A Skyrim tale - Vengeance and Redemption, Eilidh MacAuley's Tale Options

[PhonAntiPhon]

HELGEN

"What's your name, Elf?"
The shouts of soldiers and the clatter of weapons echoed around the windblown courtyard. Someone's discarded linen shawl blew between the legs of the small group of guardsmen standing lazily to attention beside an old and scarred desk set up in the middle of the wide space.

Behind this desk, holding a quill pen poised over a ragged sheet of parchment, sat a hard-eyed and angular woman of maybe 50 summers, bedecked in the regalia of a captain of the guard.
She sighed, and waved the quill at a soldier standing behind the prisoner.

With a grunt of acknowledgement the soldier lifted his spear and slammed the butt end of it into the small of the captive's back.
She fell to her knees on the hard dusty ground, sucking a pained breath in through between dirty, clenched teeth.
"Your name." Demanded the captain once again.

After a moment longer, the prisoner looked up at the captain behind her desk; regarded her with large, nearly black eyes set in a gaunt face framed by lank, straw-coloured hair from which protruded the pointed tips of distinctive Elven ears.

The Elf opened her mouth and said in a low, cracked voice; "Eilidh."

The Captain regarded her a moment longer.

The Bosmer - (who, incidentally smelt... well she smelt terribly, but she also smelt like a wolf or a bear; slightly "meaty" and "musty"; sour and rotten. All her kind did, it was as distinctive as it was unwholesome; a result of their twisted diet. And yet, the Captain had to admit to herself, she found this one more than a little fascinating) - The elf's face and body betrayed no small degree of history and hardship; thin she was and yet beneath the ragged sackcloth shirt her body was nevertheless sinewy and bowstring taut, the compact muscles hard and surprisingly powerful; at least one of her men had found that out the hard way when they had attempted to capture her.

Her skin was heavily freckled, beneath a layer of greasy filth, and marked by innumerable abrasions, pocks and marks of all shapes and sizes. She was heavily tattooed with any number of vulgar designs.
But it was her face, more than anything, that told of the hardness of her life until now, it's end.

The left side of the Bosmer's face was a mass of scarring, the damaged skin pale and livid against the dirt that covered her. Dark warpaint was smeared across her cheeks and the sockets of her eyes, which were black and moist; vastly deep like some animal's and rimmed with a livid red as of an incipient infection.
The woman's mouth was set in a thin hard line, the lips bloodless.

But enough of this.
She sighed, waved the quill again and once more the butt of the spear connected with the kneeling Bosmer, hitting her shoulderblade with a crack barely muffled by the thin material that covered her.
"ALL of your name, bosmer." She said, spitting out the last word like an insult.

"MacAuley, Eilidh MacAuley." Said Eilidh finally, her dry voice heavily accented.
The captain grunted in satisfaction and carefully wrote down the name on the parchment, poking out her tongue in concentration.
When she had finished she looked up at Eilidh again, saying; "So, bosmer, have ye anything to say in ya defence, afore I pass my judgement?"
It was a pointless question, and she knew it.

Eilidh knew it too.
"Téigh gnéas féin agat soith..." She hissed through yellowed and gritted teeth.
"Speak Imperial!" Snapped the Captain. Eilidh winced as the guard behind her applied his spear to her back once again.
She glanced hatefully at the woman behind the desk and then, a cold half-smile flickering across her lips she said; "Go **** ye'sel' *****."

There was an audible gasp from the men around her at this display of blatent insolence, and for a moment even their leader looked taken aback.
The Captain gathered herself.
"Even if you were not already dead, bosmer, now you are for sure..."

Silence held sway for a moment and Eilidh, naked but for the thin cloth shivered a little in the chill air blowing through the garrison's courtyard.
She ached all over, or at least more than usual. Her brains were pounding in her ears and her mouth had a dry and phlegmy taste in it. Her condition was not helped in any way by the fact that she had not had wine for some 3 days now.
More though, was the pain of what that pig of a legionary had done to her.

