A Stranger in Skyrim 10

Chapter Ten: Jarl Balgruuf

In which an adventuring career is started by accident.

The man was blond. He wore a circlet that, taken together with his rich, yet practical clothing, served as a reminder of his power. He sat in a rather plain chair, carved with simple decorations; if she hadn't known he was the Jarl, and if it had occupied any other space than the raised dais it rested upon, she might not have guessed it to be a small throne.

The dark-skinned elf spoke a handful of words to the Jarl. He sat up straighter, his eyes fixing on Mariah. Once again, she felt small.

His voice, she imagined, would carry throughout his throne room. She knew he was addressing her directly, although she herself had lost the ability to look up at him. “So,” he began, “you were at Helgen? You saw this ... dragon … with your own eyes?”

“The Imperials were about to execute Ulfric Stormcloak for his treason,” she said cautiously, peeking up at him. A part of her wished suddenly that she had bangs to hide her face. She left out the part where she had actually been next for the block; he didn't need to know that, and it wouldn't help her standing. “Then, the dragon attacked. It destroyed the whole town in minutes, at most.”

He shook his head. “Hnh. I should have guessed Ulfric would be mixed up in this.” He turned his attention to the man on his right, then. “What do you say now, Proventus? Should we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?” Having seen the walls herself, Mariah knew that she wouldn't trust in their protection.

“My lord,” the 'housecarl' (whatever that was) began, “we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains ….”

The fancy-robed man on the Balgruuf's right protested this course of action in a rather whiny tone. “The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him! We should not – ”

“Enough!” the Jarl snapped. “I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!” He turned his attention to the elf. “Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”

She put her hand to her chest in an odd sort of salute. “Yes, my Jarl.” The elf walked off, then, presumably to attend to that detail.

“If you'll excuse me,” Proventus said with some resignation, “I'll return to my duties.”

The Jarl returned his attention to the man. “That would be best.” Proventus, too, went on his way.

“Well done,” the Jarl said, and she felt his eyes on her again. She glanced up, to see him smiling at her. The smile made him look surprisingly handsome. “You sought me out, on your own initiative.”

She opened her mouth to speak, to protest that she was only following directions. He waved his hand. “You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it.” He beckoned a servant over, murmuring a couple of words to the man, who trotted off promptly. “There must be something suitable for a wizard in my armory; I've instructed him to find something for you. A gift, for your service.”

The Jarl seemed to be considering something, then. She waited; whatever it was, he'd get to it, or not, in his own time. “There is another thing you could do for me,” he said, finally. “I believe it will be … suitable … for someone of your particular talents, perhaps.” He stood, then. “Come.” He began walking, so she followed. “Let us find my court wizard, Farengar. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons, and rumors of dragons.”

He led her to a room just off the side of the throne room. It smelled a bit of lavender, and something else she couldn't identify. Inside, a hooded, robed man was laboring over a circular table with various glass beakers and vials that bubbled with greenish goop.

“Farengar,” the Jarl began. “I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill her in with all the details.”

“Of course, Jarl Balgruuf,” the man replied. “She looks … capable, at least.”

The Jarl turned his attention to her once more. “Succeed at this, and you will be rewarded. Whiterun will be in your debt.” Well hell. So now she was some kind of adventurer, apparently. At least, as far as the Jarl of Whiterun was concerned; who was she to argue? Especially since, while she stood there in confusion, he began to walk off, no doubt headed back to his own duties.

“So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?” Farengar asked, dragging her attention back to him. “Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me.” He tapped his chin, thoughtfully, as he looked her over. “Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may, or may not, actually be there.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Okay, I'll bite. What does this tablet have to do with dragons?”

“Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker – perhaps even a scholar?” He smiled warmly at her, then continued. “You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities.” He shook his head, disgusted. “One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside of his experience as impossible. I began to search for information about dragons. Where had they gone, all those years ago? And, where were they coming from now?”

“And this tablet has something to do with the dragons?”

