Half-Blind

by Nutzoide

The adventures of Arith, Nord survivor of Helgen, as she explores/wanders/stumbles around Skyrim having discovered her abilities. An in-character blind playthrough of the game, expanded to give the Dovahkiin, and hopefully many NPCs, a greater voice.

2. A Strained Pilgrimage

Half-Blind

-An Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim Fan Fiction by Nutzoide-

Chapter 2: A Strained Pilgrimage

Brittleshin Pass was a great anticlimax after the furious battle within the Swindler's Den. The pass had no troops or guard save for the abominable re-animated bones that prowled around, all but blindly through the tunnels. Lydia did not need to draw her weapon against them even once, a single arrow from beyond their unnatural view was enough to pull them apart, and so break the enchantments that kept them mobile.

The Necromancer was another matter, warded against harm so that even Arith's first silent arrow, embedding itself in the man's skull, would not kill him. He responded with lances of ice, first thrown at Arith but turning to Lydia when she charged to the fore.

He fell shortly, leaving behind his grisly magical experiments.

"I have never seen anything like this," Lydia had exclaimed at the unwholesome sights around them. She let her weapon fall from her fingers, to pull a two foot icicle from her arm. Two others had pierced her chest and leg. It took a moment for Arith to marvel at the woman's stamina, not to mention her tolerance for pain, before her wits returned enough to think of healing the hardy warrior.

The pair returned to Whiterun only a few tomes and spoils heavier for having made the unexpectedly brief detour. That they had also been accosted on the way back was of little consequence, and Arith intended to keep it that way.

"Lydia, if you would, please do not mention the Khajit. I will explain that later. For now I have hide and leather to sell." She handed her housecarl a small purse. "Here is your share of the gold. I will meet you again tomorrow, if you care to return to the Jarl's hall."

Lydia however shook her head. "The gold is yours, my Thane. Better to furnish yourself with a home that I may then guard for you, perhaps? And I would meet this noble Redguard woman whose freedom we have maintained."

Refusal was not something Arith had been prepared for. "Very well then. You will have the pleasure of watching me tan and cut the sabre-tooth hides for sale then, just as you watched me skin the beasts."

And Lydia did just that. The day was still young, but Lydia spent all of it watching or assisting as Arith plied her father's old trade, tanning the huge skins and then cutting them from memory so that little work remained to stitch them into shirts or have them treated to make armours. Adrianne of the Warmaiden's seemed content to let them work if it gave her good articles to sell on once finished.

Arith worked until the armour smith closed her shop, Lydia acting as a housecarl apparently should and taking errands to provide food throughout the day. Then, once evening fell, came the job of giving Saadia her good news.

Within her room at The Bannered Mare the pretty foreigner seemed not so much relieved as weary. Though her words were one of gratitude, her voice sounded flat and tired. "At last. I can rest safely. You have done me a great service, warrior. I cannot thank you enough."

She stood to open her dresser, and retrieve a purse from it. A heavy one. "Take this as reward. I managed to sneak some of my wealth out of Hammerfell when I left. It's the least I can do. For now I will maintain my ruse here. You will always be welcome at The Bannered Mare."

And that, it seemed, was that. There had to be four or five hundred gold in that little pouch as Arith weighed it in her hand; a more than suitable payment for the work, but Arith felt a little disappointment that there was no talk of future plans or foreign noble's insights. Purely business for a woman who, regardless of the truth, had probably had enough.

"Then we will be on our way. Stay safe, Saadia."

xxx

Back in the dusk outside, Lydia, silent through the meeting, spoke up. "So what were your thoughts?"

Arith didn't know, and frankly didn't care now. The deal was done, and while dangerous, had been paid for. "My thoughts now are of my bed, and resting my arms after a day of leather work. Do you intend to follow me to Jorrvaskr and sleep in one of the Companions' beds?"

"Let us see if they try to throw me out."

Inside it seemed that several of the mercenary Companions had been awaiting her return, and Arith found Farkas among them to report on her success.

"I have taken care of your problem. The mage is as dead as his minions."

"As I have already received word, and the client is satisfied. Profitable work, if that's what you were after." Another small purse was handed Arith's way. "You have done well for yourself whelp, and for the companions."

Coming from that guttural voice, and knowing what she knew, that almost sounded threatening. "I... Good. Farkas, I will have to take my leave. You heard the Greybeard summons, I assume? Before."

"We all did. That was for you, Shield Sister?" When Arith nodded Farkas gave a deep chuckle. "Then best not keep them waiting. Stay here tonight, and we will see you off come sun-rise."

"That was my intent. Will there be a problem if my housecarl stays?"

"Housecarl?" Farkas eyes Lydia warily. "Not my place to say. Njada might have something to say about it."

Thankfully, she didn't. One unfriendly quip from her bed was all Njada said before rolling over to sleep. It was a shame she was such a female dog. By reputation Njada was good with both a blade and an expert at shield fighting, and Arith guessed there was much she and the warrior woman could teach each other.

