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Ligan breathed roughly, attempting to make his grip as iron as the axe he held in both hands, listening for the approaching footsteps of the nord he saw coming up the path. But when he couldn’t hear that, he pressed his back against a tall and wide tree, peeking his head out and watched for the vague image of a man out of the corner of his eye.
He was never good at this, standing up to people, demanding they give him what they have with threats and escaping. How could he? He was a Bosmer. A small wood elf with thin arms and equipped with leather armour, an iron war axe that was in desperate need to be sharpened and two bottles of potions. A red one to heal his sorry wounds if this went south and a green one to give him that extra boost when he made his escape, successfully or not. He always needed to rely on the others to do the intimidating and jostling for gold and jewelry for him while he stood there as intimidating as he could.
But those idiots were now dead or gone. One was killed by a troll and the other was so stressed from their criminal life that they turned themselves in when they passed Whiterun over a week ago. Better in prison than the Skyrim wilderness. It made sense, it was dangerous out here, but he didn’t want to be put behind bars and locked up in a small room.
Though turning oneself in was more noble than what he was doing, right?
The figure came closer and his body tensed, his fists twisting around the axe handle and Ligan told himself to remember the plan; Just make yourself look big, get the gold and leg it. He didn’t want to get violent. Last thing he needed on his possible bounty was a violence charge or worst case scenario, a murder one. Murder. Could he even bring himself to kill someone?
Enough of the philosophy questions, the nord is here. Just get what you can and run. He was in the forests near Falkreath, so there was plenty of cover.
Ligan bent his knees and jumped out from the brush, standing squared with his axe up high and muscles flexed to full capacity, puffing his chest out and straining himself to look tall.
“All right, hand over your valuables, or I’ll gut you like a fish.” he growled as beastly as he could.
The nord stopped walking and looked down at him. Now that he was up close, Ligan got a good look at him. He was big nord, standing much taller than he was and he looked strong under his brown tunic. Jet black hair reached down his back and draped over his broad shoulders, his equally dark facial hair in contrast with his fair skin. A big scar ran over his strong face, starting from the right side of his forehead, between his sky blue eyes, across his nose and stopping just below the corner of the left side of his mouth.
Ligan felt a part of him regret this. The nord looked strong, but he was unarmed. Foolish. To walk through Skyrim without a weapon is a death sentence. But despite the threat, despite having an axe pointed at him, despite being the one in danger…..the nord didn't look scared. He may have seemed a little surprised when Ligan first jumped out in front of him, but other than that initial moment, he didn't appear fazed.
Ligan fought himself from licking his lips as he grew anxious.
"I won't be asking again."
To the best of his ability, he fronted as a hardened and vicious bandit, willing to draw blood if necessary. His brow and voice were firm and the nord's expression did change. But not into one Ligan was hoping for. The big man looked completely unimpressed.
And he started to walk again. Towards Ligan.
Ligan felt himself beginning to back off "H-hey, I told you to-"
"Step aside." The nord said.
Ligan felt something hit him in the chest. The nord's voice was strong, drowning out Ligan's words entirely. Ligan didn't know what to do for a second.
The nord looked completely unafraid and that meant he needed to get physical to get what he wanted. It was dangerous, but Ligan hadn't eaten properly for days, the hunger pain too much for him to bare.
It was now or never. Ligan rushed forward, raising his axe up high and swinging down with all his might, being sure to turn the weapon mid swing so the blade would miss and he would only bash the nord with a flat end. He swung down and….stopped.
He looked up to see a big white fist engulfing both his hands, the nord standing over him and lifted him up. Ligan stammered before he desperately tried to pull away, but the nord barely budged and the elf tried and kick the man he was just about to rob away from him. The nord then moved his right arm to his side and held Ligan out, adjusted his grip and snatched the axe away.
This pulled Ligan forward and he almost lost his balance, and next thing he knew, the nord swung back and jammed the end of the handle into the elf’s centre, just below the ribs. A shock ran through his body, the air in his lungs forced out and Ligan soon found it very hard to breathe. He dropped to his knees, clutching his midsection tightly as pain ran through him, the epicenter feeling like it was being stabbed by a knife, his eyes bulging at his desperate attempts to suck air in.
He fell on his side and kicked, teeth tight together. He strained his jaw open in attempts to breathe, but pained gasps escaped and he was left struggling. And just when he thought he was suffocating or about to die, his mouth gaped and air rushed back in, allowing Ligan to finally breathe.
Gulping in air, Ligan peered through squinted eyes to see the scarred faced nord looking down at him. The nord still had his axe and raised it high.
