Hello, Journal. It is I, Steve the Khajiit, and you’ll never guess where I’m writing you from. Unless you guessed “a prison cell,” in which case you are correct. The guards have confiscated all of my items, except for a lockpick, my scroll and parchment, and trust me when I say you will be much better off if you do not ponder too hard how I managed to smuggle them in here.
So, you are undoubtedly wondering how I could be in such a predicament, when last I’d left you, I was borrowing my former captor’s uncle’s spare bed, and psyching myself up to be an emissary to Jarl Ball-Gruff about a possible dragon situation. (By the way, I’ve since learned that it’s spelled “Balgruuf,” which does seem less silly, but I find the pronunciation confusing.) Well, it’s a funny story. Perhaps not humorously so, but… I’m getting ahead of myself once more. So let me start with that morning, back in Riverwood.
When I woke up the next morning, Hadvar was making some sort of stew by the fire. It smelled good, but so far nobody had actually offered me food, just vague references to eventual food, so I didn’t hold my breath. Instead I licked my paws clean and took a brief look around the cottage of which I was a guest. Alvor had carlessly left gold lying on his table, and while I didn’t think it right to “rob” my gracious host, he did say that he was willing to help in any way he could, within reason. And I had plenty of reason to need coin, no doubt. So I slipped the coins into my pocket. I also saw “A Gentleman’s Guide To Whiterun,” which I also took, figuring it might help me navigate this new city.
I walked over to see what Hadvar was cooking, and I guess this made him uncomfortable so he began chatting. “It’s nice to be back in a friendly spot, huh?” If by friendly you mean “not being sentenced to death,” then yes, it was a nice change of pace. But I didn’t say this out loud, so he continued, “Listen, I’m going to lay up here for a while. You can make your own way to Solitude from here.” Apparently he thought I had any interest in going to this Solitude place of his. Or maybe he thought I had planned to follow him. And while I could find worse travelling companions to be sure, I was more of a lone… type. Not wolf, though that is the common phrase.
Seeking to fill the awkward silence, he babbled on. “I’d recommend heading to Whiterun.” Made sense, since that was where his uncle wanted me to go.
He said more, but I wasn’t listening, because a question of my own had popped into my head, something that had been nagging at me ever since I’d learned what was going on. “How did you capture Ulfric?”
Hadvar continued stirring and said, “A masterstroke by General Tullius! He’s only been in charge for a few months, but he’s turned things around for the Empire.” Yeah, yeah, okay, hail Tullius, and all that. “We’ve been trying to catch Ulfric since the war started, but he always seemed to slip through our fingers, like he knew we were coming. This time, General Tullius turned the tables on him. Ulfric rode right into our ambush, with only a few bodyguards. He surrendered pretty meekly, too. So much for his ‘death or glory’ reputation.”
Hmm. Something about that didn’t sound right to me. Almost like he knew he would be freed. Perhaps the reason the Keep was overflowing with Stormcloaks was because they were waiting to ambush the Imperials? And maybe the dragon ruined their plans to do so. I still wasn’t convinced the Stormcloaks had anything to do with that.
“I thought we were taking Ulfric back to Cyrodiil, but I guess the general changed his mind. You know the rest.” So, he didn’t really explain how they captured him, or why it worked this time. Except obviously it didn’t work, ultimately. Curious, that. But you know what they say about curiosity.
Alvor came in and laid down right where I’d been sleeping. Had I taken his spot last night? I was suddenly embarrassed, but it passed just as quickly. I was their guest, after all. I wandered downstairs to see if maybe I could find some more supplies within reason, and ran into Sigrid and her daughter Dorothe. Sigrid was leaning against a counter like a barkeep, only there was armor and weaponry instead of drinks. With a little work it would have made for a nice little storefront.
I grabbed some bowls of troll fat, and dumped them into my bag. I had no idea why I would need troll fat, but… sometimes my desire to pilfer things outweighs my common sense. There were some more valuable items, but my gut told me that if I were to take them and wasn’t careful, I would officially wear out my welcome. Assuming I hadn’t already.
I went back upstairs and made myself some potato soup, since nobody was going to feed me any time soon. You might be wondering what any of this has to do with my current imprisonment, and you’d be right to think that it has nothing to do with it. I’m just providing contrast for later, by establishing how incredibly mundane my day was when it started. You’ll thank me for the context later, maybe.