Instead Arith just took to her bed and bid Lydia take one opposite.

She wasn't ready to sleep though. Her mind went back to the Khajit woman who had come at them blades drawn, and she unfolded the note they had taken from the dead feline woman's pockets.

'As instructed, you are to eliminate Arith 'Half-Blind' by any means necessary. The Black Sacrament has been performed - Somebody wants this poor fool dead.

'We have already received payment for the contract. Failure is not an option.

'~ Astrid.'

Whoever Astrid was, he or she must have been very sure of their own security, because no-one sending out assassins should be stupid enough to ever leave a signature.

From the fourth bed in the women's side of the room, Ria watched with youthful interest. "What is it you have there, Arith? A plot or an admirer?"

Arith folded the letter and tucked it away again, before undressing for bed. "Neither, I hope."

xxx

"A Soul Trap? Some may call it 'evil', but it is a necessity for any enchanter. There is no actually suffering involved, beyond that which parts the soul from its moral body."

The morning was still young at the Dragonsreach above Whiterun proper, and dour voiced Farengar Secret-Fire, the Jarl's mystic, joined Arith at his enchanting table. The sword that lay there was already crumbling away, Arith's magic dissecting it as it had the enchanted helm only minutes before, and imprinting the lines of its spell into her arcane psudoconscious.

Farengar had already given permission for Arith to practice at his tables, but neither one had actually expected her to do so. At least not so soon.

Behind them Lydia watched, mildly curious. "For a woman who claims so little skill at magic, you seem both capable and intent on improving your mastery of it, my Thane."

"Using my title is not licence to talk back, Lydia. My interest in Magicka may be more academic than practical, but I have been all but self-taught so far. And the very idea of a soul trap scares me. But if this weapon could fill a soul gem with its killing blow then so could my axe, and if that means I need not learn the spell myself..."

Farengar finished her justification for her. "Those you slay would no doubt be deserving of such an end, I suspect? I am no master of the art, my specialities lie elsewhere, but I can guide you in your first steps."

Two hours and several emptied soul gems later Arith had two new enchanted weapons to sell to replace the items she had destroyed in learning their properties. And now her axe might fill future gems, to fuel further enchantments to come.

While of little use to herself still, Magickal equipment could fetch a fine price among wealthy treasure hunters and mercenaries.

"Some decent enchantments." Farengar said after the work was done. "But keep studying, you have only scratched the surface." It was critical, and faintly condescending, but then he was likely used to the sort of work that appeared from the mage's college in Winterhold.

Lydia, with no knowledge of Magic to sharpen her opinions, was more complementary, ignoring Farengar. "If it is half as worthy as her healing, that weapon will do well for her."

"Oh, you practice restoration as well? I have several more advanced spells than simple healing that I can sell, if you plan to sell those other items? They will make for good examples to other students."

Arith glared with her good eye and said nothing, but bought the spells. A faster healing magic would be worth learning.

xxx

The sky proved uncaring to their plans, for no sooner had they left Dragonsreach the sky opened over Whiterun. Dark clouds rolled across as far as the eyes could see, so there was no sense in delaying their journey. With oil slicked cloaks Arith set out, Lydia two paces behind at all times.

Thankfully the day, while miserable, chose not to torment them further, and not a single man, woman or creature accosted them save a lowly, wretched skeever. Arith felled the oversized rat-beast with a single swing of her axe, not even seeing fit to risk breaking an arrow for the kill.

However, as she did the new enchantment on her blade cracked like thunder, and Arith held the weapon at arms reach as a purple storm of soul energy erupted from the skeever and flooded into Arith's pack, no doubt already bound to the closest empty soul gem within. Lydia approached cautiously, while Arith gawped at her weapon.

"That," she said with reverence in her voice, "was not what I expected. I think I may have overstepped my mark."

"A petty soul, no doubt," Lydia agreed, "but surely useful."

Arith shook her awe, along with a fair amount of rainwater, from herself. "True, but more judicious use of it might be in order."

xxx

That use came when they stopped for the evening. With the rain still falling they sought shelter in a cave, only to spy a pair of trolls who had done the same. The ugly brutes were strong, but not smart enough to find their attackers before Arith had put three arrows into the closest one, after which axe, sword and shield were enough to wear them down, healing blood or not.

Were it not for the collection of skulls that lined the inside of the cave, or the pair of Bosmer elves who lay dead by their fire, it might have looked homely.

"Poor fools. Scavengers or bandits by the look of it," Lydia commented as they dragged the trolls out to send down the steep, rocky hillside below. "Hardly prepared to fend off trolls."

Arith had more practical things on her mind. "Strip them before we take them out too. They have no need of modesty now."

"And we have need of the gold? You could have bought Breezehome with the Redguard's reward money and those enchanted daggers, I am sure."

