Author's Note: This took longer than I expected, because, while I had written several parts of it earlier, I had some trouble sewing the parts together. So this is going to be smooth in some places and a little rougher in others. Hopefully it hangs together as a whole.

By the way, this chapter will be as R-rated as it's going to get, so keep your eyes open...*wicked grin.*

Chapter Ten: The Throat of the World

Odd, Ravenlight mused, dashing ahead of Drizzt again, how well a run clears the mind. She hadn't expected him to agree so readily to heading to Ivarstead on foot. But she was glad he had. She desperately needed a clearer head. The previous night's dream was weighing on her more than she cared to admit, and she knew that riding would alet her to brood on it for longer than was wise.

If there is a problem with vampires, I'll look into it. But until I know, I need to focus on Alduin. She also didn't need to fret on what she was going to say to Arngier to convince him to help her find out about Dragonrend. And running was excellent for taking her mind off that sort of thing.

A fight would have worked as well. But so far, the road was clear; few predators and no bandits had moved back onto this stretch in the few weeks since she and Drizzt had traveled to Riften. Admittedly, after dealing with a Daedroth, a frost dragon, and a slew of Forsworn in one day, a few days without a fight didn't sound so bad…or it wouldn't have if her dragon soul, the Dov, hadn't been awake. Likely the dream had stirred it up. In any case, she felt restless and wild, eager to test her new Sunfang, or the reach of her bow Wraithcaptor.

Part of her would have been happy enough stalking a deer or an elk; but that part wasn't the one trying to drive her at the moment. The Dov was stronger now; stronger, stubborn, and quite certain that it wanted a fight.

Maybe we'll run into some wolves or a bandit or two once we reach the road to Ivarstead, she thought irritably. Until then, I'm not looking for battle, so just shut it! She vaulted up and across a tumbled set of boulders taller than she was on the side of the road, focusing on the activity to silence her unwanted, wilder self.

Running across the rocks and vaulting boulders wasn't quite as easy or as free as racing through the trees of Valenwood had been. Still, it was fun, and a challenge she relished. And it reminded her enough of that old pastime that it somehow made…she didn't know how to describe it. But it felt as if the Bosmer in her grew stronger than the Dov, silencing that more vicious side at least for the moment.

The boulder run came to an end and she rolled easily down the side, her armor clattering as it struck the rock. When she rose to her feet, she saw Drizzt watching her, one eyebrow arched.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. Why?"

"That sounded like it hurt."

"Oh." She considered the sound, and realized it probably had sounded like an out-of-control tumble. "No, I'm all right. The somersault was deliberate." She grinned at him. "I learned how to control or break falls when I was pretty young. It helps to do that when you live in the treetops."

He considered. "I imagine it would, especially if you don't know how to levitate."

She raised a curious eyebrow. "Levitation? That magic's been lost for centuries here. Why, can you do that?"

"I could once." They started down the road again, this time side-by-side. "It's an…innate magic for my people, similar to the darkness spell I used on the hagraven. But I lost that ability after I started living on the surface."

"I thought that globe of black might have been you." Ravenlight absently dodged a rough patch on the road. "What do you mean, though, 'after you started living on the surface'?" She gave him a quick, sideways glance, not sure if she was looking for gills or...she didn't think Drow were some kind of sea elf, but in his world...

"That's right, I never told you about Menzoberranzan." Drizzt was silent for a few moments, trying to figure out where to start. "It's…not a good place."

"Was that where your…family came from?" Ravenlight glanced at him, grimacing a little when he nodded. "Probably worse than I could imagine, in that case."

"Most likely." He shook his head. "The entire Underdark is that way; a dark, cruel place where the savage survive."

"Nice." She sprang over another rough area. "Underdark; sounds like the stories of Blackreach. I take it Menzoberranzan is underground, then?" Makes more sense than underwater.

"Yes. The Drow are subterranean."

Ravenlight glanced at him again, considering. "I'd compare them to the Falmer, except you don't look anything like them. Though the…general nastiness might be the same."

Drizzt frowned, trying to remember if he'd heard the name before. "What are the Falmer?"

She shuddered. "The eeriest creatures in Skyrim, and mostly because I have no idea what they really are. They…look like some twisted race of Elves, living in the old Dwemer cities; pale as death, with faces like skulls and sightless eyes. I've clashed with them a time or two, but...honestly, I would really rather go up against a dragon, if only because I can always hear when the dragon is coming—and because I know what it is. Falmer are almost totally silent when they move, and there's nothing like turning a corner to come face-to-face with one of those things to nearly stop your heart with shock." She grimaced. "Not to mention they'll attack anything that moves, unless it's a chaurus. Those they keep as…watchdogs, and possibly pets."

"Chaurus?" He hadn't heard of those, either.

"A giant insect. Hideous things; razor-sharp mandibles, and they spit a particularly nasty poison. They'll eat any sort of flesh. Normally they stay underground, but I ran into one near the marshes in Morthal once. It was almost entirely luck that the blasted thing didn't kill me."

"Just luck?" he teased. "Not someone watching out for you?"

"It sure felt like luck," she responded, shooting him a dry look. "It also felt like four bottles of healing potions and a lot of running. I was able to kill it, but…well, it was after that I switched from leather armor to metal, because that would protect my legs more."

"It went after your legs?" Drizzt glanced at her, trying not to look at her legs.

Ravenlight shrugged a little. "I say giant insects, but the average one is about knee-height. It bit my leg because that was where it could reach." She looked away, her face clouding. "I was able to kill it and heal myself before I bled out, but there's a pretty good dent in my right calf still."

That almost felt like permission, and he shot a glance toward his companion's slim, metal-clad legs. "How does that armor hold up against them?"

"I don't know." She took another detour across a jumble of boulders. "I haven't run into another chaurus since I switched over to it—not that I've been hunting them, or Falmer." Another loud but controlled roll, and she came up on the road, looking at him. "Your turn. What enemy or creature have you faced that you'd like nothing more than to never have to face again?"

Drizzt considered for a moment. "That's not an easy question to answer. But there is one…I've faced him several times, and probably will again in the future. The Daedroth reminded me a little of him."

Ravenlight grimaced. "Pleasant. So what is this enemy? Some kind of demon?"

"Yes, actually. A Balor from the Abyss, called Errtu." Drizzt stopped, closing his eyes as the memory of the vicious creature crashed over him. Ravenlight continued on for a few yards before realizing he'd stopped and turning back. "I haven't had to face him for…decades," he murmured. "But I have no hope that he's forgotten me."

"Demons generally don't," Ravenlight agreed. She rocked back on her heels, eyeing him. "You know, I'd really rather not know more about this, but I think I'd better. What did you do to get a…a Balor after you?"

A quick smile flashed across his face. "I banished him," he answered. "I first encountered him a few years after I'd settled in Icewind Dale, where he'd allied himself with a crazed magician. I knew enough of him to call him up, then fought and defeated him."

"Ah, no wonder." Ravenlight shook her head. "That would do it, all right. I haven't encountered anything of the sort, thank all the gods, but I've read a few texts by and about people who have." She glanced sideways at him. "I take it he's got a grudge?"

"Putting it mildly." He clenched his fist tightly. "Normally, a defeated demon is banished for a hundred years. But Errtu found some way to escape his banishment barely fifteen years later, and laid an elaborate trap for me." He inhaled sharply, his eyes flashing. "Using a friend who had died a few years prior as bait. It nearly worked. He nearly had us all."

Ravenlight whistled, shaking her head. "And I thought I had some nasty enemies. What stopped him?"

"Truthfully? His own malice—and luck." Drizzt chuckled wryly. "The friend—Wulfgar—had a powerful weapon forged for him, with the power to return to his hand after it was thrown. A youngster from his tribe decided to take the hammer, Aegis-fang, up in his place. What he didn't know—what none of us knew—was that Wulfgar, though Errtu's prisoner, was on the mortal plane, and the hammer went back to him. And he had a few scores to settle with the demon."

"I imagine." Ravenlight briefly considered what someone who had been under, say, Molag Bal or Mehrunes Dagon for a few years would do if they found they had weapon and opportunity for some payback. And while the initial impression was something like a skeever chewing a dragon's ankle, she considered that if the weapon was named something like Aegis-fang, it probably had enough clout to make even a Daedric Prince take notice. "That would turn the tide."

"It did." Drizzt looked into the trees, though his lavender eyes were so misted she didn't know if he was actually seeing them. "He hasn't managed to escape his second banishment yet—but a hundred years isn't all that long for his kind. Or mine."

Ravenlight grimaced. "Which means he may be back for a third try at you?"

"Without doubt." Drizzt sighed and shook his head. "I just hope I'll be ready for him."

The Bosmer tipped her head to the side, a little smile tugging at the side of her lips. "I doubt he could find you here," she said slyly. "And even if he does, well, he's not exactly going to escape banishment and find you tomorrow, is he?"

Drizzt looked at her, surprised. Then he laughed, lifting his hands to concede the point. "True," he agreed. "And I suppose that while I'm helping you, I can grow stronger myself."

"Which will help us both." Ravenlight grinned at him. "Funny how that works, huh?"

"Is that chance or design?"

