Riverwood
"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world. When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped. When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles. When the Dragonborn ruler loses his throne and the White Tower falls. When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding. The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns-" - The Shattered Prophecy
Liquid fire pours down Malenia's throat and she awakes with a sputtering cough. A rough-skinned hand pats her back until her lungs are cleared, followed by gentle words.
"Easy does it, lass. You're lucky to be alive, let alone conscious after what that dragon did to you." His voice, like his hands, are rough but soft. The words of a man used to treating the sick and injured.
Such a tone is comforting to some. For Malenia it brings back terrible memories. Days or weeks with the apothecaries, of hundreds of ointments and treatments tried and failed in vain to cure what cannot be cured. It takes all of her will not to shove the man away on reflex.
The bitter taste of defeat is still fresh, but she would rather taste it a thousand more times, than to suffer under a supposed healer.
Her eyes flutter open and see an old man in robes kneeling over her. His head is bald, his face weather-worn, and he holds a vial of red liquid in his hands, half empty now. They are outside on Helgen's main roadway. There are many other injured men and women surrounding them, all laid out on blankets while tended to by villagers and another younger healer.. Malenia starts to sit up before the man puts a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"Like I said, easy does it lass." he insists.
Malenia cannot help the annoyance in her voice, "You will unhand me at once, or suffer the consequences, healer."
"Lass, if you think some harsh threats and angry eyes are going to scare me off, yer going to have to try harder than that." He laughs. "I've been treating folks in this village since I was a lad. I know what I'm saying when I say you should lie down and let the potion work its magic. You might heal faster than anyone I've ever seen, but you still got clotheslined by a blasted dragon through a building."
"I will make you pay for this indignity." she hisses under her breath, but complies.
The man sets the vial next to her, "You and about a dozen other men here. Take it easy, let the potion work and when yer head stops spinning, drink the rest of it. I'll be back to check an ya in a bit, hopefully with some proper clothes so ya stop flashin everyone with yer goods."
Malenia looks down at herself and sees that past the injuries and bandaging from her battle with the dragon, her nakedness is on full display. The Rot had once claimed any form of indecency she possessed, but with its purge she was now left bare. It was odd to feel shame over such a thing after so long.
The healer chuckles and hands her a blanket, then heads off to tend to the others. After covering herself, Malenia feels a sense of relief. Even under Miquellas ministrations, she has always felt uncomfortable being treated for any form of sickness, regardless of the reasoning.
Better she tend to her own injuries than let another who cannot truly understand the pain she must endure.
Or rather, had to endure. She still marvels that the Rot has so rapidly faded from her form. It is a light of hope she clings to. Anything to avoid dwelling on her defeat by the dragons fangs.
Of course, she cannot avoid such thoughts, not really. The pained moaning of the men and women around her is enough to remind her that despite all her efforts, she failed once more. What's more, her blade is now shattered, and her prosthetic arm lays in pieces beside her. It is now a twisted wreck of unalloyed gold, as shattered and broken as she was upon her defeat.
There was a name, a derogatory title used by her opponents and critics before the shattering. Malenia the Severed they had called her, until she had silenced those critics by blade and word alone. But the title has never truly left her, and the apt description burns her ego. For without her blade, who is she?
No longer is she Malenia the Undefeated, or Malenia the Blade of Miquella. No, with her blade destroyed and her arm in ruins, she is simply… Malenia. The crippled daughter of an absent God-Queen.
That thought stings, far more than it should.
She glances at the vial placed next to her and grabs it with her fleshborn hand. Without a second thought, she downs it, grimacing at the taste. Indeed it does taste like liquid fire, filling her every ache with burning pain followed by a soothing cool relief. It will likely anger the healer if she decides to sit up or even stand now without letting them confirm her health.
So Malenia sits up, clutching the blanket as she does.
"Hey! I thought I told you to lay down!" The healer apparently has eyes like a hawk and is already moving to give her a piece of his mind.
