It was such blissful relief to take a brief rest in between rounds of world-saving, in a serenely sleepy village, surrounded by familiar faces. Whistling contentedly to himself, Baldr made his way to the sawmill. As usual, Frodnar was the first to see him coming. The boy's trust had been a hard thing to gain - he remembered him backing away in fright, like a little beast of the wilds, when he saw his adored Uncle Ralof return to Riverwood in the company of High Elf, of all people - but now he and his dog were included in the long list of Baldr's best friends forever. The excited shriek 'Baldr is back! Baldr is back!' made the adults look up from their chores and hurry to greet the smiling, travel-worn elf, who was, as usual, clad in a full set of heavy armour and carrying an ebony sword at his side.

'So good to see you again!' Faendal cried, after Baldr relaxed his hearty embrace a little.

'Good to see you, friend! How's Camilla?'

'Oh, she's fine... I imagine she'll be at Lucan's now - arguing, as usual. He won't let her help him around the store, you know, now that, well...' Faendal coughed and blushed a little, 'But she says it's all nonsense, because it hasn't even been two months yet...'

'Now, now, Faendal,' said Gerdur in a mockingly scolding tone, coming up to them, 'You can discuss your future fatherhood later. What matters now is Baldr's epic quest - right, Baldr?'

'Right,' he echoed, somewhat reluctantly, since taking his mind off his epic quest was kind of one of the things he intended to do in Riverwood, 'I dropped by here on my way to Whiterun, actually. As my friend Irileth would have put it, we are catching ourselves a dragon'.

'Oh, yes,' Gerdur said interestedly, 'We heard about that treaty you had to make to have your way with Jarl Balgruuf. Been the talk of the whole hold for days'.

Baldr shuddered, 'That was horrible. I never suspected diplomacy could be so darn hard. I tried my best, by the gods I did, and yet somehow we ended up stuffing Riften even deeper into Maven Black Briar's pocket and giving Markarth away to those corrupt, conniving Silver-Bloods...'

'Look on the bright side,' Gerdur grinned cheerfully, 'At least, now that the Stormcloaks have Markarth again, they will give those Thalmor agents a proper kick in the proper place'.

Baldr's face fell. 'Yes... You are right...' he said dully, his expression little short of thunderstruck, 'A proper kick in the proper place... Gerdur,' he added unexpectedly, a great deal louder and livelier, 'You care for Ralof, don't you? And he cares for you, right? So, if he was in a tight scrape, would you help him out?'

She snorted, 'What kind of question is that? Of course I would! He is my brother, for Shor's sake!'

'And supposing,' Baldr went on with feverish urgency, 'Supposing you cared about Ralof, and Ralof cared about you - or so it would seem judging from a fit of drunken frankness - but, at the same time, he was a stuck-up freak intent on rooting out everything you hold sacred... Would you help him out then?'

Gerdur frowned, 'That's kind of hard to imagine... But I know of an old Nord saying: there is honour in being loyal to someone for something, but there is also honour in being loyal to someone despite something'.

Baldr grabbed her abruptly by the hand and gave it a vigorous shake, 'Your lips to the gods' ears!' And without further ado, he raced away from his startled little circle of friends.

Before leaving Riverwood, he paused on the bridge and called out, putting his hands to the sides of his mouth to be heard over the noise of the mill, 'Before I run off: will one of you guys do me a favour and send word to Whiterun that they will have to put off the dragon-catching for a while? I am catching a carriage for Markarth!'