Ligan froze, the breath he was fighting to move in and out his lungs stopped and his eyes widened, a cold chill running up his spine and splashing over his head.
So this was it. This is how he dies. Defeated, winded, on the dirt and bludgeon with a blunt axe. Where did he go so wrong?
Foolish question, he knew the answer too well.
The nord’s arm came down, and Ligan shut his eyes, his last thoughts of his family and every happy moment in his life being the last thing he’ll ever see and think of. He hoped he would somehow reunite with them, but ah well.
The axe came down and Ligan let out a loud whimper, fear shooting through him as he braced himself for the impact and….and….
Nothing happened.
He looked through one eye and turned his head to see the axe impeded in the ground inches from his face. Ligan let out a breath of relief before his breathing quickened and looked back up.
The nord was still there, watching him quietly. He didn’t seem unimpressed or annoyed by the presence of the bandit. Now for some odd reason, he looked.….upset. Without a word, Ligan watched from the ground as the nord turned and fished for something in his pocket before dropping something else next to his head. Something that jingled. Ligan's eyes winded to see a purse with gold coins in it and scrambled to his knees as fast as his sore stomach would allow him.
The purse wasn't big, but it felt descant heavy in his hands and it jingled pleasantly when he peeked inside, his eyes widening before his brow furrowed.
"I….why did you-"
"That should be enough for a few nights and meals at the Inn in Falkreath. Stay there and think about what you've done." The nord said as he turned to leave "When you're almost out of gold, use the rest to take a carriage up to Markarth. They're always looking for new miners."
And with that, the nord walked off, not waiting for any thanks or signs of gratitude. Ligan tried to call out to him, but coughing came out of him instead of any appreciated words. By the-how hard did he hit him?
Ligan stood up and looked for the nord only to see he was gone. He weighed the purse in his hand and held it firmly.
'Thank you.' He thought.
The walk to Falkreath was surprisingly uneventful. Ligan thought he would need to worry about wolves or bears or forest spirits jumping out to try and kill him or scare him away from their territory, but the path was calm and peaceful. He reached the large and high guarded settlement and immediately headed in the Dead man's drink, remembering how hungry he was. He ordered a bottle of ale, a big loaf of bread and a cooked chicken breast before he sat down to eat.
He ate with great vigor, earning a laugh from a blonde and tanned nord sitting at a table next to him.
"You okay there, friend? It looks like you haven't eaten in days."
Ligan stopped and looked over at him, feeling a little embarrassed. The nord was wearing studied armour and equipped with a steel sword and large bow, a big red vase sitting next to his potato slices and mug.
“You could say that.” Ligan replied “I was….out hunting, but I’m not very good at it. I just happened to meet a very charitable man on the way here.”
“A charitable man, you say?” the man said, turning to him a little more “Sounds like you ran into Asgar.”
Asgar? That name sounded a little familiar.
“Do you know him?” Ligan asked.
“I know him well. Saved my life a few years back when my hunting party was attacked by spriggans and avenged their deaths.” the nord said, turning his body and moving his armour’s strap aside to show two puncture wounds on the right side of his chest “He gave me some potion and used magic to heal me.”
Ligan’s brows went up “He really went up against spriggans to avenge your friends? And I’m very sorry about your group.”
“It’s alright. They were buried and I gifted Asgar with my lucky dagger. Name’s Valdr, by the way.”
“I’m Ligan.”
Valdr drank for his tankard and a bite of potato “So, Ligan. You staying in Falkreath for long?”
Ligan shook his head “I won’t. Asgar told me that Markarth is looking for workers at the mines. I plan to stay a few days and take a carriage up. But…”. His brows crossed and he swirled his ale around in his hand, glancing down at the coin purse he had “I wish I could thank Asgar properly. I honestly don’t think I deserve his kindness.”
Valdr chuckled lightly “Many people across Skyrim feel the same way. But one doesn’t do great deeds for rewards, they do them because it is the right thing to do. He told me that himself.”
Ligan smiled as he became a little confused “All across Skyrim? How do so many people know him? Are we talking about the same guy here?”
Once those words left his mouth, Valdr, the other patrons at the bar, the red headed worker who was serving drinks, the handsome blonde bard and the innkeeper stopped and stared at him. Ligan’s eyes darted around when he saw all the attention was on him. “Did I say something?”
“Ligan.” Valdr spoke up “What did this man look like? Did he have long black hair and blue eyes?”
“With a big scar on his face?” someone else added.
