Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Bandits. Sithis worship. DRAGON ALERT. We're finally getting some good old' magic-breathing winged lizard action. Stealing from corpses, undressing corpses.

A/N: Apologies for the late update! I'm starting university and did not have time to even look at this. Anyhow, here's the next update!

Last time…

I remain standing for a few more minutes after he leaves, wondering. Who made this inexperienced, egocentric brat the leader of a hold?

Chapter 10 – Drak'nakaraat Threinmûr

Still lost in thought, I return to Dead Man's Drink. I sit down next to Jenassa, who side-eyes me silently. "Find anything interesting?" I pretend to think really hard, tapping a finger against my chin and glancing at the ceiling for even more effect. "Let me think… I did what I told you I'd do, and I may or may not have offered my services to the Jarl…And he may or may not have mistaken me for a well-travelled Sellsword. Chances are, we'll be hunting down some sort of trouble."

How does this always seem to happen to me? I can't help but think as the woman laughs loudly, startling the other occupants of the inn. She mockingly salutes me, the grin on her face nearly splitting it in half. "Lead on then." I groan, making myself a tad more comfortable. "No way, it's raining again, I'm not going outside. Not even if you paid me."

…

Five minutes and more loud laughter and muffled giggling later, I'm outside in the pouring rain once more, heading to the Jarl's Longhouse agitatedly, an entirely too amused Jenassa on my heels. Damn these stubborn surface-dwellers. The doors open easily, a sign of richness around these parts, and I walk up to the jarl without much preamble. "So. The work?" He smiles easily, but there's a glint in his eyes that reminds me of Mellte whenever he thought up one of his infamous pranks.

"Ah, of course. Couldn't wait?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, and I gesture vaguely at my companion, trying not to appear as chagrined as I feel. "Not all of us can be patient." The Jarl of Falkreath nods solemnly. "Indeed. Well, down to business then." He says, moving to his throne and seating himself with a huff - taking his sweet time to sit down properly on the plush cushions. I don't need to turn around to visualise the snarl on my Dunmer companion's face.

"There's a group of bandits in my Hold that I… may have had some discreet dealings with. The cut they were giving me was good at first, but now it's time to clean things up. Your job is to go and take care of it."

Jenassa is silent, but the anticipation brimming in the air around us is nearly tangible, and with a start, I realise they're all waiting for me to speak. "It will be done." How… uncouth. I was right about this man. As much as I'd like to think there's more to these humans than the eye can see, I find it's still hard to believe. Primitive, uncouth, living in the forest in wooden houses and tents and caves and… Well. Is it even worth lingering on? When I'm stuck with the same… let's call them 'accommodations'?

"Good." And with those charming parting words, we're off to a… Knifepoint mine. "Charming name." I comment lightly while we walk, part of me happy to be back on the road despite the rain. I'm also desperately hoping that the odd thumping, like a giant, hollow heartbeat underneath my feet, is a figment of my imagination. Jenassa is quiet until we've walked far enough not to hear it anymore, and both of us let go of the hilts of our weapons for a moment. "Also, I vote against disturbing whatever that was. I mean… I'm not the only one who heard that, right?"

She nods grimly. "Agreed. And no, I heard it, too." We move on quickly, not even stopping as the night falls. After a few more hours of moving in the dark, Jenassa stops abruptly. "You're tired. I can hear your panting from here." I'd been lagging behind her for the past five miles or so, and I down a stamina potion rather than answering.

"I may be tired, but you are not. I can keep going. We'll rest in the morning." She grunts, but we move until I spot the rising light – dawn. Almost immediately after, I point out a nice camping location, and Jenassa takes first watch while I collapse onto my bedroll and pass out for a few hours. After she's also rested up a bit, we're off again, reaching the mine as the evening once again falls.

I find myself crouching behind some rocks as Jenassa readies her bow, nocking a steel arrow as we exchange glances.