That was true, before buying those spells she'd had more than enough to buy the house. "Lydia, truth be told, with a bed given by the Companions I am not in need of a house in Whiterun. And if I am to be some mythical Dovahkiin I doubt I shall get to stay there even so. But if such an opportunity came elsewhere, a safe place to sleep in another town might be worth having, if the opportunity arose."

"I... see."

Lydia did join her in stripping the elven pair, before sending the bodies down the cliff to join the dead trolls. She clearly wasn't happy about it, or about what Arith had just told her. But she did so, all the same.

The silence wasn't pleasant though. Especially not when the vista before them was almost a work of art, tainted by the unspoken resentment in Lydia's eyes.

"Look, the town is beautiful under the sunset."

Lydia did give it a brief, longing glance before turning back inside. "Yes. This place was once called Greywinter Watch. It was a lookout over the north-eastern approach."

xxx

To Arith's relief the morning found Lydia in recovered spirits, if still quiet, and breakfast was brief. There were still two days of trek to cover.

The weather had also recovered, making the hike to the old Valtheim Towers pleasant after a full day of walking through the freezing northern rain. Deer frolicked on the mountainside, birds sang in the trees - even a crazy hobo witch came out to play, to put herself out of her own misery at the hands of Lydia's sword.

"That... was unsettling. Can we at least move on quickly, before that dark necromancy taints us further."

"We will, just one moment."

"Ugh, my Thane, must you strip everyone we slay naked! This is mercenary to an indecent level."

Arith wrapped up the enchanted robe and left the witch by her unpleasant standing stone. "For what it is worth, Lydia, you have my apologies. But she can feed the trees and the foxes just as well bare."

"It would not surprise me if you lost your eye because of such judgement."

Arith let that barb stew for a moment. "No. But losing it did impress upon me how much honour is in one's own eyes, and not as unbending as jarls, families, or priests would have me believe. The dead have no more cares, but I have been caught unprepared too often of late and will take any aid they offer in death."

They resumed their slow march, Arith making sure not to let the distance they walked lengthen. "If I besmirch your honour then you are free to return to Whiterun, but I am glad for your company as much as for your sword-arm, Lydia. I would not act as I do if I felt it 'unjust'."

"And the dead deserve no dignity?"

"Do they require it? Would they not also object to their moulding away back to the earth, or being burnt to ash upon a pyre? If Arkay saw fit to tell me otherwise, I would heed him, but he does not."

"Or perhaps his signs have already come, if your life has been tumultuous. And of the Divines who *do* you revere? What *is* sacred to you, Arith?"

Arith looked ahead, wondering what to say, but such thoughts did not last long as they finally saw the Valtheim Towers. "I am glad you finally use my name, my friend, and I would tell you. But first, are the Towers not supposed to be old and un-kept now?"

"Yes, they were abandoned." It was then Lydia saw what Arith had already noticed. Several men, specks against the sky, paced along the bridge across the White River.

"A new guard, do you suppose?" Arith asked, "or yet more bandits?"

Lydia frowned. "This road is not so heavily patrolled in these times. Let us hope for the former, and expect the latter."

It was indeed a fight they met at the Towers, the watch setting upon them and rousing her gang to take out their prey quickly. Instead Arith shot her dead, and took her axe to the barbarian man who burst from within, ripping his soul from his body with her weapon before following Lydia inside. The housecarl held the rout up to the bridge, and from the rickety wooden stairs outside Arith harassed them further, putting arrows past them until they both fell.

Arith was not the only archer left though, and from the second tower a shot pierced her arm that jerked her muscles in spasms enough to drop her ready arrow. The wound she could heal, but that shock was magical! She and Lydia ran across the bridge to kill that last, trapped aggressor, but not before they had both felt the sting of those electrically charged arrows again.

The man himself put up little fight, and was dead before Arith had scaled the second tower. "So," Lydia asked, standing over the dead man, "are we to take their clothes too?"

"Do they deserve better after attacking us?"

"I will not take issue, for now."

"And I do not ask you to carry them. One of them wore an iron rams-horn helm though. It would suit you well, I think."

Lydia hissed as Arith pulled the arrow from her thigh. "And I think this man's bow would likewise suit you. That shock to my leg all but toppled me into the river."

xxx

Though she had said it partly in jest, the helm did look quite striking and fearsome with Lydia's chiselled jaw. Any bandit who ran out to meet that would surely be given second thoughts. But then if the two of them surviving all six brigands was not enough, and even more in the battle against the Alik'r, then there was no hope for her attackers regardless.

After Arith had gathered her spoils the pair made the most of the bandits' camp fire and ate an early lunch. "You were going to tell me of the Gods, Arith. Of what you *do* hold dear?"

Yes, of course she was. "Well, a time ago I would have said family, comfort and a good hunt were my vices. Now... now I am not as sure as I once was. I aspired to the hunt, but rarely took part myself. Until I became the hunted. If I have surviving family I would not know where to find them. Mead, food, and a fire, though; those I can still enjoy."