Ligan nodded “Yeah. He was big, he had black hair and a scar that ran over his face. He had a brown tunic and….” he paused and thought back over the nord. He thought over everything about him, focusing on a part that stuck out the most. “His voice was strong. Like I could feel him speak in my chest.”
Valdr and everyone else shared glances before he learned forward towards him “Do you honestly not know who that was?”
Ligan shook his head and the barmaid scoffed.
“Oh, quit being so cryptic to the young boy.” she said and walked over to him “Lad, that was the Dragonborn you met.”
Ligan’s brow rose thoughtfully and he nodded “Oh, okay.” he turned and took a sip of his ale. And not a moment later, his eyes almost exploded out his head and he spat his drink out, violently looking back at the woman “THE FUCKING WHAT !?”
And with that, the entire tavern erupted into laughter. Fists banged against tablets, drinks from cups splashed on the ground, the faces of the patrons going red with laughter and Ligan sat in the middle of all of it, both still shocked and even more embarrassed than before.
He couldn’t believe it. The one time he tried to rob someone, it was the Dragonborn? The slayer of Alduin, the hero of Skyrim, the last Dovahkiin. He wasn’t in Skyrim for long, but one had not needed to be in the land of the nords to hear tales and stories about the most powerful man in Tamriel. No wonder his voice felt strong, how did he not see it before?
Ligan licked his dry lips and was about to take a swig of his ale, before stopping and looking down the bottle, making sure that there wasn’t anything inside that was making him hear things. No, he heard right. He tried to steal from the Dragonborn. And the Dragonborn gave him gold in return for some odd reason.
“What have I done?” he said to himself.
“What…..what did you…..what did you do?” Valdr asked between fits of laughter “Got off on the wrong foot?”
Ligan glanced away in shame “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”
“Well, you can always repay or visit him. He doesn’t live that far from here.” the barmaid said, patting the now standing Ligan on the shoulder.
“Not at this time, he’s not.” the imperial woman who owned the bar leaned forward across the counter “It’s getting dark out and there are rumors of something big and dangerous stalking the village at night.”
The tavern’s light mood died down from that, everyone who was cheerful from the knee slapping event of the young elf’s outburst now appearing a little uncomfortable. Ligan looked around and felt nervous again.
It wasn’t just the hunger that made him desperate to steal from someone, it was that he felt like something was in the woods with him. He wasn’t sure what it could have been, but he did come across wolf tracks recently. Big wolf tracks, bigger than his in fact.
“Wasn’t those rumors one of the reasons Asgar came down here in the first place?” the bard inquired.
“It was.” the inkeeper said “He searched the woods last night and today. He told use to stay out of them at night and to not wander off too far during the day.” she then looked over to Ligan “So as for tonight, you are are not going anywhere. Have a night’s rest here and someone can show you the way in the morning.”
Valdr raised his hand for a second “I know the way, I can take him.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ligan said.
“It’s okay. Now, how about I tell you the time I once got chased by a pack of wolves only to run into a giant cave bear?” Valdr got out before the tavern collectively groaned, Ligan looking around as he heard others complain about how he keeps telling this same story over and over again. This earned a laugh from him “Oh, come on! The lad is new, he wouldn’t know!”
Ligan smiled and sat down as the hunter began his tale.
The rest of the night had shared laughs, stories being shared and a little too much wine drank. It wasn’t too rowdy…..until someone thought they were a jester and tried to dance on one of the tables, only to fall off and smash a chair in the process. Though he wasn’t part of it, Ligan ran to the room he rented for the night and stayed there for the rest of his time there.
While he was there, he sat down at the small round table and held the purse in his hands, counting the coins before staring at his reflection on one of them.
‘Think about what you’ve done.’
There was this strong sense of urgency in his mostly calm voice, like he meant that more than anything else he said. More than telling him to ‘step aside’ or when he told him to get a job as a miner in Markarth. He wondered for a moment if the Dragonborn known as Asgar was familiar with situations like what is happening if Ligan, but wouldn’t that mean he knows his story?
His story.
He lost everything on his way to Skyrim, escaping the terror of the Aldmeri and only finding refuge in some bandits who also lost their way. Ligan for a while thought he was going to be part of some thieving family and go on pickpocketing, lock picking, stealing, bribery and robbing spree across Skryim…..if that felt right for him.
Ligan closed his eyes, stuffing the coins back in his purse before he got into bed after stripping off his leather armour. He never wanted to become a thief. He just didn’t know where to turn. Go along with the two random men who happened to cross paths with and end up owing them more than needed, or get arrested by the Thalmor guards chasing after him. He didn’t know what to do at the time, and just went along with them.
