The Nascent Ranger: Book 1 Responsibility

[Chirurgeon]

I want to give a special thanks to Jakarius who made the mod that incorporates elements of the Ranger's Apprentice series of books into Skyrim. It is the basis and motivation for this work

There are other mods that I use as well. Almost a hundred of them. I will list those later as I am purging ones I dont use.


Table of Contents:

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24







Prologue


Faendal surveyed the road ahead as swayed ever so slightly in the saddle of his horse. Rugot was a faithful companion and Faendal smiled as he rubbed the horses neck.

“In a few hours we will be in Riften ol boy,” smiling slightly as he said it.

The journey that Faendal was taking was one that he had been thinking about for some time. He knew that this was the right time. Willow, the Riften ranger, had sent word that it was time to pick up his package. That was code of course and he knew what it truly meant.

As he rode the great pines outside of Helgen swayed in the spring breeze. Skyrim was awaking from its winter slumber and another year of sowing, growing, and harvesting would begin in earnest. Of course there were many places in Skyrim that did not receive a respite from the cold and he was approaching one of those areas now. The road from Helgen to Riften was a popular rout for travelers but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. Faendal wrapped his fur cloak around himself and hunkered down under its protection.
As he rode he had another pair of eyes keeping watch. Rugot was not just a mode of transportation but a carefully trained horse. Rugot and other ranger horses were trained to alert their riders to various dangers. In fact the instincts and distance that the horse could detect danger was truly remarkable. Rugot would whiney and would tense up under his rider. He was a dependable companion and on several occasions has actually defended his rider.

The climb was steep and Faendal let out a bit of sigh as he saw the swirling snowflakes ahead. Rugot, which was the old tongue for “storm”, didn’t seem to mind. The horse was found wild wondering around in a winter storm and seemed oblivious to it. It was only natural to name him Rugot.

The climb leveled off and the swirling flakes reached their intensity at the top of the pass. Faendal gave a nod to some legion soldiers who were shoveling the snow to the edges of the pass. He thought of the irony of how the men were sweating despite the cold. Later they would be cold as the sweat chilled their clothes. The men moved out of the way. Faendal was an Imperial Ranger and all rangers had the utmost respect from the soldiers.

The Imperial Rangers had a member in every hold of every province in the empire. Whiterun hold was Faendal’s assignment and he had the Jarl’s ear at just about anytime. Things had been quiet here in Skyrim and the young King Torryg had not faced any serious challenges. However here in Skyrim there was always the possibility of trouble. The Rangers acted as the eyes and ears of the Emperor. It was a lesson learned from the great war. The empire had been nearly blind in the attack from the Thalmor. Faendal shook his head as he thought about it. Those were not pleasant memories. The spring snows that were raining down on his fur cloak were not pleasant either and he could not wait to finish his descent into the Rift. Falkreath hold, the Rift, and Whiterun hold all came together here at the top of the pass. As he descended he was entering the Rift.

The snow began to abate and Faendal felt a little better. The mild climate of the Rift would be a welcome sight. The trees were bursting with color after their long sleep. This was due to “Rain’s Hand”, the month after the sowing of seeds throughout most of the empire. The weather this time of year could be quite wet.
Faendal also noticed how swollen some of the streams were. The snowmelt was underway and the Jerrel mountains were discharging water at a phenomenal rate. Lake Geir would be swollen with water and the great volumes of water would eventually find their way to the sea. Hamlets like Ivarstead would have to deal with the constant roar of the spring snow melt as the water raged towards the sea.

Along lake Geir some locals were taking advantage of the Salmon run and their predators the slaughterfish. Both were caught and then smoked, grilled, or dried for winter. Even now people would be putting aside meats and vegetables in their cellars for the long hard winter that Skyrim endured.

Faendal, as well as all the other rangers, made it a point to get to know the people that resided in their holds. Sneaking up to a bandit camp or a bear den was made a lot easier if local city folk and villagers could offer information. In exchange the rangers would often hunt and bring back some of their spoils for the local people. The idea was to build trust with the local people so that a Ranger was always aware of what was happening.

He looked at the locals with their families out fishing and watched the children jumping from boulder to boulder, and knew that the ranger of The Rift would know most if not all of their names. Willow was a wood elf just like Faendal. Wood elves made superb rangers and the empire eagerly recruited them. She would take great pain to make sure that every village and hamlet was visited in her hold. It would be good to see a fellow ranger so that information could be exchanged as well as stories.

Shifting himself in the saddle, and Rugot’s ears twitching as he did, he could see the children running next to the road. They would run from one birch tree to the next and try to hide behind it as they did. It was common for children to do this because ranger’s were renowned for their stealth. They would play hide and seek games as he would pass. Faendal could not help but smile.

He passed a small farm and then nodded to the city guards as he rode around the high walls to the northern gate. Here he saw the stablemaster and paid him some septims to bed , feed, and brush his horse down. As much as Faendal knew Rugot would miss him, he also knew that the pampering he would receive would help him forget.

The guards at the gate nodded politely and opened the great wooden doors. As it creaked open one of them swore how they needed new hinges. The other one mocked that he was just getting weak from all the boring duty. “Guards will be guards, “ Faendal said thoughtfully just out of earshot.

Inside the city it was filled with its usual activity. Faendal made his way to the Bee and Barb and even in this afternoon hour there were patrons and music. The argonian proprieters worked diligently to satisfy the patrons. There was no way to hide what this place was. Even the wood in the floor reeked of ale.

Faendal spotted Willow across the room as she was sitting at a corner table. Faendal smiled and greeted Willow. “Hello fellow ranger. What news of the Rift?” Faendal was trying to be official but he could barely contain his smile. Wood elves were cheerful naturally so it took a lot of composure. Willow smiled back, “Bandits, drunks, and bears.” She said with a grin. Her eyes seemed to sparkle and Faendal pulled up a chair. The barmaid came over and Faendal ordered a meat and cheese platter with some Blackbriar mead to wash it all down. He offered to Willow but she waved him off. “I am completely full thank you.”

They sat and exchanged information in their quiet almost riddle like way. No one could hear them over the din of the people in the bar but even if someone heard much of the Ranger language was codelike. They stopped talking when the food was delivered and then continued.

“Will you have to pay his bounty to get him out of jail?” Willow asked as she stared at the mug of ale in front of her, fhr fingers idly tapping on its side.

Faendal grimaced a bit and nodded. “This is the third time he has been caught trying to steal something. “ Faendal shook his head, “and the thieves guild wants money from what you told me so I suppose I can give you that.”

Willow looked at Faendal and said “That has been taken care of. Just get him out of that jail.” She seemed genuinely concerned. Faendal was taken aback but he thanked her anyway. “We know we have to take care of him so I wanted to do whatever I could.” She took her hands off the mug and rubbed them together. “Well I suppose you need to take care of this?” She told him in a way that seemed to indicate the conversation was over. “The sooner the better,” Faendal thought.

Faendal got up from his seat and looked down at the young ranger. “I will be back to give him a proper meal. Will you be here?” He asked hopefully. There was no way to hide the attraction Faendal had for Willow. “I am afraid the Jarl wants to speak with me about some things.” She frowned as she said it. Even after a year of being here she never quite got used to standing in front of the Jarl and the rest of the court.
Faendal nodded and told her that he hoped to see her again soon. And with that they did a quick search with their eyes to see what had changed in the environment. It was years of training. Some people had been watching , as it was rare for two rangers to be seen together. For the most part they worked alone, unless of course they had an apprentice with them.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 1



Faendal and Willow left the confines of the Bee and Barb and walked toward Mistwatch keep. Here they split passed and nodded to each other as Willow went to speak to the Jarl and Faendal went to speak with his “package”.

Faendal said his name softly to himself “Halas Sundvor”. It had some weight and the memories of that name resonated with Faendal deeply. He would have to distance himself from that if he wanted to get through this.

The guard at the entrance to the jail seemed to stiffen his stance as the ranger approached, the oakleaf of his necklace and of his quiver shown in polished silver. The oakleaf being the universal symbol of the Ranger was easily recognized throughout the holds.

He entered the cramped dungeon staircase and finally found another guard who at first tried to ask for a bribe but then realized in his foolishness that Ranger’s did not have to bribe their way past guards.
He looked at the guard at the desk and asked where Halas Sundvor was being kept. “Downstairs first cell on your left Ranger.”

Faendal looked at the guard and thought that for a moment the guard was mocking his title but decided a simple guard would unlikely do something like that. The guard continued with a pointing arm downstairs. “Gunther is down there tell him you would like to speak to that prisoner.” Faendal nodded in agreement and descended the stairs in absolute silence, without even trying. The guard shook his head, “rangers”, is all he could say.

Halas was not much of an impressive sight. He looked really scrawny and malnourished from his weeks in the prison cell. It was three weeks earlier when he was caught trying to steal from one of the merchants. He of course blamed the thieves guild which is a no no in this town. There is a great deal of strain between the guild and the guards. The thieves guild refused to help out Halas because he had already tarnished their name twice before.

Halas was now of age and could be held more accountable for his actions and the Jarl wanted to throw the book at him and re-affirm that the thieves guild is nothing more than brigands pretending to be something they are not.

Willow had convinced the Jarl to allow a coded letter to be penned to Faendal to come deal with the situation. Fourteen years had passed since the death of Halas’s parents who both happened to be rangers. The young boy had never known his parents and spent most of his time at the Honorhall orphanage. However he hated it and ran away multiple times, each time falling into the same trap as before. He would make his way to the ratway and convince thieves guild members he could steal what they needed. It seemed that young Halas was trying to find a family to belong to.

Faendal frowned as he looked at the young man. Would he actually be willing to come along? How was he supposed to tell him everything? He sighed and stepped out of the shadow startling the young man who had a broom in his hand.

“Doing some spring cleaning?” Faendal probed gently to gauge his reaction. Would he be condescending, shy, witty, or polite?