The bandit camp ahead of us, I should have seen coming. Now that we're here, however, I'm decidedly nervous. "I'm all for returning to Whiterun after we get this over and done with." I mutter under my breath, and she only gives me the barest of glances. "Really now? What a bore." I roll my eyes. "What's the plan?" I whisper, and she answers readily, unknowingly – or perhaps knowingly - teaching me a few things along the way of her explanation.

"Simple. See the huts? Those sizes can only house two people, at most. We're dealing with eight to sixteen bandits, since it's unlikely many more hide out in the mine, as all their equipment seems to be outside, like the alchemy labs. They built those inside whenever the air is liveable enough. I take out the archers first. You take the three by the main area while they're still distracted. I'll pick off the others as quickly as I can, then I'll join you and we take on the mine. We leave no survivors. Clear enough?" I swallow thickly.

Three bandits all for me, oh goody. "As flawless Diamonds." I say instead, voice wavering ever-so-slightly.

She sighs, silently clapping me on the shoulder. "If you can take care of yourself with bandits on the road, then you can handle a camp. Probably could do it on your own. Now, you're doing it knowing I have your back. Do as you've been doing. Strike without mercy." I nod slowly.

No, I'd say I'm not suited to a warrior's life at all. Can't wait until I find a home and am able to settle, to maybe own a forge of my own.

I move forwards as quickly and silently as I can, my muffle enchantment put to good use as I get as close to the main gate as I dare. "Hey, did you hear that?" My heart skips a beat and my eyes desperately try to search for Jenassa, but she's disappeared. Before I can clam up and panic, a faint whizzing sound reaches my ear, followed by a spluttering cry as a bandit on the other side of the camp goes down.

As one, the scoundrels draw their weapons, facing away from me as they start moving towards the possible threat with cries of alarm and rage. 'Strike without mercy'. Sithis guide my axe, then. I jump from my hiding place, not daring to utter a war cry as I pounce on my target, my blade sinking deep into the flesh of his neck before the other two can even react.

They turn to me, iron blades raised high, and I cannot help myself: "You call that scrap metal weaponry?"

Enraged, they convene on me, and then it's a matter of ducking, dodging, swinging and twirling my axes around my body, blocking and parrying and holy shit INCOMING, my Dwemer metal singing through the air, sparks flying off when they collide with the weaker metal blades.

One of the iron blades cracks into pieces at a particularly lucky hit on my part, and the man holding it has no time to do anything but stare incomprehensibly before I bury an axe in his chest. I flinch at the dark liquid flowing down my arm in rivers, but my heart seems to soar above the clouds. Since when am I like this?

There's no time to ponder and philosophise, however.

"Have a taste of some proper Dwemer craftsmanship, bastards!" I cry ferally, locking away the unease to deal with at a more opportune time, facing down the last bandit – when two more jump out of their tents, one of them carrying a wickedly sharp steel mace. "Sithis' balls." I curse, taking a hurried step back to dodge a swing before cutting down the last of the original trio of scum.

That's about the moment where Jenassa honestly joins the fray, and eventually, there's nobody but us left standing. "We can loot this place later." The Dunmer says absently, far more interested in the entrance to the mine. I nod along easily, before pausing. Loot?

…Oh.

I suppose dead men need no riches. I roll my shoulder, where I'd been late to dodge a dagger. Fast and nasty things, if used properly. Quickly reaching into my pack, which had stuck to my back securely during the fight, I pull out a healing potion, downing it before offering a second one to Jenassa, who sneers at it.

"Unlike you, this is nothing to me." I frown faintly at her. "I'm a craftsman. Not a warrior. You knew this before we even set foot out of the Drunken Huntsman." I'm not a primitive savage. I bite the inside of my cheek harshly. Damnit, think of how disappointed Da would be if I dismiss these… cultures so easily. They… Have their reasons..? I think.

She shrugs, not noticing or not caring for my inner turmoil. "Fair enough. Now, let us continue. I saw no leader of any sort – meaning he's in the mine." Weapons still drawn, we descend into darkness.

