A/N: And here we gone the filler chapter for Elaninde.

The Mage

Elaninde Caemoth watched as Valeka trailed after the Harbinger, a small frown on her covered face. Curiously, the woman could now sense her magic and the thought made her frown. No one could detect her spell work before and the only ones who had were those who had magical talent, or those who were strong willed. Valeka herself had been susceptible to her spells for a time before all of this happened.

'Dragonborn, eh? She certainly has gotten even more interesting.' Irileth commented from her side. Elaninde reached up and pulled the mask off her face, sighing in pleasure as she felt the wind across her face.

'She has… and now it looks like she might be a bit out of my reach now.' Irileth scoffed at her side.

'Trying to work your magic on her as well? Did Razahir not tell you that is not a healthy way to make friends.'

'I cannot help it!' Elaninde exclaimed, placing the golden, smiling mask on her belt. 'I hate taking the time to get to know all these people and get them to trust me is like pulling out teeth!' Elaninde scoffed, shaking her head slowly.

'Still never hurts to try at first. The Dragonborn certainly seems like a nice person. Innocent if anything.'

'She is… but that is not something I would like to discuss.'

Irileth grunted, turning away as the Harbinger and Dragonborn disappeared over the hill, and approached the corpse of the dragon. 'No skin off my teeth. You are going to apologize for trying to manipulate her, right.'

'Of course… I just need to find a way how.' She grumbled, running a hand across her face. She suddenly felt very tired and her three hundred years of age slowly began to creep up on her. She quickly pushed those thoughts aside and joined Irileth and her guards as they looked over the dragon.

'Are any of your people hurt, or need to be healed?'

A guardsman spoke up: 'Yes, mage. Everyone is being herded inside. The most sever wounded are on the first floor.'

'I'll get to it then. I'll return when most of them are healed. I really want to examine this beast.'

'Take your time. The carts will not be arriving for a few hours if anything. You have all the time in the world.'

Elaninde nodded her head once and strolled through the devastation around her. She saw the burned bodies of the guards and the managed body of the fallen Companion. A small frown crossed her face as she saw warriors hold their silent vigil over the fallen warrior. She wondered if the funeral was going to be just as mournful as Kodlak's before she pushed that thought away.

The blackened steps of the watchtower were still study enough to walk up and only a few pieces of rock had fallen from the tower. She brushed off a few of the stones with a flick of her hand, her telekinesis magic cleaning the stairs.

She moved out of the way as a pair of guards stepped out of the tower, quickly moving down the stairs with a makeshift stretcher between them. Elaninde noticed the blood on the sheet of the stretcher and shook her head at the sight before stepping inside the tower.

The base of the tower was filled with the sound of moaning guards. The flesh was seared from a few of the gathered soldiers and others hand bleeding wounds from the creature's claws. A few guards had their hands raised over the guards, green light erupting from their hands. A Companion was also among them, his own hands singing with restoration magicka.

Elaninde raised her how hands and approached one of the guards, her own healing magic joining with the others. The wounded warriors sighed in relief as their wounds were healed. Elaninde moved back and forth among the fallen warriors, healing them with her touch. Only a few were grievously wounded and others she arrived too late to help them and she felt a small frown rise when she did not reach them in time.

As she reached the last guard in the line a shout rose from outside. The door was thrown open and Irileth strolled inside, barking orders over her shoulder. Behind her came a group of guards and they were hovered around a woman on the stretcher. Her armor had a large dent in it and Elaninde's mind immediately flashed towards when the dragon had struck the people with its club like tail.

'Elaninde! I need your healing now! This is serious!' Irileth shouted as soon as she saw her. The huscarl barked in her direction, her face a mask of worry. Elaninde immediately moved over to her as the she-elf cleared a table.

'What is it?' She muttered as she approached. They quickly pushed the heavily armored figure on table, the wooden object creaking as the weight of the warrior settled on it. Irileth was hovering over them, pulling off the plate armor's helmet. Elaninde froze as she looked at the woman's face, her eyes widening in surprise and shock.

Lydia – the Jarl's daughter – pale and drawn face was revealed to everyone in the watchtower.

'Oh… shite…' Elaninde muttered, quickly pushing everyone aside and waving her hands over the woman. 'How the hell did she even get here?!'

