Teren and the Sons of Whiterun Ch. 1

• Posted by MadHatter March 5, 2015 - 1,153 views

  Chapter 1 : Riverwood

  Part 1: Riverwood, a quaint and often quiet little village set between New Helgen and the magestic walls of Whiterun. The village itself is centered around a massive saw mill that straddles a small river that runs from Lake Ilnalta to the outer walls of Whiterun. Less known but of some local pride is the fact that the legendary Dragonborn himself was raised from the very heart of the small village at a time that the people of Skyrim have come to know as the Age of Wyrms but that is not what this story is about. That story came to an end 15 years ago in 4E 202. This is a different story, a story that comes about in a time when Skyrim, the Empire and the entirety of Tamriel itself is undergoing a period of change and a hope for healing.

  Riverwood has always been for the most part self-suffiecient. Many of it's residents, young and old worked hard at the saw-mill, sweat beaded on their brow and their bodies ached from long hours and even longer days at work for little to no income but that hardly broke their spirits or their hearts. Teren Highwood, a young Breton toiled away at this very saw-mill under the supervision of the shift master and his adoptive father, an older Wood-Elf by the name of Faendal.

  “Teren! I'm still waiting on that firewood, boy! The village and the surrounding towns depend on us for warmth in the cold nights, we're a week out for delivery and only half of the quota has been met!” the Elf yelled at the blonde haired lumberjack, barely a man at the age of 18 as he wiped a handful of sweaty hair from his face and fixed his eyes on a stunning young woman, Dorthe, the blacksmith's daughter. “Teren!” yelled the Elf again to no avail as Teren continued to stare at Dorthe. She looked up from her work at the anvil and saw Teren staring at her and offered a playful grin in response and Teren would have done the same if not for the stiff smack of an old Elf's hand that struck across the boy's head without mercy and much to the humor of the other mill workers. It took everything in her power for Dorthe to suppress a fit of laughter at Teren's expense.

  “Boy! I'm talking to you! Quite your daydreaming and pay attention!” said the Elf as he grabbed hold of Teren's left earlobe which was adorned with small silver earrings, not caring if he would rip them out or not. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Let go of me, Faendal! That hurts!” cried the boy as he grabbed hold of the overly strong elf's wrist in a vain attempt to lessen the pain before being unceremoniously tossed into the dirt. “I set you on one of the most simple tasks and you cannot seem to get it done. Quit dreaming about these girls, boy. It always leads to heartache. I know that from experience. Gods above.. If only your mother could see you now.” Faendal said as he stared down at the now dirt covered boy who offered a silent glare in response before his childhood friend, Frodnar came to pick him up off his feet. “Your mother served the Legion with pride, boy. She served side by side with the damned Dragonborn, gave the ultimate sacrifice for everything the Empire stands for and here you are daydreaming and pinning over girls instead of putting your soul into something meaningful. Gods, boy... Do something!” the elf continued on but Teren who was used to the Elf's tirades simply bowed his head and remained quiet, accepting his tongue lashing until of course, Frodnar stepped in and being the owners' son, Faendal had no choice but to allow the young man to interrupt. “Right, Faendal. I'm sure Teren understands your lesson for today but the Sun is setting and the day is coming to an end! It's time for everyone to retire for the day and return to work tomorrow, right?” The Elf offered a grunt and a dismissive wave as he turned away “Bah! Take him and begone. Boy wont ever amount to anything. Wont ever be anything like his mother!” The two young men watched the Elf storm away, back towards his old hut at the edge of town where he would undoubtedly go through the ritual of preparing himself for the morning hunt which Teren used to enjoy going on with him. “Faendal has grown bitter as of late” said Frodnar to Teren. “Old age tends to do that to those of us that remain stuck forever in the same rut. Come Teren, let's go drink!” and the two young men strode towards the Sleeping Giant Inn with a new purpose in mind.

  Part 2: The young men spent their wages at the Sleeping Giant Inn, an old and beat up establishment which didnt see much business apart from the locals. Teren and Frodnar sat in the corner of the main hall, Frodnar boasting tales of his encounter with the Dragonborn as Teren slid his mug of cheap nord ale from hand to hand. “Hey, Teren are you listening to me?” Frodnar suddenly said as he roughly put a hand on Teren's shoulder. “Why, Frodnar?” Teren asked his best friend. “Why is it that everyone wants to compare me to my mother?” Frodnar stared at his friend, drunken green eyes staring at him with something that borderlined between anger and curiosity, searching for an answer in hopes that his friend had one. “Well... Uhh... Teren, your mother was kind of a big deal. I know you dont remember much of her but she was something of a local hero around here before she left for the Legion. Becoming Legate and serving next to Hadvar Iron-Tongue, the Dragonborn only added to her fame. So, people kinda have high hopes that you too would become a hero. I think Faendal takes it personally when he was the one responsible for raising you.” Frodnar said with a little bit of uneasiness. He knew that the subject of Teren's mother was a bit of a sore one when it came to Teren himself.

  Teren set his mug down with something of a sour smirk on his face. “Yeah, I suppose you're right. Folks see me and all they see is a poor reflection of a legend.” his fists clenched around the handle of his mug, so hard that his knuckles turned white under the strain. “It's not that, Teren. It's just..” Teren held up a hand to cut off his friend before continuing “Save it, Frodnar. I know, you know, everyone knows that I'm just a failure. Maybe it's time I proved to everyone that I'm not a failure. Maybe it's time that I do something with myself and become somebody.... I just don't know how.” Teren looked at Frodnar, searching for an answer in his friend's eyes. “There's always the Legion.” said Frodnar in response. “Too obvious. That's what people would expect and I'd continue to do nothing but fall in my mother's shadow. I need something else.” Teren scratched the rough stubble on his face, thinking about the possible paths he could take. He could try to join the Companions of Whiterun but that too would seem like he was chasing after his mother, seeing as Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbringer of the Companions aided his mother in several endeavors. Perhaps maybe.... “How about the Whiterun Guard?” Teren slammed his mug down and looked at his friend with a renewed purpose. “The Whiterun Guard! Yes! That would work! Oh but to think of such a thing. Not the most glorious but I could rise in rank, perhaps one day become Captain of the Guard!” Frodnar stared at Teren and his sudden outburst of enthusiasm. “The Whiterun Guard? Are you serious? You know they're harder on new recruits than the Legion even is, right?” Teren grinned at Frodnar's reaction. “I'm fine with that. I'm leaving for Whiterun tomorrow.”

  “So soon?” asked Frodnar

  “Yeah, and you're coming with me.” replied Teren, his grin growing ever wider as the conversation continued.

  “Me? I have to learn how to run the Mill, how can I just up and leave?”

  “Come on, Frodnar. You're a Nord. Would you really be happy living a life of numbers and documents? Wouldnt you rather hold a sword in hand and enfore the peace with the hopes of dying a glorious and worthy death in the protection of the innocent?” replied Teren with a sharp poke at Frodnar's sense of honor.

  “I suppose you have a...”

  “It's settled then! Get some rest, friend... We leave for Whiterun in the morning. You let your parents know. I'm going to discuss my future with the old Elf.” with that being said, Teren gave Frodnar a drunken hug before stumbling out of the inn and into the night.