16/09/18: Another update...! This one took longer, but I was preparing for uni, so at least I have an excuse ;)
Disclaimer: I own no one but Ira. Everything else belongs to Tolkien.
A/N: Okay, BIG apologies for the long gap. I moved house a week ago and we've only just had our WiFi set up -_-
Big thanks to: Argontep, Icebite, Prick Nugget, MichaelMarxxMann, Rhovania, NotSoSlimSh4dy and clumsylittlekitten for favouriting/following.
Review response(s)
ww1990ww: Not necessarily Aedra or Daedra, but someone else will be introduced in Rivendell (minor spoiler! (Sorry)). Ira's a very stubborn person. What'll probably happen is she'll warm up to the Rivendell elves, but when it comes to Thranduil's people, she'll hate them a lot, mainly because they're not so different from Skyrim High Elves (aka, the Aldmeri Dominion).
Vieral: I like to think I have a good track record for completing things (some might disagree). I will do my best getting all the way through this. :)
Victor: I was always intrigued by the idea of a human dragon (does that even make sense?). Don't worry, Alduin will do plenty of grumbling (though a lot will be in his head).
Chapter 4:
Thorin clearly took the statement 'We leave at dawn' to be literal. The sun was only just beginning to poke its nose above the horizon when Ira was roughly shaken awake. She released a short grunt and waved her hand, silently shooing away whomever it was that had woken her, before peeling open her eyes and sitting up. Her back popped several times as she did.
After heading back into Bilbo's home the night before, several minutes after Kili had gone in, Ira had found that almost every free space had been claimed by the members of the dwarven Company. Without any other options, Ira had picked the flattest wall she could find (a difficult thing in a round house) and laid against it. Unfortunately, that resulted in her having a very stiff back, which sorely protested even the slightest twitch. Standing up was enough to send a grimace dancing across her features.
Since she had slept in her armour, and her bag had remained unopened throughout the course of the previous evening (except for when she was finding Alduin a sword), Ira had only to eat breakfast before she was ready to leave. The dining hall was full of grumpy, half-awake dwarves, slowly shovelling down bits of bread and cheese. Ira was sure they'd appreciate a more varied meal, but they had effectively cleared out Bilbo's pantry the night before. Frankly, the fact they'd found enough to feed all fifteen of them was something of a marvel.
Ira then spotted Alduin in a corner of the room, and was surprised when, upon approaching him, he held up an apple for her. With a quiet thank you, Ira accepted the fruit, taking a healthy bite. The two were silent as they observed the group before them slowly wake themselves up, both polishing their fruit and then two bread buns each in that time.
At length, Thorin stood from the table. "Let's go," he said, and the smial was suddenly filled with the unpleasant sound of a dozen scraping chairs. Ira was amongst the first to shoulder her bag and duck out of the little house.
Standing in front of her, head bowed over Bilbo's fence to get at his flowers, was Shadowmere. The black stallion with glowing red eyes had been her companion for centuries, being essentially the only constant in her life due to the fact he was undead. There were many things about him that made him special: he could run for hours on end without pause, and though he could die, he could also be summoned back from the Void to fight by her side once more. Shadowmere could communicate, too – a series of snorts or whinnies that somehow translated to words inside her head. The most amazing thing about him though, she thought, was that he had an uncanny ability to always appear when and where she needed him. Apparently that included travelling across worlds, as well.
Shaking her head in amusement, she approached her horse and gently stroked his long nose. "Shadowmere, my friend," she murmured, watching as his ears swivelled to listen to her, "you never cease to amaze me." He gave a snort, nuzzling against her hand. She laughed. "Yeah, I love you too, buddy."
She became aware of the Company filing past her, heading down the path. Many shot her horse suspicious looks, and gave the two of them a wide berth. She became aware of a presence behind her, and turned to see Alduin also giving the stallion a stiff look – one which Shadowmere returned.
"That thing is still alive." Alduin sounded distinctly disappointed.
Ira suddenly remembered that the first time she had faced Alduin, on the Throat of the World, Shadowmere had been there. He was fierce when he wanted to be, and had managed to severely damage the bones of one of Alduin's wings while he'd been distracted by Ira. Shadowmere had no love of dragons and, it seemed, the feeling was mutual.
