof;' he told her. 'I carried this letter from Whiterun.'
'Thank you. Please call me Ysold, of Rorikstead. You said you're a friend of Jon's?'
'Yes, that's right. We fought a few battles together and I accompanied him to Whiterun.' Ralof told her. A few battles was a bit of an over exaggeration, but still.
'You fought in the Dragon Blades?' She asked.
'No, our friendship is more recent than that.'
She nodded, thoughtful. The strain on her face had resided a little bit. 'Will you be a guest under my roof?' She asked Ralof politely.
'I couldn't. I have a room in the inn up in Rorikstead.' Ralof declined.
She nodded, impressed that he hadn't accepted the offer in the absence of her husband, who was still obviously alive. 'Give my regards to Mralki and Erik.'
'I will.' Ralof noticed Alsfur still looking at his weapons. He looked at Ysold, who nodded. 'Alsfur, would you like to see my weapons?'
With the acceptance of this stranger by his mother he gained confidence and nodded vigorously.
'Come here then.' He led the boy to his weapons, and began to show him the greatsword. As the boy struggled to lift it Ralof looked around at the farm. He could sympathise with Jon's plight now, especially with a wife like that, he mused. No! Ralof wasn't a backstabber and certainly not a rapist. In any case, Ysold was far too loyal to Jon. He pushed the idea firmly to the back of mind and resolved to leave before he did anything stupid. He turned his attention Alsfur, and helped the boy try out his helmet.