I will spare you further details of my dilly-dallying; just know that I wasted far too much time mucking about in their home. I wasn’t in a hurry to head to Whiterun, if I’m being perfectly honest. Promise of indebtedness or not, I did not fancy getting embroiled in whatever politics were going on in this land, whether a dragon had anything to do with it or not. I did find it odd that the dragon interrupted my execution, of all things. Surely it could have chosen other targets. In a weird way, I felt grateful toward the dragon, though I’m not claiming it deliberately chose me or anything. After all, I’m no one special. But eventually I did leave, mainly because I didn’t want to stick around while Sigrid argued with Dorothe about helping her with chores.
As I stepped outside, It suddenly occurred to me that I still had all of Riverwood to satisfy my procrastination needs, so there was no need for me to laze about in the blacksmith’s home. In fact, two places caught my eye immediately, the Sleeping Giant Inn, and some store whose sign I couldn’t read from this angle. I walked up to get a better view. “Riverwood Trader.” Can’t get much more generic than that.
But first I would check out the tavern. Or inn. Whatever. They sold mead, probably, and if I was lucky, I could try one of those sweetrolls I’d heard so much about. Mmmm.... sweetrolls. Hopefully somebody wouldn’t mind if I stole theirs.
When I walked in, the place was dead, probably because it was only seven in the morning. I heard a woman’s voice from the opposite end of the room yelling for someone named “Ognar.”Appaprently their ale was going bad, so I made a note not to buy any from here. I was also inexplicably expecting Ognar to be an orc, but as it turned out, he was human. Ah well. I was hoping to meet an Orc at some point. Maybe later.
I was about to ask the barkeep if he’d heard any rumors, when the woman from before interjected, nagging him about frying up potatoes to go with their crappy ale. He didn’t want to do it right then, probably because there were no customers except for me, and this seemed to tick her off. Feeling weirdly magnanimous, I decided to give Ognar a break by bothering her myself.
I was about to introduce myself, but she cut me off before I had the chance. “So you’re the visitor who’s been poking about.” On the contrary, I have not yet begun to poke. Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Heard any rumors?”
“They say a dragon attacked Helgen,” she said, not even trying to hide her disbelief. “Sounds like hogwash to me.” I wasn’t sure what washing swine had to do with it, but I was guessing she was being sarcastic or something. I did not pretend to understand the nuances of Nord speech, but I was a fast learner.
Rethinking my decision to chat with her, I turned instead to Ognar. Barkeeps are usually better about rumor-mongering. I asked him the same rumors question. Hopefully he had more than dragon information that I already knew.
He leaned forward conspiratorily and said, “There are whispers… A boy… Up in Windhelm… Aventus Aretino. Been trying to contact…” and here his voice became even more serious, “The Dark Brotherhood.”
Oh-kay, I thought, taking a step back. I didn’t know what any of that meant, and yet it was still somehow too much information. Perhaps if I ever found myself in this ‘Windhelm,” and happened upon a boy by that name, I might ask him who in Oblivion is The Dark Brotherhood. I seemed to vaguely recall something about an assassin group that might have had a name like that, but surely that couldn’t be what he meant.
Feeling weirded out by the inn and its workers, I decided to leave and check out the nearby store.
As soon as I walked in, I realized I had walked in on the middle of something. A woman said, “Well, one of us has to do something!”
A raspy-voice gentleman with a goatee angrily responded, “I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!”
The woman folded her arms and countered, “Well, what are you going to do then, huh? Let’s hear it!”
I considered slipping back out the door, but I was slightly intrigued by what they were arguing about, so I stayed until they were done talking about this.
“We are done talking about this!” Said the goateed raspy man. Ah well. Then suddenly they saw me standing there, and he said, “Oh! A customer. Sorry you had to hear that.” Then the woman walked over to a nearby chair, sat down, and silently stared off angrily into space, while the man sat behind his counter, staring defiantly into a different space. The silence was unbearable, so I walked up to the man, who then said to me, “I don’t know what you overheard, but Riverwood Trader is still open. Feel free to shop!”
I asked what he had for sale, and he said “Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that.” Which wasn’t very helpful, so I just looked at what he had on display. I had to admit, he had quite a diverse selection for one shop; everything from potatoes to magic robes. I suppose one must cover all their bases when they’re the only store in the village. He even had a book on how to raise zombies. I’m not sure why one would want to do that, but I guess if you were going to, a book would be helpful. I imagine they grow up so fast.