"Of the Divines..." She drew a long breath. "I would visit the temple to Mara in Riften as a girl, with my Mother. Stendarr appealed in a way as well, offering mercy and righteousness is equal measure. That suited my sensibilities, and fitted the old tales of heroism I would be told."

"Mine as well. Delivering a swift blade, and knowing when to set it aside; it was those teaching that took me into the Whiterun guards."

"Which brought you here, travelling with a degenerate Thane and clearing the White River Road of banditry." Arith put a smile on her lips. "The Nine have an interesting sense of humour sometimes, don't they?"

"That they do, at times."

xxx

The air cleared again, at least in part, the trek alongside the White River was quiet but pleasant, even going so far as to lack rabid necromancers. Reaching the fork of the White and Black rivers - Arith had to wonder if the Septim's cartographers had really been all that literate - their road turned south. By the end of their journey they would have walked around more than half of The Throat of the World's base (largest and highest mountain both in Skyrim and the whole of Tamriel), but that route had been chosen as quicker and potentially less dangerous than taking the south side, and braving both the snowy foothills and a return to the burnt out remains of Helgen. The fact that the road signs also pointed this way to Ivarstead helped.

The mages of Fort Amol proved frosty, so the pair gave their compound a wide berth, and the only souls they met for the entire day were a troop of Imperial soldiers with their Stormcloak prisoner, and some starved wolves who did not survive their own ambush.

At the very same bridge they encountered the wolves, however, Arith realised she had made a grave mistake. She looked at the map in her hands, before closing her eyes and letting out a groan of despair.

"That is not a road! It's a river! We'll have to travel *around* this side if the foothills!"

Lydia seemed unperturbed. "We could try and follow the river up, if the banks are not too wild."

Indeed, they weren't, but their foray was cut short when they met the cliff from where the water poured from the base of the mountain. Dejected, Arith led her housecarl back to the road, to continue on for an hour's detour before they could even begin to climb into the foothills towards Ivarstead.

xxx

Night fell as they finally found a steep dirt road that would lead them up, miles farther south than Arith had hoped, but any path now was better than taking the long road around, halfway to Riften and back.

But an hour's hard climb and the vanishing light made for difficult going, even for Lydia with her surfeit of stamina. "My Thane, we should stop soon for the night. Climbing like this in the dark is unwise."

"Yes, you are right," Arith puffed. "At the first good shelter we find, then."

However, the sound of another waterfall came before the shelter did, and the pair found their road ending at another river, rock walls on two sides and the river down on the third. "What..? But... the map..."

Lydia shook her head, but did not comment. Instead she uncorked the empty bottles of mead they had drank for supper, and headed for the falls. "Sit and rest, Arith. Check your map and I will get us some water."

The dirt road was poorly marked, but it looked as though they should have turned to make an even harder climb some half an hour back. No doubt that track had become overgrown, or they had missed it in the dark.

Where their road *had* led was an old Dwemer run called the Darkwater pass, at it took little searching to find the heavy door that led into the mountains.

"The map doesn't show where it comes out," Arith explained, scouring her parchment for some sign to the contrary, "but if nothing else we might find shelter for the night in there."

xxx

Rest would not be had so easily, and what they did find was water, knee deep in the entrance passage. Arith stared at it long and hard before forging in. "If we have to light a fire again, so be it. Better that than sleep under the stars and wake in the rain again."

Lydia was clearly unhappy with the prospect, but either had nothing else to suggest, or was too tired to argue. "Lead on then."

Sounds up ahead made them pause before they were even halfway in. A raspy tongue, clucking to itself as its hunched and hairless owner scrabbled around in the dirt. Falmer were a myth to those outside Skyrim, and to many within its boundaries as well, but those who stepped outside the safety of town likely knew someone who had encountered the retrograde and degenerate ancestors of the Snow Elves. More bestial even than Orsimer, Khajit, or Argonian, what they lacked in animal features they made up for in base aggression and simple-mindedness.

Stories said that the Dwemer had kept them as chattel, poisoning them to blindness and making them hardy slaves. Now free of those masters, the Falmer skulked underground, living like animals, but for the crude swords, bows and magic they used to kill their prey.

"Where there is one," Arith whispered, "there will be more. What do you say?"

"I still have strength enough for a fight if there is a fire to welcome me afterwards. And it would be a service to put these wretches out of their misery."

While wretched, the Falmer proved tough, and Arith had to join Lydia in melee after her first two electrically charged arrows stuck in its hide. I didn't help that, though blind, the Falmer could fight well enough by sound alone, and their shields proved a godsend in fending off the creature's wild sword swings.

Still, it died in time, and the pair pressed on up. The upper chamber was also flooded, with more Falmer to dispatch, but with them were a trio of Chaurus - four foot crustaceans that the Falmer would breed for their poisons. And with two Falmer to fight alongside those beasts, Arith soon found the Falmer's blades burned with that self same poison as they cut.

Outnumbered, and with Lydia knocked to her knees from both exhaustion and the pain of those cuts, Arith did the only thing she could think of. She Shouted.

