(AN: Maybe in the text of this story, but I'm drawing my hatred of the Thalmor from Elder Scrolls lore, documented and canon. It doesn't get much attention, I tro, because most people just join the Empire because, on the surface, the Stormcloaks are racists and nobody wants to join with racists, right? Well, considering who they're racist against - namely the Thalmor - in a real-life setting, that would make Native Americans racists as well as every race or group of people whom America or Great Britain have ever wronged. I don't know, maybe I'm just fanning flames and will get chewed up and spat out in the reviews. I'm just trying to show my rationale. [also, Elder Scrolls wikia says what I had previously stated about them])
(Just be patient, you'll see why Mjoll reacted the way she did. Well, I left the question of Aerin's sexual preference open, but nobody responded positively or negatively to my suggestion, so I guess we'll never know. Also, no, I didn't make Vilja canon. I was referencing her to show that not everyone believes as I and the game creators do: that two hundred some years passed between Oblivion and Skyrim.)
A New Quest
Long days had passed since the attack at the inn at Ivarstead. True to the plan, Eirik and Esbern trekked over the mountain border of The Rift and Whiterun. There was no apparent pursuit, but by now, Eirik knew better than to trust senses when it came to pursuit, especially by the Thalmor. Though it was out of the way and made their journey longer, better a long delay than being ambushed again by the Thalmor in Riverwood. Even if they managed to lose them in the mountains, they might make their way around the Throat of the World and be waiting for them on the other side.
So it was decided further that they would draw off the pursuit even more by dividing themselves once again. Esbern would go in secret to Riverwood, while Eirik would pass through Bleak Falls mountain and come to Whiterun. If, as they hoped, pursuit had been lost or at least delayed by their trek through the mountains, at least one of them might be able to reach Riverwood unmarked. With Eirik still on the main road, they would find him easier and follow him thither. A gamble, to be sure, but this whole business was a gamble and time was running out: the real enemy was not the Thalmor, as threatening as they might be.
The real enemy haunted the skies of Skyrim, the harbinger of the end.
Thus it was that Eirik made his way back through the mountains to Whiterun Hold, where he would return to his house in Breezehome. He went by foot, for there were no wagon-trails in the mountains, nor stables for horses. So he made the by-now familiar path down the side of the mountain and towards the oceans of grass that flowed about the hill upon which the town of Whiterun was built. It would only be a short jog from here to the gates of Whiterun, where, after his encounter with Mirmulnir at the western watchtower, he had shortly become Thane to Jarl Balgruuf.
Suddenly, there was a roar and a rush of wind, like a thousand wings. A huge dragon came flying over the mountains right over Eirik's head and went soaring down towards Whiterun, breathing flame upon the farms and houses around it. Eirik had no bow, but he would not let the dragon destroy the people of Whiterun. Drawing out his sword he ran down the rest of the hill and into the valley. As he passed down, he could hear a voice from the top of the Throat of the World muttering. It was so soft that nothing else could have heard it, save for him. Three words, that was all he needed.
"Sos...Yol Dinok!" Eirik shouted.
The dragon circled over Whiterun, then beat its wings with the fury of the storms upon the heights of High Hrothgar and came to rest on its hind-legs and fore-claws, those which sat upon the tips of its wings, and glared at Eirik.
"Make your peace, Dovakhiin," the dragon growled. "None have dared summon Sosyoldinok! Not even Miraak the First!"
"Oh? And why's that?" Eirik asked.
"My Thu'um is great, my blood is fire!" Sosyoldinok replied. "I bring death!"
"Yet you yield to the Thu'um of Alduin?" Eirik laughed. "So much for the great Sosyoldinok!"
"You will regret those words, maggot!" the dragon roared.
The eyes of the guards of Whiterun snapped open as they saw the dragon swallow Eirik, Thane of Whiterun, in one bite. Some held their breath, others prayed to the Divines - whether eight or nine of them - while others cried out in disbelief or let their jaws hang open. It seemed so unreal that the hero of Whiterun, who had slain the dragon at the western watchtower, was no more than any of them. The dragon lifted its head, as if in triumph, and suddenly gave out a loud roar of pain. The head flailed back to the ground and when it came back up, its lower jaw had been broken, hanging from its mouth as if dead. It had spat something onto the grassy plains, covered in dark red blood, which was slowly rising to its feet. The guards gave a shout of triumph.
Eirik, Thane of Whiterun, was still alive.
"Is that all you got?" Eirik shouted at the dragon. "Come on, then!"
But Sosyoldinok did not reply. When the dragon had tried to swallow him whole, Eirik drove his blade into the dragon's tongue, forcing it to open its mouth. A second slash broke its jaw and dropped him onto the floor. He could only roar at Eirik: even his fire breath was stolen by reason of his severed tongue. But the dragon was not yet defenseless.
The dragon lunged head forward, and Eirik jumped aside, striking with his great-sword at the neck. The dragon balked at the hit, but the scales were too strong to be pierced by even a mighty swing of Eirik's great-sword. Sosyoldinok took a step back, then struck at Eirik again, like a cornered serpent. Eirik held his sword parallel to the ground in a defensive posture, absorbing the strike of the dragon on his blade. He stumbled back with the force of the blow, and could feel his head shaking like the insides of a bell, but was otherwise unharmed.