“Umm who are you?” Halas asked suspiciously. “you aren’t a guard and you aren’t with the guild. No one can sneak up on me like that.” Faendal realized he had a chance to keep the kid on his heels. “Oh I hear you are quite good at sneaking. You can scamper across roofs and walls unseen, “ Faendal said almost nonchalantly. Halas looked at him as if to say “how did you know that”. But Halas realized he was not talking to an ordinary soldier. The silver oakleaf necklace gleamed in the pale light. No introduction would be necessary. Halas realized that he was speaking with an imperial ranger and he suddenly felt very small.

“What does a Ranger want with me?” he questioned while idly while tossing the broom back and forth from one hand to another. Faendal noticed the action and realized that the boy had superb reflexes and certainly had raw talent.

Faendal took a deep breath and began to tell Halas the truth about how both his parents were Imperial Rangers in service to the Emperor. He told them that they had died when Halas was just a toddler and that the decision was made to arrange for care at the orphanage until he came of age. It took quite a while and the young man sat on a table as he soaked it all in.

Halas became a bit enraged and seemed overwhelmed with frustrating anger. “Well it would have been nice for someone to have told me all this before I got tossed into jail three times,” Faendal looked at him as gently as possible. “We could not risk any harm coming to you. I promised your parents that if anything happened to them then I would take care of you.” Faendal realized his arms were outstretched as if to ask for some kind of forgiveness. Halas took it as honesty but continued to look down at the floor. “So are you here to offer me their inheritance or something?” He asked jokingly. Faendal shook his head “no that was spent providing for you at the orphanage.”

Halas looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. Faendal continued, “I am here to take you as my apprentice. I had promised your parents that in addition to caring for you. Ranger’s take care of their own.” Faendal added the last bit to reassure Halas. However Halas turned it around on him. “Just like you took care of my parents and let them die? And now you want me to join you as an apprentice? What so that I could share their fate?”

Faendal was on his heels now. He was not expecting this reaction. Obviously Halas had many years of pent up anger and frustration and now Faendal was taking the full brunt of it. But Faendal was persistent. “I suppose you could go back to the thieves’ guild…oh wait I don’t think that would work out. Perhaps you could be a bandit and become accomplished at that.”

“So you come down here and antagonize me now?” Halas was floored and leaped up from the table and began pacing the room. However in his head he knew he didn’t have 500 septims to get out this jail and he had no future with the thieves’ guild. Besides he really didn’t like stealing people’s stuff. How could this be? A ranger was standing there offering an apprenticeship as a favor to his dead parents that he never knew. It was all too much.

“I…I am sorry.” He managed to squeeze out before tears began to roll down his cheeks. He turned away embarrassed and Faendal realized he needed to do something to console the young man.
“It is ok. I would probably be upset as well.” Faendal sighed as he said it relieved that the tension may have broken a bit.

Seeing a way out of the awkward situation Faendal continued, “your parents were the best people I knew and they trusted me to help you. But understand the Imperial Rangers have many enemies and we could not reveal your true identity till we knew you could learn the skills to defend yourself and you were old enough to decide your own fate.”

Halas looked at Faendal now and slowly nodded. “I am not here to deceive you or to hurt you in any way Halas.” Faendal felt a lump in his throat as he struggled with all of this as well. In truth his parents had saved his life on several occasions. It pained Faendal to think of those memories again. “It seems you were wrong on one account Ranger. I think you just decided my fate.” He said with bit of resignation. He took a deep breath and started idly playing with the broom again. “I guess I either rot here in jail or maybe try out the ranger thing. However it might just end like the thieves guild. I am good for getting caught and going to jail and that’s about it.” His shoulders slumped as he said the last part. However a part of him felt a spark. A small flame of curiosity was growing and it would hopefully be nourished further. Speaking of nourishment he asked Faendal if he could do something about the food in the jail. Faendal shook his head but offered something else.

“How about we get out of here and head over to the inn and get some food?” Faendal looked at the young man hopefully. The boy looked malnourished and Faendal hoped that the mention of food would help alleviate the situation. A hungry teenager could never turn down a meal no matter how mad he was but the anger had passed and now he was just a kid waiting anxiously for something good to eat.

Halas nodded and masked a smile. The only way he could leave the jail was if someone paid and it seemed that had just happened. All he could think about was a hot stew or grilled fish with potatoes and other assorted vegetables. Maybe he could get some mead too. For the moment all of the stress of this meeting dissipated, and was replaced with the instinct to nourish his body.

Faendal pulled some clothing out of his bag. “We cant have you walking around in Rags. Put these on and take a few minutes to wash up in that bucket over there.” Faendal walked away to get the guard and handed him 550 septims. The extra fifty was for the guard’s silence about the whole matter. The city got its money and that is what mattered.

Halas and Faendal then walked out of the Jail into the bright light of the afternoon.

 

[Chirurgeon]

As a new member i will do my best to get to know you guys. I have glanced at some of the other works here and I must say i am humbled by it. I hope what I contribute can one day be half as good as what is here. Feel free to say hey and I will read and comment on your works. Hope to talk to you all soon

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 2

When the proprieter of the Bee and Barb saw Halas he proclaimed “Get that thief out of here!” Of course Faendal was quick to calm the man down and after some smoothing over handed the man 50 septims.
Faendal rolled his eyes at Halas. “Where else have you stolen from and still owe money?”

Halas thought for a moment and then began to speak. Faendal put his hand up “Its ok I really don’t want to know.”

The barmaid happily came over and began to place a large spread before Halas and Faendal. The anticipation was overwhelming for the boy. He had eaten nothing but scraps for weeks, his body slowly turning into something less. Faendal watched as Halas prepared to gorge himself and uttered some cautionary advice, “Slowly there Halas. I can’t have you rupturing something. Besides you have a long way to go today” Halas wanted to take his time eating but could not help but gorging on the foods.

Faendal took the opportunity to scan the environment. Willow was by the door on the bench and she nodded slowly in Faendal’s direction. Halas was so busy licking his fingers and tearing apart a hunk of steak that he did not see the exchange.

Faendal watched Halas and shook his head. This was going to catch up with him he thought. Willow smiled slightly as she saw the task Faendal had set up for himself and then she took to continue her gnawing of the bread she had.

Finally after about 20 minutes of near continuous eating Halas sat back smiling and seeming to daze off. “All set then?” Faendal asked and then got up. “Umm can I sit here for a while?” He asked , slightly annoyed that Faendal had interrupted his post meal bliss. “No time” , Faendal was short and seemed to usher Halas out of his chair.

“Besides the other Ranger is watching us and likely going to joke with me later about how you gorged yourself like a horker!”

Halas looked around and saw many people in the Inn. But then he saw a small figure in a cowl peering downward but something gave him the feeling that she still knew everything that was going on. “Gods I didn’t even see her.”

Faendal smiled and put his hand on Halas’s shoulder, “That is the idea”.

The two gathered their stuff and headed toward the north door of the inn. Willow watched with admiration and almost pity about the task Faendal had. If that boy was a Sundvor it didn’t really show. She would be impressed if the boy lasted a month under Faendal’s training. Willow was a gifted archer and she still struggled with the rigors of the training. Not to mention all the additional skills and knowledge that was piled onto an apprentices shoulders. She shook her head as she recalled her training. She shrugged. “When you start with nothing its easy to get something.”

The Jarl had been busy and Willow left the Bee and Barb and headed back to Mystveil keep to see if she could get her ear for a few minutes.

Halas and Faendal headed toward the North Gate of Riften. The guards opened up the creaky doors and the pair headed toward the small Khajiit selling area.

A small fire was burning and one of the females was cooking some fish. Normally that would sound good to Halas but his stomach was feeling uncomfortable at the moment. Halas watched as Faendal negotiated with the Khajiit for lower prices on the coffee and salt. It was an exchange that had to be quick and intelligent. Finally Faendal told the Khajiit, “You know I am addicted to coffee and that I will be a lifetime customer. You can’t argue with loyalty and a consistent customer.”

The female Khajiit scratched behind her ear and gave the reply, “This one thinks you are correct. If you buy some extra I will cut four septims off the price of each coffee bag.”

“Six septims off of each bag and I will buy two extra bags and throw in some salt with the deal.” Faendal countered feeling as if the deal would be solid.

“Six septims yes but not free salt. This one feels salt is too rare in Skyrim to simply give away.” Faendal was a little deflated but tried the first trick again. His claim of a loyal customer fell on blind ears this time. Faendal took the deal because he still got a discounted price for each item even though he paid a larger amount of money for the whole purchase.

The two walked up to the stables and Halas seemed confused. “I had no idea what you two were doing but it sounded like you were fighting and yet everyone was happy.” Faendal smiled looking straight ahead “It is called bartering and it is a skill few can master. That Khajiit manages to win every time. I never get exactly the deal I want.”

Halas was distracted by a brown horse with leather armor. “Is that your horse?” , he asked excitedly. “Yes that is Rugot.” Faendal rubbed the horses neck and noticed how shiny it was. He nodded to the stablemaster and he replied “Been feed, brushed, and cleaned. He even laid down for about an hour while you were in town.” The stable master seemed proud of his work and Faendal counted out 20 septims to give to the stable master. He bowed slightly and walked away. “A healthy tip goes a long way”, he said with a philosophical demeanor.

“Where will I sit?” Asked Halas. He only saw a single rider saddle and bags for belongings. Faendal quickly swept up into the saddle in a fluid motion. Just as he positioned himself he looked down at the new apprentice, “you have to walk Halas.”

Halas looked annoyed. But before he could continue Faendal quickly told him that it would be good for him to walk off that heavy meal. “Well where are we going then?” Halas looked enthusiastic but his full belly was protesting the best it could. He rubbed it and grimaced. “We are going to travel to Ivarstead and spend the night there.” Faendal nudged Rugot gently forward. The horse was ready to go after so much pampering. He too had to work off all the oats the stablemaster had fed him. Halas followed but had to walk faster than he was used to keep up with Faendal. It was a three hour ride to Ivarstead and Faendal judged they head about 3 ½ hours of sunlight left.

