Nisil inhaled sharply in astonishment as tears rimmed his eyes.
As if he had timed the crescendo of his sojourn perfectly, dawn broke as he crested the mountain range dividing the Rift from Eastmarch.
Sunlight raced across the lush valley beyond and sculpted the magnificent land into view. The sea of trees stretched between the stony crags and lined the entire view below: parted only by two massive lakes and the rivers feeding them. Numerous cliffs and ruins dotted the landscape, while acting as beacons for travelers.
Nisil's legs trembled from exertion as he led a wobbling Escanor off the road for a much needed break. He knew they were far west of his intended destination of Riften. Nevertheless, he was sore, tired, and very much grateful to be alive.
After their run in with one of Skyrim's most ferocious, Nisil and his obnoxious yet beloved donkey had crept quietly along the river's edge. They forded in the shallows and took refuge in a small riverside hollow for a few hours' rest.
The nap had served them well. Nisil exhaled, dropping Escanor's lead as they both caught their breath and gazed into the expanse before them. It had taken them since just after midnight to summit the southern mountains, and the combination of dirt and cobble switchbacks had not been easy.
It had been well worth it, Nisil felt, admiring the beauty that stretched before him. Perhaps their misdirection was a welcome one?
He pondered what opportunities the greater lands of the Rift held for him.
He wished his father could have seen the fruitful lands of promise that now stretched before his son.
Escanor groaned as Nisil pulled her to a stop once more to open her saddle bags. He rifled through the haphazardly stored tools and eventually wrenched free his newly obtained shears.
He quickly kneeled and examined the purple flowers and branching leaves intently.
Escanor clicked her heels on the cobble: exaggerating her neigh.
"Purple Mountain Flower!" Nisil exclaimed, stowing his lens. "Escanor!" he spun, dropping his shears and quickly recovering them.
He strode over and grabbed her face in his hands. "It's fresh Purple Mountain Flower!" Nisil smiled broadly, inhaling the refreshing morning air as he withdrew, arms spread wide in ecstasy.
The remainder of their travel proceeded in this same manner, with Nisil exclaiming and racing over to any unfamiliar bug or plant as Escanor tolerated his joy.
Before long, the duo approached the hamlet of Ivarstead and Nisil now felt as if he were in the realm of stories in the shadow of High Hrothgar. For many years his father had told him of the Red Mountain and the Throat of the World.
Nisil reminisced and looked past the town out onto Lake Geir. Picturesque, its waters teemed with fish and dartwings, and the woods beyond teemed with fragrant herbs.
Nisil's spirits were high as he entered town, and as the recipient of numerous polite greetings he enjoyed this breath of fresh air from the colds of Windhelm. After quickly falling in love with Ivarstead, he decided to set up his camp on a hill to the southeast, overlooking Lake Geir.
Nisil's intended stop for the day easily extended to several as he embraced the area as his own.
His life was simple, yet peaceful. Nisil gladly spent his time cutting wood for Temba the lumberjack, fishing for salmon along the banks of Lake Geir, and sun bathing with Escanor after meals.
He found these days to be some of the most pleasant of his life thus far, and after Escanor's hard life in the snowy mountains, Nisil planned on her living out the rest of it in leisure in the sun with him.
Nisil was no fisherman, nor was he a lumberjack, however, and thus he was quickly drawn to the woods surrounding his camp. He rediscovered the wild forms of many of the preserved ingredients he was already familiar with from Rolff's ill-managed storeroom.
This call to the wild quickly developed into a burning desire to practice his craft, and in short order, he was grinding roots and distilling flowers. Nisil quickly realized his experiments needed more room and equipment than a few boulders, a fire pit, and a chopping block would allow, but his gratitude for the southern lifestyle abounded and he was content.
Two weeks after his first arrival to the Rift, Nisil prepared to travel to his original destination: Riften. Running low on glassware and a few ingredients as a result of successful mixtures and clumsiness in the outdoor lab, Nisil gathered up the few potions of which he was proud. He placed rations in his pack, kissed Escanor goodbye, and headed to the city: leaving Escanor as queen of the camp in his stead.
Nisil begrudgingly reached into his coin purse and counted out Septims. Handing the purple clad guard ten coins, he somberly stashed the leather bag in his belt once more. The ten Septims he relinquished was half of what he had earned from Temba, and it did him great pain to part from it.
"Yer' welcome, elf," the other Nord guard said, opening the heavy wooden door into the city.
Nisil quickly passed them and entered Riften for the first time. He could not help but feel the moment was soured by the unexpected 'traveler's tax' he had encountered at the gate.
After weeks of living in the open expanses of Skyrim, he immediately recognized the oppressive nature of entering a city once more.
"Can't say it's good to be back to this," he muttered as he began to pick his way through the crowd.
"What?" A hoarse voice behind him called.
Taken aback, Nisil quickly turned to face a grizzled Nord. The man immediately wrenched him up by the front of his cloak and dug his steel gauntlets into Nisil's chest.