"Leave the lady alone, Jolfur. She's obviously too restless to sit around and wait for her injuries to heal. I can relate." It is General Tullius that saves Malenia from the healer. The left side of the general's face and arm is covered in faint burns, and his hair is notably singed. Yet he walks with a purpose that reminds Malenia of her own times leading the forces of the Haligtree. He has more important things to do than let a healer tend to his wounds. A man worthy of her respect for sure.
The general approaches her and kneels by her side; it's notably awkward as Malenias size means that kneeling or standing they cannot see eye to eye. He manages nonetheless and says, "Don't worry about Jolfur; he means well, but people like us are too impatient to let the healers do their jobs. Malenia, right? I don't know where you came from, but by the Nine am I glad you were here. Me and my men owe you our lives. As do most of the people in Helgen. I've met my share of brave and extraordinary people in my life, but none crazy enough to challenge a blasted dragon to a duel."
And fail, is the unspoken phrase she knows he is thinking. The gesture is appreciated.
"Think nothing of it, General. You could have left me on the road, yet you tended to my wounds and brought me to shelter. Consider it my way of thanking you for your kindness."
"You've got a hell of a way of saying thank you then, miss." Tullius jerks his head towards one of the houses in the village still standing. "Some of my boys are gathering what they can from where your blade shattered. Hadvar mentioned it was a family heirloom, so I figured you might want what's left of it."
"Thank you, general."
Their conversation is joined by Hadvar, who approaches with folded cloth in his hands that he hands to Malenia. "It's not exactly the latest fashion, but it's better than nothing. Hopefully it fits."
Malenia takes the offered clothes with a nod, and the two men turn their backs while she gets dressed. The clothes are very obviously not meant for someone of her size. What might have been a pale dress on a smaller woman is a rough tunic on her. Dark shorts and a hastily lengthened belt fit awkwardly, but are sufficient for the time being. A dark leather cloak with a hood completes the ensemble. It is hardly dignified or refined, but Malenia does not feel like either at the moment.
She remains seated as the two men turn back around. They have been through enough and don't need to continually crane their heads back simply to talk with her.
"You have my thanks, Hadvar." She says.
Then she turns to the general and asks, "What will you do now, General Tullius?"
He seems relieved to be talking strategy, a sentiment she shares. "Well after we gather the wounded and count the dead, me and my men are going to escort the villagers to Falkreath. The Jarl won't appreciate the Legion dropping by with a village of refugees at our back, but it's his damn hold in the first place. After that, I'm heading to Solitude to start readying the legion. If dragons are jumping back out of legend, we need to be prepared. And if the dragons are somehow working with the Stormcloaks… well, this war just got a hell of a lot more interesting."
Hadvar looks at the general with surprise, but it is Malenia that speaks. "Do you believe that the dragon and the Stormcloaks have struck an accord of some kind, general?"
She knows of course that such a thing is not unprecedented. Her mother, after all, had struck an alliance with the dragons of old. Many still worshiped the beast in a vain attempt at tasting a fraction of their power. Yet, Malenia harbored doubts that the Stormcloaks were working with such a beast. It was too single minded in its focus, too certain of the destruction it was causing.
General Tullius strokes his chin, "I'm not willing to put anything past the Stormcloaks at this point. We finally capture Ulfric Stormcloak, have him at the bloody executioner's block, and a damned dragon pops out of nowhere to burn the entire village to the ground? If there isn't any sort of alliance, then Ulfric might be the luckiest damn Nord in Skyrim."
There is some logic to his point, Malenia can certainly see how one might draw that conclusion. But fate has been fickle far too many times in her experience, for her to believe either theory.
General Tullius clearly picks up on her skepticism, and sighs, "But, that's a concern for later I suppose. First I have to survive the trip back to Solitude in the first place."
There's a moment's pause, before he delicately adds, "You know… you are welcome to join us. The legion is always looking for capable warriors, and if you don't mind me saying, you might be the most capable damn woman I've ever seen."
It is a tempting offer. To join a standing army would give purpose, and more importantly, access to resources she would not have alone. It's a generous offer considering she has only just met the general.
However…
"I appreciate the offer, General Tullius. However, I am new to these lands and have no wish to tie my allegiance to any side in this conflict at present. You'll understand that I would learn the land and its people before making such a commitment?"
