Morndas?.. 5th of Hearthfire, 4E
As I wake up and stretch, I can feel every joint in my body pop, and every muscle tighten and stretch; almost as if I have been sleeping for ages. I hold my face in my hands and rub my eyes, I am surprised to feel the scruffy beard on my face, almost as if it magically appeared, but it makes sense, I haven’t shaved once since arriving in Skyrim. Who has that kind of time when this land is trying to kill you every moment of every day. I swing my legs out from the bed, stretching again, loosening my tight muscles a bit more. Looking around the room, it almost feels as if someone came in and rearranged everything while I slept; but that is just a ludicrous thought, isn’t it?
I walk over to my back pack and rummage through my belongings; I notice some items are missing, particularly my food and drink. I look around the room and realize my armor and weapons are missing as well. Have I been robbed? I stand in my room dazed for a moment; still confused that someone managed to dig through all my stuff, steal my armor, my shield, and my sword without me even waking up. Was I drugged last night? Ten minutes into this day and it is already feeling like it’s going to be a shit day. This is just a fantastic way to start my day, Skyrim has something to do with this I just know it; I don’t even want to think about what else could possibly go wrong. I really should know better than to ask that question shouldn’t I.
After a long moment of silence to mourn the loss of my food, and my gear, I remember I am in Falkreath; I don’t have time to be sad. I can’t let this new trick by Skyrim keep me down. I came here to become the apprentice of Lod, and that is what I am going to do; right after I get some breakfast, and maybe some answers as to who stole my stuff. I stroll up to the bar and sit down; Valga tells me she will be right with me from across the room.
My face feels hot as I over hear the waitress speak in a semi hushed tone to Valga, “Shor’s bones! A handsome man in Falkreath!”. Valga quickly tells her to be quiet and get to work sweeping the porch. My stomach growls loudly as Valga walks behind the bar. I guess I was too tired last night to notice, but when I look up at Valga I realize that she is quite the looker. She gives me a half-smile, clearly noticing the red flush on my face and the very audible noise coming from my stomach. She suggests I get some food in my belly before it gets so loud it drowns out her bard. Crap, you have a bard? Oh joy, I can‘t wait to have my ears violated. I nod and smile at Valga as I order an apple and a piece of bread with some water to wash it down. As I eat, I tell her about my stolen items and ask if anyone might have noticed anything out of the ordinary or maybe someone going into my room last night. She tells me no one else has stepped foot into the Inn since I arrived last night. I guess my stuff just up and disappeared into the ether, great. I thank Valga for the food and she smiles at me.
Upon leaving the Inn I see the waitress outside sweeping the porch, she makes a comment about a strong drink chasing off the chill in the air as I approach her. She tells me her name is Narri and asks if she can get anything for me; I smile and ask her where I might find the blacksmith’s shop. She looks at me strangely before pointing to the building across the street. I turn around and see the sign, I must have been blind to not have noticed; no wonder she looked at me like I was stupid. I thank Narri and nearly trip over a pumpkin as I head down the steps; damn you Skyrim. I look at the carved pumpkin and then notice the decorations hanging around the town; I can’t believe I forgot all about Tales and Tallow’s day.
Making my way over to the blacksmith’s shop I can hear the rhythmic hammering of steel one would expect coming from a blacksmith’s shop. The sound of steel hammering steel was ringing out from the back area of the building. As I make my way to the back I see a large man standing against a pillar wearing a blacksmithing apron. That has to be Lod, but I can still hear hammering; so, if he is Lod, who the hell is hammering? I approach the man and ask if he is Lod, he raises an eyebrow and nods. I introduce myself and explain to him that Alvor sent me to be his apprentice. He looks me up and down, and tells me I look more like a miner than I do a blacksmith. I tell him I have a little training from Alvor, Adrianna, and Rustlief. He looks at me a moment and nods in the direction of the forge telling me to make some iron armor and a weapon of my choosing so he can see what I have learned thus far.
Eagerly I turn the corner to begin working. I am struck dumb as I notice a beautiful woman sharpening a sword on the grinding wheel. She turns and looks at me while she works, then tests the edge of the blade on her thumb and smirks. Before I know it she is standing in front of me introducing herself. She smiles at me and said her name is Isobel, then she asks if I am looking to buy any armor or weapons. I smile back at her and tell her I need to use the forge, she nods and begins to work at the grinding wheel.
