-Heh-heh... Hi... Yeah, didn't think you'd ever see me back here, did you? Well, I meant what I said last time, taking that hiatus to focus on that other project. But, that project has finally been completed and I can now return my attention to this story!
Speaking of which, I hadn't exactly been idle with this story in the meantime! I had written out a little bit of the chapter before the hiatus so I'd at least have something to work with when I came back to it! Don't you worry, I'd had a mental roadmap of where this story was to go during that time as well, so it should help me with updates from here on out! Anyway, enjoy! -
"Candlehearth, Candlehearth..." Galadriel muttered to herself as she walked into Windhelm. She unconsciously held her hood a little tighter over her head as she moved. The icy chill of the wind felt a bit more stinging the moment she set foot within the walls.
Thankfully she did not have very far to walk, as the very building she was looking for stood right before her. The large, stone structure stood tall and in the center of a large courtyard area. With ears focusing in just slightly, she could hear the faint sound of music and voices coming from this building. That was as good indication as any that she had the correct place. Looking all around, the only people that could be seen walking were a couple patrolling guardsmen. Not terribly many, but it was best not to push her luck. Her Guild's presence wasn't firmly established in Windhelm yet.
Galadriel swiftly made her way up the stone-cold steps towards one of the doors of the Hall, pushing her way through. The whine of the cold wind was briefly cut off as the door closed behind her completely. In its place, the Bosmer felt immediate relief from the warmth of the interior upon her skin. She reached up to pull her hood back and uncover her head completely, until she almost regretted doing so.
Before her, a couple of the the Nords were seen. A couple were patrons and one was the bartender. One by one they glanced in her direction, with a frown immediately creeping up on their faces as the looked her over. Galadriel knew this type of face they were making. It was judgement for what she was, rather than what she did for a living. It was not comforting, but such was life for a Wood Elf in Skyrim.
"You got the wrong place, elf," one of the patrons practically spat, his tone a mix of cold disdain and slurred words, "Crawl on back to the Gray Quarter, where ya belong...!" A quick glance at these patrons, and Galadriel deduced that none of these patrons were likely the Nord she was looking for. The other Nords said nothing, but still shook their heads while looking at her. Their opinions weren't likely to be any different from the inebriated male Nord's here it would seem. Still, if this was the worst that she was to suffer through during her time here, then she could deal with it.
Perhaps the man she was looking for was up these stairs, on the right side that led to an upper level. Galadriel gave a small shake of her head and made her way up the wooden steps. A glance out of her eye told her that the none of the Nords from the level below were making any sort of effort of action to back up their remarks. Typical Nords: all boast, little meaning...
She finally reached the upper level of the hall to behold the setting before her. Evening's light from outdoors shone through the windows above, bathing the large room in a soft glow of light. A few candles and a central fireplace provided their own light and warmth for the room as well. For a moment, Galadriel almost considered rolling up her sleeves to take advantage of this inviting warmth. That is, until she remembered where she stood. Or rather, who she was now in the presence of.
The music she'd heard from outside came from a Dunmer, singing some song and strumming away on a stringed instrument she held in her hands. She stood in a nearby corner, watched only by a few of the patrons sitting at tables with flagons in hand of that disgusting Nord ale they like to drink. Aside from throwing her frosty looks, everyone else simply sat at their tables, either staring at the person they shared their table with, the drinks they held in hand, or nothing at all . The typical Nord tavern setting it would seem; Galadriel had seen her fair share of those.
A quick scan of the room, her eyes rested upon one of the patrons who stood out from the rest. A man, dressed in thick yet fancy clothes of green and blue. He was sitting in one of the isolated tables from the rest of the tavern activity, taking occasional sips of whatever liquid was in his mug. Only one side of his face could be seen, but it was clear indication that he was drowning his sorrows with that sort he bore. Looking even closer at his hand, a single ring could be seen on one of his fingers; a flawless ruby, upon a gold band.
