(AN: Lol, you're updating too fast! Oh well, I felt as though I couldn't get them out fast enough, so I'll take my time with this one. Thank you again for your reviews. I haven't ruled that out, just not in this chapter.)


Esbern of the Blades

Mjoll and Eirik went about hiding the bodies from their encounter. They were still in Thieves Guild territory and couldn't afford anything that could be traced back to them once they were gone. They didn't speak to each other while they hid the bodies, but once all was clear, and they had cleaned blood off their hands, Mjoll asked the obvious question.

"So, friend, what brings you down here?"

"I'm looking for someone," Eirik replied.

"He must be a terrible person, if he makes his home in the Ratways," Mjoll said. "Either terribly poor or one of the Thieves Guild."

"I don't exactly know," Eirik said. "But I know he's in the Warrens, and the Guild is..."

"The Warrens?" she repeated. "By the Nine, there is no worse place to go in all of Riften than the Warrens. Plainly put, it is one step away from Oblivion."

"That bad, huh?"

"It is a cavern of rock built into the very foundations of Riften," Mjoll began. "The sun's light never shines down there. Riften jail is a finer place than the Warrens, where the skeevers and reprobates cling to the shadows."

"I have to go in there," Eirik reaffirmed. "My friend is in danger. I overheard Maven saying that she wanted him found and killed."

"Killed?" Mjoll asked. "This is an odd play, even for her. The Thieves Guild have not been known to kill people."

"Well, they almost killed me," Eirik said, gesturing to his face.

"Good point," Mjoll nodded. "So, shall we go on, then?"

"'We?'"

"Don't think for a moment that I'm going to let you walk into the Warrens all by yourself."

"I can take care of myself."

"I beg to differ," she replied. "You were almost killed before I showed up. Besides, I've lived here longer than you have. I can be of use to you..."

"Fine," Eirik sighed. "You can come with me, but only to show me the way."

"You know," Mjoll said. "It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to show some humility every now and then. I did rescue you just now."

"I was doing just fine,"

"If by fine you were about to die," Mjoll commented. "We Nords have always been known to be proud, but you mustn't let it go to your head. We all need help sometimes. I'm not afraid to admit that I needed help, and Aerin helped me. I am forever grateful to him."

"Can we please keep it down?" Eirik whispered. "If the Warrens are as bad as you say they are, I'd like to go in secret."

"Oh, right," Mjoll whispered.


The Warrens were indeed dark: darker, in fact, than Mjoll had described them. The faint torch-light, flickering and sputtering as anyone passed them by, was barely enough to dispel the gloom an arm's length from its source. Though they both held torches, they could scarce see much farther than a few feet before them. To make things worse, they were fully aware that they were not alone. But with the dim light, any number of foul creatures or pick-pockets might be scurrying about their feet or crawling up behind them, and they would not be aware of their presence until it was far too late.

The two of them came to a place where the stone walls closed all around them. It felt truly like a dungeon here. There were even iron grates closing off certain passageways. But in the dark, Eirik realized, he could sense other things more clearly, or at least he was aware of them more than usual. He could hear foot-steps down a hallway nearby, and voices speaking in Altmeri. He recognized the dialect from the embassy. They were here, inside the Warrens. While he could not speak or understand Altmeri, there were scant words in Nordic that he could understand.

"Thalmor," he whispered to Mjoll. "They've come for Esbern. We should go in cautiously."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because they're the Thalmor," Eirik said. "They have the Empire as their lap-dogs, and it wouldn't be well for the Empire to destroy Riften if one of the Thalmor die in your city's borders."

"Oh, right."

From the halls, the sound of whispering was now becoming louder. They were dividing up into groups, for the two Nords could hear a couple of footsteps every now and then take off and disappear. For one moment, they heard a voice chanting an incantation, and then the crackle of lightning.

"It sounds as though they've come thoroughly prepared," Mjoll said. "They have mages."

"Do you think that scares me?" Eirik whispered back. "I slew a dragon."

"The one at Helgen?" Mjoll asked.

"No, outside of Whiterun," he replied.