Hers had been a hard life, she had had to fight every inch of the way barring a few brief patches of respite. She looked, she knew, every one of the 173 seasons that she had spent on this Gods-forsaken world.
During her time she had committed... dubious acts, both physically and morally, and yes amongst those had been the auctioning of herself, when money had been tight and survival the only factor.
But that was different, she had been in control; calling the shots she had run the game and come out the victor in those encounters.
Yesterday though, that had been something else entirely, that was evil even by her standards of behaviour. There had been a wrong visited upon her the likes of which should never happen.
Ever.

And then, out of the corner of her dark eye she saw him, standing just behind the guard Captain's entourage he was.
He was a big man, broad of girth; fat, sweaty jowls, and sallow oily skin. He was wearing a helmet and facing slightly away from her but she knew him; his stinking greasy body, his breath hot and sour against her, his little piggy eyes.
Oh, she knew him alright.
The blood in her veins ran cold as ice, her heart pounded against her ribs.

He turned then, and saw her.
His plump mouth spread open in fat grin, the thick lips pink against his pale cheeks. He pointed at her with a stubby finger whilst with his other hand he made a sign, the meaning of which was only too clear to the Bosmer.

The sound of the Captain's voice droning on - a litany of her crimes, chief amongst which was simply of having been born a Bosmer - had long since faded into the distance, to be replaced by one repeated thought:
"HE MUST PAY. HE WILL PAY."
Over and over and over, a cold and hard nugget of vengeance.

Had she been able, she would have leapt at him then and there even though her hands were bound.
Indeed, even as she thought it, her body moved of it's own accord, her mouth twisting into a snarl...

...Then hands grabbed her and lifted her roughly to her feet, through a red haze of bloody murder she vaguely heard the Captain's voice; "...for the crime of being an unwelcome element in the Imperial Province of Skyrim, for numerous

breaches of our laws, I hereby refer you for summary execution."

Her captors walked her across the courtyard to the block that sat lumpen and solid; bloodstained and chipped, in the centre of the courtyard. A mute symbol of oppression and arbitrary justice.
She passed him and their eyes met - his, mocking and leering and hers, hate-filled.
She kept her eyes on him as she was led away, maintained contact even as the tendons in her neck began to creak and ache.

Finally she faced the front, faced her future.
173 years.
He Would Pay. Even if in Death she made a pact with all of the Daedra themselves to send her back, He Would Pay.

173 years.

They forced her roughly to her knees, pushing her head onto the block.
Rage boiled within her.

173.
He Would Pay.

She sensed the headsman raise his sword.
1...
7...

The world exploded into roaring fire, and everything around her went insane.

-x-

This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: Mar 10 2014, 08:42 PM

[PhonAntiPhon]

RIVERWOOD 2

DELPHINE
[in which Larellee has an unsettling talk with the innkeeper...]

Larellee blinked as she stepped out of her room and into the commons. The central fire was bright and roaring in its stone-lined pit, the pots suspended over it glowing dully, their contents steaming and bubbling. A heavy aroma of woodsmoke and roasted meats hung in the air.
There were some ten or eleven patrons in the large space, not including the two bards - one male and one female who, from their position in the shadows at the end furthest from the bar, were belting out patriotic Nordic standards that were met with a mix of heartfelt applause and lusty, if somewhat tuneless, singing.
This had been the case, at least, until Larellee had entered. The music and singing had petered out and as she stood by the still open door through which she had come several pairs of eyes turned to regard her with varying degrees curiousity and no small amount of hostility.
"...Came in 'ere wi' the elf..."
"The MacAuley...? She training this one, then...?"
"...Bad smells always come back..."
"...Run out of men to sleep with then, hur hur..."
Freshly scrubbed and newly attired as she was, Larellee felt extremely exposed and awkward before the predominantly male customers and their none-too-subtle whisperings. A hot blush began to rise up her throat to her face. She put a hand to her neck and looked about her, preparing to retreat once more into her room away from the probing stares and hard, dirt-streaked faces.
"You lot never seen a pretty girl before? Get on with it, you buggers!"