"Alright Gal, the man you're looking for is in Windhelm," Delvin had said to her a couple hours after she, Karliah, and Brynjolf had returned to the Ratway, having resumed their 'normal' images as well. They were quick to reassume their roles before their Thieves Guild members. Their timing couldn't have been better in fact, as Delvin had pulled both Brynjolf and Galadriel aside for something the two of them really needed to hear, "His name is Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, head of Clan Shatter-Shield."
"Really?" Galadriel said, crossing her arms, "What all is known about him and his clan?"
"Well, Clan Shatter-Shield is in the shipping buisness primarily. They even have a stake in the port out of Windhelm. It's the city's only port, actually," Brynjolf explained, "Trade from other parts of both Skyrim and even northern Tamriel usually go through either the East Empire Company in Solitude, the port in Dawnstar, or in Windhelm. These days however, most trade vessels are... shall we say, 'hesitant', to do more business than what requires of them with any of the cities."
"Because of the civil war ravaging this land," Galadriel guessed, to which the other two men nodded, "So, if this clan is the head of the only port in Windhelm that sees this kind of 'lucrative' business, they've got to be quite wealthy, don't they?"
"Correct again," Delvin said, "And the man you are to 'visit' is the clan head himself. Only the best is needed for this job: in this case, you."
"Find Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, understood," Galadriel said, "Anything I should know about him specifically?"
"Recently, the family suffered a tragic loss of one of their own," Brynjolf said, "One of their daughters: Freega, or Frigga, however you say her name, died not too long ago. You might be able to use that knowledge as leverage, you might not. I trust you to use your judgement in handling it."
"You know me, the ever careful one," Galadriel said with a smirk. She glanced over her shoulder towards the Thieves Guild rooms as well as the secret entrance that would lead out to the city, before looking back a the two men, "Well, I could probably get going now and arrive at Windhelm before sunfall, if I hurry."
"Sounds good; best of luck out there, Gal!" Delvin waved her off before looking back at the parchment he held in his own hand. Galadriel turned to make her way past the Ragged Flagon and through the secret rooms.
Once she'd entered through the back room of the Flagon however, she noted the sound of a second set of footsteps, directly behind her. She felt a flare of anxiety from this unexpected follower, but she calmed down quick upon seeing that Brynjolf had followed her to this more secluded location.
"Brynjolf...?" she said.
"Lass..." he himself said in between casually looking over his shoulder back towards the tavern's patrons a couple times. He spoke again to the woman with a hushed tone of voice, "I shouldn't need to tell you this, but... Stay focused on the task at hand? Don't take any chances if... if you happen to run across 'them', again..."
"Bryn-" Galadriel started to protest, until she caught herself from the higher spoken volume in her voice alone. She knew exactly whom he was referring to. A part of her was hoping that not talking about it for a time would help ease the severity of this issue in her mind, but then he just had to bring it up again. She had a lot of time to think, as well as calm down, from the three's recent trip out of Riften, and she was feeling a little better. About well enough to ply her usual trade in this land again without trouble, "Brynjolf, I'll... I'll get the job done, alright? I'll do what needs to be done... nothing more." The Nord's face softened a bit from his previous expression of worry and concern.
"Good... that's good to hear," he replied. He reached over to place a comforting hand on the wood elf's shoulder, patting it gently and a couple times for good measure, "You're better than that after all, and it's why you're here. Now then, get going and make this happen!" Galadriel nodded and the two broke apart to walk in opposite directions. Brynjolf made his way back to the Ragged Flagon, and Galadriel made her way through the door that led into the Thieves Guild central chamber.
Her resolve fresh on her mind, Galadriel deftly made her way across the tavern floor to the older Nord's table. The man's back was facing her, so he likely did not see nor notice her approach. Upon taking a seat in the empty chair across from him however, he definitely noticed her.
