Sundas, 17th of Last Seed 4E201 Early Evening

Sven

I never particularly liked my hometown of Riverwood. Perhaps it's because of the constant state of twilight the town lives in, nestled between two of the tallest mountain ridges in Skyrim. Perhaps it's the fact that I was never the rough type, like the other children I grew up with, who always wanted to play Guards and Bandits.

Maybe it's the overwhelming presence of my mother.

Whatever the cause, no one was surprised when I leapt at the chance to leave when I'd heard the Bard's College in Solitude was searching for applicants. I scrounged together all the spare septims I had earned from doing odd jobs around town, and left despite my mother's protests. Solitude and the College were beyond anything I'd ever seen before. And when I completed my training, my freedom became infinite. I would travel wherever I desired, from Markarth to Winterhold. I even travelled to High Rock and Cyrodiil. Every inn would trade me a meal and a bed from a night of revelry. And of course, the beds were plenty large enough for two; I rarely spent a night cold and alone. It was so severed from my childhood, and I loved every minute.

And I despise every minute I waste away here in Riverwood once more.

I'll admit it's hardly the worst place I've plied my trade. Winterhold comes to mind; no amount of the finest Blackbriar Reserve promised by the innkeeper could convince me to spend another bitter cold night amongst those equally bitter mages and malcontents. I look around from the porch of my mother's house. Here, at least, the weather is serene, the patrons are boisterous, and that old haggler Delphine pays me a decent wage for my nights at the inn. Good Colovian Brandy, too. Not that Honnngbrew swill from down the road. Too bad all the women in town were married and, more importantly, faithful. (Not altogether too terrible a problem, hard to avoid a cuckolded husband when you live mere houses away.)

From the corner of my eye, I notice movement at the Riverwood Trader. Lucky me, the one unattached woman in all Riverwood is arranging wares in plain view. Camila Valerius. A gorgeous Imperial woman who opened the store with her brother sometime during my absence. Despite my best efforts, and her obvious interest, I've yet to entice her into bed. I've had more than my fair share of rejection, from whispered apologies to slaps and thrown drinks. But this... This is different. I've never pined after the local tavern wench, or felt pangs of jealousy when they flirted with other men or mer. I wonder when I realized I was courting Camila rather than merely chasing her skirt.

It's due to this recent realization I find myself scowling, despite her presence nearby. Not because of Camila, but because of another man, chopping wood just across the path, thankfully out of sight. A rival of love, and the main obstacle standing between myself and Camila. Faendal. The damned pointy-eared tree-hugger somehow managed to worm his way into Camila's life. And for some gods-awful reason, she seems just as interested. I silently seeth as I furtively glare at the wood elf, working away in silence. What she sees in the waif-ish fool, I can't tell. Even now, he's lazing about, chatting up some stranger in robes. But their private conversations and shared laughter during my sets at the inn make it all too clear how close they are growing. It's unbearable.

I hear a yelling from behind me, startling me out of my silent animosity. Reluctantly I face the second roadblock to my romance. My mother.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!" She raves, pointing to the sky.

For a moment, I'm completely puzzled. "What? What is it now, mother?"

"It was as big as the mountain, and black as night. It flew right over the barrow!"

Gods, it's getting worse. "Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother, if you keep on like this, everyone in town will think you're crazy." The fact that she undeniably was touched in the head notwithstanding. "And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies."

With that, my mother droops her head and shuffles away, muttering under her breath petulantly; "You'll see. It was a dragon. It'll kill us all, and then you'll believe me."

My mother. The bane of my life. I'd been sojourning in Cyrodiil when a courier found me, bearing a letter that mother had contracted Brain Fever. I rushed home, expecting a funeral, but instead finding a brain-addled parent who had survived almost certain death. Whether blessing or curse, I was unsure, considering it left her incapable of caring for herself.

And so I remain.

...

"She's right, you know."

