Hey, y'all! I decided to start a new story in the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim universe! This will start out as an adventure with a tad bit of romance, though other genres will eventually be added at my discretion. Some stories will be original; others will include canon events from the game and its DLC. Some mods from creators will be included, and though it's not necessary, I suggest you check them out to stay as caught up as possible. You are not obligated to download them; it's your choice. Full recognition for these original works of art will be provided. Also, this is only a side project while my Commonwealth Hunters story for Fallout 4 is under a period of writer's block and a few issues have arisen with fellow authors, and I want to make sure I do it right. As always, Until the sun sets again.

Chapter 1 – The Lost and The Found

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Iona walked the streets of Riften, her hand lightly resting atop her war axe. She knew the dangers of her city, especially the Thieves Guild and Maven Black-briar. Cross one, and you cross them both, usually ending up with no money to your name or a dagger in your back, and that's if you're lucky. Iona, however, had to be especially cautious, as she was protecting a powerful ally of them both. Arnor, Thane of Riften and Guild Master of the Thieves Guild. Close friend of Maven Black-briar and the best thief North of the Jerall Mountains. Of course, she wasn't supposed to know the part about him being a thief and member of the Thieves Guild, but accidents happen.

Iona was brought out of her reverie by a group of children running between her and her charge. Arnor was currently at Balimund's forge, wearing a blacksmith's apron with the sleeves rolled up and buttons open. He was hammering away at a glowing chunk of metal. He had been at this for hours, smithing dozens of arrows from a special steel he had created the day before, the recipe for which he had stated had been passed down for generations in his village where he had grown up. The barbed design and stronger steel provided the arrows with a point sharper than any in Skyrim save for Eorlund Gray-mane's. He used the same custom steel for his weapons, which were placed reverently in a nearby corner, and for his armor, piled nearby.

She watched him for a moment, admiring his form as he worked. Sweat ran down his body in rivers from the heat of the warm summer weather and the burning forge. The cloth of his tunic clung tightly to his large arms and toned chest. His nearly shoulder-length auburn hair stuck to back of his neck, which glistened from the sweat, and his mismatched green and amber eyes were shining from the flames in the forge. The grin on his face was contagious, and she soon found herself copying his expression. How he found joy in this excruciating job eluded her, but who was she to complain when she had this amazing specimen to watch?

Arnor looked up and noticed something from behind Iona. His grin vaporized as quickly as his sweat hitting the embers of the fire in front of him. Iona caught movement in the corner of her eye and saw Maven Black-Briar herself approaching them from her manor on the opposite side of the plaza. Iona stiffened and removed her hand from her axe. Better safe than sorry. Arnor, however, looked back down at his job and took the arrow mold from atop the anvil nearby and placed the now flattened steel into place before settling the top over it. With several swings of his hammer, the arrowheads were formed and split apart from the glowing remains which he dropped into a bucket and the heads themselves into the nearby water trough to let them cool. Only then did he look around to face Maven, who had stopped beside him moments before.

Iona felt her body tense up. Only Arnor could ignore Maven for so long, and she still feared for his well-being when he did so, no matter his relationship with the matriarch of the Black-briar clan. "How can I help you, Maven?" she heard Arnor ask nonchalantly, his rolling Nordic voice sending jitters of pleasure down Iona's spine. She watched as the two conversed quietly for several minutes before Arnor slumped in defeat. Iona stalked towards them, taking care not to draw attention to herself.

"Arnor, you deserve this, especially after helping Ingun last winter and expanding the meadery to Whiterun in the spring, not to mention that business with Mercer earlier this summer." Maven was beginning to lose her patience, and was motioning wildly with her hands. "Whether you approve of it or not, it's still happening and it still needs a name!"

"But I don't deserve this!" responded Arnor desperately. "I already received my pay for those ingredients from Ingun! You already paid me in full for my aid in Honningbrew Meadery! Killing Mercer was payment in and of itself! There is no reason for this!"

"Oh, Divines damn it, just pick a fucking name already, Arnor. This is happening whether you want it to or not."

Arnor sighed and leaned back against the wall and thought for a moment. "Fine. How about Blackthorn?"

"Blackthorn?" Maven paused. "I like the sound of it, but why that?"

Arnor smirked. "In honor of the Black-Briar family's benevolence, of course."

Maven scowled at Arnor. "I forgot how persuasive you are. You can be a real bastard sometimes," she said as she turned and walked away.

