This takes place before the story of Ragnavir Trun.
A part of her hated Riften. The thief infested sewers, the obvious and unapologetic corrupt system, and not to mention every time she visited it items always went missing from her bags. No matter how much she tries to keep her attention on them. The only reason the Dragonborn still visits the town at all was that of a job she promised to do. Well, there were two reasons. The first was to make sure the orphanage was in better hands than it used to be. Occasionally she would stop by with sweets and coins for the children within it, and the other, well that was the job.
Her eyes look over to the forge, and the only decent adult she knew from this whole town, Balimund. He was a Nord, tall, strong, and kind. It was only after her first time visiting that he announced how she looked trustworthy. At least enough to ask for a job to be done. Collecting fire salts. Not the most difficult task she had done since arriving back at Skyrim, but also not the simplest. Yes, she could go to an alchemy or potion shop to buy the material, however, she chose the other route. Digging through the wilds, doing other jobs, and clearing out dungeons. Along the way always looking out for those fire salts. The ones that gave her a reason to go back.
The first time she found one it was a day and a half ride back to Riften. If it was not for Shadowmere's amazing stamina the trip would have been twice as long. J'Zargo's nearly constant complaining helped none. His quips and amazing talent with magic were the reasons she kept him around. Both of which came in handy on the way. Their arrival was met with the same wave of awe, suspicion, and despisal as it had the first time. Whenever the gates open up, she could feel her skin crawl.
J'zargo stayed close enough to her whenever they visit that she could always feel his breath on her neck, and that time had been no exception. With a khajiit by her side, her way was quickly made through Riften to the forge. The salt was in her left hand as she knocked on his front door with her right. The blonde man met her with a look of surprise.
"Did you get all the salts already?"
"I have one of them." She replies already able to tell where this conversation was going.
"Oh, well I really need all of them." He replies, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Ah. I see. Here take this one and I will get you ten more still." The Dragonborn offers still holding out the fire salt.
"Wouldn't that be out of your way?" He asks wrinkling his eyes. His son Asbjorn gently pushing past his father with a handful of iron ingots.
"No. Not much difference one makes when there is still nine others I need. I'll still fetch you ten more." She watches as Asbjorn begins putting steel to an already melted and reformed iron ingot. It would make a decent sword for many of the people in this town. Far better then what the thieves deserved. "How are you and your son doing? I know this town isn't always kind to those who are skilled and trying to make a living."
J'zargo hisses behind her. A sign he felt she was being rude to intrude on such private matters. Thieves do as thieves do in his opinion. They had little right to judge them when they often go digging through graves for their own coin. His point was valid, still, she felt a certain disdain for them. Especially those who harm good men and women for the hell of it. It just so happens that Balimund and his son were some of the few good people she had met since returning to Skyrim.
"He is doing well. Testing his skills with more advanced techniques, but he isn't called fire-tamer for no reason. The boy is able to do much more than I was at his age." Balimund answers as they turn to see the flames rise high over the weapon. Without so much as even flinching Asbjorn quickly flips the weapon in progress and quells the flames around it.
"How is yours?" Ask the blacksmith. She was surprised he remembered her telling him of Blaise.
"He is good. A vampire attack happened in Whiterun. He woke up in the middle of us combating them, thankfully everyone survived just fine. He had his wooden sword by his side as if he too was ready to fight them back. I worry he will seek put trouble, much like my brother and I did."
If he was surprised to hear about the Dragonborn's family Balimund didn't show it. Instead, he offers some advice. "You should give the boy a blade. Even if it is only a knife. Skyrim is a dangerous place right now. Everyone needs to learn how to protect themselves."
He was right, and she had considered giving Blaise a weapon and some training. He was a young boy not even a teen yet. Though she had been younger when she found the young Argonian named Rex. Losing her parents after leaving Skyrim, having to steal and fight for food, then taking an orphan Argonian under her wing had been a lot on the extremely young Dragonborn. It all started with her fathering and mother teaching her magic and knives. Her magic got them killed, Blaise did not need those burdening skills yet.
"Do you think you would ever leave Riften?" Yarrick asks still watching Asbjorn.
"Maybe. This town needs a blacksmith, and I'm not sure Asbjorn is ready to run this store all by himself."
"Then I guess I will have to come back to see you both again." She offers the man a smile from over her shoulder.
"We will wait patiently," Balimund replies, smiling in return.
"You two really are my only reasons for visiting this town. Well besides making sure the orphans have enough treats." She tells him trying to sound nonchalant.
"Careful Dragonborn. If the others hear you, they may think you an easy target after all."
A hearty laugh escapes her as she shows lighting sparks on the tips of her fingers and an elven blade on her hip. "Let them try Balimund. It gives me a reason to never deal with them again."
His smile turns to concern. Coughing Balimund walks over to stand next to his son. With his back to her, he says, "Good luck out there. I hope your return is speedy and the path is safe."
"Thank you." Was all she could think to say as her feet begin to lead her away.
Once the city gates were closed behind them Tiger Yarrick could feel her face growing hot. J'zargo purrs smugly as he peers from beside her to see it was a beet red. Rolling her eyes, she pushes him away and announces which dungeon they would be exploring next. Perhaps there would be some fire salts in there.
"Oh, and Blaise's birthday will be soon. Perhaps it is time to find his gift."
"Ah yes, that is a custom for some human groups."
"It is a custom for some non-humans groups as well." She points out recalling the first time she got her little brother a gift.
"Then I shall give him some of my fire scrolls."
"No! You are not setting my son on fire too."
"Please, they are improved. No explosions this time to harm self." J'zargo explains with a twitch of his whiskers.
"Get him some sweet buns. At least those won't get him killed, or burn my house down."
"They might if you cook them." J'zargo points out as the two continue to share banter. Every step taking them farther from the forsaken town of Riften, and all the dark days it causes the two to recall.