(AN: Now it gets real! [unfortunately, that means i have to use an epic cliche])
(Here is something that bothers me. My brother [yes, we're doing that] got upset at the comparisons made between the Imperials and the Roman Empire, so he went on tumblr [the "wretched hive of scum and villainy", aka, Morrowind] and found a blog that gave him everything he wanted. The blogger said that the Imperials were not based on the Roman Empire but instead on Creoles, and then [and this really upset me] that Nords were not based on Norsemen but on...get this...Egyptians! The only reasons being that the ancient Nords built houses of stone rather than wood and that they also buried their dead rather than burned them...except that there are burial mounds in Scandinavia from the Viking Age, draugr are particularly Nordic, NOT Egyptian, and Nords in Skyrim have been known to burn their dead as well)
A Path Through Snow and Ice
The camp was disturbed in the dead of the night by howling. Drawing forth her axe and picking up her shield, Eisa was the first one out to see what had happened. Marcurio and Crixus followed suit, running out into the thick of a blizzard. So thick was the snow that fell about them that they could scarce see more than a few feet before them, even with Akar brandishing a flaming branch from the fire-pit. The snow was so thick that Crixus could feel it up to his knees as he sleepily trod out to respond to whatever had attacked. The howling wind, also, made every voice to die even as it came out from their frozen lips.
"Akar!" Eisa shouted over the blizzard. "What is it?"
"Wolves!" roared the large Nord.
Through the blinding snow and the howling wind, Crixus could scarcely manage to hear the sound of wolves howling: far too close for his comfort. He had not seen the size of the wolves that had slain Baucus, but from the size of their claw-marks on his body, he had a guess that they were much larger than the timber wolves that haunted the highlands around Bruma or the southern heights of the Jerall Mountains. His concentration was suddenly broken by a loud neighing.
"The horses!" Eisa's voice cried out from somewhere in the blinding snow. "Protect the horses!"
Crixus saw a burst of flame coming from somewhere. He guessed that it must have been Marcurio, since no Nord would conjure fire. Making his way towards where he saw the fire, he heard the neighing of the horses and, then, the stony face of the tower appeared before him.
"Get them inside!" he heard Eisa called out in a faint voice.
Crixus' hands, numbed by the biting snow and chilling wind, touched the wall and he felt his way towards where the horses were tied. He could hear them now over the storm, neighing and stamping their feet in terror. The wolf attack had riled them up into a frenzy and now they were in as much danger from themselves as from the wolves. Crixus knew too well about wolf-attacks in snowy ranges from the months he spent in the Red Dog Pass. Nine months of a four year venture into Hammerfell, ending in total disaster. Cut off from Cyrodiil with no news of the war's end, they fought on and on, until that fateful last stand...
"Hurry!" Crixus heard Marcurio shout. "Get the horses inside!"
Crixus finally found one, took its reins and, despite the stamping, rearing up on hind legs and neighing, he managed to drag it into the safety of the tower. By this time everyone else was awake and he told them quickly of their problem, urging them to give him a hand. Once done he strode out into the snow, which was already feeling deeper than before. It gave less as he planted his feet into it, swimming as though through a cold bog. He found the next horse, seized the reins and dragged it back as the others waded out into the snow after the other horses. He brought the horse next to the other one inside, making a mental note of how many horses they had: two for him and Marcurio and five for Eisa's company. Two were now safe and as he made his way back outside a third time, a third horse was brought safely into the warm. Three horses rescued, only four more to go.
Crixus reached out to the nearest horse, dragging it stubbornly after him as he heard, carried on the wind around him, the cries of wolves and something like someone shouting. Heedless, he dragged the horse into the tower, then made his way to the door, only to find Marlena, Eridor and Ma'Iir dragging in the fifth horse, his horse laden with his gear. Then Marcurio came rushing into the tower, shivering with cold. Lastly Akar was thrown inside, howling and cursing as loud as he could. Lastly came Eisa, talking to the large Nord with a grim countenance upon her face.
"There's nothing you can do, Akar!" she returned. "They're gone!"
"No!" sobbed Akar.
"What happened?" Marlena asked.
"Wolves," Eisa began. "They attacked us during the night. Akar and Savard managed to hold them off until the blizzard broke down upon them. Then the wolves backed off and then they came again."
