Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4…

Chapter Warning(s): Emotions. Panic attacks. Discomforted!Jenassa. Pain. Angst. Suffering. Coping with loss. Drama. Characters finally admitting that they're still a teenager who is Not Happy and Not Ready For This Shit.

A/n: Keep an eye out for some foreshadowing, too ~

Last time…

She chuckles. "I saw you enter the city earlier, could've sworn you were a sellsword. Not many other folks braving the roads these days." I grumble under my breath and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Many people seem to assume that's my profession these days. Before long, I'll get into serious trouble, I just know it." She smirks at me. "Somehow, I doubt that'll be true. People will look for a strong and tall Nord to solve their problems, not a squirt like you." I let out a mock-affronted gasp, holding a hand over my heart with theatrically wide eyes. "How dare you say such a thing! But really," I continue in my normal, deadpan voice, "Need a hand?"

Chapter 8 – Impossibility in Skyrim…

Adrianne and I somehow just… click. Not bad at all, not all humans are annoying or simple, it seems. Guess Da had a point after all.

Ulfberth, her husband, is a little anxious about me at first, coming close to bodily threatening me before I take Adrianne aside and, mumbling only half-coherently, explain to her that I'd sooner be interested in Ulfberth himself than her. The next morning, his disposition is a whole lot more pleasant. I wonder why. My people have plenty of problems with my sort, why are these humans different? It bears further investigating… Though I'll probably put that off until I'm already in too deep.

I stay at the Drunken Huntsman, since Elrindir is far more pleasant than Hulda, who gives me disapproving and even disgusted looks whenever I enter the Bannered Mare. Apparently, she does not like 'Half-breeds' like myself. They are so open about some things, but their ridiculous notions about RACE, ugh… Am I like that? I resolve right then and there, outside on the steps to the Bannered Mare, that I'll try to fix that. I don't want to be treated as inferior, and yet I often catch myself belittling them. They probably wouldn't like it either if I mentioned my opinions out loud.

Hulda and the entirety of the Grey-Mane family and Companions, or so it seems. Whenever I pass a member of the Companions as I go about my daily business, I suffer their venomous looks and honest-to-Sithis growling. The Gray-Mane family is more accommodating, probably because the Battle-Borns like me for the sole reason that they think I pissed off the Gray-Manes and they think I'm close enough that when I go whine to Idolaf, they'll jump to my defence in a violent manner.

To be fair, they'll take any excuse to mess with the Gray-Manes, so I suppose it's not far from the truth.

Luckily for me, there's plenty of people in Whiterun who do not mind having an errand boy as well as handyman nearby to help them. Adrianne and I quickly become fast friends, and Carlotta and her daughter give me better deals and friendly conversation after a most… memorable occasion.

"You need to leave Carlotta alone."

"Why, are you interested? Unfortunately for you, that fiery widow is mine. She just doesn't know it yet…"

"…She's a widow? A widow, supporting her daughter, and you keep on making clearly unwanted advances towards her?"

"I'll conquer her like a true Nord would conquer any wild beast!"

…

The sound of a fist breaking a nose has never seemed so satisfying.

Mikael has been giving me dirty looks, but he barely leaves the Bannered Mare and I barely enter it, so I can deal. The bandages around his face since Danica and Arcadia both just happened to be 'out of healing potions' are an added plus.

Adrianne even send me up to Dragonsreach once, to deliver a Greatsword to her father. I'd had a small chat with Proventus, but I don't think we'll ever become fast friends – he is too content to remain inactive in the civil war and wait for the enemy to move first. A stupid reasoning. One of these days, this hold will be attacked. And if his daughter's life, living so close to the gates, became an uncertainty, then what will he do?

It's not my place to get involved in the Jarl's court. I lean back in my chair, nursing a bottle of wine in the Drunken Huntsman.

I laugh along with Elrindir as he talks about a hunt gone wrong. It's evening, and I've been in the city for three weeks now, helping Adrianne and the townspeople as much as I can. It's nice to have plenty of friendly faces around, dulling the ache of loss settled deep in my soul by filling the hole my people left behind with laughter and smiling new faces. The Bosmer cleans out some tankards with a rough brush and soap, and Jenassa, the mercenary for hire that also stays here, sits on the only other barstool available, listening and nursing a bottle of mead.

