As soon as the battle lines hit, the world stopped making sense. Orderly ranks became isolated fights instantaneously. A Stormcloak charged Volund with his great sword held high above his head, swinging it down fast enough that the air whistled around it. Volund twisted to the side and brought his shield into the back of the man's head, knocking him forward into Volund's waiting blade. He caught a glimpse of Lydia fending off two soldiers, a man and a woman, but he couldn't get to her before another enemy cut him off, swinging a mace like a madman.
Volund backed up a step and raised his shield, angling it so that the mace bounced to the side rather than sinking into the metal. Exposed, the enemy could do nothing but scream as Volund's sword ended him.
Volund could hear Hrongar's war cries, coming from a surprising distance away. They were punctuated with the sound of blows from a warhammer on a shield. There was no sign of Lydia.
After the next Stormcloak he killed, a relatively short woman, Volund had a moment where, in one direction, all he could see was blue. He cried out, shouting unrelenting force into the enemy army and blowing them backward. Some landed on swords or broke their necks or backs when they fell, but many more took their places.
An arrow whizzed past his head, and Volund ducked, raising his shield. He looked out just in time to see the enemy archer die to an arrow from the bow of a Whiterun guard.
Suddenly, Lydia was at his side again, a bloody cut on her face and a fire in her eyes, throwing her shield in between him and the next assailant. While his housecarl dealt with one Stormcloak, Volund knocked aside the blade of another who had intended to kill her. The dragonborn killed the man with his shield, hitting his chin so hard his neck broke. The crowd of enemies had swept him apart from Lydia again in the meantime.
The battle raged on, back and forth, for what seemed like forever. In reality, it was probably not more than an hour. The sun was not yet high in the sky when a horn blew from outside the city, and the Stormcloaks began a retreat. Volund would have smiled, but he was barely on his feet.
He had been hit in the shoulder by an arrow, and forced to leave the battle only moments before. He now knelt down, fumbling with his good hand to remove the armor from his shoulder. That done, he clenched his teeth and pushed the arrow further in, grunting involuntarily at the blinding pain. The barbed head emerged from the other side of his shoulder, and he broke the shaft off, almost passing out. He rallied, pulled out the other half of the arrow from the other side, and folded in on himself.
Summoning his willpower again, he raised his one movable hand to the wound, releasing the gentle glow of a healing spell into the gory shoulder. He expected to run out of magicka long before it was healed, but hoped to at least stop the worst of the bleeding. He found himself with greater reserves than he had thought, however. The wound closed entirely, and his arm was usable again. Attributing it to battlefield adrenaline, he didn't give his increased magicka power a second thought. Instead, he rose to his feet, attempting to take stock of the losses.
Hrongar was covered in blood, but appeared healthy. Volund guessed it was all from his enemies. The man was trudging around the battlefield, checking Stormcloak bodies and mercy killing those who still lived.
Legate Rikke was reorganizing her scattered troops and taking an accounting of her own. Her helmet had been lost in the fray, and one of her arms looked bloody, but she ignored it like the seasoned soldier that she was.
And then, suddenly and almost out of nowhere, Lydia appeared at his side again. Her face was drawn with pain, but the first thing she did was give attention to the bloody mess at Volund's shoulder. When she realized the wound had been healed, she heaved a sigh of relief. When the arrow had hit, late in the battle, Lydia had fought like a berserker to keep the Stormcloaks off the wounded Dragonborn while he retreated. Her shield and the arm that had held it, Volund discovered, were both broken by a steel warhammer that had been intended for Volund's head.
Volund attempted to heal her arm, but his skill wasn't great enough to do any appreciable good. Giving up on that, he instead began to clear a path back inside the city, toward the temple of Kynareth and the healers that were set up within.
The city was full of chaos and fire and desperate energy born from simply being alive. Volund fought to clear a path wide enough that Lydia would not be bumped by anyone. Eventually they made it to the Cloud District and the temple. Whether by the protection of Kynareth, or some other cause, the temple had not been damaged in the battle, and the healers were working frantically within and around it. Volund was tempted to use his rank to call one over for Lydia immediately, but she stopped him.
"It's just a broken arm, my thane," she gasped. "No hurry for me. They're still trying to save lives right now." She walked toward an unoccupied corner and sat down, exhaustion and pain evident on her face. "I'll be fine here until they have time for me, my thane."
He wanted to stay with her, but her rebuke had reminded him of the other needs around them. He nodded at her, and went back outside the city gates.
Many dead Legionnaires and guards scattered the ground, but the Stormcloaks had been at a disadvantage in the fight, and there were nearly twice as many casualties wearing blue. Bodies lay where they fell, sometimes piled two or three high. The place already stunk badly, and trying to find living allies was a nightmare, but Volund and many others worked at it nevertheless. He found several, and helped carry the most urgent cases one by one to the healers in the city. On one trip, the local alchemist flagged him down, along with another guard, asking for their help in carrying her latest, desperately brewed batch of healing potions to the makeshift hospital. Volund handed them out to the wounded who were still conscious enough to drink.
The day wore on. By evening, all the fires had been put out, and the critically injured were either healed or dead. The jarl had addressed the soldiers and the city, thanking them for their sacrifice and promising them recovery. Horse- and oxen-drawn wagons were at work hauling the dead bodies out of the city and its surroundings, and lumber for the mass funeral pyres was already starting to accumulate.
After the fires and destruction, more than a few people would be without a home for many nights to come, but with or without a bed, most were slowing down for the night. Almost everyone in the city had been awake and hard at work for nearly two days straight, and it was beginning to catch up with them.