"Huh? What the..." Torbjorn nearly slurred his words. He eyed the wood elf with dismissal and partial disdain, "Think you got the wrong table, elf. Leave me be..." Galadriel was almost instantly assaulted by the foul breath eminating from this man's lips, rather than the harsh words he leveled at her. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she held her composure.
"You're Torbjorn Shatter-Shield?" she spoke evenly.
"Who's askin'?" the man said, "Wait... you an elf come to 'complain' about wages? I don't have time for-"
"I-I'm not here for that," Galadriel quickly cut in with a wave of her hand, "I've been sent here on behalf of... a 'mutual acquaintance' of ours..." She deliberately lowered her tone at the end, despite the majority of the tavern patrons hardly regarding them in the slightest.
"Hm? Acquaintance?" Torbjorn spoke. His tone this time however suggested not skepticism, but genuine confusion. Galadriel could see his facial features furrow a little as he seemed to struggle to recall, "Erm... who was it again...?" The wood elf brought her voice down to nearly a whisper this time, as well as leaning in ever so slightly towards him.
"Delvin Mallory."
A moment of silence followed, with Torbjorn narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Oh... he actually came through?" he said, "Must be the ale in my head... Heh, definitely not what I was expecting he'd send to me..."
"He did say he would send the best," Galadriel replied cordially.
"He never mentioned he'd be sending an elf though." The woman tensed up, not in fear but in anger and irritation. This feeling only increased when he followed up with, "But, maybe that makes sense to find elves, lizard-people, and cat-folk among their ranks..." A burning feeling could be felt running through the woman's very blood at his words. Was common decency really such a poor trait for Nords to have? If this man didn't watch his words...
Galadriel took a sharp, deliberate breath before speaking, "Every member of the Guild is beyond exceptional, make no mistake about that."
"Hmph, I suppose that remains to be seen..." the man took a quick swig of from his flagon he held in his hand, "I gotta say after all these years, it's somewhat strange to think the Guild might actually be claiming they're worth something anymore." Among everything else this man had done so far, his statement was intended to try and rile Galadriel up, whether he was aware of what he said or not. Luckily the wood elf would not let herself be goaded before composing herself.
"I... don't deny that the Guild had fallen on 'hard times'," she said, "But, we've been slowly and steadily picking ourselves up and improving our lot in recent days. We're ready and able to perform any job that would be required of us, provided the price was right."
"And what makes you think I would want you and your Guild's services?" Torbjorn leveled a look at the girl. Galadriel was not indimidated by this however, as she returned his look with a look of her own.
"Would you have personally summoned one of us to parlay if you had doubts?" A second of staring, and Torbjorn's face faded into a softer, somber look this time.
"It's true... you're right..." he said, "It just... feels so hard to think about some stuff, you know? Ever since my... my daughter was taken from us... from me..."
"Her name was Friga Shatter-Shield?" Torbjorn returned her inquiry with a look, but did give a small nod, "Word reaches far... For what it's worth, I do know what it's like to lose family. A feeling... a void, opens in you that nothing seems to fill..." Galadriel stopped herself from speaking further. Both as a way to mentally compose herself, but also as the rational side of her head kicked in. There was no need to go spilling 'all' of one's tragic history to complete strangers; just enough to get the emotional point across.
"Bah! As if anyone could know...!" Torbjorn took another quick swig from his flagon. He didn't even bother wiping his mouth of ale on his lips before continuing , "My daughter lies dead, and her killer! The bastard, Alain Dufont- he still walks free!"
"What?" a genuinely surprised Galadriel spoke.
"Did I stutter? I said the man that killed my daughter, he's still alive and out there!" The wood elf's eyes narrowed as she processed what the man had said. There could hardly be any other reason he would mention this to her if not for a certain, specific reason...