He had no one else.
His eyes opened and he looked over to the candle being held by a goat’s horn. What does he want to do with his life? And he spent the rest of the time he was awake to ponder around that.
Ligan woke early the next morning, the sunrise casting an orange light over the village, the fresh air greeting the residence, promising a day of bright skies, calm nature and good fortune. The children of the village eagerly waited at the front doors of their homes, waiting for their parents permission to leave and frolic with their friends. Guards rotated their stations, the ones who patrolled the village at night dragged their tired bodies back to their barracks while the ones scheduled for early morning and late noon took over.
The wood elf stood at table at the local blacksmiths forge next to Valdr, who was showing him map as the said blacksmith sharpened his axe and fitted his armour. Ligan wore simple white cotton shirt while he waited for the blacksmith to be finished.
Ligan watched as Valdr pointed from Falkreath and towards Whiterun, stopping in between an enormous lake.
“He lives around this area. He owns a big house with a stand just outside that sells a variety of things he probably got from his adventures. I can bring you halfway before I would need to head back here.”
Ligan looked up at him “You’re not coming with me all the way?”
Valdr paused and shook his head “I wish I could. But I am needed to make sure the village is safe….and” the man looked away for a moment, fingers tapping on the table before he faced Ligan again with a forced smile “I am still nervous to go back out there. But the area around where Asgar lives is safe from threats.”
Ligan was a little confused at first until he understood what he was saying. After his run in with the spriggans, he was probably nervous of straying far from the village and being surrounded by trees. Ligan nodded "Alright. Thanks for doing this for me though, I really appreciate it."
Valdr smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but the blacksmith spoke first.
"Alright. Here's your amour and and axe." He walked over and handed his equipment to Ligan.
"Thank you." Ligan said, turning to Valdr "I'll get ready and we'll head off, yeah?"
"That's the plan." Valdr said.
Ligan headed back to the Inn and got ready, putting his armour on and keeping his axe by his side, he was about to leave when he noticed a large and reflective platter on one of the tables. He looked around to make sure no one was watching before he moved some good aside and checked his reflection.
Can't just meet the Dragonborn and look dirty, now can he? His short blondish brown hair was tidy, no dirt around his dark brown eyes or anywhere else on his face, and he overall looked presentable. Though he still had that nicked right ear. But surely the Dragonborn of all citizens of Skyrim won't judge his appearance, right?
Thinking he looked good enough, Ligan left the Inn and met up with Valdr at the city's edge, greeting him before they began their journey.
The track there, like the day before, was uneventful. It was calm and quiet, albeit the sings of the morning birds and small forest critters scurrying across the ground and trees. The dark green trees stretched high and wide, acting as walls for the stone path that was dug and impeded into the Earth.
Ligan looked up to his right to the gargantuan mountain that could be seen almost all across Skyrim. The throat of the world stretched high and pierced the clouds, a truly mighty aspect of nature. He heard that the Dragonborn had been at the summit many a time to study the way of the voice with a group of men called The Greybeards. Though the steps would make the hike up there easier, to be constantly up there as a big feat and 7000 steps was still 7000 steps.
Time passed and Ligan used the time to think about what he wanted to say and what he wanted to do. He hoped Asgar would be gracious enough to show him the ways or at least, send him to a place that can show him the ways. He thought about it last night until he fell asleep, what his purpose was, what it could be.
Not a thief.
Not a miner.
But something more.
Something he wanted to be, but never had the chance. Until now.
Eventually, Valdr stopped walking which promoted Ligan to turn to him. Valdr was stiff and looked nervous.
"Okay, that's as far as I'm going. His home is not that far from here. Good luck." Valdr said.
"Thanks for bringing me this far." Ligan nodded his head.
Valdr smiled and gave a wave before he walked back the way they came, leaving Ligan to make the rest of the way there alone. Ligan breathed deeply through nose, exhaled out his mouth and pressed on.
It was close to noon, maybe another hour or so until the sun was directly above him and Ligan felt his feet begin to hurt and his legs grew tired. He should have bought something from the alchemy shop to give him a boost, and the one green bottle he drank earlier lost its effect.
Just when he was about to take a break and let his legs rest before he could go on, he spotted something in the distance. An outline of a house between the shrub caught his eyes and Ligan picked up the pace and turned into a small dirt trail to see…..a hut.
A small single story house with stone walls and a straw roof, a small farm on its right side. No, was this? But it couldn't be.