Again, the dragon lunged at Eirik, but he was even quicker this time. With a mighty horizontal slash, he had broken the dragon's jaw, which fell in a bloody mess onto the grasses below. Sosyoldinok roared in pain, but did not attack again. Seeing that his cause was thus endangered, Sosyoldinok reared up on his hind legs and began to beat his wings. First he would knock down the Dovakhiin with the wind stirred up by his wings, then beat a hasty retreat into the skies, where the puny human could not follow him.
"Wuld!" Eirik shouted.
With the force of a whirlwind, Eirik sprinted through the hurricane-force winds beaten by the dragon's wings. Indeed, the two great forces breaking upon each other made such a noise that it reminded those in Whiterun when the Greybeards on High Hrothgar summoned Eirik Dragonborn to themselves: like the voices of the Divines shouting from the highest heights of the Throat of the World. Thunder and drums and many waters clamoring could barely have equaled the might and majesty of the clash between the dragon and the Dragonborn.
But Eirik had seen the dragon make a fatal error. He knew they were weakest underneath, and had rushed through the wind of his wings and had caught his enemy off-guard. With both hands, he drew back his sword and then thrust it it forward, into the belly of the dragon. The beast's whole body shook with the blow, and Eirik's eyes stung as blood was spraying over his face from the blow. With both hands, he yanked the blade out of the dragon's belly, then stepped aside as the dragon fell backwards onto the ground. So great was his fall that the earth trembled beneath Eirik's feet.
Exhausted, Eirik knelt down and began cleaning the blood of his sword, as Sosyoldinok's body burst into flames. Eirik sighed, closing his eyes as he could feel a rush of energy flowing through his body. It was not true energy, for he did not feel any stronger or less exhausted. It was a dragon's soul, which felt like mead to the thirsty tongue, or a warm fire on a freezing cold night.
It was a hero's welcome that greeted Eirik as he arrived at the gates. The guards, led by Caius, commander of the Whiterun Guard, cheered him and offered him drinks at the Bannered Mare for his triumph in slaying another threat to Whiterun. Eirik was exhausted, and told them he would take them up on their offers, but only after he had had a good night's rest. Lastly, Commander Caius limped over to Eirik and saluted him.
"You've done a great service to this city," he said. "We are proud to have you as a thane to the Jarl."
"Thank you, Caius," Eirik replied. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to head to my house. I have come far today and am weary after a long march and that fight with the dragon."
The guards relented, and Eirik made his way slowly into the town of Whiterun. He passed by a group of Hammerfell soldiers arguing with one of the guards at the gate, and the Warmaiden's armory on the right-hand. Breezehome was the small house next door to Warmaiden's, owned by Eirik. After removing the key from his belt - this felt rather awkward, for Nord men rarely held the keys for any house - he opened the door and made his way into Breezehome.
It was a modest house, but definitely better than sleeping in the wilds. It had a fire-pit in the middle of the down-stairs room, with a narrow slit through the second level floor and the roof to let out the smoke. Around this were several cabinets, two chairs, a small table and bookshelves, with a long table at the far end of the room near the pantry. Near the pantry was a door leading to a store-room that smelled of crushed imp stool and powdered elf ears. Between the pantry and the store-room was a ladder that led to the upstairs portion.
Thither Eirik went, walking slowly up the stairs. At the top of the stairs and to the left was the room of his huscarl, and the right passage curled around to his room. Hither he went wearily, pushing open the door. There he found his huscarl sitting at the table in his room, eating. She was a Nord with dark hair and a stern face. She was lithe but not spritely: surely, no petite maiden could ever wear the heavy steel armor, akin to that of her thane, or wield the sword and shield which were resting against the wall.
"Well met, my thane," Lydia the huscarl greeted. "It's good to see you again."
"Aye, it's good to be back in Whiterun," Eirik sighed, as he sat down upon his bed, and began removing his armor.
"How long will you be here?" Lydia asked.
"Just the night," he replied. "In the morning, I'll be heading north. You're coming with me."
"As you wish, my thane," Lydia nodded.
"Now leave me," Eirik said. "I'm weary from the journey, I need to rest."
"Of course," Lydia replied. Placing her food on her plate, she picked up her shield, strapped it to her back and put her sword back into its sheath. Then she picked up the plate of food and walked off to her room. Eirik sighed as he began removing his armor. It had been a long voyage and, Ysmir willing, he had thrown the Thalmor off his trail. Now he would begin his next task. Though it would surely mean a great investment of time, especially against the war effort and his duties to Esbern, Eirik felt that he owed it to her to at least attempt the try.
His next task would take him into the Pale, to the Dwemer ruin of Mzinchaleft.
(AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Very much like Skyrim, we're just happily making our way to Whiterun, when DRAGON!)
(The dragon's name, in the Dragon language, translates as "Blood Fire Death". Yes, in reference to the Bathory album of the same name. Caius' limp will become important later on, so don't forget that. Also, yes, I'm having Lydia in the story as well. I know, she's been done to death [lol], but just wait. It'll all be good in the end, so don't worry.)
(Also, regarding Eirik, he's obviously something of a bad-ass [I keep getting one-shotted by blood dragons in Skyrim, so he got to rip off a blood dragon's lower jaw after being 'swallowed' by one], but he's not like most of my other protagonists: they usually don't egg their opponents on by insulting them. Namely, while he's not going to be some stereotypical Sam Worthington/Jason Statham/Ron Perlman anti-hero douche-bag, he's not a Luke Skywalker white knight good-guy hero either. So that leaves him with more options...hmm...)