The Horker's Head had never been the most notable inn of Windhelm, especially not with the legendary Candlehearth Hall so close by. Tucked away in an ice-glazed street just off the Stone Quarter, it was secluded and easy to miss...but so far that had served Margot's purpose well.

Given that its few patrons were mainly those who could not afford Candlehearth's fare or did not much care for its noise and crowd, the Horker's Head was a quieter, shabbier retreat where none asked questions or stared too long. Even the innkeeper could barely count the coins he was given, so old and mead-soaked he was...but the regulars, who were an assorted group of minor merchants, mercenaries and people down on their luck, never seemed inclined to take advantage of this. It was a matter of mutual understanding, and was left at that.

Many an hour Margot had sat by the hearth, lost and contemplating what she was to do next. She could not stay here indefinitely - that was out of the question. With only a couple hundred septims stowed in her purse, it would only be a matter of time before the cost of bed and board exhausted her funds. And then what would she do? She doubted she would have any luck finding a different employment - it had been hard enough to secure her first job here with Olsa, as most well-paid work here was given to the Nords. She knew she would never survive the work in the farms, which some of the local Dunmer turned to...she was a small Breton mage unused to hard manual labour in the cold, after all...

There was only one option remaining - leaving the city altogether. Down south, the temperate Rift would surely be more hospitable, easier to survive. There she could start anew, perhaps find better work there...

But of course, there was still the matter of travel. With the rise of conflict and civil war in the country, the reluctance of carriage drivers to venture out into the danger had led to an unbelievable rise in their prices; too many carts travelling from Windhelm had been attacked by Imperial soldiers, believing them to be full of Stormcloak troops or useful supplies. Thus, taking a carriage was not a possible option.

The only choice she had left was to go on foot, then, taking the main road southwards and hoping for the best - but for that she would need a guard.

Margot glanced about the dim room, not feeling overly confident about this idea. Was she to find one amongst those gathered in this room? Here and there a few merchants were having muttered conversations...near the wall a ragged Bosmer stared into her cup...over by the corner a few warriors sat in silence, glaring into nothingness...

Margot sighed. Her courage was flagging - there was no way she could directly approach these hardened, scar-scored men for help in this state. But if not now, then when?

Hinges squealing in stiff protest, the worn door of the New Gnisis Cornerclub swung open, sending a flurry of snowflakes skittering across the flagstones.

'Aargh! Close that door, fetcher!' cried one of the patrons closest to the entrance, unhappy with the sudden icy breeze up his robe.

'Oh, shut it, Arvas,' growled the mer who had just entered, silencing the other's complaining. With smooth strides he crossed the room to the bar, shaking ice from his cloak as he did so.

'Rendar. The usual.'

Rendar stared at him. 'You're back here, then, Serathis?' He was met by the stony red glare of the other Dunmer, who gave a grunt of affirmation in response.

'For a couple of days, like I said I would,' Lleryn answered, fluidly shifting himself onto a stool. 'I was, er...hoping to bump into a friend.'

Rendar gave him a look, pausing in the act of reaching for a tankard. 'The little Breton, you mean?'

'Mmm.' Lleryn's crimson gaze flicked about the room. 'She didn't happen to stop by here recently, did she?'

With a rather reserved expression Rendar busied himself with pouring a generous measure of dark liquid from its round bottle. 'Just the once. Hasn't been back.' He set down the tankard in front of Lleryn with a thump. 'There's your mazte.'

Lleryn accepted his drink in exchange for three grubby coins, and took a speculative sip. The Cornerclub's mazte was always watery and stale from its weeks in transit from dubious sources, but there was a spicy tang to its aftertaste that awakened distant memories of a life he had once led, of the warm firelit evenings he had spent with companions now long gone, talking and laughing with the dust of Vvardenfell still clinging to their boots...

Of course, that was all in the past. In the present, everything was different, harsh and unforgiving. Everything except...

Lleryn frowned.

'Why hasn't she been back?' he muttered.

'Well, why should she?' Rendar countered with a half-shrug. 'Once we'd passed on the message that you'd decided to clear out of Windhelm -'

Lleryn almost dropped his tankard, staring at him in shock. 'Idiot s'wit! What did you tell her that for? I was just keeping out of the way, not leaving for good!'

A scowl of resentment curled Rendar's lip. 'When outsiders start trying to involve themselves in our affairs, it always ends badly for us,' he said stubbornly, refusing to be convinced otherwise. 'What's she doing, hanging around an ugly fetcher like you, anyway?'

Lleryn swore in ire, slamming his tankard down. 'It's none of your concern,' he growled. 'Azura curse it...now how in oblivion will I find her?' The last time he had tried making contact with her himself, that old hag had tried to assault him with an iron pan. There was no way he could attempt such a thing again...

One of the old regulars, who had been listening with a curious ear as always, cleared his throat. This, of course, took some time, given that his lungs were extremely ash-blackened even by Dunmer standards. Eventually, after the mighty rasping had died down, he spoke: 'Atheron heard at the market that a certain old alchemist is in disgrace because her Breton assistant was found to be involved with an elf. I would say that your friend may well be on the streets by now. Or scraping by at an inn, if she's sensible.'

Frowning stormily, Lleryn gathered his cloak about himself. 'I should start searching Candlehearth, then?'

'Unlikely. Where do lodging-seekers go when they are down on their luck?' the Dunmer said.

Lleryn narrowed his eyes. 'I think I know.' Downing the rest of his mazte in three mighty gulps, he got down from his stool and swept off across the room, a single-minded purpose driving his step.