Surely the Dragonborn wouldn’t live in something so small, would he? This house looked like a home a farmer with a small family would have, not the hero of Skyrim and potentially, all of Tamriel.
Ligan squinted and looked the house up and down before he shrugged. He guessed the Dragonborn was a modest man.
He walked over to the door and raised his fist to knock, pausing to breath in and out again before he lightly hit the wood. But as he did, the door opened lightly.
Ligan blinked to find it wasn't locked, the crack of the door showing some of the interior of the hut. He saw someone else was there, and it wasn't the Dragonborn.
It was a nord woman. She had her back turned to him, stacking some books on a shelf at the far side of the room next to a table. She was wearing dark clothes and her black hair was shoulder length and neatly brushed. The woman turned at the sound of the door being opened slightly and spotted him through the small gap.
“The door is open, you can come right in.” she called out to him.
Ligan mouthed some words in confusion before he stepped in and looked around. The small building held two bookshelves, with one being right next to the door and the one the woman was attending to. There were a few mannequins displaying a different variety of armour and weapons, a few daggers and swords on a table to his right. Ligan was bewildered. This place didn’t look like a home to him.
He turned when the nord woman came over to him. Her skin was light and her eyes were a mix of green and blue, her face incredibly symmetrical.
“What can I get you?” she asked calmly.
Ligan swallowed “Uh….do you have anything to help my legs?” he asked uneasily “It was a long way here.”
The woman nodded “I do. Just come down stairs with me and I can get you something.”
She turned to leave and it took Ligan a second to follow. They went down a staircase that was to the left of the door and Ligan’s confusion grew. There was an alchemy table in one of the corners, a shelf of potions and ingredients and even more armour and weaponry. And it looked a little expensive.
The woman went over to the shelf and picked out a small green bottle in her hand.
“That would be fifteen gold if you have it.” she said.
Ligan nodded and fished the gold out and handed it to her, taking the bottle and downing it right there and then. Relief washed over him and his tired legs felt like they got the well rest they needed for recovery. These potions were very useful, weren’t they?
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
Ligan’s brow shot up when he was reminded of why he was here and stammered “Well, I was actually uh….um..” his words fell over each other and he looked up at the woman, feeling a little caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting this to happen.
“Are you okay?” the nord asked with an arched brow.
“Yes!” he blurted out and he paused “I was wondering if I can speak to….the Dragonborn? Does he live here?”
The woman’s head turned a little “You want to see Asgar? And no, this isn’t his home. This is where we sell whatever we collected on our adventures.”
“We?” Ligan said “Are you married to him?”
The woman’s eyes went big and she quickly shook her head “Oh, no, we are not married. And you want to see him?”
Ligan nodded “Oh, sorry. And yes, I need to see him.”
“Need to?” some concern came over her features “Is there something wrong?”
“Yes-no! Well, sort of.” a few stressed wrinkles formed on his forehead “Look, I just want to apologize for my actions and tell him something important.” he said defeatedly, looking up at the taller woman with shame in his eyes “I just need him to let him know. Can it even be possible to pass my words along from me to you?”
The woman paused before she looked over him quizzically before her eyes fluttered, looking a little surprised like she just realized something. Her brow furrowed before she nodded slowly.
“Oh, you’re the one that tried to steal from him yesterday, are you?” she said “He mentioned you.”
Shame and embarrassment washed over Ligan and he nodded, his face becoming hot. “I am and I am really sorry for what I have done, or tried to do. That’s why I need to talk to him. If that is possible.”
The nord woman sighed and crossed her arms, but she held a smile after a moment “I think he would really appreciate that you are willing to do this. I can take you to him and you can talk. My name is Serana, by the way.”
Ligan smiled and felt himself relax “Thanks. And I’m Ligan.”
Serana smiled and walked past Ligan and led him out of the shop, locking the door behind them before they began to go deeper into the woods.
Ligan followed her and looked around, noticing a trail from the hut to the direction they were going. They passed by a small pond, a mudcrab sitting in the middle poking at a nirnroot that chimed in the low fog. The large crustacean turned to them when they past, Serana ensuring Ligan the crab was friendly. He never saw that before.
"Have you been in Skyrim for long?" Serana broke the silence.
"No, not long." Ligan answered, almost tripping on a stone "Wait, how did you know I was….."
"I met some new arrivals before. There is this certain air to them I recognize." Serana said "Lots of them cross the border around here and come across pinewatch. That's our shop."
