THE NEXT DAY

Arenar

The pit of his stomach churned without mercy. Arenar awoke and sat up immediately, feeling the potions he drank yesterday make their way back up his throat. He quickly looked around the room, searching for anything to throw up in. Close by his bed was a bucket. His hand shot out and brought it to his face. Weird, this is full. Violently he released the bile into the bucket before he could further examine the liquid already inside.

Once his stomach was done expelling its contents, Arenar set down the bucket and examined his room. All he'd seen of it yesterday was the door, having fallen asleep before Hadvar unlocked it. He stretched out his good leg and almost touched the wall opposite him. Small room. The bucket had been placed in front of a chair, and on the chair were fresh clothes presumably meant for him. Arenar's bad leg was covered in bandages.

The steel sword he'd stolen from the Imperial captain leaned against the chair. Just the sight of it filled him with despair. Trueflame was gone; the single-handed weapon originally crafted for Indoril Nerevar, given to him by the Dwemer King as a wedding gift. The Nerevarine had been instructed to rebuild Trueflame some three thousand years later.

It had been taken by the legionnaires when he'd died near the Stormcloak camp, he remembered. Other than the Moon-and-Star, the sword was his only remaining physical connection to Morrowind. Arenar had never wielded a weapon that was more suited to his fighting style before it. The balance was perfect, the weight was minimal, and the fire enchantment had never need be recharged by a soul gem.

Now Trueflame was gone. Arenar had hoped to find it and the rest of his gear inside Helgen's Keep during the escape. His hopes had been high when he'd discovered the armory. But Trueflame hadn't been there. Neither had the rest of his supplies, but he would have traded all of it to get back his sword.

A light tapping began on the opposite side of his bedroom door. Great time for a visitor.Arenar couldn't find anything to wipe his mouth with so he removed his dirty shirt and used it. I have a replacement for it now. "Come in," he said when he was finished.

The door creaked open and Katjaa's head popped in, leather cap covering the top of her head. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

Arenar shrugged. "A couple of minutes, maybe less. What time is it?"

"Sunrise."

"Damn, I slept for quite a while. Hadvar wasn't lying about that."

Katjaa nodded. "How are you doing? Better?"

He glanced down to his puke bucket and chuckled. "Well, I don't feel like cutting off my leg to relieve the pain anymore, so that's a good start. I'm pretty thirsty, though. Could you get me something to drink?"

"You have a bucket of water right there," Katjaa pointed out as she entered the room completely. Now Arenar could see she had on a full set of leather armor. Her daggers were strapped to her belt, one on each hip. A small pack was hanging on her shoulders. You're looking more and more like Lielle. "I can go get you a cup if you want one."

"No need. I don't plan on drinking from this anytime soon."

"Wow. You, ah, have a lot of scars."

That he did. Arenar looked down at his torso, marred with healed-over slashes and grazes from swords and axes and many other weapons over a span of two hundred years. His back was just as terrible a sight if not more so. Her eyes were directed to one scar in particular, one of the more brutal ones he had. It was the hand-shaped burn atop his heart, where the Justicar in Leyawiin had killed him thirty years earlier.

"Yeah. I've been in a lot of fights," he said vaguely. He nodded at the pile of clothes. "I'm assuming those are for me?" She nodded. "Good. Sleeping in blood covered pants makes him wish for fresher clothing. Even if it is his own blood. May I ask who donated these?"

"Ralof's brother-in-law. Ralof and I told him you were pretty big for an Imperial, and he said these were all too small for him anymore, so hopefully they're a good fit."

"You have my thanks." He grabbed the dark blue tunic and put it on. It was actually a tight fit, surprisingly, and made of a thicker than his old shirt. Some prospering clothing for the cold north of Skyrim; wish I would have thought to get something similar in the first place.He then pulled the pants over to him. "I'd imagine you want to turn around now. Wouldn't want to shock you or anything," he said with a cocky smile.

"Shock me how? By letting me down?" Katjaa teased.

"Well, well. The Breton can make jokes. Lies all the same, but still pretty funny." Arenar said as he tried to stand. Once the pain shot through his leg he sat right back down on the mattress. His leg didn't hurt as badly as yesterday, though it still wasn't ready to support his full weight. He placed the pants back where he found them. "I don't thinking I'll be able to salvage my dancing skills from these leg injuries. Damn shame."

Katjaa threw her head back and laughed. "Damn shame indeed. However will you go on?"

"I probably won't be able to. Without my dancing, I am nothing!" He threw his hands up dramatically and they both erupted into fits of laughter. A few minutes passed before the giggling faded away.

Arenar couldn't take his eyes off of the magnificent woman. In the one day he'd known her, she'd helped rescue him from Helgen, had fought and killed two men that would have threatened his safety and two spiders that did the same; he looked down at the bandages, suspecting she'd dressed his wounds as well. Lielle rescued me the first time I met her, too.

