Warpath
Chapter 1: Before a Storm
By: Deadsomeone
Disclaimer: All I own is a couple books, and an old computer. Everything else belongs to Bethesda.
Bruniik-Jun woke just as the first glimmer of sunlight appeared on the horizon and turned the sky into an enormous mixture of red, orange and purple as if the world were aflame. He continued to sit and watch from his seat on the Throat of the World as the sun continued to rise and drive away the murky morning fogs from the marshes of The Rift.
It had become a persistent habit of his to return to the peak whenever his travels brought him near it, especially since the end of the civil war. He found that even though the war had ended and he'd averted Alduin's plan to end the world, conflict still seemed to find a way to worm its way into his life, and it was quickly changing from an entertaining hobby into an aggravating annoyance.
The main two reasons had just as much to do with him as it had to do with those he cared for. Ever since he'd defeated Alduin and truly come into power as the Dovahkiin, Bruniik felt his abilities in battle made any conflict he came into almost laughably easy. He rarely even used his Thu'um anymore, saving that for whenever an upstart dragon decided to test their mettle against him. But even so, the Dovahkiin rarely felt challenged anymore, especially since the high elves had left Skyrim in search of greener pastures to conquer.
Standing up, Bruniik couldn't help but sigh; at least Lydia would stop bothering him about disappearing for weeks on end now that he had more time to stay at home. This also meant he could spend more time with Joanna, and that was always worth any tongue-lashing that Lydia gave him.
"Maybe I should bring her a gift," he wondered aloud with a mirth in his voice that few people ever heard. As he walked towards High Hrothgar, he waved a farewell to Paarthurnax as the dragon began his daily meditation.
,.,.,.,.,
Even as the Dovahkiin walked away, Paarthurnax could not help but feel the same wonder he felt every time that Bruniik-Jun left after one of his short visits to meditate. The man's resilience had been incredible when Paarthurnax first met him, and even more so in the last decade since Alduin's defeat and after the end of the civil war; he only seemed to grow stronger. In fact, he had not seemed to age a day since then…
"Hmm," Paarthurnax grumbled, his face crinkling in contemplation, or as much as one can with a snout.
Paarthurnax turned from his seat on the dragon stone at the sound of wings and crunching snow over the ever present winds on the Throat of the World. He found Odahviing settling down next to his perch and craning his neck and head around in search of something.
"Drem Yol Lok, Paarthurnax. Has our zeymah already departed?" asked Odahviing, turning to look at him. Paarthurnax had always been rather surprised at how well the Dovahkiin and Odahviing had gotten along after their fight at Whiterun. One could even go as far as to say that two of them were grand friends. That thought, though strange, always made him feel as if his attempts to teach the Way of the Voice to his fellow dovah had succeeded in some small measure.
"Yes, he has departed only recently. He said something about presents and left. I am assuming it has something to do with Lydia." Paarthurnax always found it interesting how the most powerful warrior in Skyrim could be cowed by a few stern words from his wife, and turned from a hardened soldier into a giddy young man when presented with his daughter. Odahviing couldn't quite suppress a chuckle at that.
"Indeed, even the norak dovah must bow before Lydia's commands. Ever since they created their second kiir she has begun telling Bruniik that he shall not be disappearing 'willy nilly.'" Both dragons sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Odahviing resumed the conversation.
"Is he still visiting in those rags he calls armor?" he asked, sounding slightly vexed.
Paarthurnax felt his earlier curiosity rising again as he responded with a grunt.
Though Odahviing never pretended to be an expert on the functions of humans and their mortal kin, he was fairly sure that the cold and biting wind that was constantly present on the mountain peak would be dangerous to any mortal; nevertheless one dressed only in hide coverings. He couldn't help but ask his elder dragon, "Is that normal for humans?"
"No, but the blood of the dovah has always been strong in our zeymah."
,.,.,.,.,
Lydia sat in front of Klimmek's house and watched as the morning sun began to shine on the enormous expanse of the Throat of the World. After seeing it for the first time nearly a decade ago, and many times since then, she was still astounded at the sheer size of it. It brought back memories of the first time that she and Bruniik had climbed it and nearly died in the process.
It had taken them nearly three days to reach High Hrothgar and they nearly died on the way at least six times, with the cold biting at them the entire time, and with only the clothes on their back, some blankets, a small fire and each other for warmth. On the second night, a frost troll had caught them by surprise as they set up camp and was already beginning to choke the life out of Bruniik before she had shoved a dagger so far into the back of its head that only the hilt was visible.
Even with the uncomfortable memories that came with visiting Ivarstead, she came anyways, because she wasn't about let her idiot of a husband get wrapped up in some noble mission and get sidetracked again on the way to Whiterun. But of course, she couldn't bother him too much about his "saving people thing"; it was one of the reasons she married him. She supposed that was the reason that Klimmek had insisted quite vehemently that she could stay with him until Bruniik finished his visit to, as Joanna called them, Grandpa Arny and Pathunax with a simple statement of, "Of course, you guys are practically family around here."
As she wondered on that, her thoughts turned towards her daughter sleeping off the trip to Ivarstead. She was in a small bed in the house behind her with the fox that had followed her husband home several years ago. It still astounded her how much of both of them she saw in Joanna. She had her father's large, golden eyes and his aquiline nose, but she had her hair, complexion and high cheek bones. Though when it came to her personality, she was entirely too much like her father, with her need for adventure and excitement and the frightening ease with which she made friends.
And to think she was carrying another one. The thought made her smile.
Just as she was about to get up and return to the house, Klimmek exited it. The last year since Lydia had last seen him had treated him kindly, with only a few more wrinkles around his face to show the passage of the years.
"Good morrow, Lydia. What are you doing up so early?" he asked, his voice brisk, but friendly.
"Nothing, just thinking about some memories." she said, eyes turning to the mountain again. Klimmek stared at her for a moment before responding.
"Well, yes, that tends to happen with age, I find. So how have things been?"
"They've been well. The store in Whiterun is doing well, Joanna is growing more each day, and my husband is finally starting to act like the responsible man he should be." Both of them chuckled at the joke for a moment before continuing to make small talk. It had nearly been fifteen minutes and people were beginning to leave their houses to start the day, when the comfortable silence that had permeated the small hamlet was broken by the sound of galloping hooves. Everyone turned towards the sound, expecting a guard returning from a patrol.
From the north a guard came riding towards them, at full tilt on a chestnut horse, and was able to shout one word before two arrows sprouted from his back.
"Bandits!"
A/N:Hey, thanks for reading. Tell me what you thought. My sincerest thanks to Tomed Ceht for pre-reading.
Translations
Drem Yol Lok – Greetings
Zeymah - Brother
Norak Dovah– Fiercest Dragon
Kiir - Child
Edit-7/30/2012-Fixed up some grammatical errors and other stuff. Re-betad by Nenalata.