Runa met Vilkas in the marketplace at midday. Danica had found her a travelling cloak and a serviceable pair of calfskin boots for the trip but Vilkas was garbed quite differently. Instead of the plain clothes he'd worn to the temple he was outfitted in a set of ornamented steel armor, it was newly polished but had obviously seen him through many battles. She studied it for a while as they walked down to the stables, it was more a work of art in her eyes than anything. It even had the realistic likeness of a wolf head crafted masterfully onto the breastplate. Against her better judgement, Runa let her eyes wander upward to his face.
Beneath an untidy mop of black hair he had a strong face, although his square jaw coupled with his cold eyes made him look more than a bit unkind. She decided it was a good face, he had saved her and now he was helping her again, he must be a good person. She noticed a muscle in his jaw tightening and looked away quickly, afraid he had noticed her gaze.
Vilkas had haggled with the cart driver a bit over their fare but since then he hadn't spoken. She had tried to make conversation, asking about anything she could think of but his answers had grown shorter and eventually he started ignoring her altogether. The only time he had spoken of his own volition was when they passed Fort Greymoor.
"That's where I found you," he said, gesturing to the ruined fortress.
She shivered knowing this must have been the same way her family had come on their way to Solitude. After that he lapsed back into silence and Runa stopped trying to make conversation.
Her fear soon left her though. This road was a busy thoroughfare to Whiterun, the central most city in Skyrim, and they passed all manner of travelers. Hunters, farmers and imperial soldiers were among the most common, but there were also pilgrims, sellswords and even a khajiit caravan selling their wares. She was fascinated that so many people had flocked to Skyrim despite the war. Her own family had come to this country so her father could ply his trade and arrange suitable marriages for herself and her sister. A blanket of worry had settled over her, she hoped desperately that her family would be waiting in Solitude just as worried for her as she was for them. The knot in her stomach said otherwise.
By the time the sun was setting they had been sitting on the rough wooden benches for so long that Runa thought her back and buttocks would be purple with bruises. The driver called a halt and they made camp next to the road. He chattered aimlessly about their road and a settlement called Rorikstead but his talk died out when the moons came up and the wolves started howling.
The next day dawned cold and crisp and as boring as the last. Thus far they were still traveling through the plains and tundra of Whiterun hold and the farther afield they went the more rural it became. The stream of people they'd shared the road with yesterday had dwindled to almost nothing by midday. Runa had begun to feel drowsy and was beginning to doze when a shout from Vilkas woke her with a start.
"Stop! Turn the wagon around and slowly head back the way we came," he barked. Runa looked around for the source of trouble but only saw a cow ambling up the road towards them.
"We're bound for Dragon Bridge," protested the driver. "You can't really mean to head back to Whiterun now, we're nearly to Rorikstead!"
Vilkas hopped out the wagon and drew his greatsword. "There's a giant up ahead you fool. Didn't you see the painted cow?"
As the cow came closer Runa began to see what he spoke of, great swirls of black paint covered the shaggy hair of the animal. She had no idea why that meant there was a giant nearby but the driver seemed to understand and finally turned the cart around. But it seemed he hadn't done it soon enough, a giant had come shuffling around the corner with it's great club resting on his shoulder. Runa had heard stories of giants as a child and had imagined them to be as tall as a tower, all the tales told of their famed cruelty. The reality was quite different, the creature was about twice the height of Vilkas, it wasn't immediately hostile but cast a wary eye on the warrior in front of it. When it didn't attack Vilkas put away his sword and showed his hands with the palms up in a gesture of peace. The giant nodded and continued on his way, bypassing the road and giving the wagon a wide berth.
Vilkas had been hoping the giant wasn't spoiling for a fight and thankfully his hope hadn't been false. The companions had defended Whiterun from the unruly creatures in the past but left well enough alone they were usually peaceful creatures. He stepped back up into the wagon only to see the girl gaping at him.
"What is it?"
"I've never...I haven't," she mumbled.
"What is it?" He spoke more forcefully this time, his temper barely in check.
