The Elder Scrolls: Housecarl - Chapter 5: Giant Problems

A week. It didn't seem that long, but every day that went by was a day that Reydi spent wasting away in Whiterun's dungeons. Every day Lydia felt like she had failed her sister. Every night she went to sleep on her comfortable bed in the Bannered Mare, she thought of Reydi laying on the straw strewn over the floor. How could she have let this happen?

Lydia only had one comforting thought, one goal to strive for in the long-term. She had to get Reydi out, but force was not an option. She'd seen how vigilant Balgruuf's guardsmen were. No, Lydia was smarter than that. And besides, if Reydi was found to have broken out, she would be an escaped convict for life, and Lydia was sure her sister would not desire that way of life. Frankly, Lydia wouldn't either. The only way Lydia could get the Jarl to let Reydi out was to get him to trust her; and the only way to do that was to serve him.

The dream they'd shared about joining the Imperial Legion seemed like a far off hope now, left long ago along their path. That path that lay behind her was so obscured with mist that Lydia rarely even considered it. Now, her gazed was fixed solely on the goal of bringing Reydi out of her cell.

When she requested to join Jarl Balgruuf's guard, Lydia was sure that his Dark Elf housecarl, Irileth, was going to object. Lydia was unfortunate enough to have earned the housecarl's loathing within minutes of meeting her. This made life very difficult. Irileth was the overseer of the Whiterun guard. With already rigorous training, Irileth's distaste for Lydia lead her to make her work harder than the other trainees. Even worse, Lydia was sure Irileth was suspicious of her motives. This meant thatLydia went to bed every night for the past week aching and sleeping fitfully. 

*     *     *

Lydia ducked the sloppy side cut from the trainee who was facing her, her brow knit in concentration. Her endurance had always been a strong suit of hers, and today she was succeeding in wearing her opponent down. She had grown into one of the better sword fighters among the trainees. A large portion of the group was made up of volunteers from the city of Whiterun and it's surrounding villages and towns, but there were several who were accepting it as a paid position. There were also a few older warriors who had been mercenaries or bounty hunters previously, and now looked for more stable income. 

In the yard behind Dragonsreach, the air was filled with the  their wooden blades met with a resounding clack as she deflected a blow aimed at her knees; a blow she knew would take her out of her adventuring days for good if it had connected in a real fight.

She attempted a strike to his left side, which she knew would never connect. She used this attack often in fights. This forced her opponent's hand, giving their blade the tendency to drift to the left in anticipation of the blow. This allowed Lydia to quite effectively faint to the other side, most often. Sure enough, the man's blade slowly became trained to his left side to deflect her blow. Now was the time. She feigned another strike aimed at his left side, but quickly reversed the direction of her wooden weapon, landing a light blow to his exposed right side as he moved to block the left side blow that would never come. Surprised, the man instinctively stepped to the left and brought his own training sword to the right, just in time to step into the blow Lydia had aimed at his neck. Lydia halted the force of the blow just inches before it connected, resulting in only a light tap. 

The man stopped, feeling the pressure on his neck, and grimaced, realizing he had been bested. She grinned at him and, to Lydia's surprise, he returned the gesture.

"Good maneuver, that," he said grudgingly. Lydia caught Irileth, who had been overseeing the day's session, eyeing her with a mildly impressed look. The look quickly turned into a scowl when Irileth saw that Lydia had noticed.

*     *     *

It had been several weeks, and the training had not gotten any less rigorous. The aspiring guardsmen found themselves becoming very adept at sleeping in unconventional positions and times. Most trainees became used to catching naps in-between lunch breaks while sitting at the table. Not only were they force through grueling combat drills, but their physical limits were pushed in other ways. Lydia couldn't count how many times she'd run around the plains surrounding the city at the crack of dawn. The more she did so, the less beautiful the plains seemed. Upon her arrival Lydia recalled the breathtaking site of the rolling hills. Now she had grown to despise the dull and monotone grass hills that swept like a blanket around Whiterun.  

One bright and early morning, Lydia was woken by another trainee, who still seemed groggy from his rest. She recognized him as the man who had complimented her on her sword fighting technique.

"Quickly. The Housecarl has asked us and a couple of the other trainees to meet her outside the gate." Lydia grunted, still half asleep, but pulled on her armor and quickly equipped herself with her bow, sword and a quiver of arrows. She had left the barracks and stood ready outside the gat in ten minutes time.

