Dar'Elaraya headed out, westward. She had decided to head to Whiterun and explore Skyrim's city of central trade. One of the closest settlements was Iverstead, the village at the foot of the Throat of the World. That would be her destination. Or, at least it would have, if she knew how to navigate correctly. She missed the village entirely.

It wasn't so easy when she had rockjoint. Nonetheless, she made her way past Iverstead. She went toe-to-toe with a crazy Argonian mage or necromancer, and after that the journey was peaceful. Only a wolf and skeever were obstacles, minor ones at that, and before long she realized she wasn't heading to Iverstead.

Eventually, as she rounded the Throat of the World, she passed a bandit outpost. The one on watch attacked, and Dar'Elaraya burned her to death quickly, grabbing the coin pouch, and moved on before any more of them could get out of the outpost and attack.

Around the northface of the mountain, the Khajiit crested a hill, giving her the first glimpse of Whiterun's Jarl's home. "Is that Dragonsreach? It's very huge," she commented to herself. When she got to the other side of the hill, she saw the rest of Whiterun. And also some wolves.

Continuing on after killing and skinning the wolves, she saw a dead man next to a horse. No one was around, so Dar'Elaraya got on and decided to ride it the rest of the way to the melting pot of Skyrim.

She passed what a sign called the Honningbrew Meadery, while also being attacked by a wolf again, where she got off the horse and killed it. The horse turned around and headed back to where it's dead owner lay, surely, and that was fine. Dar'Elaraya couldn't care for a horse at this point, anway.

"The meadery," the Khajiit said, thinking aloud. "Surely it would have ale? Then all I would need is moon sugar for a good taste of home. Elsweyr fondue was always my favorite." She walked into the meadery.

"Welcome. I'm the owner and proprietor of Honningbrew Meadery," the bartender said. His face was chiseled like a Nord's, but his voice sounded like an Imperial's.

"Would you have any regular ale, good sir?" Dar'Elaraya asked.

"Afraid not. Would you like some Honningbrew mead instead?"

The Khajiit shook her head. "This one wishes to make a dish, but ale is needed. I'm sure your mead is nice, anyway." She turned to leave. Once outside, she started heading toward Whiterun again.

     She also heard the sounds of a giant pounding something. She picked up her pace, drawing her bow with one hand while grabbing an arrow with the other. Now in view, people could be seen, fighting it. With the giant in view, it was also in shooting range. Dar'Elaraya drew back the bowstring with a nocked arrow, and let it fly. It headed straight for the giant, and it went right over its shoulder. With a few more swings from the fighters, it went down. The Khajiit walked over to them, and took note they were all Nords, one man, two women.

     One of the women walked over to the Khajiit. "Well, now that's taken care of. No thanks to you."

     "This one tried her best—"

     "Ha! Another milk drinker, crying about her efforts. Glory only awaits those who triumph." Her words, after the insult, were of awe and of determination. When Dar'Elaraya looked at the Nord woman's companions, she noticed the same determination in both of their eyes. "And as Companions, our glory must always be hard-fought."

    The fighting guild the woman spoke of was foreign to the Khajiit. She knew there were Fighters Guilds in just about every province of Tamriel, but she had never heard of the Companions. "Who are the Companions?"

    "Never heard of the Companions? An outsider, eh? We," she indicated the other Companions, "are an order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough."

    "Who is this one and her companions?" The Nord woman introduced herself as Aela, the other woman was Ria, and the Nord man was Farkas. Dar'Elaraya introduced herself last. "Huntress, how might this one join the Companions of Whiterun?"

    "You'll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane up in Jorrvaskr," Aela said. "The man's got a good sense for people. He can look into your eyes and tell your worth. If you go to him, good luck."

    Farkas and Ria both wished Dar'Elaraya luck as well, hoping she became a Shield-Sister of theirs soon. Looks into my eyes and sees my worth. Will he be able to tell that I am a thief?

     After deciding to hold off on the invitation to meet with the Whitemane, she kept on the road toward Whiterun's front gate. A guard came up to her, his face unreadable under his helm. Dar'Elaraya flattened her ears and prepared to flee.

     "Halt! The city's closed with dragons about." As if walls will keep out that dark shadow. "Offical business only," the guard said.

     "This one has news from Helgen about the dragon attack," Dar'Elaraya said, in an attempt to persuade the guard. It worked.

     "Fine," the guard growled. "But we're keeping an eye on you."

     "Thank you," the Khajiit said, and meant it. She, looking up at the fiery sky and its setting sun, walked up to the gates of Whiterun, and entered the central city of Skyrim.

