AN: Hello all, I must warn everyone that this story will have a distinct thing than most Skyrim stories out there and well, some might find it distasteful, but I am just using what I understand from Elder Scrolls lore, everyone are fucking pricks.
You have been warned.
No matter the land, many love to gather at taverns not only to enjoy a good drink with their fellow friends but also to hear stories of distant lands or tales from retired adventurers, inspiring the youth to follow their steps and leave their hometown for the sake of adventure, riches, and excitement on distant lands.
Usually, that's the story of many who arrived in the cold lands of Skyrim.
And Belanor was no exception to that assumption, except he had aimed to become as famous as his family ancestor, legends that stretched from Auridon to Morrowind
However, he couldn't just arrive and suddenly gain widespread fame from the very beginning, the reason he had planned to come to Skyrim as a sellsword, a very simple tactic to reliably spread his name, and the current political turmoil within the land would make it easier for him to land a lucrative job as a bodyguard. Yet his initial plan came crashing down as he woke up in the cold stone fortress of Windhelm, the last place he ever wanted to be.
He immediately demanded his money back from the captain, but the nord only laughed at his face and kicked him out of the ship with the help of his peers. The high elf was glad of his quick reflex to put his hand in front or he would have met the floor made of stone face to face.
What truly irritated him more was the laughter of everyone in his vicinity at his misfortune. He had no option but to leave the scene towards the gigantic doors of the docks to enter the walled city and leave everything behind and focus on his current plight.
With nobody to turn to for help, he had no other option but to prepare for a long journey across the land of Skyrim to reach Solitude, practically to go from one side to the other side.
Despite the growing cold, the sun was still up in the sky, providing warmth and illumination for him to make his way across the lower districts of the city to reach the upper district. However, he soon discovered how much his very pale gold hue skin and his short white silver hair stood out from the enormous crowds of Dark-elves with their ashen skin, and his long blue coat with a red scarf wrapped around his neck didn't help him to bend with the crowd that was actively staring at him with their red eyes.
Belanor increased the pace of his feet trying to leave the district as soon as possible, as the ominous feeling was very unwelcoming, and the growing feeling of danger for his safety crept into his mind.
He lasted mere seconds before he tightened the grip on his bag and broke into a full sprint towards the stone stairs.
He ignored his surroundings and only focused on reaching his objective. When his boots were on the first steps, he let out a brief sigh, opening himself for a moment of rest from the small outburst. Yet he felt relief as he was no longer in such a dangerous place anymore and could see at the end of the stairs the more illuminated streets of the city of Windhelm.
But at the back of his mind, he was scolding himself from fearing mere beggars. How could he hope to become a bodyguard, even less a renown adventurer, if he was easily frightened by dirty mer.
In those last moments, he was so focused on himself that he forgot his surroundings and the passing people, however very few went their way, instead they stood and watched him and the whispers between them started. His hearing wasn't very developed enough to hear what the humans were talking between themselves, but with a simple glance, he could notice the hostility in their eyes.
He merely sighed and strengthened his coat. It was disappointing to watch.
What disappointed him even further was the city guard, who came forward from the crowd and stood in front of him with his arms crossed, trying to look down on him. From the short distance between them, he could see the disdain in those eyes behind his helmet.
"Don't cause trouble, pointy ears." The guard warned.
"Soon I will leave, do not trouble yourself." The young elf suppressed his desire to spit at the guard. All the stress was causing a headache, and he had no desire to develop into a migraine.
"Excellent choice, now get out of my sight." The human stood firmly in place rather than giving him room to move just to childishly prove his strength.
"Thalmor dog!" Someone from the crowd shouted, but it died down immediately since nobody followed up with the accusation.
Belanor kept walking, but he suppressed the anger boiling inside him. He was no dog, neither a sympathizer of that group. They were the last thing he wanted to be related to, yet that didn't matter, even if he wasn't the so-called pureblood High elf. He would still carry himself with pride and wouldn't let an inferior race say otherwise, but in any other place, he would have gladly confronted whoever said that and even attacked bystanders to reinforce his point.
The upper districts did not differ from the lower ones, he got the same hostility from the passing crowd, he should have bought a long fur cloak and hood before traveling to Skyrim, not only it would have helped him with the cold but also to hide himself from the crowd. He didn't want to hide out of shame but for practical reasons, as he was slowly realizing that things might be different and he wouldn't get as much negative attention as he was getting or any attention at all.
His mind was so lost in thought that he only came back to the real world when he stumbled into a corner stonewall. He was lucky, only his right shoulder was the affected area, leaving a sore spot, but that didn't make it a less unpleasant experience.
His gaze quickly shifted to his surroundings and noticed several stands filled with merchandise, like an entire street filled with them, deducing that it was the market district or whatever the nords called it. It was a very fortunate occurrence, since he needed to arrive there in the first place to gather enough supplies for his journey to Solitude.
Going further into the district, he examined the first stands to see a wide variety of merchandise on display on each stand, while they specialized a few in a single product. However, what the high elf could tell with a quick glance was most sellers were humans.
