Skyrim Audio-Adventure
Chapter 6
"Making a deadman rich"
A long time ago, a child would spend his days sitting on the roofs and decks by the docks, breathing in the fresh air far away from the pungent sewers, watching boats drifting across the massive lake like clouds. He watched the deckhands work up a sweat then dive into the lake to as soon as they got a break. Many of them cut through the water with the ease of the fish they hunted. Some even seemed to be able to breath underwater. They made it look simple, they made it look easy. So easy that one fine day the child desired to try for himself.
The shingles were rough but his callused feet protected him as he scrambled down the roof and leaped onto the docks. He dodged between barrels and crates trying to stay out of the workers' way. The docks were always busy smelling of fish oil and sweat. A waif wouldn't be welcome in this place of toil, so he passed as quietly as he could. He made for the broken peer, the one no one would be using.
When he finally arrived it was a grand view, the shimmering surface of the lake set aflame by the afternoon sun. He'd waited till then because as he understood it that would be when the water would be the warmest. He took off the rags he called cloths and hid them carefully under a mossy abandoned net, they weren't much but they were all he had. He curled his toes over the edge of the wooden planks. The winds blew bold brazened energy right into his tiny bones, and he leapt.
The fall was a little farther than he'd expected, the water was wetter and colder than he'd expected. He struck out with his arms and legs, like a cork he bobbed to the surface. He gasped from the cold and started to move like he'd seen the sailers move. Slowly but surely he started to go forward. His head dipped unexpectedly under the water, but it was easy enough to push a little harder and get back to the air. He felt something primal in him remind him to not be separated from the air.
The ripples he made in the water lapped against his small chin as he moved along. Again his head was unexpectedly submerged and he had to correct it; but something was wrong. The air here just above the surface was thin, it wasn't giving him any energy. His muscles were tiring at an alarming rate. Was he doing this right? He wasn't sure. He kicked harder trying run through water to push himself up but suddenly it wasn't doing any good. He was sinking. One last desperate mouthful of air and his world turned eery and silent. His eyes afraid to close filled with murky gloom, the sun wobbled weirdly above him and in one last ditch effort he lunged for it trying to grab it. Cold kissed his finger tips as his hand broke the surface but that was all. His last breath was spent. His lungs burning, his limbs so wrung he couldn't feel them. The bubbles escaped his lips and his world grew dark. Falling slowly into the abyss.
As he fell his last thoughts were that it had seemed so simple, it had seemed so easy. Now his world was dim shapes and crushing pain in his chest and head. The monsters were coming for him now he saw them racing at him out of the mire. A scaly arm wrapped itself firmly about his chest and began pulling him to the surface.
That was all the hunter could think of as Aela danced around him preparing her next strike. How did she make it look so easy. It was just like back then, everything he tried was failing. Everything that he was sure would solve this problem only made things worse. Again he was slipping into the dim; he was falling. Then Aela let go of his neck and the ground rushed up to him. He barely got his hands out in time to break his fall, the wooden sword clattered down next to him.
"And thats how you'd do it if you wanted them to live," Aela lectured to the children as the hunter's head cleared, "if you know how to choke them and when to let go you can knock anyone out without hitting them."
The hunter almost laughed at this last part. She had hit him, she'd hit him more times then he could count. His elbows, shins and gut would all have nice bruises in the morning, if they didn't already. He was pretty sure she'd caught him in the privates at one point but everything hurt so much he couldn't tell. At first he'd thought he'd been doing alright. He'd been parrying most of her blows; well... parrying in a sense. When she went for his head he parried with his shoulder, when she went for his ribs he parried with his elbow. Soon enough his arms had become slow and Aela's speed seemingly doubled. She jabbed, and slapped and whacked him to her hearts content, which was apparently quite a lot.
He glanced at the wooden sword laying to his right and at his incomplete hand. He wished for a moment that he knew how to quit, then shakily picked up the toy sword and stood to face Aela again.
Aela continued her lesson. "However sometimes even when you show mercy, a lowly bandit will still raise his blade against you. So then what should you do?"
"Finish them!" the kids cheered.
"Well if you insist," Aela flipped the small wooden sword in her hand and turned back to the hunter. The hunter placed his sword in his left hand, it had worked for archery why wouldn't it work for this? He squared off with the huntress a readied to himself to engage.
