The Magician's Shout

Blood dripped from Torbal's war axe. This was his third dragon he'd fought since the attack at the western watchtower, and he had to admit, this was getting rather fun.

The dark, emerald green blood dragon swooped around for another pass and let loose another stream of flames, which Torbal easily blocked with his shield. Torbal thanked his foresight that he had thought to get it enchanted. A little intimidation and Farengar had been happy to layer a strong fire resistance on the hard steel.

Torbal wore Nordic steel armor, with a skyforge steel war axe that was truly befitting the Companion's Harbringer. Coupled with that was his shield of enchanted, fine steel with a large metal spike jutting out of its center. He stood on the edge of a mountains peak, and had been locked in combat with this dragon for longer than he'd liked.

Finally the dragon pulled up and hovered above the Nord warrior, preparing a stream of flames, but Torbal struck first.

With a loud shout, Torbal's Thu'um rang clear and powerful, and wave of massive blue energy burst from Torbal's throat as his shout boomed.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The massive wave of energy from Torbal's Thu'um crashed into the dragon and immediately staggered it. It struggled to keep altitude, as the raw energy disrupted its flapping pattern.

Torbal took a few steps back, tied his shield to the harness on his back, and as the dragon became level with the edge of the peak, Torbal leaped off of the mountain and latched onto the dragon's neck.

The emerald blood dragon screamed in defiance as Torbal began climbing towards his head and hacking away at its neck. The dragon began contorting as it flew at breakneck speeds in an attempt to shake its attacker, but Torbal was relentless. Torbal hung on for dear life as he finally reached the beast's head, and began delivering devastating blows to the angry dragon.

Finally the dragon simply was in too much pain to continue flight and began to lose control. Torbal and the beast nosedived towards the hard ground with frightening pace, but as they hit the ground the dragon absorbed the harsh impact.

Still not quite dead, Torbal knew he had to finish the beast off. He took hold of his shield off his back, and slammed the shield down hard into the already fractured dragon skull.

With a final scream of anger and dismay, the dragon felt the shield spike impale him. The beast tried to resist, but death soon took him. And almost immediately the beast began to wither away as Torbal felt the dragon's soul swirl into his consciousness. The dragon's knowledge became his, and as it happened he began to understand a word he'd discovered in a ruin earlier that day. The markings he discovered now clearing read the word "Yol" in his mind, which he now knew was "Fire" in dragon's tongue.

And in a symbol of victory, Torbal shouted his new Thu'um into the sky and flames erupted as his shout boomed.

"YOL!"

As a stream of fire erupted from his throat, Torbal felt utterly invincible. He ended his Thu'um with grin. He'd never felt so alive.

It's great to be the Dragonborn.

-ooo-

A drop of sweat dripped down Tiren's face as he knocked his arrow. Taking careful aim at the buck fifty yards in front of him, Tiren was determined to not blow this opportunity.

Wood Elves had a natural talent for archery, and Tiren was no exception. And while his passion lied in his spells, he'd always been very capable with a bow. Growing up on the Homestead, if ever a day came where the snares yielded no game, Tiren would often rely on his bow to find his dinner. And that is what he was doing today.

It'd been two days since Tiren left the Homestead in search of Falkreath, and Tiren had learned a lot about himself during that time. First and foremost? He had to be Tamriel's worst navigator.

The idea was simple. The homestead was North of Falkreath, so head south. And while yes, Tiren lacked a compass or map, he knew which direction his home faced, and decided that if he simply went straight south he would eventually find a road or path that would lead to the Hold's capital.

Sadly, Tiren didn't quite realize just how far his home was from civilization, and there were no roads, signs, or paths to speak of. And all it took was one pack of wolves to catch him off guard, and after the fight Tiren had totally lost his sense of direction.

So instead Tiren wandered, hoping that he would eventually come across something that would get him out of these accursed woods. But until that happened, he needed to survive. And he was determined to keep his food supply well stocked.

So as he took exact aim at the creature's broadside, Tiren let his arrow loose. The arrow whizzed through the air and quickly placed itself in the deer's heart. And Tiren smiled, thanking Kynareth for the creature's sacrifice.

As he stood up and came out from behind the bush he'd fired from, he jumped at the sound of a loud yell.

"HEY! You poached my kill you little sneak!"

Tiren looked over to see a young Redguard girl standing on a tall rock looking down at him. She stood there with a bow in hand and an annoyed expression on her face.

She quickly jumped down and walked over to Tiren.

"I've stalking that elusive buck for two hours waiting for it to sit still long enough for me to line up a shot, and when he does you come out of nowhere and sweep him out from under my nose!" The young Redguard accused.

Tiren examined the girl. She was definitely a full-blooded Redguard, with dark brown skin and, not bulky, but well-defined muscle.

