She caught a fish outside of Morthal. She yelled out as she did, so proud of herself but there was no one around to congratulate her as she held it by its tail, the body thrashing. She didn’t care. She had caught a fish and she looked at it, hungry, her stomach rumbling when the fish stopped fighting and remained still before her, desperately gasping for water.
She watched it, the triumph in her slowly waning and she found herself staring at the poor thing, how it struggled for life just like she was doing.
She let it go, standing in the creek after it broke away, disappearing into the murky water and she wiped her nose, her robes soaked and her muscles suddenly weary. She was so tired and hungry but killing an innocent thing to sustain her seemed wrong.
She bit her lip and turned, grabbing her gear as she walked away.
--
She had made camp one night on the plains of Whiterun, the small sticks she had foraged fueling the fire and she ate a small handful of berries as she did, watching the flames without a thought in her head. Her eyes were locked on the dancing fire, her own mind slowly tinkering with how she could achieve such fluid movement when a rustling drew her up.
A man was coming towards her and she stood, readying her hands.
“Evening, traveller!” a voice called, friendly and warm and she found herself hesitating. The man came forward, a lute to his back and she stared at him, confused. “Oh, sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. I just saw a light and thought I would check it out! You don’t see many fires near the road.”
She flushed, embarrassed. “I-It was the only place I could find.”
“That’s fine,” he smiled, giving her a warm look. She hesitated but sat down, her relaxed figure allowing him to come forth. “My name is Talsgar the Wanderer. And who, my dear lady, might you be?”
She thought about it for a while. “Just a vagabond,” she came up with. “No one worth stealing from.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I’m no thief, my dear. I’m a bard. See?” he pulled out his lute, sitting down near her and she looked at the instrument shining under the light. He pulled a few strings, playing a little tune and she said nothing making him sigh. “I make my living by going around and spreading music. Why should only the Jarls know the joys of music?” he asked and her heart stung. “Do you have any requests, my lady? A few septims is all it takes!”
“Do you know any songs of heartache?” she said a bit bitterly and he looked at her before laughing. She was taken back by it but didn’t say anything.
“Dear me, my lady, songs of love and heartache are as plenty as there are fish in the sea!” he chuckled and she flushed. “It’s only natural. Humans and emotions are always in a duel. One minute, you couldn’t be happier and the next-! You wish you were dead!”
He laughed again and she gave a small smile, embarrassed again. Of course others felt heartache and forlornness. She wasn’t the first and she wouldn’t be the last. She was just the only one in Skyrim – nay, Tamriel – who didn’t know how to deal with it.
He plucked at the strings of his lute, the sound pleasant and she drew her knees up, resting her chin on them, watching the fire again silent. She remained that way for a while despite her weariness. He remained close, seeming to not be tired at all.
When it was apparent she wasn’t going to request he sighed and tied his lute around his back, giving her a look. She maintained her eye contact with the fire, quiet and he stood up, brushing off his trousers before he reached into his pocket. He came to her side and offered her a flower and she stared at it for a while before taking it, holding it gently in her hands.
“I hope, dear lady, you are not troubled with emotions. I would like to see you smile but I will not impose so I will go. If you catch me again, ask for a tune. I will gladly give it to you.”
She flushed. “Thank you,” she said and he left leaving her alone with her fire again, her thoughts confused before they went blank. She watched the flames, twirling the flower absently between her fingers before she got up and crawled into her bedroll. She slept another restless night.
The Hardest Part [13/?]
She watched it, the triumph in her slowly waning and she found herself staring at the poor thing, how it struggled for life just like she was doing.
She let it go, standing in the creek after it broke away, disappearing into the murky water and she wiped her nose, her robes soaked and her muscles suddenly weary. She was so tired and hungry but killing an innocent thing to sustain her seemed wrong.
She bit her lip and turned, grabbing her gear as she walked away.
--
She had made camp one night on the plains of Whiterun, the small sticks she had foraged fueling the fire and she ate a small handful of berries as she did, watching the flames without a thought in her head. Her eyes were locked on the dancing fire, her own mind slowly tinkering with how she could achieve such fluid movement when a rustling drew her up.
A man was coming towards her and she stood, readying her hands.
“Evening, traveller!” a voice called, friendly and warm and she found herself hesitating. The man came forward, a lute to his back and she stared at him, confused. “Oh, sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. I just saw a light and thought I would check it out! You don’t see many fires near the road.”
She flushed, embarrassed. “I-It was the only place I could find.”
“That’s fine,” he smiled, giving her a warm look. She hesitated but sat down, her relaxed figure allowing him to come forth. “My name is Talsgar the Wanderer. And who, my dear lady, might you be?”
She thought about it for a while. “Just a vagabond,” she came up with. “No one worth stealing from.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I’m no thief, my dear. I’m a bard. See?” he pulled out his lute, sitting down near her and she looked at the instrument shining under the light. He pulled a few strings, playing a little tune and she said nothing making him sigh. “I make my living by going around and spreading music. Why should only the Jarls know the joys of music?” he asked and her heart stung. “Do you have any requests, my lady? A few septims is all it takes!”
“Do you know any songs of heartache?” she said a bit bitterly and he looked at her before laughing. She was taken back by it but didn’t say anything.
“Dear me, my lady, songs of love and heartache are as plenty as there are fish in the sea!” he chuckled and she flushed. “It’s only natural. Humans and emotions are always in a duel. One minute, you couldn’t be happier and the next-! You wish you were dead!”
He laughed again and she gave a small smile, embarrassed again. Of course others felt heartache and forlornness. She wasn’t the first and she wouldn’t be the last. She was just the only one in Skyrim – nay, Tamriel – who didn’t know how to deal with it.
He plucked at the strings of his lute, the sound pleasant and she drew her knees up, resting her chin on them, watching the fire again silent. She remained that way for a while despite her weariness. He remained close, seeming to not be tired at all.
When it was apparent she wasn’t going to request he sighed and tied his lute around his back, giving her a look. She maintained her eye contact with the fire, quiet and he stood up, brushing off his trousers before he reached into his pocket. He came to her side and offered her a flower and she stared at it for a while before taking it, holding it gently in her hands.
“I hope, dear lady, you are not troubled with emotions. I would like to see you smile but I will not impose so I will go. If you catch me again, ask for a tune. I will gladly give it to you.”
She flushed. “Thank you,” she said and he left leaving her alone with her fire again, her thoughts confused before they went blank. She watched the flames, twirling the flower absently between her fingers before she got up and crawled into her bedroll. She slept another restless night.
--