The Bosmer looked up, considering. "I have no idea. Probably both; chance where we're concerned, but their design."

"'Their'?" Drizzt was pretty sure he knew what she was talking about, but asked just in case.

"The Divines." Ravenlight tipped her head back, shaking her hair away from her face, and exhaled loudly. "I know a lot of people who doubt them; but I've seen too many things that are just a little too…convenient for them to be chance. A lot of them are in my own life, but you've told me a few things that let me know you've got an Aedra or two watching you, as well."

"Such as?"

Ravenlight raised her eyebrows at him. "Such as how you got here in the first place. A mages' camp blew up, Drizzt, and all that happened was you landed in Skyrim. I'm willing to bet most of them still haven't hit the ground back in your world—and a number of them are probably in tiny pieces or different shapes. Getting transported to another world, and in one piece no less…that's pretty impressive."

He started to answer, then stopped and thought over most of the wizards he knew, and what the result of an explosion would typically be. A sane wizard's failed experiment would most likely leave a smoking crater, but when it came to the infamous Harpells, anything could happen, and usually did. And if a Harpell's experiment blew up with enough force to reach a traveler over twelve yards away, the result would generally not be so simple, or benign, as a change of worlds. "You're right about that."

To her credit, Ravenlight did not respond, aside from smirking a little and folding her arms. Then she stretched a little, running a quick hand through her hair and looking around. Her nostrils flared slightly as she tested the air, and a smile suddenly flashed across her face. "Oh, we're closer than I thought."

"Closer to what?" Drizzt sniffed as well and frowned. There was an odd smell on the wind; one that was vaguely familiar, but just different enough to elude his memory. He closed his eyes, trying to sort it out. A peculiar earthy scent, more like clay than forest loam; some definite traces of sulfur; and a metallic overlay to it all. "What is that?"

"I don't know why," Ravenlight answered, several yards ahead of him, "but there's an area up here full of hot springs. That's what you're smelling. And I don't know about you, but I haven't had a decent bath in longer than I care to think about. I think a rest is in order."

Drizzt didn't think either of them actually needed to bathe; but he said nothing. He didn't mind enjoying a hot spring, and had a sneaking suspicion Ravenlight's decision had more to do with a desperate need to relax for a little while than cleanliness. He followed her off the road and down a fairly steep slope out into the springs.

As they came out of the curtain of trees and into view of the area, Drizzt halted, his eyes widening in surprise. He'd expected a rocky area with perhaps two or three springs visible, not an immense, blasted-looking bowl of reddish-orange clay at least two or three square miles across. A ruin was visible, fairly close by; he could see movement in its walls. Skeletons; nothing more serious. More concerning was a small group of giants and mammoths, gathered around a huge fire further into the waste. And most concerning of all was a dragon circling a flat-topped hill located roughly in the center of the sunken plain.

He pointed to the last. "Will that be a problem?"

Ravenlight chuckled. "After two frost dragons, you're worried about a lesser dragon like that? No. Even if he attacks, we'll be able to deal with him quickly. And if we don't actually try to climb his hill, he ought to leave us alone." She shrugged. "The settled dragons don't cause as much trouble as the free-roaming ones, for some reason."

He eyed the ominous shape, both hands resting on his scimitar hilts. "Forgive me if I'm not altogether reassured. Where did you plan to go to…bathe?"

She pointed to a fairly quiet-looking spot some distance away from all the threats. "Over there. There aren't as many predators—and it's not easy to see from the road. We may have a scuffle or two on the way, but once we get there, we'll be all right."

He couldn't help raising an eyebrow at her as they made their way out onto the dried clay that coated the entire valley. "Considering you're not worried about the dragon, what exactly would count as a 'scuffle'?"

She glanced back at him, a sly grin flickering across her face. "Anything short of two saber cats and an annoyed giant. Why?" Then she laughed at the look he gave her. "I'm kidding. If we go past the ruin we'll have some problems with the skeletons, but they won't be at all difficult to deal with. And I haven't seen too many sabers in this valley, but I have run into bears and some wolves, since prey animals do come here sometimes. Those shouldn't be too big a problem."

Ravenlight skirted a large, lichen-speckled boulder, and paused to collect several vibrantly-colored flowers. "Dragons-tongue," she identified, holding them up for him to see. "These are generally the basis for my resist-fire potions, and while they're not hard to get, this is about the only place they grow wild."

He looked around, scanning the area. "I would imagine a number of unique plants grow here that don't flourish elsewhere."

"There are at least two others, and I use them pretty often." She moved a little further, then crouched to gather several fleshy strands from an ugly, reddish plant stretched across the ground. "Creep cluster," she said in answer to his dubious look. "This restores magicka. They're ugly, but powerful. And over here," she moved to a flat patch of scrub littered with dark blue berries, "these are jazbay grapes. They used to be one of the most valued resources in the Empire, since they had a unique taste and could be used to produce a superior wine—and since they wouldn't grow anywhere but here, it made this area enthusiastically fought over. They have the opposite effect as creep cluster, so I wouldn't eat too many of them raw if you depend at all on your magic."

"You said had, could, and wouldn't there," Drizzt noted, looking at one of the grapes. "Is this no longer the case?"

"Someone apparently came up with a variety that would grow anywhere, but at the expense of the taste. It did a number on the wild ones, too; even the really flavorful ones have maybe a tenth of the sweetness they used to have." Ravenlight made a face. "They're just juicy pulp now, with almost no flavor. But they're useful for magicka poisons."

"Do you use magicka poisons?" He glanced over at her, then back at the slick, treacherous clay underfoot.

"No. I just make them for practice, and to sell." She straightened, tucking jazbay grapes, creep cluster, and dragons-tongue into her pouch. "I know people who like to use them against mages and necromancers, but I've always preferred something more straightforward. In a life-or-death battle against a powerful magic user, I'd just as soon he died quickly, and ordinary poisons are best for that."

He really couldn't argue with that kind of logic.

As it turned out, reaching the quiet area she'd pointed out was no more difficult than she'd said. There was a bear, and the skeletons in the fort—and one lost and extremely annoyed saber cat, which had apparently been attacking anything it came across for some time, judging by the varied remains in the area it had claimed as its temporary lair. The battle was fierce, but quickly over, as neither Elf was taken by surprise. This time, Ravenlight's arrows, coated with the devastating slowing poison, streaked in first, stiffening the immense creature's limbs and allowing Drizzt to dart in and out without danger from the lashing claws. It took only a few minutes before the cat fell.

Ravenlight ruffled the thick fur as she skinned the animal, knocking out its long teeth as she did. "This one was young," she noted. "Or at least younger than some. Fur's not scarred up, which will make it valuable."

Drizzt stirred through the bones it had left. "Strong, too. Looks like we did this area a favor; most of these are human."

Ravenlight glanced over at them and grimaced. "It may be callous of me, but I'm hoping most of those are a necromancer's cult that lived in the area and not travelers." She finished with the pelt and stood. "Come on; the pool is over this way."

It didn't take him long to realize why she'd picked this particular area. The pool was large, meaning that the water could spread out and cool down below scalding, without getting cold. It was also deeper than most of the others, which were little better than glorified puddles.

And there was a long, tall ridge that divided it halfway through.

She gestured at it. "Which side?"

"Eh?" He glanced at her, momentarily puzzled.

Ravenlight eyed him steadily. "I am planning to bathe. You don't have to if you don't want, but please consider that I am not going to soak my armor in that water—and that I have very good aim. So let me know which side of that ridge you'd rather be on, so I can go to the other."

"Ah." He considered, then decided he would take advantage of the rest as well. He gestured to the nearer pool. "I'll take this one."

She nodded and headed for the opposite side, pausing just before she went behind the ridge. "Keep your weapons close," she warned. "This area is safer than most—but it's hard to find a completely safe place in the wilds of Skyrim."

Drizzt tugged off his boots and sat at the edge of the pool, trying to ignore the faint clunks and clatters coming from the opposite ridge. Heat rose from the water beneath him, keeping the air from being as cold as it might have been. He looked around, alert for any threat; then, not seeing anything, he stripped out of his shirt and mail coat. Despite the warmth from the pool, the wind that touched his skin was colder than he expected, and he shivered.

From the other side of the ridge came a splash, a rippling, and then a long-drawn-out sigh. He flushed; then, goaded by the chilly wind, he shed the rest of his clothes and entered the hot spring himself.

It was pleasant, despite the smell of sulfur. Drizzt sank up to his shoulders in the steaming water, sighing as tight muscles relaxed. After being alert and ready to fight for so long, it was good to unwind a little. Still, he glanced at the shore to make sure his scimitars were in reach. As Ravenlight had ruefully pointed out, no place in Skyrim was every completely safe.

For a moment, he simply rested in the hot water. Then he realized that there hadn't been any sound from the other pool, and started to push himself up, wondering if he should make sure she was all right.

"I'm fine, thank you for worrying," a dry voice said instantly. "Kindly stay on your side of the ridge."

He instantly stopped, lowering himself back into the water. "How did you know—"

"I heard the dried clay on the bank fall into the water when you started to move," she answered. "You haven't been in there long enough to be tired of the heat. And I'm not as young as I look."

He frowned, confused. "What?"

