Warmth seeped through the leather plates of my armor, only adding to the uncomfortably humid air of the late spring. I made the armor some time ago as a fusion of collected dragon scales and tooled leather. The result was a culmination of all my experience and training, and a far better reward for all my efforts than the paltry sum of gold sent by the Thalmor at my dismissal.
For Valindor, I purchased a set of light mail. His clothing would only get him killed during the journey to Riverwood, much less Whiterun. Bandits had been creeping down the road from the hills as of late, and in spite of my efforts to cull their numbers, more appeared to arrive every day.
By the time I completed my purchases, the watery, faint glow of the sun was low on the horizon. Still the rain persisted, leaving the air thick and hot and damp. Frogs chirruped deafeningly near the mill where a shallow pond fed the mill's waterwheel. My hood ceased to effectively fend off the wet, and my head and back felt utterly drenched. Altogether, they were miserable conditions for travelling, but the urgency of my mission spurred me onward anyway.
As I stood pondering whether or not we should travel on foot or purchase a steed, horse hooves slopped through the muck behind me. The horse in question looked like a primitive breed, short of leg and proud in stature. He wouldn't move terribly fast, but horses like this were sure-footed and cool-headed. "I thought maybe we could take turns riding Brelye," Valindor said through a yawn. "Of course, it would be nice to know where we're going."
"Whiterun. We're going to visit the priest of Kynareth. I think she might have some answers regarding my dreams," I replied, adjusting the straps of my quiver so it hung within ease reach. I eyed the bottles strung along the sides of the saddlebags as well as the small keg mounted behind the saddle. "Think you have enough alcohol there?"
"I'll have you know they're mostly full of water. Mostly," he replied, feigning indignation. His eyes peered at me clearly, but tiredly, from beneath his hood. "So what is this, some kind of 'tour of Temples'?"
"Here," I said, ignoring his comment and handing him the mail shirt, "Put this on. I think you're probably going to need it." With an unsure look, he stepped under the eaves of a house and slipped the deerskin doublet and mail over his form. The mail ended in a kilt that somehow suited him. Valindor, however, gawked at the armor in horror.
"Couldn't you have gotten me something a little less...feminine?".
"I like it. It looks very Colovian." I bit my lip to suppress the smirk threatening to usurp my expression.
W
e left Falkreath at a jog, Meeko in tow, back from whatever adventures and probing he had done in the town. Most of which must have involved rolling in mud, for he now looked more akin to his wolven brethren than the stark white of a husky. Valindor offered to allow me to ride first, saying he wanted to try to walk off some of the effects of his growing hangover. His nap, evidently, had not been very refreshing.
It was as we passed the ominous house in the forest that I began to wonder about my companion. "Val," I called, chancing upon this new nickname for him, "When you were looking for me, did you ever actually have to defend yourself?"
His quick steps pattered lightly beside me as he caught up. "No. It never seemed to be a problem. I mean, I hunted for game, but... Mostly I ran away or tricked them into letting me go. It wasn't hard. The vast majority of bandits aren't very bright. You on the other hand. I wouldn't want to be on your bad side," he grinned with a wink, his fingers patting my boot as we loped along.
"Are you saying I'm dangerous?"
"Oh, yes. Very. But you're in luck. I just so happen to like dangerous women!"
"I see." Me. Dangerous. How absurd. Yes, I had killed people, but always in defense of myself or others. There was only one man whom I had killed in cold blood.
He lay upon the table, hands nailed into the planks, bite marks covering his arms and legs--his neck, thighs. Those eyes were already dead, and his soul was trapped elsewhere.
I had to do it. I had no choice. I couldn't let him become one of those monstrous creatures. He begged me to do it. I was showing him mercy, I thought, though his pained face still haunted those dreams that had not yet morphed into trees.
At length the sun's light upon the forest truly began to fade, and twilight fertilized the shadows into wild, untamed shapes. Just when I was beginning to question the wisdom of traveling this forest in the dark, we stumbled upon an empty camp, a fire merrily dancing its enticing crackle. Dismounting, I strode quietly into the ring of bedrolls and chests.
"Hello? Anyone here?" Valindor called, looking about for signs of life.
"Shh!" I hissed, clapping my hand over his mouth. Meeko growled low, his ears cocked towards the rocks behind the camp.
"I thought I heard something," said a voice, female.
"You're always 'hearing something', Nanette. Quit complaining," said another, also female.
"We should check the camp, just in case."
"No one's going to be there. It was a stupid idea. You can't trap people by throwing out bunch of bedrolls and expecting them to just show up to be robbed!" the other exclaimed. Her mouth quickly dropped into an 'O' of surprise as the pair rounded the rocks, coming into view.
"See! I told you it would work!" cried Nanette, drawing a dagger and brandishing it at us. "Drop your weapons and give us all you've got or we'll gut you like a couple of fish!" I drew my bow and had an arrow knocked in an instant. There were some things my hands refused to forget how to do.
"Now, now ladies. No need to be hostile," Valindor said, attempting to soothe our potential foes. They only scoffed and charged at us, which left Valindor scrambling for his own bow, dropping an arrow as his hands shook with nerves.
"Dammit, Val. You're a Bosmer! Draw the arrow!" I commanded, shooting one of the women, Nanette I think it was. She fell in a crumpled heap near one of the bedrolls. The other rushed the Bosmer, swinging her mace towards him. He stepped back in time enough for the blow intended for his head to scrape shrilly across the mail shirt. Meeko rounded on the attacker, pulling her to the ground and shaking her sword arm violently. "Shoot her!"
At last, the second assailant fell to the ground in a pool of her own blood. Valindor's arrow protruded from her back as if in exclamation. The owner of the arrow in question stood shaking so violently, he dropped his bow to the ground, then, in an attempt to recover it, spent several minutes just trying to grasp the thing. I leaned over and handed his weapon back to him, closing my hands around his. He looked at me with haunted eyes.
"Is she... Is she...dead?" he asked, glancing at the body as if she would stand up and wander around.
"Yes, Val, she's dead. Was that your first time shooting someone?"
"Y-yes. I mean--of course I've hunted but... Never a person." I fought the urge to hug him very tightly. Those haunted, staring eyes turned to mine. "How do you do it? How can you do that? I feel like a monster!" Collapsing to his knees he bit his knuckles, chewing them to shreds with his sharp teeth. Gently, I pulled him towards the fire, sitting next to him, heedless of the wet ground. With an arm around his shoulders, I sat silent for a few minutes.
"I never gets easier," I said at last with a heavy sigh. "But you can't dwell on your actions forever. You didn't have any choice. They would have killed us had we not reacted first." Though as the words left my mouth, I didn't truly believe them. With a tug, I pulled the mer to his feet, steadying him. he was still trembling.
"We always have a choice," muttered Valindor so softly it as almost a whisper.
"Come on. Let's keep moving. I don't want to sleep here." I mounted Brelye and continued onward.
Evening crept across the road as we slowly plodded uphill towards the junction that normally led to Helgen. The memory of that name sent a chill crawling down my spine. They were going to execute us there. Of course, the prisoners and I had escaped, those that survived anyway, and I never did see the interior of that fabled killing field. Along the road were bootprints and wagon tracks, all fairly recent. Here and there lay empty bottles of mead and other debris. In several places lay fetid mounds that oozed noxious fluids slowly pooling in the mud.
When we crested the hill and the fortified walls of Helgen game into view, we found the south gate yawning openly to the forest. As I gazed uneasily at the charred and mutilated heads strung along the gutters on tall pikes, I knew exactly who had been travelling en masse to the town.
Comments
Really liked that line in particular but enjoyed everything else nearly as much too!