The Magician's Shout
Torbal slammed the dragon bones on Belethor's counter.
Belethor shuddered at the sight of the giant bones, but more so at the large Nord Dragonborn in front of him.
"Why should I buy these? Do they have any usefulness? Will anyone actually buy them?" Belethor muttered quietly.
Torbal stared at him angrily. He never liked the Breton, always annoyed by his constant need to bargain for every last septim.
"They're Dragon Bones. Rare. And seeing how they're from the first dragon we've seen for thousands of years, I think they're worth something." Torbal stated intimidatingly.
Belethor still wasn't quite sure, and wanted a way of the deal, but decided telling Torbal "No" wasn't a good idea.
"Fine. I'll take them off your hands for 200 septims each. Final offer." Belethor said as he bluffed confidence.
Torbal looked the Breton in the eyes sternly.
"You're giving me 350 septims each, and then I'm walking out of here. Now, before I get annoyed." The tall Nord said harshly as he placed his axe on the counter with a soft, yet intimidating clang.
Getting the message, Belethor quickly took the bones and handed him the money. Torbal took the money and grinned, as he walked out of the petty shop. A young girl in steel armor had been leaning by the door and watched the whole exchange. She followed Torbal out the door and walked at his side.
"Ya know, that kind of strong-arming won't gain you any favors with the local shopkeepers." The girl said.
"Go away, Lydia. I told you to stop following me around." Torbal barked.
"Well I'm sorry, My Thane, but it's my job. The Jarl appointed me to protect you." Lydia replied with a snarky tone.
"I can "protect" myself." Torbal mocked.
"Well it's a good thing I'm also here to keep an eye on you. Cause the Jarl doesn't want his Thane getting thrown in jail either. It's one thing that you refuse to let me leave the city with you, it's another to try and keep me from doing my job within these walls!" Lydia said grabbing the arrogant Nord by his armor.
Torbal shoved her arm away and kept walking. He'd known Lydia since they were children, as they both grew up in the small town of Riverwood. Lydia had always been headstrong, and was one of the few people left still brave enough to challenge Torbal, and he respected that. Even when it drove him insane.
Lydia had seen the change in Torbal. He wasn't the same jerk she grew up with. Still, she knew more about Torbal "the person" (as opposed to the "Dragonborn") better than anyone else in Whiterun, so Jarl Balgruuf thought she would be good choice to be his Housecarl. It was not uncommon for Lydia to curse Balgruuf's name for doing so.
Torbal went about his errands. He stopped by Jorrvaskr and left his weapons and armor with one of the new recruits. He ordered him to get it properly cleaned, repaired, and to deliver them to Breezehome when it was done.
Afterwards Lydia followed him into The Bannered Mare and scoffed in disgust as she watched him sit down grab a waitresses' behind and down a flagon of mead. Lydia shook her head and sighed.
"This is gonna be a long night," Lydia thought.
-ooo-
Lydia gave the guard forty septims and carried a very drunk Dovahkiin back to Breezehome.
Torbal was too drunk to stand, but apparently sober enough to punch Mikael in the face. Lydia admitted, it was honestly kinda funny to watch the self-proclaimed "womanizer" hit the floor, but still she shook her head at the whole ordeal.
She brought the drunk Nord upstairs and threw him on his bed to pass out, and scoffed at the thought that this drunk was mankind's greatest weapon against the dragons.
"I'm sure those dragons would LOVE to get their fangs in you right now." She thought.
She grew solemn as she began to remember a young Torbal complaining about this very behavior in his own father. The only difference between them now was that Torbal hit moronic bards, whereas his father had hit him.
But there was no use fretting more about it now, and she was tired from chasing his ass all around town today. So Lydia quietly walked into her room and lied down. Sleep quickly took her, as she said a prayer to Talos that a piece of the boy she grew up with would show himself again someday.
-ooo-
Tiren opened his eyes and awoke to a beautiful morning. The Sun was bright and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Tiren sat up in his bedroll and took a moment to admire the beauty in the nature around him.
For the first time since his father's death, Tiren had slept soundly. He woke up feeling so refreshed and rested. It felt great to escape his dragon nightmares, if only for one night.
Tiren reached into his pack and pulled out a delicious red apple. As he bit into the juicy fruit, he looked over and noticed that Rona wasn't in her bedroll. Surprised, Tiren looked around and couldn't see her anywhere, but instead found a note pinned to her tent. A bit concerned, Tiren hurried over and read the note.
"Good morning, get enough beauty sleep? I tried waking you up at sunrise, but you were out like a rock. Decided to go for my morning hunt without you. I'll be back soon, hopefully with fresh game – Rona"
With this Tiren relaxed and bit into his apple again.
Tiren was so happy he met Rona. He'd never met anyone like her. She was so joyful, carefree, and confident. He'd never connected with anyone so quickly, and he felt as though she could really understand just how hard losing his Father was.
Probably better than anyone else.
Not to mention, she provided a way out of these woods. Tiren felt butterflies in his stomach as he imagined Falkreath. He knew it was a smaller town, but he was still excited to be around all the different people!
Tiren thanked Akatosh for everything he'd done for him, and smiled as he took the last bite of his apple. As Tiren waited for Rona to return, he took the opportunity to review the tomes he'd been learning. Over the several days since leaving the homestead, Tiren had been diligently studying the three new spells he'd recovered.
The first two he'd been able to grasp rather quickly.
The armor spell, Oakflesh, was Tiren's easiest spell to grasp. The spell was done taking raw magicka and form fitting it to cover his body, which is actually easier than it sounds. Maintaining the spell was harder than casting it, but still was a challenge he'd traversed rather easily, which was especially important due to his lack of any true armor.
