Valley of Promise

Dawn broke across the jagged rocks in a glorious burst of golden rays. Amrondiil sat in his bedroll by the charred remains of the fire, his gaze drifting across the sprawling landscape below. To the north, the tallest mountain in all of Skyrim rose majestically. The mountain was called the Throat of the World, and the title fit. It was taller than everything, and its twin peaks glowed golden-yellow, the snow reflecting the sun's rays across the valley. At the base of the mountain, a small village could be seen. Smoke curled from the chimneys in a dozen houses,giving the appearance of a hazy wall that rose above the quaint place. Sabrina could remember going there once as a youngster with her father.

It had been a happy time. The civil war hadn't started yet, and everyone had been happier. She had been eight years old, and her father had promised that they would go on a trip for her birthday, so they had gone to Ivarstead. Because it was so high up, even though it was at the base of the mountain, the village felt as though it was early spring when it was the middle of summer in places like Riften and Whiterun. She had snuck out of the room early in the morning, and had gone exploring. She had waded into the creek under the bridge and was splashing water on anything nearby that moved when a guard had appeared on the bank. Without thinking, she had cupped her hands and propelled a small tidal wave all over his legs. She could remember the initial wave of fear that had washed over her when she realized what she had done. The guard hadn't minded though. In fact, he took his helmet off and sat down on a rock nearby before splashing her right back. The two went back and forth for a bit before they both broke out in uncontrollable laughter. They had spent the morning playing in the river together, until the captain of the guard appeared on the bridge above them with her father at her side. The two of them seemed to be trying to look very stern, but they both failed. She had never gotten the man's name, but she was sure he wasn't a guard anymore. She may have just left the house and may have looked to be in her late teens, but she was actually thirty-two years old. He was probably in his late fifties by now, which for humans meant he was getting old enough to switch to a more relaxed job.

Now, as she watched the shadows retreat from the hills surrounding the village from her high perch across the valley, she longed to go back. She decided that she would go there before she returned to Riften with the captain's helmet. She shifted her gaze to the dark Elf with whom she had shared her campfire. He still stared out over the valley, his eyes glossed over as though in a trance. He wasn't exactly as she had remembered from the night before. His ruby eyes reflected the sunrise, making it look as though he had fire flickering in dark pools of blood. His skin, while gray, held a youthful quality. She was sure he had been smaller last night though. Perhaps it was the darkness, but she was sure she would have remembered such strong arms. He wore no shirt, and as he rocked slowly front to back, the muscles in his back rippled underneath a multitude of scars. Dark lines crossed his back at odd angles, clearly the result of being whipped. Patches of skin were glossy and raised, sad indicators of burns. She stood and stretched, though only so she could see the front of his body. It too was scarred, though most of these seemed to be cuts and burns. There were no signs of whipping across his chest or stomach.

Amrondiil turned his head and looked into Sabrina's eyes. Behind the steeled expression, she could sense great amounts of pain. A slow smile spread across his face, and she suddenly felt as though she was sitting too close to the fire. Her cheeks reddened, and she looked away, though not for long. She glanced back, and his small smile widened until she could see his perfect ivory teeth. He was quite handsome, she had to admit. He was big, so big in fact, that he put most nords to shame. His face, however, retained his elven genealogy. His jaw, while strong, seemed slightly narrow. His ears pointed at the ends, though not as much as most elves'. Around his strong yet slender face, curly black hair fell. His chin bore a goatee which he had obviously been working on for some time, as it held small braids that worked their way down from his lower lip, resting atop the rest of his thick beard. Scruff grew on his cheeks, evidence of his imprisonment. When he spoke, his voice had a soft tone that hadn't been there before, as though whatever he had been thinking about had affected him deeply. His voice, a pleasant baritone, awakened a new feeling in Sabrina, one that she hadn't felt in years. No, there was no way she could have a crush on someone she had saved. That was ridiculous. But still…

"The sunrise has always awakened a hopeful part of me." Amrondiil's voice interrupted her thoughts. "What is your greatest desire? I know it's an odd question to ask, but you seem to have more hope than most that I've met in my travels."

Sabrina shook her head. "My hopes and dreams have fallen by the wayside since my family died. But I suppose I have some dreams. I'd like to have a place where I can relax. Someplace away from all the politics and the war. That and I would like to find someone to share it with."

Amrondiil nodded solemnly, his curls shifting around his neck. "I know how you feel. Sorry to switch topics, but have you looked the other way on this plateau?"