"I've never seen a giant before. I didn't know they were so...small," she blurted.
Vilkas blinked stupidly a few times before it dawned on him that she must not be from Skyrim. The idea that she thought a giant to be small was so absurd, that he couldn't help but laugh. She looked as if he had grown another head when she heard his laughter but she smiled all the same.
"Why did he have a painted cow?" She asked when his laughter had finally died down.
"Farmers occasionally make offers of livestock to the giants so that they won't raid their farms," Vilkas replied. "The cow was painted so the giant would know it was an offering."
"Oh," she replied lamely. She didn't tell him about the childhood stories lest he think her a child.
They reached Rorikstead as evening set in and spent a more comfortable night at the inn. Runa noticed that Vilkas seemed more amiable than the previous day and the silence at supper was not so sullen and uncomfortable.
The next morning they left at first light and the road began to slant upward. The plains were behind them and the mountains were ahead, stony and silent.
Most of that day was quiet, they passed no travelers and saw no more giants. But as morning gave way to noon they began to see evidence of bandits. A farmer lay dead at a crossroads, his card overturned and everything of value gone. Further down the road they found a dead horse, still attached to it's splintered wagon, the driver was nowhere in sight. Vilkas made their driver stop and instructed him to head back to Rorikstead at any sign of trouble.
"Here, you may need this," he said, pulling a dagger from his belt. Runa thought he meant to give it to the driver but he handed it to her instead. And then he was off to scout ahead.
Vilkas came upon the camp about a half league from where he'd left the wagon. They had built on both sides of the road where it narrowed between two outcrops of rock. They had even built a bridge across the road to harry travelers from above. The archers nocked arrows at his approach and called warnings but he didn't heed them. He sprinted under the bridge, weaving to make a more difficult target. To the right of the road there was a gap in the rocks and a bandit in rusted iron armor stood guard. He cut the man down before he knew what was happening. The bandits had raised a crude wall of timber around their camp but the gate they had built had no strength to speak of so he threw his shoulder into it twice and it fell apart.
Once inside he was accosted by three more bandits, but they presented no more challenge than the guard. The archers proved to be more trouble, the cowards had retreated to the other side of the road and were fleeing toward the river. He gave chase but in the end they wound up drowned or broken on the rocks below the waterfall. Altogether it was a disappointment, he had barely broken a sweat and not one of them had withstood him.
Runa waited, on edge for Vilkas to return. When he finally came walking back up the road she let out an audible sigh.
"With this many hazards on the roads it's a wonder we've made it this far," she said as he climbed back into the wagon.
"Aye. The roads have never been this dangerous until now. The war is undoubtedly the reason for it," Vilkas replied. "The Jarls don't have enough men to patrol even around their cities let alone all the roads crisscrossing their holds."
After that they traveled in wary silence, always watching for signs of trouble. When the next town came into view, the tension lifted and wonder replaced it, the Dragon Bridge was a marvel of ancient craftsmanship.
"The Dragon Bridge has been here for much longer than the town," offered Vilkas. "They say it's a relic from the time that dragons roamed the skies of Tamriel."
"I would give anything to see a dragon," she said absentmindedly. Vilkas only chuckled.
They said goodbye to their wagon driver at Dragon Bridge, he had assured them that transport to Solitude could be arranged here but after he had gone they ran into another obstacle. The Penitus Oculatus had made the town their outpost and commandeered every horse for their use.
"It looks like we'll be walking the rest of the way to Solitude," said Vilkas. "The emperors guard is unlikely to yield up a horse even if we offer to buy it."
"How far is it?" Runa asked tentatively.
"It will probably take us a day on foot, but this stretch of road is well travelled so I don't anticipate any trouble. You'd best prepare for your feet to hurt though," he answered. "We'll spend the night here and set out in the morning."
Runa found that he had been more than right about her feet. She wasn't used to hard travel and her feet were covered in blisters and her legs burned and ached. It had been worth it though, they had reached Solitude before dark and she felt a weight lift as they entered the city. She felt certain that her family would be here and that the nightmare of the last few weeks was over.