The spell was broken by Delphine. Sailing over to Larellee, dress billowing like the sails on a ship, she grasped the young woman's hand and steered her to the bar all the while shooting withering looks at the patrons and admonishing them for their audacity and rudeness.
Helpless in the face of the innkeeper's indignation the other inhabitants of the commons went, more-or-less grudgingly, back to their own business. The bards struck up once again and slowly the noise of conversation rose in volume.
"Don't you worry Poppet." Fussed Delphine. "This lot'll bark but they won't bite." She gave Larellee a meaningful look as she led her to a table close to the bar. "You at least..."
Upon the table had been laid a plate of bread and cheese and a thick slice of freshly boiled ham on a platter, pink and glistening in the light of the fire and the candles that lit the room with a rich yellow-orange light. There were some pickles and thick yellow butter, and a large mug of dark wine.
Larellee's mouth started to water and she realised just how hungry she was. Seating herself before the feast, she set to with a will but, reminded of the injury to her face, at least maintained the presence of mind to favour the uninjured side of her mouth.
Delphine watched her approvingly. "A healthy appetite is half the battle, I always say." She remarked sagely, patting the gentle swell of her belly. "Nothing wrong with yours, that much is obvious."

For some moments Larellee concerned herself with demolishing the food that was before her, finally though there was nothing substantial left and after cramming one final piece of rich, strong cheese into her mouth she swilled down a generous gulp of wine, pushed her plate away and belched loudly.
"Thank you!" She said to Delphine, who had sat with her the while. The innkeeper beamed as Larellee wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
"You're very welcome, Poppet."
Larellee took another swallow of wine, it had a rich, earthy taste. Brushing a hair from her face she turned to Delphine.
"You've been kind, but I've no way to pay you..., at least no gold; I was a kitchen girl in Helgen so I could clean pots by way of working my debt...?"
Delphine shook her head.
"You'll do no such thing, girl, I will not hear of it.
She gestured at the commons around them both; at the patrons and the bards.
"Look at them, Larellee, look. They need nothing more than beer and meat and fighting." She placed a hand on Larellee's cheek. "You however, I think, need more. Brought into my inn in a terrible state, and with that Elf, it's been my pleasure and my duty even, to help you as best I can." She looked at the young woman, her stubby fingers still resting lightly on the other's skin. "I would do the same for almost anyone who came to me in trouble."
larellee noticed that again the other woman had qualified her statement, and this time she had looked briefly toward the door through which were the stables where Eilidh had been sent upon their arrival.

"She's not welcome, though, is she?"
Delphine's face darkened.
"The Bosmer?"
Larellee nodded. "What you said before, about her; and with her being in the stables." She swallowed, aware that Delphine's mood had turned somewhat. "I... I know that Nords do not like Elvenkind as a general rule, I saw that at the fort; but it seems that Eilidh has given you more reason to dislike her than simply just by being an Elf?"
Delphine looked away into the commons, harrumphing to herself and straightening her dress.
"You have some insight, Poppet." She said eventually, turning back to Larellee. "You're right, yes. If I had my way she would be in the gutter with the dogs; but Orgnar, well, he would not have it."
Delphine looked awkward for a moment, then shook her head and looked away again. Larellee waited patiently, it was obvious that the woman wanted to talk but was unable to find the words to begin.
Finally Delphine turned her head back to Larellee, she regarded the young woman for a moment; blue eyes glinting in the firelight.
"I'll tell you about Eilidh MacAuley, Poppet." She said then, and spat the name as if it had left a bad taste in her mouth. "She's a liar and cheat; a thief. She'll take a man and his money and leave him with nothing - except maybe the clap - she's a drunkard and a brawler and a... a dirty whore and I would not trust her further than I could [censored]."
Larellee stared at the innkeeper with wide eyes. Delphine was flustered and red-faced now and there had been a vehemence in her voice that larellee had not believed she possessed.
"Is this to do with you son?" She asked. "With Orgnar...?"
Delphine looked puzzled for a moment, then the coin dropped and some of her anger left her as she smiled softly.
"Bless you child, he's not my son but my nephew, my brother's son." She sat down at the table with Larellee and poured herself a mug of wine. Larellee, watching her, thought that she looked old in that moment; a heaviness descending upon her from out of the past.
"We can move on from our past, but we can never truly leave it behind." She thought to herself, sipping at her own wine.
"My brother is dead." Stated Delphine bluntly. "Dead and gone in the wars these past five years." She took a drink, set the mug down upon the rough wooden table with slow deliberation. "But you are right, mostly, this has to do with my brother's son, and my brother too." She smiled again, and the weight of memory seemed to lift slightly. "You're a smart one, Poppet."

