Rise of House Sigeweald Book One (Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter Four: Locked toward the Future

She should have taken a nap.

To be sure, the journey to Whiterun started well enough.  The food and rest at Gurder and Hod’s had energized her and after she stocked up on elixirs at the Riverwood Trader she made her way up the north road.  The weather was clear and cool and she walked steadily, knowing she had to make good time but not wear herself down.  Indeed, it wasn’t long before she felt weary but she pressed on, quietly singing to distract from the pain in her legs and the heavy feeling in her chest.

Aw! Come now, I’ll sing you a song,

‘Tis a song of right merry intent,

Concerning a silly old man,

Who went for to pay his rent,

Singing, Too-ra-la-loo-ra-loo.

She heard the wolves before she saw them and guessed, correctly, that there were three.  It had been a long time since a pack of wolves had given her trouble.   Bears and saber cats could sometimes be a challenge—particularly if they took her by surprise.  But she was not surprised, she was exhausted and it took her longer than usual to kill them.  In the end she was heavily scratched and the last one bit her on the arm before she was able to stick him in the throat.

And as this here silly old man,

Was riding along the lane,

A Gentleman thief overtook him,

Saying ‘Well over-taken old man.’

The bite on her arm was easily healed with a spell but the attack had taken a lot out of her.  Her muscles were quivering and before long, she was literally crawling on her hands and knees along the road—exhausted but still determined in her quest.  She had gone through the bread and cheese that Hod had packed for her and three full bottles of stamina elixir before she realized that she was likely too far gone for potions and food.  She needed sleep and she needed it now.  She pushed along until she found a small patch of grass just off the road.  She lay down and curled her knees up to her chest and continued to sing quietly:

And as this here silly old man,

Was riding along the lane,

A Gentleman thief overtook him,

Saying ‘Well—

When she heard voices coming up the road she gasped and immediately stopped singing and shut her eyes, cursing the gods that she had not learned more illusion spells.  If they didn’t look downward, they might not see her.

“So why’d you join the Legion?”

“My father was a Legionnaire, and his before him. I guess I never considered doing anything else.”

Their voices lowered to murmuring but Elspeth could hear them shuffling around very close.  Then she felt the brunt of a boot softly nudging her leg.  She opened her eyes slowly.  Three legionnaires and a Stormcloak prisoner were standing in front of her.  Elspeth craned her neck to see if the prisoner was Ralof.  When she saw that it wasn’t, she breathed a sigh of relief and put her head back down.

“Svend, she seems to be alive.  Can we get moving now?  If we’re late to the camp the legate’s gonna have our asses on the spit roast tonight.”

The soldier who had nudged her leg knelt by her and asked if she was okay.  As she shook her head no, he looked her over.  When he saw the standard leather armor, the legion issued boots, and the bracers that looked suspiciously identical to the ones being worn by their prisoner, he paused and then said to his comrades, “Go ahead.  I’ll catch up.”