Interlude – Following in My Footsteps

  • 15th Sun's Dawn

    The following is a text recovered from a friend of mine who couriers for the Solitude nobles.  He owed me a favor, I think, though now I owe him a drink.  The ink is recent.  It reads like a journal, but not quite and several pages were missing when I first received it.  I'm not sure who this story refers to, but the "spy" within concerns me deeply.  So, this will be logged in my notes as the first entry.  I hope by the end of this collection, I'll find my beloved.

    -Valindor

     

    [Several pages are missing before this one.]

    I turn.  There's no one there.  This is the tenth time since I left The Mountain that I hear footsteps behind me.  Must be one of those damn cats.

    Had I better use of my Voice, I could have seen the blasted creature and settled the score.  Not that the Greybeards had been much help.  They sit on their mountain, oblivious to the war below.  No, not oblivious.  Not ignorant.  That would be forgivable.  This is willful blindness.  Willful exclusion.  Were they not the very image of my ancestors, I would have challenged them for their honor.  Let's see their Voices against cold, Nord steel.  Ain't anything out there to best a good axe at your side.

    -----

    It's a little chilly now.  Snow's starting to fall.  I'm heading up into the mountains to lose this tail.  If I can't out-climb him, maybe I can shout the snow upon his head.  Reveal this coward for what he his.

    -----

    The footsteps!  Still they follow!

    Earlier I shouted down the slopes, "Show yourself!"  No one moved.

    I'm beginning to think this is all in my head.  Some foul magic by the Greybeards or that accursed wizard in Whiterun.

    The moons are out.  Shor's bones they are bright tonight.  It's as if Shor himself was sent to aid me in uncovering this foolish coward.  Ah, there!  Down in the trees.  A fire.  That's no cat.  Or if it is, it's cut its tail off.  No, no big ears.  Time to see what they want.  I hail them, dashing down the slope.  Bushes block my view, but they're just little twigs.

    "What have you been following me for!" I call, emerging into the camp.  The fire's still lit, and there are bootprints in the snow.  Meat's on the fire, roasting.  They've put all the wrong spices on it, but it smells good enough.  I search the area for my mysterious spy, but there's no trace other than the marks around the fire.

    I'm no tracker.  My da' said I shamed Kyne with my poor hunting skills.  Instead, I worked the mill.  My arms are stronger than a troll's, and I've made some coin wrestling bears.  But I'm not stupid.

    The prints are tiny compared to mine.  A woman?  No proper Nord woman, that's for certain.  Over by a rock, there's a big hole in the snow where something was sitting.  And a feather.  Whoever it is is small and won't like the cold.

    "Come on out!  We can share the meal.  I won't hurt you."  For now, at least.  There's silence.

    "I know you're cold out there!"  Not even a leaf moving.

    "Show yourself, damn you!"  Nothing.  

    "Suit yourself."  I eat the meat and enjoy the warmth of the fire.  Her loss.  I sit up as the embers burn down.  Woman or no, I won't sleep with her so close.

    -----

    I must have lost her somewhere in the rocks.  There was a blizzard the other day, but I pushed through it.  A true Nord always knows how to follow the winds, even when Kyne changes them as she dances for war.  I haven't heard those footsteps in three days.

    -----

    Not far from the marshes now.  The Greybeards know how to test a man.  No matter.  Jergen's horn will be in my grasp.  It's getting dark.

    There's a shack up ahead.  Maybe whoever's home will offer some companionship in this lonely land.

    -----

    No one's here.  Only a dead man in a bed and his dog.  I'm touched by the beast's loyalty.  Truly, here is something that knows what it means to be a housecarl--even if their only duty is to guard the remains of their master.  I try to get the pup to follow me, but he won't budge.  There's a journal by the bed.

    "Meeko.  That your name is it?"  The dog barks, but his eyes are sad.  I can't stand to see a Nord left out in the open like this.  Ain't right.  There's a shovel out back, I think.

    -----

    Taken me hours, but I buried the body in Nord fashion.  The dog refuses to stop howling at the grave.

    "Quiet, boy.  The whole woods'll hear you," I say.

    He's not moving.  Maybe he wants to join his master in Sovngarde.  I'm considering this for a moment.  A dog's job is to protect the home and family.  He can't stay out here and starve to death.  I'll be quick about it.  Won't hurt much.  I'm real good at breaking spines.  He'll go to Sovngarde with his master.

    -----

    Cuss it!  A damn arrow knocked my axe away.  I don't see anybody, but I know who it is.  The dog is just staring out into the woods, calm as a bear in the sun.

    "I know you're there!"

    It hits me then.  Only creature good enough with a bow to tag a slim handle like that is one of those thrice-cursed Elves!  I'm taking that sorry, pointy-eared bane of existence down!

    -----

    I can see her now through the trees.  She's looking back at me.  I've never seen eyes like that before.  They're like a strange green gem.  But they're afraid.  Good.  They should be.

    -----

    I didn't catch the wench.  She escaped into the trees like a squirrel.  I thought about chopping them down, but I'd fell the whole woods before I got her.  At least she's gone.  So's the dog.  Figures.  Animals follow that kind like cats in heat.

    -----

    I found the tomb.  It is a mighty monument in memory of my forefathers, though it appears as but a mound from the outside.  My spy has not followed me since the woods, or I have not heard her.  Before I entered, I thought I caught a glimpse of those foreign eyes watching me from a tree, but it could have just been a spriggan.

    -----

    The bandits within are dead.  I go now to retrieve the horn for my proving.  When I find it, I will leave this on the tomb, so that other pilgrims might know of my journey.

    [There are only empty pages, but on the last one, in a corner, is a mark.  It reminds me of something...  I know not what...]

Comments

5 Comments
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  June 1, 2013
    Just curious...I like the lore idea of a Redguard dragonborn actually.  It seems like it was fun to write this one this way, actually...  I have never played a Nord myself...think I will have to walk on the wild side one day, ahem.  
  • Kyrielle Atrinati
    Kyrielle Atrinati   ·  June 1, 2013
    A different Dragonborn.  I've never played a Nord one.  My Dragonborn before was a Redguard.
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  June 1, 2013
    Ah, is this Nord the Dragonborn that you played?  Or a different dragonborn in Gwiahen's universe? Nice comparison between Gwaihen and a spriggan...she probably seems a bit otherworldly after her meeting with Y'ffre and her recent loss.
  • Bryn
    Bryn   ·  December 20, 2012
    This is interesting, too bad about the elf hate though, my favorite races in RPG's tend to be the elven races. Can't wait to read more
  • darren
    darren   ·  December 20, 2012
    now u've made me want to find out what happen next!!!! i wonder who this nord is