She wore her hair in a high ponytail, and wore light armor. She was dressed in a sleeveless shirt of thick, dark fur; and she wore pants of the same material. Around her waist was a free-flowing skirt made of various pelts, and she wore thick boots. In her hand was a hunting bow, on her back was a quiver of steel arrows, and dark leather bracers protected her wrists.

She couldn't have been much older than Tiren, if not younger, and had an attitude that seemed to project that of both a hardened survivalist and an innocent girl. Tiren realized this might've been the first girl his age he'd ever seen, the only other women he'd encountered being old colleagues of his father coming to visit. But he'd never seen a girl like this, and he was honestly a bit stunned by the sight of her.

"So, uh, how are we resolving this!?" The girl said with her arms crossed and a displeased look on her face.

Tiren snapped back into reality with that and collected himself. He didn't want to give up the deer, but he supposed he had food for the night. And he felt oddly intimated by the dark-skinned girl.

"Well. It seems like you put in the work for it, it's only right you should reap the rewards. I only ask in exchange that you spare me an arrow? I only have a few and can't afford to waste one." Tiren said softly.

With this, the girl's expression loosened. She hadn't expected that. Most of these disputes she had with other hunters ended in threats and accusations. There was something different about this one.

She examined him in return, and decided that he was likely harmless. She turned away for just a moment and smiled to herself. Something about him pleased her. She turned back to face him.

"I'll make you a deal. My camp is just over that ridge. I'll give you that arrow and half of the meat if you carry it there for me," The Redguard said with a slight smile.

Tiren wasn't sure about the fairness of the deal, but he gladly accepted it if for no reason other than he appreciated the company. Not to mention, this girl might know the way to Falkreath!

Tiren smiled and stuck out his hand.

"Deal. My name's Tiren by the way."

The Redguard returned the expression with a smile herself.

"My name's Rona. It's nice to meet you Tiren."

-ooo-

Tiren found his situation rather funny, as he realized he might be a bit easily manipulated when it came to women.

He carried the deer that HE killed a solid half-mile, and then he was given the job of carving, butchering, and skinning the animal. Rona in return did offer to go out and collect firewood, but Tiren couldn't help but think that he was getting the short end of the stick.

And oddly enough, he didn't even care. He enjoyed Rona's company. She was very strong-willed and kind, and had this personable nature about her that made it feel like he'd known her for years.

During the walk over the talk wasn't too personal, simple jokes and small talk. But Tiren felt so relieved to talk to someone. Not since the dragon attack had he interacted with anyone at all, and the human interaction felt very refreshing.

Rona returned to the campsite just as Tiren finished his work. It had been messy work, and the blood on his hands reflected that. As he wiped his hands he couldn't help but admire Rona. He watched her place the wood into the makeshift fire pit, and as she was about to begin to start the process of trying to light it, Tiren jumped up excitedly.

"Wait! I can handle that." Tiren said with confidence.

Rona raised an eyebrow at this, but decided to humor him and took a step away.

Tiren held out his hand and focused. He knew so little about the spell, especially the intricacies of how to direct his magic efficiently, but he wanted to take this opportunity to impress her. And as a small flame appeared in his hand, Tiren extended his arm and shot a small burst of flames at the wood. They immediately caught flame, and Tiren smiled at his accomplishment.

Rona chuckled at the proud half-elf and gave him a round of applause.

"Impressive! With the hood I should've figured you for a mage." Rona congratulated.

Tiren felt his face grow hot, and felt a bit embarrassed all the sudden.

"Well, yes I am. Or at least I'm aspiring to be. I studied magic under my Father, who was a College mage at one time." Tiren explained.

Rona was intrigued, but also hungry. She pulled a cooking pot out from her tent, and began rummaging through her pack for ingredients.

"Well, magic boy, I'll cook. I can make a great venison stew." Rona said confidently.

Upon hearing that, Tiren's stomach grumbled in agreement.

Over the net hour as the food was prepared they continued to get to know each other.

"So Rona, how old are you?" Tiren asked.

"I turned seventeen last month. And yourself?" She responded.

"I turn eighteen next month actually. Funny, I thought we were the same age." Tiren said smiling.

Rona nodded and continued to stir her stew. Tiren couldn't help but notice how her skin glistened from the light of the campfire. He stared for a moment, admiring her. He noticed that across the right side of her neck was scar, and it ran from her neck down to the side of her chest. It was a wicked wound, and he could tell there was more to it than he could see. Tiren moved on from that though and continued to examine her, but then caught himself and snapped back to reality.

"So what is a young girl doing living out in these woods all alone?" Tiren asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Rona chuckled. She got this question often, by basically every hunter or traveler she came across.