"Torbjorn... I hope you understand that... that murder is not something we specialize in. Not like the Brotherhood-"
"That's not the only thing..." the man continued, "He not only killed my daughter, but he also stole a family heirloom as well! Aegis-bane, the warhammer handed down to me from many generations of Shatter-Shields past..." Torbjorn took a quick breath of air before continuing, "Look, I know I summoned for you, or someone 'like' you, and I know what you're all known for. I am willing to propose a deal: that warhammer was wrongly stolen from me. Were it to be 'found' and returned to my possession, that would most definitely prove your peoples' worth to me. The Shatter-Shield's still influence a significant share of coin in Windhelm through sea trade after all. In exchange for future contracts I employ, your guild would receive its due share." His back straightened up as he looked at her, also appearing to be the most sober in the short time that Galadriel had known this man, "So... think you can handle these terms...?"
The wood elf straightened up and returned his look with a professional look of her own. This was about as good a deal as she and the Guild were to get. All she would need to do is recover the lost item of this man's, and he would pledge his support to their cause. She tentatively reached her hand out to invite his in a handshake.
"We can."
Torbjorn took her hand into his larger one, nearly crushing it in his grip. Galadriel bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out from the pain. Thankfully, he released her hand and pulled his back. She also pulled hers back and into the concealment of her lap.
"So um... You said your hammer was stolen? By 'Alain Dufont'?"
"Yeah, Dufont..." Torbjorn spat the name out as if he was biting off a deadly insult, "Arrived about three weeks ago in Windhelm, where Friga seemed to take a liking to him. Then soon after, I hear the news: she lies dead in the streets, my hammer stolen, and the coward himself was nowhere to be found!"
"So then, where is he now?"
"Tch, if I knew that, I'd have gone after him myself!" Torbjorn shook his head, "But... I don't know... All I know is he fled Windhelm that same night... None of these guardsmen manage to catch sight of where he fled, the fools..." His face twisted into one of slight disgust as he spoke again, "Maybe he fled down into the Gray Quarter with those dark elves. You could never find anything down there with the likes of them..."
So, a dead-end with this man. He wanted a job to be pulled off for him, yet he didn't have the necessary information for how to carry it out. All the more reason Galadriel very much disliked him, prejudiced comments aside. The only thing she could discern from him was that mention of this 'Gray Quarter', possibly a commune for dark elves. In a city like this, it was probably only Nords they too would be reluctant to speak with, at least that was the hope. Either way, Galadriel had her next steps clear in her head.
She stood up from the table, all too eager to be out of the company of this man. As well as his breath...
"Thank you for your time... I guess."
"Wait a minute."
The wood elf looked back at the older Nord. Curiously, the look he leveled at her was equally strange as it was very concerning. His eyes were filled with focus, and with anger. And Galadriel found herself sitting back down in her chair, slowly.
"I know you said you don't... well, you're not the Dark Brotherhood and all that," he said, "But... I just... I can't let this go! The man who killed my daughter... he deserves death! Nothing short of it! So right now, before I change my mind and reconsider: there's an extra bonus of two hundred coin in it for you if he were sent to Oblivion! Bring back some proof that he's dead, and it's yours."
"But... Isn't the hammer itself already proof enough-"
"Aegis-bane was already mine!" Torbjorn nearly slammed his empty fist on the table. This sudden action surprised Galadriel, and even a couple of the patrons had turned to look in their direction. Their attention only lasted for a couple seconds though with them resuming their drinking and conversations of their own. Torbjorn also took a breath to compose himself, "No, that hammer was wrongfully taken from me and my family. What I'm asking for is that something of 'his' be 'rightfully' brought before me..."
As he trailed off his little rant, he looked at Galadriel yet again. This time the look he leveled at her sent an absolute chill down her spine. He wasn't looking at her with disdain or disgust like before, but this time with a smile. A strange, wicked smile, which only fueled Galadriel's discomfort further. In that moment, the wood elf knew one thing and one thing only.
It was time to leave this man. Now.
"Next time we meet, I'll have good news to share," she said as she rather quickly stood up from her chair again.
