6th Frostfall
I didn’t really know what to say to Rumarin about the bracelet. It’s lovely, and I keep playing with it, so I suppose he must know I like it. In any case, we picked up Lydia in Windhelm, and took the carriage to Falkreath. I don’t know why, but I felt like exploring the area. No Arissa at the inn. The local blacksmith asked if I had seen a dog on the road, one that looked like mine, he said. I said I’d have a look, but we left town through the other gate, no sign of any dogs out there.
It was very strange, retracing my steps of that first day in Skyrim. The bandits with that blasted bridge dropped rocks on us again, not the most effective trap, although I imagine it works better if your quarry is mounted. In any case, the three of us were able to dodge the rocks and took the bandits out easily. I’ve read back over my first few entries this evening, I’d forgotten just how terrified I was. Not that I really admitted it, even to myself, but as I read, it all came flooding back to me. I was rather scathing about the Nords, too. Not that some of them don’t deserve it, of course, but Lydia has been very good to me, and so have many of her countrymen.
We stopped to have our lunch by the little overhang where those bandits snuck up on me – they were long gone, of course, along with their belongings. Afterwards, we climbed up to the ‘fort full of bandits’ that I nearly ran in to when fleeing the archers. It was actually one of the walls of Helgen. Although I suppose it still wouldn’t have been much of a sanctuary on that particular day. Evidently the Imperials didn’t bother to secure the place after the Dragon left, as it was, by now, filled with bandits. They didn’t offer much of a challenge for the three of us, and Vigilance, of course. He’s such a sweet thing, when he’s not sinking his jaws into somebody’s leg, at least. Actually, I think that’s probably when I love him best.
The leader of the bandits had a set of Dwarven armour, Lydia was rather taken with it, but it wouldn’t have been possible to fit it to her properly, the Orc wearing it was several inches taller than her, for a start. Not to mention the weight! Still, she managed to find room in her pack for the helmet, and seemed happy with that.
We decided to head to Ivarstead, rather than back to Falkreath, but we got rather lost in the snow and found ourselves forced to take shelter in a cavern filled with ice wraiths and wolves. Once we’d dealt with the more violent occupants, we realised someone was already in there. Singing. A young woman who was raised among the Companions at Jorrvaksr, after her village was wiped out by Falmer. Very sad. She was vague, but adamant, about her reasons for leaving. I may have to ask the Dunmer, Llerethis, if she knows anything, although I believe she is rather new to the group. We shared a meal with her, and decided to return to Whiterun. Thankfully the storm was short.
We found a quiet table in the Bannered Mare, after selling everything we’d brought back from Helgen to Adrianne, Belethor, and the market stall-keepers, Rumarin counted up and there was enough gold to buy the house Avenicci mentioned. I tried to point out that some of the money should go to them (apparently Lydia’s pay comes out of the city’s coffers, but I can’t imagine it’s an awful lot) but they bamboozled me with the argument that they would also quite like somewhere to live that wasn’t a cot in the barracks or a bedroll on Ulundil’s chilly floor. There may also have been mead. Fine, there was definitely mead. Still, I’m sure the Nords are used to Thanes who burst into the Jarl’s palace at sunset, drop a bag that’s really more of a tunic tied around several thousand gold coins onto the table, and drunkenly ask about buying ‘Heezebrome.’
I paid for some of the renovations, as well (maybe sozzled Thanes is how they expect to get away with charging extra for that sort of thing?) Lydia’s staying there tonight to let the workmen in tomorrow. So Rumarin and I made our way to Riverside Lodge in the dark, which did, at least, sober us up a bit. Well, I’m not sure about Rumarin. I must say, it’s a nice house, so long as I ignore the statue of Talos in the basement. It’s almost as big as the one in the city! Still, the sauna and the bedroom make up for that. Probably was a bad idea to go in the sauna after drinking, but we weren’t in there long. Just enough to warm up from the rain. I thought for a minute he was going to kiss me, after the bracelet and things. I’m probably being stupid, he’s my friend, and half my age. Anyway, I’m in bed, now, with some bread and cheese and an apple, and I’ve nearly got my new spell figured out. A Rune of Dampening. When I cast it, other Illusion spells will be silent so long as I’m close enough. This could be very useful for sneaking around where I shouldn’t be. Invisibility and Muffle would be much more helpful if I didn’t have to be well out of earshot of anything before casting them.