"Savard!" Akar moaned, looking out at the doorway.
"Have some balls, man!" Crixus retorted. "People die all the time."
"Have pity, you ass-hole!" Eisa shouted back. "Savard was Akar's lover."
Crixus did not reply. To him it made no difference who slept with whom. He had met plenty of same-sex couples in Mournhold to hold much in the way of scruples. All he wanted was to enjoy women and be left alone, and he would leave alone men who sought out cocks and women who fancied 'pilfering' other women.
"There are still two horses out there," he finally said, pointing towards the door.
"No," Eisa said, shaking her head. "There ain't. The wolves got them in the end. Dire-wolves, the size of a bear."
"Were they werewolves?" asked Ma'Iir fearfully.
"There ain't no wargs this far north," Eisa returned. "Not with the Silver Hand nearby."
The night was passed in uneasy silence as none of them could bare falling asleep with the thought of wolves hanging in the shadows outside the tower. They listened nervously to the howl of the wind, half expecting to hear the call of the wolves just beyond their hearing. One by one they passed out from sheer exhaustion, even Servius Crixus.
Morning rose rather dimly, with the fire-pit in the center of the tower having long since died out. The old trap-door at the top of the tower still held and so the stairs leading up to the top story were not packed down with snow. But there was a problem about the front entrance of the tower. A wall of snow blanketed the entrance into Snowpoint Beacon from the floor to the arch of the door. Eisa led them, including Crixus, in digging out a path through the snow that would be wide enough for the horses to go through. After a light breakfast and a share of a potion from Crixus' supplies, they went to work on the wall of snow. It was hard work and it seemed to go slower than they expected. For as soon as they had removed some snow, more would cave down upon the work they had done, making it all for naught.
The morning was swiftly passing by overhead by the time they finally plowed through the snow a suitable path for both horse and riders. With the rest of their gear, they led the horses up onto the snow, which was more or less half the depth of the drift that had piled up against the door: Crixus in fact surmised that the snow before the door had fallen from the top of the tower. Once they were out, they began making their plans for departure. Akar chose to walk while the others rode.
The going was slow as they made their way north, keeping towards the cliffs to their right as they went. Crixus often complained that they were going nowhere, or that they would never arrive in Windhelm under his time schedule. The others ignored him and kept on their way. They heard no sound of the wolves from last night, nor saw they sign of them, nor the horses or Savard. Still they journeyed onward.
Towards the middle of the day, after they passed the sunken fort of Driftshade Refuge on their right some ways back, they left the cliffs to the west and began turning eastward. As they came towards the edge of the eastern cliffs, they saw what had been hidden from their sight by reason of a cloud of fog blown out from the sea. Before them the cliff dove down into a vast glacier of ice, glistening pale-blue in the mid-day sun. To the north-west they could see the Sea of Ghosts, gleaming dark blue as it stretched for miles out of sight, dotted by icebergs and frozen islands. Presently they saw, stretching before them, in the center of the glacier, a canyon cut into the ice as though a great axe, such as the fabled Wuuthrad, the axe of Ysgramor, had cut through the ice a pathway from the shore down below to the snowy ground.
"There we are," Eisa stated, gesturing towards the glacier. "If we push now, we might arrive in Winterhold tonight."
"Still behind schedule," Crixus replied. No one answered him but they all gave him dirty looks as though he had just pissed on somebody's grave.
"What is that?" Ma'Iir asked, pointing towards the mountains to the south-east.
Looking there, where the line of mountains in the east rose up to unmeasurable heights, they saw, just on the edge of what they could see, hidden by the heights of Mount Anthor, what looked like a stone statue of immense size rising from the land.
"That," Eisa answered. "Is the Shrine of Azura, one of the daedric princes of Oblivion. It was built centuries ago by the dark elves when they came to Skyrim after their mountain exploded."
"Quiet!" Crixus suddenly exclaimed. "We're not alone!"
It did not take them long to find out what it was that was attacking them this time. They made more noise than the wolves, lumbering through the snow and growling with each step of the way. Two large ice trolls, clad in white fur, came lumbering down the hill-side from the cliffs to meet them. Apparently their passing close to the cliffs on the west side had alerted two sleeping trolls to their passing. The trolls were now upon them, swinging wide with their huge arms.
