Author's Note: This is much shorter than the other chapters but I wanted continue writing off of what I already had so it didn't get stale in my mind. Yay productiveness. Again, thanks for reading readers!
The Thief Stone
I stared into the fire I had conjured feeling as lost as I had crossing the Skyrim border. I had been here a month and while I had gotten no closer to Riften or information on my birth father or the mysterious sender, my entire life had changed.
I would never be able to think of the Empire or the Legion the same again. My head had been on a chopping block. I had escaped a fiery death by an immortal legendary beast by inches. And I had killed a dragon.
Dragonborn, that's what Whiterun calls me, my temporary home. They called me a hero, someone destined for even bigger and better things. Three months ago I was Everlee, the Breton who had a weird obsession with sword play and was only mildly decent at magic. Now, now I was Dovahkiin. I sighed, and laid down by the fire.
As I lay half-asleep in the fading light, Ralof and the standing-stone incident (as I referred to it in my head) replayed in my head…again.
"These are the three of the standing stones. They are said to aid those who choose to be blessed by them. Here are the stones or the Warrior, the Mage, and the Thief. Check it out if you want, I think we've earned a rest anyway. I chose the Warrior when I was eleven, never changed it to this day. It just felt right to me, you'll know what I mean. One of these three stones will pull anyone in Skyrim that approaches them," Ralof had explained, sitting down at the base of the structures.
Intrigued I looked at the Mage stone first. This was the stone my mother would want me to chose, a reliable stone for a proper Breton's practices surely. I was only fairly decent at magic to her great frustration. I enjoyed it when I did it but I was never really drawn to it, not the way I was drawn to my other studies, studies I had chosen myself to do. I was much better at wielding a sword than any spell above novice level, and even better at bows than that.
No, I wouldn't be blessed by the Mage stone today, of that I was fairly certain. The only thing I felt looking upon it was a longing for the family I had left behind. I went to the Warrior stone, expecting something here, expecting to feel a pull towards this stone, its blessings wishing to bestowed upon me. I waited but only felt a small pull. This worried me. I had always assumed my calling was this and now it seemed I might be nothing special, have no calling at all, other than for lucky near-death escapes. I could chose this stone but it just didn't feel…the way I wanted it to. Dejected I looked at the last stone, trying not to show the disappointment on my face as Ralof watched me with mild interest, wanting to see what I was drawn to.
The Thief stone. I lifted my gaze to it and felt for a second as if gravity had refocused from the ground to the ancient stone in front of me. Without thinking I took a step forward and raised my hand. I had never stolen anything, never done anything remotely illegal or stealthy until my escape from Legion custody that morning. Sure, I had an uncanny ability to sneak in and out of places unnoticed but that happened when you had a mother pushing you constantly toward something you didn't want so you wouldn't "waste your beautiful gift." I was no thief, and yet, involuntarily my hand raised, inches from the stone, without thinking. Everything in me begged me to touch it, to accept the blessing of the Thief.
My hand hovered there, an inch maybe from the stone. My breathing was ragged. Some part of me wanted this more than anything I had wanted before but my mind rebelled. The Thief stone was for bandits, murders, and well, thieves. That wasn't me, and that wasn't what I wanted. But why, why then, did the ancient rock stir me this way?
Panting I dropped my arm to its side and stepped back, pulling my eyes away from it with great effort.
"I, I think we should go. If the Legion got out this way they could be coming any minute," I said, my voice just above a whisper.
"Um, yeah if you want, to be safe," Ralof said as he stood.
I could feel him looking at me as we continued downhill toward Riverwood but thankfully he didn't ask and he didn't stop. If we had paused even for a moment, I knew I would be turning and running back to the stone, to the Thief stone. A month later it called to me even now, as if half asleep miles away I could feel it mourning me, longing for me.