He kept walking, checking every stand he passed, from common food to weapons, few offering trinkets, and accessories. There was an internal rationalization to explain such heavy favoritism to what could be war supplies, anything to support the ongoing war effort.
But he kept looking and his attention was caught on the shops that were offering furs and bedrolls made of thick made of bears, fur or wolves. The texture was rough, but he didn't doubt their ability to keep him warm for the night.
"How much for a set?" He finally asked the nord merchant, the nord features were too obvious to miss, like the long rugged beard. Without it, he could have assumed the human was a Breton.
The merchant raised an eyebrow. "Set?"
"A camping set for frosty nights." Belanor clarified.
"251 septims." The nord disinterested reply wasn't what he was hoping for and his gaze wandered to the next shop, which sadly didn't sell what he needed, meaning he had to move further.
"I see..." He calmly left the shop in search of an alternative. It wasn't because he could afford it, but it was quite expensive for his current budget, since he also needed to buy food and other potential traveling expenses.
Belanor kept looking at the shops and occasionally asked for a price, but the answers weren't satisfactory, the pricing didn't drop considerably and sometimes it went up. He could feel he went through the entire district looking and failing to find a better price. With some deliberation, he came to terms to sacrifice some of his comfort in maintaining his budget, as money was the most important resource until he could find work to sustain himself.
With a bitter smile, he returned to the first vendor and purchased a fur bedroll with a couple of fur cloaks. His new acquisitions were slightly heavier than he expected. He dropped the bedroll and spun his cloak and tied it around his neck and shoulders.
The effects felt almost instantly. The cloak cut off the chilly breezes around him, providing warmth, and it didn't feel as heavy once it was resting on his shoulders compared when he was holding it with his arms.
The bedroll was simple to solve as well since it included leather belts that, according to the human, he could strap them around his waist for easier transport or around a backpack if he had one.
While it wasn't the best of the best, he could already tell they would do their job well enough. But that brought up his second issue. An enormous weight on his shoulder was placed as he held his chin in deep thought on how to proceed with the next issue at hand.
Food and water, his initial plan was to find the best prices at Solitude since it was a large trade hub of the Empire, giving him an ample selection of goods. But since he was in Windhelm and after walking through the district, he didn't have less to choose from and while it wasn't of inferior quality; the food was fresh and wouldn't last him for weeks.
"You don't seem to have a good time, traveler."
A newcomer's voice interrupted his train of thought, forcing him to look at the woman who addressed him, and the first thing he noticed was the radiant amber color of her skin along with her green eyes but that was most that he could see since she was wearing a cloak and hoodie covering most of her body.
However, he was very surprised to encounter a fellow high elf in the city. And he became even more surprised when the realization struck him that she was the owner of the shop, which somehow missed his eyes when he was exploring the place.
A long sigh followed the momentary silence between them, one who could finally understand his problems and rant for a little while to vent the growing frustration that had been building up.
"You think? Those snow brains were supposed to dock at Solitude. High taxes, they say. Didn't even give me my money back." The high elf held his head, the face of the captain still fresh on his mind, the malicious desire that the caption hopefully steps of horse dung.
She gave him a faint smile, slowly leaning on the wood of her counter. "It takes a long time to somewhat understand them and even find them amusing. I enjoy it when they get drunk and ramble on about how they will beat the Thalmor."
An image quickly formed in his head, causing him to chuckle. "That must be quite the sight."
"Of course it is, however some take it a step forward and trouble arises." She let out a long sigh of disappointment.
His amusement ended and wrinkled his nose when he understood her words. "I assume it doesn't end well."
The elf shrugged. "Magic is very useful to maintain peace, a single firebolt to their feet is enough to have them running. But getting to know the right people and establishing some connection makes living here bearable."
Belanor compared her situation to his almost immediately, and he could understand the social gap between the two. With no backing, it was obvious why he became a target as soon as he stepped into the city. Yet with some effort, he could change his standing and reputation, but he was resolved to leave the city and not look back.
"I will keep your advice in mind, but since my plans have been wrecked, I will need food and water for a long journey."
The high elf brought up a couple of hardtacks and cured meat to the table first. Belanor's first reaction to what they could consider food was slight repulsion, food with little to no flavor and barely edible, but at least would satiate his hunger.
Then she placed two empty water skins next to the food.
"I would suggest that you travel south towards Whiterun. Winter will arrive soon; you should hurry."
"Thanks for the warning, but if I depart as soon as possible, it would mean traveling alone, which doesn't sound like a good idea." His way of thought and concerns weren't without reasons, as civil unrest and decadence attracted banditry or the vast wild fauna that was described in the books which could rip lone travelers to shreds.
She shook her head, which reaffirmed his suspicions. "It isn't, especially around these lands."
"Why?" The last part piqued his interest, instinctively leaning closer to hear better what she had to say.
She checked her surroundings and leaned closer to his ears so few, if any, could hear them. "You are more likely to be attacked by those Stormcloaks than bandits."