To his credit he blocked her first two strikes. Not as in "he let them hit somewhere else" these were wood to wood, legitimate blocks. They were clumsy and flailing but hey he'd take it. Unfortunately his movements were so exaggerated, and he was so focused on controlling his off hand, that happened next was almost inevitable. After his second block Aela flicked the sword and slapped his wrist opening him up for an off hand strike. She switched stance, practically stepping through him, driving her fist into his solar plexus so hard he was knocked strait on his ass.
He sat there for a moment and tried to breath, when his lungs didn't seem to want to he keeled over and rolled onto his side, curling and trying to find air. Aela turned back to the kids and the hunter saw stars... and boots strangely enough. As he was just managing to get some small breaths in he looked up to see Bracknel crouching over him.
"As much as I'm enjoying the spectacle of an honor-bound warrior beating up a hobo," he grinned a crooked grin, "I think it's time you and I got serious about this."
The hunter pulled himself to a sitting position and shot the old nord a quizzical look. "What could you possibly be talking about."
"I know this isn't how you fight. All these blocks and stances. This is how the companions fight, and what you want to learn."
"I thought this was supposed to be a test."
"It is a test, but you didn't survive a vampire attack fighting like this, it's time to fight your fight."
The hunter felt he understood. "My fight..." he echoed
"Yeah," Bracknel clapped him on the shoulder making him wince. "Besides you've drawn something of a crowd, you don't want to be embarrassed in front of all these louts do you?" The hunter glanced around and sure enough the market square was ringed but a modest group of onlookers. "Especially that guy." Bracknel said pointing. The hunter followed his gaze to a heavily armored nord in with streaks in his beard and glowering eyes. "That guy bet me that you wouldn't even be able to land one shot on the wolf of Whiterun, and I took him up on that."
The hunter's ribs hurt too much to laugh, "That's a really dumb thing to bet your money on."
"Well technically I didn't bet MY money." the hunter shot him a glare. "Relax I didn't bet your money either. I bet that dead messengers money. So come on, get out there and make a dead man rich, why don't ya."
The hunter look up and sighed, "I suppose there are worse reasons. Help me with these furs." To everyones surprise the hunter began to shed clothing. First his gauntlets and top, then even his boots came off and were carried by Bracknel back to their pile of gear on the impromptu sidelines.
The hunter breathed deep and felt the air around him. It was not frigged like high on the mountains and it wasn't mild and humid like in the deep forests. It was brisk and dry. He lean forward and ran his fingers down his feet and between his toes, feeling the calluses and on both. A blister he hadn't noticed till now stung as he let it breath. The cool air felt good on his new bruises and his old scars. His ears picked up some low murmurs from the onlookers. He'd always waved off the nordic notion that he should be proud of his scars and maladies, he'd made mistakes thats why he'd been hurt; but here in front of all these people wearing the hardships of the past week on his flesh for all to see, he finally understood it.
"You realize there are children present," came Aela's chastising tone.
"That doesn't seem to bother you," the hunter replied easily.
The Companion seemed to stiffen in her minimalist armor, but then gave him a wicked grin and stitched her sword to a backhand grip. He stood up slow and raised his arms in a stretch. Finally he bent down and took up the toy sword, they began again.
Aela as usual made the first move. She came in low and swiped up, had the toy been a real dagger the hunter would have been slit from his nuts to his chin. However when the strike arrived the hunter wasn't there, he was moving away on the back foot. This was not unusual in itself but unlike previous engagements the hunter wasn't being forced. He was controlled, balanced and relaxed. He'd disposed of any semblance of a formal fighters stance.
Aela pressed forward with 3 more swipes but they all missed as the hunter stayed out of range. "Fight you coward!" Came a shout from onlookers, but the hunter ignored it. Aela pursued and he continued to evade, she was faster than him but the distance gave him time to react. Until finally he felt what he'd been waiting for. His back foot brushed the wooden post of the large awning outside Bits and Pieces. He spun around it putting it between him and Aela. She scowled and tried to scurt around it but he circled, not willing to give up his protection so easily. They danced side to side a brief moment then Aela surged forward and stabbed at him from around the post.
