A Walk in the Woods

by Vhetin1138

A simple walk in the woods becomes a bonding moment for the new Dragonborn and her Housecarl. Rated T for violence and language.

Part 1 of 3

Author's Note: This is my first try at a Skyrim fanfiction. It's a bit of a departure from the usual sci-fi stories I like to write, but I had a few separate motivations for trying this. One, I wanted to experiment with a story involving a low-level Dragonborn before he/she was a great hero, when they were untested and maybe a little more sensitive or afraid of the power they have. Two, I wanted to write a scene that actually gave Lydia (my favorite follower next to Serana and the modded Officer Jenkins) an actual personality. It should be said that I'm not super familiar with Elder Scrolls lore, so forgive me if I butcher any canon-related material. Without further ado, I'll get this underway. Happy reading!

Early Evening, Whiterun Hold Forest

Lydia hefted her travel pack so it rested more securely on her shoulders. She trudged through the soggy ground, her boots splashing in the puddles of rainwater that pooled up on the forest floor. Her hair was matted to her face and her carefully-maintained steel armor was dripping wet and splattered with mud. She squinted against the pouring rain, eyes focused on her Thane just ahead of her.

Her Thane moved with a grace only a Bosmer could possess. The mud and fallen trees didn't even seem to slow her down and she was carrying her pack as if it was as light as a feather. Granted, it could be the fact that her Thane was wearing a thin layer of chainmail, a lightweight leather jerkin, and weathered traveling pants, while Lydia was burdened by heavy steel plating, gloves, and boots with her shield in one hand and her sword sheathed on her belt.

I do admit, she thought as they continued toward Ivarstead, we Nords could learn a lot from the elves. Her armor has served her well so far and she obviously has the training to defend herself despite her light armor.

She still wondered how her Thane had managed to survive the dragon attack only days before with such flimsy armor. She assumed the elf was a proficient warrior (though Lydia had never actually seen her in battle) but even the strongest Skyforge steel couldn't hold up for long against dragon fire.

Additionally, the woman simply did not look like a fighter. For one, she was short, almost a whole head shorter than Lydia's admittedly considerable height. She was also slender and graceful, carrying herself more like a gymnast or dancer. She was certainly attractive enough to excel in such a profession; she was one of the most beautiful women Lydia had ever seen. Nord men and women looked much more... rough. A lifetime of living among the frigid peaks of Skyrim had left most Nords with rough, pale skin and calloused hands. But her Thane had smooth, olive-colored skin, light brown eyes, and long, raven-black hair with a collection of beaded braids that hung across her shoulders.

Her Thane had told her that she was actually not a pureblooded Bosmer, but actually half Bosmer, half Imperial. As a result, the woman did not possess the angular face and wildly slanted eyes that a true Bosmer possessed, and looked much more like a Breton or even a Redguard. But she carried herself with such poise and grace that her elven heritage was unmistakable.

She remembered when she had first been assigned to her Thane. Leaving her previous post behind had been less than pleasing, but no one refused an order from Proventus Avenicci. As the Jarl's steward, his orders came straight from the mouth of the Jarl himself.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Lydia had said, saluting as Avenicci approached. Avenicci, a mid-sized, balding man in expensive linen robes, had bowed his head to her in greeting.

"I bring word from the Jarl,"the steward had said. "You are to report to the armory for immediate reassignment."

"Reassignment?" Lydia had echoed, frowning at him behind her helmet faceplate. "But... why?"

"The Jarl believes you to be well-suited to serve as a housecarl. He has made his decision, and expects it to be followed."

"Housecarl... this wouldn't have anything to do with that stranger that came into town yesterday, would it?"

Aveniici didn't make any motion to confirm or deny the question. He merely held her gaze calmly and said, "The armorer is expecting you. You will be outfitted with new armor in preparation for your next assignment."

"But-"

Before she could continue, she heard shouts nearby and an otherworldly roar off in the distance. She turned to see the Western Watchtower, far off on the horizon, glowing like a lit bonfire. Avenicci saw it too and murmured, "Divines save us."

He quickly turned and sprinted back to Dragonsreach, while Lydia jogged over to the walkway overlooking Whiterun's main gate. She squinted to see what was happening off in the distance. She could see the Western Watchtower on fire, as well as the tiny figures of guards, silhouetted against the blazing flames.

"By Ysmir," she murmured. "What's happening?"

Other guards had drifted over, staring into the distance as well. One of the guards clutched at an amulet around his neck and murmured, "Talos save us. It's a dragon!"

"Impossible," Lydia said. "The dragons have been gone for generations."

"Didn't you hear about Helgen? They said it was attacked by a dragon. Whiterun must be next!"

Lydia didn't answer. She just watched as a bright cone of fire lit up the night, blazing around the tower. Another terrifying roar split the night and more than one guard flinched. One guard shook his head and murmured, "If the dragons have returned, the end times have surely come. It's just like the prophecies said."

Lydia didn't know if there was indeed a dragon attacking the watchtower. But as she heard the distant roars and the screaming of guards, she knew that Skyrim was never going to be the same.

Hours later, and Lydia was standing at attention in her new steel armor, shield in hand, waiting for word of her new post. She adjusted the heavy collar of her armor. The armorer, an unpleasant Imperial, had provided her with a thick fur battle shirt with steel plating. The armor had come with accompanying gloves, boots, sword, and shield. She had also been provided with a rough leather supply pack and a thick green traveling cloak.

The armor was unnaturally heavy and the fur combat shirt was itchy and uncomfortable. Her shield was heavy, much heavier than her previous armaments, and her sword was clunky and unfamiliar. She was sure she would grow accustomed to the new protection, and her current nervousness made her current discomfort seem inconsequential in comparison.

"So you're the one assigned to the Dragonborn, eh?"

She spun to find one of the guards standing behind her, expression unreadable behind his heavy helmet.

"Dragonborn?" Lydia said. "What do you mean?"

"The newcomer," the guard replied. "The one that entered the city the other day. There's been talk among the guards that she's Dragonborn."

"I thought the Dragonborn only existed in legends."

"I thought so too," the guard admitted. "But some of the fellows who survived the dragon attack say that she absorbed its soul. Ripped it right out of its body as some kind of colorful mist. There was nothing left but bones afterward."