From the fire came the snap and crackle of new logs as Orgnar fed the flames, all the while bantering with the inn's customers. One of the men raised up his rich, deep voice in song; a bawdy ditty concerning the Emperor, a serving lass, and her father's donkey.
Larellee had heard it before, it was set to a much earlier tune, actually one from Cyrodiil; a nursery rhyme she remembered from her childhood.
"The men can sing as they wish here." Said Delphine, by way of unsolicited explanation for the singer's ditty. She sat back in her chair, cupping her mug of wine. "We've no affection for the Imperials here, nor for anyone else not of our kind."
Larellee raised an eyebrow.
"What of me?" She asked. "I am an Imperial."
Delphine smiled and sat forward, placing a hand reassuringly on Larellee's arm. "I had thought as much." She said. "But you needn't fear. Just because we do not relish the presence of outsiders here in Riverwood, we are more tolerant than many and though I'll admit that were you to be caught out alone in the countryside there are some about who would use you as they saw fit, being a daughter of Empire as you are, but not within this town.
"We have long relied on passing trade and so we tolerate those from afar who have something to offer, or find themselves in need," she cocked her head on one side, "mostly..."

"...Except Eilidh." Said Larellee. "What did she do to you for you to hate her so much?"
"I will not have her here, larellee." Replied Delphine firmly. "She has been the cause of mush trouble and heartbreak for us, and she's Bosmer to boot. General Tullius..."
"...General Tullius issued an order to Imperial troops to round up Bosmers." Finished Larellee for her.
"Indeed, Poppet," Said Delphine. "and you know? That's the only thing where your General and myself do agree." She nodded once, curtly, at larellee. "That's what she would have been doing in Helgen in the first instance; captured and sentenced. The dragon's attack must have allowed her to escape.
"Like a bad penny she turns up once again." She took a quick swig of wine. "Why are you so concerned about the MacAuley woman anyway?" She then asked, as if eager to move the topic away from Bosmers in general.
"If it were not for her, I would not now be here." Answered Larellee, although in her heart she knew that there was more to it, now, than that.
"Hmmph. Maybe, or maybe not - or maybe you would be, but with your brother, hmm?" She looked at Larellee with one eyebrow raised questioningly. "Still," she conceded, "she did bring you here, although it's out of character for her and for Bosmers, as far as I know anything about them."
She scratched at the side of her nose, Orgnar hurried past carrying a tray loaded with foaming mugs of mead, around them the hubbub of the inn ebbed and flowed.
"I'll grant her bringing you here was probably the one and only thing she's ever done in her miserable life that was any good to anyone but herself." Delphine waved a finger vaguely in the direction of the stable door. "But that and no more."
There was silence between them. Larellee took a sip of wine and stared thoughtfully into the central fireplace for a moment, chewing her lower lip.
"Tell me, Delphine," she asked again, "what happened?"

++++

Delphine poured more wine and looked out into the commons, marshalling her thoughts.
"Eight years past," she began, "I owned this inn, as I do now, and my brother owned the Trader, just along from here.
"Riverwood has never been a busy place, Poppet, and those times were quieter than usual; it's better now even with the troubles." Delphine laughed ruefully. "My brother's shop was in disarray, he owed debts which neither he nor I could settle."
She gestured about her.
"All I have is here."

