The Spirit Endures
Or; The Ysmirid
Chapter 2 - The Sick Bed of Lydia
He was there at the stables, puffing on a pipe and patting a leopard-coated horse. It dwarfed the short Reachman, and its white coat with black dots speckled all over contrasted heavily with the man's earth-toned form in the distance.
As Lydia trudged closer to her Thane she could see his lips moving around the mouthpiece of his pipe with great dexterity. He was murmuring something but before she could discern what he was saying to the steed, his head perked up and he was looking in her direction.
Lydia stopped in her tracks as a pair of brown eyes bore into her.
"So you came." stated Faolan, removing the pipe with one hand while patting the spotted horse's neck with the other.
Part of Lydia was offended that he even doubted her. But Lydia herself also doubted that she would be willing to follow the man, even after telling her father otherwise. Besides, it was half an hour past sunrise, so it was half an hour past their agreed-upon meeting time. Lydia was a heavy sleeper, and the beds in her family's home were nothing if not comfortable.
She wondered if it was a stroke of good fortune or a curse that made the man wait at the stables for her.
"So I came." Lydia agreed, bending over to place her steel shield against the pale wooden fence of the stall Faolan's horse was housed in.
Faolan grunted before returning to inspecting his new horse-a mare by the look of it-and puffing on the dark, weathered mouthpiece of his pipe. The rich scent of a tobacco blend managed to catch Lydia as she walked to Jeek's stall, just a few feet away.
"Hey Lydia." her Thane called out, and as Lydia turned to regard him, she could see him gesturing towards the mare with a proud smile, "Meet Macke! She loves honey nut treats. Isn't she cute?"
It was easy to forget how young the Dragonborn was. There were times where he looked almost as old as her but, with his guard down, he looked like he couldn't have experienced more than sixteen years of life on Tamriel. Once again, Lydia felt the nauseous feeling of doubt worm its way into her core.
"Jarl Balgruuf is a generous man, my Thane." Lydia began, shifting her gaze to Macke before her stare could become more rude than it already was, "Her coat is bright and she has a good build. She'll serve you well, Divines willing."
"Right? Right? And look-even her mane is spotted. Ha!" said the Reachman, turning away from her to focus on fussing over his newest companion.
Lydia stifled a smile as she stepped in front of Jeek's stall. With a bay coat and a black mane, Jeek was plain compared to her Thane's horse and certainly not as well groomed or well bred. But he was a dependable steed, one that had been accompanying her ever since she was assigned to patrol the golden plains that surrounded her home.
"Hey boy." she whispered, patting his side before she went to work on fastening her saddlebags and a modest bedroll behind her saddle. It was a ritual they had practiced together to the point where it was more like scratching an itch than fulfilling a necessary chore.
"You ready to go?" her Thane called out as she exited the stall, Jeek's bridle in hand.
Lydia nodded.
"Right. Well I suppose I should say something before we set off." began Faolan with a queer expression on his face, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, "I just wanted to say sorry. For, ah, ruining your family's dinner. Probably."
A few seconds passed, before Lydia mounted her horse with practiced ease.
"That didn't seem very sincere." she replied after a couple more seconds.
"I am sorry. Truly. I know what it's like to be forced to leave your home and I'm sorry I made that experience more unpleasant for you. But, in the interest of being more sincere, I will admit that I'm not sorry for defending myself and my people from your father. He's a colossal prick."
Lydia sighed before nodding, "He is a colossal prick. And I'm also sorry for what he said to you."
Faolan squinted at her from atop Macke. "Thanks. Now can we go now?"
Lydia nodded, letting the matter drop as she followed her Thane out of the stables. She wondered if it would make him feel better is she told him that she could've chosen to stay in her home the night before.
Probably not.
"So I forgot to tell you that we'll be making a little detour before we go up the ten thousands steps or whatever they're called." Faolan said as he pushed the diced onions and garlic around with a wooden spoon.