"Yes, he's still alive," Ira answered, though that was an unnecessary comment. "And I want him to remain that way, is that clear? That goes for both of you." She gave both horse and dragon a sharp look, and while Shadowmere just stared back at her with an air of feigned innocence, Alduin rolled his eyes.
Muttering a few choice words under his breath, the dragon pushed past the two and followed the dwarves down the hill. With a huff, Ira grabbed Shadowmere's reins and began leading him along the path, the gentle clip-clopping of his hooves providing a sense of comfort to her.
About a mile down the road, they came across an inn, next to which was a stable full of the same small horses that Fili and Kili had been riding.
"What in Oblivion are those things?" Ira asked, eyeing the little, furry creatures curiously, even as she grabbed hold of Shadowmere and threw herself into the saddle.
"They're ponies," Bofur replied as he too mounted, the others starting to do the same behind him. "Haven't you seen a pony before?"
Slowly, Ira shook her head. "No, never. I guess ponies don't exist where I'm from. Just horses."
"Well, I suppose it makes sense," the hatted dwarf said cheerfully. "You'd have little need for a pony if the people in your world are all as tall as you are." He paused. "Are they? Do you have other species in your world, like dwarves?"
"There are other species in my world, yes," Ira supplied. "And we did have a race many called dwarves, but that was a long time ago."
"What do you mean?" Fili asked, pulling his pony up alongside Shadowmere as the group began to move out. Ira could feel the tension and excitement in the air, as if it were a physical presence.
"They disappeared," Alduin replied, making Ira jump. She hadn't noticed him drawing his horse alongside Shadowmere, and her horse hadn't given any indication that the dragon was nearby either. Even now, Shadowmere didn't so much as spare him a glance. "No one really knows what happened to them, but there are many theories."
"Like what?"
"The most popular is that the falmer revolted and killed them all," Ira explained. "The dwemer – our word for dwarves – are renowned in my world as being some of the best architects and scholars and scientists history has ever created. They created machines that continue to work even to this day, having long outlived their masters." She smiled. "Do not misunderstand the term, though. The dwemer were as tall as the rest of us. The prevailing theory for the source of their secondary name is that, somewhere in their history, they housed the native giants of our world. It was the giants who in turn began to call them dwarves. The dwemer are, in fact, a race of elves, like all mer."
Fili's expression twisted. "Mer?" he repeated. "Is that your word for elf, then?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Ira said thoughtfully. "The mer were all members of what we today call the Elder Races – the first to live in Tamriel. The races of men came to Tamriel from Atmora, a continent to the north and a great distance across the sea."
"How many races are there in your world?" Ori asked curiously, and she became aware that he had a book open in his lap.
She smiled. "Oh, many. The most… advanced races are those of men and mer, or so it is largely believed. There are currently four races of men, and five of mer. Each with different traditions and cultures to one another." She chuckled. "From what I can tell at first glance, the customs of my people are rather similar to those of yours." She shrugged. "I can't make much of a judgement just yet – I only met dwarves for the first time yesterday, after all."
There was a moment of silence from the dwarves, and Ira suddenly got the impression she had started probing at something best left alone.
Before she could open her mouth to apologise, however, Thorin spoke up from the front. "Chiefly, dwarves are blacksmiths and stoneworkers," he explained slowly. "There are few famed warriors from our race, but we are best known by the world as great craftsmen."
It was all he gave her, but it was enough. Ira hummed. "Perhaps, then, you are more akin to the orsimer of Nirn. They too are craftsmen, and are among some of the finest warriors you can find. My own experiences with them have told me they have a great talent for remaining level-headed in battle and endure hardships with unflinching determination. Orcish steel is–"
"Orcish?!" Thorin snarled, whirling on her. "Do not compare the dwarves to orcs."
Ira blinked. "Why not? I meant it only as a compliment."
"There are orcs in this world as well," Gandalf piped up. "While you may have meant well, to be compared to an orc in Middle Earth is a severe insult indeed. They are the very definition of evil, striking without thought or mercy. They have no love of life."
Ira nodded. "Forgive me," she said, directing her words towards Thorin, who was still glowering at her. "The orcs of Skyrim are a noble, proud race. I did not mean to offend."
After a long pause, Thorin gave a sharp nod, and turned his back to her.