The first troll swung at the head of Crixus' horse with its huge paws. The horse stood no chance and collapsed under Crixus' weight. So near was he to the edge that the horse began sliding down into the valley below. Crixus barely had time to grab onto something as his horse slid down to the bottom. For a moment he lurched after the horse, then quickly pulled his feet up and out of the stirrups. He tried to cling onto the ground before him but it was too snowy and his gloved fingers tore into the snow, grabbing nothing. A fire-ball from above struck the troll, sending it flying after the horse, when suddenly Marcurio's face appeared, holding out his hand to Crixus.
"Here!" he shouted. "Give me your hand!"
Reaching out, Crixus' wet glove seized Marcurio's hand and came off in it, leaving his bare hand to grasp vainly at the freezing cold snow.
"Again, again!" Marcurio shouted, throwing the glove aside and holding his hands down.
Crixus reached up again, this time finally taking hold of Marcurio's hand. The young wizard pulled with all of his might, trying desperately to bring Crixus back onto level ground. Above him Crixus could hear fighting going swiftly among the others. Then there was a loud cry and then a dull roar as of a large creature in the throes of death. Crixus was now back on the shelf and looked briefly on the scene. The others were about, looking shocked and in sorrow, while Eisa was kneeling over a large body lying next to the dead troll.
The body was that of Akar. He had been killed while trying to fight the troll.
"We need to get down there, now," Crixus broke the silence at last, pointing down into the valley.
"Do you have no heart?" Marlena asked through tears.
"All my gear was on my horse," Crixus returned. "We're not crossing this glacier without my supplies."
"The White take your gear!" Eisa shouted. "Akar was my friend!"
"At least let them mourn his death," Marcurio muttered, turning to Crixus.
"While my duty faces more and more delays," Crixus murmured, turning back towards the east.
"Did you lose all tact in the war?"
"Oh, fuck you!" Crixus retorted.
"There you go again," Marcurio stated. "You know, if it weren't for the fact that we're in the middle of fuck-all, I'd leave your arse again!"
"Are you seriously going to be this whiny?" asked Crixus.
"All I ask is a little respect," Marcurio retorted. "Wouldn't you want the same?"
"We'll bury him here," Eisa spoke up. "Then we'll forge ahead."
Crixus and Marcurio watched as Eisa, Eridor, Ma'Iir and Marlena buried Akar's body under a pile of snow and loose rocks. The troll they pushed off the cliff with the other one while the two Colovians watched on silently.
"Burying their dead?" Crixus asked Marcurio. "Doesn't seem like a Nord thing to do. I thought they'd just eat his body right there."
"While I'm sure there are some daedric cults that practice cannibalism," Marcurio replied. "Nords have a strong attachment to death. The Atmoran tradition, brought back from the Merethic Age when dragons ruled, held that the dead should be buried whole and embalmed, to preserve the body for use by their priests, who served the dragons and were, in turn, given great power over the dead. Some believe that the draugr exist because of the ancient Atmorans' faith in the dragons."
"Dragons?" Crixus scoffed. "There are no dragons in Tamriel. Any real ones, at least. It was said that there was something like a dragon at the end of the Oblivion Crisis, but that was the Avatar of Akatosh, if you believe all that nonsense about St. Martin breaking the Amulet of Kings and becoming a golden dragon."
"St. Martin?" Marcurio asked. "You're one of the Cult of the Dragon?"
"You know about that?" asked Crixus.
"I stay in Riften," Marcurio returned. "News from Cyrodiil is quite common in the Bee and Barb. And I've heard quite a bit about that religious group, the Cult of the Dragon. They worship the Septims and hold Martin Septim in the highest honor."
"Well," Crixus snickered. "I wouldn't be a good atheist if I worshiped any cult, would I? Besides, I've never met anyone of the Cult of the Dragon. I've only heard the rumors about some people back home trying to canonize Martin Septim. If any man or being were deserving of veneration as a god, that would be Martin Septim."
"Wasn't there a dragon in the Tale of Cyrus the Redguard?" Marcurio asked.
"If you actually believe that myth," Crixus snickered again.
