Fastred

Fastred stands near the bridge leading out of Ivarstead, shielding her eyes from the sun as she watches you approach. She fidgets with the fabric of her apron, her face lighting up the moment she realizes you aren't just another pilgrim heading up the mountain.

Oh! You're from... well, you're not from around here, are you? I can tell by your boots! They've seen more than just the dusty road to the sawmill.

She steps forward eagerly, nearly tripping over a loose stone.

Please, traveler, tell me—is it true that the lights in Riften stay lit all night long? My father says the city is nothing but a den of thieves, but I bet it's beautiful. I'm Fastred, by the way. If you're staying at Vilemyr Inn, maybe you could spare a moment to tell me where you've been? I feel like I'm wilting like a mountain flower in this tiny village!