Honningbrew is still my favourite. Black-Briar mead tastes like distilled swamp fungal pods. "So, Fjaldi, have any interesting stories to tell about yourself?" I snort into my drink, descending into a coughing fit.

"What kind of story?" I ask after I'm done coughing, my voice still a tad hoarse. "Well," the Bosmer scratches his chin, leaving soapy streaks behind, "Ever been on a hunt?" I shake my head, thinking deeply before – "Aye, I hunted once." I chuckle slowly, thinking back on all the blood and corpses. "It was successful, but terrible nonetheless. Not sure if it's a story to tell over some good quality mead and a warm meal."

"Nonsense!" Anoriath exclaims from where he sits close to the fire, warming up from the rain. "Terrible stories are perfect to talk about when you're warm and sated!" I grin weakly. "Well… As you know, I hail from Markarth. This particular little hunt took place in Morthal, however. I passed through there after visiting Solitude, you see? It all started with this burned-down house and the story of a young girl dying in a fire…"

As I continue to weave the story, I can tell that they believe me, which makes me happy – it's quiet unbelievable, when I think back on it. I leave out the parts where I spoke to Helgi, instead mentioning 'proof' that I found. I don't gloss over the gory facts of the vampire coven, though, nor do I lie about nearly becoming a vampire myself. I get shocked exclamations and horrified gasps, but also newfound respect… I think. I've never been one for respect myself.

"…All in all, a successful vampire hunt, I'd say." I take a swig of my nearly empty bottle. "Why didn't you shoot them with a bow?" Elrindir cries out after I'm done, and I can't help but laugh out loud. "Me? Use a bow? If I want to shoot myself in the foot, certainly, friend! If you want a bowman, you need my cousin Mellte. He was brilliant. Could shoot a moving target from sixty paces!"

The three elves all exchange looks. "Was?" Anoriath asks softly after I notice the glances. I give him a humourless grin. "Was. Lost everything I had in a single night." I confess, barely above a whisper. Then I smile again. "Speaking of Mellte though, you guys should hear about the one time he and I tried to sneak away whilst my mother was still -"

How long have you been asleep?

"awake." We fill the time with meaningless babble and more stories until at some point, the unanimous decision to retire is made.

That night, I once again have the oddest dream, and now I manage to remember bits and pieces.

A Dwemer is standing in a central chamber of some ruin I can't recognise, the corners vague and distorted, shrouded in dark blue mist. He's holding something in a death grip, standing with his back to me. All around me, machinery buzzes and hisses as he starts laughing. I try to get closer, but my body seems frozen, locked in place. I glance down to see heavy chains around my wrists, my ankles, my neck, and they rattle. "Soon…" the strange Dwemer whispers, beard heavy with clicking beads and skin a sickly grey as he turns.

His eyes are blinding as the sun.

I shoot up in bed and the sun is barely rising, but I know that sleep will elude me. Begrudgingly, I get up, tired and chagrined at the dream… nightmare? A deep breath. What in the mines was that?

Later, as I work on some scaled boots at the workbench, Jenassa approaches me. I smile at her amiably. "If you need any armour, Adrianne or Ulfberth have some good pieces inside." She crosses her arms, and I can see the muscles clearly defined under her grey skin. No doubt about it, this elf in leather armour is a warrior through and through. I'd also quickly taken note of the way she held herself and her… darker tendencies. I liked her, but I'd be lying if her undivided attention didn't make me slightly nervous when she had a particular glint in her eyes – this particular glint, in fact.

"You have a warrior's soul, sera." She says first, and I frown, not comfortable with where this is going. "No. I am a smith. The son of a scholar and an Ani- a craftswoman. I a way have with weaponry and armour because I have long studied the ways in which they are created." I strike the material on the bench with the exact amount of force needed, as I'd been trained not to let any disturbances ruin my work from that very first dagger. Inwardly, though… Did I just mess up again?

