A/N: So, here we are, my first attempt at a Skyrim story. There are plenty out there already, of course, but I got the idea for this in my head and found I just had to make a start on it. For all the hours I've put into Skyrim, though, I can't claim to know much about Elder Scrolls lore in general, although I've tried to be as accurate as possible.
Please let me know what you think if you can spare the time, reviews always help!
Chapter 1: Brutish
As the man on the throne before him continued to drone on about some elderly Nords atop a mountain and how he thought Valorn should meet with them, the High Elf did not bother to continue paying attention. The dragon had been defeated, Whiterun had been saved, and he had been largely responsible. Instead of simply rewarding him for his role in slaying the beast, though, Balgruuf seemed intent on boring him to death with information about the so-called 'Masters of the Way of the Voice.'
This was exactly what made the Nords so inferior to the Altmer, and indeed mer in general. Their reverence for their ancient traditions bordered on obsession a lot of the time. How could they possibly hope to see what the future held when they were so focused on what had come before? At least his own preoccupation with the past was concentrated directly on very recent events… and those events were entirely responsible for why he had even come to Skyrim in the first place. He had, after all, been faced with little choice but to travel to this frozen hellhole. However, being captured, nearly executed, and almost burned alive by a dragon had hardly been what he had hoped would transpire upon arriving.
"You've done a great service to me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honour that's within my power to grant."
That caused Valorn to refocus on the Jarl. It seemed the man had finally got to the interesting part. A title was… something, he supposed, but it would be of little practical benefit. He needed gold, weapons… and most of all, to keep moving.
Oblivious to how unimpressed his new Thane was with the position, Balgruuf continued without pause. "I assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armoury to serve as your badge of office."
What?
Valorn accepted the offered weapon, a steel sword that glinted with a faint green sheen which confirmed the presence of an enchantment, as the Jarl held it out to him. The blade was not the problem. While it was made of steel rather than anything more sophisticated, the craftsmanship was impressive, and the enchantment was a pleasant surprise, given the prevailing opinion among Nords when it came to magic. No, the issue stemmed from the other thing the man reclining on the throne had just said. Not only was Valorn stuck in the land of the Nords, but now one of them would follow him wherever he went?
"I'll also notify my guards of your new title." Balgruuf somehow had still not picked up on how unenthused he was. "Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honoured to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn."
Descending the steps that led to the way out of Dragonsreach as fast as he could without running, desperate to get some fresh air after so many minutes wasted listening to the Jarl prattling on, he almost didn't see her.
The immense doors were only a few metres away when a dark-haired Nord woman suddenly approached from where she had been standing just to the side of them, causing him to halt in his tracks as she spoke.
"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honour to serve you."
The woman, Lydia, he remembered Balgruuf had called her, was dressed for battle. Steel armour, under which there was a layer of thick fur to protect against Skyrim's freezing temperatures, covered her almost completely. Aside from her head, only her fingers and thumbs and a section of each arm from just below the elbow to mid-bicep were unprotected. The former likely so she could maintain a firm grip on her weapons, and the latter so she could move them about unrestricted.
At her hip was a sheathed blade much like the one Valorn himself carried, and her left hand held a steel shield that she bore without apparent difficulty. Judging by how comfortable she appeared in her armour, it seemed a safe bet that this was certainly not her first time wearing it. In short, she was a typical Nord. Experienced in combat, yes, but slow, clumsy, and likely just as stupid as the rest of her kind.
Realising he had not yet responded, Valorn grasped for something to say. "I'm a Thane? What does that mean?" he managed finally.
"The Jarl has recognised you as a person of great importance in the hold," the armoured woman replied, a note of admiration in her voice. "A hero. The title of Thane is an honour, a gift for your service." He thought she had finished before she spoke again, clearly having debated internally whether or not to continue for a moment. "Guards will know to look the other way, if you let them know who you are."
Struggling once again to find something to say, Valorn eventually settled for asking something that he knew would only confirm his suspicions. "What does a housecarl do?" he responded.
"As my Thane, I'm sworn to your service. I'll guard you, and all you own, with my life."
So, it was as he had suspected. Balgruuf thought he was rewarding him by saddling him with a Nord companion. Valorn opened his mouth to tell her that he would not be requiring her services, only to pause as a thought occurred to him. Even here in Skyrim, they had influence. He could keep moving all he liked, but eventually they would probably catch up with him, fate was like that. If they did, he might not be able to escape or slay them all before being killed himself. Having this… housecarl with him meant he would not be as badly outnumbered. And if all else failed, he could always use her as a distraction.
