The door to the Sleeping Giant Inn swung open, revealing a hooded man, his shoulders and head lightly dusted with snow. The man strolled to the nearest table, swinging his leg over the bench, sitting down next to a Nord with long braids, and a scarred face.
"Took you long enough, Edvind." Said the braided Nord. Edvind scoffed, pulling back his hood, throwing his face into detail. It was weathered and beaten, a traveler's face. A tattoo was emblazoned on his right cheek, an ancient Nordic symbol, that even Edvind himself didn't know the meaning of. His hair was once a light brown, but was now graying prematurely.
"Well, I was held up by a few bandits." The braided Nord raised an eyebrow expectantly. Edvind scoffed.
"Oh, come on, Aaron. They were foolish to cross me. They shall reach Sovngarde sooner than they originally thought, perhaps." He held up a hand, swigging from his cup. Aaron chuckled. "Always the strapping warrior, eh?" Edvind raised his cup, nodding. Aaron shook his head.
"Me, I'm more worried about them dragons than bandits." Edvind shot an incredulous glance at the man.
"Dragons? Pah. Fairy tales, spun by children. They've got nothing on this damn war." Aaron finished his cup, and raised his hand, motioning to the barmaid. She walked over, leaning in close.
"Another one, Aaron? You're going to be too drunk to make it back home at this rate." Aaron huffed. "I got the Septims, you supply the mead, Delphine. It's that simple." Delphine took his cup, smirking. For a woman in her fifties, she was still quite beautiful, and both men were eyeing her appraisingly.
"Just making small talk. Did I hear you talking about dragons?" Edvind coughed, and pointed at Aaron.
"Actually, Aaron here was the one quaking in his hides about those old relics. Me, I'm more concerned about the war." Delphine raised an eyebrow.
"You? Mighty Edvind worried about some war? Since when have you been worried about anything? Last I checked, you went from town to town saving damsels in distress." Edvind grinned.
"Those days have passed me by, I'm afraid." Delphine rose, and crossed her arms.
"Well, I'm expecting someone, a young woman from Cyrodiil." She leaned in to whisper in Aaron's ear. "She's rumored to be Dragonborn, you know."
Aaron spun around, squinting at the middle-aged woman.
"And how exactly did you get acquainted with her?" Delphine laughed.
"I've already told you too much. Here, take some more mead, maybe you'll forget. It's on me." With that, she strode back to the bar, leaving the two Nords to themselves once more. Edvind wistfully watched her go.
"Mighty fine woman, Delphine. Don't get Bretons like that often. I have a hunch she's good with a sword, too." Aaron sighed. "I guess we'll just never know." They sat in silence for a few moments, warming themselves in the glow of the fire, listening to Sven sing about days come and gone. Edvind took a deep breath, and a long drink.
The door swung open, a chill suddenly filling the room. The two men turned towards the doorway. A girl, barely twenty by the looks of her, walked in, cautiously glancing at each occupant of the firelit hall. Edvind watched her approach the bar nervously, as Delphine took her by the arm, and led her towards the back room. He chuckled.
"That kid ain't gonna last a day out here." Aaron tilted his head, and winked.
"You never know. Maybe she really is Dragonborn. Maybe she can pull people apart with her voice, and all that. Someone's go to do it."
Edvind threw back his head, wincing. "Better her than me." Aaron shook his head.
"It's a crazy thing, this talk of dragons."