I found it hard to focus while I worked for some reason. After hours of work I present the piece of armor and the weapon to Lod for him to inspect. He looks at me and tells me I have minimal talent and I hear a small giggle from Isobel behind me. Lod then tells me he has to think about me becoming his apprentice because he already has one. Great, just great. Of course he has an apprentice, why wouldn‘t he have an apprentice, the nine forbid he not have an apprentice. Let me guess, it is your next door neighbor’s, little brother’s, cousin’s, nephew, on the fourth side, twice removed, red-headed, adopted, step child. He smirks, and then he points behind me to Isobel. I turn and look at Isobel who smiles and waves at me. Of course she is his apprentice, I should have known she was his apprentice, who else would it have been. I walk over and properly introduce myself, in kind she again tells me her name. I nod and I tell her it is a pleasure to have met her and I hope to see her again. She looks at me curiously and asks why I wouldn’t. Not having an answer I smile stupidly and take my leave, I can hear her snicker as I walk away.
Standing in the middle of the road I gauge the time and decide it is still relatively early. So, as not to arouse any suspicions as to why I am here, since there is a war on apparently; I should probably inform whoever is in charge of the town that I am here, and that if I am to become Lod’s apprentice, or rather his other apprentice, I might be staying for some time. I ask a passing guard who is in charge of the town and he tells me Jarl Siddgeir can be found in the large longhouse down the road and points me in the right direction. Another Jarl, that has to be one of the most popular names in Skyrim. At least he doesn’t call himself “The Jarl” like someone else I know, so I guess he can’t be too bad, right?
Entering the longhouse I am met by an Altmer woman. She greets me and tells me her name is Nenya, and that she is Jarl Siddgeir’s steward. I am not used to an Altmer being so, amicable, it takes me by surprise, that and her crossed eyes grab my attention, making it hard for me to focus on what she is telling me. I break eye contact with her, then I tell her my name, and that I wish to speak to Jarl. She looks at me oddly and tells me that Jarl Siddgeir can be found sitting upon his throne and warned me that he is the impatient sort. I thank her and make my way to the back of the longhouse where I can see a man sitting upon a large throne.
As I draw closer, I can’t help but stare at the mans head. He seems to have grown antlers out of the sides of his head, what the hell? As I approach closer, he holds his hand up motioning for me to stop. I can clearly see they are definitely antlers, but on a crown, thank the nine. I thought I was dealing with some sort of stag man for a second there. Kind of tacky if you ask me, but I am not known for my fashion sense; so, who am I to judge. Before I can utter a word Jarl asks me for my tribute. Tribute? What tribute? I wasn’t aware I needed a tribute. Who the hell asks for tributes? What are you the Tenth Divine? You are not a damn king, you run a small little village in the middle of bum fuck no where and you want a damn tribute? Nenya should have warned me that he was arrogant prick as well as impatient.
By the bewildered look on my face Jarl determines I have no tribute for him. He then demands some fresh “Black Briar Mead” from Riften. As politely as I can, because at this point I am ready to punch him in his smug face, I tell him I can not go to Riften because I might lose my potential apprenticeship with Lod. He looks down his nose at me and scoffs, telling me he has no time for the likes of me. Then he waves his hand, motioning for me to leave his presence. What a jackass; I can’t believe he wanted me to risk my life traveling to Riften and back for a damn bottle of mead, and some pretty shitty mead at that. I have tasted that stuff, it tastes like piss, not that I would know what piss tastes like but I know it don’t taste good.
As I am walking away I can hear him speaking to someone about lowering the guards pay for being sloppy. Well, that does it, now I know he is a jackass who doesn’t give a crap for anyone but himself. As my hand touches the door to the longhouse I remember I “found” a bottle of Black Briar Mead a while back that I have been holding onto for some reason; then I remember I was robbed. I hurry out the door and back to the “Dead Man’s Drink”. I rush past everyone and hurry to my bag; I frantically rummage through my bag to see if I still had the bottle. To my delight I found it; bottle in hand I leave my room and start to head back to the longhouse when my stomach loudly informs me that it is time to eat. I decide to stay for lunch, which seems to be a popular idea as the tavern is now full of people.