His mouth had closed while he had been thinking. Refocusing his attention on the woman before him, Valorn cleared his throat before speaking. "Lydia, was it?" he asked uncertainly, only half sure that was what Balgruuf had called her. Receiving a nod in reply, he continued, forcing down his distaste at what he was about to say next but knowing he was making the intelligent choice if not the palatable one.
"Follow me."
Turning away from the Nord woman, the Altmer resumed his progress towards the immense set of doors that led out of Dragonsreach before pushing them open, a chilling gust of wind washing over him as he did so. Stepping through the doors, Valorn stared down at the city before him, stretching out from the bottom of the stone steps that led up to where he stood.
Even more time had passed during his conversation with the Jarl than he had first thought. It had been late afternoon when he had returned with news of the dragon's demise, but it was now mostly dark. Stars had appeared in the sky, the tiny dots of bright white light twinkling over the buildings far below them. Being made of stone, wood, and thatch, the houses and shops of Whiterun were much like their Nord inhabitants in Valorn's opinion; durable, but uninteresting and rather unpleasant to look at.
Unbidden, his thoughts returned to home. To the Summerset Isles and just how different they were to Skyrim, to the extent that it was hard for him to believe they were both parts of Tamriel. He might never see them again. Certainly it would be suicide to go back before many years had passed considering—
"My Thane?"
Valorn closed his eyes in irritation. If she could not let him think in peace, he would probably be better off without her, skilled warrior or not. "What is it?" he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance as he turned to face the Nord woman.
Lydia blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by his tone. "We've been standing here for a couple of minutes," she explained. "I was wondering if all is well."
"Everything is fine," Valorn replied, struggling not to grit his teeth. "I was considering my next course of action." Turning away from the Nord again, he frowned. While a lie, what he had just said did raise a good point. What was he going to do next? He could not stay in Whiterun any longer than was absolutely necessary. He had not seen any other High Elves here, meaning he might well be the only one. Even if he were not, he was still an unusual sight, which would attract a great deal of attention from the people of the city over time. And worse, that in turn would attract their attention.
His next course of action was therefore obvious. He had to leave, before they came to investigate. But where to go?
Returning his attention to Lydia, Valorn forced himself to swallow his distaste as he asked for her help. "The men Balgruuf mentioned," he began, "the Greybeards… they can be found at the top of a mountain, correct?"
The dark-haired woman nodded. "They live in High Hrothgar, near the summit of the Throat of the World."
"How long would it take us to get there?"
Lydia paused in thought. "On foot? Weeks or even months, my Thane. Whiterun is on the wrong side of the mountain. The only way to get to High Hrothgar is to head to a village on the other side… I think it's called Ivarstead, and then start travelling up the mountain from that direction."
Valorn nodded, taking a moment to digest the information. "And these Greybeards," he continued, "are they as reclusive as Balgruuf claims?"
He could not be certain in the poor light, but he thought Lydia's eyes narrowed in irritation at his repeated failure to refer to the Jarl using his title. "Anyone else will tell you what Jarl Balgruuf did," she replied evenly. "The Greybeards have almost nothing to do with the rest of Skyrim. The only reason they have taken an interest in you is because they think you are Dragonborn, my Thane."
Valorn nodded again. That settled it. If there was one place they would not think to look, one place where he could avoid them, if only for a time, then this was it. The irony almost caused him to smile. Despite his thoughts on the Nords and their traditions, he was going to travel to a place of great significance to them. Being hunted could truly make one do insane things.
Even though his instincts told him to leave Whiterun as soon as possible, Valorn knew it was too late to make any real progress today. The roads of Skyrim had a reputation for being safe enough while it was light, but when it was dark they were often patrolled by all manner of predators. Wolves, bears, and sabre cats were only the tip of the iceberg as far as those were concerned, and so only the foolish would travel while it was dark. No, the best course of action at the moment was to find somewhere to sleep within the city's walls and then set off first thing in the morning. Well, second thing. First he would need to buy some supplies with the small amount of gold he had acquired since arriving in Skyrim.
"Take me to the nearest inn," he said at last, gesturing for Lydia to lead on. "We will rest and then buy supplies at first light before departing for High Hrothgar."
Even Valorn had to admit that the Bannered Mare was surprisingly pleasant for a Nord tavern.
