Archus didn't think much of himself, but his feats were many and his reputation had spread far and wide. From the halls of the Blue Palace of Solitude, to the East Empire Company of Wyrmstooth. He'd made a name for himself alright... Dragonborn. Boatloads of gold followed. But it wasn't all achieved on his own.
From the humble beginnings of a hunter, hunter being a modest term for scavenger, he was now donned in a new suit of steel plate armour that he had smithed himself, from the iron he mined himself. Despite his relative fame and fortune, he couldn't stop himself from shaking off the necessity to remain hands-on with his work, including mining his own ore, chopping his own wood, and adventuring alone. "Adventuring alone..." he thought to himself, as he placed his left hand on his sword. He never used it often, preferring the art of conjuring bound short swords that he had learned from the court wizard in Whiterun. But there was a reason he kept it with him.
His thoughts returned to Borgakh the Steel Heart, and Orcish warrior he had met during his time in the reach. He thought of the time he met her, he was starved and thirsty. Only through a good deed he had done for another Orcish stronghold, did this one allow him entry. It was raining. His rusty banded iron armour, his first set of armour he wore during the early days of his adventuring life, clanked over his thin body. By then, he still hadn't fully recovered from the bandits who had attacked him and left him for dead just outside of Falkreath.
The Orcs tended to Archus, a nord, an outsider. He thought it was only right he paid for his food and water with the gold he had earned chopping wood in Falkreath. A day had passed and he noticed a large warrior taking swings at a humanoid wooden target. His form was perfect, and Archus wanted to learn more. He needed to learn from this warrior were he to become a more formidable opponent to his enemies.
He mustered up the courage to approach the warrior. "A woman!?" he thought, as she turned to greet the outsider. Pleasantries, if that is the correct description for a typical Orcish greeting, were exchanged, and there it was – the regret in her eyes.
"Soon I am to become of age, and I have never left the stronghold."
"You could come with me... I am headed for Solitude." he was confident, if not hopeful.
"I can't leave the stronghold without marriage, I would be a disgrace to my people. A deserter."
The rest was hazy. He remembered brawling with the Orcish chieftain, traditionally a practice held to determine whether or not an outsider was worthy of the chief's respect. Shortly thereafter, Borgakh the Steel Heart, donned in full Orcish armour, shield, and sword of immaculate craftsmanship, left the stronghold with Archus. Travelling for the sake of travelling.
Their travels took them past Solitude and South to Whiterun, where the Dragon attacked. That's when everything changed.
Borgakh accompanied him wherever he went, she'd sworn fielty to him. She joined him when he was a scrawny adventurer, but he became a warrior. The Dragonborn. Not without her help, he went from being less her match, a means by which she could travel Skyrim... to her inspiration. A powerful warrior with both a sword and a shield, and in magic – though mundane magic at that.
And now she lay dead. A tear streamed down Archus' face. He thought back to a more recent memory.
Vulthurkrah, a powerful dragon they had followed into Wyrmstooth, had lured them into a trap. He had awakened an army of the dead, the bodies of all those adventurers he had coaxed into following him, springing to life. A bloodlust in their eyes, they glared at the Dragonborn and Steel Heart, brandishing their weapons and starting their approach. An intense battle ensued. Twenty to thirty fully armed corpses trying to take the lives of the two warriors to appease their ancient overlord. That was when she fell.
They had tried to make a break for the exit, Borgakh went first. Archus remained behind, dispersing the crowd with his thu'um to buy them time. And then he made a dash for the exit. He summoned another ancient power, the Whirlwind Sprint, and coasted past Borgakh in a flash. That was when he saw it. One of the undead warriors unleashed an arrow that pierced her through the thigh. She winced and collapsed.
Archus turned and made a dash for her, to give her a chance to get up and escape. A Nord stepped out in front of her and bashed him with his iron shield. Archus stumbled, "Shor's bones" he muttered, spitting out blood as he gained his balance and summoned all his strength to swing his conjured bound sword down on the Nord. His target sidestepped and swung his rusty iron war axe, swiftly blocked by Archus' Viking heavy shield. Blow after blow exchanged until the Nord's shield arm gave away and he fell to his knees. Archus bashed him with his shield and the Nord fell face first into the dirt, still. He was too late.
The Dragonborn's eyes looked up in search of Borgakh who had been overrun by the ancient dead. He summoned his thu'um once more to disperse the crowd until his eyes found her. She was standing, but her arms limp, her eyes clear and her jaw dropped down. An ancient Nord short sword glistening red with her blood, impaled from her spine through her stomach.
Archus didn't think much of himself, and he travelled alone for a reason. That reason was he couldn't let harm come to any of those that wanted follow him. Borgakh had been a mentor and a friend, a fierce warrior who pulled him out of countless troubles against man and monster alike. His world had collapsed when he pulled the sword out of her body, the sword he now keeps as a reminder of his failure.
He wiped the tears from his cheeks, looked out to the Horizon and smiled at what he had told the Steel Heart's Chief – that it had taken an army of the undead to still her soul. He knew his bond with the Orcish people ran deep, that they regarded him bloodkin. He hoped that one day the Nords would feel that way about the Elves. He did, after all, owe his own strength to the Orcs. And the survival of Skyrim will one day be owed to the Dragonborn.
Archus had a long way to go before he would reach the Throat of the World once more. But first, the summons from Falk Firebeard regarding the ever pressing concerns of the cult of Potema... Nevertheless, Borgakh the Steel Heart's memory gave him the strength to continue.