"FUS!"

The shockwave from that Dragon Shout knocked the nearest Falmer off his feet, and left the rest staggered enough for Arith to recover herself. With a primal battle cry she swung her axe at the lot of them. Before finishing the Falmer lying at her feet and ripping its soul from its body in the process.

The other Falmer fled in terror, while the Chaurus backed away, giving Lydia time to regain her feet, and take up the fight again. With the enemy frightened and on the defensive they had little chance against Arith and Lydia now, despite their numbers.

It had not been an easy victory though, and Arith got to try out her new healing spell to clear their cuts and pincer marks, and thankfully ease the sting of the irritant poison.

Lydia looked down at the dead bodied beneath the water, and worked her arms to put more feeling back into them after her dunk. "You know, with magic like that, I am glad that I am fighting *for* you, my Thane. That did not go as I had planned."

"No. Perhaps I should have expected Falmer to have pets, but that venom is more dangerous than their blades, in causing pain. We should be more cautious."

Thankfully there were no more Chaurus to be found in the flooded crypt, for that was what the level was. Arith found several hundred gold among the broken urns and a storage chest the Falmer had filled, swelling her purses further, and she received no complaint from Lydia this time. Perhaps the bodied of the Falmer and the long dead Dwemer held no place in her heart. Or perhaps she was glad that Arith left the bodies with the stinking loincloths that passed for their clothing.

The hewn corridors continued up, and out of the water at last, leading to a simple set of stone chambers with the sounds of more Falmer within. Arith motioned for Lydia to say behind while she crept up, her bow drawn. The main chamber was bare save for a grate in the floor, and only one Falmer stalked the side-room. From the cover of a pillar Arith fired, sticking the Falmer hard and causing him to cast a shower of frost in her direction in reflex.

Safely behind her cover Arith shot again before slinging her bow onto her back, and motioning Lydia up. Drawn out by the arrows the Falkmer mage was hit by their twinned charge, and while resilient their shields rapping at his face kept his spell-casting brief, and his life short. The ambush that followed from within the Mage's chamber was a formality after that. While the Falmer caught them off guard in dropping from the ceiling, neither one could take either Lydia or Arith in a straight up fight, despite the venom on heir blades.

"Another fight?" Came a voice from below the grate, and once they were done Lydia looked down to see an Argonian man locked below. He looked up briefly, revealing his lizard-man face, but did not speak, and instead sat back down in his hole, resigned to his fate.

Arith meanwhile was drawn into the Falmer mage's camber by the rough enchanting table there, complete with a book welded to it with wax from the now unlit candles. The Falmer could not read with their sightless eyes, so it must have been a Dwemer enchanting tome. She pried it from its wax bed and began to flip through it.

"Arith? There is an Argonian down here. We should try and find a way to him."

Arith sighed and put down the book. As much as she disliked Argonians - beast-people in general in fact - she couldn't in good conscience leave him to starve. And if they were to find shelter and rest in this place they would need to clear out the Falmer properly.

"Stay put, scale-face. We will look for the way down."

The only exit however still led up, and Arith almost walked right into a tripwire before catching herself, and cutting it from arm's reach with her axe. That proved not to be cautious enough, as the vast sprung claw of metal that it triggered almost took her arm off.

"... That seems a little extreme for Falmer."

"Perhaps they know to avoid it as a matter of course?"

Three more Falmer, archers this time, patrolled a wide cavern where which a stream from above ran through. Being sightless they had only the direction of Arith's own arrows and the creaking of her bow to tell them where to shoot, and each one fell as Lydia charged their arrow-stuck bodies to finish them quickly.

The stairs around the stream hid more spoils of the Falmer raids, and after that Arith and Lydia found themselves emerging from the winding corridors into the night air again. The *cold* night air, emphasising how drenched they had got in reaching the exit.

"Let us look for landmarks to find ourselves tomorrow," requested Lydia. "I am dead on my feet, and saw no corridor we missed that might lead to the Argonian."

"Agreed. I will start up a fire and lay out the bedrolls if you start the search for way down. It must be in there somewhere."

xxx

Derkeethus, as the Argonian was named, grew a much sunnier demeanour when they returned. "You are still alive? Then please, get me out of here!"

It took some groping in the dark, but eventually scouring the rooms proved fruitful as the doorway down was a mechanical device, much like the one that had nearly mutilated Arith further up the passage. Though politeness drove Arith to offer him a seat around their fire, Derkeethus seemed far more intent on simply returning home to Darkwater Crossing, even if he had to do so at night, but bid them a friendly farewell, in his own way.

"Ours is to smile at your passing, friend."

After his departure, Arith looked across their fire as she and Lydia warmed their feet and dried their boots. "Is it me, or do all Argonian pleasantries sound like funeral verses?"

Lydia seemed too tired to care. "Let them have their strange ways. With your permission, my Thane, I will sleep."

"By all means. I can tend the fire, and I have a new book to read until you take watch."