The man's lank black hair hung inches from Nisil's face as he grasped at the man's forearm in panic. Shoved back once more by the brute, Nisil struck a wooden beam and was pinned against it.
Feebly, Nisil struggled as the man growled, "I don't know who you are, elf," and paused, "but I already have my eye on you."
"I… wai…" Nisil gasped.
"You… Ya…" the man mocked viciously, "You'll stay the fuck clear of the Black-Briars if you know what's good for ya. And far out of any trouble, got it?"
Tears streamed down Nisil's face: now turning molten once more from terror, confusion, and embarrassment.
A throng gathered and watched.
The attack dog shoved Nisil against the beam with his elbow, eliciting a response from his victim.
Nisil nodded sourly.
"Good."
He pulled Nisil forward and then shoved him back onto the cobble.
"Watch yourself… mirk," he sneered. The man then turned and the crowd quickly parted in his path.
Nisil snarled at that word, disgusted. He gazed at the man's back and grasped his satchel: wishing he had something special for the big target swaggering away.
The sun was blocked momentarily and shade drew over Nisil's form. He looked up to see a figure towering over him.
The figure, a blonde Nord woman, knelt beside him and spoke, "Friend," she began. Her accent was thick and voice powerful, yet she grasped his shoulder more gently than he had expected.
"I see you've met Maul, Maven's little attack pup. Are you alright, daeljuhn?"
Nisil was surprised once more at her command of his native tongue, and accepted the helping hand up.
He nodded, "Thank you."
As she spoke, he brushed himself off and hung his head. The woman introduced herself as she led him to the side of the street, which had now resumed its bustle. Mjoll the Lioness eased him onto a bench to sit for a moment.
The conversation flowed slowly at first, but her comforting presence quickly eased his racing heart and wounded pride. Soon, she vividly depicted her travels into Morrowind with her father, and Nisil spoke of his homeland and time in Windhelm. He took care to omit some of the more scandalous bits.
At length, she stood and imparted some final wisdom.
"Riften is a good place at heart, but a corrupted one nonetheless. Do be mindful, but don't walk with fear, my dear. Please seek me or Aerin out if you encounter any more trouble."
Nisil expressed his gratitude, and she squeezed his arm in parting. He watched her walk through the crowd. As the lioness walked in their midst, most of the common folk flocked past her to offer greetings or a pleasant smile.
The irony of meeting two very different Nords in such short order was not lost on him, as he watched the crowd mill about.
The musty aroma of the apothecary was a welcome relief to Nisil's nostrils which were currently being unplugged from the putrid smell of algae and sewage outside.
As his eyes adjusted and he looked around the shop, his mouth dropped and eyes widened.
A wonderfully diverse spread of hangings and cuttings dangled from the rafters: forming herb chandeliers. Insects crawled on the inside of jars and rattled wicker cages. Burners simmered swirling elixirs in retort and pear-shaped flasks on the workbench.
Nisil was amazed at the promise a shop like this held compared to Rolff's Remedies: a haphazard abomination of an apothecary, run by a washed-up ale brewer.
"May I help you, sera?" A sweet voice rang through the dimly lit room.
Nisil's attention snapped to the workbench. A young woman's face was framed by the lattice of glassware and stands. Evidently, each had been so invested in admiring ingredients and brewing potions they had hardly noticed the other's presence.
"Pardon me," Nisil blurted as he grew ill at ease whilst she rose: revealing a shapely form wrapped in a fine lab coat. Without her face distorted through the glass, he could see how beautiful she was.
Her long brown hair was drawn back into a bun, yet a single thin braid hung down and framed her symmetrical face. He saw her skin was as white and fair as snowberries and lips as red as fire salts. An ice wraith's teeth would pale in comparison to the blue in her eyes.
"Uhm…" Nisil started, as words caught in his throat.
She smiled warmly and jotted down a quick note in her ledger whilst glancing up at him. "If you're here for Maester Elgrim, he and his wife are out at the moment, my apologies." Pausing, she continued optimistically, "I may be able to help you with some of our offerings, however."
Nisil froze, at a loss for words as he grew increasingly nervous.
'Ask her about her flowers, Nisil,' a familiar, fatherly voice echoed from the past.
After a moment of contemplation, which felt like ages to him, Nisil smiled and his resolve was bolstered.
As he glanced over the multitude of familiar ingredients, he forced himself to speak in measured tones. "No need to apologize, my lady. I'm a newcomer to the Rift, and… I can't say I know half of what I'm looking at… Might you be willing to tell me more?"
Blue lightening flashed across the woman's eyes, and she gleamed. "Of course, sera" she started, as she too looked about the shop in shared wonder.
Author's Note: Snowberries in-game are red (some real-life snowberries are), but I implore you to look them up online. The ones I found (and savored) whilst hiking in New Zealand were a beautiful white! Thanks so much for the support, guys! See you all next Friday!