"Only an idiot would create that which they know not the purpose of." I add under my breath after a few good hits, the Dwemer saying fitting quite well. I would never make a crossbow just for show, after all. Not with all those humans fighting each other. Louder, I say: "If that was all…"

"They say you are a half breed." The Dunmer says in a low voice, and I spot Adrianne closing in from the smelter. She's back me up in a second if this turned sour. It relaxes me slightly. "Yet, I see no resemblance to any race I've seen. And I have seen all races that walk Tamriel. The closest resemblances would be Breton, Bosmer, or Altmer. But your build is too broad to be Breton in nature, even mixed. You don't have the light build, brown skin, or inborn skill in archery as Bosmer do. You are also too short and too pale to be Altmer. What are you, really?"

I take in a shuddering breath, straightening. I might lose any and all standing I've gained in this city if word got out. I'd be marked crazy or drunk, as I was back in Markarth. "I am Fjaldi dû Bthardamz." I turn to face her, knowing full well that Adrianne is within hearing range. "I am… Lost." The smile on my face is bitter. "You wish to hear the truth, but the truth you will deny." I state matter-of-factly. I turn back to the workbench, briefly closing my eyes in grief. "Leave me be, surface-dweller." I bite. Stop asking.

"What was that word?" Adrianne asks somewhat hesitantly, and I instantly feel ashamed when I see her giving me a wary, distrustful look. "It means, literally translated, 'you who dwells above the ground'." I tell her, preparing myself for the disbelief and mistrust. And Jenassa will tell Elrindir, who'll tell Anoriath, who'll tell everyone at the market...

I don't really want them to hate me. Damn, I'm already attached? Some people show me a smidgen of kindness and I'm already attached? I need to step up my game. I bite my lips anxiously when the expected response doesn't come. Instead, both women exchange looks of contemplation.

"A race of Mer, with the pointed ears… Who speaks another language… Who calls other races 'those who live above the surface'…" Adrianne enunciates slowly, as I sense my ears twitching and my eyes widening more and more in panic as Jenassa continues: "There's only one race I know who fits that. The Dwemer. Well, there's been crazier things in Skyrim." My breath catches in my throat as they turn on me like two children solving a puzzle door with disabled poison darts for the first time. I stand frozen, unable to tear myself away from their searching gazes.

My reaction gives me away. "Impossible…" Adrianne breathes, and I can't help but flinch violently even as I drop the tools in my hands. Impossible. I wish it were. I force a smile on my face, feeling my chest constrict and my eyes water. "I know. Forget it." I choke out, before swiftly walking towards the Drunken Huntsman. "Wait, Fjaldi!" she calls after me, even as I pass through the doors and head straight for my room, infinitely glad for the door as I shut it without a sound and turn the lock, burying myself under the covers.

Like a child. Screw this bullshit. I want my Ma.

When Calcelmo and Aicantar first made the connection, it hadn't hurt at all. Now… Now… Now I'm… Gods damnit, I'm a strong Dwemer, I can't cry at every damn opportunity. The tears flow down my face freely as I choke back my tears. I bury my face in my hands, imagining my mother's arms around me. Imagining her soft, firm touch around my shoulders only serves to make me cry harder. I don't want to be alone again. Why did they have to find out? They're going to ridicule me and I'll have to leave and -

Someone bangs on the door. Adrianne. "Fjaldi dû Bthardamz, you unlock this door right now young man!" I let out an almost surprised snort, quickly grabbing a cloth to stop my nose from flowing as I stare at the door, wide-eyed for a few seconds. She sounded exactly like Ma just now. "Fjaldi! Let us in, please!" She calls, sounding like she's holding back tears herself.

"No. You don't believe me anyway, nobody I care about does, leave me alone!" I snap, voice muffled by the covers I wrap myself in like a watertight package of Boiled crème treats. Then I hear the second voice, Jenassa, yell something down the stairs. "Elrindir, Fjaldi owes you a new lock!" Then:

"Step aside, silly girl, let me open this." I cower even further under the blankets and furs, turning my back to them for good measure. Aicantar and Calcelmo know and believe me… But they're not even friends. More like tutors, a distant acquaintance that sees you as research material rather than a person.

