Skyrim One-Shots (FT: My Travellers Of Tamriel)

Erlirria Meets Lucien

Erlirria ran down the steps from Dragonsreach into the second-highest district, finding herself overshadowed by the giant dead tree again.
Lucia perked up as she past, giving her a wave.
"Hi, Lady! Thank you for the gold again!"

"You're welcome, hope it helps!" Erlirria responded, giving her a wave back.
The Khajiit continued on her way and walked down to the market, counting the coin she had received from the Jarl after her errand.
"Khajiit!"

A Nord man saw her and gave her a wave, gesturing for her to come over.
"You again! Did you deliver your news to the Jarl?" He asked.
"I did! I have another errand to do, but that can wait for later. What did you want to talk to me about, sir-?" She took out her hand. He shook it firmly.

"Jon, Jon Battle-Born." He announced. "And you?"
"Erlirria Daro. A pleasure."
"I was simply going to ask what your business here is Whiterun was. Don't usually see Khajiits inside the walls, after all." He said, glancing at the sword on her belt.

"Nothing bad, I assure you. I run errands and odd jobs for people, have been doing since I was old enough to carry a weapon." She stated.
Jon smiled, giving a friendly laugh.
"The world could use more people like you, Erlirria. If there's anything you need, just say the word."

"There's one thing I'd like to ask you, actually."
Jon raised an eyebrow, "Ask away, friend."
"Where can I get a drink around here?" The Khajiit grinned

"Ha! The most important question of all. You'll want the Bannered Mare. See Hulda, she'll keep you swimmin' in mead. But mind the bard, Mikael. Poncy little milk drinker, that one."
Erlirria smiled at his answer, then smirked at his insult.
Her tail waved around behind her and she found her mood become playful.

"I take it you don't like Mikael?" She prodded.
Jon scoffed and laughed at once.
"Man gives bards a bad name. We Nords have a long history as warrior poets. I am proud to count myself among them. But Mikael... He sings only for gold and the affections of wenches. He dishonors our traditions."

"I see. Well, thank you Jon. I must be off." She bid him farewell and approached the Inn, briefly looking at the wooden swing sign.
"The Bannered Mare." She mumbled as she approached the door and opened.
She was greeted with the warm draft of a hearthfire and the calm atmosphere of a tavern.

The air filled with the sound of a strumming lute and chatter amongst patrons.
Erlirria loved taverns dearly, a place to relax after adventures and talk with fellow travellers.
She walked past the fire and up to the bar, swinging her legs around a seat and wrapping her tail around one of the legs.

The innkeeper approached her, the one Erlirria assumed was Hulda.
She was a woman who was noticeably beginning to age, with lightly-defined wrinkles and cracked lips showing in the dim firelight.
Dull grey eyes reduced to squinted slits. She was cleaning a metal tankard with a rag as she walked over.

"Drink?" Hulda asked.
"Honningbrew Mead and a sweetroll, please." She stated, fishing gold from her coin purse to hand to the woman.
"Coming right up, ma'am." The woman turned to go through her supply as the Khajiit waited patiently, preening her claws as a past-time.

An Orc took the stool next to her, clearly he had had too much to drink as he clutched a half-empty bottle and couldn't sit still without swaying.
His drunkenness did not seem to be of benefit to him as he made a poor decision next.
He decided to poke a cat.

"Hey, you. Khajiit." He spat.
Erlirria rolled her eyes in his direction, the fur of her tail bristled.
"Skyrim is no place for your kind. You should go back to Elsweyr, where you belong."

Hulda returned with her mead and a sweetroll on a silver plate, setting both down on the bar as she turned to the Orc.
"Something I can get you?" She asked.
"No, no. I'm fine." He waved her away, the woman turning to go to the back storage room.