At first Halas was excited to be leaving Riften but the pace he had to walk meant that he had to occasionally jog to keep up with the Ranger. As they traveled along Lake Honrich , Halas looked at some of the families that were catching some late afternoon fish and looked envious at them. Faendal noticed and for the next hour his apprentice went on and on about how some of the orphans would be allowed to go fishing and how fun it was to catch fish and then eat them. He knew all the fish in the lake and which ones were good and which ones could actually hurt you if you ate them. Salmon and Slaughterfish were his favorites and he described several recipes to Faendal as they worked their way toward Ivarstead.

They took a break on a narrow part of the road that seemed pretty safe. Faendal could see all around and Halas was taken aback by a view of a castle on the river. “That is Treva’s watch. It belongs to a wealthy family and is the most noteworthy building on the Treva River.” Faendal felt like a bit of a guide telling Halas all that information. But Halas had never been far from Riften. All of this would be new to him. Faendal smiled inwardly as he realized how much wonder Halas would be seeing.

Halas wanted to lay down on a rock and bask in the late afternoon sun but Faendal prodded him to keep moving. “We are halfway there, “ he stated with encouragement.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. Finally they crossed the bridge to Ivarstead and Faendal pointed out Lake Geir. Halas didn’t seem to care as his feet were sore.

Before crossing the bridge they stabled Rugot and Faendal spent a few moments rubbing down his horse and then headed off toward the Inn. Halas wasn’t hungry but he was thirsty and both Ranger and apprentice had some ale. It was sunset and the Vilemyr Inn was filling up with patrons. Unlike the major towns around Skyrim, Ivarsted was a sleepy village. The patrons would file out early and the two would have the Inn for themselves. Vilemyr introduced himself to Halas and Halas did the same back. Faendal and Vilemyr chatted back and forth about various things but Halas suddenly felt really tired.

Excusing himself he went to the room and sat on the bed. He took of the boots and his feet seemed to be free of chains. He wiggled his toes a bit and then set about arranging his stuff. He saw a book on the table but decided he was too tired to read. He laid down and the sounds of the Inn seemed to fade. Before he knew it his brain was dreaming and processing all of the things he had seen today.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 3

Halas thought he was falling when he abruptly woke up to Faendal gently shaking his shoulder. “Lets go sleepyhead.” He said half teasingly. Halas had one of those moments where when someone wakes up they think they are in their own bed. He realized quickly that he was not and a flood of memories of the previous day flew through his brain. He was groggy and rubbed his eyes a few times and got up. His feet were a little sore but not too bad. He put on his shoes and began to check around for his stuff.

Despite his huge meal the previous day his stomach was growling. Faendal was in the next room chatting with the Innkeeper about various things and Halas smelled coffee for the first time.

The very smell seemed to awaken him and he walked out into the main area of the tavern and yawned some of the sleep away. Faendal had a cheese platter and some venison in front of him and Halas eagerly anticipated his breakfast. He tried the coffee for the first time and with some honey it was quite good. Robust and hearty it seemed to flow through his veins as soon as it hit his stomach.

“This is really good!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. The innkeeper wiped the counter around the two and smiled. “Well now I would say this young man will truly be a ranger. Ranger’s love their coffee.” Faendal nodded slowly. With late nights and cold nights and having to keep your edge the southern import grew on the Rangers as an official drink of sorts. It helped keep them on their toes and helped them get through late watches.

After spending a few minutes by the fire, finishing their brew , the two headed outside to a crisp but comfortable morning. It was dawn and Halas had a spectacular view of Lake Geir at sunrise. They walked to the stables where Faendal and Rugot seemed to talk to each other without talking.

As a wood elf, Faendal had the gift of being able to communicate with animals. His bond with his horse was greater than any normal person could hope for. As Faendal pulled an apple out of his pocket the horse eagerly devoured the fruit, seemingly to say thank you with his eye movements and ear twitches.

Halas watched carefully and asked how he did it. “Well I took an apple out of my pocket and he ate it, “ said Faendal sarcastically. “You know what I mean…the whole communicating with the horse without words.” Retorted Halas. “I can’t explain it. It is a gift from my ancestors. Much like you have the gift of not feeling the brutal cut of the cold as much as others.”

Faendal didn’t really answer the question but then again he truly didn’t know how he did it. It was just natural, almost as natural as a woodelf picking up a bow. It was engrained in their nature.
Faendal moved onto the back of the horse in an effortless motion and Halas sighed to himself realizing that he was once again walking.

Faendal moved Rugot at a steady walk which was slightly faster than Halas’s walk. So once again Halas had to jog periodically to catch up. However the morning was spectacular and for the first time in months the dew had replaced frost in the morning. Already birds were flitting about going after butterflies and other insects.

As they walked through the lush woods of The Rift a small elk was on the path ahead of them and stayed just long enough for Halas to get a good view of the animal before it bounded off into the trees.

A cool wind seem to come down the road and between the trees the towering wall of mountain lay ahead. Faendal looked at Halas and said, “I have good news and bad news.” Halas sighed. He always took the bad news first. It seemed to make it better. “Ok what is the bad news?” He asked curious but also resigned.
Faendal pointed at the twisting path ahead. “We have a long uphill climb ahead of us.” Halas grimaced a bit but then continued, “ and the good news?” Faendal smiled gently, “well you get to walk downhill after that.”

Somehow Halas thought the ranger was tormenting him but he seemed so cheery all the time it just didn’t seem plausible. They ascended the pass and the temperature plummeted. It would be cold in the middle of the day here, but early in the morning it was particularly cold. The wind didn’t help the matter.
Halas may have Nord blood but he wasn’t used to the cold that much. He had lived in Riften all his life. Faendal jumped down out of his saddle and ushered Halas to a plant with bright red berries. “These are snowberries. Most people don’t realize this but they can help protect your exposed skin from the cold.” Halas seemed intrigued. Faendal gathered a handful of berries and rubbed them over his arms, the small berries breaking under the pressure. “you try it now,” he said nodding toward the bush.

Halas rubbed the juice of the berries over his hands and at first felt a cooling sensation. But after a few moments a deep warmth seemed to come from his skin. “Wow that’s incredible!” Halas said excitedly. “You will learn about many of the plants that live all around you. I will show you how to use them to make potions too.” Halas continued to look at his hands. “You mean alchemy right?” , he said with great curiosity. “Yes alchemy can be just as much a weapon as a dagger and an arrow. For a ranger it can mean the difference between life and death. Not just for you but for your enemies.” Halas let the words reverberate in his head as he thought about it. Until now he had not realized how dangerous this apprenticeship might be.


Putting that aside they continued their climb and Halas was not cold. Partly this was due to the snowberries but mostly because he was sucking air into his lungs and his heart was throbbing as he forced his body up the steep inclines. They reached the summit and began the descent. It was not nearly as steep and took much less effort.

The effect of the snowberries had worn off and now Halas began to search actively for another snowberry bush. When he found one he repeated the procedure but Faendal warned him not to put it on his face. Should it get in his eyes it would be terribly painful. Halas noted that and the two moved down the mountain pass and into the town of Helgen.

It was late morning and Faendal said it was about another hour to Riverwood. They were descending into the valley where lake Ilinalta eventually formed into the White River. Even hear on the quiet breeze they could hear the faint rushing of water. Across the valley, built into the hillside, was a ruin. Faendal commented quietly. “Bleakfalls Barrow that place is called. People go there searching for treasure but only find nightmares.”

Halas was getting ready to ask a question when Faendal continued. “Somehow the dead do not rest. Foolish adventurers go there to find treasure and usually find tragedy.”

Faendal spurred Rugot on and the two made their right hand turn below Helgen towards Riverwood. As they began their descent, Faendal told Halas to look at the snow on the edge of the road. “What do you see?”, he inquired.

Halas studied the ground and said he saw some kind of tracks. Faendal then pointed out the distinct features of the track and told Halas it was a fox. He added that it was not in a hurry and probably weighed about 20-25 pounds. Halas went to ask how he knew all that but decided not to. He figured he would learn about that in due time as well. Faendal did not need to explain the importance of being able to follow tracks.

Halas looked over the boulders that made the snaking path down the mountain. The air seemed noticeably warmer as they moved down the mountain. Below them was a village nestled between High Hrothgar and the White River. They had reached Riverwood.

 

[Chirurgeon]

hmm. anyone fancy this story so far?

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 4


Riverwood was a small hamlet that consisted of an Inn, Blacksmith, General Store, and a mill. It consists of several families that call it home. On the edge of Whiterun Hold it is one of two villages inside of Whiterun hold. Rorikstead is the other one. While Rorikstead produces vegetables, Riverwood produces wood.

Faendal and Halas descended into the town and stabled the horses at Faendal’s modest home. It belonged to someone else before him but he moved in and will spend a week or so a month, in the town helping out with various things. The first thing they did was head to see Hilde outside her home. A feisty woman that asked if Halas was the new woodcutter. “Actually ma'am I am a Ranger’s apprentice.” He replied with relative pride.

“Actually he will be the woodcutter. I see you have a lot of wood stacked up over there and not a lot of firewood.” Halas glared at Faendal incrediously. Clearly he was not going to come all this way to chop firewood for the local villagers! That is no job for a ranger.

Faendal could see the rage in Halas. His whole body spoke of it. Faendal escorted him to the island where the woodpile was so that they were out of relative earshot. “You seem to have a problem helping out the villagers that live in the hold we are sworn to protect?” He asked in a rather diplomatic and clever way.

Halas kicked the ground and stated the obvious. “chopping firewood is not a ranger’s job. “ Faendal crossed his arms with one of his eyebrows going up at the same time. “So tell me how you are going to gain the trust of the people of the hold if you don’t help them?”

“Maybe we could go after bandits, thieves, and bears instead!” Halas retorted. Faendal continued, “And if there are no thieves, bears, or brigands around?”

Halas tried to come up with an answer. “Then we go find them.”