"Seven thousand." Lydia correcting, not looking up from the steel longsword she was polishing.
"Right." Faolan rolled his eyes and tossed some hunks of venison into the skillet, "Before we climb the six thousands steps we'll be stopping at a little place called Orphan Rock to pick up something."
His housecarl placed her sword on her lap before shooting him a skeptical expression, "Orphan Rock."
Faolan sprinkled some salt on the browning meat, "I heard it's lovely this time of year."
"The place infamous for being home to Hagravens, witches, necromancy and human sacrifice?"
"Yeah, that one."
"That does sound lovely!"
"Glad you agree!" said Faolan with a sweet smile, "Shame we don't have any rice, that's all they ate down in Cyrodiil. Did you know that it was brought over when the Akaviri invaded Tamriel?"
Lydia ignored his impressive historical knowledge, "And this something you're looking for. Are the Hagravens just going to give it to you?"
Faolan snorted, "That's a good one. No, we'll probably end up killing them. But if you want to negotiate, go right ahead. You'll probably have to trade an eyeball or two to get what we want."
She brushed off his joke and scooted closer to the fire, "And… you're fine with that? Killing a Hagraven, I mean."
Under the beautiful moonlight of Falkreath Hold, Lydia's features were as clear as they would've been during the day. She looked like someone asking their parents about their sex life. Or a Housecarl asking their Thane about a particularly controversial and misunderstood aspect of Reachman society.
Faolan sighed.
"What are you getting at?" he asked though he absolutely did know what she was getting at.
"Well… uh… you know…" Lydia fumbled as Faolan removed the skillet from the fire, "Don't Reachmen worship Hagravens?"
"Some of us do, I won't lie about that. It's complicated and it really depends on the tribe or the individual more often than not." Faolan explained as he wiped the mouthpiece of his pipe with his sleeve and popped it into his mouth, "Some lads have begun worshiping the Nine. Some worship the spirits on a more individual level, for the lessons they teach us as a people. And then there are tribes where the Hagravens are responsible for interpreting those lessons and performing rituals for the tribe as a whole. Does that make sense?"
"Er. I guess."
"Right. Think about it this way. The closest comparison Hagravens have in Nord culture would be priests. I suppose… Actually, maybe that isn't the right way to go about it…"
Lydia remained silent.
"Okay, think about it this way: imagine if your priests were reviled by a third of the population, feared by another third, and then revered or at least accepted by the rest. A lot of clans have normal shamans, but then a lot recognize the utility of witches that have access to powerful magic. Right? So, for Eras, they've sort of embedded themselves into our society, at first because of their use and magical ability, but then they assimilated themselves as spiritual leaders."
Faolan puffed on his pipe, relishing in the rich flavor of the Nibenese blend he acquired in Bruma. He grabbed the skillet of sizzling meat and vegetables by the fire and placed it on a stone half a foot to his right. He exhaled a smoke-filled breath before looking back across the fire at Lydia who looked more contemplative as she went back to polishing her blade.
"They've been around since the First Era. The legends say that the Red Eagle became the first briarheart when he made a deal with a Hagraven. All to free his people. Maybe the Hagravens slipped that part in over the centuries to make themselves seem more naturally associated with our society. To make themselves irreplaceable, I guess is a way of putting it." Faolan remarked before asking, "Does that clear it up?"
"I suppose I do understand, my Thane." Lydia said as she stood up with one fluid motion and walked over to the skillet, "But, it sounds like they're more like… parasites than priests? Like they've taken advantage of the Reachmen more than they've integrated themselves into your society."
Faolan chuckled, "Yes, that is certainly one interpretation of their role in our society."
Lydia sat next to him, and began tearing into her plate, scooping hunks of meat and onions onto the bread they purchased in Whiterun. Faolan felt a deep pain then, a pang of sadness and fear resonated throughout him as he remembered the lectures his father would give to him in their small, damp home. No matter the topic, his father always had a seemingly infinite amount of patience for whatever stupid question Faolan had lined up for him at their splintered dinner table.
