A Stranger in Skyrim 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Housecarl

In which Lydia is introduced.

The servant began to lead her toward the armory, as instructed by the Jarl. After a moment's hesitation, though, she reached out to grab the man's arm. "I know he expects me to pick out some armor but - that's not going to do me much good. Do you suppose I could select my rewards from the library instead?" 

"Of course, my Thane." The servant bowed slightly, changing direction. 

In the end, she made off with four dog-eared books, all spell tomes that Farengar helped her to pick out. Well - all except one. The thin black book she selected for herself, no one had seen her slip into her pocket. Flipping through it briefly had been enough to catch her interest, and damn it, she'd earned every bit of the reward she picked out. 

As she made to leave Dragonsreach, arms straining a little under the heavy tomes she'd selected, a black-haired woman in full plate approached her. "Can I help you?" Mariah asked, shifting the weight of the books in her arms. 

"Ah, my Thane. I am Lydia, and I am to be your housecarl." She bowed, formally. 

A pause as she processed that. "So - you're some kind of bodyguard, then?" 

"I - suppose you could put it like that. As you are my Thane, I am sworn to protect you, and all you own, with my life." The woman regarded her uncertainly. 

She nodded. "Could you help with these?" She offered Lydia the stack of books, intending for the stronger woman to take only a couple of them. 

"I am also sworn to carry your burdens … " The woman looked resigned as she took the stack. 

Mariah smiled. "Thanks. So - what all am I supposed to do as a Thane, if I may?" 

"To be a Thane is - it's an honor to be named such. There aren't really many duties or responsibilities; you've been recognized for the service that you've already given Whiterun. You're an important person here, a hero. Guards will even look the other way, if you tell them who you are." 

She ducked her head, embarrassed, as she headed for the door. "I don't think that'll be a problem, you know?" She really wasn't a career criminal - why did everyone assume she was? 

"Of course, my Thane." Mariah held the door open for Lydia. "What are we doing today?" 

"Well - I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous for a day or two; doctor's orders." She headed down the steps and across the waterway. There was a man there, standing in front of a shrine. He was shouting about Talos - wasn't that one of the Divines? 

Curious, she listened in. Maybe she'd learn something. 

"Aye, love, love!" The man shouted. "Even as man, great Talos cherished us. For he saw in us, in each of us, the future of Skyrim! The future of Tamriel!" He paused for a moment, for breath, taking a swig out of a flask that - she could only assume - contained some kind of alcohol. Drinking on the job, pfeh. "And there it is, friends! The ugly truth! We are the children of man! Talos is the true god of man! Ascended from flesh, to rule the realm of spirit!" 

He shook his head, angry. "The very idea is inconceivable to our Elven overlords! Sharing the heavens with us? With man? Ha! They can barely tolerate our presence on earth!" He spat on the ground, an indication of his disgust.  

"Today, they take away your faith. But what of tomorrow? Do the elves take your homes? Your businesses? Your children? Your very lives? And what does the Empire do? Nothing! Nay, worse than nothing! The Imperial machine enforces the will of the Thalmor! Against its own people!" 

It was food for thought, and she stood, listening to the entire lecture. She wasn't the only one. He was urging the Stormcloak rebels on, recruiting for them, it seemed. She had little interest in religion, but she didn't think it right, that this Empire was oppressing a people for a difference of opinion such as that. She'd read all about that kind of thing on Earth. She'd have to watch her step - it wasn't her war, but it was stupid to ignore the political climate. 

"Is this war as bad as it sounds?" She asked Lydia as they walked away. 

The woman looked at her, thoughtful, as she nodded once. "It's torn families apart. Old allies have turned to hated enemies over this - it's not quite open warfare yet, but everyone knows it's building up to it. And when it does …." Lydia shook her head. 

"Everyone will suffer. Not just these Stormcloaks, not just the Empire, but the average person, too. I want no part in that. War just isn't worth the cost." 

"Truly, there is nothing you value so much you would fight for it?" A raised eyebrow. 

Mariah shook her head. "It's not like that. I just - I think people should try to get along, despite their differences. Life is too precious to throw away like that." 

Lydia laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. "Things must be different, where you come from." 

"They really aren't." She sighed softly. "They really aren't." 

--- 

Mariah sat down on one of the benches near the temple of Kynareth. "Set those down - " She gestured for Lydia to set the books next to her. "I won't get any better if I don't study," she explained, taking the first heavy tome. Conjuration basics - Summoning for Dummies, it might as well have been titled. 

"You're a wizard, then?" Lydia asked it dubiously. 

She laughed. "Well, I'm trying to be. It's pretty much endless studying, as far as I can tell. But - I can do this," she summoned lightning to her fingertips, dancing the sparks across the back of her hand. "So it's worth it, in the end." 

Lydia watched with some interest. "We don't have a lot of wizards here in Whiterun - Farengar, of course, and there's a drunkard who frequents the Bannered Mare, too." 