Faendal sighed and began to explain to Halas that a ranger’s job is not just killing with a bow. It is about building a relationship with people. Rangers provide meat for free to villages and towns to gain the respect of the people. They do manual labor to not just help the people but to make themselves strong as well. “No offense Halas but you are scrawny. You are not even strong enough to pull the string on a hunting bow. All those years of malnourishment, and your recent imprisonment has taken its toll.”

Halas of course knew the ranger was right but didn’t want to face the fact that he was going to be doing manual labor as a way of training. But if it helped him get stronger he figured why not. However he really did wonder what it would be like to pull a bow back and let an arrow hit its target.

Faendal frowned when he delivered the rest of the reason for the work. “Its not like you wouldn’t be paid. Alvor and Hod will pay you for the work you do. You can earn 50 Septims a day if you like.” Halas nodded that he did need some money to buy food and other necessities. “Besides you accrued a lot of debt with myself and Willow. Willow paid off the nearly 500 septims you owed the thieves guild and I paid your bounty to get you out of Riften Jail.” Halas was ashamed and kept his head down. “I am sorry about all that” He sighed with resignation.

“Its ok because now you have a chance to earn all that back. A few weeks of work here and you will be well on your way. At 200 septims a week for five weeks you will have your debt repaid. And you will be a lot stronger when it comes time to start using your bow.” Faendal turned around and walked toward a table with a wood axe on it.

“Pick up that axe and follow me. “ Faendal asked with a bit of enthusiasm. “You are well on your way to becoming a ranger!” He exclaimed.

Halas could detect the jabbing he was getting from his master but knew that he was right. Faendal put him in front of the stump that was used as a wood block and put a 12 inch long piece of wood on it. Faendal showed Halas how to chop the wood and then gave the axe back to Halas. “Now you try it.”
Halas held the axe like Faendal did and looked at the log that Faendal had placed. He put all his effort into sending the axe straight into the wood. However he was off with his aim and worse yet the head of the axe was tilted at an angle. The axe hit the log on the edge and the dull thud of the axe head sent a storm of vibrations into the handle and into his hands. Halas dropped the axe and started shaking his hands from the pain of the shock. “Ouch!!” He exclaimed loudly.

Faendal’s face squinted up at the sound of the axe head on the top of the log. The log was still sitting there unfazed by attempted injury of the axe to it.

Faendal patiently taught Halas the art of wood chopping. Over the course of an hour Halas was much better. And in an hour he had his first real string of successes, the split logs flying off to each side of the chopping block. But now there was another problem plaguing him. His hands were getting sore and raw. His fingers didn’t want to move. Faendal knew it was time for a break and walked him over to where Alvor was working on some things at his forge. Alvor seemed cheery and simple. He also seemed quite inclined to help out Halas. Faendal asked if he had any gloves. “I just happen to have an extra pair. Lets say I give them to you for 10 septims.”

Halas looked down again. He had no money. But then he had an idea. “How about if I give you 10 pieces of firewood for your forge for the gloves?” His question seemed to hang in the air for a few minutes. Alvor rubbed his chin and smiled. “It’s a deal!” he turned around and grabbed the gloves off of the table and handed them to Halas. Halas put them on and headed back to the logpile where he gathered up ten pieces of firewood and brought them over to the forge.

Halas could not help but smile. He had made a deal with the blacksmith and had a pair of gloves to show for it. Halas was beginning to see the power of bartering. If you have something that someone needs you too can get something you need.

Faendal then led Halas to speak to Hod, who ran the woodmill. He wasn’t quite as cheery as Alvor but he did say that he would pay one septim for every piece of firewood. He then told Faendal that its been a while since the charcoal from the barrels had been emptied. Faendal nodded and then walked to a table and picked up a big burlap bag.

Faendal explained as they walked to each house and opened up a barrel usually on the corner of the building. “Each house has a fireplace, and each day the ashes and charcoal are dumped out into a barrel.” He pointed at several of the barrels and then continued. “Now each week you will need to empty these barrels. The charcoal is like gold to a blacksmith. It burns hotter in the smelter then just wood. But the problem is that most of what is in the barrel is ash.

Some of the ash is used to make soaps and used in gardens, but most is dumped into the barrel.” Faendal opened up the barrel by the Inn and indeed it was nearly filled to the top with ash and coals. Next to the wall was a large shovel that could just fit into the barrel. “Take that shovel and lay the barrel on its side and then scoop up the ash and coals.” Halas followed the directions and waited for Faendal. “Now hold the shovel with one hand and open the mouth of the bag with the other.” He instructed slowly.

Halas struggled at first but quickly got the hang of it. Each barrel, if full, could fit into the bag. Soon he had a bag full of ash and coal.

Faendal nodded his approval. “Come with me. Just bring the bag.” Halas dropped the shovel and went with Faendal. Faendal took the bag from Halas and crouched down next to the stream. Here the water was running swiftly and Faendal took off his boots and waded into the water with the bag. He dropped it in front of him and it sank underwater. As the ash became wet it began to ooze out of the holes in the burlap bag and stained the water a chalky color. Faendal rhythmically shook the bag until there was no more ash left. About ¼ of the bag had charcoal in it. Each one a nugget about the size of a walnut.

“Now you could pick each one of these out of the ash but this seems to be a much easier way.” He said with a basic logic. Halas nodded as they proceeded to do the same to all the barrels in the village. Faendal instructed Halas that this needed to be done each week. There was a pile of charcoal near the smelter but Faendal explained that this charcoal was wet so you needed to let it dry. There was another barrel behind the blacksmith’s house that was covered with a roof and had all sorts of holes in it. Faendal handed him the bag, “now drop the charcoal into the barrel.” Halas did so and in the process Faendal explained that the barrel would allow airflow.

By now it was about an hour from dark. Faendal took out a horn and called it. It was a beautiful horn made from mammoth tusk and when he did he heard the whinny of a horse and Rugot came trotting up to where Faendal was. Halas smiled and thought that was just absolutely magical. “How did you train him to do that?” Halas asked, still in amazement. “One day I will show you.”

Faendal smiled at his apprentice. “I must go to speak to the Jarl and attend other duties throughout the hold.” He rubbed the neck of Rugot affectionately. “I will be gone for several weeks. I spoke to Hod and Alvor and they will put you to work and pay you. You are in good hands with those two. Get to know the rest of the townsfolk and remember what I told you.” His voice trailed off as if to ask Halas to tell him what he had said earlier.

“I know I have to gain the respect of the people I protect in the hold.” Faendal smiled again and nodded at Halas as he began to amble his way through town.

Halas watched as the shadows moved across the horse and rider. He watched him cross the bridge and continued down the road that would eventually lead to Whiterun. Halas felt the cool spring breeze and the setting sun and suddenly felt very sad. It seemed he was alone again. But when he looked around he realized he wasn’t. This was his first step to becoming a ranger.

The people genuinely liked and respected Faendal. They seemed like family to Faendal. Family was the one thing that Halas has always wanted. He took a deep breath and realized that his stomach was churning. He had food in his pack and decided to head over to the Sleeping Giant Inn. He knew the place would be busy in the evenings and hoped to introduce himself to the rest of the townspeople.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 5​

The Sleeping giant Inn was quite lively but Halas was anything but. He did his best to talk to people but he felt completely exhausted. After his meal and a mug of mead he could barely stand. He realized he needed sleep and ambled his way back to Faendal’s house.

It was cool and musty inside as the fire had been out since the morning. He debated lighting a fire but the warmth of the mead and the call of the bed overpowered that urge. Instead he curled up into bed to begin a long nights sleep.

However at around midnight he woke up shivering and one of his legs had cramped. Screaming in agony he worked out the cramp and made his way to the fireplace. Here he lit a fire, something he was good at from the orphanage, and sat down in front of it. The flames built up and so did the heat. Halas felt warmth again. He could almost see his breath in the small cabin, an indication of how cold it got. He got back up and wondered back to his bed. He finally did sleep, and it was cold in the morning but the cold wasn’t really bothering him.

Every muscle in his body ached. His toes to his forehead were sore from the exertion the day before. He had not done so much exercise in a while and his body was protesting everything he tried to do. Making breakfast was a chore and he had to be down at the woodmill in a while.

Finally having heated up some salted beef and bread and polishing off two bladders worth of water he felt a little better. This was true until he got up to walk down to the mill. Everything hurt and this day was going to be painful.

It was still early and a fog covered the village. The fog seemed to muffle the sounds of everything distant. The bird calls were faint as well as his visibility. He started thinking about what to do first when he heard footfalls behind him. “Morning young ranger!” , he said with way too much enthusiasm for that time of day. Hod took a quick look at the boy and frowned a bit. “You look like you have been rode hard and put up wet!”

Halas had heard the phrase before, its origin from the idea that horses rode in wet weather that were not dried off along with their saddle looked terrible the next morning. Halas did not know how bad he looked. Despite the long sleep he still felt exhausted. Halas groaned as he realized in his malaise he had forgotten to make coffee. He really liked the drink and decided he better do that next time.

Hod began to talk to him about how much wood needed to be chopped. “You know how much wood is in a full cord boy?” He asked with a bit of doubt on his face.

“I know its a lot because we had a couple of cords of wood behind the orphanage.”

Hod chuckled and nodded his head. “A face cord is what most people keep in the front for easy getting to.” He pointed at Hilde’s house that had about 20 pieces up against the wall. “That is going to be 32 logs.” He paused for a moment and then explained that a full cord would be four logs deep, four logs tall, and eight logs wide. “It basically looks like an eight foot elongated square.”

Halas smiled at that because he knew that an elongated square was a rectangle but Hod did not use that term. One advantage of living at the orphanage was that there were plenty of books and all the children went to a school of sorts in the afternoons after they were done with their chores.

“You are going to need 128 logs to make a full cord.” He stated with a bit of pride. He went on to say that he could chop a cord of wood himself in a work day. That sounded impressive but Halas thought that was attainable.

“Ok so I need 64 logs split so that makes 128.” Halas said to Hod and to make sure himself.
Hod waved his hand and dismissed what he had said. “No No No! “ He sighed and looked at Halas as if to see if he was actually listening. “You need 128 logs and each one is split!”