"I was raised out here. My mother was a hunter, and I grew up learning the skills to survive out in the wild. Honestly, I'd be more comfortable sleeping in a tent than an inn any day. In the cities there are petty squabbles and crime. Out here, it's just me and Kynareth." Rona said with a confident smile. She took a sigh and continued, "It's not too bad either. I live off the land and these parts of the woods are pretty safe. Occasionally I hafta take care of a pack of wolves or stray bandit, but my life is great. And in this way, I'm carrying on my Mother's legacy."

Tiren was taken a back a bit by her last comment, but he nodded in understanding. He knew all to well what she meant.

"When did you lose her?" Tiren asked.

"About two years ago. While we were stalking a new hunting ground we came across a standing stone. When we got closer to examine it, we were attacked by a Hagraven who was there trying to perform some awful ritual. She died trying to defend me."

Tiren was shocked. He'd read stories of Hagravens. They were evil creatures, a cross between a witch and a harpy. He'd heard tales of them wiping out fully armed squads with their magic and claws.

"How did you survive!? Did you flee?" Tiren exclaimed.

Rona shook her head.

"No I killed it. I got lucky, as the witch underestimated me. People have a tendency to do that. I still have the scar to show for it though." Rona explained.

Rona pulled her shirt down a bit to reveal the Hag's scar, but Tiren couldn't help but ignore the scar and notice that a part of her breast was exposed. His face grew hot and he got excited. Quickly though, she covered herself again and Tiren calmed himself down. Still, he chose not to pursue the subject further, as he could tell she didn't want to talk about that day any longer. And that was something he definitely understood.

After a moment of silence Rona spoke.

"So you haven't explained what your doing out here yourself. You don't seem like a trapper or hunter. What's your story?" Rona asked.

Tiren hesitated. He decided it was best to keep what happened with the dragon a secret, and so he formulated a lie quickly.

"I was raised in a small manor not far from here. I lived on our homestead alone with my Father." Tiren explained. Here came the lie. "A few days ago a fire burnt down our home, and killed my father with it. I was out hunting at the time. When I returned my home was on fire, the livestock had fled, and my father was trapped inside. Later that night rain put out the fire and I checked inside. My father was dead. So I buried him, recovered what supplies I could, and left my home for the first time ever. Since then I've been on my own, the only person I ever really knew is gone..."

Rona immediately sympathized. She had felt that same way the day he mother died. That day she didn't just lose her mom, but her best friend. She began to break down, as sympathy seeped in and buried feelings rose to the forefront.

She finally couldn't take it. She stood up, ran over, and hugged him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered the feeling of the day she lost her parent and was left all alone too.

Tiren, not knowing how to react, simply enjoyed the moment. He felt a rush of excitement and welcomed warmth, though still startled by the gesture.

A moment passed, and Rona stepped back, embarrassed. Gathering herself, she spoke.

"So... What's your plan? What are you going to do?" Rona asked.

Tiren too needed a moment to gather himself from the embarrassment, but after she spoke he straightened up. He was confident in his plan.

"I'm going to attend the College of Winterhold. My plan is to go to Falkreath and find a few jobs so that I can hire a carriage to take me there. It's what my father would've wanted. Only problem is… I'm actually a bit lost. I don't know how to get to Falkreath. I've been wandering in these woods for days." Tiren explained, his confidence supplanted by a bit of shame at the final remark.

Rona smiled.

"Well Tiren it's your lucky day! I happen to know how to get to Falkreath, and was planning to head into town to sell my pelts tomorrow anyway. I'd be happy to guide you." Rona offered with an air of satisfaction. She stood up an extended her hand.

Tiren practically jumped at the offer.

"I'd love that! Thank you so much Rona!" Tiren exclaimed as he took her hand and shook it excitedly.

She chuckled at his overzealousness, and Tiren sat back down with his face red again. There was a quiet pause, and then Rona softly broke the silence.

"I'm glad you killed my deer today Tiren." Rona said with a warm smile.

Tiren chuckled to himself. He thanked Stendarr for taking mercy on him and Kynareth for putting that buck in his path. He had never felt this way before.

For the first time ever, he had a friend.

Her looked at Rona and returned her smile with one of his own.

"I'm glad I did too."

*Phew* That was a long one. I'm sorry that this one ran so long, but it all didn't quite fit in two chapters.

Writing Torbal is actually pretty fun. The gritty, power-hungry Nord is a fun character. And we've all played through the game like that one time or another.

I hope the relationship being built between Rona and Tiren feels natural, and I hope the awkwardness that they both have on occasion accurately reflects how we all were around the opposite sex at one time or another.

Hope you enjoyed it! Follow, Favorite, and Review!