Said book was a comprehensive, if rather too broad treatise on the basics of enchanting, and during her watch Arith made much use of the Falmer's enchanting table, breaking down her arcane spoils and destroying her Dwemer bow so as to enchant a new one, replicating the magics almost perfectly.

Lydia woke five hours later to take her shift - one could not be too careful even in a newly cleared ruin - to see Arith still pouring over the tome, and comparing her latest work to its guides.

"Have you been doing that all night?"

Arith smiled, her eyelids only half open. "Only when not watching the tunnels. I think I am getting the hang of this, Lydia. But I have emptied all my soul gems now, and so hit a dead end. I'm sure I could make this whole process more efficient, that must have been what Farengar Secret-Fire meant, but the answer just won't come to me."

Lydia came over in her stocking feet and took the book from Arith's hands. "Then rest, mageling, and sleep on it. Before you fall and knock your learning from your spinning head."

That sounded like a good idea, until the sarcasm seeped through into her sleepy mind. "Lydia, I hope you are not mocking me. I am no 'mageling'. Does magic hold no fascination for you at all?"

"A stout blade and sturdy shield are my tools, my Thane. I would want no other."

xxx

The morning saw them start with a hearty breakfast - mead replacing water at Arith's suggestion to 'keep out the morning chill' - and then a stiff climb up from the pass exit to try and view their surroundings. It was difficult to gauge their position from within the pine trees, but upon reaching the plateau above they found a large river, and Arith consulted her map again.

"... I think this *is* the river I was trying to follow. We have cut onto a path that I thought didn't exist after all! What on Tamriel!" Arith folded the map and stuck it back in her pack. "Well, no matter. We are here after all, so we should reach Ivarstead by nightfall, if not before."

Not ten minutes up the river path their way was blocked though. A troll stood beating on the side of a freshly killed deer, and among the rocks lay two bodies in Stormcloak uniform. "Lydia, can you distract it with the bow you found? I have a soul gem to fill."

When it was dead, Arith turned to the deer, and the man and woman by the side of the road, until Lydia lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Please, my Thane, do not take their armour too. Were their deaths not misfortune enough?"

Arith did pause. "Lydia, what would it look like if I were to start selling Stormcloak uniforms? I have no love for them, but don't intend to go looking for a fight either."

One the woman, however, she did find a note about their task. "'It's probably just a couple of wolves'," she read aloud at the end. "'so you'll only need to send at most two men. Happy hunting'."

"Ready for wolves, and finding a troll. Poor fools, to be so unprepared."

xxx

Though their hearts were heavy from that grim discovery the road was easy going and they were much further up the riverside road than Arith had guessed. They reached Ivarstead by mid morning.

Arith had expected something grander but the place seemed to be a pleasant farming village, nestled in a protected fold of the foothills, away from the worst of the weather. As they approached, an elf and Nord man stood at the bride across the river, debating too loudly to be entirely casual.

"On your way up the 7,000 steps again Klimmek?" asked the elf.

"Not today. I'm just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar. The path just isn't safe."

The elf feigned surprise. "Aren't the Greybeards expecting some supplies?"

"Honestly, I'm not certain. I've yet to be allowed into the monastery." The man seemed tired of the veiled accusations, and sighed. "Perhaps one day."

Seeing Arith and Lydia approach he turned to greet them while the elf made his exit, his point made.

"Passing through on the way to High Hrothgar? I'm about to make a delivery there myself. Apparently."

Arith frowned. Of course the Greybeards wouldn't meet her at Ivardstead. She was expected to climb the bloody mountain. "Delivery up there?" She pointed to the mountain towering above them, upon which High Hrothgar sat. "What could you possibly want to take?"

He shrugged. "Mostly food supplies like dried fish and salted meats. You know, things that keep fresh for a long time. The greybeards tend not to get out much, if you catch my meaning."

Yet they could summon her from across the other side of the mountain well enough, Arith thought. "And in return?"

"Well, there's kind of an understanding between us. I mean, it wouldn't feel right to charge them just for a bit of preserved food. Trouble is, my legs aren't what they used to be, and climbing the 7,000 steps takes its toll."

"If it is burdensome," Lydia put in from behind, "we will likely be making that trip today in any case."

Klimmek agreed eagerly, if with dignified restraint in his voice. And what harm was there in it. Especially if Lydia was volunteering to take it. Arith still had a pack full of dragon bones, after all.

As noble as this all was though, Arith did have one concern. "And if we are to be carrying your goods, perhaps you could tell us of these dangers you mentioned to your Bosmer friend?"

"Well, there's the occasional wolf pack, or stray," he eyed their weapons, "But that shouldn't be a problem for the likes of you. Other than that, just watch your footing. In these wintry conditions the stairs can be treacherous."

He thanked them again before heading back to the village. "Be careful up there."