Faolan looked up at the night sky. There were clouds in the distance towards the east but he could see the sky tales like they were from one of the astronomy books his father had stolen for him when he was a child, when he desired to see the world beyond Markarth. The Mage, the Steed, the Tower… Faolan could see them all. He fought the tremble in his lip at the thought that his father might not ever be able to see the stars again.
Was he even still alive?
"My Thane? Are you well?" Lydia asked, her tone a mix of confusion and concern, "You should eat, we should get to Orphan Rock tomorrow if everything goes to plan."
"I'm not hungry. I'm going to sleep." he choked out after letting out a shuddering breath. Faolan could feel his nails piercing the skin of his palms as he wrestled with his breaths that were becoming shorter and shorter with each second.
Faolan thought he might tell her then and there what was going through his mind. What had been going through his mind in Evermore and Dragonstar and Orsinium and Chorrol and Bruma and the Pale Pass… But she was a Nord. And a Nord could never understand.
"My Thane-"
"I'm fine." Faolan cut her off, holding up a hand to stall her as he regained control of his breathing, "Just… just some bad memories. I'll eat tomorrow morning."
Lydia didn't follow after him as he trudged back to their bedrolls, only offering a tepid 'good night' as he retreated into the bundle of leather and furs as if it were a cocoon. Part of Faolan wished that his housecarl had pressed him instead of respecting his space-part of him just wanted to leave their campsite and walk westwards until the soles of his feet were bloody and he was back home.
But Faolan wasn't ready. Not yet.
Rok lost hahnu do dovah daar vulon.
"So let's go over the plan." her Thane said.
They hadn't spoken about what happened the previous night, he seemed determined to put that behind him though his face was paler than its usual natural tan. Still, the Dragonborn's gaze was honed in on the rock formation at the center of a clearing by the base of the Throat of the World. Even from the bush they were hidden behind, Lydia could see the ugly tents and effigies that emerged from Orphan Rock like a bad case of black mold.
They managed to arrive at the encampment before the sun reached its zenith and the storm clouds on the horizon reached them. From there, Faolan (whom she wasn't surprised to learn was light on his feet) had scouted out the surrounding area undetected. Unlike the legends spread around in the taverns and guard barracks of Whiterun, the Orphan Rock of reality was more humble and mundane, only home to one Hagraven and a handful of witches that either were congregated by the rock formation or in the surrounding copses.
"We attack from two different directions, we eliminate the roving witches without alerting the others, then we attack the main rock together and kill the Hagraven. And get whatever you're looking for." Lydia repeated back to Faolan, "Wait. What are we even looking for?"
"Nettlebane."
"Nettlebane." Lydia repeated, to which her Thane only nodded and offered a thumb's up, "Oh, right. Nettlebane. Of course."
She heard her Thane chuckle and rummage through the satchel he always kept on his person.
"I don't think we should do a sneak attack. It's not a good idea, my Thane." Lydia remarked as she spotted one of the witches bending over to rip a mushroom from the trunk of a pine tree.
"Why?" he asked as a familiar scent crept into her senses, "Not honorable enough for a proud Nord?"
"No. It's not that-wait, are you eating something?"
She turned her head at a snail's pace, careful not to make her armor clink or make any noise that could tip the witch off to their position. Lydia found Faolan in the midst of chewing on a piece of jerky.
"Why are you eating our food before we're about to assault a witch's stronghold?" she hissed, reaching to rip the snack from his hands.
He stuffed it into his mouth before she could, though, and made a show of chewing and swallowing before he replied with a grin, "I'm hungry."
Lydia turned away from him, this time less careful than the last. She exhaled a strong breath through her nose before rising from her crouch, "If you had just eaten dinner like I suggested… Never mind, let's just go. I'll take this side, you can take the other."
