To Drink and Fight (Skyrim)

“Hail there traveler!”

Instantly, one hand went to the axe on my hip and the other to the hood on my cloak, pulling it back as I whirled around toward the voice. I was only on guard for a second though, as I realized it was a man in a cart waving to me from up the road. I stood to the side of the road as he pulled closer, two large black steeds whinnying as he pulled on their reins to stop. The man came to a halt just right so that he was in front of me, looking down with a natural smile. He appeared to be a Nord, with long blond hair swept back and tied in a knot. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week as well. He wore simple clothes, a plain brown with a bit of fur for warmth. The two people in the back of his cart, on the other hand, wore armor with weapons on their hips. I eyed them for a moment. A pair of suspicious eyes from the bald one focused on me. The other seemed to be trying to take a nap with his steel helmet on or was pointedly ignoring me. They looked tough, a Nord kind of tough. The man driving the cart brought my attention back to him by clearing his throat.

“Traveling by yourself miss? You know the roads in Skyrim aren’t safe enough for lone travelers, especially a fair lass like yourself.” I shrugged, looking away from the driver and down the road we both came in on.

“Eh," I responded indifferently, "The roads to Skyrim haven’t been that safe either. I’ve handled it so far.” The driver hesitated, as if not sure how to respond. After a moment, he simply said,

“I’m sure you're quite capable then? Even so, one person isn’t such a good matchup against a group of bandits eh? Tell you what, we’re near to the border. Hows about I give you a ride? Where are you headed?”

My eyes narrowed. “Why? Do you want something?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “What? No, just can’t stand the thought of someone’s first time in Skyrim being robbed, that’s all.” I looked him up and down a moment, trying to find any hint he was up to something. Then I shrugged and gave him my answer.

“I’m looking for a city. Somewhere with enough pretentious know it alls that they’ll buy some dwemer junk for unreasonable prices. Know of a place like that?”

“Sounds like your bound for Markarth,” he answered with a chuckle, relaxing a bit. “Luckily, I’ll be headed that way myself. I’ll be glad to be of help. Climb in back, don’t mind the crates. Nothing in them you could break easily.” With my own smile, I walked around to the back of the cart, noting the look his other two passengers were giving me.

“Say,” I began as I got settled, sitting as close to the driver as I could. “Does this cart have anything to drink?” The bald man’s eyebrows raised, but it was the cart driver who spoke.

“I have a bottle of mead here I wouldn’t mind sharing if you don’t mind a chat.” He gave me a sideways grin as he flicked the reins and the horses started forward. The wheels on the cart let out a squeak in protest to the motion. “Road gets awfully quiet, and those two in the back aren’t worth much for chit chat.”

“I can see that,” I responded, casting a look at the two. The bald one finally stopped staring at me with a shake of his head and something muttered under his breath. I heard a cork pop lightly behind me, and I turned to see the driver holding out an orange bottle.

“Let’s start with names then. Mine’s Waalf Palejorn, born right here in Skyrim. I take it your from Hammerfell?” I accepted the bottle and took a heavy sip as he spoke. It had a much stronger honey taste to it than most mead, but I nearly coughed when tasting it. I had forgotten how strong the Nord’s make their mead! Good stuff!

“Talik Asavid,” I answered happily, already feeling better from just a taste. I passed it back to him. “And no, was just visiting Hammerfell. Seeing the sights, if it had any good work. Not for me.”

“I was going to say, you don’t look like any Redguard I’ve ever seen,” Waalf stated. He paused and took another sip before passing the bottle back to me. “Where exactly does one get, ah, that sort of look from?”

“It’s a local tradition,” I answer vaguely. The line was well practiced at this point, as most people seem caught off guard by the Redguard with snow-white hair and white war paint. Well, the Nords may not question the war paint as much. I was wearing my white cloak too. I didn’t get much use out of it in Hammerfell, was honestly too scared I’d get a bunch of dirt on it. But it was my best cloak, which was absolutely necessary for going into Skyrim. Leaning back against the edge of the cart I raised the bottle up again and took a longer sip than before. We were moving further into the mountains, with the dense snow-covered pines giving way to icy rocks as the pass began to narrow in around us.