Arith was not ready to make that climb yet though. She had steam to let off over having to make that legendary climb in the first place, and their packs were heavy with bandit and Falmer loot.

xxx

Strangely, for such a nice, quaint village, its inhabitants were a miserable lot. The farmers lived in a respectful fear of the Greybeards and the rumblings that came from their monastery, and the mill was run by a woman who was willing to pay what little gold she had to have the locals bears thinned out before their constant interference drove her out of business.

There was not even a store for Arith to unload her spoils into. In fact, the only place of any interest was the local tavern - a rest-stop for pilgrims and travellers - and even that had the unfortunate name of 'The Vilemyr Inn'.

Inside, the few patrons there were seemed similarly disenfranchised. The barmaid seemed bored with life in the village, and Klimmek's creepy friend has little to say on the matter of the Greybeards, or anything else for that matter. One cheerful looking man by the door suggested a drinking contest, and just to break the monotony Arith was tempted to accept. She probably would have done if Lydia was not there with business on her mind. "Perhaps once my business here is done, friend."

The Inkeeper himself had dark eyes, and warned them away from the barrow house across the river if they were planning to stay. He and the barmaid had been taking about it only moments before, she having disobeyed already, it seemed. "The place is haunted," he added gravely.

Arith had to ask. "A haunted barrow. Truly?"

"It is, and you should stay away! I've seen one of the spirits with my very own eyes. When it glared at me, I swear it burned right through my soul!"

"And these 'spirits'. Do they haunt the village as well?"

The barman shook his head. "No, fortunately they seem to stay with the barrow. As if they are guarding it. Certainly isn't helping my business any. Who'd want to rent a room anywhere near a haunted barrow?"

Arith looked to Lydia. In her mind it probably made the place very attractive indeed, to the right type of guest. Definitely a talking point, and a way to break the apparent monotony with gossip. "I think I might, when I have finished my... ah, pilgrimage. But in the mean time, let my friend and I have a drink."

xxx

It turned out the miller woman's concerns about bears were justified, as no sooner had Arith and Lydia begun their climb than they met their first, staring down from the steps and clearly unwilling to cede possession of them. In the end there was no way around and when the animal attacked they put it down as swiftly as they could.

There were a few straggling wolves as well, just as Klimmek had warned, but more noteworthy were the other pilgrims. Arith had expected to find few people there after the poor welcome at Ivarstead, but the few men and women they met past the snow line were calm, friendly people. Though not really seeing the point, Arith did stop at the enshrined inscriptions as she and Lydia climbed, as it seemed like the thing to do.

The third pilgrim they found wearing far too little for the weather, just a basic studded skirt and jerkin, and yet she sat cross legged in the snow in front of the shrine. All she would say was her name, Karita, and that she was a pilgrim as well, and it was better left at that.

Then as Arith tried to see what simple word were inscribed on that shrine she heard Lydia shriek. "Stendarr have mercy! My Thane, a dragon!

Arith had not heard a thing, but she turned at the warning to have a cloud of snow splash across her face, and a giant blue-brown muzzle emerge from it only feet from her own head.

Arith panicked. The only dragon she'd seen to the point had slain two men and badly burned several others, and she had fought it from the safety of a tower. This one was already on her, and there was no cover on this snowblown mountain path.

She bolted, racing back up the steps they had descended to reach the shrine, and pausing only to look back for Lydia and the pilgrim woman.

But they didn't follow. Karita the pilgrim stood below the giant creature with sword and shield in hand, laughing as it poured its freezing breath over her. "Hahaha, think you can take me?"

Only a Nord could have laughed in the face of such an attack, but laugh that woman did as she stepped up to slash at the dragon's forelegs.

Likewise Lydia stood between Arith and the beast, looking at her expectedly. "My Thane, slay it! Slay the dragon!"

Arith's heart leaped into her throat, and as they both ducked at the dragon's roar, Arith dashed forward to try and pull her away.

"My Thane?"

"Lydia, I did not slay the dragon at Whiterun! Irileth killed it, even as it set her alight! I just shot arrows into its hide from within the tower!"

Understanding began to shine in Lydia's eyes. "Then it was your bloodline that earned you..."

The dragon bellowed again, and they both turned to see it take flight. Karita stood still, bleeding but eager as she called the beast back. And return it did, circling above them to land atop the courageous woman.

Arith felt her cowardice melt at the sight of a kinsman so eager for glory, and so eager to face death. "Oh for the love of all things beautiful," she exclaimed, pulling her bow from its place on her back. "Lydia, fight with her. I will draw it away if I can. Go!"

Lydia's smile glowed before she charged to meet the dragon's landing, leaving Arith to squint through the powdered snow and set her good eye on the dragon's throat. Arrow after arrow stuck the beast's neck and face, twitching it left and right as they did, until at last the beast grew weary of the annoyance and with one last blast of freezing breath leaped over the swordswomen and into Arith. Hardened to the cold from a life in these frozen northlands Arith closed her eye, drew her bow, and shot down the beast's gullet.