Upon entry, Dar'Elaraya noticed an Imperial-supporting Nord bartering with a Redguard blacksmith. He said something about a large order for the Imperial army and the Khajiit turned her ears elsewhere. She walked past them both and looked at the blacksmith equipment. There was everything; an anvil, forge, belows, grindstone, armorer's table, and a tanning rack. Thinking of all the wolves she had skinned, she decided to add to her small amount of leather. Quickly, she counted the furs. There were twenty wolf pelts alone, not to mention the three fox pelts she had gained. As if I would use fox pelts for leather! she thought.

Dar'Elaraya made five of the pelts into leather. As she stood from the tanning rack, she brushed off the wolf fur. If there is good haggling to be made, I can possibly get six septims per pelt. Maybe I can ask the blacksmith is she knows of a good dealer in this Hold's capital? Dar'Elaraya sought out the Redguard. The most recent of scents led into her shop, Warmaiden's, so she went to open the door, butt it was locked. She cursed herself for losing track of time, and walked farther into Whiterun. One of the passing houses had a sign, The Drunken Huntsman. To her, it sounded like an inn, so she entered. The Khajiit was surprised to find a male Bosmer behind one of the counters, and a Dunmer woman in leathers at a table. No one else was inside.

"Ah, hello, my Khajiit friend. In the market for some hunting supplies?" the Bosmer greeted, waving a hand at the bow he had on the counter, along with a pair of leather boots on a small stair-like shelf.

I might as well see what he has to offer me. "This one would take pleasure to browse your wares. May she?"

"Of course, Khajiit. Anything in particular?"

"Does this one have steel arrows, by chance? Or maybe other good weaponry?"

The Bosmer brought out some steel arrows, and a steel dagger to match. "The arrows are six coins each, with one hundred, forty-five arrows. The dagger is fifty-five septims. I see you have a bow and a sword, so I will not offer you those, unless asked. I have two enchanted bows, as well."

    "This one will take all of the arrows. She has a good dagger. How much will that cost?"

    With a quick calcculation, the Bosmer answered her: "The better part of eight hundred septims. Do you have that much coin?"

    Dar'Elaraya did an even quicker estimation. She figured she had a bit more than one thousand septims. "How much for two hundred coins?"

    "Thirty-three, and that would cost two less than you ask."

    Inwardly growling, Dar'Elaraya handed over the coins. At least this Bosmer was fair. He could have easily swindled me out off two coins, or possibly more. "This one thanks you."

    "The pleasure is mine."

    Turning to leave, the Khajiit had her hand on the door before she thought to ask another question. She turned to face the Bosmer. "Who would one look to for work around here?"

    "Hulda, the innkeeper at the Bannered Mare. It's down the road, the building straight ahead. You might also want to check in at Dragonsreach. The Jarl and his steward might have work for you. Precious few others would trust a Khajiit with much more than mercenary work." With a sigh-turned-growl, Dar'Elaraya agreed and then left the shop to find the inn.

When she entered the Bannered Mare, a Nord woman called to her from behind the bar. "Come on in." Her voice was kind. "Let me know if you need anything, take a seat by the fire and I'll send someone over." The woman went back to conversing and serving patrons at the bar.

As she sat down, Dar'Elaraya was pleased that the woman—she assumed the woman was Hulda—decided to treat the Khajiit like a normal customer, no racism or unjust hate. Then again, I am a thief. But the hospitality is nice.

As she warmed herself by the fire, she listened to the bard sing Ragnar the Red. Then one of the bar-hands, a Redguard who introduced herself as Saadia, came over to her. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, her voice calm and smooth.

"Would this one have ale?" When Saadia nodded, the Khajiit continued on. "I will take three bottles." Dar'Elaraya handed over the forty-five septims as she received the ale, placing it in her knapsack.

"Would you care for anything else? Alcohol, various sweets, food or normal drink?"

"I'll take a pie, yes? This one thanks you, and would also like a room for the night."

"Of course. Twenty septims, with the apple pie."

✦ ✦ ❦ ✦ ✦

In the morning, Dar'Elaraya wandered about the city. She made her way into a part of town called the Cloud District, where apparently Dragonsreach claimed most of it. Another building of interest there was Kynareth's temple. Once she located the temple, Dar'Elaraya entered it.

The interior almost made her feel at home. Vines hung off the Nord architecheture, painting designs on the walls the colors of Khenarthi, healing or relaxing herbs planted around the spacious room. There was even a shrine, depicting the bird-like aspect of the Aedra. Two candles burned on either side, on silver candlesticks. Asking for Khenarthi's blessing, Dar'Elaraya kneeled down, head bowed, and prayed for healing. Her roockjoint slowly seemed to ease. "Thank you, mother of wind." With her goal done, she left the temple and made her way to Warmaiden's once more.