Lydia, arm fully healed, had found Volund splashing his face with water from the city's streams near the base of the stairs to Dragonsreach. He looked up as she approached. Both of them were filthy, mud and dried blood crusting their armor and skin, but they smiled and then laughed anyway, glad to be alive. Unable to stop himself, Volund picked up Lydia, armor and all, and spun around in a circle. She shrieked, surprised, but theirs was not the only joyful celebration of the day, and no one who saw it seemed to begrudge them their happiness. Lydia muttered something about impropriety, but couldn't stop grinning nevertheless. The two trudged slowly up the stairs to the palace, cleaned themselves quickly, and fell into empty beds in the guardhouse. Tonight, even Volund was ready for sleep.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
The morning was a mix of business as usual and total chaos. The servants were back in their routine enough to draw proper baths for the two, who gratefully accepted. Volund emerged from his private room dressed in light clothing only, his armor damaged and dirty enough to preclude wearing it. He found Lydia wearing a loose cotton shirt, dark pants and leather boots, her armor also almost unsalvageable. Her black hair was wet and loose, and she looked relaxed and refreshed. She smiled at him, and Volund grinned back. He stretched, relieving the soreness in his back and shoulders that had come with a long day of fighting and hard work. When he looked back, Lydia was still watching him. She quickly turned away to search for breakfast.
They were given breakfast alongside the jarl, who looked almost as stressed as he had before the battle. He had a whole city to rebuild.
"My friend," he said once he had eaten, "that's twice you've saved my city." Ignoring Volund's objections that he hadn't done it alone, Balgruuf continued. "I think you've earned more than just Lydia for your service." Volund began to sputter indignantly, Lydia reddened, and Balgruuf continued, oblivious or ignoring them both. "There are now many people without homes in my city, and it's made me realize that you are one of them. One of my guards who died yesterday had a house but no kin. The deed comes back to me in such a case, and I award it now to you for your valor on behalf of Whiterun."
The Dragonborn tried to refuse, but the Jarl did not relent. In the end, Volund took the deed, but left 4 gold bars to the jarl to help with the costs of reconstructing the city. He and Lydia gathered the rest of their belongings and left the palace to go find their new home.
Breezehome turned out to be extremely close to Adrianne's blacksmith shop, and fairly close to the gates of Whiterun. The house, like the blacksmith shop, was surprisingly undamaged by the fighting and the fires; the missiles had fallen more toward the center of the city. Volund unlocked the door and pushed it open, and the two stepped in.
It was clear that the previous owner had been a bachelor. It was clear, as well, that he had stayed mostly at the guards' barracks rather than in his house. Dust and cobwebs hung thick on the place, and what little furniture was present was all rough and spartan. There was a simple bed of hay and hides upstairs, and a surprisingly sturdy-looking chest, which contained only a few supplies meant for maintaining armor and weapons. The adventurers dropped everything into it except for the remaining gold, and locked it. The house, dirty as it was, was second on the list. Equipment was the priority.
Adrianne and her shop were a strange oasis in the war-torn city. The shop was totally undamaged, and the woman looked as if this were just another day in her life. She leisurely pounded a shield back into shape, looking up to see the visitors arrive.
"You never told me my smithing assistant was the Dragonborn," she called out.
"You never asked," he replied.
She laughed. "You know, the first time you Shouted yesterday, I knew we were going to be alright."
Lydia laughed, and Volund looked sheepish. "Well, I wish I would have been as certain. We did come out of it alright in the end, but our armor is another story."
"Plenty of work to be done if you want to earn the ore again, Dragonborn. I would give it to you in thanks for saving the city, but I can't afford it right now."
"I'm not asking for any donations this time, Adrianne. I have something for you instead." The woman's eyes widened as Volund set down the four gold bars, one by one, on her workbench. "Is this enough for two sets of steel plate armor?"
Adrianne laughed in disbelief. "That's almost enough for my shop, Dragonborn! If you're giving me all that, you just moved to first on my customer list."
"It's yours," he said. "A set of steel plate for me and for Lydia, two shields, and two swords." Their weapons had been battered and notched in the battle. The only things either of them had which survived in usable condition were their bows. Adrianne nodded at the order, and began to quickly take measurements for the armor.
"It'll be a day or two, but I'll get it done as quickly as I can."
When Adrianne was done with them, the pair returned to Breezehome and began to clean the place. Volund, occasionally asking for Lydia's opinion, took an accounting of what it needed in order to become livable. When the place was relatively clean, they took a trip to the general goods store.
Belethor, the proprietor, was a sleazy little man, but he had a good selection. When Volund showed him the jewels remaining from the barrow, the shopkeeper's eyes lit up. A real mattress for the bed, whose frame at least had turned out to be well-made, was the first order of business. A basic table and chairs, some cooking and dining gear, and a small cabinet rounded out the purchases Volund and Lydia had felt necessary for the moment.
They left the shop with a promise that the furniture would be delivered that day, and with a few hundred Septims in their pockets. It was now almost time for the evening meal, and they headed toward the Bannered Mare, along with many others from the city, to see what was available.
Author's note: I'm aware that in-game, four gold bars would not be nearly enough to purchase two full sets of steel plate armor. However, the game DRASTICALLY undervalues gold. I looked up current gold prices, and ONE gold bar the size of a Skyrim ingot would be worth over $600,000 (USD). Obviously there is no direct way to translate this back into Skyrim's economy, but the point is that GOLD IS EXPENSIVE. In a world where you can spend 30 or more coins on a decent meal, a gold bar would be worth more than 100.