Halas suddenly felt overwhelmed. His shoulders slumped as if he was carrying a cord of wood on his shoulders. He realized he was going to need 256 split logs to make a full cord of wood. He looked at the woodpile and sighed. “Better get crackin” Hod said with a grin and then told Halas that he was heading off to Whiterun for the day to get some supplies. Suddenly that axe felt heavier.

Halas put on his gloves. It was his armor against the evil axe handle that was going to try and wear him out. He wound up ignoring the pain and every six logs or so would carry them to the back of Hilde’s house and stack them up to make a full cord of wood.

He got a good sweat going and at one point took off his cloak. He became methodical and each time he struck a log perfectly pretended it was an arrow finding a target. If his mind wondered then so did his aim. He actually needed a clear head to do this job. The nice thing was that every six logs he could stop and make a trip to his destination. By lunch time he had split 32 logs. “Less than a hundred to go”, he told himself.

He stopped for lunch and walked up to Faendal’s house. He looked at the bed and thought how good it would be to lay down. Instead he opted to go back to work after he ate lunch and drank some coffee. He didn’t want to disappoint. But then again he didn’t feel like chopping wood till dinner either. He figured he could finish half a cord of wood by the end of the day. But the task was daunting. Each house would need two full cords of wood. The inn and the blacksmith would need four each. To support the town for the next several months he would have to cut 18 cords of wood. He stopped and drew some math in the dirt. When he stood up he felt dizzy.

He would have to split 2300 pieces of wood to make that many cords. He took a deep breath and continued on.

Alvor stopped him on the way to the woodpile and asked if he would help him. “I could use some help with the smelter if you don’t mind.” He looked at Halas and smiled. It is as if he knew that he needed a break from the monotony of chopping wood. Halas agreed and over the next few hours learned the basics of how to smelt iron.

Alvor explained that the charcoal burned hot and seem to strip away the impurities of the metal put into the smelter. As he explained he showed Halas how to load the smelter with charcoal and with a bellow began to make a super-hot fire inside the smelter. He told Halas that when the smoke went from black to a light grey then it was ready for Ore.

Halas put the ore in a chamber above the hole where the charcoal went. When he opened it, a great breath of hot air came out. “Like a dragon breathing isn’t it?” Joked Alvor. Well one thing Halas knew is that he wouldn’t be cold working with the smelter.

It began to make a sizzling sound and Alvor told Halas to watch the smoke again. It turned black as the impurities from the metal lifted away into the afternoon. However after a while it began to get lighter until it was a light grey again.

“Alright lad, now use these tongs and tilt the receptacle forward,” Alvor instructed as he handed the tongs to Halas. The hot liquid poured into an ingot shaped box on the outside of the smelter. The heat was intense and the liquid slowly cooled and went through a wide spectrum of colors as it did. “Just remember to keep adding ore a little bit at a time until the receptacle inside the smelter is full. Otherwise you won’t get a full ingot,” his instruction contained years of experience.

Alvor also told him to clean the ore the best he could before putting into the smelter. Otherwise it would take too long to get it to melt and the ingot may wind up with impurities that won’t leave the metal.
Alvor also told him that while he waited for the smoke to turn from black to grey that he could clean ore that would be going into the smelter next.

So the afternoon was spent working with iron ore and cleaning it and feeding it into the smelter. It was slow work but the results were impressive. Iron ingots were the basis for many things and Halas had a certain pride of what he was doing. Alvor encouraged him and after three hours Halas had four iron ingots to show. One of them was not good enough and would have to be melted down again. But for his first time it was a good showing.

Alvor then told him to go see Lucan at the general store. Hod had left his pay there and he was to pick it up. He was glad to get some coin for what he did and soon he was heading off to talk to some of the townspeople.

Frodnar, Hod’s son, was outside the Sleeping Giant Inn and made it a point that since Halas was the new guy in town that if Halas got on his badside he would prank him. This kid sounded like some of the younger orphan’s in Riften and he smiled. He remembered fondly helping the younger kids with chores and studies. His dog Stump seemed very loyal and the two were constantly together.

Inside the Inn he met the grumpy Orgnar that took care of the customers. Delphine ran the inn but seemed a bit mysterious to Halas. She asked some questions about how the apprenticeship was going and Halas told her it was going well. However secretly he wanted to say something like “I will let you know when I start actually training.”

Halas was just as tired as the day before but managed to eat a meal and listen to some music for a while. People filtered into the inn at the end of the day and they would likely leave before the midnight hour.
Halas got up after his meal and a few people bid him good night. He replied politely and walked to the cabin. With the sun down the temperature fell with it. “Gonna need to get a fire going,” he thought to himself.

Inside the cabin he did get a fire going and looked around. He saw some books on the shelf and picked one of them up called “Kill or Be Killed”. It was a serious but at the same time lighthearted read about how to fight with hand to hand weapons and things like shields and hammers. Halas was intrigued but knew deep down that he probably couldn’t handle the massive weight of something like a warhammer.

As he read his eyes got heavy and he set the book to the side and realized a good amount of time had gone by. He took off his boots and walked over to the fire. He picked up a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass. Looking at the dark liquid it seemed to draw him in. He had barely finished half of it when he laid down and fell asleep for several hours. He woke up long enough to put some more wood on the fire and then stumbled back to bed.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 6​

The days began to blur and Halas fell into a routine. Each day he would get up and make a breakfast. He would make coffee and then have some bread with melted goat cheese or Eidar cheese inside of it or he would dip it in it. He would sometimes eat an apple before heading down to the chopping block.

Riverwood’s mill had several piles of firewood that needed to be chopped. Each morning he would work until noon splitting logs and carrying them to the various buildings. Slowly the foundation of a season’s worth of firewood was being laid. Starting small he gradually began to chop more and more wood each day. He knew that Hod could chop a full cord in one day and he wanted to match that. Halas was focused on the task at hand until he was splitting nearly 90 logs a day. Another 30 and he would be able to claim a cord of wood a day.

In the afternoons, Alvor worked with him. He tasked Halas with conditioning some leather with troll fat. Halas would heat the fat and the leather and through a finger aching process make the leather supple by working the fat into the leather. He would spend hours working on this.

When his fingers hurt he would stop and sweep around the forge or work on making iron Ingots. Halas spent one of the afternoons gathering charcoal from the barrels around the village, washing the bag in the river to remove the ash.

One afternoon, after chopping 94 pieces of firewood, Halas was working with Alvor and he showed Halas how to sew leather together.
“I think its time you made some new boots for yourself.” He stated bluntly as Halas was conditioning some leather.

Halas looked up with interest and then stayed quiet as Alvor continued, “Take this leather and cut it into strips.” He gave Halas a very sharp iron dagger and before he cut the leather drew vertical lines with charcoal to show Halas how wide to make the cuts.

After a while Halas had four roughly equal pieces. Alvor looked at them with a scowl. “Strip one of them in half again.”

Halas did as he was told and continued to work diligently as Alvor worked him through the process. Alvor punched some rivets onto two edges of leather and then drew more lines showing Halas where to cut. Halas continued to work but could not see what he was actually making. It was like looking at individual pieces of a puzzle without the whole thing. Halas could not see how this leather was going to be boots.

Alvor brought out a large needle and heavy thread. Holding it up so that Halas could see it he explained some of the fine details of smithing. “Now most people think that smiths just swing hammers and mold metal. That’s fine and all but it isn’t all we do lad. We are also tailors.” He picked up a piece of leather that Halas had and laid it next to another piece. He laid one of the leather strips over the seam and methodically punched small holes through the leather with something that looked like a needle but was actually a leather punch.

Every half centimeter or so was a hole and now he began to weave the thread through the three pieces of leather. He clamped the end that he started so that he could maintain tension and the heavy thread flattened the leather underneath it like a snake coiling around its prey. “The trick is to keep the string extremely tight but to keep the same tightness. If it gets loose for a second you will get a gap in your seam.” He said this without hesitation. Alvor’s fingers moved incredibly fast. He could practically do it with his eyes closed. He seemed to toss the needle in the air after pulling it through the leather to dive back through another hole. A beautiful X pattern flowed down the seam. When he was was done he gave it to Halas.

“Rip it apart boy.” Halas took the leather but felt bad. Alvor had spent several minutes making the seam, and wondered what would happen if he shredded the blacksmith’s creation.

He pulled as hard as he could but the seam wouldn’t budge. “Thought you were gonna rip it apart did ya?” He smiled and rubbed Halas on the head. Halas looked at the leather pieces and the seam it made and wondered at the strength of it. Within 30 minutes he had made a pair of boots.

Then Alvor took a dagger and cut all the X patterns of the thread and it fell apart. He handed the pieces to Halas. “Guess what?”, as he stood there with his arms crossed. Alvor had a smile on his face. Halas nodded. “You want me to put it back together.” Alvor nodded. “Well yep I do but I am gonna need a dagger while you do that so you can keep that one you been using. “ He turned around and picked up an ingot and put it in the forge coals and began to work the bellow.

“Do you have another dagger?” Halas asked feeling a bit silly. “No sir but I think I will just make one right now.” Alvor smiled as he said this. Being able to craft your own supplies certainly had its advantages.

His first few tries at making the boots were a failure but with Alvor’s guiding hand by the end of the afternoon just in time for dinner he had his creation complete. Slipping them on they felt a little tight and Alvor told him that the leather would conform to his feet and that he needed to keep rubbing troll fat into them each night. He also said to wear them only part of the day so that the leather could finish conditioning and that his feet could adjust.

Halas was grinning from ear to ear at the creation he was wearing. Alvor also noted that the boots were protective against blades and other weapons. “If someone tries to cut your foot off you should be ok. Unless they are determined or use a hammer instead of a sword.” Alvor rubbed his chin as he talked. “One day I will show you some other tricks to making your boots even more protective.” Alvor shrugged his shoulders. “One step at a time lad. Good work today. Now go get your coin from Hod and get to Dinner.”

Halas walked excitedly toward the sleeping giant Inn. He had a grin that could not be erased. The inn was busy and he spent some time talking to Sven, the bard. He thanked Halas for all the wood he had chopped for his mom’s house.