Sitting down at the bar enjoying my food I am interrupted by an older man who bumps into me. He apologizes and tells me he used to be Jarl Dengeir of Falkreath but now he is Dengeir of Stuhn. Wait, so let me get this straight; Jarl Siddgeir, forced you to change your name and then stole your old name? Wow, he really is a complete ass isn’t he. Dengeir goes on to tell me he used to run Falkreath, but his nephew Siddgeir was put in charge because of an Imperialist plot. Hold on, Jarl Siddgeir is also you nephew? Your nephew stole your name and your job? What a dick. You just said Imperialist plot didn’t you? On that note I nod to the nice old man and walk away from him slowly. I don’t need to hear any conspiracy theories. So, thanks for the chat, but I get this feeling that if I continue to listen to you, you are going to ask me to do something stupid, illegal, dangerous, or all of the above; so, I bid thee a good day.
Exiting the tavern with the bottle of Black Briar Mead in hand I stop and look at it for a moment. I ponder whether or not I should give Jarl his tribute. He really doesn’t deserve this bottle of Black Briar Mead. His actions really shouldn’t be rewarded for being a spoiled, petulant, child, even if it is basically piss in a bottle. I begin to grin mischievously as a thought develops in my mind. I carefully uncork the bottle and dump the contents in some near by bushes. I make my way around the building where no prying eyes can see me and proceed to, fill it back up, so to speak. I re-cork the bottle carefully making sure it appears to never have been opened before heading down the road to the longhouse.
Entering the longhouse I see Narri who looks at me quizzically, I smirk and show her the bottle of Black Briar Mead and she nods; I grin briefly and make my way back to where Jarl is still sitting. As I approach he again raises his hand for me to stop, but before he can tell me anything I hold up the bottle of Black Briar Mead and his eyes light up. I tell him I was saving this for a special occasion but I can’t think of any reason he doesn’t deserve this more than anyone else. He smiles widely and says I couldn’t be more right. He snatches the bottle from my hand quickly opening it and guzzling it down. Doing my best to refrain from laughing, but I nearly choke on my laughter as he wipes his mouth proclaiming how much he enjoys the taste of Black Briar Mead, “Even if it was hot it is still better than everything else.” he says with a satisfied smile. A tear rolls down my face from trying to contain my laughter. I can’t help but feel that maybe this isn’t the first time he has drunk a bottle of piss, which makes me want to laugh even more.
He thanks me for the refreshing mead and tells me to stop by sometime because he might have work for someone like me. Right. Like I would work for someone who can’t discern the taste difference between mead and piss, let alone, work for someone who enjoys the taste of piss. Besides, working for someone as arrogant as Jarl seems like it might be a tad on the dangerous side. So, thanks, but no thanks; I thank him for his time, he wishes me luck on getting my apprenticeship, and I turn with a giant grin on my face, and head back outside. Outside I can no longer hold my laughter in and I burst into laughter, tears rolling down my face, drawing the attention of passers-by.
There is still plenty of day light left, so I decide to head back to the forge to get some work done on some armor to replace what was stolen from me, and possibly persuade Lod’s decision to make me an apprentice. I try my best to compose myself but I just can’t seem to get rid of my smile. As I approach the forge I can over hear Isobel receiving instruction from Lod. I approach Lod and ask him if I can use the forge, he agrees as long as I don’t interrupt Isobel’s training or his progress on his work; I nod in agreement and begin to work on some armor. After a couple of hours of trying to make some replacement armor I notice Isobel watching me as I work. I can only assume she was told to keep an eye on me by Lod.
I finish my armor after some distracted smithing, and approach Isobel, who is now leaning against a wooden pillar near the forge. She greets me and asks if I need anything smithed, and she can make anything I might need. I awkwardly thank her for the offer and tell her it’s rare to meet a smith with such soft hands and radiant beauty; I immediately feel stupid for saying something like that. She smiles blushing slightly before calling me a charmer, and notes she will have to be careful around me; but then tells me I am wrong about her hands. She goes on to tell me she is not a smith yet, but still just Isobel the apprentice. She continues to tell me that she came to Skyrim as part of a pilgrimage, to learn how nords smith such fine blades. Being on a pilgrimage is a familiar concept for me and I ask her if she came from a family of blacksmiths. She smiles brightly and tells me she didn’t come from just any family, she came from Kvatch where her family are the caretakers of the “Star-Blood Forge”. I apologize to her if I offended her, and admit I have never heard of the forge or her family. She smiles and tells me she would be glad to tell me more about it sometime and she heads into Lod’s house. I watch Isobel enter Lod’s home and begin to make my way back to the Dead Man’s Drink for some dinner and to turn in for the night.