"Yeah sure, leave me be then..." Torbjorn dismissed her with a wave of his hand. To her credit, that strange grin on his face vanished just as quickly, replaced instead by his earlier look of meloncholy. With that Galadriel made her way across the tavern floor back towards the steps that she had initially come up before. The patrons and barkeep from down below didn't look at her with any sort of looks of hatred this time. Of course they didn't look at her at all, which suited her just fine.
Galadriel pushed open the tavern door and emerged outside. She was almost immediately assaulted by the harsh chill of an evening wind, whipping her face with tiny shards of snowflakes. She pulled her hood back up over her head and rubbed her sleeve-covered arms more in response as she made her way down the steps.
"Alright, what do we know here..." she said to herself as she walked, "That man has agreed to allying with the Guild, but after I have performed a job for him: retrieving his stolen hammer and bringing it back to him. I'll need to find this Alain Dufont then... but where would..."
"Spare a coin for a poor old woman?"
Galadriel turned her head to the source of the gentle, frail voice that spoke. A nearby beggar stood near a lit brazier, holding her hands as close as she could to the fire. Her gaze on the other hand was slightly turned towards her; those familiar eyes of desperation.
She made her way closer to the woman, all the while reaching her slender fingers into her coinpurse. She too could feel the gentle warmth of the fire brazier on her skin that was exposed. It was nowhere near as warmy as that from within Candlehearth Hall however.
"You see what goes on around here?" the Bosmer asked her.
"I see everything, my dear lady," the begger replied, "Everything going on in Windhelm, I notice."
"Have you by chance seen someone from, say... a few weeks back?" Galadriel deliberately asked the question as she presented what she likely new the beggar craved. She held a single gold septim before her, making the decrepit woman's eyes practically light up at the sight. She then turned her eyes to the Bosmer herself, and an unspoken understanding was instantly reached.
"I see many a traveler, from many weeks back," the beggar said. The way she was posing her reply in the simplest terms, it was a tactic Galadriel knew all too well. Anyone else and she would've been rightly annoyed with. Because it was a beggar however...
She slipped a hand into her coinpurse to retrieve one- no, two gold coins, for good measure. She reached out and dropped them into the woman's hand, though not before quickly adding in,
"Alain Dufont?"
Her further question and the coins hitting the beggar's palm occurred simultaneously. The ragged woman closed her shaking hand into a fist as quickly as she could. After a moment's pause, she looked back up at the Bosmer again.
"Charming, handsome looking man, he was..." she recounted, "Said not a word to me though... Only had eyes for the... well, those better off than I."
"Like the Shatter-Shields," Galadriel spoke. The woman gave a single nod as confirmation before the elf continued, "I'd heard he'd killed one of their daughters, then fled before he could get caught."
"Oh aye, I do remember that night in fact," the woman continued herself, "Ran right past me under the dark of night he did, through this courtyard, and towards the Grey Quarter. Never even paid me mind during then either." The woman paused for a moment, and Galadriel was suddenly made aware of a strange look she was making before continuing, "Of course, with that look he had in his eyes... I would rather have not wanted to speak with him then..."
"Was he carrying anything with him that night? A large weapon, or object even?" Galadriel asked.
"As a matter of fact, he was..." the woman said, "The hammer of Clan Shatter-Shields, right there on his back. I just barely caught glimpse of that insignia on its head before the man had gotten away. Soon after, I heard the cries..." Once again she paused her explanation with a heavy look gracing her face, "Oh, I heard cries that night. No mother should ever have to cry for that... the loss of a child..."
Galadriel listened attentively to the haggard woman recount her story. The lit brazier before the both of them bathed them in the barest of warmth and the slightest bit of light. The elf could see clearly the woman's facial features twisting with concern and even sorrow as she spoke. It was likely as ever that remembering these events of that night must not have been easy for her...
Still, at the very least she was learning a little more than she had learned from Torbjorn himself. The fact that Alain had in fact killed the girl, stolen that hammer, and had in fact fled down into the Grey Quarter. Another eye-witness claim something similar was the best lead she had to work with; her next clue would be found in that part of the city.