While at the inn, Halas read up on a tale of a man who fought ice wraiths. It was a good story about how he was able to beat the beasts and then sell their teeth to alchemists. Halas wondered about that. When was he going to have time to learn alchemy when he was so busy chopping wood and learning smithing?

He put the book down sometime after a few hours after dark and then began to feel sleepy. He went back to his bed and slept incredibly peacefully. He would completely forget about his new boots until, upon opening his eyes in the morning, he would see them again and his bright smile would light up Faendals house.

The days would continue to pass and his ability to stitch leather, chop wood, and melt ingots would get better and better. Within two weeks his leather tailoring was much better, he could chop a full cord of wood, and could make three ingots an hour in the smelter. Halas was doing better than even he imagined. Better yet he felt a part of something. He felt like he had a role to play. He would often take lunch or dinner with Alvor and his family and began to really get to know the whole village.

The soreness of his muscles faded. His body, fully fed, responded to the physical demands of his work and he was getting noticeably bigger. The scrawniness was fading, to be replaced with rippled leanness.
On the last day of Rain’s hand, just before Second Seed, Halas was finishing up yet another cord of wood. He was almost halfway done with the wood that needed to be chopped. He looked up from his work to hear the neighing of a horse. A hooded and cloaked rider came ambling into Riverwood. Faendal had returned.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 7​

Faendal could see and hear far ahead. Contrary to populare belief a hood didn’t block sound, but if properly worn could capture sound from where the wearer was facing. It was a secret in the lining of the hood that many did not know. As Faendal approached the village and looked at it he could hear all the familiar sounds. In fact long before the villagers heard Rugot’s steps Faendal could tell that everything was normal.
Deep down he hoped that his apprentice was still there and he could not help but smile when he saw Halas splitting wood by the mill.

“He is more resilient than I thought, “ he said to himself quietly. Rugot flicked his ears to his master’s voice and seemed to agree in his own way. Rugot also knew that the two children of the village would be anxious to pet him and brush him. What horse didn’t like that?

Faendal dismounted and Halas approached him. They spent a few minutes talking and then Alvor chimed in about how proficient Halas had become at smithing. “Look at those boots this lad has made!”, he exclaimed. Inwardly Alvor knew that most of the work was his but still Halas had learned quickly.

In the weeks since his arrival, in addition to the boots, Halas had made a leather bandolier and some bracers. Alvor’s guiding hand showed him how to turn leather strips into a crown that could be used to keep his hair back. Many Nords wore long hair with pride and this was a simple but effective way of keeping long hair out of a fight.

Faendal looked at his apprentice and did his best to contain his inward pride. “It seems you have fit in quite well here. I think it might be best if I just go ahead and leave you here.”
Halas was stunned but a laugh from Faendal betrayed his attempt at concealing his jab. Halas smiled and looked down at realizing he had been had.

The rest of the afternoon was preparing for the short journey to Whiterun. Halas was tasked with making some fur armor that would help protect him from the elements. His basic cape would not be enough to protect him. He felt somewhat leftout considering how protective Faendal’s cape was. While the two of them were working together on making the armor, he asked Faendal about it. “When can I get a real cloak and hood like yours?”

Faendal smiled and set down the needle and thread he was using and leaned back for a minute. “Every ranger wears a cloak of the animals he has slain. Every ranger has a cloak to match the terrain.”

Halas wasn’t satisfied with the answer. He had not killed anything other than bugs and did not see that happening anytime soon. “Perhaps I can just buy one,” he said resigned.

“Ah that reminds me. You owe me some money.” Faendal said with a smile and looked at his apprentice for a moment before looking down at his work.

“Ok maybe I won’t buy one right now.” He sighed and turned back to the long seam that he was working on. The fur armor had a soft inner layer of fur and an outer layer of conditioned leather. Alvor looked at the work approvingly and had Halas try it on.

It was snug and Alvor made some adjustments around the arms. “All that wood cutting made your arms bigger lad!” . He grunted and took off the armor and opened up the arm seams a bit and then tried again. This fit was perfect and Halas could not help but smile at his new outfit.

Alvor looked at Faendal who nodded in approval and then handed Halas a scabbard that would hold two daggers. “Here Halas you need a second dagger to make that scabbard complete.” Alvor handed the dagger handle first to Halas. After a few moments Halas had the rudimentary look of a ranger and beamed from ear to ear. Faendal thanked Alvor and tried to give him some money but Alvor waved it away. “That boy has more than paid his way.”

Faendal and Halas walked up to Faendal’s house and Halas realized the place was a mess. He apologized and Faendal scolded him a bit before letting him begin the process of cleaning up. When they were done it was near time for dinner and that was when Faendal presented Halas with a short hunting bow and a quiver of arrows. “It seems you cant be much of a ranger without these.” Halas smiled but was a bit disappointed. Faendal detected it, “Small steps Halas. Master that and you can move up.”


Faendal and Halas spent the next few hours cooking up all sorts of food and drying meats by the fire. Faendal showed Halas the art of drying out food and keeping it in animal skins. “A little hot water and some spice and you have an amazing stew, “ Faendal said as he packed various dried ingredients into small animal skins. Garlic, potatoes, leeks and many other things were added to each pouch. “This is the most important ingredient,” he held up a small bag of seasoning salt. By the end of the night they had a table full of stuff spread out for the journey. “I take it we will wait to put this all on your horse till morning?” Halas asked casually.

“Who said anything about carrying it on the horse. I have an apprentice!” He smiled and turned around and rummaged around in a closet until he pulled out a tanned backpack. “I haven’t used this since my last apprentice. I’d say its time to dust it off.”

Halas seemed defeated. But he was used to such things from his master now. “I cant wait to try it on, “ Halas seemingly sighed as he said it. The two settled in to the sound of the crackling fire and soon Halas felt his eyes growing tired. He was reading a book about Whiterun and felt the words running together. He took off his armor and boots and bedded down on his bedroll for the night. He was tired and ready for sleep. His last thoughts were off what he imagined Whiterun to look like.

***​

Halas was up early and Faendal could not help but see his enthusiasm. After having a solid breakfast the two set out in the cool Spring Morning. As they walked Faendal turned the journey into a teaching moment. There were many things along the way to Whiterun that would benefit a ranger.

Faendal showed Halas a plant called Thistle. It had a milky white sap. “Rule one with plants is to put a little on your skin and then if nothing happens put it into your mouth. Pay attention to the sensation.”

Halas rubbed some of the milky white sap on his skin and it felt warm. It felt just like when he rubbed snowberries together on his hands.

“Recognize the sensation?” Faendal asked casually. “It feels just like snowberries,” replied Halas.
Faendal went on to explain that if you mixed them together you could make a potion that would give your skin and body a higher degree of protection against the element of cold. “Go ahead and collect the flowers and put them in one of the apothecary satchels I gave you. Always keep your ingredients separate though,” Faendal said cautiously.

“Will it blow up or something?” Halas asked naively. Faendal smiled. “No but you can contaminate your potions and make them less useful.”

The two walked over the bridge and showed Halas a mushroom on a dead tree. “Now these large mushrooms only grow on dead trees but with the right ingredients becomes one of the most powerful poisons you can make.”

Halas hesitated reaching out to it. Faendal noted the hesitation and encouraged his apprentice to take a few of the mushrooms. He emphasized the importance of leaving behind some of whatever you take so that the plants can regrow.

“Don’t worry the mushrooms are not dangerous until you combine their poison with other things like slaughterfish eggs and slaughterfish scales.” Faendal looked at his apprentice as they walked and Halas seemed to be a little bit better knowing that.

Faendal also showed him Blue Mountain Flower which is used as a healing agent. It works slowly over a long period of time but it will help you recover if you have been wounded.

The two stopped alongside the White River to see a gorgeous view of the valley in the distance. Halas squinted to see the mountains in the distance and Faendal began to describe various landmarks. Halas seemed excited and then the two continued on. Faendal explained how the White River bent around and headed ultimately to Windhelm where it dumped into the sea.

A little further and Faendal stopped Halas and asked him to look off to the side of the road on the ground. There, amongst some rocks, was something glittering. As Halas got closer he recognized it as the same iron ore that he had been working with the smelter. Faendal had packed a pickaxe and now pulled it out and handed it to Halas. "Pry that ore up so that we can take it back to Alvor," he instructed Halas. Faendal walked a short distance away and sat down on a giant fallen tree and scanned the surrounding area. Keeping a watchful eye was a habit of all rangers.

As Halas gouged the ore out of the rock he found something even different. It was a gem. This gem was garnet. He excitedly brought it back to Faendal. Faendal nodded and looked at the gem. "Keep that little beauty. It will come in handy later." Halas packed it away and the two continued their journey down the hill to the plains of Whiterun.

Faendal had a chance to show Halas many other ingredients and by the time they reached the plains of Whiterun Halas was beginning to mix them up in his head. Faendal reassured him that he would have the most important stuff memorized and then he could experiment with the rest. “Much of alchemy is trial and error,” he recalled Faendal telling him.

There was a brisk breeze on the road to Whiterun. Halas was glad he had his new fur armor. The two made their way to the stable outside the town where two horses were saddled. They had left Rugot in Riverwood.
The two of them walked up to the stablemaster and it is here where Halas would meet his most loyal companion.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 8​

Faendal nodded at the stablemaster and walked up to a pretty mottled horse and began to pet it. Halas followed, but the stablemaster waved him away with a glare and body gestures that indicated it was best if he stood back.

Faendal looked at the horse and muttered some phrases in the old tongue. Faendal had felt the sensation before and it was again coming to him. His mind began to see things differently as he looked into the horses eyes. He could see things that were not his own. The ground was seemingly moving very fast under his feet as he realized he was witnessing a memory of the horse running freely somewhere.