As I am crossing the road I hear a belligerent woman’s voice asking me what I am looking at. I look over and it is a Thalmor agent, great just what I need. I grit my teeth and try to ignore her but she stops me, telling me I am just like all the others in this town and want to kill her and she is not here to “Fulfill my desire for pain or free me from my wretched existence.”. Before I can respond she continues by telling me the only reason I am talking to her is because I want vengeance for my loved ones. Again cutting me off before I can reply she tells me I am too late and she is no longer a Thalmor agent. I just stand there looking at her, gritting my teeth and my hands clenched into fists, wanting to do nothing more than knock her on her ass but that would land me in a prison cell if not dead so I just remain silent, letting her continue to speak.
She continues and tells me she used to work in Markarth weeding out Talos worshipers and she was stripped of her rank when a family she was investigating was found murdered. She swore she didn‘t do it even though in her eyes it would have been the right course of action. At this point I have heard enough. I am going to leave now before I do or say something stupid, like try to kill you myself for being a typical holier than thou, my shit doesn‘t stink, we were here first so let‘s commit mass genocide because I don‘t like your god, Thalmor. The fact that I stood there and listened to that crap fall out of your mouth for so long makes me want to dive into a bottle. That you were about to ask me to help you clear your name, because a blind man could see that is where that was heading, makes me want to drink that bottle dry and shove it into your eye. So, please stop talking to me, hell stop talking to everyone. Take your pity party back to the Summerset Islands where someone might actually give a flying fuck, you worthless excuse of a Mer. It would have been awesome to have said that, but I didn’t. Instead I just turned my back to her and walked away from her as swiftly as I could. Though I could still hear her talking as I left, I wonder how long it will take her to realize I left and no one cares about anything she says. Well, she is, or was, a Thalmor so probable never would be my guess.
I head inside the Dead Man’s drink and belly up to the bar. Narri hurries over and asks me if I would like anything. If I were to be honest with her I could have had drown myself in alcohol after listening to that Thalmor moan and drone on for so long, but instead I ordered some water and a nice wolf steak. It might have been a tad on the expensive side but I feel I deserved a treat today. Besides the only thing I have to eat is an apple since someone robbed me.
I over hear Narri and Valga talking about wanting to hire another waitress but she is working for that conspiracy nut Dengeir. That’s not fair Dengeir might not be crazy, I honestly wouldn’t put it past his nephew, Jarl, to plot against him. I mean after all he did steal the man’s name. Valga stands behind the bar and offers me a refill on my water as the bard begins to play. Ragnar the Red, why is it always Ragnar the Red. Are there no other songs to be sung? I think Valga could see in my eyes I didn’t want to hear the song so she motioned her bard to play something instrumental. At least he is an ok flute player. I rent a room for the night and Valga insists on showing me to the room. I could understand her doing this if perhaps I were to stay in a different room, but no, it is the same room. Oh well, it is still a nice gesture. She tells me to let her know if I need anything and leaves. I close the door behind her, I really do enjoy having a door, and I lay down and relax. I am just about to fall asleep when I hear the bard start to play Ragnar the Red. Seriously, what is it with bards and this damn song?
All in all it was a rather eventful day. Hopefully Lod will decide to take me on as an apprentice, even though he has Isobel. Not sure what I will do if he doesn’t. I will cross that bridge when I get to it I suppose. Until then it is time for some shut-eye. Good night Falkreath, and good night Skyrim. Glad you didn’t try to kill me today, unless you are counting Jarl trying to get me to go to Riften for a bottle of crappy mead, or that crazy ass Thalmor who was begging for someone to kill her. If you do, than you are slipping.
Finally! Got this entry posted. I really hope everyone enjoys it and it is a little bit funny. It took me forever because I just kept re-writing the last page over and over again. I was never happy with it. I just decided to say screw it and post it. I just hope it is good enough not to completely suck. Now at least I can work on the next entry some, and hope my OCD, perfectionist ways don’t rear their ugly heads again. As always I look forward to your comments, remember to hit the like button and share it if you enjoyed it. Until next time, which hopefully won’t take forever, be good, if you can’t be good be bad, just be good at it.