I stare blankly at the wall ahead even at I hear the lock click and the door open. Footsteps come closer, and then someone is crawling onto the bed next to me, a pair of arms encircling my shoulders. "I believe you," Adrianne mutters. "Crazier things happen in Skyrim. Like – Like mammoths falling from the sky. You're barely…" She holds me in her arms somewhat awkwardly, whispering soothing words as I cry, really cry, for the first time since I got here. Skyrim is harsh. I don't like the roads, and the feeling of being vulnerable under the sky, with wild beasts and no warm baths or peace -

Jenassa stands in the door opening and seems a little awkward, but when Elrindir comes up the stairs to ask what's happened she shoos him away.

"You can trust me. I consider you a friend, Fjaldi." The blacksmith whispers softly, drawing circles on my back with calloused, scarred fingers. I turn to putty under the touch, leaning heavily into her but she doesn't seem to mind. "I went to sleep in my bed, it was just another day, nothing strange or anything." I say dully, feeling empty.

…

"Mellte and I shared a room. He was my cousin. We… The last thing we discussed was our future. Then I woke up and I was all… alone." Here, I nearly start bawling like a child all over again, but I only take a deep, shaky breath. Be strong. Endure. Endure. Dwemer always endure hardships.

"For what it's worth, I should not have pried." Jenassa speaks after we spend a while in silence. I slowly move out of my blanket cloak, subconsciously inching closer to Adrianne, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion as she holds me. "I'm sorry for breaking down on you." I croak out. "You're the first not to dismiss it and still see me as a person." The Dunmer woman bristles. "What? Who -"

"Calm down." Adrianne sighs, slowly untangling herself from me. I must look terrible, and red-faced over my breakdown in front of these two I try to fix my hair a little, smoothing out knots and tangles with my fingers. They snicker at my expense, lifting the heavy atmosphere in the room. "You're always welcome at Warmaidens'," Adrianne offers, and I smile. "Actually, I am planning to leave in a week or so. I promised myself to see all the hold capitals before…" Before finding a new place to call home. They seem to understand, with that alien feminine intuition Mellte and Uncle would often debate, discuss and marvel about.

"A week? I better get your armour fixed then." Adrienne smiles, poking at a hole in the thick leather. I grimace. "Aye. I still have to ask Farengar Secret-Fire if I can borrow his enchanter and buy some filled Soul gems… if Belethor has any they'll be ludicrously overpriced."

Keep yourself together now. This is enough.

Adrianne nods along with me even as Jenassa crosses her arms. "You're planning to go alone? Where to?" I shrug a shoulder as I undo the clasps of the armour with Adrienne's assistance. I could do it myself, but with two people it's twice as fast a job. "Falkreath. Then I'll pass Helgen, south of here, on my way to Riften. After that, I'll see where the roads take me."

"Alone?" she stresses, scowling. "The roads are dangerous these days. I would not advise it. Did you travel alone before, too?" I tilt my hand in a so-so motion. From Markarth to Solitude I travelled with my friend Ondolemar. Solitude to Morthal I joined up with a man also headed the same way. But aye, from Morthal to Whiterun, I walked alone."

She scoffs, before sharply turning on her heel and leaving. I don't look at the door long – Adrianne is running off with my armour and I'm left in only a shirt and pants, barefoot. Hold on.

"Wait! My boots! Adrianne!" I yell, climbing down the stairs as quickly as I dare, still not used to the small wooden stints used to move up and down here. Wood, why wood?

Elrindir stops me as I'm about to walk out the door with a raised eyebrow. "I just had two very severe ladies tell me to keep you in here until you've calmed down and Adrienne returns. Jenassa is off to do… Something. She looked like it might be murder. I don't know what happened. I don't need to know either. For now, Jenassa paid ahead for you." He gestures to the fire and I shiver, only now noticing the Sun's Dawn chill creeping through the thin wooden walls and I quickly drop down near the flames, definitely not pouting.

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 along with the elf's laughter. Perhaps Whiterun can become my home one day, even though some people don't want me here.

A/N: Did I go too far? I wanted to add a bit to the realism of being thrown into a literally new world. Also, you might notice that not everybody likes Fjaldi. Well, obviously, that was something I do not like about Skyrim. Everyone wants to be your BFF. Not realistic, especially for Mer characters because… Nords. Racism. See chappie 4. I used an Altmer character once, and a Khajit, too. Did I get any crap about being Thalmor or not being allowed in cities? Nu-uh.