"Drizzt, I traveled through five countries on my way to Skyrim." Water swished. He briefly pictured her turning over and blushed. "Men are pretty much the same the world over, regardless of race or location. If they know there's a naked woman somewhere in the area, sooner or later they will try to get a look." As he sputtered, she amended. "The nice ones make themselves believe that they're looking out for her. And that's really much better than the bounders who sneak up to gawk in the bushes."

"Has that happened?" The statement had the ring of experience.

"The last gawker was lucky I didn't know I was Dragonborn," she answered, a hint of a growl in her voice. "I still singed his hair off when I set the bushes he was hiding in on fire. And I havehad some nice ones catch the gawkers and run them off, so I'm less annoyed with those." There was a moment of silence, aside from the rippling as she moved through the water. Then she spoke again, a sly, teasing note in her voice. "Are you going to tell me you've never tried to sneak a look?"

His face felt hotter than the spring as a memory flashed, unbidden, into his mind. "Not intentionally, no!" The young woman had been practicing with a newly-acquired sword, and the exercise left her light shirt transparent and clingy. He had not intended to stare, but he had…noticed. For some reason, the fact that he had later married the girl in question did not make the memory any less embarrassing. "What about you?" he challenged. "Women aren't above that sort of…activity, or so I've noticed. Have youever sneaked a look?"

Ravenlight snorted with laughter. "I have brothers, Drizzt. Three of them. Let's just say you don't have anything I haven't already seen—probably over a thousand times!"

Drizzt blanked out as he tried to process what she'd just said—not to mention why she'd said that. "What?!"

"Bosmer families bathe together," she explained. "We generally didn't wash in the same area of the pool, because my little sister Hawkmane and I didn't want to get involved in the boys' water fights. But those pills would chase each other through the pool and around the bank, for any reason they could think of and sometimes no reason at all. I finally figured out that they thought it was funny that Hawkmane squealed whenever she saw their bare butts, and I had my father put a stop to it."

He blinked, his mind slowly getting back into working order. "Did it work?"

She exhaled deeply, water rippling as she sank back into it. "It did until they started chasing each other around for real. Sparrowwing was the rottenest prankster I have ever known."

"Yes," Drizzt said, recalling some of the stories she'd told. "I seem to recall you saying something about an oversized toad hidden in a pot on the shelf?"

"Mother screamed so loudly our neighbors came over to see what the matter was." Ravenlight shook her head. "And that was one of his milderpranks. That was another reason we never wanted to bathe near the boys, because he'd put itch-moss in our scrub cloths or mix slimy sap in with the soap. I don't know whathe did to the other boys, except it usually resulted in him getting chased out of the pool—and if they caught him, they knocked him down, and rubbed him all over with mud or stinging vines. Once I honestly thought Wolfgold was going to strangle him."

Drizzt flinched. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," she answered wryly, "but if he had anything to do with the five-foot-long water snake that chased me and Hawkmane out of the pool a minute later, we would have both joined Wolfgold."

Since he could not stare at her, he turned to stare at the ridge that separated them. "A five-foot-long water snake?"

"Well, we didn't exactly stop to measure it while we were flying out of the pool, but that's about how long it looked after my father retrieved it and threw into the bushes." Water splashed. "Wolfgold whooped, Sparrowwing started laughing, and the next thing we knew, Wolf was chasing him around the pool and through the trees, both of them mother-naked. The next minute, something long, smooth and scaly brushed up against us. I don't think I've ever moved as fast as I did getting out of there, and she was two steps ahead of me, both of us screaming our heads off. We weren't sureSparrowwing was responsible—but if we'd known, we'd have chased him too. And if he didn't actually get throttled, we'd have shaken him until his teeth rattled."

"He put a water snake in a pool where his entire family was bathing?!" Drizzt shook his head, trying to come up with a reason that did not involve hands-off assassination. "Aren't those poisonous?"

"Well…yes. Almost everything in Valenwood is poisonous in one way or another," Ravenlight answered. "Or it carries some kind of disease. Bosmer are resistant to most poisons—and most diseases, for that matter—because of it. But the snake wasn't deadly. It was actually a fairly friendly type, hard as that is to believe, and popular with young boys as pets." She shuddered, the water around her splashing. "The wretched thing kind of…hugged when it touched us. Unpleasant as that felt against, well, nude hips."

"That was an image I didn't need!" He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make himself picture something—anything—else.

Agitated splashing sounded from the other side of the ridge. "And a memory I didn't need. Blast it, now I feel that wretched thing again!"

Maybe it was empathy. Maybe it was a too-vivid imagination. But either way, Drizzt suddenly bit back a startled curse as he felt the unmistakable sensation of a long, scaly body sliding along his leg. Moving slowly, as there was a chance that there actually was a snake in the pool with him, he slid his hand down, searching for any indication that what he felt was real. Thankfully, he encountered only water, and as he brushed his leg, it dismissed the phantom feeling.
But after that, he decided he'd had enough of the spring. He pulled himself out of the water, his back to the ridge just in case Ravenlight had the same idea, and used his cloak to dry himself off. The area around the springs was heated by the thermal vents, but he could feel the cold nip in the wind, and wanted to get into his clothes again as quickly as possible.

He had just pulled his pants on when he heard a commotion from the other side of the ridge: an animal screech, a startled cry followed by a yelp of pain, and then the whooshing roar of cast fire. He acted without thinking, snatching Twinkle off the ground and bounding over the ridge in one movement.

Ravenlight had already torched one of the large, scabrous rodents, but a second was darting toward her around the pool. Drizzt lunged between them, dispatching it instantly. He glanced back at her, then turned away as he realized she still wasn't dressed.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Ow. I think so, anyway." He felt the warmth of a healing spell swirl behind him. "Stupid thing bit me on the arm. I hate skeevers."

"Skeevers?" He looked down at the bisected creature in front of him and gingerly nudged it with his toe. "Is that what these are called?"

"Yes. Not really a threat by themselves, but they're disease-ridden little beasts, and you almost never get only one in an area." There was a pause. "Don't turn around. I'm getting dressed."

Drizzt cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I wasn't planning on it."

Her smile was audible. "I didn't think you were; just figured I should take some precautions." He heard rustling, then, "If you want to finish dressing as well, it's safe. I've turned my back, too."

"You're very considerate," he said dryly, turning to head back across the ridge.

"Brothers," she repeated. "Although with mine, the mutual back-turning was less modesty and more a way of assuring that no one would be pegged in the butt cheek or small of the back with a hard seed or small rock."

His eyebrows arched. "Was that common?"

"We girls were generally exempt from most of the horseplay, but yes, the boys often came home with a welt or two in uncomfortable spots." She laughed. "We were a little bit crazy, I don't deny; even F-Fire—" she stopped, choking, and took a deep breath before she finished. "Even Firefall thought that, and h-he was best friends with Wolfgold."

Drizzt halted, forcing himself not to turn around. He wanted to. He could hear the pain in her voice, felt the loss, so like the loss of—No. Not here, not now—and desperately wanted to offer her comfort. But prudence advised he wait until they were both dressed. "I take it Firefall was more than just your brother's friend?"

She took a deep breath. Drizzt glanced over his shoulder in spite of himself and saw her tip her head back, her eyes closed and her cheeks wet. "Yes," she whispered at last. "We were close."

"What happened?" His voice was low and gentle.

"He was killed." She choked, then regained control. "By the Thalmor, during the Purge." She swiped at her face. "I—not to be rude, not to be nasty, but could you not ask me about him now? I don't…I don't want to break down, not out here."

He nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to press."

"I know." Ravenlight managed a quavering smile. "And I think I know…why you asked. I just…I'd rather be a little more prepared for it than I am now." She sighed, pulling on her armor. "Gods, I was laughing a few minutes ago."

Drizzt swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. I was the one who brought him up." She shook her head a little. "I thought I had that under control," she muttered, almost inaudibly. "I thought I was…past that."

"I don't think you're ever 'past' the loss of a loved one," Drizzt said, gazing into the distance. "The wound…it might heal on the surface, but underneath it's still raw and painful, and any mention of her—him—will open it again."

"You know." It wasn't a question; more like a confirmation of something already suspected.

"Yes," he answered after a moment. "I know."

"I won't press." Ravenlight spoke quietly. "This isn't the time or the place. But…when you want to talk about her, I'll listen. And I'll tell you about—" she took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'll tell you about Firefall."

Ivarstead was a tiny little place; a few farmhouses, a mill, and an inn. It had taken another three hours of walking from the hot springs to get there—three hours of walking mostly uphill, as they made their way up the lower slopes of the huge mountain. Thankfully, the air had not become noticeably thinner, though there was a sharper nip to the wind. Drizzt enjoyed it; the birch-forested landscape was beautiful, and bounding with game—with, thankfully, few dangerous predators.

Ravenlight, on the other hand, had slowly become more withdrawn as the day went by. She wasn't brooding this time; just distracted. Drizzt kept an eye on her, not sure what to think. If he spoke directly to her, she answered; but she didn't continue the conversation, or add anything to it. And if he didn't ask her something directly, she just made some kind of noise that vaguely fit with the statement, and otherwise said nothing.