"You can thank my father for that," Arnor called out as Maven entered her home. He smirked and returned to his work at the forge. He looked up and noticed Iona standing close by. "What is it, Iona? Something wrong?" he asked as he straightened up, fingers twitching for his weapons.

She shook her head slightly and focused on the task at hand. "No, nothing. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right over here. I saw Maven talking with you and wanted to make sure you didn't end the day in a jail cell or a grave."

"Ha, as if that would ever happen," Arnor laughed out. "She likes me too much to get rid of me."

Iona shook her head, chuckling. "Whatever you say, my Thane."

"Believe whatever you want, Iona. Now, I need your help with something. Could you get me some firewood? I need about a dozen logs." Arnor scooped out the arrowheads from the cooling trough and dropped them into a leather sack, already bulging with unsharpened arrowheads.

"How many arrows are you making?" she asked incredulously as she approached the pile of logs and started picking them up one by one.

"Well, I'm hoping to get around five hundred arrows from today's efforts, but I won't be able to complete them until that shipment of eagle feathers comes in. That won't be for another few days, though, so I have plenty of time to take care of a few other things in the city."

"I don't see why you don't have someone else do this for you. That way, we could be out exploring while the arrows are finished."

"I'm not about to give my village's steel or weapons to just anyone, Iona. It belongs to my culture. We created it, we sell what we want," he finished, his mood darkening.

Iona gave up trying to argue the point. She recognized the futility of arguing with Arnor and once the topic of his village was brought up, the dark memories would be too much for him. Of course, good times last only so long.

As she walked back to Arnor at Balimund's forge, her arms filled with logs, she noticed the smith himself leaving his home. "Arnor! How are you, my friend?"

"Just fine, Balimund. I finished forging some arrowheads, so it's all yours again."

"As always, your timing is impeccable. Now, if only you would teach me your metallurgy tricks, I think we could call it even," Balimund boomed out with a laugh.

"Sorry, old friend, I still can't tell you. There was only one other person who could have told you the secret and they're not sharing any time soon."

"What happened to them?" Balimund asked, a light shining in his eyes. Iona could tell where this was going.

"The same thing I saw happen to the rest of Amdu'ul. Burned to the ground." Arnor finished filling the sack with arrowheads and harshly tightened the string on top. Balimund and Iona froze in their tracks, eyes wide. That was not how Iona had expected the conversation to go. She tended to forget how horrifying Arnor's past was, as he so rarely spoke about it with anyone.

None of them noticed Mjoll marching towards Arnor until she shouldered Iona out of her way. "What the f-?" Iona recognized the movement and was about to call out to her Thane but she was too late. Mjoll grabbed Arnor's left shoulder and spun him around. With a yell, she launched her right fist into his nose, sending him sprawling against the wall. He collapsed to the ground unconscious, and everyone stood still for a moment. Suddenly, everything snapped back into place. With a yell, Iona readied her axe and raised her shield. She charged forward, axe raised high, poised to defend her friend.

"Stop!" Aerin tore in front of Iona and raised his hands in surrender. Iona planted her feet and stared down the small Imperial, axe still at the ready. He turned back to Mjoll. "Mjoll! What in Oblivion was that?!"

Mjoll turned to Aerin. "He was there, Aerin! He said he was there at Amdu'ul!"

"What!?" yelled Iona, now flanked by city guards, weapons drawn and aimed at Mjoll. "What is Amdu'ul?"

"My village! It was raided by bandits when I was a child!"

"Mjoll!" Aerin was furious. Iona had never seen him raise his voice at anyone before and here he was screaming down the Lioness of Riften. "He never said he was attacking it! He could have been helping defend it!"

"There was no help! We were left on our own! Everyone was killed in the Great Hall after they rounded them up and tied them together!" Behind her, Arnor stirred and opened his eyes. "I was able to escape because my friend cut my bonds and fought for my life…"

Mjoll was slowing now, tears running down her face. "He was killed in front of me, I will never forget the look of pain on his face as he…as he…" Mjoll collapsed to her knees, sobs wracking her body. "We were supposed to…watch each other's backs…he was taken from me…a werewolf tore out…his throat…"

She felt gentle arms wrap around her shoulders and she wrapped her arms around her comforter. "Mjoll," a strange voice called. She tensed. Arnor's voice. Rage built up inside her again. She lashed out with her fists, but they were caught easily by his large hands. "Mjoll, look at me," he said calmly.