There was a moment of silence, allowing the news to properly sink in before he straightened his posture.
He held the bridge of his nose as he let out his frustration with a long sigh. "That's why I wanted to be in Solitude."
"Like I said before, head to Whiterun first. There are many routes from there that are far safer than here."
"I will take it into consideration." He pulled out a handful of septims and placed them on the counter. "Is this enough?"
The high elf separated the coins and counted them in silence in groups of two, putting them aside until there were no more coins in her hands. "It is, pleasure doing business with you."
He nodded and stuffed the food into his bag and grabbed the water-skins, giving him a new destination since he needed to fill his drinks from the city well, and paying for ale or mead wasn't on his mind as he preferred more refined alcoholic beverages.
His short walk was different compared to earlier, as he didn't feel the icy wind on his skin thanks to his recently acquired fur cloak, and with one of his problems solved, his mind could focus on his surroundings and other miscellaneous things.
The stone streets and walls were interesting to gaze at as Windlhem looked more like a gigantic fortress rather than a city. The streets were both wide and tight so the formation of soldiers could easily move around and create a bottleneck in case of an attack. And they also made the houses of bricks of stone, sturdy buildings perfect for garrison and defense.
He wasn't an expert in military affairs, but it was common knowledge, or at least that's how the books described the situation and battles of past eras.
The people were more focused on their daily lives rather than paying attention to him, moving carts filled with metals and bags of food to the market, that was how it went until one man noticed his presence, the face of the nord furrowed into a frown but remained silent and kept moving but just as he got close to the young elf, the nord used his shoulder to hit him to the side causing him to stumble; almost losing his balance.
Belanor scowled as it was the same side that hit the wall time ago, but he didn't want to cause a scene, as he was sure the city guards would cause him a lot of trouble despite him being the one who had been wronged.
Swallowing his pride once again, he ignored the nord transgression and kept walking with his mind fogged with frustration, putting an end to his sightseeing of the city interiors. He kept walking, avoiding any eye contact with the people that got close to him and kept his distance from them, resulting in walking right next to the walls of the buildings until a small hand appeared in front of him, stopping him.
Giving a few steps more he noticed the owner was a little girl wearing a very thin cloak that covered most of her body, on a closer look he noticed the blue eyes and a pale complexion on her face, and the cloak she was using to keep the warmth was far from being called one as the grey fabric had more resemblance to the sails of ships than clothes.
The young elf checked his surroundings before reaching his bag of septims, where he pulled out a couple.
"A kid shouldn't be alone in the cold." He placed a pair of septims on her hands, which quickly closed around them.
"Thank you, thank you so much." The little girl hugged the coin between her hands as her life depended on it, choking back her emotions.
It was rather unexpected to witness as he was accustomed to beggars thanking his good deeds and leaving to extend their hand to another passerby. However, beggars were beggars and he couldn't wonder about the circumstances of each one of those people, as it was a waste of his time and most, if not all the time, they were beggars because they fell into the disgusting skooma addiction.
He turned and left the sobbing little girl behind, but his mind assaulted him with curiosity, making him turn to check on the little girl who remained in the same place in the same position while the crowd that passed close by completely ignored her.
It was still strange to him but he would not observe forever as he had a schedule to fulfill and never turned back so he could follow his path uninterrupted to the gates of the city.
Arriving at the place, he noticed only one gate was open that allowed people to enter and leave freely the city walls, the guards in charge only keeping watch.
He simply followed a random citizen to the gates and walked with his head low. It would be a lie if he said he didn't feel nervous. However, the guards didn't say a thing to him and remained in their position like stalwarts, allowing him to cross the gates without issues and take a new breath of fresh air.
With the city finally behind him, he could finally begin his journey and achieve his goals and appreciate the outside world, a large mountain in the distance and the road that seems endless at the end of the busy bridge. But to his left, he could catch a glimpse of buildings catching his curiosity, but he didn't pursue it and gave his first steps outside towards what he could assume were the stables, judging by how big the building was.
A single dark elf was outside sitting on a chair with his arms crossed, the ash skin standing out compared to his white tunic and his grey long messy hair. He appeared to be sleeping despite how noisy the bridge and people were, but that doubt vanished when he got closer and an empty bottle on the floor came into view.
"Pardon my interruption but, are there any caravans or carriages going to Whiterun or the other holds?" Either way, he still went ahead to speak with the dark elf to ask for directions, as he believed it would have a better chance than the humans.
The dark elf slowly raised his head, furrowing his brows, visibly annoyed by Belanor standing in front of him and taking away his moment of rest.
Belanor was expecting him to lash out, yet he only extended his right arm to point at the road that connected with the bridge.
"Down the road...follow the river direction."
The high elf maintained his silence and followed the new directions, leaving the recently awoken dark elf behind with his solitude, who didn't waste time and tried to catch his sleep once again.
AN: Technically this will be easier to write and maybe faster, maybe not since I already mapped it out and sketched the entire story. I hope you enjoy this adventure, and I'm sure you will recognize some elements of the stories that will come in the future.
