The Girl Who Cried Thief

Riverwood Under Lights

                 Brynjolf smiled, reaching out for the door and opening it for me. "She was a reasonable little lass." he commented. I groaned in disgust, angry at myself for not being assertive enough to say that I liked to be alone, and almost...glad that there would be someone traveling with me. The roads of Skyrim were lonesome to traverse, even for cowards such as myself. 
                 Guard at the gate nodded at me and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The night air rushed into my face and through the kinks and coils of my loose hair. It smelled of fresh rain, but the ground no longer seemed to be wet. "Pretty night to travel, ain't it Lass?" Brynjolf asked absentmindedly. I didn't think he expected an answer, so I didn't provide one. Looking up at the sky now, I think I agreed that the soft, blurry gaze of Secunda accompanied the aurora borealis quite well. 

"Eyes up, Lass." Brynjolf hissed. 

                We'd traveled down the stone path that led to the Honningbrew Meadery, turning right towards the path leading through the forest. It was dark, but the soft moonlight that glowed from above illuminated the outline of three figures. They weren't saying anything or, as a matter of fact, doing anything. "Nothing to get wild over..." I shrugged weakly, hoping that the uneasiness in my voice would be hidden underneath a carefree facade. 
                We took slow steps towards them, and I realized that they had their backs turned toward us. I quickly flipped up the hood of my leather armor and gestured at Brynjolf to do the same. 

                Just as he did so, one of the men turned around and jumped slightly. "By the Eight, you scared the day out of me!" he yelled, partly smiling, and partly looking anxious. The two other men next to him jumped only slightly, and turned towards us as well. They were all Nords, most likely in their mid-40s, and seemingly armed to the teeth. 

                "Just passin' through," Brynjolf muttered, his hands in his leather pockets. I could faintly see the imprint of the small dagger there, and prayed that the men wouldn't see it and take it offense. 

                The man that had turned to us first smiled weakly. "Of course. Pass on through, then." and he stepped aside. The other two men said nothing as we walked past, and once we'd passed them altogether, Brynjolf grabbed my wrist and hurried me on. 

                 Once they were out of sight, Brynjolf slowed, and pulled his hood down again. "That was a close call, Lass," he breathed, planting a firm hand on his chest. I shrugged, "They didn't seem so tough to me. We could have taken them on." and I smiled. Brynjolf did not follow my action, but walked on ahead of me. "Not the point, Asmiir." I heard him say quietly. 

My embarrassment folded inwards, and we continued on through the night in silence. 

                   It seemed like we'd been walking for hours now, and I'd almost given up and planted myself by the babbling waterfall when I saw a large waterwheel in the distance, the sure sign of civilization. As we came closer to it, and crossed a stone bridge, I wanted to laugh and cry all at once. 

So this was Riverwood.

                It was too dark to make out anything except buildings, gardens, and livestock, but it surprised me how small this little village was in size. 

                I'd known of Riverwood, but never actually stepped foot in the town; I'd escaped Helgen with Ralof, who I learned was a Stormcloak fighting the Empire and the Aldemeri Dominion, and had a sister named Gertrud in Riverwood who would house us for a few nights until we were ready to move on. Without even thinking, I declined his offer, and he only accepted my declination if I agreed to go to Whiterun and tell the Jarl to send over troops to protect it. I obliged, and went on my merry way afterwards. Riverwood was also where he said...

Well...nevermind that. 

                Before going into the inn, I took in the sky. No rain tomorrow, it seems, the voice said within me, and I nodded. "I suppose you're right." I agreed.

"Who'er you talking to, Lass?"

               I froze, quickly pasting on a smile and shaking my head. "Thinking about something that happened earlier. A man told me something, and I was supposing that he was right. Nothing too much."

               He seemed to buy into it enough that he let it be, but I scorned myself anyway. You should be more careful, little Asmiir, the voice warned as I walked inside. The attention was not welcome.

               We walked inside and asked for two rooms. Brynjolf bid me goodnight and, as soon as I laid my body to rest, I felt myself drift. 

                The next morning was bright and sunny, a perfect day for travel. 

                The village was buzzing with common folk energy, the blacksmith smithing near his home, the bard (whom I learned was called Sven) singing in cheery tunes. Even the children were out, running around with a dog that a boy claimed was his. I smiled; this was how simple life was supposed to look. And then, I frowned again. Riverwood. 

                "Why the long face, Lass?" I heard Brynjolf ask, leaning next to me against the wooded railings of the inn, looking out at the same scene that I saw. I felt my head shake involuntarily, "I remember hearing about this place once before. It's...alarming. Riverwood is exactly what they claimed it would be." I lowered my eyes. He had been right. 

Brynjolf looked at me blankly. "Oh? What happened to them, Lass?"

"Nothing."

                     I noticed Brynjolf was about to give me a sorry look and open his mouth in what I assumed was an apology, but I saw something in the corner of my eye move towards me--and stand there. Brynjolf seemed to notice too, and his face contorted into a mildly annoyed expression. "What do you want there, Elf?"

                     I didn't hear a direct answer to his question, so I didn't pay much attention to the soft "Don't you recognize me?" that drifted over to my ears like sweet music. I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, the clean and crisp mountain air from Bleak Falls Barrow mingling with the scent of a seared slaughterfish somewhere...

"I said, don't you recognize me, Asmiir?"

                     The way this person said my name was pleasant, almost as if I were a dear friend to them, or perhaps a little sister who had simply--

I whipped around.

                      I felt my knees shake and, for the first time, my footing was off. His white hair had turned gray in strands, but his sharp, hazel eyes had remained the same. 

"...Faendal?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yo Yo YO! It's your girl, back at it again with the Skyrim fanfiction!

Thanks for being so incredibly patient with this fanfiction! As lame as this excuse sounds, I'm a sophomore in college, and this semester has really sucked some huge Chaurus eggs, so my bad for the delay. 

If you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment what your favorite part was! And if you didn't, tell me what you didn't like about it!

Thanks again for being patient!

Updates to come! But until then, keep on misadventuring. Bon voyage!

~Ty