"Well, I gather I have some talent for it." She shrugged her backpack off, settling it on the ground between her feet. 

"Mariah!" A small voice called, and a little body flung itself at her. She laughed, nearly toppling over as Lucia practically tackled her. "You're okay!" 

She smiled, hugging the child gently. "I am, thanks to you." 

"Oh?" The little girl looked up at her, wide-eyed. 

She nodded. "From what I can tell, Irileth found your potion in my things. It's what kept me together until they could get me to the healer." She squeezed the girl gently. "So I guess I owe you, huh?" 

"I guess so." 

She looked up and over at the housecarl. "Lydia, meet Lucia. You said you were supposed to guard me and everything of mine, right?" 

"Well … yes …." 

She nodded. "I want you to look after Lucia, at least while we're in town, all right? It's not much," she said the last to the girl, "But it's something I can do for you anyway." 

"Of course, my Thane." 

She leaned back on the bench. "Gods, but I'm tired." She yawned to emphasize her point. "But you don't get better at anything without practice." She nudged Lucia gently, to get her to let go. Then, she cracked the book open. 

"You can read?" The little girl asked. 

Lydia made a shushing noise. "That's rude … " 

"No, it's all right. I can read - do you want me to read to you? It's actually really interesting to learn from all these books." 

"You think so?" Lucia smiled brightly, leaning forward to peek at the pages. "I'd like to learn," she said wistfully. 

"Well - why don't we learn together?" She smiled brightly, flipping to the first page. "'This book is the first in a series dedicated to the study of conjuration ….'"

A Stranger in Skyrim 21

Chapter Twenty-One: Back to Business

In which magic cures all ills.

A tumble of nonsensical words rolled through her mind, the loudest voices actually Shouting at her.

“Dovahkiin!” they seemed to say.

She groaned, opening eyes that refused to focus properly.

She tasted copper in her mouth. Reaching up to feel her face, her hand came away wet. She looked around to try and figure out where she'd ended up, but it was impossibly dark.

She started to panic.

Although she had excellent night vision, it did her no good if there wasn't any light. Trying to keep calm, she felt around her. She was in a tight space. Wall, door – there, cold porcelain. She identified it immediately as the bathroom. She was sitting on the floor next to the toilet, which explained the tight confines; her bathroom was ridiculously tiny. Feeling up the wall, she found the light switch and flipped it on.

Relief flooded her, even though her eyes complained at the sudden light and she had to close them.

Now all she had to do was clean up all the blood.

She deliberately did not think about exactly what would cause that kind of a reaction, because she had her suspicions and they were wrong.

She picked herself up, unlocked the door, and, taking a deep breath to prepare herself, opened it.

There was nothing there.

She laughed a bit at herself. She was being silly. Why would there be anything inside her house?

She walked to her bedroom, took her night meds, and crawled into bed. Nothing popped out at her, nothing was there but her own foolish imagination.

For the first time in months, she left the bedside lamp on when she went to sleep.

She was roused out of a vague nightmare by another: everything was pain. She felt her bones grinding against each other as they set themselves, and she cried out in agony as the nerves protested their treatment.

A woman stood above her, her hands glowing with white light. She wore brown robes with a yellow hood, and she spoke soft, soothing, nonsense words.

The pain slowly subsided as everything sank into its proper place. Mariah sagged with relief.

“You're awake then? Good. I was afraid … generally it's a bad idea to let someone with a cracked skull sleep, but nothing could rouse you.” The woman smiled. “You've had a lot of visitors. Mostly well-wishers, some of the guards who were with you when you killed that dragon. The Jarl himself even came down from Dragonsreach. You're a popular lady.”

She sat up slowly, with a groan. “What time is it … ?”

“Morning. You're hungry?”

Mariah nodded slowly.

“We'll get you something to eat.” Another smile. “Now, and this is important: don't do anything too strenuous for the next couple of days. I had to heal a lot of damage, and you're still on the mend.”

She rubbed the back of her head. “Define 'strenuous,' please.” She doubted she'd get a real chance to rest, after all. What had even happened to her possessions?

“No fighting. Period. No heavy lifting, no long journeys, no running, or jumping, or … whatever it is you hero types do, don't do it. Understand me, if you strain yourself too much, you won't heal properly. You're fragile right now.”

She nodded. “Understood. Can I at least make the trip up to Dragonsreach? If the Jarl came to see me, I'm sure it's important.”

“If you think you're up to it, I suppose. Just be careful. I don't want to see you back here because you broke something again.”

A smile. “I'll do my best. Now … what was this about food?”

She ate a hearty meal of meat, bread, and cheese, put together in a configuration she chose to call a “sandwich.” It was a medieval time period, so she was fairly sure she got to “invent” certain modern ideas like that.

“Thank you again. Do I owe you anything?”

The woman shook her head. “Your expenses were covered by the Jarl. He said that it was the least he could do for a dragonslayer.”

“I – see. Well, thank you anyway. I didn't expect to survive that fall.”