What followed only took a couple seconds. The hunter spun into the post dodging the strike and catching the arm. He yank the arm over his shoulder and kicked back like a mule at Aela's leg. He felt her foot slip out from under her and a solid thud against the post, a grunt told him it had been her face. She threw an off hand hook at his ribs but he was already spinning away and it was glancing blow. He backed away toward the second post, Aela recovered and bore in on him fast, before he could get to it. However for the first time it seemed all evening, the hunter moved forward. He threw his own feet out from under him and fell onto his side rolling away from her; his arm swung around and wrapped around the back of her knees. Before Aela could react she was falling and the next post was rushing to meet her. She had to throw out both hands to stop herself from going face to post for a second time. As she caught herself the hunter scrabbled backwards to the first post. Aela whipped around on a knee and threw her weapon at him, it clattered off the post he was hiding behind and landed on the ground by the door to bits and pieces. For a brief moment the hunter looked at it with interest but knowing Aela would either beat him to it or pound him when she got there he instead darted away making for the well at the center of the square.
"What do you mean that wasn't a hit?"
"He has to hit her with the sword or it doesn't count."
"Now at what point was that part of the deal?"
"Its a dual isn't it?"
"No it's not its a fight, now pay up!"
The hunter ignored the chatter as he approached the well. A raised stone circle, covered buy an iron grate. A bucket was attached to a rope wrapped tightly around a suspended wooden bar with a hand crank. He furiously started to turn the crank adding as much slack to the rope as he could. Then, shoving his arm into the bucket he turned around just in time to block Aela's next blow with his improvised shield.
The huntress's eyes were fierce, after two more ineffective slashes against the bucket she went low to attack his legs. The hunter leapt up on to the well but Aela was too quick, she adjusted and swiped at his knees causing them to buckle. He took a solid strike across he jaw and tumbled off the well. As he scrambled to his feet and brought the bucket back up the huntress flew at him like an arrow, and knocked him back with a flying double leg kick. The hunter hit the ground and slid several feet from the sheer force of it, and he was emphatically separated form his bucket.
Aela had of course fallen too but she was already back up and coming at him trying to seize the moment he was helpless. The hunter came up to a knee and parried, actually parried. Then he ducked a swing and sprung back to the well. He turned around to see Aela now throughly perturbed stalking after him. She seemed a little slower, but it was probably a deception. Staying focused the hunter grabbed the rope and yanked as hard as he could. Aela's eyes flew open wide in brief realization before the bucket came skidding up from behind and knocked her legs out from under her.
She fell flat on her back and the crowd gasped. She looked up to see the hunter standing atop the well spinning twirling the rope and bucket above his head like a flail. With a spin and a grunt the bucket was sent flying her way. She dodged easily and took hold of the rope, bringing it in with her as she charged the well. The hunter dropped the rope and ducked behind the well as the bucket was returned in kind. It flew over his head and clattered across the stone of the square. Aela came right after it, hurtling the well and stabbing down at him. He skirted around the well and she spun to keep him in her sights. He made to leap back onto the well but she matched him trying to meet him in the middle. She struck, he dodged pressed her arm into the cross bar of he well with his sword hand and punched her square in the nose with his free hand. It was a hit, a solid undeniable hit. He looked at her almost apologetic for a moment. Then she smiled at him, and there was something different in her eyes, had her teeth always been that long?
The wolf of Whiterun ripped away the hand pinning her arm and yanked it rolling and throwing him off the well. He felt her warrior strength as he was sent sprawling onto the ground. She was on him again in an instant, striking harder and faster than before. His ribs, his neck, his knees, his liver, his temple. He wanted to buckle but he couldn't. He wanted to block but that was a losing battle. He wanted to get back to the well but she was in his way. In a last act of desperation the hunter did what she wasn't expecting, and just flung himself at her.
Of course she was ready for it. Of course she threw her hip into him and flipped him over. Of course this had been exactly what he'd hoped for. Anticipating the throw the hunter jumped as he left the ground and landed on his feet. He swiftly made for the well, jumping astride it one last time. He held his arms out as Aela watched smirking. It was an invite to clash and they both knew it. The huntress darted in ready to end it but suddenly the hunter was holding the rope again. He yanked, and Aela's eyes reflexively went to the ground looking for the rope and bucket, but the rope was no where near her legs and it wasn't moving. She looked back up but it was too late, the hunter had leapt off the well and was soaring to her, arms raised for a two hand strike. The rope had been a ploy and now she had no time to dodge, she had not choice but to raise her sword to block his. A crack reverberated off the shops and stalls of the market and half of Aela's sword clattered onto the stone.
