It was nearing sunset by the time they reached the entrance to Bleak Falls Barrow, and while the fading light had allowed them to pass by the sentries the bandits had placed in a tower along the path earlier, they had no such luck with the bandits outside the crypt's doors. While he'd objected to it at the time, Edwin was glad that he'd gone along with Marcel's suggestion that he give up his Stormcloak uniform in favor of the sturdier iron armor Jarl Balgruuf had given him. It shielded him from the arrows of the archers the Dunmer had run off in search of when the fight began, allowing him to focus on the axe-wielding brigand that had been left to him.

The Nord dispatched the man with a couple swings of his hammer, then ran after his companion. He passed the corpses of a pair of archers, one of which was missing her bow and quiver of arrows, and found Marcel trying to circle around a large Nord with a long-handled axe, staying just out of the man's striking range. Edwin let out a battle cry and charged the man, only for the other Nord take a swipe at Marcel that forced the Dunmer between him and Edwin's hammer.

"Watch where you're swinging that thing!" Marcel snapped, twisting himself out of the path of the Nord's warhammer just before it smashed through the space he'd been occupying and into the bandit.

"Sorry!" Edwin removed the hammer from what was left of the bandit's head. At the very least, he wasn't half bad at swinging a warhammer. He just needed to learn how to time said swings a bit better… Which was always the part of his training where his father had given up on him out of frustration. At least Marcel was quick on his feet.

"Gods, didn't your father bother to teach you anything about fighting?" Most of the venom had left the Dunmer's voice, but he was still warily eyeing Edwin's hammer.

"Of course he did!" Edwin replied, more harshly than he'd intended to. It wasn't as though he needed to defend his father, especially to a gray-skin of all things, but he found himself doing it none the less. "He just wasn't around very often, so he couldn't spend much time on it."

When the Dunmer made no reply, he found himself continuing, "I tried to join the Stormcloaks, but I couldn't make it through the first few days of training. They said there was no place among them for me until I learned to hit the enemy more often than my allies. They only kept me on as a cook because of who my father is…"

"I'm sorry," Marcel said, placing a hand on the Nord's shoulder.

Edwin had been expecting to be insulted or told to stop complaining like a little girl, not sympathy, of all things. For a moment, he was frozen, unsure how to react. Then he came to his senses, realized that he would never be respected as an equal, as a man, by his countrymen if he allowed himself to show such weakness, especially in front of an elf, and pulled away.

"Don't be," the Nord said, forcing his face into a scowl in an effort to appear stronger than he felt. "Let's just get that Dragonstone."

"All right," the Dunmer replied, leading the way through the large, elaborately carved door that served as the crypt's entrance.

The door opened into a large chamber. At first, it seemed as though Edwin and Marcel were its only inhabitants, but once the door had shut and sealed out the sound of the wind blowing outside the Nord could hear the echoes of a pair of voices from somewhere on the other side of the chamber. Edwin readied his warhammer and prepared to let out another war cry, only for it to become a muffled grunt instead when Marcel clapped a hand over his mouth.

He grabbed the Dunmer's wrist and forced his hand away from his face, whirling around to face his companion as he asked, "What in Talos' name did you do that for?"

"Because I'd rather not go charging blindly toward an enemy I know nothing about, if it's all the same to you," Marcel replied. "If you can refrain from crushing anyone's skull for another few minutes, I'd like to go have a look at what we're up against and see if we can take care of them before they know we're here."

"But that's dishonorable," Edwin protested. Only a milk drinker would skulk about in the shadows instead of facing his enemy like a man. And Edwin was done being a milk drinker. If he'd survived a dragon attack, he could survive a few bandits.

"I prefer being alive to being honorable. If you want to rush in there like an idiot and risk getting yourself killed, you can do it without my help."

"Maybe I will. If today is the day I go to Sovngarde, so be it." Edwin began to prepare himself to charge deeper into the chamber again, only to find himself held back by a hand firmly gripping the collar of his armor.

"If you'll wait just a moment, I think I have a plan we can both be happy with," Marcel sighed. "It sounds like there are only two of them and, if I can confirm that, then relying entirely on stealth won't be necessary. If you allow me to sneak closer to them, and if there really are only two bandits in here with us, I'll pick one of them off with an arrow and, once the other one goes looking for where it came from, you can charge in with your warhammer. That way you don't have to sacrifice that precious honor of yours, and I don't have to worry about getting brained every time you take a swing at someone."

"That would work, I suppose…" Edwin replied. It wasn't how he would have chosen to do things, but he had to admit that it did make sense. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he hadn't been overly fond of the thought of taking on an entire group of bandits alone. He saw no reason he couldn't have cleared out that particular chamber by himself, but the rest of the barrow would likely have been quite a different matter.

"Thank you," Marcel said, stepping into the shadows that cloaked the edges of the chamber.

Edwin tried to watch his companion so that he knew when to venture deeper into the chamber himself, but it soon became clear why the Dunmer was fond of taking a stealthy approach to combat. Apart from the metal fastenings of his armor and his red hair and eyes he almost looked like a part of the wall he was pressed against. It seemed as though having gray skin did have its uses.