Again, there was an awkward pause. Then Ori piped up once more, voice innocent in his curiosity. "What other creatures does Nirn have, Lady Ira?"
Ira pulled a face. "Okay, first off, please drop the 'Lady' thing. I… really don't like it when formalities are used with me." Ori nodded in agreement. "As for your question," she continued, "we have all sorts. Giants. Wolves. Sabre cats. Trolls–"
"Trolls?" Kili repeated. "We have those too. Can the trolls in your world also not go out in sunlight?"
Ira shrugged. "They can, but most of them prefer to stay in cave or other underground places. They're not the easiest beasts to kill, unfortunately, because attacking them with swords is almost useless. They heal incredibly quickly, so, unless you can get close enough to cut off its head, chances are you'll do nothing more than make it angry."
"Then how do you kill it?"
"With fire," she replied, grinning. "They have a special weakness to fire."
Kili frowned. "So… you have to always have a torch with you?"
Ira chuckled. "No, not always. But I sometimes bring companions with me on my journeys, and most of them have enough basic arcane knowledge to summon a simple flame spell."
"Flame spell," Balin said musingly. "We have magic in this world; a deep magic indeed. But to wield it with such ease… Such things are rare here, yet you speak of them with familiarity. Yours must be a strange world indeed to have magic so freely available."
Ira frowned. "Well… it is what it is, I suppose. What is strange to you is normal to me, and it is likewise also the same in reverse." Her thoughts immediately turned to the weather here. This world was far too hot for her liking; the sun shining, the breeze gentle and warm. She was used to the harsh cold of the snow, the bite of the wind on her cheeks. Her thick, dark armour wasn't helping her to stay cool, either. Still, stubborn as she was, she refused to swap it for something else. It was special to her. Meaningful. A little discomfort would not be enough to get her to drop it.
"Ira?"
Blinking, Ira faced the young dwarf with the knitted clothing, her expression apologetic. "Sorry," she said. "I must have zoned out. I was just… thinking of home."
"Do you miss it?" Fili asked her.
Ira nodded slowly. "I do," she admitted. "I know I've been here only a few days, but… Skyrim is my home. I've only been away from it a few times in my life, and even then, it was for no more than a week or two." She smiled. "There is a beauty to my homeland, even though it is cold and harsh. Skyrim is a part of me, and I will always miss her while I'm away."
"Though, no doubt, you do not miss all the responsibilities you have," Gandalf piped up from the back of the line, an amused smile on his aged face.
Ira rolled her eyes. "Well, yes, I suppose that is a relief. Though most of my responsibilities have disappeared over the years."
Kili cocked his head to the side, asking her, "What do you mean by that?"
"It's a bit of a long story," Ira stated, half of her wanting to move the conversation on to a different topic. She had little desire to spin this tale – especially given how many times she'd done so in the past.
"We have a lot of time," the young dwarf pointed out. "Why don't you share?"
Ira shared a glance with Alduin, whose face was set like stone and whose eyes were cold. Still, after a second, he released a quiet sigh through his nose and nodded his head.
With a sigh of her own, Ira turned back to the curious dwarven Company. "In my world, the Dragonborn is something of a legend. A great warrior who shares the blood and soul of the dov – dragonkind – and yet possesses the body of a mortal. I am not the only one to have lived in my world. Miraak was the first, to the knowledge of the world, and he lived several thousand years ago. I am the last. There were some, in world, who knew that the dragons would be returning after the Dragon War ended. The Akaviri people left a stone carving in one of their old temples – Alduin's Wall, it was called. Part history, part prophecy. It spoke of the return of the World-Eater; a great, black dragon. Of the Last Dragonborn – a single individual, gifted with the same powers held by the dragons themselves, who would rise up to fight against the World-Eater to ensure the world's continued survival.
"Well, Alduin returned, as promised. In the Dragon War, he was not defeated as everyone thought, but rather sent forward in time. Upon his return, he began raising his kin from the dead, as in the Dragon War there had been no Dragonborn present to ensure their deaths remained permanent. Dragons were quickly terrorising the whole province, and it fell to me to defeat them. To do so, I had to make friends. A lot of friends. Friends that gave me responsibilities I didn't think I was ready for, nor even really wanted. A lot of those have dwindled over the years, but I still hold some. Well…" She paused. "Held. I can't imagine I'll have any of them left after this quest. Even if I do go back, I'll no doubt have been missing for months by that point, so I-"
"Do you ever stop talking?" Alduin snapped, cutting her off rather abruptly.