For a moment the hunter couldn't believe what he'd done. Then sheer illation filled his chest and the thrill of victory took hold. As Aela stared stoically back at him, he raised his arm and imperiously touched the wooden blade to Aela's cheek.
His wrist almost snapped in three places and in a flash Aela was holding his own sword to his throat. He hadn't seen any of what had just happened, even though he'd been looking right at it. Whatever had happened, his missing finger throbbed terribly. He was on his knees, and wasn't sure when he go there.
"Aela won!" cried someone and the modest crowd broke out in a smattering of applause.
"He touched her face of course it counts!" came Bracknel's shouts. "Hey don't you walk away from me you big bugger!"
A hand appeared before his eyes and he took it in a daze. Aela pulled him to his feet and steadied him. He saw her smile at him threw her bloody nose. What ever strangeness had possessed her before had seemingly drained away at the close of the fight. "the only reason they are cheering for me is because you made it look like a challenge," she said "you should be proud of that. I see how you survived this long."
"My sword! It broke!" Came a cry to their left and they turned to see little Mila holding the end of her toy sword with glassy eyes.
"Don't worry," said the companion kneeling before the child and tossing Lars his own sword. "Don't worry little one, you don't think I would leave the cities great defenders unarmed do you? Tomorrow I'll have a new sword made for you, and I'll have the master of the Skyforge inscribe the blade with mystical runes to keep it strong."
Just as she said this a second crack pierced the evening, and Lars approached with the two pieces of his sword. "Mine broke too."
Bracknel and Aela had a hard time getting the hunter back into his furs and boots. They had a harder time getting him up the stairs to the inn. The man was a bigger mess than usual, sweat streaked hair and fat lip. His knees were gone and he leaned heavily on both of them to get into the inn and even then they had to pause for him to spit blood into the bushes by the entrance.
For her part Aela was looking a bit frazzled from exertion and sweat but her bloody nose was already gone. She helped Bracknel get the hunter inside and situated at a corner table and wandered off to the bar. Bracknel took his seat and peered at the hunter propped against the wall, "How are you feeling?" he asked.
The hunter was leaning back, brow knitted, eyes closed and lips parted in a silent groan. He glanced at the old nord from under a heavy lid. "I feel like I deserve some hunningbrew mead."
Bracknel smiled, "Well thanks to you, we can actually afford it."
"So you go your money then?"
"I did but it wasn't easy. That big cow-cranker doesn't like how you fight."
"I don't think most nords would like the way you fight." Aela said as she returned to the table. "Here drink this." She handed the hunter a small veil filled with a curious dark red substance.
"This doesn't look like mead." the hunter said irritated.
"You need to drink this first." Aela insisted.
"Is this blood, its kinda viscous."
Bracknel leaned in a peered at the veil "Oh thats just the blisterwort. It's a potion of healing."
"Why is it chunky?" the hunter asked holding it out and away from him
"Thats actually a good question, why is it chunky, Aela?"
The huntress shrugged "Hulda says she keeps a few veils around for bad hang-overs. It might be a little old, but shake it up and it should be fine."
The hunter did so and popped the cork. He tentatively brought the small potion to his lips and sipped. He froze, eyes wide and shimmering brown from behind his dark locks. His face slowly pinched into a look of absolute disgust. He glared at the two.
Aela glared right back like she always did, "What were you expecting? Snowberry juice."
"Next time just toss it back," Bracknel offered as the hunter fought to swallow the gloppy concoction. It tasted like how infected feet smelled. When he finally got outside the potion he sat back and gulped in air.
"Now get the rest down then we can talk mead." Bracknel looked to Aela as she took her seat. "So what do you think?"
"Mead sounds good to me?" Aela said resting her elbows on her table.
"Not that. What do you think about getting the lad some training?"
"I know what you meant." the huntress tapped her chin, "I like it, I know the wilds more than most so I can see how he's pulled it off but... He lacks skill."
"That's why we're here."
"He lacks strength."
"We can fill out is frame a bit"
"He stinks..."
"That's... well, that's unfortunate."
"He fights without honor."
"He fights the way he must." Bracknel snapped.
"I understand that but who would we get to train him? I can do some but I almost never carry a sword. Vilkus or Skior wouldn't like it Farkus might be too dumb to have an. Ria would hate him, so would Njada..."
"Do I know Ria?"
"No you don't know Ria, she's new. Eager to prove her self that one. Might be able to use her as a sparring partner... hmm Athis?"