'I do not know! Last I saw of her she was up at Dragonsreach!' Irileth responded with, her red eyes looking over the woman carefully. She was closing and opening her hands in her agitation. Elaninde waved her hand in the woman's direction, a bright light striking her instantly, and the woman calmed immediately. 'How the hell did she manage to even end up here?'

'Probably snuck out and hid among the guards.' Elaninde muttered. First she worked on healing the woman's bruised face. Her healing magic washed over her face and the warmth returned to her face, the blood rushing through her skin. 'She has a double, right? Probably made the double return to the castle while she went and fought the dragon. Brave… but very foolish.'

'I… have other… siblings… they could take… the title.' Lydia's voice was filled with pain and a gasp tore from her lips when she was finished. Elaninde frowned and raised two fingers, ice coating the tips of them. She placed her fingers at the top of Lydia's gorget and brought it down slowly.

''Fraid your modesty is not going to be preserved now.' Elaninde muttered, sending out a burst of telekinetic force down the center of her armor. The suit of armor cracked down the middle like a ruptured egg and Elaninde pulled it apart with another flick of her hands. The armor peeled outwards like a flower in bloom and she winced as she saw the mass bruising that had formed on the woman's ribs and stomach. 'Hmm… probably suffering from internal bleeding. You certainly took a pounding.'

Irileth scowled in her direction. 'No time for your jokes! Heal her!'

'I'm going, I'm going.' She muttered. 'Sorry.' She placed her palms on Lydia's chest and sent out waves of soothing magicka out from beneath her palms. Lydia gritted her teeth in pain as Elaninde's magic went to work at healing her injuries; internal and external. As the magicka continued to wash over her, Lydia's heavy breathing became easier and soon she was breathing slowly, her face morphing into one of relief. Elaninde sighed and moved her hands away from Lydia's covered chest, wiping a few droplets of sweat off her brow. 'Done and done.'

Lydia sat up slowly, a groan of protest escaping her lips slightly. Elaninde twitched her fingers and the breast plate sealed back shut with a creak of metal, the large crack down the middle only giving a clue to the damage that had been done to it.

'Oh… that's going to be a bitch to fix.' Lydia muttered, running her hands along the split in the armor. 'Father is going to angry at me for sure…'

'You're lucky to be alive. If the guards had not found you, the Jarl would make sure all our heads were rolling by time word got back that you were not in Dragonsreach.' Irileth muttered sharply.

Lydia waved her off. 'It's fine. Elaninde saved me with her magic and the dragon has fallen, has it not?'

'That means nothing… half of the guards are gone and the Companions of Whiterun have lost a few as well.' Irileth said.

'And the dragon?'

'Dead,' chimed in Elaninde, already moving away from her. 'The Dragonborn slew it and she went up to Dragonsreach with the Harbinger.'

'They're already off to go and speak with my father?' Lydia asked.

'Yes, you just missed it. She Shouted and the Greybeards called her and everything.' Elaninde muttered, strolling between the lines of wounded guards. The guardsmen were giving the Jarl's daughter looks of outright hostility and already Irileth had formed a circle around the woman.

Elaninde chuckled underneath her breath. I had forgotten about all of that, she thought as she sent healing waves down into the guard. A pitiful groan escaped the guardsman burned lips. The hostility that the jarl and his family received was rather disappointing to her since Balgruuf the Greater did work with what he had and he was rather successful. A small frown crossed her face. Too bad the simple folk never realized that. Things were bad for now, but later… Whiterun would be able to smash aside all opposition from any other Hold and still can probably go to war afterwards.

Elaninde frowned at that. Perhaps that was too much of an exaggeration.

Another guard tried to wave her away, muttering curses about how the Aldmeri Dominion were going to get him. Elaninde scowled darkly at that, making sure to silence the guardsman's mouth and press her hand deeply into his wounded side. The hiss that escaped his lips did not even make her flinch.

'Believe me,' Elaninde muttered, glaring down at him. 'If I were one of those barbaric pieces of excrement; you would be dead in a ditch somewhere.'

She hated being compared to those fanatical group of elves. Their mindset of killing a whole race just because one of their ancestors became a God was stupid. If that was true, the coils of morality were certainly easy enough to be granted for a long lived being such as her. All she would have to do is follow the way of old Tiber Septim and wage war for… a couple of years and then unite the land and hope that a Divine was looking down at her when it happened.