She was not so distracted that the appearance of a frostbite spider passed unnoticed, and Wraithcaptor sang a few seconds after a glob of bitingly cold poison lashed past them. Whatever was bothering her hadn't hindered her aim, and the arrow slammed directly into the spider's head, dropping it instantly.

At least she's not ignoring threats. Drizzt retrieved her arrow and removed the sacs of poison behind the giant insect's fangs. It was possible, he mused as he came back, that she was just remembering her sweetheart—Firefall. That would certainly make her distracted and unaware of the world around her.

He told himself not to worry. She was alert enough to see threats, and she did know where she was going. She just needed a little time to herself.

He did notice, however, that she was also thirstier than usual. They couldn't pass a brook or a flowing stream without her stopping to dip out a tankard of cold water, and she drank slowly. When he asked about this, she answered that the back of her throat was sore, and she thought she might be dehydrated.

That made sense, too.

Ravenlight was obviously known in Ivarstead. Everyone who saw her greeted her cheerfully, and only a few gave him a curious look. They stopped at the inn, Ravenlight sitting more or less by herself at a table after requesting a bowl of stew and a glass of mulled wine.

A thick-set man nodded to her as he passed, then looked at Drizzt curiously. "Hello," he greeted. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you with her?"

"Yes." Drizzt nodded to the man. "I'm Drizzt Do'Urden, her friend and companion. You?"

"Klimmek." He held out a work-and-weather-gnarled hand. "Farmer and fisherman. Sometimes I head up to the monastery to leave supplies for them, though she was kind enough to haul the pack up for me about six months back." He looked the two over. "You heading up the Seven Thousand Steps? Most of the traffic through here is pilgrims making the walk; but you look less like a pilgrim than she ever did."

Drizzt chuckled. "I'm not a pilgrim. But we are heading up there." He leaned against the table. "Anything in particular we should be aware of?"

"Mostly wolves, and weather." Klimmek frowned. "The Steps can be treacherous the further up you get. And...well, I haven't seen it, but folk I trust have: there's apparently a frost troll living about two-thirds of the way up the mountain."

"I'll have to remember that." The Drow frowned a little. "Is that all?"

"Pretty much." Klimmek glanced at Ravenlight. "It's not going to be a one-day hike. You do know that, don't you?"

"I had not, though I should have guessed." He brushed a few loose strands of hair back behind his shoulder. "Why?"

"There's some bad weather brewing." Klimmek leaned against a nearby support, frowning a little. "And being caught up on the Seven Thousand Steps without shelter is dangerous. Are you planning on heading up there soon?"

"Yes," Ravenlight answered, without turning to face them. Drizzt looked back at her, noting that she'd eaten barely half of her meal; for the most part, she seemed to be just stirring it around the bowl.

Klimmek didn't seem to notice how oddly she was behaving. "I have a tent I can lend you," he said. "It's a simple thing, but not too difficult to put up, even if it starts storming. May make a difference if you get caught in the storm."

"A large difference." Drizzt nodded. "Yes, and thank you. I'd be grateful." He couldn't help glancing at her again as she stood—leaving, he noted, most of the stew uneaten.

"She feeling all right?" Klimmek raised his eyebrows. Apparently, he had noticed something strange.

"She's been distracted most of the day," Drizzt admitted. "I'm hoping nothing's wrong."

Klimmek grunted. "Not good, if you're heading up the Steps. Keep an eye on her, friend."

Drizzt nodded grimly. "I plan to."

"I'm standing right here," a mildly annoyed voice interjected.

Drizzt raised one eyebrow. "Are you? You seem pretty far away."

He cringed internally as he heard himself, wishing he'd tried a different tactic. He wanted her to react—but it felt wrong, as if he were trying to pick a fight. But Ravenlight didn't respond, aside from a baleful glare, and even that didn't last long. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead as she turned away. "Come on," she muttered. "We need to get going."

Klimmek nodded to Drizzt. "I'll grab that tent," he said quietly. "Go on with her; I'll meet you at the bridge heading to the mountain."

The grizzled man was as good as his word, stopping by with a wrapped tent just before the two Elves crossed the weathered bridge. Drizzt halted to take it, exchanging a few words on where the most dangerous places were, and where the wolf packs were mostly likely to gather. He hoped to learn a little more about the path from the man, but Ravenlight didn't wait. Drizzt looked up after a few seconds to see her quickly vanishing along the path.

He thanked Klimmek for the advice and the tent, slung the bundle of poles and hide on his back, and chased after his wandering companion, trying to keep back a few choice words—and wondering what on earth had gotten into her.

The first two hours of the hike weren't too strenuous. The path was pretty well defined, and the steps not difficult to follow. Every so often, they came across a carved tablet in a stone shrine; to his surprise, Ravenlight stopped at these, silently reading the words. Once or twice, she knelt, bowing her head as if in prayer, before rising to continue.

Drizzt read them himself, realizing that they were the history of the Greybeards; starting with the subjugation of humans by the dragons, and their first, failed attempt to fight them, defeated by the dragons' Voice; then the gift of the Voice, given by Paarthurnax, which enabled the Tongues to finally defeat Alduin. He asked her about the tablets, but she didn't answer, walking on silently.

A few minutes later, a small pack of wolves charged out onto the path, to be immediately met by steel. Drizzt's scimitars laid the first two low, while Ravenlight—though not as swift or as skilled as usual—dealt with the other two in an equally short time. She stopped long enough to skin her kills, but rose silently once she was finished and continued on.

Drizzt frowned, looking after her. "Ravenlight, are you all right?"

"Fine," she answered irritably, rubbing her forehead absently. "I'm fine."

He didn't believe her.

They were about a third of the way up the steps when the storm hit. Stinging pellets of snow and ice pelted them, and biting winds drove them against the cliff face for shelter. Drizzt pulled his cloak tight around himself, raising his hood to protect his face, while Ravenlight called fire into her hand and drew it close. They kept close together, struggling to see through the swirling whiteness, and making their way forward slowly. For about an hour, they made progress, slowly continuing up the Steps.

Then Ravenlight slipped. It was only a second, and she recovered quickly, but Drizzt felt as if she had actually fallen. He'd never seen the nimble Bosmer lose her footing before.

"Are you all right?" he shouted, getting close enough to her to keep the winds from snatching his voice away.

Ravenlight turned to face him, and his eyes widened. Her skin was dead white, her lips blue, and her eyes almost sightless. "It's so blasted cold," she whispered. Even the hand cupping fire shook. "I'm cold."

Drizzt touched her right hand and recoiled; there was barely any heat in it. He looked around, trying to find a sheltered spot to set up the tent. "You're too cold," he said, alarmed. "You need shelter, time to warm up." He saw a sheltered overhang up ahead and started toward it, then halted as he caught an unpleasant smell on the wind. "What is—" Then he remembered something Klimmek had said earlier. "Oh no. Guenhwyvar!"

The black panther appeared just as the frost troll sprang down, and instantly rushed forward to attack. Drizzt pulled Taumaril loose, stepping in front of his half-frozen companion as Guenhwyvar and the troll clashed. The two creatures were almost evenly matched—but the troll, unfortunately, regenerated almost as fast as the panther ripped into it. Even Taumaril's brutal power did little more than inconvenience it.

"Fire," Ravenlight said behind him. She leaned against him a little as she stepped forward, lifting her hand. "Fire will stop it from regenerating." Live flames crackled around her hand as she stretched it out. "Guen! Get back!"

Drizzt glanced at her, noting at once that there was a reddish tint to her eyes, though her voice wasn't resonant. He wasn't sure what to make of that; perhaps her draconic side was just helping her?

Guenhwyvar obeyed, darting safely out of the way of the gush of fire the Bosmer suddenly hurled forward. The troll roared with anguish, charging toward the woman striking it with the one thing it feared. Then Drizzt fired his bow again—once, twice, thrice, each shot slamming it in either the chest or the head. That on top of the relentless stream of fire was too much for the beast, and it fell.

But Drizzt had no time to feel triumphant, because Ravenlight's eyes rolled up, and she, too, collapsed. He caught her before she struck the ground and lifted her up, running past the dead troll to the sheltered overhang.

"Watch her, Guen," he ordered, setting her on a snow-free patch of ground and pulling the skin tent Klimmek had lent him off his back. "She's on the verge of freezing to death. Try to keep her warm."

Guenhwyvar growled worriedly, curling around the unmoving Bosmer. Ravenlight did not respond.

Thankfully, the tent went up quickly even in the storm, and the thick skins kept out the wind. Drizzt unrolled both bedmats, then dug in his pouch and hers for all the skins and furs they had, piling them onto the bedmats. Once finished with that, he half-carried, half-dragged the unresponsive, muttering woman into the shelter of the tent.

Her armor was frigid, and he knew it was contributing to the problem. Using one of the saber-cat pelts to cover her, he unbuckled the straps and slid the freezing metal off, stacking it to the side. Once she was out of her armor, he tucked her under the furs, wrapping her as securely as he could without smothering her.

Guenhywvar joined them in the tent, burrowing under the furs herself and pressing her warm body against the Wood-Elf's half-frozen one. Drizzt sat beside them, chafing her right hand to try to return circulation to it. After a few minutes, Guenhwyvar growled as if in distress. He looked at her, then at Ravenlight's dead-white face, and groaned.

