Sevria's dreams that night were surprisingly peaceful, reminding her of happier days... specifically the days when the Silvenar still existed. Though by day she would look upon these memories with sadness, as now she was all but alone, there was the strangest sense of relief in them as well. Life had been simple once. Life had been easy. Even beautiful, like a Valenwood sunset over the lush green horizon of the trees. Perhaps those days would come... at the very least there was beauty to be found in this new land and its rugged mountains. At length Sevria woke up from her rest, gathered her belongings and set off on the dirt road ahead. At a fork in the path, there could be seen a sign post telling which way led to which major city.
"Whiterun... Marudil mentioned that place on the way here."
And so it was decided that Sevria would wander to this city, where she might perhaps find more favorable company. The way seemed capable enough on her map; though the walk would surely take the entirety of the day to accomplish, it was at least semi-familiar territory. So off she went on the lush woodland path, keeping a wary eye open for all manner of forest predators -- after all, one could hardly set foot in Valenwood without crossing the path of a large cat or other such animal, why should Skyrim be any different?
And sure enough, after an hour of walking, Sevria's keen sense of smell identified the musk of a bear. She instinctively hid beneath the tall grass, following the bear's trail. Focusing solely on its scent, Sevria cautiously advanced... she could now vaguely hear the mighty beast's roar in the distance -- it had found something, or someone. She rushed quickly and quietly toward the sound of the bear, and beheld the sight: it had indeed found a man, a fellow traveler by the look of him. And though he was fighting the creature as best he could, it was clear he was in grave danger. And if she didn't act fast, the traveler would surely die!
Angrily, the bear knocked the man to the ground and reared its claws back... only to suddenly become disoriented as Sevria leaped upon its head, plunged one dagger into the side of its skull, and sank the other into its throat as she flipped back to the ground. The bear plummeted dead to the ground, and Sevria approached the traveling man and extended her hand to him.
"Can you stand?" She asked.
"Aye..." The man said as he took her hand and stood back up. "I thought that thing was going to finish me for sure. Thank you. What is your name?"
"I am Sevria. Who are you?"
"I am Talsgar, the wandering minstrel. It is a delight to meet you, Sevria."
"Likewise... where are you headed, if I might ask?"
"I'm on my way to Whiterun. I hear they have good stock -- it is Skyrim's most prominent trade settlement, after all."
"Is that so? I was just on my way there myself."
"Really? Then perhaps, we might accompany one another on the way? Don't want to risk running into another bear on the road -- well, I wouldn't want to anyway. Don't think it'd be much of a problem for you, hah."
"No, it would not." She said lightheartedly, "But I would be happy to join with you for now."
"Onward, then."
And so after skinning the bear's pelt and gathering its meat for later use, the two set off on their merry way toward Whiterun Hold.
"So, what brings you to Skyrim?" Talsgar asked.
"Partly curiosity... partly necessity." Sevria responded, "My living conditions in Valenwood were.... compromised. It's a long and bloody story..."
"Some of the most legendary tales are just that: tragedies."
"Does the white man of Skyrim cherish such stories?"
"Aye. Anyone in Skyrim will tell you that we have a long history as warrior poets, living grand lives of conquest and immortalizing them in song and legend. Granted, though... I tend to lean more toward the poetic side of things, as opposed to being a mighty warrior."
"Why do you love them so?"
"Well, who doesn't love a good tale of adventure being told over a mug of cold mead? It calls us back to our proud heritage, in the northern land of Atmora."
"Atmora? What land is that?"
"Surely even in the wilds of Valenwood, you have heard tell of the motherland?"
"No... in truth your entire province is alien to me. The first time I set foot in Skyrim, down in Falkreath, I was surprised by how strange and unique your settlements were. Houses... built of stone, and wood? Weapons and armor, built from iron and steel? I'd heard tell of such things being traded among the many provinces of Tamriel, but had never once seen them for myself; my people, the Silvenar, did their best to avoid direct contact with 'civilized' society. In fact, the closest I'd ever known were the elven weapons that my people had gathered from our enemies, the Aldmeri Dominion. But even those were not so close to home as your craftsmanship..."