Once Marcel had crossed about half the chamber, he fitted an arrow to his bowstring and let it fly. While a pair of large pillars blocked Edwin's view of what had happened, the soft thud followed by a gurgle he heard were enough to convince him that the Dunmer's target would, at the very least, not be in good enough condition to put up a fight. He charged toward the noise, glad to finally be moving again, and soon found himself face to face with a bandit armed with a sword and hide shield. She held up the shield in an attempt to stop his hammer, but the hide crumpled, along with her arm, under his first strike, and the next caught her in the chest with a resounding crunch. The bandit lay twitching on the ground for a moment, desperately clinging to life, then went still, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling as one last, choked sigh escaped her.

As Edwin looked down at her corpse, he felt an odd twinge of guilt. The kills outside had been different somehow, the lack of time between them not giving him a chance to reflect on what he'd done. Now that there were no other bandits nearby or irritated companions to apologize to, he had nothing to do but look down at a face no different than the ones he passed on the street every day.

He shook his head, banishing the unpleasant thought back to the depths of his mind it had crawled out of. She had chosen this fate when she started her life as a bandit instead of a law-abiding citizen, and if it hadn't been caused by him some other adventurer would have done it sooner or later. Besides, she'd have done the same to him in a heartbeat if he'd given her a chance. A quick look around revealed the corpse of her former comrade slumped against a pillar, an arrow through his throat, and Marcel, having left his place among the shadows, picking the lock on a chest near their campfire.

After rummaging through its contents and pocketing a few items, Marcel frowned and closed the lid. "Haven't seen anything connecting these bandits to the ones I ran into near the border yet," he muttered. "At least they have a few potions and gems."

"Are we ready to get moving, then?" Edwin asked. He didn't want to be around the corpses any longer than he needed to be.

"I am if you are. Let's just hope the rest of them are as easy to clear out as these two were."

The next several chambers were much the same as the first, though Edwin was grateful that the narrow, winding hallways of the barrow made the rest of the bandits impossible to sneak up on. It seemed as though they were beginning to make some real progress through the barrow when, instead of a chamber all but identical to the others they'd passed through, they came upon a room covered in spider webs. Inside it they found a Dunmer trapped in one of said webs, but before either could get to him an enormous spider dropped down from the ceiling.

"How did that thing find enough food in here to get so big?" Marcel breathlessly asked as it rapidly crossed the distance between them. The Dunmer made a nearly successful attempt at plunging his sword into its eyes, but was forced to roll out of its way instead when it tried to take a bite out of his head.

After that, Marcel stuck with firing arrows into its more fleshy parts while Edwin handled the close-quarters combat. It made sense, really. Edwin's warhammer let him hack away at the spider without coming within biting range, and his armor was probably sturdy enough to stop its fangs if it did manage to get a bite in. It also made it possible for the Nord to focus entirely on the spider, instead of trying to find a way to swing his hammer without hitting someone right next to him.

Once the spider lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, dead, they approached the Dunmer it had been holding captive.

"You did it. You killed it. Now cut me down before anything else shows up," he said, struggling in vain to free himself.

"Do you know where the claw is?" Edwin asked.

"Yes, the claw. I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories! I know how they all fit together!"

"What are you talking about? Did that thing's poison go to your head?" Marcel asked, keeping Edwin between the other Dunmer and himself. Why his companion was so wary of an elf securely wrapped in several layers of webbing was beyond the Nord.

"Help me down, and I'll show you. You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden here."

"I don't think we have much choice," Edwin said. "Would you mind cutting him down, Marcel?"

"All right," Marcel replied, cutting the other Dunmer free of the web. "Now give us the claw, and show us what it does. If you don't cross us, you can go free once we're done here. Try anything funny, and you end up like that spider."

"Sounds fair to me," the bandit replied, fiddling with something by his hip.

Edwin didn't realize what was happening until Marcel was on the ground with a dagger in his thigh and the bandit was running deeper into the barrow as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Are you all right?" the Nord asked, dropping to his knees beside his fallen companion. He had no idea what he'd do if Marcel was seriously hurt, but he'd figure something out if that was what had happened. The thought of losing Marcel scared him more than it had any right to, even if he was just some gray-skin.

"I'm fine. I don't think he hit any arteries," the Dunmer replied, wincing as he tried and failed to get a good enough hold on the dagger to pull it out. "Should have seen that coming, though…"

"Let me help you with that," Edwin said, yanking the blade out of him in one smooth motion before he had a chance to respond. He became worried when, upon seeing the dagger, Marcel started laughing, but couldn't find any wounds on the elf apart from the one he'd just removed the blade from.

