From Rommel's journal:
20th of Last Seed, 401
I finally met Ralof's sister. She was working across the way at her mill and had been expecting me. We pvssyd briefly about Helgen and the dragon. She gave me a key to her house (ha!) and told me I'd find Ralof there and to take whatever I needed ( oh, I will...).
She did, however, have a small favor to ask in return,
Spoiler that I ask the jarl in whiterun to send help incase the dragon comes here next
. I nodded, ok ok, and trotted off, intent on surveying the surrounding area.
I spent the better part of the morning hunting and gathering materials to craft some better armor. I also picked some herbs and flowers that I'd discovered have some restorative properties.
When I returned to town I paid the smith a visit. He was happy to lend me the use of his shop and I quickly set to work sharpening my blades and crafting a new set of leather for myself.
The smith was apparently impressed with my work and when I was through he asked if I'd help him out a bit. I agreed and after a few basic tasks the ol'fellow paid me a few septims and taught me a thing or two about his trade to boot.
After a satisfying days work I headed over to the inn to relax and enjoy some well deserved mead...
Alas! When I entered I was greeted by the most horrific of sounds, like the braying of a she-mule in heat. And there, at the head of the common room, stood the source of this cacophony, lute in hand... A graduate, no doubt, of the bards college.
I made a bee line for the man, intent on shutting him up that I may enjoy my mead in peace, but somehow the damn fool mistook my ire for joviality, my scorn for witty banter? I know not how it came to pass but before I knew it he was sitting beside me ordering two meads... At least the "singing" had stopped.
But in its stead, as though I was his oldest friend, he told me more than I cared to know of his life and loves, past conquests and the current object of his affection, not to mention the competition for said harlet's heart.
Beside himself with grief and, for whatever cowardly reasoning, unable to directly confront his competition, he has devised a scheme to deceive the one he purports to love and besmirch the name of the other man.
Not one bit interested in anything this lily livered manling has to say I have been absentmindedly nodding to everything he says... I now find myself alone at long last with only my mead and a letter
Spoiler that I am supposed to deliver to some local wench by the name of Camilla...