Suddenly, he heard one of the Thalmor halt and their footsteps became quiet.

"I'll buy you a drink and tell you the rest of the story," Eirik said. "If we get out of here alive, that is."

"There he is!" an Altmer voice shouted. "It's the agent of the Blades!"

But the Thalmor had little chance once he saw his foe. Eirik ran towards him, running him through with his great-sword. So great was his charge that he lifted the thin-framed Thalmor up off the ground. Then he pushed him off, and heard his body hit the ground some ways below him. Apparently, there was some kind of stair just before them that went downward.

There was a flash of light and all of Eirik's muscles seized up at one moment. His hands were shaking violently, but he was able to turn his face towards where the flash had come from. There would not be a second one.

"Fus...Ro Dah!" he shouted.

The voice of a Thalmor crying out and then hitting the stone wall hard sounded in the dark. But his opponents still outnumbered him. What's more, they had magic on their side and could sense that their opponent was weaker.

"Ha! You wish to defeat me?" a Thalmor voice strained. "Impossible!"

Suddenly, Eirik felt something strike against his armor. His hand reached out and felt something clad in silken robes: definitely not Mjoll. Instinct, more than anything else, told him to use his enemy against him. With his other hand, he seized the body of the Thalmor and dragged it before him. In that moment, the cavernous tunnel was illuminated by another flash of light. Eirik's hands buzzed and tingled painfully, but he was not harmed this time. But that burst of lightning had given away his enemy. He drew out his sword and, trying to remember where the wall and the stairs had been, ran his way down them with his sword in his right hand and his left hand groping for the wall.

"Behold the future, Nordic dog!" shouted the Thalmor mage. "Elven supremacy is the only truth! Down, cur! Grovel at the feet of your masters!"

Eirik was seething as he made his way through the dark. He could hear the elf breathing nervously. She knew, apparently, that her time had come. He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands.

"You think you've won?" the Thalmor sneered. "Stupid Nord! Our agents are scouring the Warrens. By one stroke or another, you and your Blades will die!"

The elf never spoke another word again. Following the voice, Eirik swung his sword. It was dark and he missed his mark, but he could still feel the weight of a dead body dragging down his sword. His torch, unfortunately, had been discarded once the fighting had begun. Mjoll came up behind, her own torch in hand, and cast light upon the grim scene. Eirik's sweep had dug into the Thalmor's head at the mouth. It looked wide and grim, but the head hadn't come off. Eirik turned his attention to the soldier, lying forsaken on the ground. He had only been shocked and, Eirik guessed, had probably survived. If the Thalmor mage had been correct and there were others in the Warrens, he could not afford letting them know where they were, and this soldier would surely give away their location.

He dove the blade of his great-sword into the soldier's body, twisting it slightly as he brought it back out. It came out with a sickening slurch.

"Masters my ass," Eirik said, sheathing his great-sword.


Eirik and Mjoll continued more or less without encounter for a long space of time. But the lack of sunlight was starting to tell on both of them. Any fire or torch seemed painfully bright, bringing tears to their eyes. The poor down here were mostly blind and they only spoke in whispers to themselves, with no directions to give. Eventually, Eirik was groping along the walls as though he himself were blind. He felt cold stone for most of the time, until he had gone down at least two levels of stairs. Then he reached a dead end with a door. He knocked at the door, but an old man's voice told him to go away.

"Esbern? Is that you?" Eirik asked. "Open this door, I'm a friend."

"Who?" the old man asked. "No, I'm not Esbern. You must be mistaken, I have no idea who you're talking about!"

"Delphine sent me to find you," Eirik replied.

"Ha! A likely story!" the old man grumbled back.

"'Remember the 30th of Frostfall,'" Eirik said.

There was silence for a moment, only the skittering and squeaking of skeevers down in the farther tunnels could be heard, or the dripping of water from the lake into the Warrens.

"What did you say?" the old man asked.

"'Remember the 30th of Frostfall,'" Eirik repeated.

"Delphine told you this, did she?" the old man asked. "She's alive? Come in, sir! Tell me how you found me and what you know."