"Eilidh MacAuley had been up until then an infrequent but... memorable visitor. We had extended such hospitality as we were able - (the hay being dry and warm) - and had allowed her to trade at the store. In return she drank her fill at the inn and..." Delphine paused for a moment, looking at Laralee with narrowed eyes. Finally she continued; "She... put herself about in other ways, for which she doubtless earned back some of what she had paid out to me, here, over the bar."
Delphine took a sip of wine, looked at the younger woman over the rim of the mug.
"Understand, Larellee, as I have said that woman's reputation for mischief and whoring is prodigious, certainly around here. I do not doubt that the loins of many a husband and father hereabouts furnished her purse with coin and on more than one occasion she was thrown out of the stables as a result of her indiscretions." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "Not to mention the fighting and the stealing."
Larellee opened her mouth to say something but Delphine held up her hand.
"No, don't get me wrong Poppet, she's not the worst by any means; not by a long bow shot, no - but, she has a way about her, a dangerous and fey air." She stopped and thought a moment, the immediacy and directness of the patriotic tune being cranked out by the bards providing a counterpoint to her slightly vacant expression.
"It is almost as if she really does have nothing left to lose." She said finally. "That said though, she did good enough business both here and in the shop when she appeared, and behaved herself. Not enough to ransom a jarl, but good enough."

Both women sat back from the table and considered the inn around them for a moment. Smoke hung heavily in the air, pale-grey curtains of it riffling in the currents drawn upwards by the heat of the flames in the central pit. Around them conversation ebbed and flowed, driven by debate and the topics of the day; the coming war, the imperials, the Elves.
"Had she been a vision of mercy incarnate, still she would not have been welcomed fully here." Thought Larellee to herself.
"Tell me more." She said softly to Delphine, who nodded briefly.
"Well," she continued, "my brother was always very careful with her in his store. light-fingered is as light-fingered does and some people - like she, and her kin from what I know - can't help themselves." She gestured with her chin in the direction of the stables once again. "However much coin that Elf brought into the store it was always a sure-fire wager that she would, if given half a chance, walk out with twice that and more.
"The problem was that, what with the troubles with his shop and his worries about his family and how much coin he had to support them, my brother was distracted I suppose." She shrugged. "Whatever the reason, his guard was down."
Delphine took a swig from the mug and placed it upon the table between them with great deliberation.
"The Bosmer somehow got hold of my brother's son, Orgnar, a boy of eighteen summers he was back then. You know how boys are..."

In truth, Larellee did not personally, but she was worldly enough to have a pretty good idea. She nodded politely for Delphine to continue.
"I will leave it to your own thoughts, as to what happened between the two, but not long after I suppose, Orgnar came to me with an idea that he said that Eilidh had had, an idea that could help my brother, the shop, and it's failing fortunes.
"Suffice to say there was a discussion between us; the Elf included, and to cut a lengthy tale into a shorter one, she prevailed and much against my wishes." Here Delphine tapped at her chest with a finger, she sighed. "My brother always did have a weakness for his son, and Orgnar has never been a wordly boy. Had he been he might have seen through the Elf's scheming..." Her voice trailed off.