"No! I will not listen to you! You murderer!" Mjoll twisted to get out of his grip, head still lowered. With a grunt, Arnor moved both her wrists to his right hand and wrapped his left around the back of her neck soothingly, his fingers tangling in her soft golden hair. She struggled more intensely, but to no avail.

"Mjoll, who am I?" Arnor asked again. Iona wondered how he kept so calm during this confrontation.

"You're a killer! You're a liar! You stole my love from me!"

"Mjoll, look into my eyes." She kept struggling, trying to rip her hands from Arnor's steel grip. "Mjoll, please, look into my eyes and tell me who I am and I swear I will let you do whatever you wish to me, no matter who you decide I am."

Mjoll instantly stilled her movements. Slowly, she looked up into Arnor's eyes. His left green eye was shining brightly in the setting sun, his right amber eye reflected the embers of the forge nearby, glowing orange from the dying coals. The small scar from a dagger on his right cheek flickered in the light of the flames. Dark circles from many sleepless nights darkened the underside of his eyes, and the occasional freckle drew attention for half a second. Mjoll stared intently into his eyes, her gaze accented by an angry scowl, doubtful she would find anything to her liking. Suddenly, she gasped. She raised her hands, mysteriously free from his grasp, and cupped his face gently. "Arnor…?"

She trailed her hands from his face down to his tunic and gently grasped the laces. Pulling back the fabric, she stopped. She grazed her fingers over the ugly scar that reached from his right collarbone to his sternum. The tell-tale marks of a werewolf's jaws marred the skin. Mjoll bit back a sob that threatened to escape from her throat. She looked back up into Arnor's eyes and smiled. "Arnor, where were you?" She threw herself forward onto him, nearly sending them both to the ground. She wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged tightly, in fear that he might disappear out from under her. Sobs sent tremors down her form, shaking her from her head to her boots. "I thought you had died." Tears escaped from her bright blue eyes and dropped onto Arnor's shoulder.

Arnor smiled lightly and drew Mjoll closer to him, bringing her practically onto his lap, armor and all. "Hey, I'm here now. I'm here and I don't plan on dying anytime soon." Arnor closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of the warm embrace.

Iona wiped her eyes discretely. She didn't want to be seen crying, especially in the presence of her Thane. She looked around and noticed the crowd they had attracted, citizens and city guards alike. Near the back, she could have sworn she saw Delvin's balding head glinting in the sun. Iona turned back to her Thane and knelt down beside him. "Thane Arnor, we should get off the streets. We've got quite an audience and I doubt you and Mjoll will like the attention."

Arnor nodded and opened his eyes before rubbing the back of Mjoll's neck soothingly. "Mjoll, we should go. We can all go to my house and finish talking there. I agree with Iona, there are too many people here."

He heard a grunt of agreement and helped Mjoll to her feet after a bit of awkward footing and last-second sobs. When Arnor looked into her face, he saw tear-stained cheeks and a genuine smile that reached her eyes. With a grin, he led her by the hand from the forge and down the alley toward his home, Aerin in tow. Thinking for her Thane, Iona retrieved his weapons and armor and carried them along with her to Arnor's house. Once she stepped inside several minutes later, she paused at the sight before her.

There, in the middle of the room, Arnor and Mjoll were standing in an embrace, with Aerin leaning against the wall awkwardly. A closer look revealed fresh tears were flowing down Arnor and Mjoll's faces and their mouths were slowly moving in a whispered conversation. Iona stepped down the stairs and placed Arnor's armor on a mannequin and his weapons on the racks nearby. The sack full of arrowheads she dropped into a chest which held a pile of the ingots Arnor had been using all day.

She climbed the stairs and found the two warriors unmoved from their position. She approached Aerin and whispered, "How long have they been like this?"

"Since they first got in here," he replied in a hushed tone. Iona joined him in leaning against the wall. "I have no idea what they're saying to each other, but I'm not about to intrude." Iona nodded in understanding. After years of being separated from each other, the two deserved their time together.

After several moments, Arnor and Mjoll finally separated, and pulled up two chairs to the fire before sitting down. Following the unsaid order, Iona fetched two more and sat down in one, offering the last to Aerin. Once everyone was seated, Arnor turned towards them and Arnor addressed the housecarl and friend of the fighters. "Mjoll and I have decided that we're going to combine our efforts in something I've been working towards for the last several years, seeing as we both share a common goal."