Lydia didn't answer, absorbing this new information. She eventually sighed and said, "I guess I'll find out myself soon enough."

"Aye," the guard said. "Talos guide you, kinsman."

"And you."

She waited in trepidation for a few moments more before a woman appeared at the top of the steps in front of them. Lydia's heart leaped into her throat as she saw that the woman was wearing the city's yellow armor and the ceremonial Axe of Whiterun. She was the Thane. Her Thane.

She took a deep breath and walked forward to meet the woman. "Honor to you, Thane. The Jarl has assigned me to be your Housecarl..."

Lydia still remembered how nervous she was around her Thane for the first few days. She rarely spoke and just tried to simply stay out of her way. But no matter how hard she tried, she always seemed to be tripping over her own feet or getting in her Thane's way.

She still didn't quite know what to think about the elven warrior she was now sworn to serve. She was gentle and kind and had a cheerful sense of humor. But she was also ruthless in battle and a deadly fighter with bow and dagger. They had accidentally stumbled across a bandit camp earlier in the day and her Thane had easily dealt with their attackers, felling them all with precise shots from her bow. They hadn't even managed to land a scratch on Lydia or her Thane. After seeing her in action, she was sure the woman was a proficient warrior. But would she be able to save all of Skyrim from the threat of the dragons? The guards had said it was her destiny. Lydia wasn't so sure.

Her Thane suddenly stopped, kneeling next to a leafy bush. Lydia came to a halt, her armor clanking loudly as she was taken by surprise. She almost ran headlong into the Dragonborn. "My Thane? Is something wrong?"

The woman shook her head silently, holding a finger up to silence her. She bowed her head, closing her eyes and folding her hands in front of her, as if offering up some sacrifice to Sovngarde. She murmured something beneath her breath, too quiet for Lydia to hear. Then she lifted up the lower branches of the bush to reveal a growth of stunningly bright blue flowers beneath.

"Duvaineth flowers," her Thane murmured, brushing the delicate petals with her fingertips. "My namesake. They're very useful when mixed into a poultice and used to disinfect wounds."

She traced her soft fingers over the stem of one of the flowers and gently pulled it from the ground. She straightened, cradling the flower like a newborn babe. Then she tucked it gently into a pack on her belt, murmuring, "My thanks..."

"May..." Lydia hesitated. "May I ask you a question, my Thane?"

The woman smiled and folded her arms. "Shoot."

"You aren't Bosmeri."

"No. My mother was an Imperial. I believe I mentioned this before."

"Then... why do you follow Bosmer tradition? Why hold nature in such high esteem?"

The woman smiled again, then set off into the forest once more. Thunder rumbled over their heads, the rain coming down harder than ever now. "I may not be a pureblood elf, but I was still raised in Valenwood. I was brought up under elven customs, taught to embrace nature and become one with everything in it. I take nothing from the forests that I do not ask for, and I do my best to tend to any ailing creature I come across."

Lydia thought over this for a time before eventually saying, "Does that include dragons?"

Her Thane hesitated. "Dragons are... a special case. I think."

"How so?"

"The dragons want to enslave everything. They are a force of destruction, and little else. Their fire could consume this entire forest within days if they wanted to. If left in their control, the everything green and beautiful in this world would be reduced to ashes."

She shrugged. "At least... that's how I justify it."

"I see." They walked in silence for a time before Lydia spoke again. "And what... what is it like? Absorbing a dragon's soul?"

Her Thane was silent for a long time, then eventually sighed. "It's... difficult to explain. The guards at Whiterun called it devouring the soul, but it's not like that. I'm not consuming anything, but... I'm not sure. More like embracing it."

The woman tucked a sopping wet strand of hair behind her ear, the beads in her hair clicking as she did. "Imagine you're soaking down into a warm bath. You can feel the water lapping against your skin, soothing your muscles. You can feel the heat radiating from the water, washing away all your pain and discomfort. You feel calm, content, and safe."

Lydia could definitely imagine that; part of her wished she was settling into a bath right now instead of trekking through the cold Skyrim rain.

"Then," her Thane continued, "imagine that the water could somehow soak through your skin, right into your body. You can feel it warm your blood and set your fingers and toes on fire. Your heart begins to pound as the heat fills you to the brink. And just when it seems unbearable, when you feel like you may just burst into flames yourself, it suddenly dies back into a gentle smoldering sensation in the center of your chest."

"I see. Is there anything else?"

"There is," the Dragonborn said slowly. "And this is the part that is difficult to explain. What is being absorbed into your body is the dragon's soul. Everything that it was, everything that made it unique and alive is drawn and mixed into yourself. It... becomes part of you, as much as your arm or leg."

Lydia eyed the woman carefully. "So... you have a dragon inside you? Is that dangerous?"

"No, no. Not really, anyway. The dragon's mind ceases to exist when its soul is absorbed. But in the transitional phase, when its soul is torn from its body and blended into mine, it... struggles. It's still aware. And when I absorb its soul, its emotions come through as well."

"What kind of emotions?"

"The dragon I killed at Whiterun was... sad, more than anything. It didn't want to die."

"Who does?" Lydia observed quietly.

"I don't know," her Thane said. "But there was such a mournful sensation that came with it. It's last words were Dovahkiin, no."

She shook her head. "I almost burst into tears as soon as it was finished. I don't know how I managed to keep from doing so in front of the guards."

"Did you?" Lydia asked, her voice almost a whisper. "Cry, I mean."

"I...," her Thane took a shaky breath. "I did. As soon as I was out of sight. I sat down behind a boulder and cried. It was just... overwhelming. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Nord legend states that the Dovakhiin has the body of a man and the soul of a dragon," Lydia offered. "According to tradition, they are your kin. It can't be easy for you to kill them."

"It's not," the Dragonborn admitted. "But it has to be done. I don't know why the dragons are coming back but if your legends are true, I'm the only one who can kill them for good. I'll do whatever it takes."

"We."

She turned back, a frown creasing her smooth olive skin. "What?"

Lydia blinked. "We will do whatever it takes. I am your Housecarl. I am sworn to protect you with my life. If your destiny is to become the greatest dragon slayer Skyrim has ever known, then I'll be there at your side."

She smiled, a little sheepishly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll turn out to be the second-best dragon slayer."