“So what brings you out to Skyrim anyway?” I passed the bottle back to him.

“Looking for some work. Might join The Companions. Not really sure yet. Did a lot of the same in Hammerfell, nothing good came out of it.”

“No luck in the Fighter’s Guild?”

“Not really,” I mused, looking up at the passing rocks above us. The sky was solid white. A thick blanket of clouds lit up brightly over us, almost like it was going to snow soon. “Too many rules and a lot of the contracts were boring. Not to mention almost everyone there is an arrogant lizard lover.”

“Hey,” the bald man suddenly stated, looking over at me. “I got my start in the Fighter’s Guild in Riften when I was just a boy, there were a lot of good people there.” I snorted and took a swig of the bottle before handing the last sip to Waalf.

“I’m sure,” I said after a moment. “Which is why there practically isn’t a Fighter’s Guild left in Skyrim anymore.”

“So you’re pretty knowledgeable about Skyrim then?” Waalf asked, not so subtly changing the subject. I looked at the bald man staring daggers at me before I shrugged and looked upwards again.

“I had visited a few times when I was real young. My first time was back when there was a Fighter’s Guild near Solitude. After that, I think I only ever saw The Companions around. Only took a bit of asking around the Hammerfell guilds to find out they’re nearly dead here in Skyrim.”

“You’re more familiar with the province than I suspected,” Waalf stated, impressed.

“Yeah,” the other guard in the wagon said. He turned to look at me, taking his helmet off to look me over. He had a sour expression, and a face covered in minor scars. He was also the largest Nord in the cart, with a mace on his hip. “Where did you say you were from again?” I stared at him a moment, trying to assess the narrow-eyed look he was giving me.

“Me?” I pondered curiously. “I was born at sea. Somewhere around Highrock, I hear. This would be my first time going beyond the coast of Skyrim.”

“Born at sea?” the large Nord asked, his look narrowing some more. “Merchant family? Or something else?” I paused and stared at him, my lips curling into the thinnest, fakest grin I could manage.

“Why don’t you slow down with the questions there, friend.”

“Yes I think that’s quite enough Yorn,” Waalf said, sounding tired. “Talik here is a guest in the wagon. It’s not the fanciest wagon, but we’re sharing it.” The man, Yorn, looked at me for a second and then shook his head, grumbling under his breath. With a heavy sigh, I rolled my head to look at Waalf. Ahead of us, I could see the beginning of some sort structure spanning across the gap in the mountain pass.

“Are you headed directly to Markarth?” I asked. Waalf hesitated to answer.

“Well, no. I’ve got to drop off this shipment of iron to Falkreath and pick up another wagon load to take to Markarth. But its no problem, Falkreath isn’t far after the border crossing ahead. And the distance to Markarth is one of the shortest between two hold capitals in the province. I’ll probably be in Markarth in two days time, maybe three if the weather gets bad. But you’re welcome to ride with me the whole way. Or if you want, you can hop off at Falkreath.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I sighed. “But I think it would be best if I headed towards Markarth right away. There are probably a few mountain paths I can take to get there in just a day.”

“Ah, well probably,” Waalf admitted. “But even a heavily experienced fighter ain’t much against a whole group of bandits. It always safer to travel in groups.”

“It should be fine if I stay off the main roads. Do you know the area very well?”

“I could give a few pointers, I suppose. If your set on leaving best do it informed.” He sounded disappointed, but he answered my questions anyway. The gatehouse overlooking the board crossing was unmanned, so we continued to talk as finally crossed into Skyrim. An hour past and after another comment from Bald the Mentally Lame I decided to move up to a seat next to Waalf. Something he seemed to appreciate, as well as the two in the back as they began to murmur quietly between themselves. He continued to answer my questions about The Reach as the mountain pass began to shrink around us. We passed very few travelers along the path, maybe one other cart headed the opposite direction as us. A few hours past before we were full out of the mountains and I finally stood up, stretching widely as I worked the stiffness out of my joints from sitting so long. The sun was still up, but it had begun its descent by now. Giving probably only a few hours of traveling to go.