The first thing he noticed upon entering, which likely was also the feature most appreciated by the establishment's patrons aside from the ale and mead they were currently drinking, was a large fire pit in the centre of the room. Stacked high with burning logs and clearly having been tended to recently, it filled the air around it with a comforting warmth that was a sharp contrast to the bitter cold outside.
A simple wooden bench sat on either side of the fire pit, with a scattering of chairs and small tables around the room providing other options for where to sit. On the far right of the room was a wooden counter, behind which stood an older Nord woman who Valorn guessed was the innkeeper. Upon hearing him enter she turned to face him, a smile appearing on her face.
"Come on in. Let me know if you need anything, or take a seat by the fire and I'll send someone over."
Nodding slowly in reply, Valorn headed for one of the offered chairs, which was one of the ones with a nearby table, before easing himself down into it and wincing slightly as his back protested. Considering he had been fighting a dragon a mere few hours earlier, he certainly could have been worse for wear. Fortunately, though, he had been wise enough to keep the pile of rubble that had once been a watchtower between himself and the beast at all times, preventing it from roasting him alive. Most of the Whiterun guards who had been present had lacked the foresight to do the same and paid the ultimate price as a result.
Once again, typical Nord behaviour. Brave, he supposed, but stupid.
The creaking of wood tore him from his thoughts as Lydia sat down heavily in a chair on the opposite side of the table, the piece of furniture struggling under the weight of her armour. Their eyes met and a palpable sense of awkwardness filled the space between them as neither spoke.
Deciding he might as well use the opportunity to continue his examination from when they had first met, Valorn began scanning the woman across from him. With facial features far less sharp and angled than those of his own people, he had always found it hard to estimate the age of Nords and humans in general unless they had at least some degree of grey hair. As Lydia did not and she was clearly fully grown, he would have to hazard a guess that she was somewhere between her early twenties and late thirties, given how short-lived humans were. However, without actually asking her, he had no way to narrow down her age further.
Lydia shifted slightly, perhaps uncomfortable as a result of his inspection, causing him to notice the braid in her hair to the right of her eyes for the first time. The rest of her shoulder length black hair hung loose, meaning the braid stood out the more one looked at it. Pushing aside his curiosity as to why she bothered with it given it served no real practical benefit as far as he could tell, Valorn had to suppress the urge to flinch as the Nord woman leaned in slightly, a frown on her comparatively round features. It was only then he realised that while he had been examining her, she had been taking the opportunity to do the same to him.
Valorn supposed he must seem just as alien to her on account of him being an Altmer as she did to him as a result of being a Nord. Indeed, it was hard to imagine how they could have been more different. Where she wore heavy steel armour, he wore the blue and off-white, almost brown robes and hood of a mage, which provided virtually no protection by comparison, though they made up for it by allowing him to cast spells more easily. That had been one of the few positives of his time in Helgen, as he had been able to acquire both items as well as some sturdy shoes during his escape from the dragon.
Even more obvious a distinction, though, was the difference between their respective skin tones. While humans and Elves were similar in some ways, possessing the same basic body parts and with the same key differences between males and females, no observer could ever fail to see they were two very different groups of peoples. If nothing else, the radical difference in colour between the pale, nearly white skin Nords typically possessed compared with the yellow, almost golden skin of his own people saw to that.
Valorn wondered for a moment whether the woman opposite him was having as much trouble gauging his age as he was hers. The uncomfortable silence seemed as though it would never end before finally, mercifully, the sound of approaching footsteps caused Lydia to look over at a point just past his shoulder. Turning to follow her gaze, the Altmer watched as a Redguard woman made her way over to their table before stopping before the two of them.
"Hulda asked me to check if the two of you need anything," she explained. "Most of our rooms are taken for the night, but we have a handful left. We're also about to stop serving food for the evening, but there may be some left if either of you are hungry." Her gaze moved between Valorn and Lydia a few times before finally settling on the High Elf, a grin appearing on her face.
"Or, if you prefer, we do have one free room with a double bed."
It was clearly meant as a joke, but Valorn still felt himself recoil. Thinking of sleeping in the same bed as a Nord was repellent enough, but the implication of more than that caused the taste of bile to fill his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lydia was just as horrified by the joke as he was, her cheeks a deep red as she gripped onto the side of her chair to steady herself.
As the Redguard woman, her gaze once more switching between the two of them, began to apologise, Valorn waved for her to stop before gathering himself enough to speak. "Two rooms," he said firmly, stressing the first word as much as he could. "Regarding food, yes, see if there is any remaining."