"Which would be…?" asked Aerin, turning toward Mjoll.

"Vengeance," the Lioness said simply.

Both Iona and Aerin froze. Never before had their charges so much had discussed the idea around them, even mentioned their past well enough for them to consider it. Iona only knew Arnor's village had been destroyed and he never said the name until today, and Aerin shared that sentiment.

Arnor decided to take the reins. "Mjoll and I lived in a village to the northeast, near the border of Skyrim and Morrowind. Ten years ago, it was attacked by a large group of bandits, four of five dozen in total. The guards were able to hold them off for a while, but eventually they broke through the walls. We don't know why they chose our town, but within an hour, all the guards were dead, including Mjoll's mother, who was the captain of the guard at the time, and my father, who was our chief. They rounded everyone up and put us in the Great Hall, which they proceeded to burn to the ground.

"I was able to get myself and Mjoll free before they saw us. I took most of them down with my father's sword which hung over the head table, but one was a werewolf. I pushed Mjoll out through an open window and that's when he pounced on me. After a fight, which gave me this scar," Arnor stopped his story long enough to open his tunic and revealed the scar Mjoll had inspected before, "I was able to pierce his heart with my father's sword. His blood poured into my wound and…I…I transformed."

All three members of his audience heightened their attention. "You transformed?" asked Mjoll. "What do you mean…?" The way she asked proved she knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Arnor.

Arnor sighed before continuing. "I turned into a werebear," he said simply.

Silence filled the room. No one dared breathe lest they awaken the beast lying inside Arnor. After what seemed like an eternity, Mjoll reached out and placed her hand gently on Arnor's shoulder. "It's all right, we'll find a way to cure you."

Arnor pulled away from her grip. "No, I don't want to be cured. At least…not anymore."

Mjoll's gaze hardened. "What? Why wouldn't you want to be cured of that disease?"

Arnor looked up into her eyes with a steely determination. "Because I've come to love this power. At first, I feared it, I hated it, because of what I could do to others if I lost control. Then, when I learned I had total domination over it, I hated what it had done to me." He looked down to the floor, in shame and embarrassment. "Only a few years ago did I accept this gift I have. The strength, speed, and cunning have all helped me, even when I am not in my bear form. The only thing that troubles me is the fact that a wolf turned me into a bear. I've read all the scrolls, all the books I could find, and they all say it's impossible. A wolf turns a wolf and a bear turns a bear. It's as simple as that. The only possible reason I can come up with is that my father was a werebear before I was born, and the beast blood was dormant inside me, waiting for a catalyst. That spark came from the bandit's blood."

Everyone in the room stared at the man in front of them. Even Iona could not help but question her Thane's sanity when he confessed to loving his power. Iona spoke up, albeit quietly. "When you said you have complete control over it, how is that possible?"

Arnor looked up to her and answered as truthfully as he could. "Werewolves and werebears are not the 'transform only during the full moon' beasts people believe them to be. We are strengthened by the full moon, and some lose control of their blood should they transform during its effects, especially werebears, with our more potent blood, but we are not limited to how often we can transform by that much. The only limitation we have is that we can transform once a day, after the moon itself has passed over us."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Aerin interrupted. "You're saying werewolves can transform once a day?!"

"Yes, though there is a powerful Daedric artifact that can grant an additional transformation, allowing the wielder to change twice a day."

"There is?" all said in unison.

"What is it?" asked Mjoll.

Arnor raised his hand, palm facing away from them, to reveal a silver ring with a wolf's head on it. "This. The Ring of Hircine. I saved Sinding from Hircine's Hunt, rather than kill him, and Hircine gave this to me as a gift for the entertainment."

"Sinding? He's alive?" asked Mjoll, ecstatic with joy from the newest revelation, and shocked that Arnor would ally himself with a Daedric prince.

Arnor grimaced. "Yes, he is. He was one of the survivors from the attack and moved to Falkreath, but I'll get to that in a minute. He stole the ring, and Sinding cursed it to force him to transform at random, and lose all control of his blood. As a result, he killed a young girl, and was put in the Falkreath prison, which is where I found him. He wanted to be rid of the ring, so I willingly took it until Hircine removed the curse after the Hunt. Since then, I have used the ring rarely, as I only transform in the direst of circumstances."

