I am Laeilwyn Riverpool (A Skyrim Adventure)

Chapter Two: A Satchel Full of Hearts

Some years later...

"Are you sure you want to get into a bow battle with a Bosmer?" I shouted across the camp to the Forsworn agent I was hunting.

"The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!" He shouted back at me.

His funeral. I thought. I drew an arrow from my quiver, placed it in my bow, drew it back and fired. It struck him right between the eyes. I went over to him, pulled my arrow out of his forehead, and began to carve out the Briarheart as proof of kill.

"Nice shot Elle!" My dark elf companion shouted to me from his post.

"Thanks! This is going to be an excellent payday." I said back to him.

Oh, how did I manage to get out of my own "execution"? One of the other prisoners, named Ralof, led me safely to the keep, unbound my hands, and we escaped through an underground tunnel from the dungeons while the dragon was tearing the village to pieces.

I had no idea where my possessions were, and that included my family bow I brought from Valenwood. It was carved from a fallen branch the tree we lived in gifted us with. We painted it black and painting the name "Riverpool" in green along the side. It gave the archer using it an uncanny ability to hit their mark every single time. When I was "arrested" for my "crimes", they took it, and sent it off in a separate wagon. I've been searching for it ever since.

After we escaped that horrid town Ralof took me to his home, a small village named Riverwood. Him and his sister operated the mill where I worked until I was back on my feet.

It was the most boring three months of my life. One day, I just couldn't take it anymore. I said goodbye and thank you to Ralof and Gerdur, and set off on my own adventure. I never stayed in one city for too long, because I found it would get boring. I improved my combat skills, becoming almost as lethal with a sword and shield as I was with a bow and arrow. So, I offered my services as a mercenary for hire. I received a letter from a client in Markarth asking me if my services were still for hire, and if so, he had a list of Forsworn agents he wanted eliminated. This self-righteous swit was last one on the list. I got on my horse, and began the ride back to Markarth to deliver the proof of kill.

My companion? His name is Erandur. We met in the Pale capital of Dawnstar. When I arrived, I wasn't really acknowledged, until I met Erandur. He needed my help, and I was looking for work. We instantly became the best of friends, because we were both a strange sight; elves in Skyrim.

Erandur is a priest of Mara, but he has a ... sketchy history. After all, people generally wouldn't go parading around with an ex-Vaermina worshipper. I didn't mind. It doesn't seem to me like he wants to relive his past, so we rarely visit Dawnstar. Now, his life is dedicated to Mara, and our work. I'm not religious, and he doesn't mind. It's the perfect combination.

I glanced over at him on his horse. "Erandur. You've got a pretty bad dent in your chestplate there."

He looked down. The dent was large enough to damage the integrity of the armor. "Ah, those bloody dual-wielding Forsworn and their ridiculous swords!" He said, his Dunmeri accent peeking through his thinly veiled anger. "One of 'em must've got a good whack at me before I could cut 'em down to size. I'll have to get a smithy to look at it when we get into town."

"You know, with this payday we could get you a better set..." I suggested.

"What's wrong with my elven armor?" He said defensively.

"Nothing! Well not nothing..." I began

"What would you propose I wear? That hideous Orcish armor?"

"No! I was thinking of some nice glass pieces..."

"Why would I go spending all our money on a glorified temple window for protection when you've got holes in your gauntlets bigger than the holes those Forsworn have got in their chests?" He said, looking pointedly at the worn out palms of my leather gauntlets.

"It's for your own protection, Erandur!" I pleaded. He was having none of it, so I dropped the subject and instead began into a round of "Ragnar the Red" to pass the time.

*** 

We approached Markarth as the sun was setting.

"I don't think we're going to make it back to Old Hroldan in time Elle..." Erandur said, pulling out his torch.

I sighed. Erandur and I had never found a permanent residence since we were always moving around. For the past few days, we were staying at the inn south of Soljund's Sinkhole. "I guess we will have to stay at the Silver Blood Inn tonight. Last time I was sure there was a dead Skeever in the walls though..." I shuddered at the memory.

Erandur made a face. "It may not be our ideal quarters, but it's safer than travelling through Forsworn territory at night."

I shrugged and opened the heavy, Dwemer metals doors to the inside of the city. Dubbed the "City of Stone", it was built into the side of a mountain with Dwemer metals adorning the exterior surfaces. Getting to the blasted city was treacherous for us, but it was a trip we had to make regularly. We went up to our clients house and knocked on the door five times before leaving the satchel of hearts on the step. Our clients didn't always want to be associated with mercenaries, so sometimes we would receive the payment by courier a few days later. If they didn't pay... well, they knew what happened. We headed towards the inn, getting stopped by a guard at the front entrance.

"Halt!" He shouted. "What's your purpose in Markarth?"

"Just here on business, why?" Erandur asked.

"You two should leave. There was a murder in the marketplace this morning. We have reason to believe it was a Forsworn agent. The guards are being extra diligent about outsiders. I can't let you into the inn." The guard said. He didn't sound very apologetic.

"How do we know this isn't just a ploy to keep elves out of your inn?" I asked, folding my arms. Getting rejected from businesses were common when you were an elf.

"Don't cross me, Elf." He said, reaching for his weapon.

Erandur stepped in between us. "It's fine, we'll go." He pulled me away before I said something stupid. I was smart, but sometimes I let my anger cloud my judgment. Erandur was almost never angry, only when he really cared. He almost always kept a clear mind. "We'll just ride back to the inn. We showed those Forsworn we can do more than take care of them today."

I chuckled. We were approached by a woman before we could leave the city. 

"Excuse me!" She called. "Are you Laeilwyn Riverpool?"

"Indeed. How can I help you?" I asked. 

"Oh, no, it's not for me. I have your payment." She whispered, nervously looking around. She pulled out a large coin purse and handed it to me. "Dibella bless you."  She scurried away before we could shake hands. 

I looked at Erandur. He shrugged. "How much?" 

I rattled the bag. "Five thousand septims? Not bad for pest disposal huh?" 

"No, not at all. But for almost getting our throats slit twice, I would have expected a bit more. After all, if they couldn't afford to be disposing of these Reachmen, they wouldn't have hired us to do it in the first place." Erandur complained, saddling up the horses and mounting his chestnut colored mare. 

I hopped onto my horse. "We'll get another contract soon. It will be a huge payday. I can feel it!" I proclaimed into the night.