Faendal deepened his concentration. His body was hot and his sweat was oozing from pores all over his body. He could now hear the horse. A basic few words but they were unmistakable. Faendal put his forehead to the forehead of the horse. The memories were intense and he could now reach out and communicate with the beast. The horse was wanting to run. Faendal relaxed him with an old Bosmerian tune that he hummed over and over. Faendal felt weak from his ordeal but pressed on. The horse was lightning fast and Faendal began to repeat the word Suri, over and over. Suri was an ancient elven word for lightning. Faendal implanted the name deep into the mind of the horse.

Halas watched as Faendal seemed to be in a trance and the horse with him. Halas took a sidelong glance at the stablemaster who was looking at the ground, pretending not to notice. Halas felt very uncomfortable but at the same time could not help but to stare. It was an amazing thing to watch. Faendal seemed to be in some sort of bond with the horse. Halas remembered one of the orphans that had bonded like this with a stray cat. The girl was Bosmer so it was natural. However to watch Faendal do it with a horse was something altogether different.

Finally after a long time Faendal slowly backed away from the horse and got his bearings again. He looked around seemingly confused and then proceeded to walk back toward Halas. “You probably wonder what that was all about?”, he asked in an almost sleepy tone.

“Well I wasn’t going to ask too much about it,” said Halas shyly. Faendal nodded and explained that Bosmer’s had a gift with animals. But it took a phenomenal amount of concentration. He gave Halas a beautiful horn.

“This is how you call your horse when he is far away.” Faendal took out his own horn and blew it with a loud and deep guttural sound. It echoed off the nearby mountain and was probably heard all the way back to riverwood.

“Wow that was quite impressive. I have never heard anything that loud.” Halas was in a state of semi mesmerization at the sound of the horn.

Faendal smiled but showed Halas that his horn was shaped slightly differently. “While you were gone I was training your horse. I used the horn that you are holding to get him to come. Your horn has a unique sound that only your horse will respond to. Every horn is different.”

“What do I call my horse?” Faendal leaned over and whispered his name. “Suri”. Halas seemed surprised that he whispered it. Faendal explained that the name of a ranger’s horse was a secret. The only way to ride the horse was by knowing the name. Even most rangers did not know the name of other ranger’s horses.

“Now I want you to blow your horn. Make sure you make it a long solid sound.” Faendal further instructed him how to pucker his lips together to make the sound. Halas did so and was surprised at the sound that came out of the horn.

Suri came running up to the two and Faendal grabbed Halas to keep him from backing away from the 1000 pound animal. Faendal took a small apple out of his pocket and handed it to Halas. Halas took the apple and fed it to Suri who snorted his appreciation. As the apple was eaten both Faendal and Halas petted the horse.

All Ranger horses had an armor of sorts. Made of leather it protected the Ranger’s companion from injury as well as enabling the horse to be fitted with various compartments and storage areas. The armor was typically removed at night and then on a regular basis cleaned and conditioned.

Faendal instructed Halas to whisper “Suri andalastay” to Suri. This was asking permission to ride. Without that the horse would toss the rider. This was so that a ranger’s horse could not be stolen.

Halas took a breath and leaned toward the ear of the horse. He said the words and the horse lowered his head. Halas had not ridden before and Faendal instructed him how to get into the saddle. Over the next few weeks Faendal hoped to train him how to ride a horse. Halas was nervous but seemed determined. “Do I have to ask permission everytime I get on?”

Faendal realized that was a good question. “No once you have permission you don’t have to ask again.” Halas was relieved. The last thing he wanted was to get tossed by a horse.

A moment later another horse came blazing down the road toward the three. Halas felt his jaw drop. Rugot had made the run all the way from Riverwood. It only took him a short period of time to get here too. He snorted and bucked a little at the sight of his master and the new horse. The two horses had met of course because Faendal had done the various trainings with Rugot under his body.

Now all four were in the road and Faendal instructed Halas to lead the way back to Riverwood. Halas was amazed at how he seemed to nearly float on the animal. “Tell him where you want to go and pet him at the same time on his neck, “ instructed Faendal. Halas leaned forward. “Riverwood” The horse shook his head and began to walk quickly toward the destination. Faendal had imprinted various cities and towns on the horse so that with the name of the town the horse and rider could be taken there. The horse knew the way and trotted down the road with ease.

Finally all four of them wound up in riverwood at the Sleeping Giant Inn. Halas now realized he had to get down. Here he was with a backpack and his feet in stirrups. He awkwardly got of the horse and stumbled sideways. His legs got entangled while trying to get his balance and fell hard on the cobblestones.

It was a situation that was so embarrassing that the pain was negated by a sense that everyone would make fun of him. Halas pushed himself up on all fours and felt clumsy as the backpack shifted with every move. Finally he was up and Faendal looked at him. “First time is always the hardest,” he said this as he walked to the inn and went inside.

Inside the sleeping giant Delphine was doing some cleaning and Faendal nodded quietly. For the next several hours Faendal taught Halas the basics of making potions. He gave Halas a mortar and pestle and had him grind up the thistle flowers. Faendal instructed halas to make a slurry of the ingredient in the bowl and then added snowberries. These were also ground together to create a pink liquid. Pouring it into a flask to heat it up, Faendal told him that he would need to let it boil the water off. “You need to let the water boil off a bit to make it still drinkable but also concentrated.”

Halas watched it boil and while that was going on Faendal had him rinse out the mortar and pestle and began to pulverized the mora torpinalla mushroom. Soon he had a brown mush that he placed into another flask to heat up. He then crushed up some slaughterfish eggs that Faendal had given him. Mixing them together with the mora torpinalla he created a really disgusting looking concoction.

The first flask was boiling good and was now a blue color. Faendal instructed him to remove it from the heat and let it cool. While that was cooling he began to work with a third mixture. Faendal noted that Halas was proficient with this and he ventured it was from all his cooking at the orphanage. They chatted a bit about his life at the orphanage. Halas had become quite good at cooking and cleaning.

While Halas was grinding up nirnroot and red mountain flower to make another poison, Faendal left to go make some coffee. Both the Ranger and his apprentice were big fans of the black liquid. Mixed with honey it made for a lovely combination.

Soon Halas had several vials of potions that varied from a light blue to brown to a subtle reddish color. Faendal instructed him to keep them in an easily accessible place such as his bandolier so that he could coat his weapons with poisons and be ready to drink potions that would resist things like frost.

It was past time for dinner and the Sleeping giant Inn had filled up with some of its usual patrons plus some others from outside of Riverwood. As Faendal and Halas exited the inn they mounted their horses and rode to Faendal’s house
.
Faendal told Halas to get plenty of rest. In the morning they would be leaving the cozy village and heading out into the wild.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Chapter 9​

The two woke up and had a hearty breakfast. Halas put on his backpack and all his other gear. It was a fair amount of weight. He grunted as he put the bag on and wondered how he was going to get used to it. Food, camping kit, various pouches with all sorts of alchemy ingredients, and dry firewood all amounted to nearly 50 pounds of gear.

They went outside and the morning was foggy. “Its going to be foggy all day,” Faendal said confidently. The village was still asleep and only the muffled sounds of birds and running water filled the air. As they exited the village Faendal had Halas stop to go through some of the basics of archery.

Faendal explained that there would be much more training but that he believed an apprentice should have the opportunity to see why its important to hone your skills. “Immersion by fire,” Faendal smiled.

Faendal taught the basic scout stance. It would be one that Halas would know all too well in his career as a ranger. Ranger armor had extra padding on the knee area for this very reason. Halas had trouble balancing with the pack on but Faendal made him stay in the stance for what seemed like an eternity.

He showed Halas how to hold the bow in the left hand and then shift weight to pull an arrow from the quiver. Shift it again to ready a shot. All the while the weight on his bag seemed to make the effort harder.
His first shot was awful. They were aiming at a tree and Halas missed. “Not a very good start,” he muttered. Faendal looked at his apprentice, “I seem to remember a boy that couldn’t hit a log with an axe, but I wouldn’t see that now would I?” His statement sunk in. “I guess I need more practice.”

Faendal spotted some birds feeding on the ground. “Ok now take aim at one of those birds.”
Halas went through the motions of shifting his weight and drawing an arrow from the quiver. He notched the arrow and Faendal guided him on his position. “Aim above your target because the arrow will drop with distance,” Faendal reminded him. The bow string had a twang sound as the arrow was released. It sailed towards its target and for a moment Halas was hopeful. But the arrow was off mark and went skidding down the cobbled stones.

Halas was determined and in the distance saw a deer grazing near the river. “Now that is a target I can’t miss!” He was enthusiastic but Faendal was anything but. “You seriously expect to kill that beast with your bow?”

“Well I have poison so even if I don’t right away it should still die.” Faendal made his apprentice turn around and looked into his eyes. For a moment Halas was scared. Faendal was the most serious he has ever been.

“Being a ranger is about compassion.” He pointed at the deer and continued, “you might hit that deer and wound it, but your bow is not strong enough to make a kill shot.” He reached out and snapped open one of the pouches on his bandolier. Halas was starting to tremble some as the seriousness of his master continued, “This poison you made would not be enough to kill that deer.”

There was silence and Faendal lowered his head to the ground. “One of the things about being a Bosmer is that when an animal suffers I feel it. Your goal as a ranger is to minimize that. Be it a deer or an enemy the treatment is the same. The poison you carry is your guarantee to minimize suffering. “

Faendal lifted his head up and looked solemnly at his apprentice, “Only hunt what you can kill Halas. It is true you might strike that deer, and you might kill it with the poison. But what if you don’t?” Halas opened his mouth to answer but Faendal put his hand up.

“That animal might roam for days in agony as the wound you caused festers and eventually through great suffering the beast will die. That is a fate I do not wish on any living creature.”

The two continued in silence. Faendal showed Halas a slaughterfish nest and took the eggs into one of the empty apothecary pouches. Halas collected more thistle, blue and purple mountain flower, red mountain flower, mora topinalla. The ingredients were adding up. The followed the White River toward Lake Ilinata and eventually came upon a small hunter’s camp.

Faendal instructed Halas that it was important to talk to the hunters of an area. They had an intimate knowledge about changes in an area that even a ranger would not know. “Information is your best weapon.” Faendal stated as they bid goodbye to the hunter.