Or a Daedra, she found herself thinking, her mind immediately moving towards the Harbinger. The giant of Whiterun was certainly an enigma to her. Moonborn… a werewolf that worshiped the Daedric Lord of the Hunt. But who would think that a Daedra would grant someone Godhood without some sort of damnation later in life? She briefly wondered She puzzled over that for a second before she felt a presence nearby her.

It was Lydia, the Jarl's daughter, and she had a small frown on her face. The noble cast to the woman's face should not be marred with such an expression. Dark steel-blue eyes peered into her own and the woman tilted her head only slightly to stare up into her own face.

'Can I help you?' she asked, wiping a small wrinkle in her robe.

'I wanted to thank you, elf.'

'For saving your life? No need. The Jarl would have had all our heads if you were killed. Perhaps you would go down slaying the dragon, and your name would be sung in all of the inns.' Elaninde mused, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Possibly not, since the Dragonborn was the one who slew it.'

'Irileth said you helped stopped the beast from devouring her.'

'That's because she's modest: She and Razahir helped rally the men together and I did manage get it with my magic, but we all helped.' The frown on the young woman's face deepened.

'And I got tossed aside like nothing.' Lydia said, teeth grinding together. Elaninde heard the creaking of metal and noticed that the woman's hand had formed into a fist.

'Most did not survive the same blow you took.' She pointed out, running her hand along her forearm. 'I'd consider you lucky… and if would like a bit of advice?'

Steel-blue met amber.

'Never sell yourself short.' Elaninde looked around her the first floor of the tower, noticing the guards still giving them angry looks. 'Also, thank all these simpletons as well. They faced the dragon just as well as you did.' Elaninde quickly strolled away, making her way towards the second set of stairs. She still had a bit of healing to do.

Elaninde drummed her fingers along the wooden table top. The mage sat in the well-furnished dining room in the Drunken Huntsman. The inn was quiet this late at night, and while it was not as filled as the Drunken Huntsman, the inn was still prosperous. And it was like that for a reason. Those who wanted peace and quiet stayed in the Drunken Huntsman while those did not mind to hear the gossip of the city went to the Bannered Mare. Elaninde, herself, preferred the Drunken Huntsman since it allowed her to gather her thoughts.

Which was what she was currently doing now.

For a week now, the mage had been staying at the inn her thoughts in turmoil. After Valeka had slayed the dragon, she had been proclaimed the newest Thane of Whiterun and currently, the woman had been locked up in Dragonsreach for the same amount of time. Elaninde had always wanted to visit her, to explain why she had been using her magic on her, but had lost the nerve every single time.

How does one explain that they used magic to slightly manipulate you into opening up to them? Every single time she had the thought, she sighed and took another sip from her alto wine. She took pickings of her food: mammoth steak, grilled leaks and a baked potato, but her mind was elsewhere and soon she lost interest in the food.

The door to the inn opened and a hush settled over the gathered patrons: they all turned as one towards the doors and Elaninde ignored the muttered gasps that rose though the tavern.

'Elaninde Caemoth?' A familiar voice carried through the room and Elaninde turned towards the doorway as well. 'Where are you, elf?'

A small frown crossed her lips and she let out a sigh of disappointment before she stood. Luckily, she towered over almost half the people in the inn could immediately see who had called her name. Lydia Balgruffsdottir stood at the entrance of the Drunken Huntsman, standing firm and unmoving even under the angry gazes of all the patrons. The Jarls daughter held a hand next to her side and Elaninde knew that she could draw it quickly and swiftly if needed. She had seen that first hand when the woman had journeyed into the Drunken Huntsman the first night and the tall Nord had cut down a cutthroat easily.

The Jarl's family was still despised in the Hold and recently, Lydia was the only one with the courage to go down into the city without a guard and still she managed to reach Drunken Huntsman no worse for wear. Her re-forged armor gleamed brightly under the faint illumination by fire and she immediately reminded Elaninde of a Knight of the Nine. A sigh escaped her lips.

'Over here like always, come on through.' She sat back down at table and, after a moment, her fingers began to drum along the table top once again. The crowd parted instantly as the heavily armored woman strolled between them, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Elaninde already knew that most of the gathered people would not attack the woman.