Her Thane stared at her for a few moments, then smiled and nodded slowly. She turned back to face her and put a hand on Lydia's thick fur shoulder pad. Her pale brown eyes flashed with deep gratitude. "Thank you, Lydia. That... means a lot to me."

Lydia bowed her head. "You are far from home, my Thane, facing a destiny you never wished for. It is the least I can do to serve in such a way."

The Dragonborn squeezed her shoulder, then hefted her rucksack and set off again. As they continued hiking, the half-elf said, "Duvaineth, by the way."

"Pardon?"

"My name. If you're going to be the second-best dragon slayer in Skyrim, you can at least call my by my name. Or you can just call me Duvai if the whole thing is too intimidating."

"As you wish, my Th-" She caught herself just in time. "I mean, Duvai."

Her Thane chuckled as they walked. "I think we're going to work well together, Lydia."

About five minutes later, they passed a collection of large boulders, around which a lean and angry-looking wolf was pacing back and forth. The two gave the wolf a wide berth, not interested in a fight. As they began to lose the light, the Dragonborn – Duvai, Lydia reminded herself – summoned a Candlelight orb that hovered just over her shoulder, providing them both with more than enough light to continue their march.

"I have a question for you now."

Lydia started, unprepared. "Pardon?"

"I have a question for you," Duvaineth repeated. She glanced over her shoulder, the quickly away, as if uncomfortable. "May I ask you something?"

"I-I guess so."

"What do you think of me?"

Lydia blinked. The question was unexpected, and it made Lydia more than a little uncomfortable. She hesitated, licking her lips. "You... are my Thane. A warrior with more skill with blade and bow than any other I've seen. You have won the Jarl's confidence, and therefore my own. I believe you are destined to save Skyrim from the dragons and I would willingly follow you to Sovngarde to ensure that happened."

It was a careful, measured response. Lydia was actually quite pleased with it, but her Thane did not seem as comforted. She sighed wearily and pushed her wet hair from her eyes. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, echoing to them through the trees.

"I thought as much," she said softly. She stopped completely, turning to face Lydia with her hands on her hips. She fixed Lydia with a powerful stare and said, "I am your Thane, yes. I am also the Dragonborn. But I thought I was also a friend."

"You... you are!" Lydia insisted. She knew the term friend was a little too strong considering they'd only known each other for two days, but she respected Duvaineth and she knew this assignment would be much harder if the half-blood elf didn't trust her. "You are my Thane and-"

"That's not the same," Duvai said. Her gaze softened, looking insistent. "I need to know, Lydia. Everywhere I go, people are suddenly looking to me for help. Save Skyrim, they say. Meet the Jarl. Kill the dragon. Meet the Graybeards. They say I'm a hero, but I feel like little more than a shared errand girl for all of Skyrim."

She met Lydia's gaze and held it carefully. Lydia shifted uncomfortably, but held her Thane's gaze as the woman said, "I need to know if you think of me the same way. Do you only value me as your savior?"

Lydia bit her lip. This was all a little too personal for her. She sighed and said, "I... I don't know, my Thane."

Duvaineth sighed, shoulders slumping in disappointment. Lydia grimaced; she didn't want to upset the elf. She just wasn't good at this soft stuff. She was a Nord. Matters of the heart were different for her people. Still, she decided to try again.

"You want the truth," Lydia said softly. It was obvious skirting around the question was not going to ease her Thane's conscience. Perhaps it was time to come clean with the truth. If she truly trusted her Thane with her life, Lydia needed to trust her with her opinions as well.

She grimaced and said, "The truth is that I don't know how to look at you. You hold a power many believed little more than a myth. Days ago you were no one; a half-blood refugee sneaking across the border. In a matter of days, dragons began to return from the dead, the Stormcloaks are attacking with increased fervor, and you prove yourself to be – of all things – a dragon slayer. I'm not surprised that everyone wants a piece of you."

She took a deep breath. Too late to turn back now. "The truth, my Thane, is that you scare me. Your power scares me, your intentions scare me, and your destiny scares me. I don't know what you intend to do with your newfound power. Ulfric Stormcloak was granted the power of the Voice and with that power he tore Skyrim apart. I don't want to see that rift compounded."

Lydia met her Thane's gaze. "What I want most is for Skyrim to be united again. This civil war is tearing us apart. I don't care about the Empire or the Stormcloaks. But I am tired of watching brother pitted against brother, father against son, family against family. And yes, I hope you will use your abilities to save Skyrim from destruction."

Duvai wasn't moving, her eyes narrowed curiously. She watched Lydia with something in her eyes (Anger? Disappointment?) with her arms folded across her chest, listening intently. Lydia took a deep breath and powered through to the end. "Skyrim needs a hero to save it. But I don't know what kind of hero. And I'm not sure yet if that hero is you."

She finally stopped, preparing for the inevitable backlash. Duvai just continued staring at her with that curious look in her eyes. Eventually the half-elf smiled, just one corner of her mouth twitching upward. "So you don't want the heroic Dragonborn to do some service for you? No family members in need of rescuing, no bandits that need killing?"

Lydia looked up into the downpour and said, "All I want is to get out of this rain. With respect, my Thane, of course."

Duvai nodded and assured her, "We'll settle down before long. But if we're going to reach the Throat of the World with good time, we need to keep moving."

"I'm accustomed to travel in this manner," Lydia said, "but I would prefer to get somewhere warm and dry. A tavern, if possible."

"I'll make it a priority," Duvaineth said. "Next inn we pass, we'll bed down for the night. If not, we'll set up camp and get out of this weather."

"Thank you, my Thane."

Together, they set off into the forest once again. They lapsed into silence for some time, Duvaineth with her eyes fixed always on the road ahead, Lydia following close behind, listening to the steady tap, tap, tap of rain droplets against her steel armor. Some time later, Duvaineth suddenly spoke up.

"So what about you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I've told you how I arrived here. As long as we're having this little heart-to-heart, you might as well share as well. What's your story?"

Lydia scoffed. "I'm no hero. I don't have one worth telling."