"The Dark-elf?"
"Yeah he lives for fortune and glory, but he knows how to be quick and shifty with a sword. He's our best bet, but why don't you train him? I know you can."
"Well someone has to watch don't they."
Aela rolled her eyes, "Sure they do."
"What about Eorland do you think we can handle him?"
"He's stern but simple. If it's not coin it's novelty. I'll front the coin, just do your best to be interesting. Come up to Jorrvaskr tomorrow morning we'll see what we can get done."
"Fine, are you ready to be interesting, stranger?"
"Yeah," since the hunter had choked down the rest of the potion, he'd been sitting still feeling an uncomfortable raising heat in his neck and limbs. Maybe it was the potion maybe it was the beating but he thought he might be sick. He endeavored to take his mind off of the feeling by taking a good long look at the Bannered Mare.
Of all the taverns and inns he had been to this one was by far the most homey, a fire pit burned in the center surrounded by benches making the whole thing feel like camping with a roof. Small round tables lined the walls and were tucked into corners, a modest bar to one side a doorway that smelled like cooking food to the other. Another doorway on the far side of the room seemed to lead to the guest rooms.
The Bannered Mare was gently packed that night with merchants, farmhands, off duty guards and of course bards. The young blonde nord with a freshly shaven face and slick hair was playing a drum. He was playing it rather strangely, electing to hold the drum under his arm, so he only had the one arm free to play the rhythm. He should be sitting with the drum between his knees but apparently this bard was more interested in being seen.
Sitting at the bar were two figures who seemed oddly regal. One wore a grand multi-colored blazer covered in tassels and insignias, his nord beard was smooth and knotted and his hair was braided over his ears. The other nord was dark haired in a long deep blue robe, his hood was down and his beard wrapped around his jaw but never reached his chin. With his hooked nose and robes he was like a perched owl on the stool.
"You can't tell thats really Jarl Balgruuf over there?" Bracknel said astonished.
Aela glanced over to the noble nord with the careless grin, "Oh yes, he's always liked being among the people but since his wife's passing this has become more common."
"Oh that's terrible, and who's that next to him?"
"At a guess, that's Farangar the court wizard."
"A wizard eh? I'm surprised to see him out of his tower."
"Well get a good look, because he won't be long. It's only a matter of time before-"
"Jarl Balgruuf!" Came a call from the door way.
"And here's Irileth." Aela muttered bored.
"Oh gods," Groaned the Jarl of Whiterun as a lightly armored Dunmer woman came storming into the inn and pulled him away from his drink. "Damn it woman, I'm just having with my people!"
"And we love having you," called the woman tending the bar "Cheers to the jarl!"
"Cheers!" came the call of the assembled crowd as their fearless leader was dragged back to his castle. The wizard had made no attempt to help his jarl and seemed utterly unperturbed at losing his drinking parter. In fact the hunter saw the same women that had met them in the street slide into the seat next to him. Arcadia he thought her name was.
"Well I take it back," Aela said chuckling, "I guess the wizard is not important enough to need protection."
"Or perhaps he's strong enough to handle himself." Bracknel suggested.
"Trust me he's not that kind of wizard, he all books and theories. I've never seen him cast a spell."
"Saadia wake up dear," called the woman at the bar.
"Yes ma'am," came another voice. Suddenly a dark-skinned Redgaurd woman with chin length hair and a series of scars under her left eye came rushing up to their table. "Hello Aela," she greeted, "What can I get you?"
"I'll have a mead and a chop of venison if you have it."
"We do, we're still working on that deer you brought us yesterday. And what would your... friends... like." It was clear she was trying not to say "companions".
"Have you got any soup on?" asked Bracknel.
"Venison stew with carrots and leeks," Saadia confirmed.
"I'll have some of that and throw in some fresh bread and a Hunningbrew mead."
"Done, and what about him?"
Bracknel and Aela looked back at the hunter who was sitting back looking a bit peaky. The heat of the potion had reach his lips and he licked them numbly, squinting at his hands. "You know," he said finally "I think that my middle finger on my right hand kinda bends to the right, I just never noticed because because I always had the pointer finger to balance it out."
Aela, Bracknel and Saadia all stared blankly at the hunter till Bracknel cleared he thought "He'll have the same."