She walked over to his bed and sat down right next to him."If you are hungry, you can have these." She pulled out a couple chunks of bread from a side pocket and handed them to him. "They might be a little—"

Before she could finish talking, Arenar had wolfed it down. He choked a little bit as he swallowed, having wolfed it down almost too fast to chew. "Not bad. It was a little stale. Next time I'd prefer something fresher," he joked.

The Breton flashed him an enchanted smile as she said, "Delphine's right, you are a wise ass." Mentioning the innkeeper's name made her smile go away. "Speaking of Delphine, I have to get going soon. I have a full day of walking ahead of me. If I hurry, I'll be in Whiterun just at sundown."

"Whiterun?" Arenar asked. "What's in Whiterun?"

"Delphine approached me last night and had me tell her the truth about Helgen and the dragon. She wants me to speak with Jarl Balgruuf and request for some guards to protect Riverwood, in case the dragon chooses Riverwood as its next target."

"But guards didn't do anything to save Helgen. Really, all they were was a distraction that gave maybe a handful of villagers the chance to get out."

"That's what I told her."

Arenar waited. When Katjaa didn't add anything else he asked, "So why does she want guards?"

Katjaa broke eye contact and looked at the floor. "Like you said: a distraction. The more time the dragon spends attacking the guards, the more likely villagers will be able to escape." She didn't look happy, so he suspected she didn't agree to the plan.

Having morals was a pain, something Arenar had learned well into his early days of immortality. Vivec, one of the Tribunal members that had played a part in Nerevar's death, had taught Arenar how to halt the Heart of Lorkhan from supplying Dagoth Ur with anymore power, despite knowing that it would his power too.

Arenar had returned to the mortal god after killing Almalexia, and had informed him that she and Sotha Sil were dead. Vivec praised him for the deed, and promised that he would use what little power he had left for good. Arenar knew the man would try, but he also knew the man was a murderer and manipulative. With a quick swipe of Trueflame, the Anticipation of Mephala's head had fallen to the floor.

He patted her on the back. "If there was another way, I would suggest we take it. But since there's not, her plan probably is the best way to go."

"Yeah," Katjaa sighed. "Both of you are probably right. Still..." She sighed again. "Oh, well. I better get on the road now. I have a tent in my pack, but I'd rather not have to camp tonight."

She turned around and placed her hand on the door knob. "All right, then. I'll meet you by the northern gate as soon as I get dressed. I'll need a walking stick or a crutch of some kind if I want to walk without crying."

Katjaa faced him again. "You can't go with me," she said with sorrow.

I didn't expect that.Arenar scratched his scraggly beard. "Why not?" She pointed at his bad leg. "Oh, this? Come on, we got over here fine, didn't we? Give me a couple more healing potions, plus my own magic, and leg will be mostly mended in two, three days tops."

"But I need to go now," Katjaa reminded him.

"We can go now; I just need a crutch or walking stick."

"You'll still be moving too slow."

"All right, well—"

"Plus you'll be wearing armor that Hadvar's uncle gave to us for free. That will just slow you down even more."

"Now wait just—"

"How do you expect to fight on one leg? Hold your sword out and hope your opponent runs onto it?"

"Fine!" Arenar yelled. Katjaa jumped, startled by the sudden outburst. Calm down, Arenar."I'm sorry about that. I got a little carried away there. If you insist, I'll stay here. Whenever I can walk without aid, I will head to Whiterun and join you."

Katjaa moved a little closer, but she didn't return to the bed. "All right. Delphine is allowing you to stay here for free since she requested me to do this, so you don't need to worry about that. Just call out for her if you need anything." Without another word she left the room. A minute later Arenar heard the Breton depart from the inn.

He sighed and lay back down on his bed. So far, Skyrim was the worst country he had ever been in. Even Akavir hadn't started off this bad. Only three days had passed since Arenar entered the frozen north and yet he had died; lost Trueflame and all his other equipment; been seriously burned by a monster from myths and legends; and, to top if off, thrown up everything in his stomach. If I was more careful none of that would have happened.Arenar knew this was true. Ever since Lielle's death he had been reckless; never concerned about his safety. After all, what's the worst that could happen to him? Die?

But now Katjaa was in his life. This woman was like Lielle in so many ways it was scary. No logical reason explained the similarities, but he knew this was no coincidence. When it came to him, nothing was a coincidence. And now she was out in the world, traveling alone. She obviously knew how to take care of herself, but that didn't put Arenar at ease. If I was more careful, she wouldn't be alone.He resolved to put her safety first from now on, first by making sure he wasn't incapacitated.

Arenar gently placed his hand on his bandages. His hand glowed orange with Restoration magic and he rubbed it along his leg. The spell didn't last long since his magicka pool hadn't completely refilled. He sat back up and tested the leg. It still hurt, but slightly less. "I'm coming, Katjaa."