Chapter III
It was a cold, dark morning. The rain had got progressively heavier since the night before, and now hammered into the large puddles it left with tremendous force. The branches of Falkreath's majestic pine trees dripped and swayed in the wind.
As Jorall arrived at the station, he felt a bit sorry for the boys going on patrol; they would be very wet and very cold. He came to the front door of the station and turned the handle. The door swung open on its well-oiled hinges. "I'm not the first here, then" thought Jorall. He was usually there before anyone else. It was only quarter to six; the others didn't usually rack in until about six thirty.
Jorall stepped into the Entrance hall, shaking water from his hair and his scrubby beard. He hung up his large overcoat on the hooks behind the front desk, and headed into the hallway. He peered into the first door on his right; the briefing room. It was empty, but someone had lit the wall sconces. Jorall withdrew his head, and looked into the room to his left; the kitchen. Inside, Arnskar stood at the cooking fire, stirring away at a pot. He looked up as Jorall stepped into the room.
"Morning Jorall" He said brightly, his eyes twinkling from beneath his slightly damp eyebrows.
"Morning, Arnskar. A bit wet I see"
"I could say the same to you, friend! 'Tis a horrid day, but at least you and I get to stay inside." Said Arnskar. He was always very optimistic, something that Jorall liked about him.
"That's very true. What are you cooking there?" Jorall (And most of the Rangers) had breakfast just before the daily briefing. Jorall and Arnskar would have lunch and dinner there as well, today. There were on duty at the Station.
"A big pot of nice hot porridge. Should be ready for when everyone else gets here."
Jorall sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, and talked to Arnskar about the weather, and asked how Hilda was. One by One, the other Rangers arrived, and by the time it was twenty past six, Thormir, Kjeld and Cyrus had arrived. Nels had today off, and Rona was away on business for the Jarl. Arnskar served them all steaming bowls off porridge, which they all accepted gladly on such a cold, miserable day. By the time they had all finished it was almost half past six, so Jorall sent them into the briefing room, down the hall.
The Rangers filed in and took their seats. Jorall walked past them, to the front of the room, where there was a map of Falkreath Hold on the wall. He turned to face them, saying "Morning Rangers."
They mumbled a general reply, and Jorall continued. "Alright, I'll keep this as brief as I can. On patrol today… Kjeld, Cyrus and Thormir. Cyrus, anything you want to do other than that?"
Cyrus thought for a moment before saying, " I heard old Lod talking outside. He was saying… that he's seen a Khajiit wandering around just outside town…" Cyrus didn't finish his sentence, merely raising his eyebrows at Jorall.
Jorall scratched his chin, and replied "If you see anyone like that, you know how to deal with their sort. Otherwise, don't go searching for him. Lod could be talking nonsense. Wouldn't be the first time." Cyrus nodded.
"Alright, Thormir," Said Jorall " Have you anything to add to your patrol order?"
"No….I don't think so."
"Good. Just business as usual for you then."
Jorall looked at Kjeld, who shifted uncomfortably "Kjeld, you look worried. Is something wrong?"
"Ahh. No, no" Kjeld did not look Jorall in the eye, and sounded shaky, both of which were very uncharacteristic of him.
"Hmm… You don't sound so sure. But anyway, you know what you're doing today? Going to speak to Andir, up near Helgen?" Jorall pointed to a point just south of Helgen, on the map.
"Yes, I… I'll be there about… I should be there about eleven this morning. Is that alright?"
Jorall waved his hand "Yeah, that's fine. I checked his permit yesterday, and he's always been fine with us before. I don' think there's any harm in him, so if that's what you're worried about, don't be." Kjeld nodded, but remained silent and worried looking. He was a smallish Nord, short but stocky. He was the second oldest of the Rangers, at thirty-six. Only Nels, at thirty-nine outstripped him in years. Kjeld's short hair was starting to grey, and he had got rid of his beard some time ago.