"Uh, yes, about that..."

"Oh, don't worry, this will just take a moment," the old man replied. From behind the door, Eirik could hear the old man fumbling with keys that ground in the rusty lock of the door. One after another, the old man attempted to open the door with his keys, with each one failing. At last he found the right one and pulled the door open with a grinding screech.

"There we are," the old man said. "Come in, come in! Make yourself at home. We can talk in here, too many ears outside."

The two walked into the room, and found that it was well-lit with a candle that was more or less easy on their eyes than the torches had been. In its dim light, Eirik could see an old bald man with a gray beard and heavy bags under his eyes.

"Esbern, I presume?" Eirik asked, taking a seat upon a table with an empty mead keg on it.

"Aye, I am Esbern," the old man nodded. "So, Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years? Bah, it's a lost cause. I told her that years ago, thought she would have realized that by now. The end has come, and I'm sick and tired of running."

"But the Thalmor..."

"So what about the Thalmor, huh?" Esbern retorted. "Let them find me, if they can."

"But why give up?" Eirik asked.

"Why give up? I've been in here for years and yet I can see the truth; are you that blind, son?" Esbern began. "Alduin the Destroyer has returned, just as the prophecy foretold. It was foretold that he would come back at the end of the world, devouring the souls from this world as well as from Oblivion and Sovngarde: nothing would be safe from his hunger, not even the dead. I tried to tell them, but the fools wouldn't listen." He sighed. "All I can do now is watch as our doom approaches. It is said that the Dragonborn could be the one to stop Alduin, but there hasn't been a Dragonborn for centuries. The gods, it seems, have finally grown tired of our presumption and constant b*tching and have left us to the mercy of the World-Eater."

The old man's words hung on the thick air, making the gloom seem all the more real. For Mjoll, it seemed as though she had come to a time she would rather not have seen. True enough, she knew little of the legends of dragons, but all Nords knew the tale of how the end would come at the hands of a dragon. Now, it seemed, she was doomed to be born at the forefront of the end of ages.

For Eirik, it was a different story.

"It's not hopeless, Esbern," he said. "I am the Dragonborn."

Silence followed as Esbern studied the tall Nord sitting before him.

"Can it really be true?" he murmured, stroking his beard pensively. "Dovahkiin...Dragonborn." His expression suddenly changed to amazement. "Ha! Then there is hope! The gods haven't abandoned us yet!"

With surprising vigor for one so old, Esbern ran to the trunk at the end of a bed on the far-side of the room and started packing what little things he had.

"We must go, now!" Esbern cried. "Take me to Delphine, we have much to discuss! I'll just gather my things and then I'll be ready."

"As you wish," Eirik nodded. "But we are being followed."

"Aye, I remember!" Esbern retorted. "I'm only half-deaf. But we mustn't leave anything pertinent for the Thalmor to find!" A few more moments of search followed, with Mjoll and Eirik keeping watch on the door. At last he arrived, strapping a dagger sheath to his belt.

"A dagger?" Eirik asked in disbelief.

"Huh?" Esbern replied. "You'll have to speak up, I'm a little deaf in my right ear."

"A dagger?!" Eirik nigh shouted.

"Well, of course a dagger!" Esbern said. "I've been in hiding, I can't be carrying a great-sword about like yourself, Dragonborn. Now come on, what are you waiting for?"

"Wait!" Eirik hissed. "Did you hear that?"

"I can't hear much of anything, boy!" Esbern grumbled.

"It sounded like..."

"...heard something from over here!" a voice distantly said.

Both Eirik and Mjoll drew their weapons, as they soon heard the sound of footsteps running towards them. They were trapped, with no way to go but forward, and that way most likely being the direction from which battle would come. But as they waited, Eirik could guess, by the sound of the number of feet, there were more than three of their enemies before them.

"Halt, Nord maggots!" a voice commanded from out of the darkness. "You've come too far. It's time to end this game. Hand over the old man and we'll consider sparing your lives."