“Leaving already?” Waalf asked, yawning immediately after. “You know, someone of your skills, I could hire you as another guard till we get to Markarth. It be worth it to have someone around who actually likes to talk. Makes the day go by easier.”

“I don't think so, I don’t have the patience for this kind of travel.” I looked around at the forest around us, still standing up on the wagon even as it rocked across the uneven stones on the road. “It was nice to rest my feet again, but I’d like to get moving. Here’s for the mead.” I reached into my belt and handed him two septims. Then I jumped off the cart, grinning widely at Waalf. The impact on the hard ground was jarring to my stiff legs, but I managed to take it without my knees buckling. Waalf let out a laugh as his guards stared at me like I was deranged.

“Take care Miss Talik,” Waalf called out to me as his wagon continued to rumble on down the road. “Wolves and bandits aren’t the only danger when traveling Skyrim. Especially in the Reach!”

“Will do,” I stated, likely not loud enough to be heard as I gave him a mock salute. I watched him continue on down the road for a bit before he disappeared over a hill. Then I started walking again, feeling my tired thighs protesting the motion after such a long rest. I walked off the road, stepping into snow just off the road. It had a nice crunch to it and I smiled. It was a nice change to Hammerfell, and the air felt more crisp at this altitude. I took a deep breath as I started north, not following any trail yet. It had been a long time. In one sense, it was all so familiar. The snow, the pine trees, the cold air that sears the inside of your nose. On the other hand, it was far away from the fridged coast I was familiar with.

“All the better, I suppose,” I murmured to myself. “The north wasn’t that fun.” Pulling on the string of my cloak, I shrugged it off and bundled it up in my arms. Fine for road travel, too easy to get dirty out here in the forest. Without stopping, I pulled off the heavy pack previously concealed by my cloak. Stuffing the cloak in, I pulled my water skin out for a quick drink. Finally, I untied my bow from the base of the bag before putting it back on my shoulders again. The bow was a really simple curved bow I bought back in Sentinal. A hunter’s bow, so I was told. Good enough, it had lasted me this long. I started to hum as I walked through the mountainous forest, listening to the snow and cold-weather birds above. With the mountains to my left and headed north, it shouldn’t be too long before I find a mountain path or a stream that leads to Markarth. Or at least some other village in the hold. After a few hours of walking, I noticed the light filtering through the trees was starting to turn orange. With a sigh, I slowed down and looked around me. No luck with any paths, time to start thinking of setting camp before I’m out of daylight. It was when I started toward some fallen log that I noticed tracks in the snow.

“Oh, dinner, is that you?” I murmured to myself, as I crouched down. A steel arrow ready in one hand, I started following the tracks. A dedicated hunter could probably tell how recent they were from the depth, what the weather has been like, and whatever other factors hunters look for. I, on the other hand, was just a woman with a bow. Hoping that I would get lucky. Just as I was debating with myself how much time I should spend following the tracks, I heard my target grunting. A satisfied smiled spread across my face. It only took ten minutes of my time.

Slowly, cursing the crunchy snow under my feet, I moved from tree to tree, following the noise till I could see it. A large brown bear slamming its weight on top of a fallen log, making it rock a little bit each tip. Carefully, I drew the arrow back in the bow and took aim. The bear stopped pounding on the log. My heart skipped a beat, bowstring still drawn. But the bear knelt down and nosed the base of the log, sniffing at something underneath it before trying to dig with its claws. I held my breath and then let the arrow go. When it came to archery, I can say my form is near perfect. The arrow flew perfectly, unerring from its path the moment it left my bow. Only, I couldn’t say the same for my aim, as the arrow buried itself two handspans from the bear’s head and into the log. It took a step back, seemed to pause, and then whirl around towards me faster than an animal of that size had any right to do. Standing on its hind legs, it raised it paws in the air and let out a loud gravelly scream.