It had taken Margot most of the evening just to work up the courage to stand and face these hired blades...but all she could do was watch in silence, having risen uncertainly to her feet and finding herself incapable of stepping forward. They were hardened, tough men, used to a life of constant travel and fighting, devoid of the comfort of a home or family. The few who were conversing with each other and not brooding in solemn silence were doing so with coarse words and cold eyes, telling tales of bloodshed and gore. Their axes and greatswords never left their sides, even here.

Some of them looked just as likely to murder their employer as protect them...but should she really be making such assumptions? Perhaps they were honourable and true in spite of their crude aspects, and if she did not at least attempt to converse with them she would never know...

Bracing herself, Margot stepped forward -

Suddenly a bony hand grabbed her arm and swung her around, so fast she was disoriented. In her ear a voice growled: 'There you are, you silly little n'wah...come on, come with me.'

Her whole body froze at the sound of that voice, so shocked that speech was beyond her. Mutely she allowed herself to be ushered away to a quieter spot in the corridor, past the snoring inkeeper and into a secluded glow of candlelight.

Margot stared for a long while at the tall, skinny figure looking back at her with his familiar glower, and then choked: 'Lleryn? You're - you're back?'

'I never left,' he fumed, appearing greatly annoyed at something. 'I've been just outside the city, doing some quiet farm jobs for Hlaalu. I was going to tell you but -'

Before she could stop herself, Margot threw her arms around him, pressing her face against the layers of heavy, faded cloth that he wore. She had never thought she would see him again - but now...now...!

His bony frame tensed in her unexpected embrace, but all she cared for was the sweet reality of his presence, right here, with her. After a while, she felt his hand pat at her head awkwardly.

'Come, now...no need for all this...' he murmured gruffly, noticeably caught off guard by her reaction. 'Go on, get off me.'

Margot sniffed heartily, relinquishing him and brushing away the unexpected tears that were burning her eyes. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'I'm just...I'm just so happy to see you. So much has happened...'

'It's true, then?' Lleryn grunted. 'The old hag threw you out?'

She lowered her gaze and nodded mutely. 'Someone told her about my visits to the Grey Quarter, so yes, I don't work there any more.' At this Lleryn made a sound that was half-sigh, half grumble, and looking up, Margot saw that his eyes were on the ground, too.

'I'm sorry, Margot,' he murmured. 'I didn't mean for you to lose your place and your work on my account.' He gave a heavy sigh. 'Told you you should stay away from fetchers like me, didn't I?'

She grabbed his arm. 'No, Lleryn - don't apologise!' she said. 'I hated that woman and her shop anyway! If I'd never have met you, I'd probably be stuck there still...and I'd never have made such a dear friend!'

His eyebrows raised and his red eyes came back to her, filled with surprise. He appeared very touched, though he had no words to communicate this to her. Margot went on: 'When they told me you'd left, I was so upset...I thought I was all alone here and I couldn't bear it. I was going to leave for the Rift, you see...'

'The Rift?' repeated Lleryn, lifting his head. 'Why the Rift?'

'Well, there's no way I can get back to High Rock for the moment, and no means of earning any gold in this wretched city. Not that I'd want to stay here any longer even if there was. I thought that if I could get to the Rift, then I'd have a better chance of finding better work in a better climate, and I'd be able to save enough to return home again...'

He fixed her with a perplexed frown. 'Good idea, but...you were going to go off on foot, by yourself?'

'No, of course not - I knew I'd have to hire a guard but...oh, I just can't work up the courage to go near them, and I don't know if -'

'Why don't you hire me?' Lleryn interrupted.

Margot stared at him, stunned. 'What?'

'Hire me instead. I would do it for a quarter of the gold those fetchers are asking for. and I'd be three times as trustworthy.'

She blinked. Was he honestly suggesting this? He appeared deadly serious; there was no doubt about it.

'But - you live here and -'

Lleryn let out a short laugh. 'Hah! I would gladly leave this frozen pile of guar dung without a second thought.'

'A-are you sure? I mean, would you be willing to fight? I know you use your fire magic, but a power like that is draining if you have to use it for long periods of time -'

'Who ever said flames were my only way of protecting myself?' Lleryn murmured, holding her gaze with a piercing look. 'I have skill in other things too, you know...'

With a fluent movement he pushed aside the folds of fabric that cloaked him, revealing one slender, legging-wrapped leg. Margot's eyes widened. Buckled to his thigh was a sheath of oddly-coloured leather, in which was stowed a long, ornate dagger of lustrous black. It gleamed dark and deadly in the candlelight, its edge razor-sharp and keen. Judging by the intricacy of the hilt, this was a very fine old weapon, forged in times long passed in a land unknown to her.

Lleryn was grinning broadly at her expression of wonder, carressing the sculpted lines of the hilt with a long hand. 'Its twin is on my other leg,' he told her in an undertone. 'Together they have saved my life more often than I can say. Aside from a few ancestral amulets, they're the only things of true value I own.'

His touch upon the hilt was light, fond and familiar - this weapon was one he had used for a long time, keeping it in pristine condition. 'Velms and Sanib,' he murmured. 'My closest friends.'

Margot could barely imagine how he had come into possession of such fine weapons, but she did not care - what was important was that he was here now and, most of all. he was offerring to accompany her away from here. For once, there was a sudden ray of hope brightening the horizon; maybe with Lleryn at her side, the journey would be far less perilous, and her destination finally attainable...perhaps this cold, dark place could fade into memory, to be forgotten like an unpleasant dream...

When Lleryn met her gaze, the question in his eyes, her mind was made up and her answer was ready.

'You're hired.'