Halas spotted some ore on a nearby slope and he went over and started picking away at it. Wrapping each piece of ore in burlap to keep it from leeching red, it was one of the tricks Faendal had told him about.

They continued walking and Halas continued to gather ingredients and they soon reached a bend in the road that would take them back toward the water. Faendal suddenly gave the down signal with his hand and Halas went into the scout position. It took a moment for Halas to see why. There was a dead carcass on the road about 30 meters away.

Faendal took out his bow and so did Halas. Faendal instinctively walked sideways into some brush and Halas followed, albeit a bit noisier than he should have. Faendal cringed and let out a small sigh. “Sorry” Said Halas.

Having not spotted any movement after a few minutes the two approached the carcass. It had been dragged about 10 feet from where it was killed and there were bloody footprints on the ground.
“Is that a skeever? “ Halas whispered. Faendal looked at his apprentice, “You don’t have to whisper anymore.” He smiled as he said this. Halas was relieved. It was the first time they smiled since Faendal scolded him for wanting to kill the deer. “Yes it is. The question is what happened here?” Faendal was glad to find this as it enabled a good teaching moment for his apprentice.

“Looks like dog tracks. Maybe a hunting dog?” Halas answered hopefully.
Faendal pointed out the pattern and claws and size of the prints. “Wolves did this.”

One of the most difficult types of tracks to tell apart is that of hunting dog and wolf. It usually comes down to size. Wolves typically have very large paws to get through snow.

“Why would the wolves leave their prey?” Halas asked with a bewildered look. “A very good question. I don’t think we can find that out here on the road. He took out his knife and in one fluid motion cut off the tail of the skeever. He handed the tail to Halas. "Put this in one of the apothecary satchels." Halas looked at the nasty blood matted tail and gingerly packed it away. After a few moments Faendal continued.
We would have to do an extensive search along the dirt areas around the road and it could take a while. Also we haven’t had rain in a while and many tracks will have been walked on by others.”

Halas nodded as it made sense. One thing Faendal did notice was that the wolf tracks moved on the road along the lake. They were able to track them on the cobblestones until the blood on the pads of their feet was gone.

“The best way to keep from being tracked is to stay on the road,” Faendal said as he looked at the last tracks that simply stopped.

Faendal squinted. His elven vision superior of that to humans was able to discern some movement in the light mist along the lake.

“A hundred meters ahead is our pack of wolves.” Faendal said thoughtfully. “I want you to go up on those rocks there which should give us a good vantage point. Halas didn’t say anything but his body language spoke volumes. He was tense and could feel his heart racing. Halas knew that one wolf could kill but three wolves was certainly death for a ranger’s apprentice.

From the rocks they could see the three wolves clearly. Faendal already had his arrow notched and was in the scout position. “Aim small and you will miss small,” he said as he let one of his steel broadheads sail forth from his powerful bow. The shot took the wolf in the side sending it careening down the road. Faendal stayed crouched and notched another arrow. The two survivors were coming fast toward their position in the rocks. Halas felt his vision blur and his hands get sweaty. His mouth was dry as the beasts bounded toward them. Faendal let loose another arrow that sent the second wolf tumbling head over heels. The third one was bearing down on Halas and he went to pull the bow back. He hurried the shot and amazingly with the target right in front of him the arrow plunged into the dirt right in front of the beast.

“Stay still!” shouted Faendal. Halas did as he was told and as the beast was just a few feet in front Faendal sent a point blank shot into the wolves side and it collapsed a mere six inches from where Halas was standing.

Halas had been holding his breath and finally let it out as the wolf died in front of him. It was traumatic for him and he felt weak in the knees. Faendal told him to sit down and to eat something. Halas took out an apple and began to eat it, the events of the last few minutes playing through his head over and over.

Finally after a short period Faendal walked over to the nearest wolf and pulled the arrow out. He took out his ranger knife which was made of skyforge steel and began a cut down the abdomen.

“Come over here Halas I want you to see how to skin an animal.” Halas did so but looked at his master with a bit of shame. “I panicked. That wolf was right in front of me and I missed.” Faendal lifted the skin of the animal as he made the incision. “You want to lift up with your blade as you cut or you risk cutting open the guts and that makes cleaning the pelt harder.” He continued to cut right up to the jaw. He began an incision that would go down each leg connecting to the main incision.

Halas was watching but could not shake what had happened. “I panicked.” He said again. Faendal sighed and looked up from his task. “Yes you did. Tell me why?”

Halas basically said he was gripped with fear. He had watched helplessly as Faendal took down the wolves only to panic and not help.

Faendal put his hand on the shoulder of his apprentice. “Think of what you learned. I watched you and although you were scared you did not run away. You stood your ground. That is something to be proud of.”
Halas thought about this but it still bothered him at how much he had bungled everything. Faendal on the other hand thought that his apprentice had made great progress and displayed a unique type of courage. Although Halas could not see that now it would be a vital asset to him later.

For the next hour the pair worked on removing the skins of the wolves. They worked next to the lake so that they could clean their knives. Faendal instructed Halas on how to remove the excess fat on the inside of the skins and to rub salt to help loosen the remaining gristle. It also kept the skins from potentially rotting. When they got back to Riverwood they would rack the skins and finish the cleaning process by washing them in salt water.

“A good wolf skin can fetch almost 200 septims. They are prized for their warmth and unique colors.” Faendal said as he cut a circular incision around the genitals of one of the wolves. He went on to add that these would be the first of Halas’s treated skins and they would not fetch much of a price. Reputation would seem to have an impact on price as well as quality.

The two cleaned up and headed down the road where they ate a late lunch and Halas spotted some movement ahead. “I was wondering when you would see that.” Faendal smiled.

It was a fox and Faendal instructed Halas to coat one of his arrows with the poison. “Even if you don’t get a kill shot a fox is small and the poison will act quickly.” Halas assumed the scout position and took his time to line up the shot. However the fox was walking slowly away and he wasn’t sure how much to aim above. He second guessed himself and the arrow landed next to the fox which took off with lightning speed.

Halas again looked down in shame and Faendal told him to basically stop feeling sorry. He reassured him, “You are doing fine. What did you learn from this shot?” Halas explained how he second guessed himself at the last second and didn’t let his body relax enough.

Faendal nodded and told him that they would be going through much more training later. “I wanted you to see and experience first-hand how important it is to have a good technique when using your bow.”
"Its pretty obvious my technique is awful." He stated sadly.

Faendal had a theory with his apprentices that if you knocked them down then they would rise to the next challenge. Only time would tell with Halas but it seemed to be working.

As they continued their trek toward Half Moon Mill they found some nightshade alongside the road. Faendal explained that this was another ingredient that could be used in poisons. Halas gathered the flowers and put them into one of his bags.

“I am going to be very busy making potions aren’t I?” Halas asked. Faendal nodded. However he was distracted by a distant sound. It was a wolves howl.

“Come quietly. I want you to follow exactly where I walk. If you have to step on a stick make it a small one and make sure it breaks under your foot. Your boots are supple and should conceal the sound of it breaking."

The two skulked through the pine woods until they were behind a boulder. In a small clearing the wolf stood in profile, making a juicy target for any archer. Faendal instructed Halas to dose one of his arrows with poison. Halas did so and the wolf was hardly moving. Going through the motions of before he drew back the bow with the notched arrow. Faendal whispered some instructions. “Aim small miss small.”

Halas had his weight nearly perfectly balanced. He knew he had all the advantage. The wolf was oblivious to their presence. He felt the tension of the bowstring. His back muscles made strong from the weeks chopping wood. They did not protest at all and holding the bow at full tautness was effortless for the apprentice. His vision narrowed. The wolf was in a circle of clarity and the rest of the world seemed to disappear. Halas practically shot the arrow with his eyes. He held his breath and felt his heart -beat. He released the arrow between beats to avoid the microscopic bouncing of the bow.

The arrow left his bow on a beeline toward the target. A soft thud occurred as the bowstring snapped into the bracer on his left forearm. He threw his right arm out and back in a deliberate flowing motion to dissipate the force, and to keep his balance. He simultaneously lowered his bow as he watched with awe as the arrow careened toward its target. There was no sound. Everything seemed to stop. A soft “thwap” sound was all that was heard and the wolf went tumbling sideways.

“Halas smiled brightly and stayed crouched. The wolf tried to get up to run but fell down. Within second its breathing ceased.

As the two approached the wolf Faendal noted that the arrow was a good shot. It went right into the ribcage. However the tumbling had snapped off the arrow shaft so the arrow was worthless.

Halas was in a much better mood as he cleaned the skin of the wolf. The hour was growing late and as they headed up a small hill they could look down and see the mill where they would be spending the night.
Halas spent a moment surveying the area. It had a striking beauty to it. He realized that this is what he wanted to do. The euphoria of nailing that shot with the wolf had given him renewed confidence. A ranger had huge responsibilities. He felt inadequate earlier. What a difference an arrow makes. One single shot and Halas now had the determination to become a ranger. Faendal seemed to notice the more upright and confident stance and put his arm around him. “Let’s go down and set up camp and get some dinner Halas.” The two clamored down the rocks. As they made their way down the slope Faendal smiled inwardly as his apprentice went on and on excitedly about his first kill. Today had been a huge step for Halas, but the road to becoming a ranger was never smooth.

 

[ultimatedovahkiin]

This is really good i especially like all of the pictures you have on here.

 

[Baelor]

Hello.

I just finished Chapter 2 and am really enjoying it. Please continue to maintain this.

 

[Chirurgeon]

Thank you both for the support I will be posting more. Thank you

 

[Azir L'Stros]

I'm really loving this story too so far. It's provided inspiration for my own fan-fiction

 

[Chirurgeon]

Thank you very much. I am actually writing now so may have something up later.

 

[Azir L'Stros]

That's awesome!

 

[Chirurgeon]

 

[Docta Corvina]

This is a neat concept, with the inclusion of screens as illustrations. I haven't read it all yet, but I will continue.