The Price of Vengeance- A Skyrim Fanfiction

Two: Partings and a message to Whiterun

Ralof kept up a steady jog towards Riverwood. The path twisted and turned and I was hard-pressed at times to keep up with him, as every tread brought out a wince thanks to the various bruises and cuts I had accumulated today. But I was alive, and I had hope. Hope that I was not alone in my fight against the Imperials, hope that maybe it would be possible to avenge my family. I remembered how warm my mother's hands were, and the sound of Arris's laugh, and I almost wept. I checked myself though. Crying spills no blood, and there was plenty of blood to be spilled before I could allow myself to relax and mourn. Lost in my thoughts, I almost bumped into Ralof as he stopped and pointed at a strange looking structure.

"Those are the Guardian Stones. They're rumored to increase one's ability to learn drastically. There are supposed to be one for each school of combat- the warrior, the thief and the mage. I don't really think much about it, but that's only to be expected, considering that I find magic in itself a bit strange."

After asking Ralof the way to Riverwood and promising to meet him there, I made a short detour to the Stones. The tall graceful arches loomed over 3 pillars set into the ground. The very air seemed to tingle with a slight current and I knelt before them. I felt a tug towards one of them, and after resting my hands on the pillar, gasped. A strange force flowed through my body and I felt far more stronger. I stood up and pulled out my blades. They seemed lighter, and as they flowed in the patterns I had practiced for years, I knew that I was changed in some way. Good, I thought to myself as I began sprinting towards Riverwood. My aches were gone, my wounds healed. I was ready for the long path I had to traverse.

It was night when I finally entered Riverwood. A dog lazily barked at me and I saw a man trying to calm down an old woman. "Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother. If you keep on like this everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies."

The old woman glared at her son, saying- "You'll see! It was a dragon! It'll kill us all and then you'll believe me!" It looked like Ralof had already made his way here, and given his news. I approached the man to ask him where I could find Gerdur, but as soon as I neared him, he started ranting about how some elf called Faendal was trying to woo a woman named Camilla away from him. After listening to some inane chatter about those two, and getting a letter to give to Camilla (ostensibly from this Faendal), I finally managed to get the location of Gerdur's house from the man I knew now as Sven.

I made my way to her house and found her worrying over Ralof. On seeing me, she shot me a anxious look, and catching it, Ralof turned and smiled at me. She asked him whether I was a comrade of his to which he replied- "Not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe her my life, in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials..."

A friend. I'd never had one of those before. I had been found by a trapper and sent off to the Orphanage in Riften. I hated the three years I'd lived there. The caretaker Grelod (called Grelod the Kind-which she most certainly wasn't) starved us, beat us up, demeaned us, and did everything she could to make our lives hell.It was so horrible I ran away on a moonless night. I roamed the area surrounding Riften, and lived off stolen food. Hardly luxurious, but I'd take that any day compared to Grelod's 'kindness'.

One day, I tried to steal some food from a wandering Khajiit caravan and got caught. Expecting punishment, I was instead semi-adopted by their leader- a Khajiit named Ahkari. I spent the next five years with them, and I was always treated with courtesy and occasionally, a little affection. Ahkari, when free, told me tales of how she came to Skyrim and how war was a merchant's paradise, sometimes showing me nifty little pickpocketing tricks. I followed Kharjo around like a lost puppy and he trained me. He was a master of the blade and he told me at the end of my time with them that I was a better fighter than him. Zaynabi taught me how to sneak and scout while Dro'marash showed me how to use word as weapons and keys to places. They were family of a kind, and it hurt to leave them when I decided to go to Cyrodiil with hopes of bringing the Empire down from within. I hadn't seen them in two years, and thoughts of them made me almost nostalgic for the days I had nothing more to do than learn to parry and attack.