"Indeed. We do rely a great deal on the land around us to make our living... whether it be housing, smithing, farming, or whatever else we need. Fortunately we have been blessed with a rich and prosperous land to call our own."
"Are all of Skyrim's settlements like Falkreath? Sheltered in the wilderness and built of the land?"
"Some... not all. Solitude, for example, couldn't be any more different than Falkreath; it is a large and industrial city, much akin to the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. Surely you have seen the Imperial City?"
"From the outside, yes... but from a distance. The carriage ride from Valenwood to Skyrim was long and tiring... I suspect I must have fallen asleep as the driver passed it by."
"A pity. What I wouldn't give for but a glimpse of that wondrous place..."
"You seem a decent man, Talsgar. I'm glad to have met you... I'll admit my visit to Skyrim has not been without its burdens."
"Such as?"
"You would listen to the woes of a stranger?"
"A stranger who was kind enough to save my life and tell me her name? Absolutely."
"Thank you... it was a man in Falkreath, setting massive trees into a tall, jagged blade to split them apart on the ground below."
"Ah, you mean a mill worker?"
"Is that what you call them? 'Mill workers'?"
"Well... yes. They work at the lumber mill, so we call them mill workers."
"Ah... well, as I was meaning to say, this strange man took a single glance at me and berated me -- just for making my pilgrimage to Skyrim. Even accused me of working for the Aldmeri Dominion because of my Bosmeri heritage. I have done him no wrong! Why would he accuse me of such things?"
"I see... well, that is one of the more unfortunate things about life in Skyrim; most of us Nords are happy to welcome outsiders to our mighty province, but there are those who insist that this is our land and ours alone -- to them, anyone who isn't a Nord is an outsider."
"What of the white man who is born outside of Skyrim?"
"It does not matter to them where you were born. Let me tell you, for example, of one man I met in Markarth: a gentleman named Markus Blackwell. He was an intriguing fellow, to say the least, who said he was born in Cyrodiil to an Imperial mother and a Nord father. Because he took after his father's side of the family, the Nords welcomed him with open arms and proclaimed him to be a 'true son of Skyrim'."
"Well that doesn't make any sense at all."
"No, it doesn't. But what do you expect from those who'd accuse you of hunting down Talos worshipers just because you're an elf?"
"Talos? He is worshiped as a god?"
"Yes -- well, he was once. It's a long and complicated story filled with politics and war... not sure if you'd care much to hear the whole thing."
"I've seen enough war and bloodshed to last me an eternity... I long for a chance to start a more peaceful life in your homeland."
"Well you've come at an... interesting time, then."
"Why so?"
"To put it simply, we're in the middle of a war between the Empire of Cyrodiil and the Stormcloak rebellion, all thanks to the Aldmeri Dominion's ban on Talos worship after joining forces with the Empire."
"The Dominion has joined with the Empire? I thought they would be more interested in--"
"Destroying it? Oh, they're making plans for that. You ask me, that was the point of outlawing Talos worship: to spark this whole war and send the province into chaos."
"Y'ffre preserve us... what was I thinking, coming here?" Sevria sat down on a rock and put her head in her hands.
"Fear not, my friend -- you've made a wise choice, heading to Whiterun. It is neutral territory, free from the chaos of the Stormcloak uprising. You can find sanctuary there."
"Good -- I need peace of mind above all other things this day." She said, getting back up.
As Sevria and Talsgar carried onward, the clouds above them began to darken. Thunder boomed loudly in the sky, and heavy rain poured down into the wilds and plunged the air into a much colder temperature. Talsgar pointed out a cave just a few feet from them, and though neither of them had any idea what they would find inside, they agreed that any shelter would be more favorable than freezing in the ice-cold rain. So they hurried inside, soaking wet and dripping.
"Can we set a f-fire here?" Sevria asked between chattering teeth.
"W- we can try." Talsgar responded, "We should also s-seek out a change of c-clothes before we c-catch hypothermia... this p-place looks like it was once used as a c-c-camping ground of s-some kind."