"I never knew the precise details of the plan the Elf had, I doubt they amounted to much, but suffice to say her plan required coin to work and my brother in his blindness gave her two thousand gold. Two thousand! More than he personally had." The older woman raised her eyebrows. "More than he had ever had to spend, so he borrowed the money, and she disappeared with it supposedly to return with... whatever her "plan" required."
Delphine looked away a moment, into the flames and the past, her eyes glistening moistly in firelight.
"Of course, the promised salvation never arrived, and neither did the Elf." She continued with a maudlin sigh. "My brother was forced to sell the store and Orgnar was heartbroken for her - she had netted and landed him good and properly, and guilt-ridden also for his father." Delphine watched her nephew moving amongst the customers for a moment.
"What happened then?" Asked Larellee, feeling genuinely sorry for innkeeper.
"Then?" Continued Delphine; "Bereft of employment and with seemingly no other recourse, my brother went away to fight in the border wars, and Orgnar came to me. In the fullness of time my brother was killed, as I was sure would be the case when he left." She clicked her tongue, wiped at her eyes. "And so here we are, eight years later."
"And what of Eilidh?" Larellee had to know.
"Sometime later she was caught, and dragged here. The Jarl himself came and sentenced her to death, but my nephew sued for clemency." The innkeeper's face darkened. "Seems he carried a torch still for the Bosmer, even though she would have none of him but what she could take, and that being a high enough price already and besides, how could a Nord marry one of them anyway?" There was a bitter twist to her words, and she continued; "I love Orgnar as a son, but he is soft and naive. He explained to the Jarl that we had treated her no better than a beast and so she had behaved as one would."
Delphine stopped and took a deep breath, her lower lip quivering, cheeks flushed. "We... we allowed her here to trade, we even let her stay in this inn; drink here in the commons like the normal folk do! This is how she repaid us." Delphine waggled a finger at Larellee. "No, Poppet, she is worse than a beast; a beast would be grateful for what it was given and would know it's place!"
She gave herself a moment to calm down.
"The Jarl took Orgnar's side, however and commuted the sentence. Eilidh was stripped naked and tied upon a tanning frame outside of the Trader, and beaten until she was insensible. And that took quite some time, I can tell you.
"After that, she was hauled away and the Jarl had her wounds rubbed with salt."
It seemed to Larellee that the innkeeper, regardless of her reasons, was taking altogether too much pleasure in relating the details of the Bosmer's punishment. She stayed silent however as Delphine continued.
"Then," the older woman went on, "he personally threw her into Helgen's dungeon for one year and a day, telling her upon her release that she would receive death for certain should she ever set foot in our town again." Delphine finished her wine. "That was four years ago and until now no one here had seen her.

Larellee poured herself more wine and sat back in her chair, rotating the mug thoughtfully between her long fingers. She looked at Delphine, feeling perhaps less sympathy than she might perhaps have done once, only a very short time ago. The innkeeper's words betrayed her nature, and Larellee found it unpleasant.
"So why is she still alive then?"
Delphine made a face.
"Because of my nephew, and you Larellee." She pointed at herself. "I would as soon see the filthy whore hung by her feet from a tree and flayed alive, but Orgnar would not countenance it and I love him, despite his strange ideas. He is all that's left of my brother."
"Then there's the matter of you." She looked searchingly at Larellee. "I do not believe all of your story, Poppet, leastways not the parts concerning Eilidh; but, she nevertheless did bring you here to safety, although I doubt her motives were overly white in that respect. Nevertheless," she shifted her weight on the chair, "a deed that is good is worth something, at least."
She pointed a finger at Larellee.
"There's more afoot than you have told, Larellee, and I believe that you are covering for her, why, I do not know and I am not sure I want to. I suppose you have your reasons, and I have respected them thus far.
"Be that as it may," she continued, "I have told the guard to hold her, and send for the jarl's men, if she is not gone from this place by the crowing of the first [censored] on the morrow."
Larellee said, "And what of tonight?"
"She remains in the stables, out of sight and mind, with the livestock. There are many here who want her dead." Delphine's expression made it quite clear that she was amongst that number. "But this inn is a sanctuary of sorts and she has you to thank for that, Poppet, until first [censored]."

larellee pursed her lips.
"She didn't act like any of this had happened when she arrived." She said.
"No, of course not." Replied the innkeeper. "The Bosmer has spent her life, no doubt, reeling from one calamity to the next; thinking always of herself and never of the consequences. Always bluffing her way through." Delphine ran a hand through her hair. "Well not this time. I will see her gone on the morrow or I will see her dead."
Delphine made to get up then but Larellee stopped her.
"One thing more, delphine."
"What's that, Poppet?"
"If I had been an Elf, a Bosmer, would I be here now? Would you have bathed me?" She asked, although she knew the answer. "Would you have fed me?"
The two women stared at each other for a long moment.
"First crowing, she's gone." Said Delphine, and left the young woman alone with her thoughts.

-x-

This post has been edited by PhonAntiPhon: May 7 2014, 11:56 PM