Duvaineth glanced over her shoulder. "I've traveled across most of Tamriel and I've rarely met anyone who didn't have a story worth telling; those who had poor stories told anyway. Come on, Lydia. Your Thane commands it."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at the woman, but the humorous note in the half-elf's voice made it hard to be angry with her. So she heaved an exasperated sigh and said, "I've lived in Skyrim all my life. I was born in Whiterun hold, on a small farm some distance outside Whiterun."

"A Nord through and through, huh?"

"Essentially. My father raised goats. My mother grew potatoes and corn to sell at the markets. We lived a simple life."

"No brothers or sisters?"

"I have a brother," Lydia said. "But I haven't seen him in over a decade. I don't know where he is, or if he's alive or dead. We were never that close."

"So did you always want to be a housecarl? Or did Jarl Balgruuf choose you for a different reason?"

"I never believed I would be a housecarl," Lydia said with a wry smile. "That was always Irileth's honor. And the other Thanes never seemed to stick around long enough to need a housecarl."

"There are other Thanes in Whiterun?"

"Of course," Lydia said. "Alfhedil the Dark, Djadmu Jolgar, Brandr the Wall... There are several who have been recognized for their bravery and courage. But most were simply adventurers or sellswords who assisted Whiterun during a time of need. They rarely accepted servants and soon after left Whiterun to continue their adventures."

"So why did the Jarl assign you as my housecarl?" Duvai brushed past a low-hanging willow branch. "I mean... wait, hold up."

Duvaineth stopped, holding a hand out to halt their progress. Lydia's heart skipped a beat as two blazing green eyes suddenly flashed open in the willow tree's trunk. Before Lydia's eyes, a leafy, tree-like Spriggan seemed to blend right out of the bark. It looked roughly human in shape, but was made completely out of living wood and twisted, gnarled branches. The open core of its chest glowed a bright green and torchbugs buzzed around its wooden arms and legs. It buzzed and hissed at them in a strange, hostile language.

But Duvai didn't seem perturbed; cautious, but not afraid. She merely bowed her head to the creature and retreated a few steps. She held out her hands to the Spriggan in a placating gesture, pointedly avoiding eye contact, and said, "My sincerest apologies, Forest-Child. I meant no disrespect. I will not touch your tree again."

The Spriggan stared at her, it's twig-like fingers flexing slowly. Then it said something again in that voice that sounded like snapping branches and shaking leaves. It nodded its head, then pressed itself back against the willow, once again blending right into the tree trunk. Its green eyes closed, the torchbugs dispersed, and in a few moments it was as if nothing had ever been there.

Duvai let out a long breath. "That was close. Spriggans are generally peaceful, but easy to provoke. Thankfully an apology will sometimes placate them faster than a sword will kill them."

She flashed Lydia a smile, then said, "I'll pay closer attention. Please, continue with your story."

Lydia glanced back at the willow as they passed. The Spriggan's green eyes opened again as they walked by, watching them to ensure they did not touch its tree again. Lydia shuddered and turned her attention back to the glowing white Candlelight orb ahead, illuminating their path through the trees. "To answer your question, I never volunteered to be a housecarl. It is not a position one applies for. Housecarls are chosen, handpicked by the Jarl."

"So what did you do before the Jarl chose you?"

"I was a Whiterun guard," Lydia said. "Although not exactly the best the city had to offer."

"If you make a crack about taking an arrow to the knee, I think I might have to cut your throat myself."

Lydia laughed. "I wouldn't dare, my Thane. I never enjoyed that joke either."

"So what did you do as a guard? Break up fights at the Bannered Mare? Escort Nazeem to his precious Cloud District every morning?"

"I was assigned to the eastern border wall patrol. I would keep watch from sunset to sunrise. Not exactly the most exciting of assignments, but it paid the bills. Not that I'm complaining about my current work."

Duvai chuckled as she hopped nimbly across a small, trickling stream. She turned as she waited for Lydia to catch up. "Still, the guards of Whiterun are responsible for the maintaining the safety and order of one of Skyrim's most important cities. Your parents must have been proud."

Lydia's face fell slightly. "They... they were not alive to see it, my Thane. They were killed during a bandit attack when I was thirteen. I escaped and was sent to Whiterun, to be trained as a guard. I never returned to my parents' farm after that."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Duvai said. "I wish I could say I know how you feel, but I never really knew my parents."

"I thought you said your mother was Imperial?"

"She was," Duvai admitted. "But I never met her. Just heard about her from others. It's not often that wood elves marry outside of the mer people, so many in Valenwood knew of my mother and father. But I never met them."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Duvai said. "I was found alone in the woods when I was three years old and taken to a nearby orphanage run by the Thalmor. Many simply assumed my parents abandoned me for whatever reason. After that, I was traded between various Bosmer caretakers who despised me because of my half-blood heritage. When I was old enough to run away and survive, I escaped Valenwood and never looked back. I was soon after taken in by an old Bosmer hermit who taught me how to shoot a bow. He taught me the intricacies of my elven heritage as well. When he died, I took to adventuring, and I've been doing that ever since."

"But then why... um, never mind."

"What?"

"Well... when news of your battle with the dragon first arrived in Whiterun, some of the guards said you were only in Skyrim because you had been arrested crossing the border illegally. You had to know the Empire patrols our borders relentlessly, and the only areas they don't are blocked by mountains. Why were you so desperate to get into Skyrim?"

Duvai sighed. "I was in a very bad situation. I was septimless, starving, and afraid. I had found no good fortune in Cyrodiil. There I was a thief and a criminal, hunted by everyone who knew my name. I wanted to find somewhere new, somewhere fresh where I could try to find a life again. I'd never been to Skyrim, so it seemed like the perfect choice."

"Many would not agree with your reasoning," Lydia said. "Between the dragons, the Thalmor, and the Stormcloaks, Skyrim is not the most peaceful place to begin anew."

"In my defense, there were no dragons when I crossed the border. And look at me now; I've only been here a week or so and I'm already a hero of Whiterun, the legendary Dragonborn, with a sworn mission to save all of Tamriel and a friend with which to share my adventures. It seems to have worked out well for me."

"Well," Lydia said, "when you put it like that, I guess you're right... friend."

Her Thane flashed her another smile. "I guess times are looking up for the both of us."

"I think you're-"

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

There was a sudden deafening roar and a blast of orange-white light. A torrent of flame exploded down out of the night, setting the treetops alight. Lydia cursed, throwing aside her heavy supply pack and drawing her sword from its sheath. "Dragon!"