"She's not warming up." He remembered his first experience with killing cold and frowned, worried. He hadn't seen enough wood nearby to make any sort of a fire, and…

Guenhwyvar nudged the furs, looking at him significantly. He slid his hand beneath them, trying to keep it away from the Elf, and realized what the problem was. The furs weren't warm. And Ravenlight didn't have enough body heat at the moment to handle that.

There was a simple solution. It was just one he'd been trying not to think about. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and acted.

It helped that she was cold. Sliding beneath the furs next to what felt like a living ice block wasn't as…suggestive as it might have been, and made it clear that he was trying to keep someone from freezing to death, and not…

For a moment, he just lay still, feeling warmth beginning to circulate back into the half-frozen form beside him, and resolutely thinking about anything but what he was doing. Then Ravenlight mumbled something and turned over, throwing one arm across his chest.

His eyes widened, and he went completely rigid. It wasn't just how cold her hands were—though they felt like someone had carved them out of the side of a glacier. It was the…proximity, and the unexpected move. But… he looked down at her face to see that her eyes were closed, and her face slack. She was asleep. Drizzt sighed in resignation, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

A few moments later, he realized something odd. Most of Ravenlight was slowly warming up as his heat was shared with her—but her face, resting near his shoulder, felt like he was sitting near a fire. Moving carefully, as he did not want her to wake up, he brushed his hand across her forehead.

What he felt confirmed his suspicion: she was burning up.

Ravenlight had a fever.

No wonder she had so much trouble on the way up here, he realized. It also explained the peculiar listlessness in Ivarstead, along with the troubling lack of focus. And in a strange way, it made their current…position a little more bearable. Not only was she asleep—she was feverish, and therefore completely unaware of what she'd done. He gently tugged one of the furs a little further up, then placed his hand under his head and closed his eyes. He might as well try to get some sleep himself.

All the same, he silently prayed that he would be the first to wake up in the morning.

The first thing Drizzt realized in the morning was that the whistling of the wind had finally stopped. The second was the thing that had actually awakened him: a large paw, gently but insistently batting at his face.

"Ow," he muttered, grimacing and turning his head away. "Guen, go home." It was warm under the furs, with her curled up next to—

His eyes popped open as he realized that he was lying next to someone—someone who...wasn't wearing very much. Then he remembered the previous night: Ravenlight's slip, the fight with the frost troll, how cold her hand was...and then putting up the tent, wrapping her in furs, and finally...

He glanced over at her, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was still asleep. Her face was flushed and shiny, her hair matted, and her breathing shallow and fast. He carefully slid out from under the furs, tucking them more closely around her, and pulled on his clothes. They were frigidly cold, and he bit back more than one yelp as the icy cloth settled on his skin.

"If it's this bad for me, what would it be like for her?" He chafed his arms, trying to convince the stiff, cold-imbued fabric to warm up a little. He didn't want to imagine how cold her armor would be; it had been bad enough while she was wearing it.

Searching for something else she could wear—something warmer—Drizzt searched her pack. He found several pairs of light boots, a simple blue dress, and...

Hm. Tangled in with metal supplies he guessed were from her blacksmith projects was a large wad of long leather strips. He looked at the leather strips, then over at the furs. Not perfect, perhaps...but better than anything else she has. I just hope she understands when she's feeling better.

A few hours later, the pair continued up the steps. Ravenlight walked beside the mountain face this time, with less than her normal grace. She was muffled in fur: a saber-cat pelt tied tightly around her torso, wolf-skins around her legs, a couple of fox furs on her arms, and a roughly-halved deerskin tied around her feet and shins. The last had given him the most trouble; he had never before considered what odd shape feet were, or how hard it was to wrap something around them to keep out snow.

She had helped him tie the straps around her legs and arms, showing particular interest in the one around her left arm; as a result, it was probably the most secure. It looked...well, if he was bluntly honest, it looked pretty ridiculous. But she was warm, and that was really all he cared about.

At least, until she started to have trouble walking. She wasn't stumbling, not really; it was more as if she couldn't figure out where her feet were supposed to go. For the most part, she was able to step normally, but every so often, she landed with tooth-jarring force—or worse, missed where she was coming down. Drizzt watched her carefully, his hand resting on her shoulder to steady her whenever she started to fall.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, steadying her after a particularly bad stumble.

"Awful," she mumbled, leaning against him for support. "Gods, I'm tired. How much further?"

Drizzt looked up and breathed a long sigh of relief as he saw, shining in the early light, a large building up ahead. "Not much further. We're almost there. Here." He looped her arm around his neck. "Hang on to me; I'll help you along."

Her head drooped forward a little, but she gripped his hand. "Okay," she mumbled, her eyes closing. "Thanks."

Several punishing minutes later, Drizzt shoved through the doors and entered stone halls blessedly heated by several dozen braziers. Ravenlight leaned against him heavily, blinking as she looked around. "Oh," she mumbled. "We made it."

"Dragonborn?" A calm voice spoke, and an old man dressed in hooded grey robes appeared at the end of the hall. He regarded the pair curiously. "Who is your companion?"

"I'm Drizzt Do'Urden," he answered, not entirely sure if she could even understand the man—and suddenly hoping that he would not throw him out. "I'm her friend. Can you help her? She's feverish."

The Greybeard raised an eyebrow and came up to her, lightly touching her forehead. "Ah," he said after a moment of peering intently at her, "she's got ataxia. Were you attacked by anything on the way up here?"

"A skeever bit her at the hot springs," Drizzt answered, guessing that the mangy, rat-like creature had probably carried the disease. "She healed the wound, though."

"Yes; she is a fair healer." The Greybeard turned, beckoning for them to follow. "Unfortunately, Restoration only heals wounds or other damages; it does nothing to diseases."

Ravenlight followed after them, blinking as she tried to focus her eyes, and occasionally bouncing off a wall. Drizzt dropped back to walk beside her, trying to keep her from crashing into anything that would injure her. "You do have something that will help her, don't you?" he asked, trying not to beg.

The man chuckled. "Rest assured, Drizzt Do'Urden; we rarely fall ill here at the Throat of the World, but that doesn't mean we nevercome down with a fever or an ache—or that we don't occasionally find ourselves ousting a skeever infestation. We keep disease curatives here."

"Good," Ravenlight said blearily. "This is annoying." She attempted to sidestep an outcropping in the wall, tangled her feet, and nearly fell. Drizzt caught and steadied her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She stopped trying to walk and rubbed the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. "Nothing makes sense," she said, frustrated. "And I can't feel my fingers. Or my feet."

"But you're not hallucinating?" Drizzt wasn't sure what the symptoms of ataxia were, but he knew that victims of severe fevers sometime hallucinated.

"I don't think so." Ravenlight blinked. "Not that I could tell."

"Fevers can be like that." The Greybeard entered a room, then returned a few moments later with a small bottle. "Here; drink this."

Ravenlight obeyed. She swallowed, and grimaced, shaking her head. "All right, that wasn't as bad as Vaermina's Torpor. Still, yech."

Drizzt looked her over. "Did it work?"

She nodded, looking around and flexing her hands. "They work quickly. At least the world makes sense again—and I can feel my hands and feet." She looked at the Greybeard and smiled wryly. "Thank you, Arngier."

"You are welcome, Dragonborn." Arngier chuckled. "Now, what brought you to High Hrothgar as winter approached?"

Ravenlight glanced at Drizzt and sighed. "I've found evidence that there might be…a Shout that could help me in my battle against Alduin. But I have no idea where it could be found."

Arngier paused, his face growing slightly darker. "What kind of Shout?"

"I believe it was called Dragonrend," Ravenlight said, choosing her words carefully. "It was used in the past to defeat Alduin."

Arngier frowned deeply. "And where did you hear of this Shout?"

"Sky Haven Temple," Drizzt said. "It was inscribed on Alduin's Wall."

The man's face darkened to a thundercloud. "The Blades! I should have known they would get involved in some way. They would never leave a Dragonborn alone!"

Ravenlight took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "They have as much a right to be concerned about Alduin as everyone else in the world, considering that they have as much to lose," she said levelly. "And they proved helpful. There's much I know about my enemy now that I wouldn't have known without Delphine and Esbern's help—much as, without your help, I would not know how to find my path in the first place."

"The Blades think of nothing but battle and conquest!" Arngier stormed. Drizzt wasn't even sure he'd heard the Bosmer's words. "They will do their best to turn you away from the path of wisdom. If you have chosen to ally yourself with them, then there is nothing we have for you."

"Even to stave off the destruction of the world?" Ravenlight said quietly. "Is even that not enough for you to put aside your dislike of a nearly-extinct order?"

Arngier's face darkened even more. "If it is time for the world to end, then let it. I have nothing for you."

Ravenlight's hand shot forward, snagging Drizzt's arm just before he went for his scimitars. "Don't," she warned. "If they won't help us, there's nothing we can do." She started to turn away, pulling him with her. "Masters of the Voice," she reminded in an undertone. "I could knock you on your back. They could splatter you all over the wall, and I don't want to have to scrape you off."

"Arngier!"

