Keeper of the Black Books (Skyrim Fanfic)

I - Tale of Two

Eira sat nervously in the Frozen Hearth, a distance away from the fire, grilled leeks and soup gone cold. The bard's music playing in the background, crackling flames and idle chatter filled the inn's space. The musky smell of hide and burning wood crept up her nose. Eira swirled the water around in her cup, the thin film of ice that was forming on the water's surface now broken. Broken ice floated like mini icebergs. She sighed, and lowered her cup. Her feet tapping the stone floors in a continuos beat.

"You can do this Eira," she muttered to herself. "They'll let you in." The Imperial breathed out and massaged her knotted temples. The nervousness overwhelming her being, the silky wings of butterflies brushing against her insides and cold skeleton fingers brushing up and down her spine. A small flame of hope burning in her chest and a sense of responsibility sitting on her shoulders, each second going by only seemed to add weight to the said load. Many questions bubbled up in her brain, like an overgrown garden of emotions.

'Will they like me? Will I have friends? I do hope it's warm over there...'

"Are you well, miss?" A young man's voice asked. Eira glanced up from her sulking. A Nord sat beside her, her small bag in between them. He looked as if he tried to be aware of the space between them as he is a couple inches away from the bag. Eira mentally noted his respect for her personal space, even if she didn't mind. "You look nervous." She gave him a reassuring smile, and nodded.

"I'm fine. A little nervous, however," she replied. Eira took in his appearance. She noticed his attire was one of a farmer's, accompanied by a cloak, a dagger and a bag. The end of the cloak was frayed and dirtied, course strings coming loose from the rest of the tightly woven others. The dagger, although intimidatingly catching the warm glow of the fire and glinting, was blunt and worn. Traces of maroon blood left in its scratches.

'A traveller too?' She thought to herself.

"Where are you travelling to?"

"This is my destination," he explained. "I plan on going to the College of Winterhold." Eira's eyes lit up and her smile grew.

"I have the same plans," she said. After a pause, Eira offered, "We could go together, if you want."

"That'd settle my doubts a little. I have to admit, I'm rather nervous as well," he said and smiled sheepishly. "I didn't think it would be this daunting. Being a Nord and all." Eira nodded in understanding. Nords can be rather skeptical about magic. Not to mention learning it.

"Don't worry. I won't judge or anything," she reassured. "My name is Eira. What's yours?"

"Vidar, miss." Vidar smiled and offered a hand. Eira took it and gave it a brief shake. She loosened her grip and her hand found its way back to the cup of water.

"So, what made a Nord want to study the Arcane arts?" Eira asked, eyebrow raised, and lifted the cup to her lips.

"My older brother got accepted into the college last year and I wanted to follow his example," Vidar started eagerly, "but our parents were against it. We managed to convince them though. I stayed back a while as I was too young and needed to help with the farm."

"You have an older brother?"

"Yes, I do." he confirmed. "His name is Onmund. Do you have any siblings?"

"I have a little sister and brother," Eira replied. She lowered her cup onto the table. "They both prefer swords or lutes than magic." Chuckling, Eira made a sword-swinging motion with her free hand. "I, on the other hand, was the odd one out." Vidar's smile dimmed, soon replaced by a bitter expression. Eira, too busy with her cold food, took no notice of his mumbling.