7th Frostfall
Rumarin woke me almost before dawn. Very chipper for someone who drank a couple of bottles of Surelie Brothers wine last night. He was talking to that boy, Hjoromir, in the Mare, goodness knows how that oaf managed to make it to Whiterun in one piece, must have finally found a patron, although I suspect he’d been abandoned again. Anyway, Hjoromir claimed the inn at Riverwood is named after an actual sleeping giant, charmed or whatever, in a cave somewhere in Falkreath Hold. Rumarin had the bright idea to go and try to sneak past it and retrieve its treasure. I really shouldn’t agree to things before I’m fully awake, particularly when I’ve been drinking the night before. So, we’re packing our things and heading to somewhere called Morthal to track down some legendary swordsman to aid in our Noble Quest (that is, to help out when we inevitably fail at the sneaking part – and here I was, thinking I was getting quite skilled.) I had rather hoped for a few days of doing not very much before heading up to Winterhold for the start of term, but apparently it was not to be.
7th Frostfall (evening)
Found our legendary swordsman, although she’s more of a female Argonian. Still, she seemed competent against the chaurus monstrosities in the swamp, and she may have saved my life slightly when I stumbled across a pair of trolls – not the frosty variety, so they were less easily overwhelmed by fire magics than I expected. Possibly the least dignified moments of my life, running backwards in circles, trying to stay out of their reach while my magicka replenished itself – not helped by the hangover - and screaming at my companions to help. The swamp is difficult to navigate, and the other three are all rather larger than I am (Anum-La not by much, thankfully) and I didn’t realise they wouldn’t be able to manage the jump I made across a stream of muck until I had been walking by myself for a few minutes while they were still looking for a safe way around. I was having a good yell at them (after the trolls had been dealt with) when Anum-La pointed out that even a “pathetic” swamp like this is not a good place to be wading through the mire as there are places which are deeper than a giant’s height and it’s very easy to be sucked down in the blink of an eye.
In spite of all that, she seemed happy enough to join us in our attempt to… whatever it is we’re thinking of doing with this bloody giant. Rumarin also wants to track down Fjona the erstwhile Companion, as he thinks her singing might placate the creature. Certainly can’t imagine any of the rest of us managing, I was always made well aware at school that my singing was Not Acceptable. Rumarin is actually rather good by Nord standards, but in a ‘bawdy songs that make the innkeeper blush’ sort of way. Lydia joins in enthusiastically, too, but I can’t see her carrying a lullaby. And, well, Anum-La is actually quite charming in a brusque way, but her voice sounds like a bag of rusty nails.
After nearly dying a couple more times on our way back to Morthal, I was quietly (we were in the inn, after all, surrounded by townspeople) vowing never to return to this gods-forsaken hold again when Rumarin drew my attention to the map he’d taken out of my pack while I was trying to dry out my boots by the fire. Ah. Ustengrav. I was planning to wait a while longer, because honestly I don’t really feel ready to Prove Myself to the Greybeards – I’ve not even seen another dragon yet, and if one were to show up now, I’d probably join the rest of the locals in hiding in the Inn and hoping it wasn’t a fire-breather.
Still, I can’t deny that it makes sense to get it over with and then stay away from this horrible area. I feel like I should go by myself. Rumarin and Lydia are Not Happy, particularly as I am so utterly reliant on my magics. I have agreed to let them, and Anum-La, train me in basic sword use in case I find myself drained and a foe un-vanquished and so on. So, for tonight, a hearty dinner of stew and baked potatoes, absolutely no drink (save milk and water) and a warm bed. I've been very graciously permitted a few minutes for my journal, but I'm being glared at by my housecarl, so I think it's time for sleep.
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"I'm being glared at by my housecarl..."
Nice to see another chapter up in Nerussa's tale.