The staggering downdraft of the dragon's wings buffeted them, almost knocking Lydia off her feet. She fixed her eyes on the starry sky, looking for the attacking creature. She could hear it roaring and bellowing at them in its ancient, guttural language, but she couldn't see it. The light of the flaming treetops illuminated their surroundings, casting everything into harsh orange light.

Duvaineth seemed to be frozen, staring at the flaming trees in horror. She let out a strangled moan, hands laying limp at her sides. She didn't even flinch as the dragon swooped low over her head, unleashing another blaze of fire in her direction. Lydia saw this and threw herself into action, charging forward and tackling her Thane around the waist before she could be engulfed by the flame. The action threw her into the dragon's path instead and she felt heat wash against the back of her armor.

They fell heavily to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Duvaineth struggled against Lydia's weight, continuing to stare at the burning forest. "They're burning," she kept moaning. "They're burning!"

"My Thane!" Lydia shouted over the dragon's roar. "You have to fight!"

"I... It's killing them!"

"Yes," Lydia shouted. "It's killing the trees. And we'll be next if you don't do something!"

But Duvaineth couldn't hear her. Her eyes were wide and staring; she was obviously in shock. Lydia grimaced against another inferno that rained down from the sky and decided more drastic measures were needed. So she reached down and slapped her Thane hard across the face. Duvaineth cried out, eyes watering. Lydia knew any normal Thane would probably take her hand for that, but Duvai needed to focus if they were going to survive the next few minutes.

"Dragonborn!" Lydia shouted. She grabbed her by the front of her leather jerkin and shook her roughly. "I need you!"

Duvaineth finally seemed to regain her senses. She blinked a few times, then struggled out from beneath her Housecarl and threw her heavy rucksack aside. She pulled the leather cap off the arrow quiver over her shoulder and scooped her deadly shortbow off the ground. Her eyes narrowed and she growled, "Get behind me."

Lydia let out a sigh of relief and clambered to her feet, grasping her sword firmly. The dragon circled above them once more before plummetting through the air and slamming hard into the ground. A fountain of dirt was thrown into the air from the force of its landing. It lumbered forward, fixing its blazing yellow eyes on them.

"Rise and fight, puny mortals!" it rumbled, snapping its huge jaws. "I have slumbered long. Now I am raghron and hunger for battle."

Duvaineth clenched a fist, her figure illuminated by the flickering light of the fire around them. "You should have stayed asleep, bastard."

"Pruzah. Good. A fiery spirit will provide much sport. Defend yourself, joor. My fire will consume the world!"

Then it lunged forward, bellowing out, "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

A hellish cone of fire erupted from the dragon's throat. Lydia shouted and raised her shield to block the fire, while Duvaineth threw out a hand and projected a barrier of magic to block the flame. The dragon continued the onslaught until its flame was momentarily exhausted. Only then did Lydia and Duvaineth leap into action.

The dragon let out a deafening roar and clambered forward, digging its taloned wings into the ground to pull itself toward them. Lydia ducked as the dragon's tail lashed out at her, slicing through the air just over her head. She threw herself in a somersault and came up near the dragon's rear leg.

Duvaineth loosed an arrow that flashed through the air and embedded itself in the scales at the dragon's neck. It flinched and roared at the woman, lumbering after her. Duvaineth quickly sprinted forward, planting her boot on a scorched tree stump and propelling herself into the air. She landed boots-first on the dragon's neck, struggling to maintain her balance as the great beast thrashed and struggled beneath her. She drew another arrow from its quiver and fired it point blank into the dragon's skull. It howled in pain, throwing its head back and letting out an earth-shaking roar. Lydia darted forward and stabbed her steel sword deep into the dragon's thigh, feeling the blade sink deep into the monster's flesh. A spray of dark blood erupted from the wound, staining her chest plate. She yanked her blade free and slashed down with a powerful blow that carved through scale and flesh alike. The dragon let out a thundering roar, its sick warm breath blasting Lydia's hair back. The rotting stench made her gag, momentarily distracting her.

The dragon thrashed its head, knocking Duvai from its neck, and the Dragonborn flew through the air to crash hard into a fallen tree trunk. She quickly shook off the blow and rose to her feet, clutching her side. Lydia sprinted over, leaving the dragon behind for now. "Are you all right, my Thane?"

Duvai shook her off. "I'm fine. Keep fighting!"

With three mighty wingbeats, the dragon lifted off into the sky with a bellow. "You shall be scorched to ash like the rest of your kind!"

Duvai quickly drew her bow back and loosed another arrow. It whistled out into the night, but didn't hurt the dragon. The arrow simply bounced off the hardened scales, spinning away into the forest. Duvai fired three more times, to the same result.

The Dragonborn let out a curse in her native Bosmer language and sprinted away as the dragon loosed another barrage of flame at her. "I can't get a good shot from here! Find a way to bring him down!"

Lydia stared at the woman. "You're joking, right?"

"We can't fly! Get it on the ground and we'll even out this fight!"

Right, she thought, taking a deep breath. Bring the dragon down. Simple enough.

She looked around, then sprinted back to the center of the clearing, eyes never leaving the dark shadow of the dragon circling above them. She waved her arms over her head and shouted, "Over here dragon! Come and get me!"

The creature wasn't interested. It circled again and let down another cone of fire, setting a huge swath of forest ablaze. Near the edge of the clearing, Duvai screamed and covered her head as more of the trees around her burst into flame.

The destruction of the forest was obviously deeply affecting the Dragonborn, distracting her from the battle at hand. Lydia needed to find a way to stop the dragon from burning the trees. She grasped her blade tightly and thought, There's one sure-fire way to get that thing's attention. And it's a really, really bad idea.

She spread her arms wide and shouted at the top of her lungs. "Dragon! Face me!"

It circled high over her with a dark, rumbling laugh. "Krin joor. Courageous mortal. Why do you wish to face my yol, my fire?"

Lydia grimaced and shouted, "I am Dovahkiin! I am Dragonborn!"

That certainly got the dragon's attention. It circled around to face her, sweeping its wings out as it came in for a landing. It slammed into the ground again, hard enough to shake the earth beneath Lydia's boots. She staggered slightly, then stood tall and tried to look unafraid. She failed miserably.

