Frostbite - a TES:V Skyrim Fanfiction Series

10 - Small Voices

Isaac shoved himself through the door of the first building he could see and collapsed onto the floor. Wood, oh, how good it felt under his ... well, his everything.

After Windhelm's enormous metal gates had groaned and clanked shut behind him, he'd been relieved to find that the wind mostly died off. The city's thick, high walls created a basin in which its inhabitants could crawl around in the narrow streets, safe from being gusted over every few seconds.

And, indeed, Windhelm's streets were narrow, its buildings tall, and everything was made of stone. It was frigid, unwelcoming stone that sucked the life out of everything around it.

Isaac moaned, his face pressed against the smooth floorboards. He flexed fingers on a right hand he wasn't sure belonged him. They moved slowly and painfully, but they moved. He placed the hand flat on the floor next to his head and pushed himself up into a kneeling position. He blinked hard, yawned, and wiped his nose – his hand came away wet.

Someone cleared their throat, and Isaac looked up to see three people staring down at him, each plastered with an expression of shock.

"Oh," Isaac, said and coughed. "Hello there. Sorry, had a bit of a rough day." He stood on shaky legs, and their eyes followed him.

A woman shook herself out of her confusion and started forward. Her arm went to his and she held him steady.

"Suzanna," said a shrill voice, "Don't touch the man, you don't know where he's been!"

"Oh, quiet, Elda, can't you see he's freezing to death? He needs to lie down."

"I don't," Isaac said.

"I'll ... go check to see if there's a room free," said a warmer though still uncertain male voice.

"I'm fine, I'm-" Isaac tried to remove the woman's grip from his arm, but as his fingers touched hot skin, she flinched away.

"Ouch! Your hands are cold!"

"I'm sorry! I'm-"

Between the younger woman's insistence and the elder's complaining, they bundled him down a low-ceilinged corridor and into a side room.

The younger woman – Suzanna – sat him down on a bed. "Take those wet boots off or you'll get frostbite."

The man reappeared and pushed two things into his hands, one hot and one cold. Isaac looked down and saw a bowl of some lumpy steaming broth, and a heavy iron tankard of a dark liquid. He took a swig of the tanker first, and the bitter ale tasted like heaven, and caused him to shiver when he swallowed it.

The man laughed a strong, chesty laugh, and said: "That's my good man!"

"You're all crazy!" Said the older woman. She threw her hands up in dismay and walked out of the room.

Isaac blinked and finally took in the scene before him: the room was small – the bed took up one entire wall. Around it stood a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet that looked like a wardrobe, and a few smaller shelves and containers. The younger woman who knelt down on the floor in front of him wore braided blonde hair that curled down around her collar and a revealing corset and dress that he was surprised she could bare in such a place. The man stood further back by the door, his arms crossed across a long, quilted coat that buttoned at his centre. A lopsided furry hat sat atop his head, and he looked down at Isaac through a weathered, handsome, bearded face. Both were tall and athletic, and in a lot of ways reminded Isaac of Annekke.

"Don't mind Elda," the man said with a friendly, if not concerned, smile. "She's grumpy at the best of times."

Isaac blinked and looked between them. "I assume this isn't charity."