His disappointment is obvious, but he does not voice it. He merely nods and says, "I had a feeling you'd say that. In that case, what are you going to do then?"
"Find one who can reforge my blade." she says without hesitation.
Hadvar speaks up now, no longer able to remain silent, "Then you should take it to Eorlund Gray-Mane, in Whiterun. His steel is legendary; if there's anyone that could reforge a monster of a blade like that, it's him."
"Then I will start in Whiterun." Malenia rises to her feet now, her path clear. In a manner of speaking.
She looks down at General Tullius, and asks, "General, have you a map or a guide that could lead me to Whiterun? As I said, I do not know these lands yet."
"I don't exactly have many men to spare at the moment." He admits. His eyes narrow in thought for a moment, before flicking to Hadvar. "You there. Hadvar, right? You're from Riverwood if I recall correctly. With a dragon on the loose, someone needs to warn them. You wouldn't mind our guest accompanying you, would you soldier?"
Hadvar brings his right fist to his chest in a salute. "None at all, sir."
General Tullius smirks, "Then you'd best get going, soldier. It's a three day journey to Whiterun from here. The sooner you get on the road, the better."
He turns back to Malenia and nods, "Good luck in Whiterun, miss. Hopefully we'll meet again in better circumstances. Divines watch over you till then."
Malenia bows her head, "And may Queen Marika protect you, general."
They part ways. After one brief stop with the healer Jolfur to confirm that her injuries have healed, Malenia retrieves the shattered remains of her blade from the soldiers who have collected its pieces. It is an undignified state for her blade to be so haphazardly dumped in pieces in a burlap sack, but there is nothing to be done for it. The weight of her blade is enough that it takes two men to heave the remains into a makeshift rucksack.
While it is more fit for a packhorse than for a person, it is all that is on hand that will function for someone of Malenia's statue. In this particular instance, she cannot afford to be picky. So she slings it over her remaining shoulder, and together with Hadvar she sets out from the ashen husk of Helgen into the wider realm of Skyrim.
Her steadily increasing time in Skyrim has impressed upon Malenia that the province is personally offended at the concept of civilization. Though there is a road to follow, it is a rough and beaten thing that the surrounding land threatens to swallow at any moment. The rough hewn stones are uneven and sometimes missing in patches, a far cry from the paved roads of Leyndell or Limgrave. Though she will admit, they are infinitely preferable to marching through the swamps of Raya Lucaria.
The weather, thankfully, does nothing to impede their journey. Indeed, since the dragon's departure, the skys remain clear and the sun shines upon them. In spite of this, the bitter chill of the wind is enough to make Malenia thankful for the cloak. Though she may be resistant to the worst effects of extreme environments, that does not mean said environments are comfortable. Though, as they traverse the mountainside, the weather shifts more in their favor.
What remains of the snow gives way to proper greenery. Towering pines rise around them, flowers bloom in earnest rapture under the suns guidance, and the land is alive with the sound of nature. There is a beauty to this land, this Skyrim. It is very much unlike the Lands Between, yet it is not lesser for this difference. Its beauty is its own, a raw and primal thing that is strangely comforting in its honesty.
Their journey is undertaken in companionable silence, broken occasionally by Hadvar pointing out landmarks on the road. Though he is a soldier and tries his best to remain respectful towards Malenia, it is obvious to her that he delights in sharing his homeland with someone foreign to it. She does not see a problem with this in the slightest.
Past midday, they round a bend in the road and Hadvar points ahead, "We're getting close now. You can see the White River from here. As you can guess by the name, Riverwood is built along it; it's a lumber town, has been for generations. If we're separated for any reason, just follow the river north and you'll hit Riverwood eventually."
She nods but remains silent while observing the river. They have stumbled upon its rapids, a series of short drops that turn the calm flow into a roiling rage of foam. Even from their position, she can see that the river is rich with life. Fish jump from the river and land with less than perfect grace in the water below in great swarms at times. On occasion, a nearby hawk dives from the surrounding trees and snatches one mid air.
"Your land is peaceful, and its inhabitants kind." she notes.