Lydia might have not known, but a few of the Harbingers friends were gathered among the crowd. Elaninde had picked them out in the crowd on the first night she had walked into the tavern. A female Dunmer in finely crafted elven armor and a massive woman in heavy steel plate armor had joined her on the first night and immediately she had recognized the pair. There were a few others, but they were too far into the crowd for her to pick them out. Occasionally, she would see them, but they disappeared rather quickly.

The chair creaked as Lydia's bulk settled into it, protesting loudly. The young woman placed her sword on top of the table, keeping it within easy reach. She stared at the plate of food in front of the elf and without a word pulled it in front of her and began to finish off the rest of it. Elaninde watched her, the corner of her thin lips twitching, amber eyes flashing in amusement as she finished the rest of her meal.

'How like a Nord to not ask and just take. Did your father ever teach you any manners?' she stared haughtily, smirk on her face. Lydia ignored her, devouring the food. Elaninde waited for her to finish, crossing her arms across her chest, catching the eye of the Dunmer in elven armor. The elf arched an elegant eyebrow in her direction, running her fingers across the blade of a glass dagger. She rolled her eyes and the elf smirked in her direction with a shrug of her shoulders before turning away from her.

Lydia sighed, pushing the plate away from her after a few minutes. 'I should come here more often. The cooks in Dragonsreach almost do not cook as well as the people down here.'

Elaninde scoffed. 'Of course it does. Anoriath and Elrindir hunt everything here. They do not get their food processed like your family does. Their food is probably the freshest meat you'll get on this side of Skyrim. Now, forget all the pleasantries, why are you here this time?' She took a sip of her drink.

'I want to become the Dragonborn's huscarl.' Elaninde paused, turning her full attention on the young woman. Lydia's face was resolute and hard, showing that she would not be swayed from her opinion. Elaninde titled her head curiously at the woman, looking her over carefully. She cupped her pointed chin, running her thumb across her cheek in thought.

'How do you plan on doing that?' asked Elaninde after a moment of silence.

Lydia sighed, cupping her gauntleted hands to her face. 'That I do not know. Somehow I need to show her that I can be her sworn sword without my father getting in the way. He will protest at my joining at first, but that will not matter if she is the one to accept me. But I need to prove myself first. I need to make a name of myself.'

'Have you thought of joining the Companions?' Elaninde questioned.

Lydia scoffed. 'Father already made sure that was not possible. Only my younger siblings will be able to join up with them. It's part of an old pack that the old Jarl of Whiterun came up with when Whiterun was basically a hovel. Three children the jarl must always have: one to join the administration, one to join the Companions and one to join the college.'

'But your father has four children.' Elaninde pointed out.

'Nelkir is lucky since he is basically a bastard. The blood of Kings does not flow as strongly as ours does.' Lydia stated with a shrug. Elaninde had almost forgotten that. Baseborn and commoner where some of the words people used to describe the last child of Balgruuf the Greater. Even if the man was practically a king… his blood had been defiled by woman who bore his last son. Nelkir would be able to probably become a scribe at the court if anything. Then again… dark whispers also surrounded the child so who knew what could happen to him in the late future.

'I love my brother, but he will be fine in the coming years. He'll probably set off on his own someday and who knows what he will accomplish?' Lydia looked down towards the table. 'Who knows… perhaps with this plan, he will be able to go to the college instead.'

'What is your plan?'

'I have to make a name for myself… somehow I will make a name for myself that everyone in the hold will sing… and then I will be worthy to become the huscarl to her.'

'And you're telling me all of this because?'

'I want your help… and you know her better than anyone else.'

Elaninde frowned at that. The thoughts of her apology returned to her along with something… else… The Altmer saw a way out, a way to help the get back into Valeka's good side. The Dragonborn certainly needed allies in this new land of Skyrim since she had lost her memory. Any help would be appreciated and if what she offered did help her… perhaps she would allow her to explain herself when she found her again.

'I will help you,' answered Elaninde, finishing off the remnants of her wine.

A/N: Just a small filler chapter that adds a bit to to the story. Hopefully it shows a bit on to why Elaninde does what she does and kinda adds on how Lydia will slowly fit into her role. I have decided that this will be the official reason to change the title of the story once again, since this is about the tales of people in Skyrim and not just the Dragonborn.