I near jump straight out of my clothes at the sudden voice behind me, turning to find the stranger from earlier standing just over my shoulder. "S...Sorry?"

"About the dragon. She did see one. I'm Talao, by the way."

I take his proffered hand instinctively. "Sven. I'm sorry, but did you just say my mother actually saw a dragon? Surely, you jest. It's not possible; dragons have been extinct since the Second Era."

"Ah, true. I suppose the flaming ruins of Helgen were assaulted by a figment of my imagination then."

I laugh nervously, but the man's expression doesn't change. "By the gods, you're serious. Helgen gone?" Visions of Riverwood going the way of Helgen flashed before my eyes, and I had to repress a shudder. "You had best tell the Jarl in Whiterun. He needs to know about this."

"Most certainly, Sven. But I need your help with something, and that fellow Faendal said you might be able to assist me." I must not have been able to disguise my disgust at the mention of the damned elf, as he continues, "Faendal made the same face before he mentioned your name. Bad blood?"

Frankly, I wasn't sure how much I should tell the man. Gossip is always less enticing when the subject is yourself. But along the same lines, my love life is hardly a secret in this town, and he'd be certain to hear about the particulars soon enough. And better he take my side than that wretched wood-elf. Mayhap he could even help me somehow. "I suppose you could say we're rivals of love. Camila Valerius knows I'm the best man in Riverwood. That elf is kidding himself if he thinks she would choose him over me. I've seen him sneaking over to the Riverwood Trader to speak with her when I'm not around. He's wasting his time."

A wry look appears on Talao's face. "Yes, two people spending time together never blossoms into courtship."

His response peeves me. "Is that sarcasm? I've heard better wisecracks from Orgnar, and I've never seen him smile." At this, Talao bursts into laughter, rather than become insulted. It puts me at ease, knowing he can take a barb in good nature. "Still, you have a point. Camila letting Faendal visit her isn't a good thing for me."

"What do you plan to do about it? Though, far be it from me to intrude on your business..."

Yes, he could definitely help me. "Perhaps... I could forge a letter filled with venemous nonsense. If you delivered it to Camila and claimed it was from Faendal, she'd be sure to spurn his advances." I almost laugh at the simplistic brilliance of it.

However, instead of agreement, I found myself faced with silence. "I do hope that wasn't your final plan."

Confusion. Irritation. "And why not?"

"You seem under the impression she'll take the letter at face value," he says, crossing his arms. "But what if she confronts Faendal about it? Or if he seeks her out?"

This gives me pause, as my mind reels at the possibilities. "He might convince her he didn't write it. And I'd be the obvious suspect."

"Aye. You'd likely come off as rather childish and desperate."

"Driving Camila further into Faendal's arms." I sigh, my good mood deflating. "God's what a fool I am. What am I supposed to do?"

"Do you love her?"

Do I love her? What an asinine question. But before I fire off a witty retort, I realize his question is one I had never truly considered before. Camila was a beautiful woman, to be sure. But had I ever regarded her as... more? Someone to spend the rest of my life with, rather than a night or two of passion?

The answer came more quickly than I would have imagine. "Yes. I do."

Talao's face breaks out into a broad smile. "Then what are you waiting for? Go tell her so. As only a bard can."

As only a bard can? "Well, I had been composing a ballad for her..."

"Rubbish. Toss it."

"Pardon? You just said..."

Still the grin doesn't leave his face. "Composing is far too cerebral for a declaration of love. Save it for an anniversary or a wedding. Find your lass, and spill your heart to her. Let your emotions flow like a stream, and the sincerity will do far more than any mere couplet."

It all seems... Too simple. I want to protest, to tell him of every barrier that stands between us, but he interrupts me once more; "No, no protestations, no excuses. Whatever you may think is holding you back, it's nothing that will dissuade her if she truly returns your feelings."

Somehow, his words inspire me with the confidence I had been lacking. "If this works, you can have whatever it is that you had planned to ask me for earlier." I've never wanted to be in someone's debt more than this minute.