Mjoll stared at Arnor, pride and fear evident on her face. Never before had she met someone as brave and foolhardy as he had been, even before the attack on their village. Now, however, it seemed he had become almost reckless.

Mjoll stared down at her hands, covered in the blood of so many enemies over the years, and wondered how Arnor's must be like. 'What has his life been like? How many has he killed in the last ten years? Who has he become?'

"So…why would you want vengeance?" asked Aerin.

Arnor's expression hardened, his brow furrowed. "Because of what they did to our village. Our families. Our lives. They burned everything to the ground. They killed almost everyone. The survivors spread across Skyrim, Cyrodiil, and Morrowind. There were nearly two hundred villagers in our town, and only about twenty survived. I've tracked most of the remaining bandits down and killed them. I became a bounty hunter when I reached twenty years of age, and I have used that to my advantage. Most of them already had bounties, so it was a simple job of finding them. The rest were easy, even if they were upstanding members of society. I'll have to tell you all about it sometime later, as each success was a long story.

Though now, it seems the last few have returned to Skyrim, which is why I came back from my travels. Four are leading their own bandit camps dotted across Skyrim, two are in a vampire coven somewhere near Solitude, another is a housecarl for a Jarl, and two others are somewhere in Skyrim, though I don't know where. I'll just cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose."

Iona and Aerin shared a glance before nodding. "How can we help?" asked Iona.

Arnor sighed. "I knew you'd ask that, Iona. I want you to stay here and protect Maven when I'm not around. If word gets out that I'm hunting them down, the bandits might try to get to me through the people I care about." Iona nodded in approval.

Mjoll tensed when Arnor mentioned the Black-Briar matron. "You know Maven Black-Briar?"

Arnor looked to Mjoll in defiance. "Yes, she's a dear friend to me. I know she works with the Thieves Guild, and I don't care."

"How can you not care?! They've ruined lives! They're as bad as the bandits that destroyed our village!"

"Mjoll, that's not fair and you know it. We do not kill others. We stopped stealing from citizens last year, and it's helped our business in the long run."

Mjoll narrowed her eyes and she knew she struck gold. "What do you mean by 'We?'"

Arnor's eyes widened in shock when he realized what he'd said. Then they matched Mjoll's. "I am the Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, freshly chosen earlier this summer. We now steal from corrupt bureaucrats and ensure killers and those who do ruin others' lives are punished. We then take their valuables before they are distributed randomly between the city guards. We donate to certain people who need it, but other than that, we keep most of it to ourselves. I developed my skills rather early on, if you'll remember correctly. Especially when we wanted to find a broom cupboard to escape to for an hour or two while in our teenage years."

Mjoll blushed at the memories from her childhood. "Yes, I remember well enough, Bear," she murmured with a smirk.

"Bear?" asked Iona wondrously.

This time, it was Arnor's turn to blush. With a manic grin, Mjoll explained, "Yes, it was my name for him while we were in our village. Arnor and I were…well, we weren't betrothed, but our parents were seriously considering it."

"Wait, you two were an item?" Iona exclaimed.

"Yes, we were. I called him 'Bear' because he was well-built, even back then. That and he was my favorite pillow when I had a nightmare," Mjoll finished with a gentle smile in Arnor's direction.

Arnor glanced outside, and noticed the stars had already risen above the horizon. He saw the opportunity to escape the awkward conversation and took it in both hands. "Well, then," he said as he stood and clapped his hands together, startling everyone. "On that thought, I think it's time we went our separate ways for the night. I should meet with a few people about what transpired this evening. You, Mjoll, as well as Aerin, should get some rest. I say we rest up for now and meet here tomorrow an hour past sunrise."

"All right, sounds good to me," said Aerin as he and Mjoll got to their feet and he started walking to the door. He looked back to see Mjoll still standing in front of her chair, considering something. "Mjoll? Are you coming?"

Arnor looked to her expectantly. Mjoll shocked everyone when she turned and placed a gentle kiss on Arnor's cheek. "I'm glad to have you back, Bear."

Arnor's face cracked into a grin. "I'm glad to have you back, too, Mjoll." With a nod, she left his house and closed the door behind her.

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Mods mentioned in this story so far:

Blackthorn – A Buildable Town in The Rift

Author: LD50365

Valiant Nord Bow

Author: corvalho1

Berserk Judeau Armor Mod

Author: Gimora

Ported to Xbox One by: TFBO

Isilmeriel's LOTR Weapons

Author: isilmeriel