I didn’t have a lot of gold, and he didn’t really have anything I wanted right now, so I just thanked him and turned to walk away, when he suddenly blurted, “Damn thieves! As if things weren’t bad enough.” I know thieves aren’t generally beloved, but this sudden unprovoked slam on my profession caught me off-guard, so I turned back to him and asked, “Did something happen?”
The man replied, “Er, yeah, we did have a bit of a… break-in. But we still have plenty to sell! Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon’s claw.”
Solid gold? I listened a bit more intently, but that seemed to be the end of his story. I looked over at the woman, hoping for more information, but all she said was “Maybe you can talk some sense into my pig-headed brother.” I assumed the man with the goatee was her pig-headed brother, otherwise it was a rather weird thing for her to say.
I was interested in acquiring the claw for myself, but I didn’t know where to look. But perhaps the man would tell me if I offered to ‘help.’ So I turned back to him and said, “I could help you get your claw back.” Though really, what were they doing with a gold dragon’s claw? It made no sense. This was not the place for such extravagance.
“You could? I’ve got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It’s yours if you bring my claw back.” Yes. IF I bring it back. “Now if you’re going to get those thieves, you should go to Bleak Falls Barrow, Northwest of town.” Oh, so the nightmare-generating mountain structure that scares even military folk? Great.
The woman didn’t look happy. “So this is your plan, Lucan?” Technically I think it was my plan.
Lucan replied, “Yes. So now you don’t have to go, do you.” Look, don’t drag me into this.
“Oh, really? Well I think your new helper here needs a guide.” I really don’t.
Lucan became flustered. “Wh– no, I– oh, by the Eight. Fine! But only to the edge of town!” Um, I definitely could find the edge of town on my own, thanks.
His sister stood up from her seat, walked over to the door, and left without another word. So… I guess we were doing this now. Fine.
As I stepped outside, his sister was already talking (and still hadn’t told me her name, but I suspected it was Camilla, for some reason.) “We have to go through town and across the bridge to get to Bleak Falls Barrow.”
The town was literally a dirt path with buildings on either side, and I could see the bridge from there. It hardly warranted a guide, but I decided to humor her and her brother.
As if sensing my keen grasp of the obvious, she continued, “You can see it from here, though; the mountain just over the buildings.” As we walked, she added, “Those thieves must be mad, hiding out there. Those old crypts are filled with nothing but traps, trolls, and who knows what else!” I wondered how she would know any of that, since her brother wouldn’t even let her go past the edge of town.
We paused briefly as a chicken crossed the road. (As for why, don’t ask me.) She then said, “I wonder why they only stole Lucan’s golden claw? I mean, we have plenty of things in the shop that are worth just as much coin.”
Silently, I thought to myself, No offense, but have you seen your store? Yes, you have some nice things, but a lot of the nice things are bulky things, whereas a solid gold claw is probably nicely portable and can be melted down. If it had been me, I’d have just grabbed the claw and ran, too. In fact, that was my current plan, I just had to get it from the people who currently held it. I didn’t normally steal from other thieves, but this claw sounded interesting enough to go through the trouble. Plus I could get a reward for its return, and then steal it again, if I wanted to double-dip. Or I could just not return with it, they’d assume I failed or died, and sell it elsewhere. Or in Elswyer.
“Lucan found the claw about a year after he opened the store,” she explained to me as though I cared. “He never quite explained where he got it. He’s a tricky one.” So for all she knew, these thieves could have been the original owners.
After what felt like an eternity of idle chatter, we reached the bridge that led out of town. She turned to me and said, “This is the bridge out of town.” Whoa, slow down! I can’t keep up. “The path up the mountain to the northwest leads to Bleak Falls Barrow.” I nodded, as if receiving new or helpful information, though not really. “I guess I should get back to my brother. He’ll throw a fit if I take too long. Such a child…“
I silently wished her good luck in her toxic sibling relationship, and waited for her to get out of my way so I could head over the bridge. After an awkward pause, I started to ask her to move, when she suddenly blurted, “Mara bless you for agreeing to help us.” Awww, don’t start making me feel guilty for my plans, lady! “Good luck, Lucan and I will be waiting for you back in the shop.” Uh-huh. I sighed, and headed across the bridge.
You might be wondering, Journal, (if you were capable of thought, that is), when do I get arrested? Well, I’m coming to that. It was a long day, once again, so this wasn’t an incident that happened right after breakfast. First there was my trip to Bleak Falls Barrow. Which, in case you’re wondering, I would not recommend. But more on that next entry. I heard a guard coming, so I need to briefly hide this… somewhere. I am sorry.
Sincerely,
Steve
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