A snow elf's path

"The Nords are coming!" Shouted a fellow snow elf in a hurry. Running as fast as he could to alert the rest of the camp who was thought to be well hidden and out of reach from the nords.

"The nords are c..." The same man tried to shout again but couldn't push the whole way through.

Because the tip of an iron arrow had struck against his back and even dug in deep enough to send the man face first on the harsh rocky ground. Shortly after several more arrows followed, digging in the same victim who had a pure intent.

The year was 420, first era. Nords started a great war against the legendary snow elves, long before history itself started to be recorded. Reasons behind it were numerous. The lust for more land, the lust for more power, several military provocations as well.

But Ysgramor started it all when he provoked the great snow elves for numerous uncalled for reasons. Forcing the snow elves to attack in order to portray their faction's domination.

Such day is now written in history as the "night of tears".

Luck was by his side that day. Ysgramor survived along with his two sons, Yngol and Ylgar while the rest of the nords in saarthal have met their end when they faced against the powerful snow elves. 

The fake king of skyrim fled back to where he came from, Atmora. And then sailed back to skyrim with the 'legendary' 500 companions of Ysgramor who helped settle skyrim.

Settle? It was nothing more but a massacre. They picked small groups one by one until they forced the rest of the elves out of skyrim and solstheim, where they met an unfortunate end in a last battle. But some small groups managed to survive throughout the ages. Having an abnormal lifespan worked to their advantage indeed.

"Attack! Attack!! Spread out!" Shouted another snow elf as he saw a brother in war becoming flooded with arrows.

Lucky for the snow elves, this time the alert was heard no doubt by most. And those who didn't hear it, could put two and two together when they saw everyone running, they would join them. This wasn't their first encounter with the nords.

The anow elves were quick on their feet and no doubt powerful if faced one on one, the chances of winning against them would indeed be thinn. But in this situation they were greatly out-numbered.

The camp didn't hold much snow elves, only a few gathered after great effort. That great effort only to end up with twenty snow elves. But the nordic attackers seem to have many men and women approaching, they seemed like they were over a hundred. But who had the time to count under such circumstances?

The snow elves ran as fast as they could, but arrows followed after no doubt. One shot was all it took to make one meet the hard ground, the fate afterwards was inevitable. And if they didn't get shot already, they would meet the end of a sword, mace, battleaxe or warhammer.

Several snow elves from the group were instantly killed, and the rest were shot down shortly after. The nords were way too close already before the attack started. Fleeing was a tough task and standing to fight was even tougher.

Regardless of what one decided, the fate of these snow elves was inevitable as they could only do so much against an ambush. The camp members dropped down one by one, their souls heading towards their deities.

One man however, met a different and more brutal fate.

Arlond.

A member who recently joined the camp, was no doubt shot by an arrow like the rest but the arrow didn't leave a devastating blow. The arrow struck his shoulder, made him lose balance and threw the man off a cliff and straight down a river.

The nords didn't bother going after him. As they thought falling from a cliff that high surely had brutal circumstances. But lucky for Arlond, he fell where the water was deep enough to slow down his landing.

It wasn't enough to have a completely smooth landing, this unlucky soul still hit the bottom of the river-bank but not hard enough to die on the spot.

However, even though the impact with the river bank didn't kill him, the splash on the water was so impactful that Arlond lost consciousness. Which killed almost all his chances of survival.

...

"Where am I?" Questioned Arlond after waking up to a ceiling above his head instead of arrows or the poor quality leather tent he had in the camp, and got a bit used to.

"You're safe here. Please do not worry and drink this healing potion." After turning his head to the left side of the bed, the man saw a stunning nordic woman standing near by, without pointing a sword near his neck that is.

Ignoring this odd situation in aims to avoid any sort of racism towards the woman who seemed to have saved him, Arlond spoke out a rather unexpected question. "What day is it?"

"Its tirdas, the 16th of the first seed. I'm guessing you know the year." Afterwards she reached out to hold the potion for him and helped the snow elf sit up as well.

Arlond felt caring warmth while this lady's hand was on his shirtless back. Afterwards she said something that in a way was both a question and an answer. 

"I'm also guessing that nords brought you to this situation, what happened? I found you on the edge of a river, you were almost lifeless. Had to squeeze the water out of you." Spoke out the stunning nordic woman while still holding the potion for him, helping with balance as well.

"Nordic bastards." The snow elf yelled out, feeling the pain in his chest right after.

"Damn!" He responded to the pain.

Remembering that the woman who saved him, was a full breed nord, he added in an apologetic tone. "No offense to you of course, I was never treated by a nord with kindness. I also never slept for two days."

Afterwards he took the last mouthful of the healing potion and felt a lot better. The pain wasn't gone entirely but he felt a lot more relief now. One can't really put a price on health and wellbeing.

Avoiding eye contact with the snow elf, carrying embarrassment too, she said. "I'm ashamed to share the same race with the same nords who caused so much pain through history. So don't worry about it."

"You sound less short sighted, I like you." He replied with a smile and decided to trust her enough to lend proper information. "Nords, they attacked our camp. I didn't see a lot of the battle but I'm sure that there is no other snow elf left, the nords were too many. We were ambushed, overwhelmed."

"For once I hoped that the nords didn't have a finger in this. I was a fool to think so." Rage regardless, there wasn't much to do about it.

Trying to calm her down, Arlond added. "Unfortunately that's how skyrim is right now. What is your name? Miss?"