Freystein's Tale: The Idyll of Riverwood (Ch. 4)

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    The next day I awoke feeling somewhat better about my life. A good night's rest indoors will do that. After the morning meal, I followed Hod down to the mill and the next few days ran together...

    I chopped wood, I learned how to work the mill, I took evening swims to clean off the dirt and sweat (something many of the locals should learn to do, I thought), and after the evening meal Gerdur would work tirelessly with me to teach me their language. It was hard going, but we vikingrs are good with languages, and we made steady progress over the next fortnight.

    On the third day, I made some improvements to the bow I had 'liberated' from my former captors...

    ... and went hunting for some of the big game I'd seen roaming the surrounding area. Some fresh venison should help replace the food I'd been eating, I thought. I didn't want to be a burden.

    A brigand tried to steal one of my kills, but in the end I had some new armor out of the encounter. It seemed a bit scant when I ran into a giant crab I tried to sit on, thinking it was a rock, though. Just a bit... lacking... in the vital organ area. A bit cold to wear, too.

    Also, I added giant crabs to my list of reasons to hate this place.

    I put some thought into how to make improvements to the armor while I worked around the mill.

    Gerdur and I continued our lessons and eventually I began to learn about my surroundings. I learned that our village was called Riverwood, and it was on the border between two Holds. Helgen was the name of the town that had been destroyed by the wyrm. The alfar were called 'elves' here, and Gerdur and Ralof didn't seem to like them very much, although they didn't seem to mind the one living in Riverwood - Faendal they called him - since something was different about him. I still couldn't understand well enough for it to make sense.

    For her part, Gerdur encouraged me to speak with Faendal, since we both worked at the mill and he, like most alfar, had a gift for languages. He wanted to learn my tongue, and I was very hesitant at first... we vikingrs much prefer to learn the words of others and keep ours secret... but in the end I decided it would be nice to have someone to speak my tongue back to me from time to time.

    Faendal proved a faster learner than I, and soon we became ... not quite friends... but we worked together well and I learned much from him.

    I learned that he was a Bosmer... from some sort of wooded land, and that he was an exile because he did not like the rulers of his people, who also ruled the Altmer: the most powerful of the alfar here. There had been some sort of big war between the men and the alfar not long ago. It wasn't entirely clear to me who had won, but Faendal had fought for men and that was good enough for me.

    There was a war locally, too. The land I was in was a province of a larger empire and wanted out. Or some of it wanted out. Jarl Ulfric had killed the old king in a duel and claimed the right to be king, but not everyone agreed... especially not the empire. I didn't understand it all, even when I was sure I got the words right, because all I knew about empires were the stories about the Romans of old. Politics makes my head hurt. Since the empire tried to execute me for no reason, I decided I preferred Jarl Ulfric's Stormcloak cause, but mostly I decided I wanted to stay out of it. Ralof wanted me to go with him and join up, but I told him I'd have to think about it.

    I really just wanted to find a way to go home.

    The days carried on. My lessons with Gerdur continued without incident until the night of the tenth day. I'd been able to tell that she was troubled for some time and I finally asked her about it while we took a break from the word-learning.

    She told me she had sent a runner to Jarl Balgruuf with news of the wyrm attack, ten days ago. Neither the messenger, nor the fighting men she had requested, nor any word at all had come back from Whiterun, the Jarl's city. She was worried that some misfortune had occurred on the road.

    I offered to go and see what had happened. Or I tried to make that offer. When she finished choking on her laughter, Gerdur told me that I offered to inspect the Jarl's pants. I don't think I'll ever get this language under control.

    Gerdur said she'd wait a few more days before sending someone else, someone who could make a clear report. I felt ashamed. Here I was, a mighty vikingr warrior and I was spending my days chopping wood. I was getting better at communication, but I had a long way to go still. It really didn't help that my hosts didn't seem to believe that I came from another place. I think they thought I was just crazy. Maybe I was.

    Later that night, Hod and Gerdur and Ralof were talking about the civil war and the wyrm and Hod mentioned that those weren't their only problems. Apparently bandits had set up a camp overlooking the south road and they were blocking trade. Everyone agreed it was a problem, but I began to have an idea. I kept it to myself, but as I went to sleep that night I thought that while maybe I couldn't talk to a Jarl without embarrassing myself, I didn't need to speak to deal with a couple bandits.

    But if I did speak, and they thought I was crazy, all the better.

Comments

2 Comments
  • Incomitatus
    Incomitatus   ·  April 2, 2014
    Comments are highly appreciated! The "our village' was semi-unconscious, as in I typed it without thinking... then I noticed it, thought, "That works" and kept it.
    I'm very glad you are enjoying the tale. I feel like I'm still in the experimental s...  more
  • Borommakot
    Borommakot   ·  April 2, 2014
    I'm not sure if the "our village" was unconscious on your part, or Freystein's (or both), but it's an excellent touch. Him getting acclimated against his better judgment. Sorry for having to drop a comment on every one so far. Fair warning, I might not stop.