Scales and Hearts | A Skyrim Fanfiction

Chapter Thirteen: To Morthal and Beyond

Druthza

A few hours later...

Our time in the presence of the Greybeards hadn't gone on for much longer before I was given a quest to undertake, one that would take us to the cold, foggy, marshy town of Morthal, located many a mile northwest of the Throat of the World.

And what, exactly, did this quest of mine entail? Apparently, from what Arngeir had told me after my trial in the courtyard, I had to go and retrieve a horn from some Nordic ruin called "Ustengrav," which lay near Morthal a few miles northeast, with the item in question supposedly interred within the ruins' depths.

Meaning that, if Bleak Falls Barrow didn't teach me and Derkeethus anything, this would be an extensive trip for us to undergo, with the main attraction being the deeper portions of the ruins, where our item of interest would be, with no doubt, located.

But, as things stood now, after having hiked back down the mountain, gotten my reward from Klimmek, and asked around for directions whilst the sun sank in the sky, our trek to Morthal was looking to be quite a lengthy trip, even if it did mean completing my initiation into the Greybeards' whole "Way of the Voice" cult.

As we took a seat at the Vilemyr Inn, food and drink before us, I sighed as I placed my map on the table, looking it over once again with my companions. "Right- so from what this tells me, based on where we are now, getting to Morthal will take at least a day or two to accomplish, if we don't take a swift carriage there. But even if we do that, it'll still be a while before we even get there." I explained, tapping my claw against where Mortal was located, knowing full well that the time it would take to circle the Throat of the World and head out in the general direction of our objective would take some time itself.

"There's a carriage just outside of Whiterun," said Lydia, who tucked some of her ebony hair behind her ear to better gaze at me from her seat next to me and on my right, taking a sip of her mead before adding: "he should be able to get us there."

"Do you happen to know just how much it costs for a carriage to Morthal?" Derkeethus asked her from my left, his eyes trained on the map I had in front of us, occasionally glancing up at me while doing so. "That I don't know. I've never traveled too far from Whiterun, truthfully." She said to him, "but my guess is at least 50 septims for a carriage there. The only thing we'll have to worry about is what'll be encountered on the road."

"Hmmm. Fair enough, I suppose." Keeth nodded his head thoughtfully before pulling off a chunk of bread from the loaf in his hand, putting it to his mouth. "When are we to head out?"

I took a drink of my Honningbrew mead before biting off a bit of my boiled creme treat, savoring that sweetness for the moment it lasted before answering him: "we'll settle here for the night, and head out tomorrow morning for Whiterun. The carriage should get us there by nightfall tomorrow, if we get there early."

"Which begs the question..." I turned to face the barkeep standing behind the counter, getting the Nord's attention with a loud snap of my claws: "hey- mind if I ask how much it is for a room here?"

"It's ten for the one I've got open, Argonian. Got two beds, this one," the barkeep told me, and with a noise of approval, I went back to gazing at my map and consuming my brief snack, unconsciously tapping my claws against the wood of the table and humming softly, feeling content at the current moment with how I felt.

We sat in silence for a bit after that, eating our food and listening to the chatter of the few other patrons around us, the absence of a bard leaving the ambiance relatively quiet save for the crackle of the fireplace and our soft breathing.