Curiosity
Skyrim
Dragonborn/Rumarin
In Progress
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Curiosity killed the cat, they say
It had been many months—years, technically, but two years hardly felt like a long time, while saying 'dozens of months' did—since Rumarin had met Reia. In their many months together, Rumarin had grown quite used to being around the strange little elf. She packed quite a bit of surprise into her tiny body, something that had caught Rumarin off-guard in the beginning, but he had learned to enjoy how the smug 'bodyguards' would turn into befuddled onlookers when she summoned an Atronach or a daedric lord to do her bidding. Even better were the looks on the faces of the would-be bandits right before they met a messy end. This woman had quite a few secrets hidden within her, and it was always interesting to see what she would do next.
He never actually asked her much, though. Rumarin was content to wait and see what surprises lay at the end of the next adventure. He had no doubts in his mind that Reia would show off her abilities when it suited her, and he was patient enough to stick around until that happened. Her penchant for defying the expected almost interested him enough to make him follow her without pay, even.
Almost.
But through their months of travels, as they meandered this way and that across Skyrim, one particular question kept popping up at times and picking at Rumarin's mind.
One life of nine, taken away
Most of the time, Rumarian was the type to ask whatever question he wanted to. Anybody who turned his questions back on him would get a witty reply instead. Being talented at coming up with comebacks was a very useful skill. But in this case, for this question, he hadn't quite come up with a good response, should the question be turned back on him. It was something he had never really thought about, not until he had met Reia, so he needed a bit of time to think of what to say, should Reia ask him why he was asking about it. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have cared if his response to their probing was less-than-graceful, but with her he felt like he had to make an effort to sound like the snarky companion she had been traveling with for some time now. And as he pondered over the question himself, he came to a few conclusions.
As far as he could tell, he would probably never get an answer from Reia herself without asking, because nobody else knew her well enough to notice this particular oddity of hers. Others had traveled with them, sure, and the mages at the college certainly got along with her, but Rumarin had traveled with her for dozens of months (that still sounded more impressive than 'a handful of years', to his mind), and thus he had learned a lot about her. Which was why this particular question bothered his thoughts so frequently, he supposed. With how often Reia gave up interesting tidbits about herself—through action rather than speech, to be fair, but it was relatively easy to pick up on some of her hidden depths, what with how much she seemed to enjoy upturning expectations—he would have thought this particular question would have come up at some point before. It's not as though every person is the dragonborn, after all.
It was a bit hypocritical, he supposed, to want real answers while keeping certain parts of himself so guarded. Maybe she didn't want anybody to know the specifics about her identity as the dragonborn. Rumarin himself certainly knew very little; he had stayed outside the main door whenever Reia had gone to speak to the greybeards, only to hear little snippets about their meetings after the fact. A large part of Reia's growth as a dragonborn was a mystery to him, because of that.
He had seen her absorb the souls after slaying a dragon. He had seen her use the Shouts. He had helped her find more than a handful of the walls, and had seen her absorb the words themselves. He did not know much about being a dragonborn, but he saw the effects of it, and he knew how powerful it could be. Reia's magic had always been impressive, but her Shouts were even moreso.
Then again, Reia wasn't really a fighter. She could defend herself, and anyone who messed with her would quickly find their end, but it wasn't like she went out looking for a fight. Trouble, yes, but not specifically the kind of trouble that ended with dead bodies. Her Shouts had become something of a tool to boost herself, rather than for fighting others. More than once he had seen her go flying across a massive gap to pull a lever, for example, but knocking people over with her voice was less common. With great power comes great responsibility, he supposed, and Reia wasn't really the type to wield power without careful thought.
But that line of thinking was not enough to satisfy Rumarin's curiosity. But instead of just blurting it out randomly, he decided to wait a bit, until the right moment came up. It would be easier to play it off as a passing curiosity, rather than something he had thought about for a while, if something related to Reia being a dragonborn happened to come up first.
spent on the ground beneath tall trees,
In the end, it was an assassin's attack that provided the perfect lead-in to his question.
Assassins were not that unusual. Rumarin wasn't sure who Reia had pissed off so badly that they sent an assassin after her on a semi-regular basis, but it had to be someone of power. Who else could afford to send so many skilled fighters after her? It wasn't as if they were the usual bandits or anything, either. No, these men and women were actually dangerous, and more than once their fights with them had come down to survival by a lucky hit or by a chance encounter with another, outside force. Those fights always left either Rumarin or Reia injured in some capacity, too. Rumarin was just grateful that assassins only came after Reia once a month or so (and he was sure they were after her, too. Rumarin was a lot of things, but Reia was the dragonborn, for crying out loud. Of course she was a bigger target than him) , so they had time to heal in-between each encounter.