Ligan hummed and nodded before noticing something up ahead behind the foliage of a few large trees, and after a few more steps his jaw dropped. Standing in front of him was one of the most impressive houses he had ever seen.
A grand two story house with a horse stable, a small but impressive garden, a tower on one side, large balcony on the other and a farm with a cow, two chickens and a goat. It was bigger than the houses he had seen in Whiterun and Falkreath. The only other buildings he had seen up close were the jarl houses. It was a Manor.
Now this was the Dragonborn's house. He looked over to the horses stable and got whiplash. One of the horses was a big white stallion and the other was…..made of dwarven metal. It wasn’t like it was a horse covered with metal, it was made of metal. Steam puffed out of it at places and it moved without purpose, such as lowering its head to eat straw, but never consuming anything.
How was that even possible?
He looked up at the sound of laughter to see two children playing with a large hound. Both girls were young and around the same age, one a brunette nord with a red dress and the other a young imperial child with blonde hair and a green dress. Does the Dragonborn have-
“Sofie, Lucia!” Serana called out to them “Where’s your father?”
The nord girl stopped, spotting both of them and pointed at the door “He’s in the dweller working. Who’s that with you?”
“Is he a friend?” the other girl asked.
Serana turned to him and shrugged “He may. And thank you Sofie, be sure that you and Lucia don’t stray far from the house.”
“We won’t, mama!” Lucia said before her, Sofie and the hound began to run around the house again.
Ligan tilted his head. Did she call Serana her mother? But she said she wasn’t married to the Dragonborn. He guessed they were together, but not that way, but it was strange cause he heard that couples tend to get married quickly in Skyrim. This must be a rare case of the exception.
He looked back up at her as she held the front door open for both of them and he hurriedly went over and entered the house. The inside was even more impressive than the outside. Chests and weapons hung from the walls, one of them being a single bladed sword that sparked with lightning, another a great sword that glowed red, two cases on either side with a massive ebony war axe and bow of glass. Passing by another doorway was the main hall. A big chandelier hung above a big dining table close to a fireplace, two staircases led up to the balcony and what he assumed were the bedrooms.
One side of the hall had two doors leading to a room with a table and two beds, a small fox sleeping one of them curiously enough and the other side had what might as well be a library.
“You” Ligan said “have a really nice home.”
Serana faced him “It is big, isn’t it? Asgar wanted a home like this for the kids and for any guests who might be staying for whatever reason.”
“Do…you like it?”
Serana looked around and crossed her arms “The library is nice.”. She then walked deeper into the house and entered another doorway and looked back at him “I’ll get Asgar now, just wait here for a second.
Ligan watched as Serana opened a lid to a cellar and climbed down a ladder. He looked around again and took in his surroundings. This home was really impressive. Decorations of a variety of artifacts lined the walls, and it made him wonder how the Dragonborn could even come in possession of any of these. But considering who he is, the question answers itself.
Wait.
He was in the Dragonborn’s home. He was about to speak to him.
Ligan felt anxiety hit him in the gut and he took some calming breaths as he went over his lines. Would he accept them his apology and his request? Serana did say he would appreciate it, but even with that type of reassurance, he couldn’t help but feel nervous for the possibility that Asgar would kick him out and tell him to get lost. But would he even do that? No, of course not.
Feeling sure of himself, he turned to face the area where Serana disappeared to, only to come face to chest with Asgar who was standing right behind of him.
"YAH!"
Ligan jumped back with a yelp, heart racing fast as he made eye contact with the man he was looking for. He was wearing simple clothes like yesterday, but now they were blue and gold in colour. He didn’t even hear him. It was like yesterday when he tried to ambush him. In fact, now that he thinks about it, Serana made no noise when she was leading him here as well.
"You wanted to see me?" Asgar spoke quietly, his expression and voice calm.
Well, at least he didn't seem bothered or annoyed Ligan was in his house and knew where he lived. Good start. Or at least he thought it was.
Ligan looked up at Asgar who was still waiting for a response and the elf made a small noise as he collected himself, caught his breath and stood straight. He then cleared his throat and spoke. "Uh.….hello."
“Hello. I heard your name is Ligan?” Asgar inquired.
Ligan nodded “I am.”
“And you wished to speak?”
“I do.”
Asgar was silent as he looked him up and down, Ligan breaking eye contact for a second when he had no response before the nord turned to the stairs.
“Come with me.” he said as he walked up.
Ligan looked up at him and back down to see Serana learning against the doorway, giving him a ‘good luck’ nod. Ligan gulped and followed Asgar up, the latter opening a door that led to the balcony.