Ira rolled her eyes. "Well, someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"How long ago was it that you killed him?" Thorin asked from the front, bringing the conversation back around.
Calmly meeting his gaze, the brunette answered quite firmly. "523 years ago."
"And could it be that, in these long years, your abilities have… waned?"
Ira snorted. "I very much doubt it. Even though the dragons are mostly gone in my world, it doesn't mean there aren't other beasts that pose a threat. I've been wielding a sword for centuries, and haven't gone longer than about a month without having to make use of it. I know how to fight. And fighting dragons is just like fighting any other creature – you just have to know their weak spots and create the opportunities you need to exploit them. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Time has not changed that."
"Yesterday," Fili piped up, and Ira had to hold back from releasing a small groan of frustration at all their incessant questions, "you said that you absorbed a dragon's soul when you killed it. What is that… like, exactly?"
Ira's face darkened and dropped immediately. Alduin shot her a look, not expecting that sudden change. Looking closer, he realised there was actually a hint of sadness in her eyes. "My soul is that of a dragon," she told them, her voice smaller now. "Every time I slay one of those things, it feels like I'm killing a brother. For a moment I feel this crushing guilt, and then I grow cold. Numb, even. After Alduin was gone, I never actively sought out a dragon. But they would somehow always find me, and I'd be forced to act."
No one said a word after that. No one dared to do so, recognising that Ira was no longer in the mood to talk. So silence came over them, as they made their way slowly out of the borders of Hobbiton, the mood somewhat worse than how cheerful it had once been.
Eventually, the dwarves started talking amongst themselves again, and it wasn't before the air was once again filled with laughter. The group had decided to bet on whether or not they thought Bilbo would be joining them. Though Ira very much doubted that septims, the only type of gold she had on her, would be of any value here, she was determined to bet. After selling two of her daggers to Fili in exchange for some gold, she placed a chunk of it into the betting pool. She made sure she had some left over, however – just in case she would need to buy something later. Even so, her bet was still a good three times larger than the largest bet before her, and had caused something of an uproar among the group. Only Dwalin agreed to match her bet, a crooked grin on his face as he did so. Ira just smirked back, feeling rather confident in her choice.
Regardless of the others' lack of faith in him, Ira was convinced that the little hobbit would join him. He had been seriously considering the proposal, whether he himself knew it or not, and she had a feeling his curious, adventurous 'Took' side (as Gandalf called it) would win out in the end.
Sure enough, as they were passing through a wooded area, there were shouts over the clop of many hooves. "Wait! Wait!"
With a smug grin on her face, Ira pulled Shadowmere to halt alongside all the other ponies, and turned back to see Bilbo running towards them, his contract flapping in the wind behind him. Ira's eyebrows rose. Had he run all the way from Hobbiton just to catch up? He looked exhausted, and was panting, but the fact he'd managed to run so far was admittedly impressive.
The hobbit came to a halt beside Balin, managing to squeeze out, "I signed it!" while lifting his trembling arm to pass it up.
Balin accepted the contract, pulled out a pocket-glass, and carefully inspected it. A kind smile appeared on his face. "Everything appears to be in order," he announced. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."
At least half of the dwarves let out whoops and cheers, regardless of how they had voted in their bet. A few had stony expressions, and Thorin was worst of all – he looked distinctly unimpressed, like he had hoped Bilbo wouldn't come. Still, he barked out the order for Bilbo to be given a pony.
Looking quite alarmed, with wide and frightened eyes, the little hobbit tried in vain to protest. "No, no, no, no, no, no, that won't be necessary."
Rolling her eyes, Ira grabbed the reins of a spare pony and brought it forward as Bilbo continued rambling on about holidays of some kind and, with the help of Fili and Kili, hauled him onto the pony's back. Bilbo looked hallway between angry and terrified.
"I think you'll be grateful for the ride before long, Bilbo," she said with a sympathetic smile. "We still have a long way to go yet."
Bilbo huffed. "If I fall off this thing, I'm blaming it entirely on you," he grumbled. Ira just grinned in response, and turned her head forward again without a word.
