“We’re back!” Kjersti cried as she entered the hall, snow falling off her cloak to stain the stones as she struggled to bring in the nearly-frozen elk carcass. The warmth from the hearth fire hit her senses head on and she immediately began to sniff, her nose running and her cold cheeks feeling painful as she blundered in. Helvard came after her, carrying another elk over his shoulder with ease while he tried to grip the legs of her kill. He didn’t seem bothered by the cold, his scaled armor stiff against his skin and his cheeks a bit red but other than that he was just as if he walked out into a summer’s day.
It was the only thing Kjersti envied about the Nords. She dropped the elk unceremoniously on the floor which caused the Steward of Falkreath to quickly skitter out of the Jarl’s bedroom, a paper still in her hand as she checked the door. She shivered and stayed at a considerable distance.
“Kjersti! Helvard! Oh…” she looked disappointed for a moment. “Is that all you got? Two elk?”
“No,” she shook her head, snow falling off to wet the floor some more before she nearly scrambled to the hearth, her fingers clenching painfully as she tried to warm them. “There’s a whole cart full, as was instructed. I think we have seven in all?” She looked to the housecarl who only nodded before exiting to go get the others, his elk placed gently by the door near hers. “That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
“I certainly hope so,” Nenya commented, pondering until the Jarl exited his chambers, his winter furs now donning his body making Kjersti stand up and bow. He gave her a look.
“You’re cold?” he snorted and she flushed. “Honestly, you elves. It’s barely even brisk out, grow some skin.”
“Siddgeir,” Nenya warned but as usual he ignored her and strolled into his wine cellar. Kjersti only gave a small laugh before she leaned further into the fire. She had to take her gloves off during the hunt, unable to properly conjure a spell with them on and she regretted it now that the feeling was coming back. She blew on her fingertips as if it would help but it only seemed to make them more painful. Nenya took pity.
“Here,” she strode over, tucking the paper under her arm and took her hands, rubbing her warm ones against them making her sigh. “By the eight, you are cold.”
“That’s the punishment I get for favoring magic, I suppose,” she lightly commented but Nenya shook her head.
“I would favor it as well if I traveled. It’s a comfort to have,” she rubbed a bit harder. “But we are thankful you use it. Weapons alone cannot protect Falkreath, what with more rogue necromancers and witches on the loose.”
Kjersti frowned at her words. “Has there been a report of any again?”
She sighed, rubbing her hands a bit longer before she withdrew and took the paper again, handing it to her. It was a rough decree. Kjersti pursed her lips as she stared at it. She still couldn’t read for the life of her.
“Um.”
“We’re putting out a bounty on the bandits at Embershard Mine since,” Nenya let out a heavy sigh as she said it. “They’re not paying enough...”
“Oh.”
“But there is also a secondary bounty of a supposed witch living in the old Falkreath Tower. I believe it’s near your manor.”
Kjersti fiddled her hands, bringing them near the fire again as she thought of the location. There was one main entrance but who knew how many ‘people’ could hole up in it. She knew she might have to take a trek later that evening to survey it before deciding her best course of action to take on infiltrating it which made her shiver. Her mind drifted to the snow banks she would have to break through and she felt her previous joyful mood fade.
Her Jarl came back out of the cellar with a bottle of mead in hand. “Are you still by the fire? Honestly, do you work at all?!”
“Sorry, my Jarl,” she bowed, forgetting where she was and she nearly tumbled into the fire which made Nenya yell. Siddgeir merely laughed, taking a drink before striding confidently to his throne.
“Sometimes I wonder how I made such an idiot my Thane,” he chuckled and Kjersti flushed again, fidgeting with the neck of her cloak as Nenya straightened her. “Well… You do bring in good coin so I suppose that is a plus.”
Winter Kill [1/?]
It was the only thing Kjersti envied about the Nords. She dropped the elk unceremoniously on the floor which caused the Steward of Falkreath to quickly skitter out of the Jarl’s bedroom, a paper still in her hand as she checked the door. She shivered and stayed at a considerable distance.
“Kjersti! Helvard! Oh…” she looked disappointed for a moment. “Is that all you got? Two elk?”
“No,” she shook her head, snow falling off to wet the floor some more before she nearly scrambled to the hearth, her fingers clenching painfully as she tried to warm them. “There’s a whole cart full, as was instructed. I think we have seven in all?” She looked to the housecarl who only nodded before exiting to go get the others, his elk placed gently by the door near hers. “That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
“I certainly hope so,” Nenya commented, pondering until the Jarl exited his chambers, his winter furs now donning his body making Kjersti stand up and bow. He gave her a look.
“You’re cold?” he snorted and she flushed. “Honestly, you elves. It’s barely even brisk out, grow some skin.”
“Siddgeir,” Nenya warned but as usual he ignored her and strolled into his wine cellar. Kjersti only gave a small laugh before she leaned further into the fire. She had to take her gloves off during the hunt, unable to properly conjure a spell with them on and she regretted it now that the feeling was coming back. She blew on her fingertips as if it would help but it only seemed to make them more painful. Nenya took pity.
“Here,” she strode over, tucking the paper under her arm and took her hands, rubbing her warm ones against them making her sigh. “By the eight, you are cold.”
“That’s the punishment I get for favoring magic, I suppose,” she lightly commented but Nenya shook her head.
“I would favor it as well if I traveled. It’s a comfort to have,” she rubbed a bit harder. “But we are thankful you use it. Weapons alone cannot protect Falkreath, what with more rogue necromancers and witches on the loose.”
Kjersti frowned at her words. “Has there been a report of any again?”
She sighed, rubbing her hands a bit longer before she withdrew and took the paper again, handing it to her. It was a rough decree. Kjersti pursed her lips as she stared at it. She still couldn’t read for the life of her.
“Um.”
“We’re putting out a bounty on the bandits at Embershard Mine since,” Nenya let out a heavy sigh as she said it. “They’re not paying enough...”
“Oh.”
“But there is also a secondary bounty of a supposed witch living in the old Falkreath Tower. I believe it’s near your manor.”
Kjersti fiddled her hands, bringing them near the fire again as she thought of the location. There was one main entrance but who knew how many ‘people’ could hole up in it. She knew she might have to take a trek later that evening to survey it before deciding her best course of action to take on infiltrating it which made her shiver. Her mind drifted to the snow banks she would have to break through and she felt her previous joyful mood fade.
Her Jarl came back out of the cellar with a bottle of mead in hand. “Are you still by the fire? Honestly, do you work at all?!”
“Sorry, my Jarl,” she bowed, forgetting where she was and she nearly tumbled into the fire which made Nenya yell. Siddgeir merely laughed, taking a drink before striding confidently to his throne.
“Sometimes I wonder how I made such an idiot my Thane,” he chuckled and Kjersti flushed again, fidgeting with the neck of her cloak as Nenya straightened her. “Well… You do bring in good coin so I suppose that is a plus.”