Chapter #6: Lake Ilinalta

My only company was that of distant birds as my first journey in the wilds of Skyrim began. The fur-wrapped boots upon my feet stepped through pale-green grass, dusted with snow. I had a quiver of arrows on my back and an Imperial's longbow in my hand, my spirit was still tense from the chaotic beginning of my adventure. As I walked through the woods, I seemed to jump at any brief noise. However, the sounds predominantly came from rabbits hopping through the brush. The northern woods held a brisk and serene beauty.

The morning had turned to afternoon and one of those rabbits had become my lunch. I lost a few arrows to the chase, but it was worth it to have some food in my belly. Smoke rose into the air as I cooked the meat over a small campfire I had built with some wood and a spell of flames. After all that had happened, I had forgotten that it had been a few days since I had last eaten. It was nice to relax a bit. I knew that there would be a place for me in the town of Riverwood someday soon, but that would be for another time.

With my stomach full after a meal of rabbit haunch, I continued on my journey west towards Lake Ilinalta. A mere mile or two rested between me and that lake; it would not be a long trip. I wandered among the tall pines until the distant sound of chopped wood echoed through the glade. The sound was soon followed by a collection of rough voices. They belonged to a group bandits. I had heard the legends of Skyrim's unforgiving wildfolk, and bandits were among the most common. Their camp was within clear sight and I cursed myself for not noticing it sooner.

In a swift motion, I crouched to my knees and brought myself into cover behind a tree. How long had I been visible? Would they take what they could and slit my throat? Or perhaps they would bring me to some Imperial-favored Jarl. I sunk deeper into the greenery about me. But the hiding place did not serve well. I felt the presence of unforgiving eyes and turned my head to find a rusty iron arrow trained on me. It was nocked in a hunting bow, wielded by an angry bandit. They had found me.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, friend," The bowman said in a gruff voice. As if there would be a good time. He was a Bosmer of Valenwood, some of the most renowned archers in all of Tamriel. He wore his hair in a mohawk and his face was painted with streaks of green. "Oi, Chief," he called over to the camp, "We got ourselves a wanderer here."

My thoughts shuffled through countless ways to escape this situation. I did not survive a town aflame and a murderous dragon just to be robbed and killed by a bunch of common thieves. The Bosmer had the drop on me, but I would need to take him out before the leader reached the top of the hill in which we stood upon. I could not win in a bow fight, so the minute the bandit's head turned to face his leader, I drew my blade and sliced it through the bow and across his chest. He died with a cry of pain.

The chief was a Redguard woman. Her dark skin was patterned with numerous battle scars and she was dressed in armor from head to toe. Our duel was not long. She was strong, but she lacked any glint of coordination. As she missed a chop that would drain her of stamina, I stabbed her in the belly with the Imperial Captain's sword. She reminded me of her, both determined and tough leaders; both gone.

There was only one bandit left; the woodsman who's handy work had resounded through the forest. He ran up the hill with his axe held high. As he yelled a blood-curdling war cry, I swapped my sword for my bow and flung an arrow into his neck. He fell straight back and crashed down the hill. By the grace of Talos, I had survived another skirmish. Best start getting used to these scraps.

Their camp was not large or particularly well stocked. There was a campfire in the center, a chopping block to the western reach, and a tent for each of the three bandits. As I searched the chests and barrels, I found a set of iron armor. I changed out of the Stormcloak's uniform that had once belonged to the soldier Gunjar. It would be best, if I hoped to blend in, that I were not wearing the colors of the Imperials' enemies. The suit was fairly heavy yet lacked sleeves. I wondered how the Nords kept warm with this type of fashion. But I came to the conclusion that the words 'Nord' and 'fashion' should never be used in a sentence.

I set out west once more after grabbing a bag from the camp and packing my things into it. The trip was not long and I soon found myself on the edge of a hill overlooking a vast body of water. The blue of the water shown clear amongst the faded green of the trees and brilliant white of the mountain tops; this was Lake Ilinalta. At the edge of the water, on a beach nearby, my yellow eyes spotted a small fishing boat. I deduced that the boat did not belong to my hunters - the Thalmor and the Imperials - and was more likely owned by a local hunter.

The hill was steep, so I strode with caution as I descended. The grass and dirt were soon exchanged for sand as I stepped out onto a beach. I sheathed my weapons, holding out hope that whoever was down there would be much more friendly than those I was growing accustomed to. As I came upon the fisherman's campsite, I spied a small tent with a bedroll within, a fire for warmth, as well as a rack of strung fish. The dweller himself was a Redguard, dark of skin and hair. He had a leather cap upon his head and wore armor made of hide. "Hello, friend," He said to me in a tone that lacked any sense of malice.

"Greetings," I responded in a similar fashion, "Would you mind if I share your fire?"

"Of course, High Elf. I will feed you as well," The Redguard said with a nod. He did not bother to stand up from the wooden stump in which he sat. "I only ask for two things in return."

"And what might those be?" I asked, head tilted as I stood across from him.

"The first I ask is your name," he said, "I've been hunting and fishing in these parts for years, but I do not know your face."

"Fair enough," I replied, "I'm Sol." Simply that. I resolved not to give him my full name.

The man's brows crooked a bit, as if a thought quickly came to him and was settled. "That's not a name I've heard in a High Elf before. At least, by my reckoning. But you seem a decent enough fellow, and I'm a hardy shot with a bow if you're not so decent. My name is Waylas."

"It's good to meet you, Waylas," I extended a hand and shook his in a friendly greeting. Perhaps there was more to Skyrim than bandits and bears? "So what is the second condition, friend?"

"You catch as many fish as you eat," He said. And with that, he tossed me a pole, a hook and a line, then we began to fish.

Dear Reader,

A late Merry Christmas and an early Happy New Year to you! This is the first original adventure. Not really all that much of a game changer, just a walk in the woods; quite literally. One of the ultimate goals for this series is is to be a series of adventures in Skyrim. I am trying to sneak in little bits of Skyrim lines (we have all heard a million times) into normal dialogue. I cannot wait until he gets to meet a certain guard with a knock for an arrow in the knee. Anyway! I hope you enjoy this one. The next one will be a quick story and soon after that I will introduce Sol to Riverwood. Gosh, I love that village. As usual, I hope you enjoy. If you liked the story, I'd appreciate a favorite, follow, or a review. If you saw something you wished I had done differently? Please feel free to shoot me a PM! If you're polite, I'd love to hear you! Thanks again! If you are reading this, you are more appreciated.

~Kovecs