Ligan again felt his breath being taken away. The balcony was big enough to hold well over twenty people, with narrow tables at the walls holding drinks and a big table with a bench on either side. But the real price of having a balcony like this was the view. It overlooked the great lake behind the house and the mountains in the distance, the lush green forest spanning out far and wide. Sun light shined down and sparkled golden streaks across the calm water, a nice breeze flowing around him and Ligan found it easier to breath.
Peeling his eyes away from the view, he saw Asgar sitting down and talking to a redguard woman wearing steel armour, a curved blade by her side and wearing an Alik’rs hood. She looked over at Ligan, and back at Asgar and left with a polite bow. Asgar tuned to Ligan and glanced down at the bench across from him, the latter taking the silent message and sat down.
“Would you like a drink?” Asgar asked.
Ligan shook his head “No, thank you.”
Asgar sat up and crossed his arms over the table, looking Ligan in the eye and felt himself shiver. He had a real battle hardened face, someone who definitely fought and killed multiple dragons, in the Skyrim civil war on the Empire side and stopped another Oblivion crisis from happening. Ligan, someone who was barely involved in any kind of violence, likely looked exceedingly unimpressive to him. He didn’t like being looked at so intensely, so he attempted to break the silence and decided to be blunt.
“I’m sorry.”
Asgar moved his head slightly “For?”
Ligan slumped his shoulders “I’m sorry for trying to steal from you. I’m sorry I threatened to hurt you and tried to attack you. A-and'' he pulled out his bag of coins and placed it on the table between them “I am very grateful for these coins you gave me.”
Asgar looked at the purse and back at Ligan as he continued “What I did was wrong and I promise to never do anything like that again. Swear on my life.”
Ligan watched as the Dragonborn leaned back, appearing he was both contemplating his words and Ligan himself. He hoped his words reached him, because if they didn’t, whatever he will say next will fall on deaf ears.
A shadow passed over them, and both men looked up at a hawk flying overhead before decending down to the roof of the house where it built a nest. Logan looked back at Asgar when he finally spoke.
“You never wanted to become a thief in the first place. And it was clear to me you hated being one.” he raised his right arm and his palm glowed orange and red, and to Ligan’s amazement, a bottle of ale floated over to one of the tables and into Asgars’ hand “So tell me, how and why have you taken this path?”
Ligan paused and stared at the Dragonborn as he opened the bottle ale and drank from it, putting back down on the table. Ligan at the moment couldn't remember if he anticipated a explanation was going to be given by the warrior's request, but he began his tale regardless. It found it remarkably easy to.
"My family grew up in a small farm in Cyrodil and lost so much during the Great War. Relatives were killed and half our crop land was ruined. It was difficult for them and eventually for us when I was born." Ligan began, staring off past Asgar and into the nature of Skyrim, seeing his parents and their run down farm "They always resented the Thalmor, and after one drunken night, my father got too vocal. A small group hunted my family down and parents were captured and imprisoned. I escaped and….and…."
Ligan stopped as he felt his foggy eyes water, but he simply wiped when with his forearm and continued "I managed to escape and wandered aimlessly. I left Cyrodiil eventually and came to Skyrim. And I did the same thing my father did."
"You got drunk and spoke out against the Thalmor?" Asgar guessed.
Ligan held an ironic smile "No, I got drunk and threw a rock at a group walking passed and told them to go to Oblivion."
"Oh." Asgar said before he chuffed.
The elf nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek "They went after me. I ran. Came across thieves who said they could help me as long as I joined them. Or they would rat me out." a mix of sorrow and anger plastered itself on his face "I promised my parents that I wouldn't get caught by those bastards. But I also knew being a criminal was so wrong. But what choice did I have?"
Silence fell upon them and Ligan felt his eyes water up again, shame licking at him as his chest twisted painfully. It was never easy talking about his family. He didn't even want to think what they were going through and could only hope that they were safe. Asgar sat there and seemed to regard him, his eyes drifting away as a breeze came by and his hair flowing through it.
He took another swig of his ale and sighed. "And now you're here. I appreciate your apology and I accept it, but I sense there is more you wish to tell me. What is it that you want?"
Ligan gulped. This was it.
"I want to do right. I don't want to hurt or steal from people anymore. I want to help them." He confessed "Like how you help others. I want to be…" he paused as he tried to form the right words and looked at his hands "a savior. A hero." He clenched his fists and looked back at Asgar.