The server nodded before turning on her heels and departing, leaving him alone with Lydia again. Still reeling somewhat, Valorn turned back to face the housecarl, the awkwardness from before seeming almost quaint compared with what was present now. Lydia, for her part, seemed just as uncomfortable as he was, her eyes darting from side to side as she searched for anything else to focus on, before her gaze settled on one of the other occupants of the room, who had just risen to his feet, a lute in hand. Inwardly, Valorn groaned. As if he had not endured enough already today, now he would be forced to listen to what the Nords laughingly called music?
The bard, instead of playing, gazed around the inn before motioning to himself with his free hand and then tossing back his mane of blonde hair. Valorn groaned again, this time outwardly. Not only was this a bard, this was a conceited bard to boot. Thankfully, after a few more seconds of posturing, someone called out the name of a song Valorn was not familiar with, causing the bard to cease his showing off and instead begin singing.
"There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!"
Tuning out the man's voice as best he could, Valorn glanced back at Lydia, who already seemed absorbed in the song. Well, either that or she was deliberately concentrating on it as much as possible in order to try and avoid paying any attention to him. Regardless, the end result was a welcome one.
Leaning back in his chair slightly, Valorn felt his eyelids grow heavy. It was incredible to think of just how much had happened to him over the past few days, from being captured crossing the border to the present moment. Despite his distaste when it came to Nord architecture, he could not help but think of the room somewhere above him that was no doubt currently being prepared. If there was one similarity between his people and the Nords, or Elves and humans more generally, it was that both knew the value of a good night's sleep.
He only realised he had begun to drift off when a bowl of some kind of stew was placed on the table in front of him, causing him to look up to see the Redguard from before placing another identical bowl in front of Lydia. The rich smell of the dish reached him a second or so later, his stomach making its need known with surprising ferocity. Taking the spoon the server offered him as Lydia did the same, Valorn forced himself to turn his gaze away from the food before him as a small cough caught his attention.
The culprit was none other than the Redguard. "Your rooms are ready," she explained. "When you want to go to sleep, let me know and I'll take you to them." The Altmer nodded, which prompted her to continue. "The rooms are ten gold each, and it's twenty for the food."
Wordlessly, Valorn reached into his robes before withdrawing his coin purse and handing over the required amount. Not bothering to thank the Redguard as she took the money and left, he returned his attention to his bowl of stew. The first mouthful confirmed that it tasted as good as it smelled, the meat having been cooked perfectly and the flavour of the accompanying vegetables blending together well with it.
Although he tried to concentrate on the stew, savouring each mouthful in an attempt to distract himself from the woman opposite him, Valorn could not shake the suspicion that she was now observing him. Every time he looked up at her, though, Lydia seemed entirely engrossed in her own food, her dark eyes never wavering from it. Perhaps he was imagining things, but she almost appeared too interested in her stew, as though she kept forcing herself to look at it whenever she sensed he was about to catch her staring at him.
After several minutes of this, Valorn felt he had endured enough. Jerking his head up, he finally caught the housecarl's gaze with his own, causing her to jump slightly. Remembering that he had already paid for their rooms and knowing it would be unwise to cause a scene as a result, the Altmer lowered his spoon before crossing his arms. Silently, he bemoaned the fact that he hadn't considered demanding the Nord stay in a different inn. Certainly it would have made his evening more pleasant if she had.
After several seconds had passed, Lydia began to fidget almost imperceptibly, the nervous tic threatening to draw a smirk from him. Refusing to let his amusement show, Valorn instead shrugged before speaking, allowing a note of irritation to creep into his voice.
"What?"
"My Thane?"
Valorn felt his mood sour further. He had no interest in playing along while she feigned ignorance.
"You keep looking at me," he elaborated slowly, well aware of how condescending he sounded but not caring in the slightest. "I want to know why."
"I wasn't…" Lydia trailed off as she realised he would not relent. "Forgive me, my Thane. I didn't mean to offend you. I was just…" she trailed off again, which only caused the Altmer's irritation to grow even more.
"Whatever it is," he replied acidly, "spit it out."
As they had earlier when he had failed to use Balgruuf's title, Lydia's eyes narrowed, the Nord pulling herself up straighter in her chair. "I was just wondering," she said, voice steady, "about why you came to Skyrim."