"About time you all got here," Irileth glowered at them as the group she had requested finally assembled at the gate, grumbling to one another about the time. "We have a problem. As many of you already know, a Giant camp sits just outside the city, and they've left us alone for as long as anyone can remember. Now, they're attacking local farms. The Companions just took one down only days ago. Word is some damned fool went and shot one of their mammoths." Irileth shook her head at the mammoth hunter's apparent idiocy.

"The guard as instructed by the Jarl to sort out this giant problem. I've also decided to bring a few of our trainees along to give them some much needed experience," Irileth went on. Lydia wondered if the pun was intended. If it was, Irileth made no sign to acknowledge it. The corners of Lydia's lips fought to upturn briefly. She forced the smile down, but too late.

"Trainee!" Irileth barked at her. "What, pray tell, amuses you about this situation?" Lydia straightened.

"Nothing, Housecarl," she replied, having mastered herself. If looks could kill, Lydia would have been stone dead from the one Irileth threw her now. Irileth's red eyes had the quality of being more penetrating than any other gaze Lydia had met. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. It was all she could do not to shrink away from her withering glare. She had the uncomfortable sense that the Housecarl could read her every thought, wish and motive. Finally, after what felt like years, Irileth returned her gaze to the rest of their small group.

"We move out now," she commanded simply, turning and leading them through the gate. The massive wooden barrier was opened by the gate guard, revealing the walled in dirt path that would lead down beyond the drawbridge and to the sprawling fields below. The group trooped out behind the Housecarl, none daring to say a word to the other. It was a small group, only two trainees, Lydia herself and the man who had woken her, and three guards, as well as the Housecarl herself. Lydia, not wishing to overstep her bounds with the other guardsmen, drifted to the back of the small procession. The other trainee lingered there as well. With his helmet in his arms, the man looked over at her. His face was pale and broad with a mess of shaggy blond hair atop his head, and a full beard of the same color. He had a prominent nose and hard brown eyes that shone with a tinge of nervousness. They flicked to the front of the line at the Housecarl's back, apparently checking to see if she was listening. After a few moments' quiet, the man dared to mutter something to her. 

"Don't mention it to the Housecarl, but I can't help but be a bit nervous," he said with a thick nordic accent. "About the Giants I mean." He did look a bit jittery. His well muscled arms were drawn tighter than a bow string, and the hand that wasn't holding his helmet played at his sword hilt as they jogged. Lydia kept her face calm. In truth, she was probably as nervous as he was, if not more, but she managed a casual shrug and an impassive expression.

"I suppose the Housecarl thinks we're ready enough. We must be doing well, to get an assignment like this," Lydia replied. Even she had to notice the strained quality and forced tone of her voice.

"You think this is some kind of test?" he looked at her quizzically. Lydia shrugged indecisively.

"Whether it's a test or not, if we don't pass, we won't move on. We'll be dead," Lydia said with a wry smile. The man blanched at the thought, draining the little color that was left from his face. They walked on in silence until Lydia realized she didn't even know his name. 

"I'm Lydia, by the way," she said. The man smiled.

"Botlaf," he replied, momentarily taking his hand away from his sword hilt to proffer it to Lydia. She took it, smiling. Her nerves at the coming battle probably made her smile look as strained as his did. 

They didn't speak for the rest of the short journey. They were both deep in their thoughts, preparing themselves as they could. It struck Lydia that if she died on this mission, Reydi would be stuck in prison forever, with nobody to vouch for her innocence. Lydia clenched her fists at the injustice of it, promising herself her own survival, at least for Reydi's sake.

It seemed like no time at all had passed when Lydia could smell the smoke of the camp's massive fire tainting the air, and saw it's great glow just over the sloping crest of the hill ahead. Her stomach did a somersault, and her nerves started tingling. Her hand went instinctively to the hilt of her sword, resting lightly on the smooth pommel. Irileth suddenly stopped ahead of them, raising a hand indicating that the rest should follow suit. They all froze. Nobody moved for some time, until Irileth slowly turned to them.

"I can see the Giants from here. They're in the camp, and they don't see us. At least, not yet. Hroki, Botlaf, you two go around the sides of the camp behind that tree with your swords ready. Just don't be seen, and don't attack unless you need to. The grass should be enough to give you cover while you move. Lydia, Tor, you two stay here and rain down arrows on them." They nodded and began to take their positions. 