"That's fine then." Said Jorall "Arnskar and I are holding the Station today, so.." he nodded at his Second In Command "Alright you three, go get your armour on and grab your gear. I'll see you all later." With that, the three patrolling Rangers stood, and headed for the armoury. Within ten minutes, they were dressed in their custom, lightweight armour, and fully kitted with weaponry, food and water. They were out the door before seven.
"Well friend, what're we doing with ourselves today?" said Arnskar to Jorall. "The stores got tidied yesterday, and I can't really think of what else we have to do."
Jorall scratched his beard, thinking. "Well, with the weather like this, I don't much fancy going far. Why don't we do a bit of practice until lunchtime, get a bite to eat, then see what needs done after then?"
"Sounds good"
The men headed into the hallway, and right down to the end. Arnskar opened the training room door, and entered. Jorall came in a moment later carrying their bows and axes. "Damn, this thing's heavy!" he said, handing Hilda to Arnskar.
"Hey, she's just right. You're just weak!" Arnskar let out his booming laugh. "I bet I can do more push-ups than you!"
Jorall laid the bows and his axe on the table. "Ha-ha! A challenge, eh? Care to make it interesting? Winner gets the others day off this week?"
"Absolutely! Looks like I'll enjoy Sundas then!" thundered Arnskar.
"We'll see, big man!" with that the men dropped to the floor, their arms pressing like pistons.
xXx
Meanwhile, some distance away, Kjeld was cold and feeling sick. This weather wasn't good for him. "If I could," he thought," I'd retire; move somewhere nice, like Cyrodiil. I'd love to see the Imperial City." He surfaced from his reverie, and quickened his pace. The quicker he could get inside, the better. And the likeliest prospect of a roof lay with visiting Andir.
Kjeld was unsure as to why he felt so ill today. He didn't drink that much the night before, or eaten anything of questionable quality. "Must just be the cold" he muttered to himself. He decided to walk through a dense patch of trees; at least they'd give his some shelter from the pelting rain.
At this rate, Kjeld would be at his goal earlier than he'd estimated; it was only seven thirty, and at his current pace, he would be there at around nine.
xXx
Far to the west of the hold, Rona was having problems of her own, of a much more immediate and dangerous nature than Kjeld's. She had been investigating a suspected Bandit camp for the Jarl. Orders were to see if there actually was one, and to find out numbers if there was.
It had been going well, despite the rain. Rona hadn't encountered anyone on the way there, although she did not always stick to the roads. She had arrived at the place at about seven fifteen, and looked it over from a small hill nearby. It was a collection of three large tents in a small grove, with a campfire and a large chest in the centre of the camp. After several minutes of watching and seeing no movement, Rona crept lightly down the incline and into the camp. The tents were devoid of life, containing only empty bedrolls. In the one on the far left however, there were no bedrolls, just a sturdy table with a diary, several empty mead bottles, and a quill pen on it. Rona picked up the diary and opened it. There was little of interest for several pages; they detailed the owner's journey from Markarth to this location. It had been chosen because of its proximity to a busy trade route. This at least confirmed the suspicions; they were bandits alright. The last entry was the most disturbing. The bandits had intercepted a Khajiit caravan and had stopped the cats. After the Khajiit were relieved of their goods, they were killed on the roadside like animals. The writer of the diary seemed to feel no remorse for this act.
At that moment, Rona heard voices, and they were getting louder. Ducking down behind the table, she angled her head so that she could see out the door of the tent. Three men were approaching, talking and laughing. When they got close enough, Rona could make out what they were saying- "… Yeah, should fetch a decent price, I reckon. Maybe five hundred Septims, maybe six hundred."
The men stopped in the central area, and the one who seemed to be the leader fumbled at his belt. He produced a key, and bent over to unlock the chest. He pulled open the lid, and dropped in a jewelled ring, some finely tailored clothes, and a small, shiny gemstone. Rona considered her options; there was no chance of sneaking past them, and she couldn't sit in this tent for ever. She would have to confront them.
