Troll

30th Last Seed

Ivarstead is a lovely little town.  I've befriended a woman named Temba Wide-Arm, who is happy to pay a fair wage for chopping wood.  She's a nice person, although a bit obsessed and vindictive toward bears.  I stayed in town for a couple of nights, laboring for Temba, and generally lying low in case there are any more assassins out there carrying notes with my name on them.

But, I still had Windhelm and Winterhold to get to, and I eventually realized that if the Dark Brotherhood wants to kill me, I'll be a lot safer in a big walled city like Windhelm or at the Mage's College than I am in a peaceful, largely undefended town like Ivarstead.

So early this morning, I got up and roused Faendal, and we hit the road out of town.  He had decided to return home to Riverwood after so kindly escorting me to Riften, and our plan was to travel together as far as the crossroads where the paths to Windhelm and Whiterun diverged.

I'm afraid we didn't get very far this morning.  Not more than a mile or two out of Ivarstead, we encountered a troll, right on the accursed road.

I'm a capable hunter, but I have more sense than to pick a fight with a troll.  I immediately tried to hide, hoping to find a way around, or at least hoping to retreat without catching its attention, but my efforts were futile.  The savage thing spotted us from an arrow's flight distant, and charged us.
We both put several arrows in it as it closed in, but it truly didn't seem to mind them.

We fled, but the troll was relentless.  It ran us down.  I have read that only fire is effective against trolls, so I tried the only fire spell that I know.  It was better than the arrows, but ambitions aside, I'm no mage yet.  I couldn't sustain the magic long enough to accomplish the job, especially when I needed most of my rather limited arcane energies to keep closing my wounds as it tore away at me with it grotesque claws.

Each time we fought the beast off for a moment, we would flee, staggering back toward the town as I used my healing spell to stitch my flesh back together.  And each time the monster would pursue, and the nightmare would begin again.  It went on like that all the way back to Ivarstead, until we finally reached the village, and the townsfolk took up weapons and converged on the troll.

It took six of us to bring it down, but nobody was killed, thank Akatosh.

Faendal and I took an hour to recover over lunch, then set out again in the early afternoon.  We found the troll's den near where we first encountered it, the ground littered with human remains.  After that horrid experience, the sabrecat I encountered later this afternoon seemed a mere kitten.

Faendal and I parted ways at the crossroads as planned, he turning west on the road to Riverwood via Whiterun, I continuing north to the city of Windhelm.

Windhelm itself is unremarkable.  I've met the smith and the alchemist, both of whom are looking for things I can't help them with.  I also did some buying and selling, and visited that bastard Ulfric's palace, though he was engrossed in a conversation about his idiotic war and I elected not to speak with him.

I had hoped to merely stop in Windhelm for Waylandriah's soul gem and then push on to Winterhold, but that plan was predicated on not being delayed several hours by a troll attack, so instead I've rented a room at Candlehearth hall.  In the morning I will hire a carriage to take me to Winterhold.

Normally I would travel on foot, but I have enough coin to spare for a ride, at the moment, and after this morning I am hesitant to brave the snowy road alone -- I have heard frost trolls are not uncommon in the region.