"Dovahkiin?" the dragon grumbled, drawing itself up to stare at her. "Unslaad hokoron. The Eternal Enemy."

"You will face me," Lydia said, sounding considerably braver than she currently felt. "No more running. My soul is Dovah, and you will treat me as such!"

The dragon snarled at her, arching its back and shaking its spines. "I will devour your soul for the moro, the glory, of Al-du-in, the Eater of Worlds!"

Then it roared and threw itself forward, baring its hand-length fangs. Lydia crouched behind her shield as the dragon unleashed another torrent of flame in her direction. The dragon's fire broke against her shield, buffeting her with heat and singing the fur of her armor. She let out a shout as the inferno continued, the power of the blast almost knocking her off her feet.

"Lydia!" Duvai shouted from somewhere behind her. "Hold on!"

But now the dragon was right on top of her. The flame finally stopped, leaving her shield red-hot and smoking. The dragon towered over her before reaching down and snapping at her with its giant teeth. She dodged the attack, bringing her sword down on the dragon's spiny crest. The dragon flinched, then slammed its head against her shield. Lydia managed to brace her feet just in time. Her boots dug into the dirt as she was driven back a few steps. She shoved against the dragon, managing to hold it back until Duvai loosed an arrow that embedded itself into the soft, unarmored flesh just behind its jaw.

The dragon roared in pain and drew back, letting out a loud screech as it shook its head in a vain attempt to dislodge the projectile. Lydia took advantage of the distraction and darted forward, burying her steel sword between the thick scales of the dragon's chest. It roared, deafeningly loud, and recoiled.

"Lydia!" Duvai shouted. "Get down!"

Lydia didn't stop to think. She dropped to her hands and knees, just in time to see Duvai pull her bow over her shoulder and draw her twin steel daggers from their sheaths on the back of her belt. She sprinted forward with unnatural speed, then planted a boot on Lydia's back and used the step to vault herself into the air. She stabbed forward with both her blades, digging them deep into the underside of the dragon's neck. She clutched tight to dragon as the beast screamed and lifted off into the air. After only a few massive flaps of the dragon's wings, they were little more than a dark shadow against the night sky.

Lydia scrambled back to her feet. "No! My Thane!"

The dragon roared somewhere high above her, but there was no answer from the Dragonborn. Lydia ran a hand through her hair in panic, pacing back and forth and trying to spot the beast against the midnight black sky.

I can't lose her, Lydia thought to herself. I swore to protect her. I have to... have to...

An idea suddenly came to her. She slung her shield over her shoulders and sprinted away across the clearing, toward a tall, thick-branched tree that had managed to survive the inferno that was engulfing the woods. She heard the dragon bellow far above once again. She kept climbing, knowing that the dragon would have to pass by her tree eventually.

She spoke the only word in the dragon language she knew. She shouted it into the sky as loud as she could as she climbed up into the branches, clambering up as high as she could go. "Dovahkiin!" she kept shouting. "I am Dovahkiin. A real dragon wouldn't run like a coward and just fly away!"

She didn't know if the dragon heard her, but seconds later it swooped down under her vantage point, soaring between the treetops. Lydia saw her chance and took it before it was too late. She shoved herself out into open air, leaping off the tree branch and plummeting down into open air. She grasped her sword in both hands, falling straight for the passing dragon. She braced herself a second before impact, then stabbed her sword deep into the dragon's scaly hide. It let out a bestial roar as Lydia was tossed and buffeted about, almost losing her grip on her sword. But the weapon served as an anchor point, giving her something to hold on to. She eventually managed to hold her grip and clamber up onto the dragon's back. She gripped the dragon's hide tightly with her thighs, solidifying her position. With a heavy wrench, she yanked her blade free and stabbed it down again, sinking the blade even deeper this time. There was another spray of dark blood that splattered Lydia's face. The woman screamed as the blood hit her skin; it burned like liquid fire and she could hear an audible sizzle, even over the roaring of the dragon.

She forced herself to fight through the pain. Duvaineth needed her, and if they didn't pull this off, they were both dead. So she blinked blood from her eyes and stabbed again. The dragon roared in agony, descending lower toward the clearing.

"My Thane!" Lydia shouted over the commotion. "Are you all right?"

"Still here!" came Duvai's response. It sounded as if she was still hanging on to the dragon's neck. "This is a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into!"

"Ag unslaad faaz!" the dragon bellowed. "Burn in eternal torment!"

"How do we bring it down?" Lydia shouted.

"Do I look like I know?" Duvai screamed back.

Lydia's mind whirled, thinking of some way they could bring it down. An arrow to the dragon's weak point would surely cripple it. Or a sword to the back of the neck, maybe. If Lydia knew how to manipulate magicka, she may have been able to freeze the dragon's wings, but-

"Wait!" she suddenly shouted. "That's it! The wings! Cut its wings!"

Every time Lydia stabbed the dragon, it flinched and lost altitude. If she could bring it low enough, they could cut the dragon's wings and rob it of its ability to fly. She yanked her blade free, taking a split-second to wipe blood from her eyes, then forced it down hard again. The dragon's massive wingbeats faltered and it plummeted down out of the sky. It pivoted in mid-air, circling around to soar close to the edge of the clearing. They were only about twenty feet off the ground.

"When I say," Lydia called, "jump off and try to cut the dragon's wings!"

"Are you crazy?!"

"We'll only be a few feet off the ground! On my mark!"

"You are crazy!"

Lydia grunted as she pulled her blade free again. Gripping tight to the dragon's scaly back, she grasped her sword in both hands and plunged it down with all her might. The dragon bucked underneath her, letting out a pained screech. It fell down again, until its talons were brushing the dirt.

"Now!" Lydia shouted. "Do it now!"

With a scream of effort, Duvai yanked her blades free and threw herself sideways, out over the dragon's massive, bat-like wing.

Time seemed to slow. Lydia watched as her Thane pivoted gracefully in mid-air, grasping her daggers tightly. The dragon's wing rushed up to meet her and she stretched out her arm in preparation. As she flew through the air, she slashed one dagger down and carved through the thin membrane that stretched along the dragon's wing. The membrane parted like water under her blade, spraying dark blood in all directions. Then she soared behind Lydia, out of sight.