"Looks like he was one of the bandits I'm looking for after all," the Dunmer said, his laughter fading to a small smile. "He was even nice enough to give my dagger back to me. I'll have to return the favor when we catch up to him…"

After downing a healing potion, Marcel was on his feet again, his newly recovered dagger securely fastened to his belt. They found the bandit's corpse in a large chamber not far from the one they'd fought the spider in. He was lying face down in a pool of blood, and his corpse was covered in several deep lacerations, but his attacker seemed to have vanished. The only things in the room with them were a few draugr in the stone coffins carved out of the walls. Or at least, it appeared as though the draugr were the fully-dead variety until one sat up in its alcove in the wall and shambled toward them, sword drawn. It was easy enough to kill (again), though the resulting noise woke up two of its companions, neither of whom was any tougher than the first.

"What in Oblivion were those things?" Marcel asked, leaning against a pillar as he warily nudged a fallen draugr with his foot. The Dunmer seemed to be holding up well enough, but it was obvious that his leg was bothering him.

"Draugr. They were servants of dragons in life, so they were cursed to remain in this state of unrest in death."

"I just wish they hadn't decided our bandit friend needed to join them. I was hoping he could tell me where the rest of the ones who robbed me went." Marcel sighed. "Though I suppose if I had to pick just one thing to get back, the dagger would've been it."

The blade hadn't looked like anything special to Edwin, but he didn't see any need to point that out. He was sure the Dunmer had some reason the dagger was important to him.

A quick search of the bandit's belongings revealed the golden claw they were looking for, as well as a tattered journal. The last entry in it said something about a solution being in the palm of Edwin's hands if he had the claw, but apart from that there was nothing of use.

The rest of the barrow was filled with more draugr, most of whom were already awake and wandering around, and a few traps. After what felt like hours of walking down a seemingly endless series of near-identical hallways and chambers, they arrived in a long, wide hallway with elaborate carvings on all of its walls. At its end was a large stone door divided into three rings, each displaying the image of a different animal.

A quick examination of the claw revealed three animal symbols similar to those on the door, and after a bit of experimenting it became clear that the rings on the door could be rotated to match those on the claw. Once that was done, and the claw was fitted into the small holes at the door's center, it receded into the floor and revealed the largest chamber they'd come across so far.

It was largely empty until they reached the other side of it, where they found a large chest, a closed sarcophagus, and a wall covered in strange carvings. The wall seemed to be calling to Edwin somehow, and he found himself oddly uninterested in anything but being near it. As he drew closer, streams of light began to flow out of one of the carvings and wrap around him, until all he could see was light dancing around him. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the strange feeling stopped, and his vision returned to normal as something clattered across the floor and came to rest near his foot.

He turned around to find that the object was a sword, and a glance across the chamber revealed Marcel trying to fend off a draugr with only his dagger. The Dunmer seemed to be holding his own, but the draugr was able to use its greatsword to keep him well out of striking distance, and the Nord doubted he'd be able to continue dodging the draugr's strikes forever.

At that moment, Edwin decided that it was better to risk harming Marcel by attacking the draugr than to sit idly by and hope for a miracle and rushed to his companion's aid. The draugr was too focused on its current target to notice or care that he was rushing toward it, and the Nord successfully reduced it to a crumpled heap on the ground with a single swing of his hammer.

"Thanks," the Dunmer said, returning to the strange wall and reclaiming his sword.

"You're welcome," Edwin replied. It didn't fit the situation as well as he would have liked it to, but it still got the point across well enough.

"…You really aren't half bad with that thing, you know."

"Really?" the Nord asked, caught off guard by Marcel's drastic change of opinion on his fighting skill. Then again, he supposed his opinion of someone would change, too, if they went from nearly killing him to saving his life in a matter of hours.

"Really. You could be a great warrior if you found someone to train you."

"Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for; I'm just telling you the truth. If your father was too blind to see that, that's his problem."

Edwin had no idea what to say to that, simply nodding in response, but he couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face as he searched through the large chest near the sarcophagus the draugr had emerged from. He'd never been given that kind of praise before, and for the first time in his life he actually felt as though he really could make a real warrior of himself. It was definitely something he hoped he'd feel again, even if it had come from a Dunmer instead of one of his countrymen.

He found the Dragonstone in the chest, just as he'd hoped, and once he'd divided the rest of the chest's contents between him and Marcel, they made their way out of the barrow and into Skyrim's night air.

"So, what was so interesting about that wall back there?" the Dunmer asked once they'd found a place to make camp for the night.

"What do you mean?" Edwin asked. He couldn't have been distracted by it for more than a few seconds...

"It must have been something special if you thought it was more important that a sarcophagus flying open and a draugr chasing me across the room."

"I don't know," the Nord replied, sheepishly looking down at his feet. He didn't want to know what Marcel must have been thinking about him during that time. "There were streams of light everywhere, and the next thing I knew you were disarmed and fighting that draugr."

"That's strange… Maybe you just blacked out for a moment. It was fairly late, and this hasn't been a particularly easy day for either of us."

"You're probably right," Edwin said. At the very least, it made a lot more sense than a wall somehow controlling him. That sort of thing only happened in songs and legends, and he wasn't the sort of person who'd be in either of those.