Sabrina shook her head and craned her neck around to see behind her. Behind her, a valley stretched left and right. A set of ancient nordic stairs wound down between boulders, working their way down to the valley floor. In the west end of the valley, a domed structure rose above an altar. On the top of the dome, a dragon sat, his head inclined, as though he was listening to voices in the cold winter air. The sun broke through the clouds in a dozen places, sending golden shafts of light to illuminate the snow covered ground. Sabrina gasped at the beauty spread out before her. Riften was alive, green, and full of vibrance, but this, this was purity. Serene silence, clean snow-covered landscape, and a perfect image of soft solitude. Sabrina knew immediately that this was the place. This was the place where she could go to leave the world behind.

A clattering of bones broke the silence, and Sabrina scrambled to reach her weapons. She grabbed her dual axes, and tossed one to Amrondiil, who caught it with the awkwardness of someone unused to wielding such a weapon. "Do you have a dagger or something?" Amrondiil croaked. "I find axes to be too unwieldy." Sabrina scowled and handed him her orcish daggers. He sighed in relief, handing the axe back.

There are two ways that a skeleton can come to life and fight those that it encounters. One, a mage that specializes in conjuring up the dead can summon a skeleton to aid them in a fight. The other way is much more ancient. If you had been cursed to become a draugr by the gods, eventually you would lose the flesh and skin that covered your bones. However, since you still had to serve as an undead warrior, your bones would not fall apart, but rather stay together and wander around until a fight broke the connections between the bones. Only when your bones had been sundered could you fully rest in death. Now, side by side, Sabrina and Amrondiil faced the horde of skeletal warriors that clamored up the hill, all of them cursed by the devines to fight until destruction.

The warriors advanced, their bones creaking, resisting the command to move. The skeletons in front gnashed their teeth, challenging the duo to try and kill them. Suddenly, Amrondiil stretched his hand out, and a fiery ball of magic wrapped around the handle of the dagger which it bore. A tornado of fire erupted behind the bony warriors, and a woman spiraled up from the ground. Her entire body flamed, and though it was only half made of what appeared to be charred wood, the flames made her appear whole. She too had fireballs in her hands, and she began throwing them into the backs of the skeletons. A massive shadow swept across the snow.

Above them, a dragon flapped his wings. It's scaly underbelly was sky blue, and glowed faintly as his voice thundered across the mountains. Ice blasted from his mouth, freezing the rest of the skeletons in their tracks. Sabrina, noting the dragon's helpfulness rather than hostility, charged into the frozen skeletons and shattered them with her axes, spinning and hacking like a hurricane of death. The dragon flapped its massive wings, creating billowing clouds of flying snow. His voice rolled out once again, deep and rich, but this time in the common tongue. "I am Iisyolwuld, and I welcome you to my valley. I have watched you, and I have seen who you are. I offer my valley and my assistance as you fight my arch nemesis, the Dragonborn. Meet me at the dome, we have much to discuss."

The elves looked at each other in amazement as the dragon flew back to its perch on the dome. As they walked down the steps and into the valley, Amrondiil talked about the things that he wanted to do to improve the valley, to make it his. Theirs. Snow covered the ground, making the ground slick in places. Sabrina found herself wrapping her fingers around his arm more than once to steady herself, before he finally offered his arm. She took it, somewhat awkwardly, and the two made their way to the giant dome upon which the friendly dragon sat. Sabrina had never thought about it, but dragon's were actually quite the intellectually advanced creatures, smarter even than most nords. Now, to her surprise, she found that the dragon was humming a happy little tune to himself. He actually had quite the bass voice, and his humming sounded quite pleasing.

Two hours later, they found themselves chatting with a rather friendly dragon, who had started telling jokes. Sabrina knew she had to get back to the thieves guild before the sun set, so she said her goodbyes. Amrondiil, wanting to be the gentleman, walked her out of the valley. As they walked, they talked about the future, and what she should do to bring in more people. Finally, they reached the last stair. Amrondiil stepped forward, and his foot shot out from under him. He spun as he fell, pulling her on top of him. They landed with their faces inches apart. His hot breath made her skin tingle, and in his ruby eyes she could see a spark, a small flash of desire. He closed his eyes, and she was about to kiss him when she stopped herself. She had only just met him. She had to get to know him better. She gave him a peck on the cheek and rolled off. They parted ways, her to the thieves guild, and him back to the campfire.

As she walked, she thought about the day. She missed Alek'sir, but she was happy. She had a place where she could go, a place to escape it all. She also had two new friends, one of whom was causing her stomach to flip-flop every time she thought of him. How strange.