He nodded. “Right. I learned of this stone tablet, a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. It's supposed to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow. So, what I need for you to do, is to go to Bleak Falls Barrow. Once there, I want you to find the Dragonstone, no doubt interred in the main chamber, and bring it back to me. Simplicity itself.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about Bleak Falls Barrow?” Since it was supposed to be a dangerous ruin, she thought it would be best to be forewarned.

Another nod. “It's an old tomb, built by the ancient nords. They were master craftsmen. Apparently, many of the traps that protect their burial sites remain functional to this day. Did you need directions?”

“I'm sure someone in Riverwood can point me in the right direction.” She smiled, shaking her head. “I'm curious, though. How do you know this stone tablet is in Bleak Falls Barrow?”

He looked slightly guilty, muttering. “Well, must preserve some professional secrets, mustn't we? I have my sources. Reliable sources.”

She looked him over. He was supposed to be the court wizard, right? He'd know the answer to her biggest question, she was sure. “Where can I learn more about magic?”

“A prospective student, are you?” He took in the robe she wore, apparently seeing it for the first time. “Well, I'm afraid I'm not much good at teaching. You should try your luck at the college of Winterhold.”

“Okay … Where is Winterhold, from here?”

He pointed to the map that took up a large chunk of his study. “It's far to the northeast. If you're headed up that way, pack some warm clothing. The cold has been known to kill people.”

“Do you have any old spellbooks, maybe? I just want to learn.”

He looked at her, thoughtfully. “Well, I have a bit of a library. I'd be willing to part with some choice spellbooks, if you have the coin to cover their cost.”

She bit her lip. “I don't think … I've only got a hundred or so gold pieces.”

“Ah. Well … I do have one book you could have. I'm not going to get any more use out of it, you might as well take it. It's pretty basic; just a cantrip to call fire, really.” She looked up at him, hopefully. “Yes, I could part with that for no charge.”

She smiled brightly up at him, and he ducked his head, looking rather embarrassed. He shuffled off into a side room, returning with a dog-eared book with a picture of a flaming hand on the front.

“Here you go.”

She took it in both hands, looking down at it in wonder. Hugging it to her chest, she looked up at him again. “Thank you.”

“Now, off to Bleak Falls Barrow with you. The Jarl is not a patient man.”

She headed out of Dragonsreach then, noting absently that the downhill was significantly easier than the uphill. Humming to herself, she opened one of the big doors, and walked out into the cool night air.

She all but skipped down the hill, finding herself at the big tree again. The girl was there, waiting. “You came!” She smiled brightly. “I didn't think you would, but you came back!”

“Well, I promised, didn't I?” She smiled, in return. “So, what's your name, anyway?”

“Lucia, ma'am.”

She grinned softly. “Lucia Ma'am, hm? That's an odd last name you've got there.”

The girl giggled, in return.

“No, but seriously, don't call me 'ma'am.' It makes me feel old.” She continued to smile.

Lucia tilted her head to the side. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-two. I'll be twenty-three in August.” Assuming, of course, that she lived until August, anyway. She sighed softly.

The girl blinked, looking at her oddly. “August?”

“... Right. Just … sometime in the summer.” She shook her head. Even the months were different? Really? And whatever power let her talk Skyrim-ish, didn't conveniently translate her meaning? Bah.

Lucia nodded. “Okay. So … what's your name?”

“Mariah.”

She smiled again. “That's a pretty name.”

“People seem to think so, yes. They call the wind Mariah, did you know that?” Technically, that was a 'fact' made up by a songwriter, as near as she could tell, but really, who was going to tell a little girl from Skyrim that an American songwriter lied to make his song pretty?

The girl sat back down on the bench, kicking her feet a little. “Really? Who calls it that?”

“People do. Back where I'm from, I mean.”

She tilted her head to the other side. “Where are you from?”

“It's called America,” she explained. “You won't have heard of it.

The girl looked thoughtful. “Okay.”

She found herself yawning – it had been an eventful day! – and looked down at the girl. “Do you know where I can sleep for the night?”

“That's easy. There's a big inn called the Bannered Mare down a ways from here. Miss Hulda lets me sleep by the fire, sometimes. She's really nice.”

Another yawn, she covered her mouth with her free hand. “Show me?”

The girl stood, taking her hand, and together, they walked to the inn.