Hadvar stops and looks at her in surprise, "By the Nine, you do speak!"
She looks at him, her face expressionless. Hadvar quickly changes the subject with a cough, "Skyrim can be a beautiful place. But if you're not careful it will punish you. She's a harsh mistress. When the land itself is trying to kill you, there's no point in turning on each other."
There is a note of bitterness in his voice. The civil war between the Empire and Stormcloaks clearly weighs heavily upon him. Malenia thinks for a moment to find something proper to say. She prefers action to words when necessary, but as Miquella constantly reminded her, there were times when words were the only proper course of action. Yet she finds herself with none.
She can only remain silent as Hadvar sighs and turns back down the road. Yet another failure to add to her growing list. It is frustrating, this inability to act in a respectable manner. Though Miquella is the greater speaker of the two, Malenia was certain that she possesses some skill in speechcraft. Her memories are faded, but they are returning and she remembers speeches given to her soldiers, treaties brokered with arrivals to the Haligtree, and passive aggressive sparring at family dinners. Yet she is without words.
Truly frustrating.
Their journey is interrupted only once more by a clearing off the side of the road overlooking the river. In that clearing are three standing stones, carved a material Malenia does not recognize and each taller than her. Each rounded stone has a clear cut circle through its upper half, where dark iron binds it. The lower half holds images of a warrior, a thief, and a sorcerer respectively. Roots overgrow the platform they are built upon, though the stones themselves show no signs of decay. On closer inspection, more intricate carvings are apparent upon the rest of the stone and iron in runes Malenia does not recognize.
Hadvar stops alongside her and admires them. When he sees her curious expression, he says, "These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim."
"What purpose do they serve?" Malenia asks.
"Well if you believe the legends, the stones gave powers to the heroes of old that let them rewrite their fates. I haven't heard of anyone in Skyrim with strange powers of late, though. Present company excluded. If I had to guess, it might be related to the stars. See how each one is carved with the image of a Birthsign?"
She does indeed see the constellations dotted within the image of each image. So it is indeed a sorcery of some kind. The thought of using such magics makes her uneasy and she takes a step back.
"I would rather forge my own fate, than put it in the hands of the stars. They are fickle creatures, not to be trusted."
Hadvar laughs, "You'll fit right in to Skyrim, I think. That kind of superstitious suspicion is right at home here."
The two turn back down the road. Malenia glances at Hadvar and says, "Is it suspicion if I and my brothers have fought the stars?"
"If… wait, what?" now it is his turn to look curious.
Malenia looks back down the road as they walk and says in a matter of fact tone, "It is complicated."
"Ugh. I'm beginning to think a lot of things might be complicated with you, Malenia."
On that, they were both in agreement.
They reach Riverwood by sundown.
The village is nestled in a valley between two mountains. The river splits in two along either side of a river island where a large sawmill sits, abandoned for the night. A stone gateway, similar to the one in Helgen, stands sentinel at the village entrance. A pair of guards lounge at their posts atop it. In the pale twilight, Malenia can see the chimney smoke of a dozen or so homes nestled safely behind the gateway.
Most of the inhabitants have clearly turned in for the night, but there is a familiar unmistakable sound echoing through the village. The sound of a hammer pounding against an anvil; the trademark of a blacksmith hard at work.
"Sounds like uncle Alvor is hard at work as always." Hadvar chuckles.
When they reach the gate, the guards perk up and double take at Malenia. A trend she is becoming very used to. Both guards, unlike their legion and Stormcloak Counterparts, dress in yellow tabards and cloaks over leather scale armor and chainmail. Conical iron bound helms cover their faces and obscure their eyes from view.
"I've never seen a woman that size before? Are you sure you didn't bring a giantess home, Hadvar?" one of them laughs.
Hadvar shakes his head, but he is smiling. "Ignore them. Those two idiots spend more time heckling than they do guarding. They're harmless."
Malenia is happy to ignore them.
Riverwood is as sleepy as Malenia thought it was. Many homes are dark and silent, save for two. The tavern that is on the opposite end of the village is abuzz with activity; light and loud shouting are ever present. Hardly a surprise.