The dragon almost immediately smashed into the earth, gouging a two-meter rift into the soil, and Lydia screamed as she was thrown from her perch. She tumbled to the ground, rolling head-over-heels across the clearing. She bounced hard a few times before finally rolling to a stop almost five meters from the beast. She groaned, every muscle in her body screaming. Her sword slipped from limp fingers, her arms not strong enough to grasp it any more. She could hear the dragon writhing and screaming behind her, its tail repeatedly smashing into the ground.

"My wing!" it bellowed, screeching and roaring. "My wing!"

Lydia rolled onto her back, muttering a curse. It felt like she had broken every bone in her body in the crash and she wasn't sure her knee was supposed to bend the direction it currently was bending. She let out a pained cry as she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. Even her armor protested the motion, creaking and scraping loudly as if it was in just as much pain as she was.

There was a pained cough from behind her and she heard branches crackling. She craned her head to see Duvaineth staggering out from the bushes. Her hair was knotted and tangled and strewn with leaves and twigs. She was bleeding from a sizable collection of cuts and her leather traveling armor was dirty and torn. She coughed again, wiping dirt from her eyes.

"Cut the wings," she snapped. "What a great idea, Lydia."

"You told me to bring the dragon down," Lydia groaned. Duvaineth offered her a hand, which her housecarl gratefully accepted. "I brought it down, didn't I?"

Lydia staggered on her feet, momentarily off balance as her thighs clenched up. She looked over through watering eyes to see the dragon still flailing against the ground. It was slowly clambering back to its feet, though. Lydia reached down and scooped up her sword again, then groaned and cracked her neck, ready for another round.

"Think we can take this thing now?" Duvai asked, drawing her daggers once more.

"It's still a thirty-foot, fire-breathing lizard," Lydia observed. "Just because it can't fly doesn't make us even."

"Well then, housecarl," Duvai said, wiping blood from her forehead, "let's go show this scaly sack of skeever dung what we can do."

"Yes, my Thane," Lydia replied. She pulled the straps of her shield over her arm and clenched her fist.

The dragon finally lumbered back onto its feet, digging its claws into the ground. Its wounded wing was shaking, struggling to hold the beast's weight. That was the weak point, where they'd be able to press their advantage. Lydia braced herself, scowling as the dragon shouted, "Krif dovah!"

"Go!"

Lydia charged forward, as fast as her sore legs could carry her. The dragon huffed up and roared, "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

It unleashed a blaze of fire, but Lydia had grown to anticipate that particular trick. The Shout was the key; when the dragon shouted, she had a split-second to get out of the way. So when she threw herself to the side, the bright cone of fire passed right by her. She raised her shield in time to knock aside the dragon's tail, the next threat facing her.

Duvai, meanwhile, somersaulted under the dragon's chin as it lunged forward to snap at her. She dragged her dagger down the creature's throat, carving through scale and flesh and unleashing a spray of dark blood. The dragon roared and tried to take off into the sky, but its injured wing wouldn't hold up. It staggered, almost collapsing on top of the Dragonborn. Lydia darted forward and sliced open a rift along the beast's thigh, making it's balance shake even worse.

"Get it off balance!" Lydia shouted. "We almost have it!"

Duvai continued hacking at the dragon's underside, dodging its clumsy attempts to dislodge her. She slid under one massive, taloned foot as it attempted to crush her, then sprang to her feet and stabbed her dagger deep into scaly flesh. The knife stuck there, unwilling to budge, and she was forced to abandon it. Instead, she lit a Frost spell in either hand and fired both at the dragon. Ice crystals began to instantly form over its thick skin, further slowing it down. She grimaced against the sudden frigid blast of air from the spell, but continued to pour all the Magicka at her disposal into the task.

Lydia ducked a flailing limb, slashing her sword again through the thin membrane and carving the wing to pieces. The dragon sucked in a deep breath and Lydia braced herself, ready to move. The beast threw its head out at her and roared, "YOL TOOR SHUL!" but she was already long gone. Coming up behind the dragon, she scored a deep slash along its heel, making it stumble and forcing its fire out as a result.

She suddenly heard Duvai shout something to her, but it was lost in the furious scream of the dragon between them. It almost sounded like, watch out. She backed up slightly and shouted, "What?"

A second later, Duvai took a deep breath and screamed, "FUS!"

A blast of energy erupted from her mouth, shattering the frozen-over portions of the dragon's skin. The ice shards shot up into the sky, sparkling against the flames like tiny diamonds as the dragon recoiled, blasted off its feet by the sheer force of the Shout. Lydia was similarly affected, knocked head-over-heels by the blast with a shout of surprise. With a world-shattering rumble, the dragon landed on its back, wings flailing. Lydia landed almost head-first some distance away, her sword bouncing out of her hand. Her shoulder exploded in a wash of red-hot pain and she screamed in agony.

Duvai sprinted forward before the dragon could regain its composure. She grabbed Lydia's sword from the ground and leaped up onto the giant reptile's heaving chest.

"Nid!" the dragon shouted. "No! You have bested me, dovahkiin! Spare me, and I-"

Duvaineth screamed and thrust her blade down, deep into the dragon's chest. She sank it in as far as it would go, until the handguard pressed into the dragon's skin. Then she twisted the blade, yanked it free, and stabbed again. And again.

The dragon's wings spasmed wildly, its legs kicking out and carving deep trenches in the ground. An unearthly, warbling scream burbled up out of its throat as blood began to pour from its chest. It writhed and tried to escape, but Duvai's footing was secure and she wouldn't budge. She stabbed again and again, blood flowing in rivulets between the dragon's thick scales. In moments, its entire chest was gushing red.

Lydia slowly pushed herself into a seated position, watching as Duvai continued hacking away at the dragon. Eventually, stinging hot blood was coating her body and face and the dragon wasn't moving any more. Its spiked head was slumped to the side, staring at Lydia with cold, dead, reptilian eyes.

"My Thane," she said slowly. When she tried to get to her feet, her shoulder spasmed and sent another wash of pain through her body. She clutched her arm and forced herself to focus. "My Thane!"

Duvai finally looked up through blood-stained eyes. Lydia grimaced against the pain and called, "I think it's dead."