"We may find s-supplies here, then...?"
"Aye... y-you look, I'll t-try starting a fire."
Sevria nodded shakily, rubbing her arms in a vain attempt to warm herself up. Scattered across the ground were definite signs that this place had indeed been in recent use; empty bottles of mead were strewn about, among iron swords and open books. But no signs of any spare clothes... and this was the last observation that crossed Sevria's mind before losing consciousness.
*****
When she came to, roughly 3 hours after being knocked out, Sevria found herself and Talsgar at the mercy of three bandits; two of them Orcs, one bigger than the other, and the third a Nord. Both Sevria and Talsgar had been stripped bare, with their wrists and ankles bound by tied ropes.
"So? What'd they have on them?" The bigger Orc asked the other.
"Not a damn thing." The other responded with frustration, "At least, nothing worth a horker's droppings. Only things worth mentioning are the bard's instruments; things'll go for a pretty price on the black market."
Talsgar moaned in pain.
"What? They're still alive?" The bigger Orc said to the Nord, "You idiot! Why didn't you just kill them?"
"Why do you think?" The Nord responded, "Have you seen that elf girl? And think of the money we could make from holding them hostage!"
"Well now... that's something to think about. But that does beg the question..." The bigger Orc struck the Nord down. "Why didn't you kill the bard and leave the elf?! We don't play fair, we're bandits you imbecile! What, do you expect us to give them back once we get paid?!"
"Woah, woah, woah, calm down now." The smaller Orc said, "We do have ourselves a rare opportunity here. You don't seriously wish he'd killed them both like you told him to, do you?"
"Well..... no. In fact I don't. I guess I should thank him for that."
"Now what say we get a piece of--" The smaller Orc looked back at where Sevria lay bound... only to find her gone. "What the -- where'd she go?!"
The bigger Orc drew out his warhammer. "Spread out! Find the wood elf!"
At the Orc's command, the other two bandits drew out their weapons and searched for any sign of Sevria in the cave.
"Find anything, Brunjil?" The smaller Orc asked aloud to the Nord bandit... but no answer followed. "Brunjil? You find her yet?" Still no answer...
"Damn it! Where is he?!" The bigger Orc said.
A small droplet splashed upon the bigger Orc's head. Looking up, he beheld the sight of Brunjil's mutilated body bound above his head with leather strips. No sooner had he seen the body, when his Orc companion had also disappeared.
"Where are you...?!" The Orc called out at the surrounding shadows, "Where are you?!"
Then came the sound of a loud and intimidating call -- a Bosmeri war cry, akin to the primal roar of an animal -- and Sevria pounced upon the bandit, sending them both into darkness. She tore viciously into the bandit's head and ripped it from his mighty shoulders, before finally calming herself and rising to her feet. She approached Talsgar and cut him free, handing him a spare set of clothes.
"Here." She said, "I found this in the white man's backpack."
"Thank... you..." He muttered, trying and failing to sit up.
"Shh, shh... easy. You've been hurt. Lay still and recover while the rain falls outside." She pulled a traveling bed over his bruised body.
"It's still raining...?"
"Yes. Can you hear its soothing song?"
"I can hear it..."
"Good... now rest, and let it ease your pain until it is no more." Sevria began to re-dress herself with one of the bandits' fur armors.
"Wait... how did you... how did you break free? How did you kill them?"
"An ancient power locked away in the blood of all Bosmer... a power I hope never to rely upon again."
"Whatever you say... 'least we're alive now, eh?"
"Yes..." Sevria said peacefully as she watched the rainfall from the cavern entrance, "For that, we must definitely be grateful."
Once the rain had ceased and the two had recovered from their injuries, they gathered whatever supplies they could find in the bandit camp and set off on the road to Whiterun. And sure enough, in an hour's time they soon found themselves standing before the entrance to the city itself.
"It is beautiful..." Sevria said in awe.
"You're impressed right now? Wait'll you see the inside." Talsgar responded, stepping forward and opening the city gates...