Marcurio rolled his eyes. "But as I was saying, Nords do bury their dead. There have been three stages of the various rituals of interring the bodies. The oldest, of course, is mummification. Then about the First or Second Era it became burial mounds, though those were usually only for noteworthy people. Then, with the Third Era, the Colovian custom of burying became commonplace throughout the Empire, including here in Skyrim. Although there are some who keep the old traditions of Ysgramor."
"More old Nord traditions," Crixus groaned.
"Ysgramor was burned after he died," said Marcurio. "And his ashes stored in a crypt just off the shore. In fact..." He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked out northeast. "I think we might be able to see the island from here if we look close enough..." Crixus, however, was not following Marcurio. The burial service was over and Eisa was walking towards Crixus, disapproval in her eyes.
"Alright," she said. "We go down."
"First things first, though," Crixus stated. "We should let the horses go."
"What?" asked Marlena.
"No!" protested Eisa.
"They won't be able to get down this hill," Crixus stated. "And I doubt they'd be of much help farther on down there. Besides, we're not far from Driftshade Refuge. Maybe the Silver Hand will find our horses and take care of them."
"I don't like this one bit," Eisa stated.
"Tough," Crixus returned. "Now let's get going." He turned to Eridor, Marlena and Ma'Iir. "Take everything you'll absolutely need off the horses. We might yet meet trouble along the way."
Ten minutes passed as they gathered their things from their horses and prepared to make the journey down the hill. Once they were ready, Eridor was the first to slide down the snow-drift incline down which Crixus' horse had fallen. He reached the bottom without any incident and soon the others were sliding down the snowy embankment to the bottom. Once they were down, Crixus ran to his dead horse and removed his gear from its body, especially the grappling hook and coil of rope.
They went therefore onward, with a wide expanse to cross before them. Presently the soft, crunchy snow beneath their feet changed: now it was hard, slippery and frozen solid. A chill, salty wind they could feel blowing upon them from off the sea. Yet on they marched, for there was still a long ways yet to travel. About three hours after mid-day, the frozen drifts became rigid crags that they could not have possibly crossed on horse-back. At the most the distance between each crevice was about ten feet and most of them were able to easily jump across.
At last they came to one crevice that was too wide to leap across. This was the icy canyon they had seen from far above, that which looked as though it had been carved by a great battle-axe. But here, up close, it appeared to be so wide that even a giant could not leap across its gaping maw. Sheer walls of ice rose up on both sides with shelves of ice jutting out from the top of the walls, leaving absolutely no room to climb atop them. The drop down from where they stood to the bottom of the canyon would surely kill even a giant. Further on down the canyon's bottom opened up to the sea, where a wide, gravelly beach of dark rocks lay before the sea-side. Fat horkers with flippers instead of arms or legs waddled about the shore, eating fish or mud-crabs out of the silt with the three long tusks of their mouths.
"Well," Eisa sighed. "Here we are. And it doesn't look like we can go any farther today."
"Looks can be deceiving," Crixus replied.
"Should we try and go around?" Ma'Iir asked.
"No, that will take too long," Crixus retorted, then turned to Eridor and Marlena. "Do you two have bows?"
"Yes," Eridor nodded.
"I always carry a bow with me," Marlena replied.
"Good," Crixus smirked. "There might be a way out of this yet."
He then knelt down upon the ice shelf and began hacking a hole into it with its knife.
"What are you doing?" Eisa asked.
"Getting us..." grunted Crixus. "Some...secure...holds. You two...get my rope!"
"Rope?" asked Eridor.
"Yes!" Crixus added. "This is why...I had to get it...from my horse. We need it! Now...get the rope!"
Eridor and Marlena took the rope of Crixus' shoulders while he hollowed out a hole in that part of the ice shelf, then moved on to another ice-shelf nearby and began striking at it.
"So what do we do with the rope?" Marlena asked.
"Cut it in two," he replied. "There's about two hundred feet on there, and this chasm can't be more than fifty feet."
"But there's nothing on the other side to shoot for," Eridor replied, divining what Crixus was suggesting.
"That's why I have my grappling hook," Crixus added. "Now...cut the rope!"
Crixus continued hacking into the second ice shelf as the two cut apart the rope into two halves of equal length. Rising up and pocketing his knife, Crixus gestured across the canyon, then pulled out his Imperial re-curve bow.