"Wait." her Thane whispered, she turned to him only to find him with an even wider grin as he held out a piece of jerky, "You want one?"
Lydia swallowed, forcing the anger down past the knot in her chest as she crept away from the bushes, as silent as one could be in steel armor. He was immature, as was to be expected from someone of his age. Still, as irritating as his nonchalance was, Lydia was eager to see how the vaunted Dragonborn performed under the stresses of combat.
Now, Lydia wasn't very good at sneaking up on people. Maybe it was because she was a Nord, but she was always heavy-footed, even as a child. She didn't need to do much sneaking up on people as a guard. If she ever got into combat, it was with a group of guardsmen at her side forming a shieldwall. The Jarl wanted guardsmen-not heroes.
So trying to sneak up on a lone witch picking mushrooms ended up being one of the most agonizing sequences in her life. Every snap of her joints, every jangle of the ringmail beneath her plate, every twig snapped seemed more like the roar of a dragon than an innocuous sound.
Lydia imagined it would've been an amusing scene to witness: a lone woman picking herbs in mushrooms in an idyllic forest with the sound of birds and the wind cushioning her, all the while some dunce in a metal suit of armor was trying to sneak up on her.
Still, she had to pat herself on the back (mentally, of course) because the hag hadn't noticed her, even when Lydia was a couple of feet away. Lydia unsheathed her dirk as silent as a mouse and steeled herself for whatever was about to happen.
It was almost too easy.
With naught but a gasp the witch was tackled into the tree and a dirk was plunged into her midsection. Lydia quickly covered her mouth before the witch could let out any noise, be it a last gasp or bloodcurdling screen. She had killed people before, of course, but it was different… killing someone the way she did. The warm, victorious feeling she got after defeating someone in a duel was absent, there was only what felt like milk curdling in her stomach as she watched the life drain from the woman's blue eyes.
Blonde hair, blue eyes. The corpse would've been taller than Lydia, had it been standing. In fact, it looked like it belonged in the blue get-up of a Stormcloak, not the black robes of a hedgewitch.
Lydia let out a huff of air and moved on, hiding behind the next tree as she gathered her thoughts. If Faolan was as good as he said he was, then he would've been on to his next target. She peeked her head out from the cover of the thick tree trunk and took stock of their little battlefield.
She could still see the congregation of a Hagraven and some witches up on the rock formation doing whatever they usually did on a nice Tirdas afternoon. Lydia could hear no screams or signs of violence from the rest of the trees surrounding the rock and she could see no other witches wandering around or patrolling.
Come to think of it, they had never actually decided on a moment to strike at Orphan Rock itself, they just would somehow know when to attack in unison. Lydia cursed. Faolan was too busy eating all their jerky and Lydia was too busy trying to be an obedient little housecarl for the boy.
She heard a gasp come from behind her and cursed once more before wheeling around to face whoever snuck up on her.
It was another woman in black robes, she had blonde hair and blue eyes just like the witch Lydia had just killed. Her black lips were parted with shock and a wicker basket was dropped by her leather shoes, mountain flowers spilling out of it like a scene out of a painting.
"Gjarma." the woman breathed out before the shocked gaze that was fixated on the corpse turned into an angry one. Her thin eyebrows furrowed and her cheeks reddened as her eyes shifted towards Lydia.
Lydia didn't know why she was just standing there. It might've been one of those things she might not ever understand but she was determined to make up for her mistake. She brandished her bloodstained dirk and charged at the woman, hoping to use the shock that most people experienced when seeing a fully-armored Nord running at them against the witch before she could use a spell against her.
But the witch wasn't shocked. She was angry. Her hands flexed and strained and became pale as a lurid green light bloomed in her palms. Still, Lydia charged, there was nothing between them but soil and shrubs. Blood dripped down the witch's pale lips from her long nose as the light, which had to be magical, became brighter until it looked like it might explode instead of shooting towards Lydia.