The bandit chief is more of a challenge than the others were, but I keep her busy long enough for Jenassa to stick a dagger in the woman's neck. "Wonderful." I sigh at the arterial spray now covering my front. The Dunmer raises an eyebrow, unrepentant.

"The rain will wash it out." I roll my eyes, not deigning myself to speaking another word until we get the more nasty part of the clean-up over with. I'm becoming an expert at holding back my gag reflex.

We split the coin evenly, and argue about the rest of the loot: Jenassa upgrading her steel sword for an orcish one and I take a few potions and all the gems I can find. I don't stay to watch whilst the Dunmer woman helps herself to the steel plated set of armour the bandit leader was wearing.

Once the warrior elf emerges, looking even fiercer than before, we return to Falkreath at a much easier pace, to my relief, with our purses heavy and our steps light.

…

"We killed them all. Is there anything else you need, my jarl?" I ask, hiding – and failing to hide - the impatience in my voice. Jenassa was right once again, as the rain had washed away every last droplet of blood on our bodies. The visible parts, at least, and only because of the severity of the downpour.

Siddgeir observes me silently for a few beats, before his gaze shifts to the man standing beside him, who only nods shallowly in agreement to… something. And whose name I don't even know. The Jarl clears his throat imperiously before speaking.

"There is room in my court for a new Thane. It's an honorary title, mainly, but there are a few perks someone like you could make use of. However, I could only grant the title to someone who is known throughout my Hold. You help my people, and I'll make you my Thane." My eyebrows disappear into my hairline. Well, this is most unexpected.

I quickly glance at Jenassa, who nods encouragingly. "It… would be an honour, my jarl." I say in lieu of an answer to his demand. He grunts, leaning backwards in his chair. "Off with you then." What in the name of molten rock is a 'Thay-ne'?

We leave the longhouse in silence. "I can scarcely believe it," Jenassa mutters, looking me over. "To be offered the title of Thane is a great honour. I'm helping you get it. Meanwhile, don't you even think about returning to Whiterun." I nod slowly, still not quite believing it.

A great honour? For what? Killing some bandits? The surface world sure is weird. To gain any title back home, you'd have to do something drastic, like, 'preventing an assassination attempt on the King'-kind of drastic.

The next two weeks are suddenly full of plans to help the locals with their problems, and whilst I'm not too sure if I even want to become a Thane, I do admit that it's quite the learning experience – from farming to chopping wood to hunting down more bandits to retrieving lost objects, Jenassa does everything in her power to make me drop onto my bedroll dead tired by the end of the day – and in the case of hunting down bandits, in the middle of the night or even early morning.

The same dream keeps me up at night: A Dwemer, doing something while I can't even move, and I've still not seen the object, or the exact features of the room beyond the platform I'm always shackled to.

It sours my mood. But nightly phantoms are no reason to just stop being productive. Endure. Fjaldi, endure as your people have always done.

By the time we get back to Falkreath, the jarl has already heard of my exploits. I'm given a honed steel 'Blade of Falkreath' with a basic fire damage enchantment and the title of 'Thane'. Apparently, people here in Skyrim assume I'm a criminal as well as a sellsword – what other reason is there for explicitly mentioning that I can convince guards to ignore… 'Questionable' behaviour?

I do Valga a favour by telling her about my new title before anyone else can find out. The woman is delighted, and gives me a bottle of Black-Briar mead as a gift. I haven't suddenly acquired a taste for Black-Briar mead due to Siddgeir, though, and so I subtly pass it on to a bemused Jenassa. Who follows me dutifully and amusedly when I tell her in no uncertain terms that 'we're going the fuck back to Whiterun whether you like it or not.'

We wave the locals goodbye with a smile that I don't even have to force, as I've grown quite fond of some of the people here, despite their… naming tendencies. I hope the road back to Whiterun will be free of trouble – surely, by now we must've killed every bandit within ten miles. "What's not to like about Black Briar?" my Dunmer companion asks, and I shrug. "It tastes like healing potions and fungi."