"What kind of arrows do you have?" Crixus asked.
"Standard hunting arrows," Eridor replied.
"Steel-tipped arrows," Marlena added.
"I mean the shafts."
"Oh, they're ironwood."
"Excellent," Crixus smiled. "Now tie one end of the rope onto the arrow and fire them at the canyon wall. I'll do the first one." Crixus removed one of Marlena's steel-tipped ironwood arrows and tied the rope to it. He then fitted the arrow into his bow-string, inhaled deeply, pulled back the bow and let it loose. The arrow flew through the air, striking hard into the ice about four feet away from the other arrow-strike and holding fast. Amazed at his success, Marlena fired another arrow at the wall, which stuck fast.
"Now tie the other end," Crixus instructed. "Into these holes I made in the ice."
"I see it now!" Eisa realized. "You're going to climb across the canyon using the ropes, aren't you?"
"That's exactly right," Crixus commented.
"Rather ingenious," Marcurio added.
"Yes, I did think it was rather so," Crixus smiled. "With this, we should cut at least an hour or two off our journey if we went around the canyon. Come on, let's get across already."
After securing the ropes into the holes in the ice and his grappling hook and its twenty foot rope onto himself, Crixus carefully slid down off the side of the ice shelf, holding onto the rope with one hand. He then reached out to the other rope, catching it in his other hand, then began climbing across the canyon hand over hand upon the two ropes. Marcurio was the next one down onto the ropes, carefully creeping across them while trying desperately to remain calm. He tried not looking down, but then his eyes caught sight of a wonder frozen in the side of the icy canyon wall several yards down. Somewhere near the ground, there was a giant mammoth frozen in the ice, its body perfectly preserved for how ever long it had remained trapped there before being released by the winds of time.
Behind him, Marcurio could feel the rope shake as Eisa took hold of the ropes and began climbing after them.
"Easy, easy!" he shouted back.
"What's the matter, mage?" Eisa asked, straining as she pulled herself along. "Afraid?"
"Yes, I am a little afraid of falling to my death!" Marcurio retorted. "Don't shake the ropes!"
At the rear, Marlena was busy trying to convince Ma'Iir to cross the rope bridge. The young Khajiit, already afraid over the loss of two large Nords, was having doubts about their journey.
"It's perfectly safe," she assured him.
"Ma'Iir does not know," the young Khajiit returned, shaking his head. "Ma'Iir told Eisa about him..." He pointed towards Crixus. "...but nobody listens to Ma'Iir. Ma'Iir does not trust this bridge of ropes!"
"There's nothing to be afraid about!" she continued.
"Of course not, Ma'Iir," Eridor added, tussling the fur between Ma'Iir's long, pointed ears with a playful chuckle.
"This rope bridge is nothing compared to the vines that grow beneath the mangrove trees back home. Sometimes a tree will become unfriendly and move the branch the vines grow on suddenly, causing you to miss your jump and fall to your death."
"You're not helping him any, Eridor!" Marlena retorted.
"Look, I'll show you," Eridor stated plainly. He deftly climbed down and took hold of the ropes, swiftly moving hand over hand down the rope. "You see? Perfectly safe!"
"Ma'Iir does not know..."
"Look," Marlena returned, turning to the young Khajiit. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll go first."
"No!" Ma'Iir suddenly exclaimed, then awkwardly turned his blue eyes to the ground.
"What? What is it?"
"Ma'Iir does not want you to go," he replied, still gazing at the ground. "Ma'Iir fears for your safety."
"It's perfectly safe," she repeated. "Trust me, I've been through worse situations than this."
"Do you promise?" Ma'Iir asked.
Marlena nodded. "I promise, Ma'Iir." She kissed his forehead, then made her way towards the rope.
Crixus was almost at the end of the rope. Behind him, the others were slowly making their progress. But while they were yet climbing, a fierce wind blew upon them from off the sea. Fiercer even than the gales Crixus had felt in the Jerall Mountains, the wind seemed to bite with a cold sting that even their clothing could not long keep out. Then suddenly Crixus cried out as a thin, shallow cut appeared across his face.
"The fuck kind of wind is this?" he roared.
"This is no wind," Marcurio answered. "It's the ice-wraiths. Keep your heads down and for gods' sake, don't show your neck!"