'Shit .' Lydia cursed within her mind, still perhaps five feet from the witch as she pointed her palms towards her.
The light shot out towards Lydia before the witch scampered out of her path. First there was a falling sensation, like the one she got when she was bucked off the back of Jeek when she rode him too hard, or when she jumped off the roof of House Gray-Mane because Olfina dared her to.
Then there was nothing . Well, maybe not nothing. She could feel an itch on her shin she got from fastening her greaves too tight.
She could feel her stomach gurgling from that morning's meal.
'Maybe I should've taken that jerky. ' she couldn't help but think.
She could feel the scrape on her left forearm when she landed on a particularly sharp rock.
She could feel the blood race to escape her body via the scrape.
She could feel each and every hair follicle on her body.
But she couldn't move . She could feel everything but her muscles.
Only her eyes could move, she realized as her body was propped up by her forearm and some unnatural force that kept her muscles as stiff as a post. She could stare down her nose at the green pine needles and small pebbles that dotted the ground but she couldn't turn her neck to look at witch next to her or to look for her Thane. Lydia had the queer realization that that must've been what it was like to be locked up in the darkest corner of the Dragonsreach dungeons, a fate that befallen most of the criminals that crossed her and lived to tell the tale.
"Oh." the witch gasped in a high and reedy tone, like that of a maiden from some Cyrodilic knight's tale, "It actually worked…"
One step, then another-this one close enough to Lydia's head that she could see the brown of a leather shoe in the corner of her eyes.
"It actually worked!" the witch shouted before she rolled Lydia over so that she was facing the sky, "I've only gotten to practice the spell on squirrels and rabbits, Gjarma never let me test on her and Mistress Enid never lets me test on the prisoners."
The sky looked very beautiful then, with the pine trees stabbing the sky like a stack of spears on a weapon's rack back at the barracks. Lydia could see the grey clouds she saw earlier drifting to what was probably southwest of Orphan Rock.
"Gjarma…" the witch breathed out, before her face appeared directly in Lydia's field of vision.
Lydia could see how bloodshot the witch's eyes were, how yellow and rotten her teeth smelled, and how wheezy her breaths sounded. The worst part was that Lydia could feel exactly how scared she was-how fast her heart was beating, the sweat crawling down her face like slugs, and how her stomach felt like it was falling from the Throat of the World which loomed above them.
"I could kill you, you know. The other witches wouldn't care, Mistress wouldn't care, and my sister would've applauded me if she wasn't murdered." the witch spat out before her hand shot out and caressed Lydia's cheek, "But your eyes are oh so pretty. Mistress will be so upset when she finds out about Gjarma, you'll definitely cheer her up! And when Mistress Enid is happy, so am I…"
The witch's face disappeared as fast as it appeared and a moment later Lydia could hear a chiming sound as a golden aura surrounded her body and she was lifted into the air. She could feel the contents of her stomach slosh around as she was carried by some mystical force.\
'Where the fuck is the Faolan? ' Lydia wondered as the feeling of indignity usurped the sensation of nausea in her gut. There she was being carried like a deer on a spit while her Thane was doing fuck all to help her.
"Mistress Enid! We have a guest!" the witch announced with a wheeze as smoke appeared in Lydia's line of sight.
"Well, what are you waiting for, dear? Bring it up! Bring it up!" a gravelly, rasping voice called out from somewhere nearby (Lydia felt her blood freeze at the sound of it), "Do wipe your feet before you come up here! You have been out in the forest all morning, after all."
The witch let out an exasperated sigh, "Yes, Mistress…"
Lydia drifted forward once more before being jerked to a stop. She could hear the scraping of soles against a mat before she moved once more, and as the sky moved regardless of her will, Lydia could feel herself being rotated downwards before she was face-to-face with a tree trunk. She could feel the sweat leave her pores as her nose was only an inch from being ground up against the surface of a tree trunk.