The other is the blacksmith's house. It is a humble home, a low wood structure with a thatch roof and several lit lanterns hang from the rafters. It has an extended porch on its left side where a forge is set up. A series of workbenches surround the forge, littered with tools and finished projects.
A brawny man with dirty blonde hair and his face smeared with charcoal tends to the forge. He looks up as Hadvar and Malenia approach, and his eyes go wide with confusion.
"Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from…" he pauses as the two step into the forges light. Well, Hadvar does, Malenia remains outside the forge. It is too low for her to comfortably stand under.
"Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy?!" he says as he sees the bruises and singes all over Hadvar. Hadvar winces at Alvors booming voice; the smith is obviously used to speak over the constant din of his forge.
"Shh…" Hadvar raises a finger to his lip, "Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."
"What's going on? And who is this?" he gestures at Malenia, who is peering down under the porch roof.
Hadvar explains, "She's a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything but we need to go inside."
Apparently, Hadvar has come to his uncle with strange covert explanations before, as his uncle ceases his protests at his nephews insistence. Though he does wear a very weary expression as he does.
"Okay, okay." He waves for the two to follow. "Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it."
He leads them both inside. Malenia of course has to stoop to fit under the door. Thankfully, the inside of Alvors home is surprisingly spacious. Tall enough at least for Malenia to stand without issue. The house itself is comfortable, the floor and walls lined with pelts and animal trophies, while a stone fireplace warms the house. A large two person straw bed is set next to the fireplace and a much smaller bed lies in the far corner to the right of the door. One large dinner table is set directly to the doors left, where a pair of goathorn candles burn softly. A stairway is set into the floor on the far left hand side of the house, leading below the building.
As the door closes behind him, Alvor calls out, "Sigrid, we have company!"
Footsteps sound from downstairs and a woman with pale brown hair emerges. When she sees Hadvar, she smiles, "Hadvar! We've been so worried about yo- oh my!"
She halts at the stairs, staring wide eyed at Malenia. "I…um… who is your lady friend?"
The voice of a child follows Sigrid, "Lady friend? Oooh, does Hadvar have a giiiirlfriend?"
A young girl, no more than eight or nine years old, emerges from below and like her mother, freezes at the sight of Malenia. This is a fate she has completely resigned herself to.
"Wow, you're really tall!" the girl chirps, "Are you part giant?"
"Dorthe!" her mother admonishes her, "Manners!"
The girl whines, "But she is! Look at her!"
Alvor chuckles and shakes his head, "I suppose there's no avoiding it. Boy, why don't you properly introduce us to your friend. She's quite the curiosity. No offense, lass."
Malenia wears a small polite smile and says, "None taken. I am foreign to these lands of Skyrim and Tamriel. You may call me Malenia."
"And I and half of Helgen owe her our lives." Hadvar adds.
Alvor and Sigrid exchange looks of concern. The smith turns to Hadvar and asks, "Helgen? What happened in Helgen? I take it that's why you're here and look like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"
Hadvar takes a seat at the table across from his uncle as Sigrid heads back downstairs. Malenia leans against the wall; none of the chairs would be comfortable to sit in, let alone capable of supporting her weight. The child, Dorthe, is slowly peering up from behind the table and staring at Malenia. It is more than a bit disconcerting.
While Hadvar slowly informs Alvor of what happened in Helgen, Malenia awkwardly shifts in her position. She has not the slightest idea how to handle the child. Outside of her brother (a notion he would find highly offensive) she has never actually interacted with a child. This was solely her choice, most in the Lands Between would have been delighted for their child to meet a daughter of Marika. But Malenia would never have taken such a risk while afflicted with the Rot.
But now she is no longer infected, and does not know how to handle Dorthe's curiosity. Should she ignore it, scold the child, or maybe inform her parents? Is that something someone can do with anothers child? Malenia has no idea, thus she settles for awkwardly leaning against the wall and avoiding acknowledging the stare.
"...And I was sent by General Tullius to make sure Riverwood was still in one piece and could prepare for the dragon." Hadvar finishes his tale, then adds, "I also thought you might be able to help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay for the night."