Marcurio then let go of the rope with one hand and threw a fire-ball outward into the wind. There was a wail like wind howling through stone, then a burst like the stone had struck ice, and a shower of tiny ice crystals fell towards the bottom of the canyon. Another gust of wind blew their way and Marcurio threw another fire-ball into it once more: another ice-wraith shattered and fell to the ground in a shower of crystals.
"Keep moving!" Crixus shouted to those behind him.
They tried their best to move against the ever-rushing wind, while Crixus finally reached the end of the rope. Here he too took to holding onto only one rope, the one he had shot, as he reached for his grappling hook which he had secured to his belt before: he would then climb up the rest of the icy shelf and thereby gain the top.
"Don't do that!" he heard Eisa shout out behind him. "Your hook will catch on the rope!"
"I don't have time to cut hand holds in the ice," Crixus added. "Besides, those would be too slippery."
Taking out the hook, backing up a bit from the wall and trying his best to hold on, Crixus gave it a good swing back and forth to build up momentum. Then, after a good six swings, he threw the hook towards the shelf. There was a sharp clang as the hook struck something hard, though they would not know if it were secure unless it was tested first. Crixus reached out with his right hand and pulled on the grappling rope: it was tight.
"Once you reach the wall," he called back. "Climb on up here."
Shifting his left hand onto the rope, Crixus then began pulling himself deftly up the rope onto the top of the shelf. Four years in Hammerfell, half of which was spent in the mountains looking for Dominion forces, had forced Crixus to learn how to climb rocks with nothing more than a pick and rope. If anyone could have conquered any mountain in Skyrim, were he faced against it with the prospect of climbing it, it would have been Servius Crixus.
Meanwhile, below, the gales of the ice-wraiths struck again. Marcurio threw a fire-ball at the wind and it sailed harmlessly off over the sea, where it exploded in a dull and distant poof.
"Keep your heads down!" Eisa shouted.
They all obeyed as another gust of wind tore into them. Ice smaller than they could see from the spiked and sharpened carapaces of the semi-visible wraiths tore flesh and skin, scratching them all like shattered glass. Suddenly there was a horrible ripping sound. Instinctively, Eisa and Marlena clung onto the rope on the far right, the one that Crixus fired. Ma'Iir froze and Eridor clung onto the rope on the far left. Near at hand, Crixus heard the arrow-heads grunt and the ice around them start to creak.
"Grab the other rope!" he shouted. "There's too many of you on the one rope."
"I think those wraiths might have damaged one of the ropes," Marlena called back.
All eyes turned towards Eridor, who was clinging onto the rope nearest to the wind. His black eyes were not afraid; in fact, Crixus admired his defiance in the face of death.
"Don't worry about me," he said to his comrades. "I'm a light-footed wood elf. I'll be alright."
"Keep moving, but slowly!" Eisa shouted to the others.
Crixus was now reaching onto the slippery edge of the shelf, pulling himself back onto his feet when the others slowly made their way after him. Looking back over, he saw Marcurio had now reached the grappling rope and took hold, carefully pulling himself upward. Looking down the rope further, he saw Eisa, Eridor and Marlena making their way swiftly towards the edge of the cliff: the Khajiit boy Ma'Iir, however, was frozen with fear in the middle of the rope.
"Wait!" he heard Marlena shout. "Ma'Iir's scared. I'll go back for him."
"I'll do it," Eridor stated. "I'm lither on these ropes."
"He trusts me," Marlena retorted. "He'll come if I..."
"Listen!" Eisa shouted back to her comrades. "If these ropes are breaking, they won't hold us any longer. Eribor, you're quicker on the ropes, go back and get him."
"I'll wait for him," Marlena stated.
"No!" Eisa retorted.
"He needs me, Eisa! He's scared!"
"We all are," Eisa returned. "But we can't let fear keep us from surviving! He won't last long out in Skyrim if he does that. Eribor, go, quickly!"
"Yes, sir!" he said jestingly.
Crixus watched as the wood elf turned around and went back for the boy. He rolled his eyes: in the War, he would have left the boy to die. Some may have called his words cruel, but they were necessary. He remembered when he joined the army, looking after his brother Venerius who had ran away from home to join: he was only fifteen at the time, his brother thirteen. All of the commanders treated him as a liability and, after the Battle of the Niben Bay, he realized that he was a liability. Thus began his training as a soldier rather than as a page and his usefulness increased: he never found Venerius, though.