She snorts. "A grave insult, indeed." Healing potions are disgusting, as is apparently the unwritten rule surrounding any working medicine. "You people are strange, though. I've never really thought about it, but back home, we barely had any alcoholic drinks. Mostly tomato juice or, say, milk. There's also some types of more adult beverages, of course, but I couldn't tell you since... Well, let's not dig too deeply into that."

My hopes of having an easy, trouble-free time, unfortunately, are dashed even as I can spot Dragonsreach just up the hill.

"I mean, I don't understand you people – why build houses out of wood? You know what my people call that? Firewood. It's ridiculous. In Morthal, one of those wooden fire hazards killed a young girl and her mother. Helgi, was the girl's name. Darling child, I can tell you. After all I was the one to clean u-"

I'm cut off quite suddenly by an unnatural cry echoing through the midday air, loud and angry and deep like – I find no comparison. Like the waterfalls in Markarth, roaring? A large, wild beast? I look around desperately, trying to find the source when an enormous shadow passes over us, and slowly, disbelievingly, I look up.

Jenassa gasps in awed horror. I'm closer to screaming like a little girl and running for cover, instead.

I'm frozen to my spot as a wyrm circles overhead, a creature straight out of… wherever it is they come from. Oblivion being very likely. I know of dragons, of course – How they lived on mountain peaks, how they razed villages to the ground in never-ending fire, how death and destruction are the reasons for their making, how the Black One, mentioned only in the old stories my father used to tell, Alduin the World Eater, would bring the End Times.

How the only one to stop him was a mortal with a dragon's soul. Drak'nakaraat Threinmûr – He born in Dragon fire. A legend.

So, what's a Skyrim-appropriate reaction to this particular set of circumstances?

I swallow thickly as the winged beast ignores us completely in favour of continuing his descent – straight towards a watchtower. Well, I'll be a cyborg draughr snorting powdered Fal Zhardum Din fungus. I look Jenassa straight in the eye. She looks right back at me, battle lust clouding her eyes. No way out of this, is there? "I refuse to die today." I snarl, drawing my axes whilst conceding: "I refuse to stand by idly as doom personified sweeps down and kills innocents, as well."

She grins broadly, bow in hand and itching to fight. "Well said." With that, I'm off, running towards the tower so fast I barely feel my feet touch upon the ground.

Jenassa is even faster than I am, with her longer legs and better stamina, running ahead a few metres towards the chaos and fire raining down ahead.

The first screams reach my ears, and I grind my teeth together so harshly I could bite trough wood. One of the guards runs past, panting harshly, singed by flames, and going as fast as his feet can carry him towards the city - most likely for backup. Hopefully. I pay him little mind, entirely focused on the tip of a wing rising from the thick smoke, the acrid smell and my tearing eyes not slowing my advance.

Two more guards are still fighting, but their arrows miss or bounce off the creature's hide, its thick, gleaming scales. In the middle of running towards what might just be my end, a single, ridiculous thought filters through my hazy mind: I could forge armour out of that.

Then, I let all thoughts except those aimed towards survival go as the dragon notices our approach. For a single, terrifying heartbeat my eyes meet his – unfathomable depth and magma-hot rage burn inside the creature's soul, and its gaze remains trained on me until one of the guards gets lucky and nicks its snout.

Jenassa lets out a war cry, aiming her arrow and firing without pausing her sprint. Seeing the ledge of a broken tower piece jutting diagonally above the dragon's wing gives me an idea – a terrible, horrible, crazy idea that is totally going to mean my swift and painful death.

…

I'm going to do it anyway.

A/N: This was it for now, and yes, that is a cliff-hanger. No, I'm not going to give you the next update sooner to kill the suspense. Maybe I'll even wait a little longer on purpose, who knows? Leave a review while waiting!

IMPORTANT NOTE: I base my Dwemeris of OTHER FRANCHISE. Such as the Hobbit, Inheritance Cycle, and so on. I cannot find a good translator or, really, any info on Bethesda style Dwemeris.