Skyrim: Dark Firewood

Be Kind To Thy Neighbor

"Ah, brother!"

The voice was sweet and chipper, making Kerev's core spark with hope.

"It's nice to see another Elf so far from home."

The spark snuffed itself out.

Kerev turned his head, seeing a rather short wood elf standing atop a bridge. He had blonde hair done up in a tight ponytail, dull eyes full of life, and a kind welcoming smile on his face. He held the stack of firewood like it weighed nothing, and Kerev found himself sizing the stranger up. Whoever he was, he could never hope to be Hondil.

Kerev made a face and scoffed, starting to walk through the town. His shoulders slumped and his left leg started dragging behind him ever so slightly. He could feel his arms go limp and become jelly, just about ready to fall into another cart of cabbages and scream.

Faendall paused, watching the strange new elf limp away. He took in Kerev's state fully, realizing his torn up and burnt clothes were once fine and distinguished garments. Too fancy for his own taste, but it seemed to fit the Dark Elf.

Faendall set his wood aside and slowly followed Kerev. Kerev noticed and did his best to look angry.

"Are you alright?" Faendall asked. "Where did you come from?"

"I'm fine."

Kerev felt his knee hit a cart of vegetables, muscles constricting and quickly releasing. He decided to let his legs give out, getting a face full of cabbages once more. He let out a pained and powerful groan, barely bothered by Faendall's hand on his back.

"Hey. Let's get you to the inn," Faendall insisted.

Kerev let out one last hiss of a breath before nodding, struggling to get his feet under him. He let Faendall hoist one of his arms over his shoulders, near forcing the Dark Elf to his feet.

Faendall was unencumbured, practically dragging Kerev down the street. Faendall didn't seem to mind the few people who stared, having lived in Riverwood long enough to know Nords liked to stare at shiny new things.

Faendall began to climb up the stairs with Kerev, pulling him up one step at a time. The door to the inn swung open, and a young bardic Nord started to saunter out. He stopped with a jolt, looking Kerev and Faendall up and down.

"Sven," Faendall said, voice sharp and a tad harsh. "Hold the door open, will you?"

Sven scoffed and took a step back, puffing out his chest. He met Kerev's eyes as the Dark Elf slowly tilted his head up to try and see how many steps there were. Sven seemed to soften, seeing the burns and soot littering his neck, chest and cheeks.

"What kind of bard would I be if I didn't?" Sven got out, cocky and proud. He held the door open with flare, keeping his chin up and his eyes on Kerev.

Faendall nodded and huffed, heaving Kerev into the inn. It wasn't too busy, boasting two customers standing beside a table full of bread and wine. A high elf and a drunken Nord beggar.

As Kerev was brought past the two, he perked up, realizing Faendall was trying to talk to him. He coughed and tilted his head.

"Hm?" He questioned, throat starting to sting.

Faendall smiled, tilting his head to mimic Kerev. They were standing in front of a room, a tall woman unlocking it and opening the door.

"I asked your name."

Kerev blinked and nodded, unsure as to why it was suddenly so hard to breathe. He coughed and nodded, voice raspy as an Argonian's.

"Ovu. Kerev Ovu." He got out.