The word slammed against them. Ravenlight quickly shifted her position, putting herself between Drizzt and the Greybeard approaching them both from the hall. Einarth was only speaking—but his speech was enough to knock her companion to his knees.

"Rok los Dovakiin Strundu'ul. Rok fen tinvaak Paarthurnax."

As the echoes faded, Ravenlight put her hand under Drizzt's arm, helping him up. "You all right?" she asked, preparing a subtle healing spell in case he was more than just shaken.

He nodded, rising slowly. "Just dazed. Was he Shouting?"

"No." She eyed him wryly. "And I don't think he was talking to us, either."

"He was not." Arngeir spoke behind them. "I…I apologize, Dragonborn. I allowed my emotions to overpower me. Master Einarth has reminded me of my duty." He took a deep breath. "It is…time for you to meet Paarthurnax, the master of our order."

"Paarthurnax?" Ravenlight straightened, frowning a little. I've heard that name before. Where? "The one you said lived by himself on the Throat of the World?"

Arngier nodded. "I believe you are…finally ready to learn how to open the path to where he dwells. Come with me, into the courtyard. There you will learn the shout you need to open the path to the summit of the Throat of the World."

She nodded. "All right then. Let's go."

As they entered the courtyard, Arngier realized that Drizzt had tagged along. He stopped, frowning at the Drow. "I don't believe I invited you to accompany us."

Ravenlight shifted her weight subtly, coming closer to her companion. "Would you accept that I invited him?" she asked, her voice a careful few degrees above frosty. "Drizzt has given his word to stand beside me in my fight against Alduin, and I trust him with my life. I see no reason to leave him out of something like this, merely because he does not have a dragon's soul." Her face softened, and she leaned forward. "I wouldn't have made it up the mountain this time if not for him," she pointed out, in a considerably gentler tone. "Does that not grant him a place by my side? I will vouch for him."

Arngier sighed. "Stubborn as the mountains. I suppose that is a trait one must have, when the World-Eater is your enemy. Very well. If he can withstand your Voice, he can join you."

He strode toward the northern corner of the courtyard, where a wall of hissing white blocked a path leading onward. About halfway to the upward path, he stopped and leaned forward slightly, before breathing out three words.

"Lok Vah Koor."

With a rush and a crackle, three words appeared on the ground. Ravenlight came up beside him, peering at them intently. Drizzt remained where he was, watching as she took in the words. Then his eyebrows arched as light, similar to the radiance of a dragon soul, streamed out of the Greybeard and into the Bosmer. She gasped a little, then straightened. Arngier eyed her.

"You are confident of it?"

Ravenlight nodded. "I am." She beckoned to Drizzt, then strode toward the blocked path. A few steps away from the high winds and stinging ice particles, she leaned forward slightly and shouted.

"LOK VAH KOOR!"

It helped that the Shout was not aimed at him. It also helped that they were outside in the open, and not in echoing stone halls. Drizzt glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling up as he saw that Arngier looked, for some reason, almost disappointed that he could withstand the Shout. But he didn't stand around to savor it. Ravenlight had already started up the path, and he pursued her.

The trail leading to the top of the mountain was bitterly cold. But this time, wrapped in furs and leather, neither of the two was more than uncomfortable. It also helped that the wind was somehow channeled only in the weather barriers that they encountered every few hundred yards, leaving the rest of the path still. Each time they approached the barriers, Drizzt fell back a few steps, while Ravenlight used the Shout to disperse the barriers.

"How many times can you do that?" he asked after the third one. "Shout, I mean. Is it hard on your throat?"

"They have a draining effect," Ravenlight admitted, jogging through the just-cleared path. "Some of them worse than others. This one's not too bad; I'm recovered from it before we reach the next barrier."

"It does have a…gentler feel than some of them." Drizzt ran easily beside her, his boots squeaking on the fine powder snow. "That one you learned in the Forsaken Crypt, for instance; I could feel how dark it was when you said the word. But this Shout feels…warm, almost kindly."

Ravenlight laughed. "It should. This one's called Clear Skies; the words mean Sky, Spring, and Summer."

"Ah." Then his head snapped up and his eyes narrowed as he heard a familiar grunting roar up ahead. "Ravenlight!"

She swung her bow off her back. "I hear it. Let me get some shots in before you go after it." The arrows weren't poisoned—she didn't have time. But they were the sharper glass arrows—and Wraithcaptor was a more powerful bow. She fired three times as the bear came into view, the arrows sinking into its shoulder and neck. Hampered and in pain, the bear couldn't react fast enough as Drizzt lunged toward it, his blades flashing.

Thankfully, the fight was over quickly, and the bear collapsed, its blood steaming bright crimson against the snow. Ravenlight carefully retrieved her arrows as they stripped the skin off the creature, and collected its claws. "Hopefully this is the only one," she muttered. "After that bout with ataxia, I'm not exactly my tireless self."

He looked at her worriedly. "Are you still feeling sick?"

"No. I'm just tired. Honestly, having a fever takes a lot out of you, and trying to sleep with one isn't exactly restful." She sighed, swiping a stray hair out of her face. "I don't know how much real sleep I got last night."

Drizzt carefully made sure he didn't react to that. But he still had to ask. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

Ravenlight exhaled noisily, running a hand through her hair. "Gods, why do you ask? It felt like Vaermina, Namira and Sheogorath had teamed up to make my night miserable. After I drained myself roasting the troll, I don't remember anything for at least an hour, and then it was all fever dream and possible hallucination, where you're not sure if you're awake or asleep, up, down—or even if you're alive, for that matter." She paused. "I do, at least, remember finally being warm, which was pleasant after how cold I'd been." She turned quickly, as he sounded like he was choking on something. "You all right?"

"Ah—yes. I'm fine." He spoke a little too quickly, making her eye him suspiciously.

She considered her next words carefully, taking in mind his question as well as the purple tinge currently staining the tips of his ears. "Did something happen last night I should know about?"

"Nothing unusual." His voice was steady this time, but his ears turned an even brighter purple, and he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Ravenlight considered. Aside from the residual all-over ache left behind from a fever, and the lingering tiredness, she didn't feel anything unusual, which meant that if anything had happened, it hadn't been…well…serious. But whatever it was…

As a sister with a number of brothers, Ravenlight had become sensitive to how far she could push a tease before she was chased by someone intent on dunking her in the bathing pond or rubbing her hair full of mud. She also knew which situations were open to a pushed tease, and this one…It was right on the brink, so she'd have to be careful. But…

"You do know your ears turn purple when you blush, don't you?"

Then, before he could react, she raced off, giggling impishly.

"LOK VAH KOOR!"

The curtain of freezing mist faded away, revealing, at last, the path to the top of the mountain. Sighing with relief, the pair made their way past the curtain of rock and up onto the summit. Ravenlight looked around curiously, her eyebrows arched. The clouds were gone, and the sunlight of late afternoon shimmered dazzlingly off the carpet of snow.

I wonder; where would Paarthurnax live? She didn't see any sort of shelter; no structures at all, in fact, except an old, ruined…dragon wall…

The words of the tablet on the mountain echoed in her mind: Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; together they taught Man to use the Voice...

The truth came to her at the same moment as the bellow sounded overhead. Drizzt jerked up, grabbing for Taumaril. Ravenlight instantly caught his hand, shaking her head.

"Wait!"

"Wait? For what?" He saw it first, and frowned, noting how ragged its wings were. Then his eyes widened. "You don't think—"

The dragon landed a few yards away from them. Not only were its wings so tattered that it was a small miracle it could still fly; its eyes were clouded, its scales grayish-white, and several of its facial spikes were broken. But it did not appear to be battered so much as…old.

Very, very old.

"Drem yol lok," he rumbled, his voice almost amused. "Greetings, wuunderniik. I am Paarthurnax. What brings two Elves to my strunmah, my mountain?"

"We were looking for you," Ravenlight answered, still surprised by the discovery. "I will admit, neither one of us was…exactly expecting a dragon."

This time, he definitely laughed. It was an odd sound, rough and rocky, but recognizable as a laugh. "I am as my father Akatosh made me." Then he leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Ravenlight's, and sniffed. "As are you, Dragonborn."

"You know who I am, then?" Ravenlight tipped her head, curious. "The other dragons never seemed to know unless I revealed myself somehow."

"Zu'u unstriid mindrus braan kul do Bormah," he said, before looking between them again. "But tell me, volaan: why are you here? Why do you intrude on my meditation?"

"The Greybeards sent us," Ravenlight answered. "There is a Shout I must learn; they said I should speak with you."

"Hmmm." Paarthrurnax shifted his weight back a few feet, regarding them both. "There are formalities to be observed when two dov first meet. By long tradition, the elder speaks first." He swung his head toward the ruined wall. "Feel my Thu'um in your bones, and if you be truly Dovahkiin—match it!"

He roared, and for the first time, Ravenlight heard the words of the Thu'um as spoken by a dovah. The Dov stirred. Drizzt looked at her and gasped softly; she guessed that her eyes had gone red again. But she was…remote, oddly; remote from his surprise, from the heat of fire that gushed near them, and from the fact that she had to do anything but answer Paarthurnax's shout.

