Thanks to everyone who's viewed so far, and to Envy's Love for being my first reviewer :3 I decided to have them leave the baby at Honorhall for the time being, as it didn't seem very practical to me to have a toddler along on dangerous missions. Fear not, he'll be back in the future. And don't worry, there will be action coming up. I promise!
"Hard to think that I found you almost a year ago, huh?" Baragma smiled at me over a heavy plate of undercooked deer meat. I stuffed another bite of my own (slightly less bloody) steak in my mouth and nodded quickly, not able to speak over the mouthful. In the time since we met, not much had happened but yet it felt like so much had happened. We left my son at an orphanage in Riften with a kindly lady by the name of Grelod, fearing for little Hakrim's safety too much to bring him along with us at such a young age. I felt like a terrible mother for doing such a thing to him for my own convenience but Baragma assured me it was for the best that he not be involved in dragon slaying and ruin exploring quite yet. I would make it up to him later on, when he was a bit bigger. We still visited him quite often, though, and I was overjoyed to know that he didn't forget who I was during the times we were apart.
After he'd scarfed down his meal and I'd neatly picked away at my own, we began disassembling the campsite we'd been staying in for the night and piled the rolled up bedrolls on the broad backs of Baragma's big bay stallion and my own, a dull black horse that I'd taken to calling Starling for no reason at all other than the starling being my favorite bird. He'd first caught my eye at the Markarth stables, and after putting down a small down payment on him I managed to beg, borrow and steal just enough to purchase him. Both Baragma and the stable owner didn't understand why I liked him so much, seeing as he had a nasty temperament most of the time and wasn't even much to look at with his big, broad head, fat belly and almost nonexistent mane and tail. I had just shrugged at them and said he had a good aura about him before receiving a nice little flesh wound as I tried to lead him away.
"Where are we headed next?" I asked, grunting as I tried and failed to mount the grumpy stallion. My leg strength still had a bit to be desired, apparently. My travelling partner snorted and adjusted his seat on his own horse, "Whiterun. I hear there's a group of mercenaries known as the Companions there looking for new members. I'd like to see what they're all about; it could be fun," I subconsciously made a face, and apparently he'd noticed. "What? I didn't say you had to join. Nah, I'm more of a one man team anyway. You likely aren't good enough to get in anyway,"
"Those are fighting words, Baragma," I gave him a wolfish grin; "Tell you what. We'll both try out and when I get in you have to buy me a whole bottle of Black-Briar," He raised an eyebrow, appeared to think for a moment and then nodded.
"Oh, and we're racing there!" I added quickly, pulling Starling's head sharply around and kicking the horse into a gallop, leaving the other horse and rider pair in the dust both literally and figuratively.
I heard the man behind me yell something that sounded like an accusation of cheating, but the thundering of hooves drowned out most of what he said. We both knew that his big, bulky stallion was no match for my own horse. Especially with his lard ass and all the heavy steel armor he wore piled on the poor beast's back.
The entire way there I kept Starling spurred into a dead run, to which he seemed to greatly enjoy. The animal always did enjoy a good, hard gallop. Sweat lathered on the sides of his neck and spit flew from his mouth, covering mine and his own legs in a sticky mixture of sweat and saliva. "Good boy! What a champion!" I bellowed as I saw the mighty and famous tower of Dragonsreach and the walls of the town surrounding it peek into view over a small hill, giving him a firm pat on the withers with one hand and leaning lower over his neck.
The wind stung my eyes and whistled past my sensitive ears and through my long, white hair beautifully. I thought back to the first time I'd seen a horse, that mellow bay stud that I'd thought was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen that first day I left (or was kidnapped, rather) from Blackreach. I'd thought Baragma's facial tuft, a beard, as they were called, was so odd and the idea of a bath was almost too much for my brain to comprehend. I smiled to myself, amused at how naïve I was just a year ago. He never had quite explained to me why he was so adamant about staying covered around each other, though. It appeared that everyone up top was this way, but I couldn't help but feel a bit spurned when he went to great lengths not to see my naked skin or vice versa.
I could hear Starling's breath becoming more labored, his stamina quickly dwindling. With another few pats on the neck, I leaned back in my saddle and gave a gentle tug on the reins. "Ease up," I said, and almost immediately the horse slowed to a leisurely canter. I kept on like this for a few moments before slowing him again to a trot. Not long after acquiring Starling, Baragma had taught me the importance of cooling a horse down before putting them away and the consequences if this wasn't done correctly. I dearly loved my asshole of a pet, and therefore didn't mind whatsoever putting in the little extra work to keep him happy and healthy. Enjoyed it, even.
Heavy, slow hoofbeats behind me told me that Baragma had long given up on our race and I wasn't surprised in the least. "You owe me some mead!" I called out, hoping he'd hear.
We were nearing the Whiterun stables now, and I tugged my horse to a stop in order to dismount and walk him the rest of the way to let him rest up a bit from carrying me. He grunted and sighed deeply, licking his lips happily as I led him forward and to the waiting stablehand, a Nord man with a beard not entirely unlike Baragma's.
The aforementioned man sat upon his own horse, but kept pace with Starling and I until he dropped down and onto the ground, handing the bay's reins to the stablehand along with a small amount of septims. "Thanks, son. Hey, you. I'll be in town if you need me. Just ask around if you can't find me. I know you'll be out here for ages tending to that damned beast." I smirked, "Not trying to think up any more names for me, eh?"
The odd thing was, I still had not settled on a single name for myself in all the time I'd been on the surface. Usually I stuck with one name per town, but it was getting pretty tiresome trying to remember them all. I'd have to choose a single name for myself to use, and soon, before I entirely lost my mind.
Baragma headed inside the gate, and I could hear the guards gasp a little and let him in eagerly; they whispered to themselves after he was gone, wondering "what could the Dragonborn possibly be doing in our town?". I snickered to myself, not understanding why people treated him with such reverence when in reality he was just a dull-minded farm boy with a very good sword arm and a poor vocabulary. Destinies and whatnot aside, that is.
After brushing out Starling's coat and getting him a heaping pile of hay (much to the stablehand's confusion), I headed inside myself. I wondered if the guards whispered about 'that odd, pale elf with hair down to her waist."