The second spell was a bit more elusive, mostly because Tiren lacked any way of testing it out. The Illusion spell, Fury, in theory was supposed to cause the target to become enraged and mindlessly attack anyone, ally or adversary, that was in sight. This obviously could be invaluable, and Tiren had a firm understanding of how the spell was cast, but his progress with the illusion was far from battle-tested. He'd simply have to pray the spell would work correctly should he ever need it.
And then of course the most frustrating of the three, the simple Flame spell. He'd devoted the most time and energy to learning it, only to grow more frustrated. So many important details in the tome were unreadable, and Tiren lacked the experience in destruction magic to fill in the blanks. As he had done the night before, Tiren could cast the spell. But it was incredibly draining to magicka, as he wasted so much energy not knowing how to concentrate it.
All in all though, Tiren was proud of himself. He'd learned those spells all on his own, with no instructor or teacher other than the book in his hands, in only three days! And that was something he held his head high knowing.
Tiren, still a bit hungry, walked over to his pack for a piece of dried meat. As he reached in, his ears twitched as he thought he heard something.
He waited a moment, but then decided it was nothing and continued searching for food. As he found his meat, he took a bite, and decided to get a head start on packing up camp. As he gathered his things a put them in his weightless pack, he began getting anxious as he thought about getting on the trail again. He slung his pack over his shoulder, tied his sword to his belt, and strapped his arrows, bow, and Stormfire to his back. He was glad his father had made his pack weightless, otherwise all this gear would be overwhelming.
But then Tiren's ears twitched. He definitely heard something. A terrible fear rose in his gut.
He heard Rona scream.
-ooo-
Rona chuckled to herself as she carried the small deer on her shoulders back towards camp.
"I liked it better when Tiren carried the deer," Rona thought.
Still, she didn't complain. It had been a swift and relatively easy kill, and it put a nice cap on a productive morning.
And it had been an even better night.
Rona couldn't stop thinking about Tiren. She had never met so genuinely kind out here in the wild. Everyone else she met was a hunter with their own ego, or a bandit that wanted her left dead on the roadside. Tiren was the farthest thing away from both of those things. She smiled as she continued her long walk and thought more about her new friend.
She began to wonder what she would do after she brought Tiren to Falkreath. Did they really have to part ways? She'd lived in these woods all her life, but she had nothing tying her there. Could she go with him?
Rona shook her head at the thought though. He was a nice friend, but she wasn't about to follow him all the way to Winterhold. Still, she couldn't help but admit that she was tempted to travel with him for a while longer…
But then her peaceful thoughts were halted.
An arrow pierced Rona's thigh, and she fell to the ground with a loud scream of pain and surprise. She gathered herself quickly though, and she threw the deer on the ground, ripped the arrow out, and knocked it in her own bow.
She looked around for her aggressors, and then quickly spotted a bandit wielding a broadsword charging. With a quick release her arrow soared through the air, and planted itself in the bandit's eye.
One down.
Rona spotted another attacker changing, this time an Orc armed with a mace and shield. Rona quickly fired another strike. The dart flew high at his face, but he lifted his shield high to guard himself. He left his knees open though, and a second arrow quickly impaled his knee before he could react. He screamed in pain and tumbled forward, and Rona quickly shifted her focus to other attackers.
Rona began to feel dizzy though. She blinked and tried to regain focus, as she knocked another arrow and aimed at a third attacker. But her arrow sailed wide as the Khajit bandit quickly closed the gap between them. Something was wrong.
Rona never missed.
Suddenly it became harder to move. Her arms and legs wouldn't respond, and her muscles went numb.
"Shit!" Rona swore.
That arrow had been poisoned.
The Khajit grabbed her and threw her to the ground. Unable to fight back, she could hardly struggle as he tied her wrists and legs behind her back. Before he could gag her, she let out a piercing scream, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she prayed to Mother Mara that someone had heard her.
The remaining group of bandits circled around the helpless girl and began cracking jokes and gawking at her. A tall Nord holding a bow and an empty vial stepped out of the group towards her and stroked her face. Rona felt disgusted, but could only close her eyes in response.
"You were right Deetum-Ja, that paralysis poison of yours does work!" The tall Nord said as he examined the young girl.
The injured Orc limped over to the group, and shoved his comrades out of the way.
"I WANNA KILL HER! THIS LITTLE BITCH TORE UP MY KNEE!" The Orc shouted as he drew his mace and tried to bludgeon the helpless hunter.
But the Nord grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He kneeled down to examine the girl again.
"In due time Agronak. But let's not let her off so easy. I think she might be exactly what the boss needs to calm him down…" the Nord said with a wicked smile. "Take her back to Pinewatch! We should let Strong-Arm have a piece of her first,"
Tiren shuddered as he heard that. He got there just in time to watch a large Khajit knock Rona unconscious and sling her over his shoulder. Tiren drew his Bow and knocked an arrow, ready to fire, but then stopped. He couldn't fight them here. Not only was he outnumbered, but they could easily just kill Rona or use her as a hostage.
Tiren swore, but decided follow them from a distance. He'd save her; he swore to the divines he'd save her. All he needed was the right opportunity.
He just prayed that when that opportunity came, his strength would be enough to seize it.
Another Chapter down! A few quick notes:
Torbal's a jerk, and Lydia deserves a seat in Balgruuf's court for putting up with him. Btw, am I the only one who couldn't stand Belethor?
The next chapter will be a bit darker, so be warned. BTW, for those that are super worried about canon, I'm changing the sex of Rigel Strong-Arm from the game in the next chapter. If you know who that is? Great! If not? Don't worry about it!
Poor Orc, maybe he can get a job as a town guard ;)
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