The Wall crackled, and a mark appeared on it. As if in a trance, Ravenlight moved toward it, her eyes locked on the word. She already knew the first word of Fire Breath; Yol. The second one flared into her mind now, supported by the knowledge of the unspeakably ancient creature behind her. Toor.

"A gift, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax rumbled. "The words of Fire. Feel it as the dov do. And greet me, not as joor, as mortal—but as a Dovah!"

Ravenlight, her eyes glowing with an eerie garnet fire, turned to face the ancient dragon. She inhaled, not too deeply, then Shouted, facing him. "YOL."

Fire washed across Paarthurnax, surrounding him. But unlike the angry fire that had ravaged the frost dragon in Dawnstar, this did the old creature no harm. In fact, he sighed deeply, rippling his body as the flames caressed him and faded.

"Ahhh; sossedov los mul. The dragonblood runs strong in you." His clouded eyes settled on her kindly. "It is long since I have had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind."

"I've never seen anything like that," Drizzt said softly. His hand rested on black fur; he couldn't remember when he'd called Guenhwyvar, but it felt right, having her as well to witness this. Even seeing Ravenlight's eyes change after the battle with the dragon hadn't brought home the reality of her draconic side; and she certainly hadn't shown kinship with any of the ones she'd fought. But this was…right.

Paarthurnax turned to regard him, tipping his head sideways in curiosity. "And who is this, Dovahkiin?" He shifted forward, sniffing curiously. Guenhwyvar bristled and growled, but didn't move.

"His name is Drizzt," Ravenlight said, coming up to stand beside him. "My trusted companion and friend."

Paarthurnax gazed silently at the Drow for a moment, before speaking again. "Most intriguing; you are not from Nirn, or even Mundus. Even more intriguing, the Divines favor you strongly."

"The Divines?" Drizzt's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Niist haalvut nis kos tozein, their touch cannot be mistaken." Paarthurnax drew back slightly, giving the startled Drow—and his still-growling cat—a little more room. "Kyne's, in particular. I should know." He turned to Ravenlight again. "But come. What is your business here?"

"Dragonrend." It almost felt wrong to say the word to him; but still, it had to be found. "I need to learn the words to Dragonrend. The Greybeards sent me up to speak with you." She paused, seeing the ancient dragon's face close on hearing this. "I must learn it to stop Alduin."

Paarthurnax looked them both over. "Why do you wish to stop Alduin?"

"Besides the fact that I was apparently born to do so?" Ravenlight opened her hands. "I am Dragonborn. It's my destiny to face him, and I'd rather be alive at the end of that confrontation. Besides, I like this world. I like the people; the land. Even those I despise—I don't want to see them just...swept away, erased from existence."

The dragon smiled. "There are those who say that this world is but the egg of the next. What of the next world? Would you keep it from hatching?"

"An egg that is not brooded by the hen dies, and one that hatches too soon merely breaks," Ravenlight countered. "The next world should come only when it is time—or it may not come at all."

Paarthurnax laughed again. "Hi los qobo voth vun ahrk qolor, you are swift with tongue and wit. Well-said, Dovahkiin. Ro fus; perhaps you only delay the forces that work to quicken the end of the world. Even those who ride Time's currents cannot see past Time's end."

"So you'll teach her the Shout then?" Drizzt didn't hold much hope—but at least Paarthurnax was being more reasonable than Arngier had been.

But Paarthurnax shook his head. "Krosis, sorrowfully, no," he explained. "It cannot be known to me. Your kind, joorre, mortals, created it as a weapon against the dov, dragons. Our hadriime, our minds cannot even comprehend its concepts."

"Flegemos tenthehar," Ravenlight muttered. "Is it...written down someplace? Is there any way to learn it?"

Paarthurnax turned slightly. "Do you know, Dovahkiin, why I live here on the Monhaviin, which you name Throat of the World?"

Ravenlight shrugged. "I assume to keep away from the rest of the world and to be hidden from those who would take your presence ill."

He chuckled. "That was one reason, yes. But there is another." He turned, looking across the frosty landscape. "This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim. Zok rivak strunmah, the great mountain of the world. It was here that the ancient Tongues, first mortal masters of the voice, brought Alduin to battle and defeated him."

"Here?" Ravenlight and Drizzt looked across the ice-encrusted mountaintop with new respect. The one exception was Guenhwyvar, still growling irritably. Drizzt ruffled her neck fur, trying to calm her down.

"Hush, Guen, it's all right."

Paarthurnax looked at the panther suddenly. "Your beast; she is not of this sovaar, is she? This plane?"

"No." Drizzt glanced up at the ancient dragon, wondering if he should be surprised that he'd sensed this. "She's an astral creature."

"Ol Zu'u grunah, as I suspected. It is not my presence she objects to."

"Paarthurnax?" Ravenlight's eyes were locked on the air a few yards away. "What the hell am I seeing?"

"Faal Tiid-Ahraan: the Time Wound." Paarthurnax exhaled gustily. "The Tongues did not defeat Alduin with Dragonrend alone. Alduin was not truly defeated; if he were, you would not be here today, looking for the weapon to use against him. They crippled him with Dragonrend, but it was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the Kel—the Elder Scroll."

Ravenlight's eyes widened, and she whistled. Drizzt just looked puzzled. "A what?"

"Hah ko diir; how to explain this in your tongue." Paarthurnax furrowed his brow in thought. "The dov have words for things that the joor do not. They are...artifact from outside of time. They do not exist—yet they have always existed. Rah wahlaan. They are fragments of creation."

Drizzt swallowed hard. In his experience, anything described with those words generally had a very largewarning label attached; usually AVOID AT ALL COSTS IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE/SOUL/SANITY/EXISTENCE. "And the Tongues used one of these as a weapon against Alduin?"

"Geh, in a way. They used it to cast him adrift on the currents of Time."

"They threw him into the future where he would be my problem." Ravenlight realized. "How kind of them."

"It was not intentional. They hoped he would be forever lost. Meyye. I knew better. Tiid go amantive, time flows ever onward. One day, he would surface. Which is why I lived here; I knew where he would emerge—but not when."

"A Time-Wound." Ravenlight shook her head. "Good to know mages aren't the only ones to make crazy decisions. How does this help me with learning Dragonrend, though?"

"Tiid krent. Time shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin." Paarthurnax shifted his weight slightly, looking back at the two. "If you were to bring a Kel, an Elder Scroll, here to this spot, you may be able to send yourself back to the other side of the break. There, you could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."

The two Elves exchanged a long look before Ravenlight shrugged. "Not as if we really have another choice. Do you have any idea where we could find an Elder Scroll?"

Paarthurnax shook his head. "Krosis, no. I know little of what has passed below in these long years I have lived up here. You are likely better informed than I. Someone who has studied history would know."

"Esbern, maybe?" Drizzt glanced at Ravenlight,who grimaced.

"Maybe. Though I don't know if he'd have any real idea; his area of expertise was dragons, not potentially dangerous artifacts." She frowned, thoughtful. "There's a Loremaster at the College of Winterhold, though, and a Mages' College would have reason to keep track of those."

"Trust your instinct, Dovahkiin." Paarthurnax loomed closer; but oddly enough, the motion didn't appear to be a threat so much as a strange benediction. "Your blood will show you the way."

"A moment, Dovahkiin."

Ravenlight halted as she started to follow Drizzt and Guenhwyvar down the mountain. She hadn't thought that such a big creature could whisper, but he was pretty close to it. "Yes?"

"A word about your companion." Paarthurnax seemed almost worried as he looked after the pair. "Be watchful."

Ravenlight swallowed, a cold knot twisting in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Rok los ovkod, he is trustworthy. But Kyne is not the only one with an interest in him." He frowned. "A touch only, and one he rejects; but there is another. I do not know it; it is most like Mephala, but also like Namira—even Molag Bal." He looked down at her. "A Daedra wishes him—and will not take his rejection lightly. Be watchful, Dovahkiin; he does not know the extent of this desire."

Ravenlight's eyes burned red, her hands clenching so hard her nails dug into her skin. Molag Bal was the lord of violent domination, Mephala the lady of treachery, and Namira queen over all things despised and disgusting. The idea of any of them coming after her friend—Not if I can help it. She wasn't sure if the snarl was internal or out loud. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm her sudden rage.

"I will be watchful," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "By Kynareth, Talos, and Akatosh himself, I will be watchful."

Noon glittered on the trees below as Drizzt and Ravenlight worked their way down the last of the Seven Thousand steps. Ravenlight paused to look at the roofs of the little town below.

"What would you say if I suggested we stay at Vilemyr Inn for the night?"

"What would you say if I kissed you?" Drizzt asked, only half-joking. He stretched his back. "I'm used to sleeping on cold rock, but that's not to say I enjoy it."

"Same here." Ravenlight reddened. "And last night—"

"It was necessary," Drizzt said quickly. "The less said about that, the better."

She coughed. "Indeed." There was a moment of awkward silence as they both looked away from each other, then she started forward again. "Anyway, I'm cold, I'm hungry, and my legs are about to kill me. And I want to put my armor back on." She flashed an impish smirk at him. "You have many talents, Drizzt, but tailor isn't one of them."