"Here, dear, let me take over the levitation spell, you look rather peaky. What exactly happened?" the grainy voice from earlier said, "Wouldn't want this poor thing to have her nose scraped, would we?"
She felt a stronger, almost suffocating, force take hold her body and the golden aura that surrounded her became so bright that it was blinding. Lydia jerked upwards and turned forwards with the force and swiftness of a well-oiled door.
With that, she was face-to-face with the creature that haunted the nightmares of children across Skyrim. Lydia remembered how Jon Battle-Born would tell stories to the younger children of how Hagravens preferred to eat the unruly children and, seeing the razor-sharp teeth of the creature in front of her, she could now safely say that she believed him. Its eyes were somehow beady and bloodshot at the same time and it was sniffing at her like a dog. The Hagraven's flabby skin waved around with each of its bird-like, jerky movements and its blood-stained talons flexed and relaxed endlessly.
Never in her life had Lydia seen a more revolting creature.
"Now what do we have here? Who is this sweet girl?" asked the creature, Enid apparently, as one of her talons caressed Lydia's cheek.
"An intruder, Mistress Enid!" the witch explained, "She-she killed Gjarma!"
The talon froze before its movements began anew, with more force. It wasn't quite enough to break Lydia's skin but she could imagine the angry white lines forming with each trace of the Hagraven's talons.
"Please explain further, my dear Gjarmi." it demanded, its tone less kindly now and more cruel.
"I found her standing over Gjarma's body with a bloody knife, Mistress. And when she saw me, she tried to kill me!" the witch explained, sounding more childlike with each word, "But I did it, Mistress! I mastered the paralyze spell, just like you taught me!"
The Hagraven turned away from the witch, back towards Lydia, its beady gaze cold and calculating, "A knife… This was a planned attack. A tricky little sneaky attack from this Nord, hm?"
Lydia was flung away from the abomination and she felt the bruises form in an instant as her back impacted some sort of stone slab.
"That's the fourth girl I've lost in the past two months. Those silly boys in red down the valley have been getting very greedy." Lydia heard Enid mutter as it hobbled over to the slab, its joints popping and cracking with each slow step.
"You're dismissed, dear Gjarmi, be a good girl and watch for any other… guests." the old crone announced as it loomed over Lydia, its talons resuming their ministrations, "Mmm, such pretty eyes…"
She couldn't decide what was more disgusting as her eyes watered of their own accord: the fixation on her eyes or the smell of her breath. She could feel herself choke as she remembered what Faolan said earlier about Hagravens and eyes.
"Hm? Oh dear, the spell is unravelling…" she heard the Hagraven mutter and its face disappeared from her view.
Lydia grunted as she felt the sensation of her muscles flexing of their own will in ebbs and flows. A twitch here, a twitch there, but it wasn't fast enough-the Hagraven loomed above her and watched Lydia move around like she was a worm squirming around in the mud.
"Aaagh… Aagh…" Lydia grunted as her fingers and her toes flexed.
"Hm? Speak up dear." Enid said as she tilted her head sideways and put it in front of Lydia's mouth.
A piercing scream rang out from nearby before it was silenced a moment later, a hushed curse reaching Lydia afterwards. Faolan. It had to be Faolan. Lydia and Enid exchanged a look. Then there was a blink of green and Lydia felt the paralysis set in again and a set of talons dig their way into her face.
"Just a moment, dear." the Hagraven growled as blood trickled down Lydia's cheek, "It seems we have another intruder!"
Lydia heard talons scraping against stone and the sound of Enid's bones creaking as its feathered form moved to dispose of Faolan. Lydia wanted more than anything to warn him about the creature, she wanted to scream herself hoarse. But she couldn't. She couldn't do anything but look up at the sky as the sounds of combat and explosions from sort of spell washed over her.