With an arrow knocked and a gentle pressure on her bowstring, Lydia crouched just under the crest of the hill and watched Botlaf and Hroki move into position. She took the time to survey the camp. It was set in a small valley created by the hills, and was overlooked by a massive bolder that jutted out from the largest of the surround hills. At its center was a roaring blaze larger then some cabins Lydia had seen. Several mammoths were scattered about the surround hills, and three Giants sat on massive logs that were really more like full tree trunks around the fire.

The mammoths were beasts of incredible proportions. The were easily the size of a two-story home, and they had a thick mat of shaggy brown fur that hung loosely over their massive bodies. Set deep into their head above their thick trunk were small, beady, mean eyes that seemed to blaze with ferocity. Flanking the tree-sized trunk were for immensely long and pointed horns, two on either side. The sloped downward from their face, forming a bent, inward curve that ended in an ivory tip that looked sharper than a spear. As they grazed, the mammoths plodded along with their thick hairless legs. Lydia swore she could feel the ground shake beneath her feet, but perhaps that we simply her own body shaking with suppressed fear and anxiety. 

The Giants themselves a somewhat less impressive sight, though no less immense. Their height almost exceeded that of the mammoths they herded. Their skin was a pale, greyish white covered in tattoo-like scars that ran all across their body. They were clothed in rough furs, decorated with massive bones. They had disproportionally sized feet and hands, and each Giant carried a massive club that seemed to have been carved out of an entire tree. Their squashed and bearded faces were framed by lanky grey hair and topped with bushy eyebrows that nearly obscured the minuscule ice-blue eyes. 

Once Hroki and Botlaf had reached the wide trunk of the pine that Irileth had pointed pit, they all waited in silence, each with bated breath. Then, Irileth charged the Giants without warning. 

They jerked their bows up into position in surprise as Irileth darted towards the massive figures, her sword biting at their legs before they realized she was even their. She sank the full length of the blade into the calf of one of the giants, then quickly darted away as he bellowed in rage. His club struck the air where she had been far too late as he rose from his seat on the log. Irileth had already moved on to the other Giant. Before he could get a swing at her, Lydia's arrow found it's mark on his neck. The Giant stepped back, dazed with pain, but did not go down. The arrow had not penetrated far past his thick skin.

"Kynareth save us. Will nothing kill these Giants?" she heard Tor exclaim next to her as his arrow struck the stomach of the third Giant, barely managing to lodge itself into his body. Lydia felt the seed of worry growing inside her as the club struck close to Irileth. They kept the volley of arrows streaming towards the Giants. Lydia and Tor concentrated fire on one, communicating more through thought and feeling than words, and the Giant went down. Irileth darted towards him and sunk her blade into his neck, killing him instantly. She didn't see the other Giant's club swinging at her.

"HOUSECARL!" Botlaf came from nowhere, throwing himself loyally between the club and his commander, taking the full force of the blow in the side. Lydia heard a sickening crunch and felt the blood drain from her face as Botlaf was flung into a nearby boulder like a child's doll. Steeling herself, she kept up the volley. 

Hroki had now joined the fray, but he couldn't keep up with the blows of the Giant. Lydia's arrows had little effect on them. She knew if she charged in, she'd definitely risk Irileth's ire, but Hroki was in trouble. He was barely dodging the surprisingly quick blows of the Giant's bulky weapon.

Lydia couldn't hold herself back any longer. She ran towards the Giant, barely hearing Tor's shouts of protest behind her. She leapt onto a boulder and pushed off as hard as she could, landing on the massive creature's back. She managed to grab hold of it's neck and lodge her sword in it, dangling from the pommel that had found its way into the Giant's windpipe. The Giant gurgled in shock, and fell over forwards. Lydia released her sword hilt and leapt out of the way before he fell on top of her. Lydia felt a jolt of pain run quickly from her ankles up through thighs as she hit the ground beside the Giant. A well aimed arrow from Tor took out the last Giant, and he fell to the ground with a massive thump. Dust and dirt flew up around the body as it hit the ground. The camp was silent for some time, with only the roaring of the fire to be heard.

Lydia and the two guardsmen panted, but Irileth seemed as calm as ever and barely winded. Irileth looked from Hroki to Lydia, looking as though she were about to say something, but apparently thought better of it.

"We'd better go get Botlaf. I don't know how long he has," Irileth said curtly. Lydia looked around and saw. Her stomach lurched. Botlaf's normally staunch and muscular form seemed thoroughly diminished as he lay crumpled by the bottom of the boulder. His right arm and leg stuck out at sickening angles. It was difficult to tell if he was unconscious or dead.

Next chapter coming soon.

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