"It was better than watching you freeze slowly in front of me," he rejoined. "And you helped me with that."

"Yes, half out my mind with fever." She her meticulously wrapped left arm. "I remember doing that and feeling like it was very important, but I still have no idea why."

"Would fever reasoning make sense afterward?" Drizzt glanced sideways at her.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Probably not. It was just...that was probably the clearest I felt until I drank that curing potion."

There was silence for a few more moments. "So," Drizzt said at last, "we'll be making our way up to Winterhold after this?"

"Yes," Ravenlight answered. "With any luck, the College Loremaster can point us in the right direction." She exhaled and shook her head. "Arngier really wasn't much help."

"He certainly had some..." Drizzt searched for the right word, "strong views on those, didn't he?"

"I've never heard Elder Scrolls called 'blasphemous' before. Dangerous as hunting a quill-furred saber cat in nothing but your skin? Yes. Blasphemous? No." She sensed an icy patch and swiveled to the side to avoid it.

"Are those often topics of conversation?" Drizzt avoided the same patch of ice.

"Not really. I heard one mentioned once when I was..." She frowned as she remembered, "about twenty years old. We were in a fairly large city, and it was the curator at the Temple. I was curious, so I pestered him for information until he was ready to throw me out."

"Did you learn anything helpful?"

"Mostly just that a sect called the Moth Priests tend the ones in the Imperial City in Cyrodil—and that trying to read them unprepared could cause blindness." She shrugged. "Hopefully, once we find one, I won't actually have to read it; just open it near the Wound and let the two react to each other."

"Do you have any idea where to find one?"

"That I don't know—and neither did he, or at least he wouldn't tell me." She shrugged again, hopping down a broken spot on the Steps. "I wasn't as...level-headed then as I am now; he may have realized I had an idea of haring off after one and wanted to discourage me."

"And now we have to find one." He sighed. "Hopefully we won't have to head to Cyrodil to do so."

"I doubt the one the Tongues used would have migrated all the way to the Imperial City in the time between the defeat of Alduin and now," Ravenlight pointed out. "People don't really like to haul those around. If there's any way they can be protected close to where they were found, that way is typically used, since the Scrolls are dangerous. There should still be one in Skyrim."

Afternoon light gilded the landscape as they finally came off the Steps and entered Ivarstead. Drizzt and Ravenlight walked through the quiet streets, heading for Vilemyr Inn. This time, Ravenlight laughingly greeted those who called out to her, apologizing for her previous rudeness a few times.

The Inn wasn't bustling, but it wasn't empty, either. A pretty woman with short blonde hair sat with a lute, playing an intricate melody, while several of the townsfolk sat along the walls, chatting. Unusually, a scruffy-looking man in tatty black robes sat by himself at a dark corner, a bottle of mead in front of him. His eyes locked onto Ravenlight as she came in, heading straight to the counter.

"Two rooms, Wilhelm," she said, pushing the coin toward him, "and two bowls of whatever you've got on the fire, too."

He laughed. "Feeling better, are you? If you hadn't run off fast as you did the other day, I'd have tried to dissuade you from heading up the mountain while you were sick."

"You could tell?" Ravenlight ran a hand through her hair, chuckling ruefully. "I didn't know."

"You're not exactly the only one who gets cross-grained and short while you're coming down with a fever," he answered. "I've seen it happen before. All right; you and your friend have the two rooms on the right, and I'll have Lynly bring you your stew."

"Thank you." She smiled, then walked toward the table Drizzt had chosen. She noticed he was talking with Klimmek again, and her smile widened.

"Hey," a raspy voice said suddenly, making her jump. "You look like someone who can hold her liquor. Care to test yourself against me?"

Ravenlight turned to see the scruffy man in black eyeing her. His eyes looked a little wild, and his face was the unhealthy red of the perpetual drunk. "Ah—no thank you."

"You're sure?" He pulled an exaggeratedly sad face. "Truly?"

"Yes. I'm sure." She moved past quickly, rejoining her companion.

Drizzt glanced at her. "Something wrong?"

"Not necessarily wrong," she answered dryly, "but I don't want to have a drinking contest with him. And he didn't look like he would gladly accept a 'no'."

Whether her words had inspired him, or simply been self-fulfilling prophecy, the man refused to leave her in peace. He pestered her constantly, barely letting twenty minutes go by without asking her to join him. Drizzt was barely able to keep him from following her into her room when she went to change into her armor.

"Come on!" the man whined as she came out, grabbing her arm. "Surely it couldn't hurt to have a drop or two with old Sam Guevenne, could it?"

Ravenlight sighed in resignation, shaking the man's grubby fingers off again. "Fine, fine," she said irritably. "Just give me a minute. I'll be back."

Drizzt raised his eyebrows as she walked up to him. "You're going to have a drinking contest with him, then?"

She scowled. "And regret it tomorrow, but there's no other way to rid of this pest. I think if I said no and walked into my room, he'd follow me in there and keep begging."

"You're right about that." He shook his head. "All right. A somewhat later start than we'd intended, then?"

"Yes." She sighed. "And I will be feeling sick, so don't you dare laugh at me when we head out."

He widened his eyes at her, suggesting wounded innocence. "The thought never crossed my mind."

Ravenlight snorted, rolling her eyes as she walked over to join him.

In all fairness, Drizzt couldn't say he minded getting to sleep late. High Hrothgar may have been open to the Dragonborn, but they were just barely tolerant of him, and Ravenlight refused to take hospitality her companion wasn't included in. Which meant a repeat of their first, awkward night up on the slopes. It had been only slightly less uncomfortable the second time around.

In contrast, Vilemyr Inn—while rough—was warm, and the beds blessedly soft. He stretched like a cat, turning over and listening for any sound in the next room. Then he sat up, frowning. He could hear Wilhelm moving in the front, and Lynly Star-Sung tuning her lute; but there was no sound at all from the second room. He'd have expected something: perhaps her normal, even breathing, or snoring this morning—possibly even a few moans as the hangover made itself known. Perfect silence was…sinister.

He rolled off the bed and to his feet, trying to come up with a reason that didn't immediately involve the Dark Brotherhood. But as he hurried out of his door and to her room, he fully expected to find her lying dead, her throat cut or a dagger in her back.

So to find a completely empty room was both a relief and a shock. It became more of a shock when a closer look revealed that she had never been in it. The bed had not been slept in. There were no prints to mark where uncomfortably wet boots had been thrown. Nor were there any signs to suggest that someone had been drunk in that room.

Suddenly more uneasy than when he thought she'd been attacked, Drizzt left the room. He knew Lynly had been up most of the night, so she was the one he went to.

"Do you know where Ravenlight is? She hasn't been to her room."

"No, she never went back there." The bard lowered her instrument. "She started drinking with that scruffy old tavern rat and just kept going. Wilhelm said they went through his entire stock of Black-Briar mead. By about their eighth round, they were both pretty... happy. He suggested they go out and she agreed." She paused, thinking. "You know...I never saw her come back in."

"Go out?" Drizzt frowned. "What were they going to do?"

"He said have fun." Lynly blushed. "I doubt they were going to...you know...if they'd been planning on that, she had a room. But he said...let me think." She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in thought. "He said, 'The night is young. Let's head out and have fun! Live a little!'"

Warning bells went off in his head. "And she agreed to that?"

"She was quite drunk." Lynly grimaced. "At that point, I think she'd have agreed to…tying a bell on a giant's toe, if he suggested it."

"Please the gods he didn't." Drizzt looked around. "I'd best head out, then; find out where she is." And I desperately hope she's not in any serious trouble.

Ravenlight wasn't in Ivarstead. Nor was she in the Rift. In fact, after several hours of fruitless searching across increasingly larger swathes of territory, Drizzt found himself wondering if his missing companion was even still in Skyrim. At last, he realized that there had been something extremely strange about her drinking companion, and that he needed reinforcements.

"Come, Guen!"

The panther materialized, looking at him curiously. Drizzt knelt beside her. "Ravenlight's missing," he explained. "I need you to find her."

Guenhwyvar gave him a skeptical look, as if reminding him that he was the ranger. He chuckled ruefully. "I know," he answered, stroking her neck. "But she was…drinking with someone strange. I think he might have something to do with how hard it is to find her."

The panther's ears flicked back, but she turned, sniffing the air, and sensing for clues only she could detect. For a moment, she seemed puzzled, turning in place and testing the air in every direction. But, just as he was starting to fear that even Guenhwyvar couldn't find her, the panther found the scent she needed. She ran forward several steps to the west, then paused and looked back at Drizzt significantly. He instantly blew his whistle to summon Andahar, springing onto the unicorn's back the moment it appeared.

Guenhwyvar started to run, and he followed, bending low over Andahar's neck. It occurred to him, as the scenery started to blur, to wonder exactly what had happened to Ravenlight after she'd left with Sam Guevenne. But he told himself not to worry too much. It had only been one night, after all. How much could have happened in one night?

Author's Note: Yes, I'm a tease. Huddling together to stave off hypothermia-especially when the one freezing is unconscious and fighting a fever-isn't exactly a bedroom scene. But it sure felt risque while I was writing it!

As always, let me know what you liked and what jarred. Reviews are very encouraging!