'Damn it. ' Lydia thought as she realized that she still hadn't seen Faolan in a fight-she would just have to trust that he pulled his weight in the battle against the dragon at the watchtower instead of just absorbing the soul of the dragon at the end of it. She wanted to cry at the thought of leaving her fate in the hands of a boy.
Lydia felt her fingers twitch once more as the sounds of explosions grew more frequent and closer. The shaking that came from the ground brought about movement in her muscles instead of simply making her frame rattle against the stone slab she was placed on. The physical strength that she had been accustomed to every day of her life slowly bloomed like the Dragon's Tongue in her mother's garden.
'Just keep pushing .' she growled within her mind as her teeth began to grind and a groaning sound came from her throat. ' Come on… '
Then, like a rope snapping from too much tension, her body shot up with the force of an arrow being loosed from a bow. Lydia cried out from the pain from the whiplash as it raced throughout her neck. But she could move. She never felt more free as she sat up on the altar and moved her neck, gyrating it to get rid of the stiffness one could only get from a paralysis spell.
The tents that surrounded Lydia were even uglier up close, and she was surrounded by poles with goat's heads on them. She didn't know how they got that many goats, how they kept their severed heads preserved, or where they got the rubies they used to replace their eyes and she didn't care.
Lydia was going to kill a Hagraven.
"Oh, there you are!" Lydia could hear her Thane's ragged voice call out to her left.
She turned and saw the Dragonborn hunched over the corpse of Enid, his hands covered in blood and soot.
Lydia wasn't going to kill a Hagraven.
"They didn't hurt you did they?" Faolan asked as he stepped over the corpse and walked over to her, "Shit, looks like they got some of your face. Shouldn't be too bad but, if it's the old hag that got you, you'll definitely need to clean the scratches before they become infected. I once knew a man from the Side who got scratched by a wee kitten. He died a day later."
"That spell…" Lydia ground out.
"Hm?"
"That spell is bullshit!" she yelled before turning around kicking the stone altar. She would be thankful later for her steel-toed boots.
"Huh? What'd they hit you with?" asked Faolan with more curiosity than concern in his tone.
"Some fucking paralysis spell! How should I know?"
Her Thane let out a sympathetic hiss as his eyes drifted to the altar behind her, "Yeah… those spells are nasty. And the enchantments are even worse, trust me. But, hey, at least you found Nettlebane, eh?"
"My Thane," she growled, causing his wary eyes to dart back to her, "I don't even know what a Nettlebane is."
"Oh? I never told you?" Faolan wondered as he sidestepped around her to reach the altar, "It's this nasty little thing."
In his hand was a crooked dagger that looked like it was made out of ebony. It was, in all honesty, truly a nasty little thing. The sharp edges and cratered black metal looked primitive and it had a sickly, green tint to it that made it seem like it was poisonous.
Faolan inspected it, his brown eyes roving over the bilious blade before he nodded himself, "And we're gonna save the Gildergreen with this nasty little thing. After we see the Greybeards about this Dragonborn business, of course."
Lydia sighed, "First off, let's just agree never to say 'nasty little thing' every again. Second off, why and how are we saving the Gildergleem?"
"Right." the Dragonborn said as he wrapped Nettlebane in a cloth and placed it in his satchel, "Well, Danica caught me before the whole Thane ceremony happened and asked me to go on this quest for her. She told me I would have to go to Orphan Rock and I noticed that it was on the way to Hrigh Hothgar-wait, no- High Hrothgar , so I said: why not? That, and there's also the fact that Whiterun is a bit too yellow for my taste so I thought restoring the Gildergreen would give it a nice splash of color."
"You're going on a quest to save one of the most sacred trees in the world because you think Whiterun is too drab?"
"Well… I wouldn't put it exactly like that…"
"Of all the people to become Thane of our home…" Lydia murmured to herself before shaking her head and turning to look up at the sun, "Let's just get out of here, we should reach the pass before sundown."
"You're right. Let's just loot their chests and then get out of here."
Lydia sighed once more. Definitely a curse.