"Does it offend you that I'm an Altmer?" He had to fight to keep the sneer off his face. Getting into an argument was something he would rather not do right now given how tired he felt. Well, that and the fact that, once again, he had already paid for their rooms.
The Nord's eyes now widened in surprise. "No! No, not at all. It's just that… well, the Summerset Isles are a long way from Skyrim and everything here must be very different to what you're used to. I was just curious as to why you've come here, that's all."
Valorn considered the woman opposite him for a moment before replying. Surprisingly, she seemed as though she were telling the truth. Many Nords, and humans in general, still harboured a deep mistrust, even hatred, of his people, a result of the Great War and all the lives it had claimed. That she did not have an instinctive dislike of him was a shock, though it did make some sense given she probably had not even been born by the time the war had ended. No, in all likelihood, she really was just curious as to what had brought him to Skyrim.
"That is none of your concern," he said finally. "All you need to focus on is your duty. Unless you are incapable of doing that?"
Lydia's expression hardened, though her voice remained level. "No, my Thane," she replied, and Valorn could not help but notice how this time the Nord did not place the same emphasis on the title as she had before. She then rose to her feet, even though her bowl of stew was still nearly half full. "I think I will retire for the night. I'm tired and you mentioned you wanted us to get an early start tomorrow morning."
Nodding once to signal his approval, Valorn resumed eating as Lydia marched over to the Redguard server from earlier, before the latter then led her over to a door on the other side of the room. Closing his eyes and focusing on the taste of his now lukewarm meal, the High Elf could almost convince himself he was back in the Summerset Isles instead of Skyrim. Despite how enjoyable it was to pretend, though, he eventually finished his stew and found himself drumming his fingers on the table with nothing to do.
Realising he was still hungry, Valorn eyed Lydia's abandoned bowl before recoiling as he found himself instinctively reaching for it. Hungry or not and regardless of whether he had paid for it, there was no chance he would begin consuming food a Nord, or indeed human in general, had already started on. Unbidden, his hand slid to the sword at his side, the only weapon he carried aside from a dagger concealed beneath his robes and, of course, his magic. Good craftsmanship or not and enchanted or not, it was still a Nord weapon. He could tolerate using it until such a time as he were able to acquire something forged by his own kind. Once he had something better, though, he would take great joy in dropping the blade down a well, or into a mountain stream, he decided.
Realising he might as well retire himself, Valorn got to his feet, eyes roving around the inn as he attempted to locate the same server from earlier. Eventually spotting her leaning against a wall on the other side of the room, he made his way over to her.
"My room?"
Wordlessly, the Redguard woman motioned for him to follow her before walking towards a different door to the one she had led Lydia to. For a moment Valorn thought she had made a mistake, as he followed her into what was clearly a kitchen. Fresh ingredients sat on a table and set of shelves to his right, while on his left there was a fire, over which hung a pot of the same stew he had just eaten. Before he could ask what was happening, though, the server continued to the far end of the room before beginning to ascend a flight of wooden stairs, causing him to hold his tongue as he followed her.
Once he reached the top of the stairs, the Redguard woman pointed to an open door directly opposite him and only a few paces away. "This is your room," she said, stating the obvious. "Have a good night." Without any further ceremony, she walked past him and began making her way down the stairs, leaving Valorn alone on the landing.
Walking into his room, the Altmer found it was much as he had expected; basic but acceptable. Crammed into the tiny chamber was a surprising amount of wooden furniture, including a simple bed covered in furs to protect against the cold, both a small and a large chest of drawers, a chair identical to the kind present downstairs, and finally a rectangular table that was flush with one of the walls. Two blue and orange striped woollen rugs covered most of the wooden floor, adding some colour to what was otherwise a very drab arrangement.
Shrugging to himself in a way that was neither approving nor disapproving, Valorn closed the door behind him and removed his shoes, placing them underneath the bed before climbing into it. Four lit yellow candles stood atop a plate located on top of the small chest of drawers, and he rolled over onto his side in order to blow them out, leaving himself in total darkness.
As he lay there in the gloom, sleep slowly taking him, Valorn began to wonder just how he had managed to get himself into his current predicament. Here he was, an Altmer in the homeland of the Nords, planning to go on a journey to a place of great importance to the traditions of the Nords with a Nord housecarl. He had to admit, his current plan seemed no less ludicrous now than it had when he had first considered it, but then where the people who were after him were concerned, anything was worth doing if you were one of their targets.
After all, the Thalmor were not the kind of people to show mercy to those they had a grievance against.