But this time, the fight had come down to the wire, and Reia had Shouted him into Oblivion. Even though Rumarin had not been in the path of the Shout, he could still feel the force of it, and he watched the assassin go flying down the path and tumbling down the rocky cliffs outside Winterhold as the mystic winds died down and the suddenly upturned flurries of snow settled down. The assassins were growing more daring, if they were to attack Reia while she was so close to a college full of friends ready to defend her.
At that moment, Rumarin could see the true strength within Reia. She seemed meek, unable to defend herself, but in truth she was more than capable.
So, why?
in the streets, under the eaves,
There were certain truths that an elf in Skyrim had to live with. Skyrim was the land of the Nords, and the Nords were a people who loved their traditions and loved stamping out dissent even more. The entire war of Skyrim was based around one simple idea: was it better to bow to the ideals of others for peace and stability, or to keep tradition and go it alone?
For all of the Stormcloak's bragging and tales of bravery and birthright, ultimately the whole rebellion was just a result of a few Nords being unable to see past their own noses. Yes, religious right was important to them, but they seemed to be forgetting that the legend of Talos was seen as an affront to religion in some places, as claiming that a mortal could become a god was tantamount to blasphemy. That was why the treaty had included the provision to bad worship of Talos: if Skyrim was to be a part of the alliance, then they had to make some concessions for the sake of avoiding more wars in the future. Banning the worship of Talos didn't mean that they couldn't worship him at all, either. In practice, it was very difficult to stop people from praying to whoever or whatever in the privacy of their own homes. This had just meant that it was illegal to proselytize in public spaces, which was what the Thalmor had been trying to avoid in the first place. If Nords weren't yelling in public about how great Talos was and how people should worship him, then religious non-Nords wouldn't get offended by what was essentially blasphemy to them. Rumarin himself wasn't religious, but even he could see this as plain as day.
But this whole question of religion and alliances had turned many Nords against outsiders, which included Rumarin and Reia. Two elves, traveling a country thrown into war because of a treaty with elves? To say their travels were difficult would have been a generous description. Some cities welcomed them with open arms; others watched them suspiciously, and rude comments were often the 'best' of what they would find there. Gods help them if they had to go to Windhelm for any reason, they would be lucky to not be thrown to the docks with the Argonians. On second thought, he supposed Reia would have felt at home with them anyway.
It didn't have to be that way, though. Reia was dragonborn. Dragonborn were practically worshipped in this country, just like Talos was. While people normally didn't know that Reia was the dragonborn, there were still times when hold guards helped them fight a dragon, and when they saw Reia absorb the soul once the beast was slain. Rumarin had seen the shift in their demeanor, when Reia had gone from 'just another elf' to 'the dragonborn.' This journey was tough at times, but it really didn't have to be.
The cat is curious, but also weak
"Far be it from me to question your methods when they have been successful so far," Rumarin said as he watched the lifeless body of the assassin roll down the hill, carefully constructing his question to seem like a passing curiosity and nothing more, "But I have to ask: wouldn't your Shouts make your travels much easier?"
Even though they had been together for years, Rumarin still talked about Reia's quests as 'her travels' as if he weren't involved. 'our travels' just sounded too familiar too him, and while something about the words made him feel a bit warm on the inside, he still hadn't reached the point where he could talk about that subject even in jest.
"What do you mean," Reia asked of him, and though he was not looking at her, he could hear the confusion in her voice.
"I don't know if you have heard," Rumarin started, unable to stop himself from inserting at least a little bit of sarcasm into his explanation, "But there is a war going on in Skyrim. And there are bandits, and assassins, and don't forget the thief problem in Riften, or the vampire problem pretty much everywhere. It's hard to take even one step without coming across a fool asking for a beating."
Finally he looked back to her, watching her face for some kind of reaction. He had been with her for many months now, so he could often see her answer before he heard it. "You could solve so many of these problems with just a few words. The Nords would listen to a dragonborn, even an elven one. So why don't you ever try to solve these problems at their source?"
death and danger haunt every peek
Rumarin wasn't sure what he had been expecting. For all he knew about Reia, she still held a lot of mysteries. But whatever he had thought would happen, what he got was completely unthinkable to him.
Reia just smiled at him in return. It wasn't quite a happy smile, though. It reminded Rumarin of the smiles his mother had given him long ago, when he would ask for a sweet roll but his mother had to think of a creative way to say 'no' without revealing that they did not have the money to buy one. It instantly made Rumarin feel childish, and he regretted asking in the first place.
But still, Reia answered him. "Skyrim's problems are for those of Skyrim to solve."
In that moment, Rumarin finally understood. If Reia tried to solve all of Skyrim's problems, they could end up resenting her just as much as they did the Thalmor. Even with power, who was to say that she would make the right choice? Only the Nords could decide what was right for the Nords, and an elf had no place making that choice.
Satisfied, Rumarin said, "Well they certainly don't seem to be good at solving their own problems."
Reia's chuckle in response was all he needed to hear.
It was curiosity that killed the cat,
But satisfaction brought it back.
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