Alvor laughs, "Of course! Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm happy to help however I can."
His face grows more serious and his tone solemn as he turns to Malenia, "But I need your help. We need your help."
She pushes off the wall and looks down at him, "What do you need?"
"The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless. You're already heading to Whiterun to speak with Eorlund Gray-Mane, yes? Please, when you get to Whiterun, speak with Jarl Balgruuf and convince him to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt."
Malenia lets a faint frown cross her lips. "Will this Jarl even listen to me? I am a foreigner, and Hadvar tells me that dragons have not inhabited these lands for generations."
Alvor gestures at her, "You're an eight and a half foot tall giant that single handedly fought that dragon hard enough to shatter your blade and send it running for the hills. Balgruuf is a reasonable man, he'll listen to what you have to say."
The description of her battle with the dragon makes Malenia glance at Hadvar. She could not be certain if he has exaggerated the fight with the beast for her sake, or if he genuinely believes that she drove the dragon off at great sacrifice to herself. The expression on his face suggests that it may very well be the latter.
Malenia's first thought is to dispel such a notion. Despite all she had done, the dragon emerged from their conflict unscathed. It was unlikely that mortal soldiers would fare any better than she has. Yet, she is stopped by a memory.
A conversation with her brother long ago when the Haligtree was but a sapling and he had opened their doors to all the outcasts of the Lands Between. Malenia was still growing into her role as his defender and champion and had protested that so many different peoples in one place was a recipe for degeneracy and disaster.
Miquella had silenced her in a single statement.
They will not turn on one another, for here they will have a future to build towards together. He had said.
Hope was a powerful force, he believed. A people with a hope for a better tomorrow and a hope that their leader works for them and not their own self interest, would unite stronger than force in the Lands Between. It was hope, after all, that had led Miquella to the unalloyed gold that stalled the Rot, and it was hope that had made Malenia the greatest swordswoman in the land. So long as people had hope, they could accomplish wonders.
"I will do what I can, Alvor. You have my word." Malenia says.
The smith looks relieved, "Ah, thank you. You've no idea how much of a relief that is to hear. Now, that's enough chatting about doom and gloom. You two must be famished."
It is an odd thing. Malenia sits cross legged at the table's edge, while Sigrid finishes setting out the table and feels something she's not felt in some time. Genuine hunger.
Miquella had theorized once that as the Rot advanced, it would either destroy Malenia entirely or begin supplanting her basic functions including her need to eat. Time had shown that the latter was more likely; Malenia had rarely known hunger even while on campaign and what appetite she did possess was nowhere close to the might of Radahn or Rykard, or Marika help her, Ranni's.
Yet the simple meal prepared by Sigrid is enough to make her stomach rumble and her mouth water. A meal of venison glazed with honey and apples, a side of grilled leeks, and a mug of ale to wash it down. Malenia devours it all with a glee that surprises her. She is on her third plate by the time Hadvar and Alvor have finished their first.
"Well, now we know why you're so tall." Hadvar laughs.
"Personally, I'm just glad to see someone enjoy my cooking." Sigrid says, glancing at her daughter.
Dorthe has been picking at her meal much slower, still watching Malenia closely. When she sees the demigod consume even the leeks without complaint, she takes a cautious bite of the vegetables and grimaces. Then she steels herself for what must be done, and takes another.
As the last of the meal vanishes, Malenia dabs at her face with a napkin and sheepishly says, "Thank you for the meal, Sigrid. It was excellent."
The woman is beaming at the praise, "I'm delighted you liked it."
"Seems like an understatement to me." Hadvar jests.
"Will you be staying with us tonight, Malenia?" Sigrid asks, more seriously. "We have a spare bed down below, though you might have trouble considering your height. I have some extra septims lying around, we could rent you a room at the Sleeping Giant Inn…"
The woman trails off, perhaps aware of the terrible pun she has just made. Thankfully, Malenia does not seem to catch it. "I would not ask you spend anymore than is necessary on account of my visit. The bed will do."
"Right this way then." she says and rises.