The dragon recoiled, thrashing every which way in its attempts to dislodge the arrow inside its throat, and Arith saw the chance to do as Irileth had, and claim the kill. Dropping her bow into the snow she drew her axe and leaped for the beast's head. It would not hold still to let her administer the killing blow, and instead dragged her from her feet as she grasped at its horns. From that rodeo perch Arith hacked like a woman possessed, smashing at its face and head until the beast finally fell dead, leaving Arith to jump away safe.

And then it happened. Staggering upright again Arith felt that holy glow rise in her chest as the dragon's flesh began to burn away.

Yes, she thought, it's happening. It's happening again!

And so it did. The dragon's soul was claimed not by her axe but by her flesh, power flowing through every fibre of her being until the whirlwind passed.

"Lydia! Lydia, we did it!"

From the small shrine Lydia stared in awe. "That you did, my Thane. I... had not expected to ever see such a thing, but you *are* the Dovahkiin."

It was then that Arith saw the body that lay behind Lydia. "Karita?"

Lydia shook her head. "The dragon's breath overcame her, at last. She died a warrior's death."

xxx

Arith was quiet as she scavenged what she could of the dragon's meagre remains. There was no way she could carry the combined collection of bones, scales and all the bandit armour she had already hauled about for the last three days. And, while she did so, Lydia laid their fallen warrior to rest by the side of the shrine.

To be both so empowered and humbled by death at the same time sat uncomfortably in Arith's breast. This should be a time of celebration; to jump around in the snow like a silly girl at her achievement, and her reverl in the power sitting waiting in her chest. And yet, that would have undermined the spirit of the woman who had died valiantly and fighting for glory alongside them.

Lydia rejoined her, eventually bringing several pieces of jewellery with her. "She wore an amulet of Talos. It looks to be inscribed with some manner of Dragon symbol, so it seemed fitting that you have it, rather than the next grave-robber to make this journey."

That would have been the justification Arith would have given. The tricket would just disappear otherwise, or fade beneath the earth, and the enchantment upon it did feel akin to her Shout.

"Likewise," Lydia cleared her throat. "Her armour is still in good repair, and it would protect you better than simple leather. If you intend to abandon all those stupid hide shirts at last..."

Arith nodded. "By all means. If you will not object. I... may need assistance with all this though."

Lydia gave her a wry smile, and sighed as she eyed the dragon's bones. Perhaps she had already resigned herself to it. "I am sworn to carry your burdens."

And that was that. They pair left the re-dressed warrior by the shrine as night fell, to finish their ascent.

As it was, a snow troll was all that marred a cold but beautiful night, the thin air making them both light headed but likewise making the tails of wind-caught snow look like the hair of Dibella, Goddess of Beauty herself. And then above came the aurora, playing its visual music across the deep night's sky as if to salute them, and the fallen Karita.

"It... truly is beautiful, isn't it?" Arith could only wish she had two eyes to appreciate it with, because surely only one was doing the sight a disservice.

Even the tall, stark stone of High Hrothgar itself could not mar that image.

"It is. I am glad you brought me this far, my Thane. If only to see this."

xxx

They deposited their food bundle as Klimmek had requested, and entered. In contrast to the dark beauty outside the halls of High Hrothgar were merely dark, and gloomy after the aurora. Somehow, Arith had expected more from these legendary sages.

"So, a Dovahkiin appears, at this moment, in the turning of the age." One of those men approached with those words, a smile beneath his eponymous beard.

Arith stepped forward. After that humbling climb she was in the mood to be deferential no longer. "You call me "Dragonborn", old man. What does that *mean*?"

He quirked a bushy eyebrow, and looked her up and down, "First let us see if you truly *are* Dovahkiin. Let us taste of your voice."

Fine, Arith through. If that's what you want. "FUS!"

The shockwave blasted the old man back, leaving him tottering unsteadily on his feet. As it did the man who had filed out behind him. On the stairs at the far side of the hall, behind the plume of dust that followed, a jar was knocked from its perch to shatter of the stone floor, and echo around the hall.

The old man steadied himself and approached once more, this time almost reverently. "Dovahkiin, it *is* you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now, tell me Dovahkiin, why have you come here?"

Arith glared at him. How dare he play games now, of all times. "My *name* is Arith Half-Blind and I *came* here because you called me to, with thunder from the skies no less!"

Unperturbed by her ire, Arngeir bowed. "Then we are honoured to welcome Arith Half-Blind to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfilment of your destiny."

"My... destiny."

"Yes, what it is will be for you to discover. However, while we cannot show you the destination, we can show you the path to travel.."

That was enough for her, and Arith agreed. "Then teach. Learning I can do, at least. But tomorrow. The climb was more tiring than it should have been, and my companion and I need drink and rest."

Arngeir seemed content with that, especially given the late hour. "You may not find the drink you are looking for, but we can provide water and beds for you both."

Arith looked to Lydia, standing quietly behind, and then back to him. "Then she and I will be glad to drink our own mead. Lead on, Master Arngeir."

xxx

To Be Continued...

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