"Well... thanks for the information," Galadriel said with a nod before proceeding to walk away.
"Thank you, kind lady," the woman called after her.
The Bosmer turned her attention in the direction of the massive city's gates before her, and the passageway off to the left side. She could see that a guardsman was just walking clear of that section at this moment, leaving her plenty of opportunity to walk herself.
Right around now the sun's light had completely left the sky, leaving the dark of night to begin enveloping the world below. There were also ample amounts of thick clouds in the sky to conceal the twin moons. These were strangely good conditions in play for the moment. Perhaps if she were completed with her current task, or maybe even during at some point, she might find time to exercise her trade in some way... without being caught of course.
Turning another left the passageway became noticeably more narrow in size, shadows increasing as well due to the towering walls slightly closer to her. Combined with how she could feel the ground gradually began to descend ever so slightly, it was a fair enough guess for her to assume she was entering this 'Grey Quarter'.
Her next indicator came in the form of a large piece of cloth hanging from a wall off to the side. It was mainly colored red with decorative stripes of white and yellow upon it. While she couldn't say exactly what it meant, Galadriel could recognize Dunmer craftsman ship where she saw it. While it was a rather beautiful piece in its own right to look at, a number of large tears in the very bottom marred its general aesthetic. From the way she remembered Torbjorn describing this place with disdain earlier, it was not hard to see why that would've been.
"This place reeks of gray-skin filth!"
Galadriel suddenly heard a voice cry out in the air. It came from the other side of corner she had yet turn turn around herself. It sounded like a Nord's voice, with a slight hint of inebriation to it as well. Thinking quickly, she approached the corner itself and a couple of barrels that were positioned close by to it. She then slowly peeked her head around the corner.
Galadriel caught sight of three figures; two Nord men, both holding bottles of some kind of liquid in their hands, and a Dunmer holding his own arms up in a flinching motion. He couldn't see the Dark Elf's facial expressions, but she could only guess that he was fearful or extremely annoyed by the Nords standing before him.
"What's wrong with you Nords? Can't you just leave me be?" he spoke.
"Get outta our city, gray-skin! This is Nord land!" one of the clearly drunk Nords replied in a rather rude and ranting tone.
"Yeah, go back to Morrowind, Dark Elf maggot! You're not welcome here!" the other one added just as cruelly and harshly. Galadriel kept her eyes trained on this entire display before her, watching almost anxiously for what may happen. As it was however, it seemed that the Nords themselves were doing little else besides just yelling drunken rants at the Dunmer.
"Just leave me alone, Nords! I've done nothing to you!"
The Dark Elf suddenly chose that moment to drop to his hands and knees, pawing and the ground before him. Galadriel's eyes instantly narrowed at this sudden action, only to realize that he was simply swiping at various coins on the stone ground beneath him. Had those Nords caused him to lose his coins just now in an altercation earlier? That seemed likely.
A question did present itself: should she herself step in?
"Y-you all better be gone by the time we come back-!" one of the Nords suddenly declared. He gave a gesturing motion with his held bottle of what looked to be ale before proceeding to turn to his right. Reacting quickly, Galadriel shot herself back around the corner and planted her back against the wall.
"Uh-oh, they're coming this way..." she said to herself. If those two drunken louts of Nords caught sight of her, who's to say they wouldn't give her any different treatment than they did to that Dunmer? They might even try something... else... A shudder rolled down her spine at the mere thought.
Glancing down at the barrels beside her, a quick plan formed in her head. These barrels were about just taller than she was if she were to duck down. If she hid behind them at just the right angle, she would be just out of sight of those Nords when and if they came past.
She deftly rounded the barrels and ducked down until the top of her head dipped below the barrel tops. Listening in she could hear the two Nords' drunken rantings growing louder in volume, signalling their approach around the corner. Galadriel briefly held her breath and waited.