"Is there any way you can help? Is there advice you could give me? But you don't have to teach me, you could also point me to some place where I can learn. I know I may not deserve it given what I have done, but-"
Ligan halted his words when Asgar closed his eyes and stood up from the table and walked over to the balcony railing, back turned to his visitor. The younger man waited for a response, anticipation making his heart beat fast and stomach tight. Asgar then bent down and gripped the railing tightly, his head bowed. Ligan was confused at this and began to fear if he said something wrong, but before he could utter an apology and accused himself of the residence, Asgar's powerful voice resonated.
"So you have made some wrong choices and regrettable decisions. And the guilt you feel is so strong that you don't believe you deserve a second chance." Asgar spoke, "But tell me. If you were given one: what would you do with it?"
Ligan remained silent. That was a question, no doubt, but he felt he was not supposed to answer yet. Asgar spoke again, staring off into the distance and though he could not see his face, Ligan would bet he held a face all too familiar with him.
“I have made wrong decisions.” his voice grew heavy and he gripped the railing harder “I have done….horrible things that I still regret. I didn’t think I deserved a second chance at life. A second chance was too good for me.” his head turned, his right blue eye looking back at Ligan “But when the opportunity arrived, I took it with stride. I slayed Alduin, killed Harkon, stopped Miraak, ended a civil war and prevented another daedric disaster. Every choice I made was for the sake and protection of others, becoming the hero that the people Tamriel deserve!”
His voice grew as he turned to Ligan fully, the wind around them picking up while his black hair flared. “ My second chance has gifted me with my purpose; To ensure others can have theirs. To live on and prosper. To ensure that the world is safe even when I’m gone!”
Ligan stared up at Asgar with mouth agape, the wind dying down around them, his long black hair falling over his shoulders. A part of Ligan was utterly taken aback at this speech that seemed very rehearsed, but he couldn’t help but feel motivated by it. This was not how he thought this would go.
Asgar closed his eyes and balled up a fist into the centre of his chest before he peered at the young man again.
“This is your second chance. What will you do now?”
Ligan felt something in him rage like wildfire, a sense of purpose blooming in his chest and he looked the Dragonborn in the eyes with determination “I stand by what I said.”
Asgar paused, smiled and turned around to the lake again “Your training starts in two days.”
Ligan felt relief wash over him and the heavy weight on his shoulders lifted off instantly, his eyes again welling up, but for a different reason now. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his arm and took some breaths “Thank you….thank you. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
The sun was now set in the land of Skyrim, the stars glittered the night sky and the wilderness was quiet and calm. Asgar stood and looked over the balcony, listening closely. Quiet. Very quiet. His icy blue eyes narrowed.
“LAAS YAH NIR.”
His voice was almost a whisper, but a dark wave swept across the land and red auras of life was seen. Birds, small rodents and the occasional deer was all he was seeing. Nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing like a large beast from what he can see. He sent a letter to the companions early today and suspected they would be at his home the next day in the afternoon, where he can get equipped and start a more thorough investigation.
He pushed air between his teeth and took a big gulp of Argonian bloodwine and turned when the door behind him opened. Serana stepped out and frowned to see the bottle in his hands.
“Is everything okay?” she walked over.
“Everything is fine.” Asgar responded, looking back over the wilderness and using the words of the aura whisper again.
Serana's frown only deepened. “Don’t be like that. You only drink that when you’re upset.”
Asgar dropped his head and sighed heavily “I’m not upset. Ligan’s story just….reminded me of my own past. And he said some things that I relate too deeply.”
Serana reached the rails and stood next to him, reaching down to slowly pull the bloodwine away from his loose grip. “I know it's hard for you, but drinking your sorrows away isn’t going to help.”
“I know I’m…” a look of shame crossed his face “I’m sorry.”
Serana frowned again and wrapped an arm around his and leaned against his shoulder, also listening in closely. Her senses might not be as keen now that she cured herself of vampirism, but years of experience and adventuring with the man beside her has helped her adapt.
“I…want to know something.” she said.
“Hm?”
“Why did you decide to train him?" She turned to face him "I have nothing against you setting someone on the right path, but why are you personally doing it? Would it be easier if the companions or some guards in Solitude could train him?”
Asgar didn’t answer straight away, his head bowed before he looked to the sky “He’s like me in a way. I know how to handle him when things go south and he seemed interested in me showing him the way.”
Serana listened to his words odr a long, quiet moment. She then shrugged and walked back towards the door, “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”
After a pause, Asgar nodded and followed her into the house with heavy steps.
“That was a great speech you gave.” she then commented and Asgar laughed.
“You heard that? Being part of the bard's college paid off in the end, didn’t it?”