The Dragonborn looked down at the dragon carcass under her feet, then dropped Lydia's sword and staggered away. She took several slow steps back, stumbling as she fell off the beast's scaly chest. Once on solid ground again, she staggered away toward the trees and let out a strangled moan. Lydia watched her go and muttered, "Shor's bones..."

She fought to rise to her feet, grabbing her shoulder. She suspected it was dislocated, as it was hanging limp at her side, but her Thane needed her. She could fix her arm later. She limped after the woman and called, "My Thane? Duvaineth?"

She heard a strange gasping noise from just past the treeline. She quickened her pace and stepped into the trees, squinting against the darkness in search of the Dragonborn. The flickering light from the flames behind them illuminated the surrounding forest enough that she could just make out her surroundings.

Her Thane was on her hands and knees, her back to the flaming forest clearing. Her armor was torn and smoking filthy, the thick leather soaked with scalding dragon's blood. Lydia was about to speak when the woman suddenly arched her back and vomited. Lydia winced and waited for a more appropriate moment to speak. Duvai bit back a groan, then vomited again.

It was a few minutes before she finally seemed to get herself under control. She took a shaky breath and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her arms were shaking as she struggled to rise to her feet again. She leaned back onto her knees and shouted, "Fuck!"

She fell forward again and began sobbing uncontrollably. Lydia hesitated, then rested her uninjured hand on the woman's shoulder, a comforting motion. The dragon blood was still sizzling away, the woman's armor hot to the touch. The half-elf continued crying, gasping, "I hate that! I'm... I'm not a killer... I can't do this!"

"You can," Lydia said gently. "You had to kill it. You had no choice. It was a monster."

"That creature wasn't some mindless animal. It could talk. It could think and feel and..."

She shook her head sharply. "There is always a choice."

"Not always," Lydia insisted. "Tonight, you learned that the hard way."

The words obviously did not comfort her Thane, for the woman burst into tears again. Lydia hesitated, then sighed and said, "Duvai, that dragon would have killed you without a second thought. I know you were raised to worship the natural world, but these dragons are going to burn it all. You know that."

Duvai gave her a shaky nod, wiping hot blood from her eyes. Lydia squeezed her shoulder and continued, "I can't kill these things. At least not for good. You're the only one who can ensure they stay dead. I know you may not want to kill these things, but you have to. You said yourself that you would do whatever it takes."

She moved around, limping only slightly, and knelt in front of her Thane. "Duvaineth, look at me."

The half-elf sniffed, but listened intently. Lydia held her gaze and said, "You asked me earlier what I thought of you. Here's the whole truth: you frighten me, like I said. But you also amaze me, Duvai. You are no child of Skyrim. This isn't your land. But you're fighting for us all the same. When the Jarl called for your aid, you were there to serve even though you had no reason to. When that first dragon attacked Whiterun, you were there standing with the best of us. When the Jarl told you that your destiny was to save Skyrim from the dragons, you accepted the challenge without question."

Lydia slowly stood, offering her a hand. "More than the power of the Voice, more than your dragon's blood... that is why I think you will save Skyrim. Your dedication. Your loyalty. You are the hero we have been praying for. I see that now. And I will be there for you, any time you need me."

Duvai stared at Lydia for a few moments, then slowly accepted her hand. Lydia hauled her to her feet, then went stiff when the Dragonborn pulled her into a tight, desperate hug. She didn't know what to do at first, and the motion put even more strain on her dislocated shoulder. But she eventually relaxed and hugged Duvai back, knowing that her Thane needed this comfort more than anything else right now.

Duvaineth eventually stepped back, tears streaming down her bloodstained cheeks. She smiled weakly and said, "Thank you, Lydia. I... just, thank you."

Lydia bowed her head, resting a fist against her steel breastplate in salute. "You're welcome, my Thane. It is my duty, as your housecarl... and your friend."

There was suddenly a deep rumble on the air, loud enough to make both Lydia and Duvai flinch. Lydia took a few startled steps back as a bright, multicolored fog began to twist and undulate through the trees. There was a loud rushing sound, like water over the falls back in Whiterun. She let out a startled shout as the mist rushed through the forest and engulfed her, bathing her in a warm current of air.

Like sinking into a warm bath, she thought, closing her eyes and relishing the sensation. Just like Duvai said.

Then the feeling passed and Lydia opened her eyes to see the shimmering rainbow mist envelop Duvai, bathing her in a bright vortex of colors as it spun and rushed around her. Duvai stretched out her arms, watching the mist twist across her hands and dance through her fingers. The vortex soon began to shrink around the woman, growing smaller and smaller. It was eventually rushing around her arms and legs like some obscure form of ancient Magicka, the colors so bright it hurt Lydia's eyes and temporarily obscured the Dragonborn from view. Then it rushed into her body, fading from sight and leaving Duvaineth standing alone. A subtle gold light seemed to radiate from her body in slow pulses. After a time, that faded as well. The Dragonborn was left breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut, hands clenched into shaking fists. She made no motion to speak or move.

Lydia narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to say something or leave the woman alone. A dragon was one matter. A shattered and terrified Thane was another. But this was very ancient Magicka, something that Lydia had no right to interfere with. So she took a step back, just in case, and waited patiently.

It was a few long seconds before Duvai let out a sudden gasp and her eyes flew open. Her entire body was shivering and her breath was coming in short huffs of air. She stayed like this for a few moments more before she let out a sigh and her body slowly relaxed. She closed her eyes again and took a few deep breaths.

"My Thane?" Lydia slowly ventured. "Are... are you all right?"

"Fine," Duvaineth said. "I'm fire now."

She looked down at her shaking hands, then clenched them into fists. Her face pulled down into a mask of grim determination. To Lydia's eyes, it almost seemed like she was somehow... stronger than before. Like some of the dragon's power had rubbed off on the woman. And considering who Lydia was dealing with, that was actually very probable.

Two dragons down, she thought to herself. Only a thousand more to go.

"I'm fine," the half-elf repeated. Her voice was level, calm, and no longer shaking. "Let's get the hell out of here."

To be continued...

---

Author's Note: So, what did everyone think? Leave a comment/review if you enjoyed it and let me know about any questions or things you may want to see in the next chapter. I'll work triple-overtime to get the next part written. Until then, happy reading!