Finally, the two Nords could be seen from behind her hiding spot. They were dressed in average garb of what Nord men would wear, thick beards, as well as the bottle of whatever liquid they were drinking in each hand. Both of their attention seemed focused on either themselves or on struggling to walk as straight a line as the could in front of them. Not a single one spared a glance in her direction at any point. This was good; she had not been spotted. Now to just let them pass-
Or, wait a minute... One of the Nords' coinpurse could be seen! It was tied on his right-side belt, close to where she was!
'Sure, why not?' she thought to herself, 'I can think of a better use that can be put to...!'
Instinctively Galadriel slipped her dagger from her holster and held it at the ready. By now the Nord closest to her was within range; about an arms' length away. The man himself still did not even seem to know she was there at any point.
At just the right moment, her hand shot out to gently plant itself beneath the purse, taking care not to let any of the coins within make a jingling sound to give her away. Once her hand was secured, her other hand quickly darted up and severed the thin cord that kept it tied to the Nord's belt.
In one quick motion, the coinpurse was severed from the belt, resting in the palm of her hand, and all the while the Nord kept walking with his drunken companion. At no point did the man in question nor his fellow notice any sort of action out of the ordinary, nor did he turn around suddenly to face her. The two just kept on walking their drunken walk down the alleyway, blissfully unaware of anything.
Galadriel pulled her hand and the coinpurse to her person with a smirk. Another lift completed successfully, with no one suspecting a thing. If only her past self could see her now...
Once she was certain the two Nords had walked well out of sight, she gently rose herself to her feet and stepped out from behind the barrels. The only other sound that could be heard in the air was the gentle howling of snowy wind and the soft clinging of coins. The Bosmer was reminded that the Dunmer was still present.
She rounded the corner to find the man in question still on the ground picking up his loosed coins, albeit less frantically compared to when the two Nords were present. She didn't even try to hide the sound of her footsteps approaching, allowing the Dunmer to glance up in her direction.
"Gah! You both-!" he started, then calmed down upon realizing his new company, "Oh... apologies, Bosmer. I thought it was... someone else."
"It's quite alright," Galadriel said with a wave of her hand. The Dunmer had resumed picking up the rest of his coins off of the ground by this point, "You by chance dropped your coins?"
"Ah, this, well..." the Dunmer had plucked the last coin off of the ground before proceeding to rise back to his feet again, "As it is, before you came along, a couple of drunken Nords had decided to pay me a 'visit'. Surely you must know what's that's like, yourself?" The Bosmer gave a single nod of her head in agreement, "Honestly, how do I plan make a decent living for myself when dealing with inconveniences like this...?"
"Perhaps 'this' might help...?" Galadriel said as she presented the lifted coinpurse before the Dunmer. The Dark Elf took one look at the item with narrowed eyes before apparently realizing what was being given to him.
"Hm? A coinpurse?" he said, "You'd offer your own coin to help out a stranger? I... such kindness in this city is practically unheard of..."
"Please, take it," Galadriel insisted, "You probably need this more than-" The Wood Elf caught herself momentarily from speaking aloud who specifically she had lifted the coinpurse from. As much as her pride wanted to inform the Dunmer of that, perhaps it was more on the safe side that he didn't know it had come from the very Nord that had tormented him earlier, "More than I." Thankfully, the Dunmer did not argue the point further by taking the coinpurse into his other hand.
"Azura's wisdom to you, friend," the Dunmer thanked her, "My name is Vanryth Gatharian; aspiring armor vendor."
"Galadriel, and I'm just passing through Windhelm myself," she introduced herself as well, "Um, by chance... did you happen to notice anyone... unusual, pass through the Gray Quarter, about a week or so back? A man, human, possibly carrying a large warhammer on his person? And, I'm not referring to the city guards either."
"A warhammer? How did you-?" Vanryth spoke with a tilted head, "Someone like that did actually rough past me before! But, how did you-?"