Marcurio's hands, blushing red under the cold grip of ice, reached the top of the shelf as he pulled himself up after Crixus. As he rose, Crixus saw a look of consternation in Marcurio's eyes.
"Those ropes aren't going to hold," he told Crixus.
"Which ones?"
"Both of them!" he muttered, keeping his voice low over the howl of the ocean winds. "The arrows are coming out of the ice."
"We're up, that's all that matters," Crixus replied.
"Fuck that!" Marcurio retorted, then looked down and held out his hand towards Eisa, who was making her way up the rope.
Meanwhile, Eridor had finally crossed the rope over to where Ma'Iir was hovering, shaking and shivering as he gazed down in fear at the yawning maw of the canyon looming beneath him.
"Come here, you little rascal," Eridor joked. "Let's get going."
"Ma'Iir cannot go another inch more!" wept the Khajiit, shaking his head.
"You have to, son," Eridor replied. "If you don't, you'll be stuck up here."
"Ma'Iir knew that something would happen," the boy replied. "Ma'Iir knew that bad things would happen if we went with him!"
"Look over there, son, don't you see?" Eridor asked, nodding with his head towards the other end of the ropes. "Marlena's there, waiting for you."
"Marlena is very beautiful," Ma'Iir added.
"Well, if you like humans," Eridor jested.
"Ma'Iir does not know about all humans," the boy replied. "Ma'Iir only knows that he loves..."
"I know, I know," Eridor replied, nodding his head understandingly. "I was your age once. Couldn't keep the girls off me. Do you see her over there?" Ma'Iir nodded. "She's waiting for you. She's a sweet girl, you know."
"Marlena is no girl!" Ma'Iir retorted. "Ma'Iir met girls in the orphanage. Marlena is a woman!"
"Yes," Eridor nodded. "And she believes in you. Look at her, she's waiting for you. She knows you can make it. Are you going to prove her wrong?"
"No!" Ma'Iir shook his head. "Ma'Iir wants to prove Marlena right, show her that he is strong and-and brave!"
"So come on, then," Eridor returned. "Hold onto my back..."
"No!" Ma'Iir repeated. "Ma'Iir must be brave on his own...for Marlena...right?"
"Then come on!" Eridor retorted. "Let's get going!"
The two figures began climbing the ropes as swiftly as possible. At the bottom of the grapple clung Marlena, looking out towards where Ma'Iir and Eridor were climbing towards her. From the top, Eisa was cheering them on. Now Ma'Iir was climbing as swift as possible, eager to feel Marlena's warm arms around him once again after the cold, biting embrace of the ocean winds. Turning around, Marlena told Ma'Iir to leap onto her back and that she would carry them both to the top. Warily at first the Khajiit boy held out his clawed hand and touched the back of her hooded fur coat: it was warm and he could smell her from where he was reaching. This made him confident and he pulled himself the rest of the way onto her back. Above, Marcurio and Eisa held the grapple secure against the extra weight. Marlena then turned to Eridor, who was almost upon them when suddenly the left rope shattered and fell to the side of the canyon, freed from the far side.
"Eridor!" Marlena shouted. "Here, take my hand!"
Marlena held out her gloved hand towards the wood elf, who was almost upon her. He reached out as well, clinging with one hand to the rope: their fingers brushed against each other. Then suddenly there was another crack as the arrow from Crixus' bow snapped in two and Eridor went sliding back towards the other side of the canyon wall. Marlena watched in horror as just about half-way across the canyon, the rope gave way from the other side and Eridor plunged down to the bottom. She called in vain after him, her voice dying upon her lips as the cold, Northern wind blasted the words apart even as they left her mouth.
(AN: Once again I decided to divide one giant chapter into two, just to make my work a little bit easier.)
(I want to thank you for the reviews so far, please keep 'em coming! A lot of dramatic stuff, and Crixus' back-story, came to place here in this chapter. Yes, i realized that Eisa had left the White Watch band by the time she's at Frostmere Crypt, but that will be brought up in the next chapter.)