"Don't listen to them," Esbern replied. "They slaughtered the Blades and started this damn war!"

One of the Thalmor laughed. "Foolish old man, you're a conquered people. You should have realized that long ago and laid down in your grave. We are the future!"

"You Thalmor talk too much," Eirik said.

"Insolent dog!" the Thalmor returned and, in the darkness, the sound of a sword being drawn was heard.

In that direction, Eirik swung his great-sword in a mighty arc. It struck flesh. He brought the sword up and swung it horizontally, only to feel it clang off something that wasn't stone. He pushed forward, but the Thalmor pushed against him. He could hear someone moving at his left, then Mjoll give a shout and she engaged the enemy as well. It was difficult fighting in the dark, for one miscalculated swing of the sword might lop off Esbern's head, or Mjoll's. Instead of wide arcs, Eirik decided that he would have greater success with his own strength.

Grasping the blade of his great-sword with his left hand, he gave it a mighty thrust forward and could hear the Thalmor stumbling backward. He heard another clang against his sword, then angled it forward and thrust the pommel. It connected with the Thalmor's face, and he could hear a muffled groan. Eirik then gave a lurch forward as he felt a sword banging against his armor. A cry was heard and then an elf's voice moaning in pain and an ax-blade being ripped from out of a body. Three down. One of the Thalmor nearby shouted, but his voice was muffled. His nose was broken. Eirik walked towards him, turned his sword's blade towards the elf, and thrust forward, impaling the elf in one swift blow. Four down.

"Down!" Mjoll shouted.

Eirik ducked, just in time as a sword swung over his head, stirring up the dead wind above him. But that was what he needed. He thrust the sword blade backwards, and a Thalmor cried out as he collapsed to the floor, tripping in a pool of his own blood: what was left of his right leg had fallen over on its side. Eirik punched the fallen elf five times, who finally let go of his sword. With one hand, Eirik took the elf's sword and thrust it into his face. Just then, Eirik felt a heavy body fall on top of him. He shrugged it off, then turned his blade towards the one who had fallen on top of him: the body did not move. Six down.

"You can thank me for that, Dragonborn!" Esbern laughed. "He was coming up behind you with a knife, so I gutted him instead."

"Well done," Eirik thanked.

"Time for thanks later," Mjoll said. "I can hear more of them."

"Stand back, everyone," Eirik said, sheathing his mighty great-sword. "I might not be a mage, but I know at least this much."

Esbern and Mjoll stood back, while Eirik held out his hands before him. Two spouts of flame shot out of his open palms, illuminating the whole corridor. At their feet lay eight bodies of Thalmor: one had been cut in half by Eirik's blade, another had been hacked in two by Mjoll's ax, there was the one who had been impaled, and next to him lay the leg-less elf with his own sword in his face. Just behind Eirik was the one who had been stabbed by Esbern, and about Mjoll lay three more Thalmor, all of them missing limbs or bleeding profusely.

Before them charged a whole battalion of Thalmor, armed to the teeth. A few of them were sorcerers as well, weaving spells and casting enchantments on their fellows. But Eirik had not only illuminated the corridor; he had created a wall of fire between the Thalmor and them. Those in front were running so swiftly that they fell head-long into the fire. Those behind them tried to halt, but were pushed by the speed of those behind them and were pushed in as well. At the rear-guard, three officers and a mage ran over the corpses of their burning brethren, not even pulling them out of the fire or trying to save them, and charged at the Nords.

It would have been disastrous, had they remained in one place. But they were not as foolish as the Thalmor believed them to be. Under Esbern's suggestion, they had fallen back and were now making their way back through the tunnels of the Ratway Warren, hoping to find the right way back into the city.

"This is a maze, though!" exclaimed Mjoll. "We might lose the Thalmor, but we ourselves will be lost as well."

"Maybe you might be lost...surface-dweller," Esbern replied, gasping as he ran behind them. "As for me...I've been down here...for quite some time. This way!"