"Did you see where he went?" Galadriel cut in rather hastily, "Is he still here, in this place?"
"What? Um... no, I can't say that I have seen him around here..." Vanryth replied, "In fact, didn't even regard me when he roughed past me. Seemed only like he was talking to himself about... something. Like he was going somewhere..."
"Going somewhere..." Galadriel breathed, "Did he... where did he say he was going?"
"That's the thing, really," the Dunmer said, "Only thing I could hear him say was him talking to himself, something about 'meet with the others outside'... I swear, the name was hard to pronounce. Whatever the place was it started with an 'R'; if I were to guess, sounds like one of those old Dwarven ruins that the scholars give strange and funny names to, west of Windhelm..."
Dwarven ruins. The moment the Bosmer heard those words, she was almost in complete disbelief. Of all the places for her target to have retreated towards, why did it have to be 'there'? Aside from the obvious horrific dangers that lurked within... well, practically any one of them as far as she knew, there was another glaring reason for her dislike of them.
Irkingthand.
'No! No, this is different...!' she thought to herself with a quick shake of her head, 'It's not the same. And 'he' definitely can't be there, at all-'
"Um, pardon my curiosity, but..." Vanryth's voice cut into her thoughts, "Might I ask why you seem so... hard-pressed, to find this person? If I'm being frank, he sounds like a right fetcher just from his disregard alone!" Galadriel was brought back to reality, including where she found herself at present.
"Oh... yes, um..." Galadriel said as she recomposed herself, "Don't misunderstand, he's not really a 'friend' of mine, exactly... But let's just say it's very important that I find him. Or at the very least, 'track him down'."
"I see... well, if that is your choice," Vanryth said with a shrug, "I personally would suggest against insanity such as delving into a Dwarven ruin, but that likely didn't stop him either. All I can say is to tread carefully. Never know what you might find in there..."
'If only you knew...' the Bosmer thought to herself.
"Thank you for the information, Vanryth," Galadriel told him, "Also, take care of yourself as well; you know, in case you have a run-in yourself with any of these Nords, guardsmen or not."
"Oh, I'll be doing the best I can with what I have," the Dunmer said as he proceeded to turn towards the small wooden door the two stood in front of, "But, I appreciate your concern. Safe travels, Galadriel...!" With that, Vanryth pressed the wooden door inward and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
The Wood Elf once again found herself alone in the streets of Windhelm. Her mind was running wild with the numerous bits of information she had learned. There was the plan assigned to her to gain Torbjorn Shatter-Shield's favor and influence for the Guild, the precise favor the man himself requested her to carry out, and only now the recently learned details of how to proceed. At this point, everything hinged upon venturing out to a Dwarven ruin in search of-
Her thoughts came to a halt once again. Galadriel felt her heart quicken in her chest at the mere thought of Dwarven ruins.
'It couldn't have been anywhere else? Like some old stone fort, or maybe even within a city's walls already to just be found?' she mentally complained.
"Curse it... If I'm really to do this, then let's just get it done!" she said to herself. With that she turned back around towards the narrow passageway she had come from while also pulling her hood back over her head. The sting of the icy air around her felt reduced ever so slightly, but the feeling of dread from deep within remained as strong as ever. Advancing the Guild's influence was not likely to be easy, she knew this.
As she deftly backtracked her way along the alleyways, instinctively clinging to the shadows, she let out a prayer as silently as a whisper of death,
"Nocturnal be with me..."
-And there we go, the first part of Galadriel's Windhelm Job. For those of you who played the 'Rebuilding the Guild' questline, you be quick to notice that I'm basically combining that Windhelm mission with the Shatter-Shields instead. No Dark Brotherhood involvement for them here; there was just way too good of potential with them especially with the constant mentions of 'kin murdered, family warhammer stolen'. How could that not play into a better Thieves Guild mission?
But anyway, stay tuned for more from this story, it's good to be back! Keep on reading! -