“High elf’s daughter!” I cursed angerly. Jumping out of a crouch, I grabbed the axes on my hips. Steel, forged in a village a few day’s walks from Sentinal, with a utilitarian design for camping as well as fighting. And with one in each hand, I took a step towards the bear. It dropped to all fours and roared at me again. “Come on bear! By Ysmir I’ll turn you into a blanket!” I ran at the animal, both axes raised above my head. It charged forward, kicking up snow as it ran. It was good to be back in Skyrim.

***

The sun was almost down now, and I had a decent-sized campfire slowly roasting some bear steaks. Next to the tiny metal grate the meat was cooking on was a small cooking pot, small enough to fit inside my bag without being too cumbersome. It was filled with snow, slowly melting. With all that done, I sat down inside my tent. Warmed by the fire, my legs worn out by yet another day’s travel, I began taking off my armor. A pair of iron gauntlets came off my forearms, the left one now scratched from an angry bear claw. I pulled off my heavy leather boots, letting my toes feel free again. Some more iron off my shins next. And after that just some leather until I was down to the fur clothing I wore underneath. Having it all off was freeing, and only left me with one last thing to check.

Fishing a small cloth pouch from my bag and sitting with the last of the sunlight facing me, I held a polished silver disk in front of me. Clean enough I could see my reflection. The white warpaint on my face was still pretty vibrant despite being weeks old now. The paint was meant to last for a few months before needing a new coating. Three white stripes connected at the bridge of my nose, two fanning out across my cheekbones while the center ended at the tip of the nose. Two diamonds shaped stars were painted on each cheek bone. The white hair dye, on the other hand, would last a few more years, I've only redyed it four times in my life. I turned the bear steaks over then stood up and stretched. The sun was nearly down and the wind was beginning to pick up, bringing in a chill. I put another piece of wood on to the fire for good measure. A wide ring of wet ground had been exposed around the fire since I got it going, gathered extra wood, and set up my tent. Now, with a little more time left on my steaks, I figured I could get a little bit of practice in. Raising a hand up, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I focused, pictured an image in my head, the method of achieving it. Then I opened my eyes and murmured to myself and flexing my magika.

“Alrighty, summon sword.” Dark purple energy began pooling around my fingers. It started to take shape, growing longer, more defined, and then- It exploded. Hardened dark purple shards flew out in front of me, piercing into the trees and snow before dissipating into magic vapors that blew away.

“Well, that’s enough practice today,” I stated happily, plopping down in front of my fire and grabbing a fork and wooden bowl. I found my personal bottle of Elinhir Sun brandy. A hot meal, a small drink, and an extra-large fire later, and I was passed out in my tent.

***

When I woke up, the wind was howling, there was snow in my tent, the fire was out, and I was shivering.

“Tiber above,” I swore, jumping up and searching for my boots. Storms came on fast in Skyrim! I thought that was just a coastal thing! With everything accept my cloak, I ran outside and grabbed the bear hide and threw it on. The skin was cold! But at least it was dry, for the most part anyway. Shivering, and moving by barely any light at all, I started packing my gear. The bear hide slowly warming up with me inside. The world around me was a flurry of snow in a dimly pale light. It was probably just before sunrise.

“Coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold,” I murmured, rubbing my hands together. “Okay,” I breathed into my palms and started focusing my magika as best I could. “Now fire!” For a second all I felt was the air directly in front of my hands began to warm. There was a faint orange glow and heat washed up my arms. I smiled, basking in it for a moment.

Then a burst of unrestrained flames erupted out of my palms, lighting up the air twenty feet above me in a bright white flash fire. I yelped and jumped backward.

“Fu-hothothothot!” But the flames were gone faster than they came to life. For a fraction of a second, my former campfire, my tent, and a few nearby trees were all on fire. Then the wind howled even louder and they flickered out, leaving me in the dark again. It was enough though, while far from comfortable I wasn’t freezing. Taking the time to adjust the bear pelt for greater comfort, I started packing up my camp. My accidental flash fire uncovering much of what the snow had buried. Bag repacked, white cloak on underneath the bear pelt, and a quick pull of brandy later, and I started walking. If my family could see me now, they would laugh. The thought made me smile as I marched on north, probably towards Markarth. I hoped.