A Stranger in Skyrim 17

Chapter Seventeen: Turning In

In which Dragonstone juggling becomes an Olympic sport.

She made it back to Riverwood, still carrying the Dragonstone in both hands.

People looked at her a little strangely as she walked up to the Riverwood Trader, but no one stopped her to ask what she was doing, a fact for which she was infinitely grateful. She leaned the stone on the wall, then opened the door, then propped the door open with her foot, then collected the Dragonstone, then entered the building.

“That is not my claw,” Lucan announced.

She smiled. “No, it isn't. But, I do have your claw.”

“You – you found it?” He sounded unbelievably eager.

She nodded, walking up to the counter and depositing the Dragonstone on it. That done, she swung her backpack around. The golden claw was resting on top of a pile of gold. She held it out for him with a flourish and a smile.

“There it is!” He laughed, taking it in both hands. “Strange, it seems ... smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh?”

She nodded.

“I'm going to put this back where it belongs. I-I'll never forget this.” He smiled, looking down at the claw. He rested it on the countertop. “You've done a great thing for me and my sister.”

Another nod. “So about that coin … ?”

“Yes, yes, here it is.” He produced a large sack of gold, setting it on the counter next to her backpack.

She continued to smile, opening it up and peeking inside. “Thanks.” Collecting her things, she headed for the door. She needed food and water, and then she'd head out again.

The next building over was the inn; she headed that way.

A part of her thought she might be able to beg for something from Alvor and Sigrid, but no. She'd imposed on them enough already.

“You there – ” A blond man in a yellow vest stopped her on her way to the inn. “Were you – were you talking to Camilla Valerius, just now?”

She blinked, tilted her head to the side. “Uhm. Who?”

“Camilla Valerius. Lucan's sister?”

She was supposed to know that? “Oh. Uh … no. I had business with Lucan.”

“I see … ” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Well … could you deliver a message for me?”

Buh. She just looked at him. “Depends. Will I get paid to play courier?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I've got some money I've saved up from working at the mill. It's yours – if you deliver one little letter for me.” He held up a note for her.

She eyed the note. “And what's the catch?”

“The catch? There's no catch. Just tell her the letter's from Faendal. Come back, and tell me how it goes. All right?”

She nodded. “Just put it on top of the stone.”

“All right. And – thank you.” He smiled, waved, and wandered off.

The fuck had that all been about, anyway?

She shrugged slightly, entering the inn. The fire was warm, the stone floor covered by large fur rugs. She smelled meat cooking on the spit, and her mouth instantly started to water. She set her burden down on the counter, looking up at the man behind it. “How much does it cost to get some meat?”

“Say … twenty-six gold.”

She nodded, fishing in the sack until she collected the money needed and set it on the counter.

The man nodded to her, in return, and went to the spit. He cut a leg off the animal roasting there, walked back, and handed it to her.

She began to eat, hungrily devouring the meat off the bone. It was delicious, at any rate.

“Where's the innkeeper?” she asked, idly.

The man shrugged. “Out. She owns the place, she does what she wants.”

“So ... how would I rent a room?” She tore off a big chunk of meat with her teeth, chewed, swallowed.

Another shrug. “Inn's closed,” he said simply. “Bar's still open though. Feel free to sit and put your head down on the table for as long as you like. I won't bother ya.”

“Sure. Maybe I'll take you up on that.” She smiled.

When she finally finished gorging herself on the animal-of-some-description, she left the bone on a plate and headed out of the inn. Back to the Riverwood Trader, she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Hello, hello! Did you need something else, friend?”

She smiled at Lucan. “Actually, I need to talk to your sister.” She turned to look at Camilla, who'd been enjoying some tea by the fire.

“Oh, all right.”

She shifted the stone around so she was holding it one-handed, its weight mostly resting on her hip. She held out the letter for Camilla. “Your friend – blond hair, blue eyes, kind of tallish – wanted you to have this. I think he said his name was Faendal?”

“No … ” The woman frowned. “Faendal is a wood elf. He's got dark hair and eyes, like most of his people.”

“Right, well then. Your friend wanted you to think Faendal wrote this.”

The woman shook her head, looking a bit confused. “Sven wanted me to … What's in that letter?” Camilla took the letter from her, reading it over. Whatever was in the letter made her eyes widen a little bit. “Oh – oh my. He wanted me to think Faendal wrote this? Thank you for telling me the truth. Could you talk to Faendal as well? I'm sure he'll want to thank you for standing up for him.”

Considering she'd apparently just blown her chance at yellow-shirt's life savings, she might as well. A slight shrug, and she resumed holding the Dragonstone in both hands. “Sure. Where is he, do you know?”

“He'll be working at the mill. Tell him I asked him to come over when he's done, all right?”

Another shrug. “Why not?”

So she walked out of the Riverwood Trader again, headed across the wooden bridge to the lumbermill proper. She found the elf chopping wood. “Hey,” she called. “Faendal, right?”

“Ye-es?” The elf paused for a moment. “Can I help you?”

She nodded, walking up behind him. “Camilla wants to see you tonight. Apparently, some guy named Sven was trying to make you look bad.”

“Oh, really?” He looked confused. “And … how do you fit into all this, friend?”

She shifted the weight of the Dragonstone slightly. “Me? I'm just the messenger. Sven handed me the letter, tried to pass it off as your handwriting. So, I told her what was doing.”

“You don't know what this means to me. If my heart didn't already belong to Camilla, I'd kiss you. Instead … how about some gold for your trouble?”

A bright smile. “Honestly, the gold will do me more good.”

“I thought it might.” He responded with a smile of his own, adding a small coinpurse off his belt to her load.

The trip back to Whiterun was uneventful. She caught herself yawning – when had she even woken up?

Ah well. She'd make it to Whiterun, rest up in the Bannered Mare, and then take the Dragonstone to Farengar in the morning. She passed a small crowd of people in the market on her way to the inn. Ignoring them, she did the awkward Dragonstone-juggling act to open the door, edged inside. Only a small handful of people were hanging out in the inn. Most of them looked like tough warrior types. Serving as the entertainment was a blond man with a stringed instrument – a lute, maybe? – singing a song about killing Stormcloaks.

Good times. “I'd like to rent a room,” she managed around a large yawn. “Here's the fee.” She counted out a hundred gold pieces of Lucan's reward money, carefully stacking them on the counter beside the Dragonstone.

“You know the way.” Hulda smiled, collecting the coin.

Mariah took her things up to the room she'd rented. She didn't remember setting anything down, exactly. She just collapsed on the bed, and that was that.