She stood staring up at the statue of Talos before Windhelm, his figure imposing from the rock he stood on, snow sticking to the chiseled grooves. The wind blowing around her was bitter cold but she didn’t draw her cloak near, her mind focused instead on the god. She didn’t understand the fuss over him. He was just a man.
She went around the rock, deciding to go in for a closer look when she saw movement down the road. A stormcloak patrol. She drew her robes around herself, her head down as she slowly walked and they passed by her without an incident.
She climbed the small hill once she was sure they were gone, keeping her balance on the stone bridge and she stood before the statue, the small shrine below it covered in various items. She looked at the bottles of stamina, some covered in frost and others brand new and she pulled her knapsack off her shoulder, digging within it to pull out a bottle to add to the collection when her fingers slipped. The bottle dropped down and she chased after it, falling to an area below the statue when she screamed at the body she had found below.
There was an axe embedded in the back of a Thalmor Agent, his blood caked on the rocks, his eyes glassy, skin starting to sink and she stumbled, horrified before leaving, not bothering with the bottle. She had to get away.
--
She had found a bow made of the finest ebony. Leather that had been perfectly grooved was wrapped around the grip, details carved from pearls and ivory adorning the sides and as she held it, her breath stilled. It was beautiful and she dearly wished she was an archer as the weapon was meant to be used, but she wasn’t, her hands only made for magic and she contemplated on what to do.
For the first time in months, she thought of her Jarl. It stung, the thought but she knew the bow would suit him perfectly. It was decadent and strong, much better than his worn glass bow and she sat before the chest for a while, thinking about what to do. She didn’t want to go back to Falkreath – how could she? Her heart burned thinking about it – and she thought about giving it to a courier to take but she knew how easily the poor boys could die along the way.
She would have to take it herself. She gathered up her coins, checking to see how much she had so it wouldn’t look so atrocious with her walking in to give the Jarl a bow and nothing else and she had enough to possibly stock his coffers again. She didn’t know how the treasury was doing but any amount of coin was probably welcome.
She set off, hooking the weapon to her back despite how it slowed her a bit and she stepped out into the morning sun, shielding her eyes as the bright light stung a bit. She was on the edge of Whiterun and she slowly started to make her way to the road, climbing a bit of a hill before she met the stones.
By the time she made it to Falkreath, it was nearing past midnight, the air cold and the sky dark, clouds obstructing any stars in the sky. She stood before the Longhouse knowing everyone inside was sleeping. Everyone in the town was sleeping in fact, save for maybe Valga in the Inn but she wasn’t in the mood to go there and rent a room. She wanted this over as quick as possible and she decided to leave the bow and coin on the throne; an anonymous gift.
She entered the hall, the fire inside still crackling and it had changed once more since she had last been there. There were two thrones now, the hall decorated with new banners, new trophies and there was furniture in the corners, gifts from afar. She slumped, guilty, staring at the lavish things she never thought to get for her Jarl and she slowly walked to the thrones. His and Hers.
She pulled off the bow, gently laying it across the arm of the one on the left before she pulled off her knapsack, quietly reaching in to put out the small bag of coins. She set it down, the bag making a bit of noise and from the bedroom she heard a sound. It was the sigh of a baby and she froze, looking up.
The Hardest Part [19/?]
She went around the rock, deciding to go in for a closer look when she saw movement down the road. A stormcloak patrol. She drew her robes around herself, her head down as she slowly walked and they passed by her without an incident.
She climbed the small hill once she was sure they were gone, keeping her balance on the stone bridge and she stood before the statue, the small shrine below it covered in various items. She looked at the bottles of stamina, some covered in frost and others brand new and she pulled her knapsack off her shoulder, digging within it to pull out a bottle to add to the collection when her fingers slipped. The bottle dropped down and she chased after it, falling to an area below the statue when she screamed at the body she had found below.
There was an axe embedded in the back of a Thalmor Agent, his blood caked on the rocks, his eyes glassy, skin starting to sink and she stumbled, horrified before leaving, not bothering with the bottle. She had to get away.
--
She had found a bow made of the finest ebony. Leather that had been perfectly grooved was wrapped around the grip, details carved from pearls and ivory adorning the sides and as she held it, her breath stilled. It was beautiful and she dearly wished she was an archer as the weapon was meant to be used, but she wasn’t, her hands only made for magic and she contemplated on what to do.
For the first time in months, she thought of her Jarl. It stung, the thought but she knew the bow would suit him perfectly. It was decadent and strong, much better than his worn glass bow and she sat before the chest for a while, thinking about what to do. She didn’t want to go back to Falkreath – how could she? Her heart burned thinking about it – and she thought about giving it to a courier to take but she knew how easily the poor boys could die along the way.
She would have to take it herself. She gathered up her coins, checking to see how much she had so it wouldn’t look so atrocious with her walking in to give the Jarl a bow and nothing else and she had enough to possibly stock his coffers again. She didn’t know how the treasury was doing but any amount of coin was probably welcome.
She set off, hooking the weapon to her back despite how it slowed her a bit and she stepped out into the morning sun, shielding her eyes as the bright light stung a bit. She was on the edge of Whiterun and she slowly started to make her way to the road, climbing a bit of a hill before she met the stones.
By the time she made it to Falkreath, it was nearing past midnight, the air cold and the sky dark, clouds obstructing any stars in the sky. She stood before the Longhouse knowing everyone inside was sleeping. Everyone in the town was sleeping in fact, save for maybe Valga in the Inn but she wasn’t in the mood to go there and rent a room. She wanted this over as quick as possible and she decided to leave the bow and coin on the throne; an anonymous gift.
She entered the hall, the fire inside still crackling and it had changed once more since she had last been there. There were two thrones now, the hall decorated with new banners, new trophies and there was furniture in the corners, gifts from afar. She slumped, guilty, staring at the lavish things she never thought to get for her Jarl and she slowly walked to the thrones. His and Hers.
She pulled off the bow, gently laying it across the arm of the one on the left before she pulled off her knapsack, quietly reaching in to put out the small bag of coins. She set it down, the bag making a bit of noise and from the bedroom she heard a sound. It was the sigh of a baby and she froze, looking up.