She drew her axe, stepping out of the tent as the leader locked the chest again. The trio jumped, startled, when they saw her. The leader regained his composure quickly however, and looked her up and down. " Who do we have here boys?" he began to walk towards Rona, but she raised her axe slightly, and he stopped.
"I am a Falkreath Ranger. Couldn't you tell by the armour?" She almost smiled at her retort.
"Of course I could girl, I'm not a fool. We've been expecting a visit from someone like you." He pulled off his heavy steel helmet, and regarded Rona cruelly. He was a grizzled man of middle age, and his lank, greasy hair clung to his face with sweat. "So are you going to stand there, or…?" the bandit tailed off.
"Is this your camp?" demanded Rona.
"It is"
"Is that your journal in there?" she jerked her thumb toward the tent with the table.
"No, actually. It's Ynvir here's." he looked at the man to his right "But yes, I was there the whole time. You caught us" said the bandit, with a nasty grin, revealing his rotten teeth.
Rona sighed. "Well it's pointless trying to arrest you, so…"
"Ahh, there's a good girl"
"…so I'll have to kill you!" the smile faded off the man's face as Rona lunged towards him, axe flying. He ducked out of the way, drawing a long, broadsword from his back. Wasting no time, Rona swung at the closest target, Ynvir. Her axe blade slashed across his neck, tearing through his fur overcoat, and deep into the flesh. He collapsed, dying. Rona spun around, only to see the other two charging at her. The other man had drawn a nasty looking mace. The leader reached Rona first, and received a hefty kick in the gut. He stumbled past Rona, who swung her axe at the other bandit. He parried the blow well with his mace, but staggered slightly. Rona raised her axe to bring it down on his head, but the leader grabbed her from behind. She could feel his foul breath on her neck, as the mace wielder came towards her, slower this time.
"Silly girl" he chuckled. This enraged Rona, and he elbowed the chief viciously in the jaw, ducking as she did so. The plan tactic worked perfectly; the other bandit had swung the mace with such power, he couldn't stop himself or divert its course. It's ugly, flanged head crashed down onto the leaders bent lower back, and he cried out, falling to the ground.
Rona brought herself up to a standing stance, the last standing bandit now had his back to her. He was only half turned around when her axe blade sliced into the back of his skull, killing him instantly. Rona dislodged the head and approached the chief, who was the only one left alive. He had managed to flip himself onto his back. He put his handed up to defend himself. "Mercy!" he croaked pathetically. Rona raised her axe, and brought it down swiftly, onto his throat. He didn't even have time to flinch. The axe almost severed his head, sending a spray of blood over Rona's legs.
She cleaned the axe's blade on his cloth trousers, and pulled his key from his belt. Rona made her way to the chest in the middle of the camp. Unlocking it, she opened the lid. Apart from the items the bandit had placed inside moments before, there were several expensive looking necklaces, a few more rings, a couple of gemstones, including a rather nice ruby. She placed these things into her pack, and closed the lid. The owners of these items were surly dead, killed by the bandits. If this was the case, the Rangers were allowed to keep anything scum like these had hoarded. Otherwise, they would be returned to the owner.
Rona start d to head east, towards home. She was tired already, and was not even noon.
xXx
Kjeld felt even worse now, but he couldn't just stop. He had to press on. There was only one more steep incline, then he'd be in the clearing where that blasted hunter dwelled.
He reached the top of the hill, and shook some water from his armour. The small cottage sat there, about a hundred metres from Kjeld. He started towards it, with a sigh. "I always get the fun jobs..." he muttered. Then he stopped in his tracks. The front door was ajar, and the window was cracked.
Something was very wrong….
Thanks for reading! Sorry about the wait, I was busy with some things. Future chapters should be uploaded quicker.