They followed Esbern, all the while hoping that they would not be lost, or that the Thalmor would not catch up to them. But as they ran, soon Mjoll and Esbern found themselves in the lead. At Mjoll's insistence, they halted and searched for Eirik. They did not have to search long: they found him leaning up against one of the walls of the corridor.

"Come, Dragonborn!" Esbern insisted. "The Thalmor won't wait for us to catch our breath!"

"I can't-I can't go on," sighed Eirik.

"It's not like a Nord to be so short-winded," Esbern reminded Eirik.

"Sweet Mara!" Mjoll exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, we had forgotten."

"What?"

"Your wounds," Mjoll said to Eirik. "How foolish of me to forget."

"Can you stand?" Esbern asked.

"Give him a moment to rest!" Mjoll insisted.

"I won't let the Thalmor kill the last Dragonborn!" Esbern sternly replied.

"I can stand," Eirik groaned, pushing himself to his feet. "But I can't run very far."

"Here," Mjoll said, taking one of Eirik's arms on her shoulders. "We'll carry you. Esbern, the other arm."

"I really shouldn't be doing this at my age," murmured the old man as he hefted Eirik's huge arm onto his shoulders. They started off again, but their pace was markedly slower. Esbern swore beneath his breath.

"This just won't do," he said. "We're moving too slow."

"I'm not leaving him behind," Mjoll said.

"Well, neither will I, but we just can't seem to escape fast en..." Esbern paused for a moment. The sound of his hand clasping his bald forehead was heard in the darkness. "What an ass! It's so simple!"

"What's simple?" Eirik asked.

"The Ratways lead out to Lake Honrich," Esbern explained. "That's our way out!"

"But you don't know if that's safe or not, I mean, for him, in this condition!" Mjoll argued.

"It might be our only option," Esbern stated.

They ran on, with a definite objective yet no way of knowing if they were going thither. All they were doing for certain was evading the Thalmor, for they went as far from the sound of pursuit as possible. They were definitely going somewhere different than the bottom of the Warrens, for they could see torch-light flickering steadily just up ahead. If the torches had been in the hands of someone like the Thalmor, it would be flickering with the pursuit. Triumphantly, they charged into the light, finding themselves in the Ragged Flagon. It was then that they remembered that they had more potential enemies on their trail than just the Thalmor.

"We've come in a circle," Mjoll stated.

"But just where we need to be," Esbern replied. "This way!"

With Eirik between their shoulders, Mjoll followed Esbern's lead down to the 'basement' level of the Ragged Flagon. Here, illuminated by the yellow glow of torches, was what looked like a secret dock underneath the city of Riften. Every so often, on the posts of the dock, was carved the circle within the diamond in white paint. This was a Thieves Guild dock, built and run surely for the most clandestine of operations. So great was their control over Riften, as Mjoll had told Eirik, yet this secret dock suggested a whole new level of secrecy, one that dared not trust even Maven Black-Briar, who claimed to have the Jarl and most of Riften in her pocket already.

"There they are!" a voice shouted from behind.

"Jump!" Esbern shouted, and they, as one man, leaped into the water of the Thieves Guild secret dock.


(AN: Ugh, I hate writing fights. They play out well on-screen, but on page I have to literally write down every move each of the players make, it's so tedious. Hopefully that last bit was long enough for you. I had in mind the main character from Ironclad for how Eirik fights in close quarters, but also in general later on. The whole scene with the great-sword really was a big inspiration, for me, for how Eirik moves and fights. Just seems really bad-ass.)

(Maybe it was a bad choice on my part, but in the game, I chose not to kill Paarthurnax, so all I had from Esbern was this mission and "Alduin's Wall." Whether or not I'll keep to that outcome in this game, I cannot yet say. However, if I do, I want Esbern to have more in this story than just that, so we obviously got to see more of him. Hope his depiction was accurate enough, and the rest of this chapter was long enough for you [sometimes it feels like I'm whipping a dead horse with the description, so I end up writing a two-line paragraph, sorry]. I thought Eirik's endurance held out well. He got beat up by two strong enemies [Dirge and Maul] and then did some hard-core fighting, while wounded. Don't you think he would be exhausted after that?)