Another shake of the head. “You wouldn't have, except that Irileth managed to get an extremely powerful healing potion into you, and quickly.” The woman smiled. “I just finished the job. If you thank anyone today, it should be the housecarl.”

“I will, but you have my thanks anyway. Where are my things, please?”

The woman produced all of her gear, even the pieces Mariah hadn't noticed were missing. She had to get used to the idea of carrying a weapon with her everywhere.

She arranged her things in their normal places. Everything felt heavier than it had been before, but then, she was still worn out from the healing. If she'd been as battered as she still felt, it was a miracle she was up and walking. She remembered the first day after her surgery, and her inability to move.

Magic beat modern medicine, apparently.

Who knew?

The trip up to Dragonsreach, though exhausting, was largely uneventful. She sagged against the great doors of the place before she finally pushed them open.

Spying the Jarl, she noticed he had other people with him.

“Good,” the fancy-robed man said. “You're finally here. The Jarl's been waiting for you.”

The Jarl had another visitor, a man in leather armor that looked like it had been ripped off some ancient barbarian hero … wait, he probably was an ancient barbarian hero. He was big, muscular, and looked kind of mean.

“You heard the summons,” the Jarl was saying as she approached his throne. “What else could it mean? The Graybeards ….”

The barbarian shrugged slightly, turning to look at her. “We were just talking about you. My brother needs a word with you.”

“Aye-aye.” She said it tiredly, with a faint smile.

The Jarl regarded her calmly. “My guards have given their reports, but I'd like to hear your tale, please. Leave nothing out. Any details you remember might be important, if we should have to face another.”

She looked up at the ceiling, for a moment, folding her hands behind her back. “Yessir. The watchtower was destroyed; there was rubble everywhere, and everything was burning. Only one guard had survived the dragon's attack, and he was telling us to get away. The dragon swooped down – Irileth did most of the fighting.” She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I mostly just shot lightning at it.”

“I knew I could count on Irileth. But my guards tell me that you had your moment, no?”

She shook her head. “I grabbed the dragon, when it was about to take off, and nearly got killed for my efforts, sir. I guess I dealt the killing blow, but really, I would have died on my own.”

He nodded. “And then?”

“The dragon – when it was dying, it … melted. I remember that. And then … there was a white light, coming from its corpse. I think – I think it was coming for me. I blacked out … I don't remember, I'm sorry.”

The Jarl closed his eyes, processing that. “So it's true – the Greybeards really were summoning you.”

“The … Greybeards, sir?”

He nodded once. “Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World.” Oh goodie. She was going to get to go mountain climbing.

“What … I'm sorry, what would they want with me?”

The Jarl regarded her oddly. “That light you saw … it was most likely the dragon's very soul. You absorbed it into your body … I'd wager that power is part of why you didn't die from your injuries. If that's true – if you are Dragonborn, then you should be able to Shout, like the dragons do. The Greybeards could teach you to use your gift, if you let them.”

“Didn't you hear that thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?” The Jarl's brother asked. “That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar!”

She shook her head. “I don't think I was conscious for that.”

But she remembered. Dovahkiin, they'd called her, in her dream. Dragonborn.

“This hasn't happened in … centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned while he was still Talos of Atmora!” Talos … one of the Divines?

The fancy-pants man folded his arms. “Hrongar, calm yourself. What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here?” He gestured to her. “Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this, what, 'Dragonborn.'”

“Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed up, ignorant …” He sputtered for a moment. “These are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the first Empire!”

“Hrongar,” The Jarl smiled, humor in his voice. “Don't be so hard on Avenicci.”

Fancy-pants – Avenicci – shook his head. “I meant no disrespect, of course. It's just that … what do these Greybeards want with her?”

She'd like to know that, herself.

“That's the Greybeards' business, not ours.” He looked away from his brother and his advisor, staring straight at her. “Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you are Dragonborn, who are we to argue? You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There is no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor.”

She shifted a little, uncertainly. “There might be a slight problem with the 'immediate' part of that. I'm not to do anything strenuous for the next few days ….”

He waved his hand, dismissively. “I envy you, you know. To climb the seven thousand steps again... I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that? It's a difficult journey … perhaps you should wait until you're well.”

“What can you tell me about this 'High Hrothgar?'”

He looked distant for a moment. “High Hrothgar is a very … peaceful place. Very disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before.” He shook his head. “No matter. Go High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you.”

A slight pause, as one of the servants came up with a few items.

“You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn,” Jarl Balgruuf announced. “By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as your personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office.” He smiled. “I'll also notify my guards of your new status. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn.”

“My – my lord, I can't – ”

He took the axe from his own belt, holding it out to her with both hands. “You can, and you will. My servant will lead you to the armory to choose a small selection of items for your past deeds, as well.”

She shook her head, but obediently followed the servant when he beckoned. As she was walking away, she heard the Jarl speak again.

“Back to business, Proventus. We still have a city to defend.”