Hunningbrew Mead had a definite edge but is was far smoother than any mead the hunter had ever had. He spend half the time sipping from the bottle and half holding the cool glass to his temples, once he'd had some food the strange raising heat of the potion was replaced by the floating feeling of inebriation. The soup had been fantastic the venison had just about melted in the pot, the fat of the tundra deer had rendered and thickened the broth. It was sumptuous and when combined with the warm feather soft bread that lived up all Bracknel's praise, the hunter was left in a state of momentary bliss. He could hardly feel his swollen jaw or any of the other bruises dotting his body, the soup it seemed had melted them too.
Aela had ripped her chop of venison apart with her teeth, now she and Bracknel were leaning back in their chairs, nodding there heads to gentle sound of the bard drumming and whistling, "So old man, we got drinks we got time, spill. What's with the footlocker?"
Bracknel leaned in a Aela followed suit. "I made an excursion up to bleak falls mountain."
"To the Barrow?"
"No to the far side, near the reach?"
"Why go so far?"
"Oh I've been all over lately, things grow ill on the mountain. The older is out of balance. Something has come to the mountain, or perhaps it has been awakened, whatever it is it lingers there and I just can't find it."
"I could talk the twins into sniffing around the mountain for a few days."
"The companions are heros and their skills are many but subtlety is not among them. If barreling around the wood worked I would have found it by now."
"That's fair, but don't do anything stupid."
"It's too late for that. Being stupid is how I came across a blade winter."
"A what."
"Well I'm not sure what to call it, I found it stowed away in a frozen trolls cave."
Aela press her face into her palms. "Bracknel..." she groaned.
"Don't worry the troll hasn't lived there for a year. I think it shacked up with another troll across the valley but I digress. I found a sword forged in ice. A hilt of moonstone and a crystalline blade carved from some unmelting glacier. It's chilling to the touch and sharp enough to rend flesh like it's cutting air. Everything it touches starts to freeze and even as it sits idle you can hear the winters biting wind coming from it."
Aela nodded slowly, "I've known enchanted weapons before but this sounds particularly potent. Why don't we bring it to Farangar to see what he can make of it?"
"I'd not idly put this thing into the hands of anyone I don't know let alone a wizard."
"Quit being so stubborn."
"Look who's talking."
"Who do you think taught me."
"You're mother, I am the very soul of acquiescence."
"Where is this thing now?"
"Its keeping my drink barrel cool." Aela returned her face to her palms as Bracknel continued, "It was hell trying to get back to the treehouse but I found an old scabbard that seems to be dampening the aura but it won't be long before my whole treehouse is a iceberg, and the noise is dread full to sleep through, so I need something long and strong, that can contain it and keep it quiet."
"So you'd really rather commission a footlocker than give a magical artifact to the wizard of a trusted jarl?"
"Precisely."
"Well I suppose it's your gold. Speaking of which how much did you make off that bet?"
"Well the victor here," Bracknel nudge the quiet hunter with his elbow, "Won 5 gold."
"Not bad, should see you through a couple days here."
"Thanks," the hunter grumbled still only half listening to them. Bracknel tried to slap him on the shoulder but the hunter flinched away wincing.
"I think an early bed might be in order for him."
"And for you," Aela nodded "You came a long way on foot today."
"Ah the night is young for me yet," the elder hunter tossed his bottle back and finished it off, "What of the world? What news has come through Whiterun."
"The news is bloody for the most part."
"Of course."
"War in the north, Stormcloaks from the pale attacked an imperial fort near Morthal. It was a small skirmish and the legion held the fort, but they also suffered more casualties.
"It was a probing attack."
"Seems so, meanwhile over in Solitude they executed the guard who opened the gate for Ulfric."
"It was only a matter of time, nord customs don't matter to the empire, in the end a king was killed and that's enough."
"In tenuous times like these I can honestly understand it."
"So can I; Ulfric would have brought war against the empire weather they accepted his rule or not. What will you do?"
"The companions will continue to be the shield of the people."
"I can only hope that such noble aspirations survive this war. Anything else?"
"Hmmm... yeah there was a murder in the middle of Riften and they don't know who did it, apparently someone snuck into the orphanage and beheaded the old woman who runs the place, I can't remember her name."
"Grelod..."
The two looked to the hunter who suddenly seemed very awake. "Did you say something Stranger?"
The hunters mouth was suddenly dry and he licked his lips trying to comprehend what he'd just heard, "Her name is Grelod the kind."