Malenia does the same and follows the woman downstairs. She is careful in her steps, lest she accidentally break one of the wooden boards. The basement is smaller than the main floor, and Malenia is forced to stoop to stand under it properly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even consider…" Sigrid starts to apologize.
But Malenia raises her hand to stop her, "Its temporary, I will be fine."
She appreciates the courtesy they have given her, but to have them constantly apologizing for inconveniences will grow old quickly. Malenia would rather not have to live with that.
Much of the basement is clearly used for storage, but a section is cleared out for a bed that is definitely too small for Malenia. Well, too small for her with her prosthetics on anyway. It creaks ominously as she sits on it, but remains firm.
"Thank you, Sigrid, for your hospitality." Malenia says.
Sigrid smiles, "Of course. Like Alvor said, any friend of Hadvar is a friend of ours. There is one more thing though."
The woman pulls a slip of paper from a pouch at her side and hands it to Malenia. "I wrote out a small letter of recommendation to the Jarl. You were worried he might not believe you, so I figured that might help give your claims some legitimacy."
"That's very thoughtful. Thank you." Malenia says and glances at the note. She frowns immediately.
"I… cannot read this."
Sigrid cocks her head to the side and blinks, "Huh. Well you aren't exactly from Tamriel, so I suppose that would make sense."
"I suppose it would…" Malenia murmurs. She sets the note aside for now and bids Sigrid a good night.
After the woman leaves, Malenia removes her prosthetic legs and settles into the bed. She leaves both standing attentively at the side of the bed and massages what remains of her legs with her remaining hand. Like her flesh born arm, her legs have been renewed with fresh pink skin at the Rot's retreat, punctuated by lines and lines of golden cross stitching that remain. Unlike her arm, both are sore and stiff from the day's journey. A good night's rest will be well appreciated.
But as she prepares to settle in for the night, she catches movement out of the corner of her eyes. Malenia turns towards it and says quite clearly, "Child, if you are trying to sneak up on me, you'll need to do better than that."
Dorthe pokes out from behind a crate, appropriately sheepish. "Sorry Miss Malenia. I heard you and mom talking and I… um…"
Malenia raises a brow, and says nothing, waiting for the girl to explain herself. Dorthe finds her words and said, "I heard that you can't read?"
"I can read." Malenia says, almost defensively. "I simply cannot read this language."
Dorthe scuffs the floor with her foot, "Well, I can read too… would you like me to teach you how to read?"
Malenia is at a loss for words. Is this normal? Is this something that children do? Or is this simply a quirk of this particular child? Would it even be appropriate to accept an offer like that? To learn from a child is not what some would consider admirable.
The girl sees her hesitation and says, "Papa always tells me that the best way to learn something, is to teach it to others. I know my letters and words, but it's good practice for me, and you helped my cousin and…"
"Very well." Malenia stops her. Having an understanding of the written language will be necessary to surviving in this land, so the sooner she can start the better. And the offer, in its own way, is sweet.
The girl perks up, "Really? Awesome!"
She disappears behind the barrel again and then reappears with an old leather bound tome. Then she scurries across the room and jumps onto the bed. Malenia scoots to the side so that she has room to sit, and Dorthe opens the tome to the first page.
"So the first thing is that you have a bunch of little words that make up the big words, right?" Dorthe begins, happily diving into the lessons.
The eagerness, the spark in her eyes, it is very familiar to Malenia. It's a reminder of a time long ago, of happier times when she had no concerns over titles or wars. When she could focus simply on exploring the Lands Between and studying the blade. An innocence that she realizes she has lost for a very long time.
"Hey, um, am I going too fast?" Dorthe asks.
Malenia smiles, "No. Please, continue. I'm listening."
A/N: Who likes fluff? I like fluff!
So not a ton to this chapter, its a pretty fluffy one but I feel that after what happened in Helgen it was necessary. Next up we'll be sending Malenia on her way to Whiterunt o hopefully get her arm and sword fixed. Because its totally gonna be that easy right? Just gonna follow the stations of canon without changing anything, thats definitely gonna be what happens. Right?
Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as always please leave any comments or criticisms down below and I'll see you guys next chapter!