(AN: Okay, I'm done ranting about Kirkbride for now. There's something else that I feel should be addressed and it is part of Dragonborn. I understand that it was rushed [there are sound-files which show that Miraak wasn't supposed to die after the encounter at Apocrypha], but there is something very significant to the development of the Civil War story-line which has absolutely no explication in the game. I hinted at it near the end of The Dragonborn and the Lioness, but now I'm going to depict my version of what it means.)
(And please, for the love of Talos, don't start with "Kirkbride wrote everything in Skyrim". That is just stupid, like saying that Dave Mustaine wrote Metallica's first three albums [leaving it that they couldn't write a decent album without him, even though he could make crap like Super Collider without them] or that Irvin Kirshner saved Star Wars with Empire Strikes Back.)
Fate of the Skaal
The next day was dark, damp and overcast. There was rain but never strong enough winds to endanger the ship, though all the crew were on alert. Eirik and Lydia remained in their room, unwilling to be around Crixus anymore than they had to, receiving informative visits from Rayya or Torgrim. Usually Rayya's visits were more cordial, since, though she was not a Nord, she was nevertheless amicable to them and didn't speak with as many diminutives as Torgrim. They also managed to learn a bit more about the journey and things happening outside of Skyrim from her.
"Aside from the rain," she told them. "We will be in Raven Rock by this afternoon. I hear that the Redoran House of Morrowind have taken a stronger hold on Solstheim, though. It might spell trouble for us."
She also told them about new happenings in Hammerfell. The Alik'r Coterie, an off-shoot of the Crowns faction, were in deep with the Dominion and held great influence over many significant members of the Crowns and the Forebears. Like the Placators of Cyrodiil, the Alik'r promoted that the Crowns and the Forebears had acted too rashly in their war with the Dominion and, having driven them from their country, should now hold the hand of friendship to them.
"Who are the Placators?" Lydia asked.
"Clearly you've never been to Cyrodiil," Rayya chuckled. "It's no wonder with all the borders closed with the war. But I've been to Anvil several times on leave and one can hear much from the gossip in the Count's Arms inn. Apparently, there's quite a bit of political unrest in Cyrodiil at this time: the Nobles, the Placators, the Renrijra Krin, the Merchant's Guild, the Shield of Hlaalu, the King's Men and the Sons of Skyrim have more or less split what's left of the Empire between them."
"Who are these?" Eirik asked.
"The Nobles," Rayya began. "Are the loose collection of the eight lords of the counties of Cyrodiil. Each of them wants to take advantage of the situation, but none of them can agree on more than that, which makes them the weakest faction. The Placators are the puppets of the Dominion and openly brag about their affiliation with the Thalmor and wish to have the Empire embrace the Dominion with kindness and with love. The Renrijra Krin are a cult of Khajiit assassins and thieves also in league with the Thalmor who have a rather sizable presence in Leyawiin: they have no love for the Caro family and vie with them for control of Leyawiin.
"The Merchant's Guild are a conglomerate of wealthy merchants with ties to the East and West Empire Trading companies. They've grown fabulously wealthy and have significant holdings in Anvil, Bravil and Leyawiin as well. They view a unified empire as a great boon, mostly for their own pockets, and are willing to make minor investments to see the Empire returned to the glory of the Septims. They have close connections to the Shield of Hlaalu, the remnants of the Dunmer House who fled to Cyrodiil after Redoran exterminated them from Morrowind. They own most of Cheydinal and wish to see relations between the Empire and the Houses of Morrowind restored, though their means are less than honorable. The King's Men are a fanatical group of merchants' and nobleman's sons with dreams of greatness: they would see the knightly orders of Septim's empire restored, such as the Knights of the Nine, the Knights of the Thorn, the Order of the Virtuous Blood and the Order of the Dragon.
"Lastly, the Sons of Skyrim have even less power than the Nobles. From what I heard, they were doing in Bruma what Ulfric is doing in Skyrim long before the death of King Torygg. When the civil war began, most of them packed up and went to Skyrim to join the Stormcloak rebellion. Those who remain have little real power in Bruma other than causing a few hours of unrest every day or so."
Aside from news from Cyrodiil, she told them of several other things she had heard about movements in the other parts of Tamriel, little of which seemed to be of interest to them at the moment. Torgrim talked mostly about Skyrim and the Empire and how Ulfric would soon be brought to justice.
In the evening, the swaying and tossing of the ship came to a rest and the sounds above told Eirik and Lydia that they had come ashore. As they made their way to the top deck, they saw the ship at the wharf of Raven Rock, anchored and with many of the sailors standing by the starboard side of the ship, eager to be a-shore, with a committee of Redoran guards clad in bone-mold armor blocking their path. Eirik saw Shaddar and Crixus near the front, arguing with a Dunmer official standing in front of the guards.
"This is an outrage!" Shaddar exclaimed. "I have never been blocked from making berth at Raven Rock!"
"That was before," the Dunmer replied. "Things are different in Raven Rock now. You will need to apply for a writ of portage at the Office of Foreign Affairs in Blacklight."
"But we have business in Solstheim!" Shaddar retorted.
"You have no business here," said the Dunmer. "At least not without a writ of portage signifying that the heads of House Redoran see you as safe and equitable trading partners."
"This is ridiculous," Crixus sneered. "I've been to this port before, Adril. I have permission to make port here."
"Such arrogance," Adril replied. "House Redoran does not recognize the Empire of Cyrodiil here."
"What's going on?" Eirik asked.
"These bastards are preventing us from making port here," Crixus answered.
"Denying port?" laughed Adril. "Since I see you have one of them with you, I must insist that you leave Raven Rock immediately."
"What do you mean, one of 'them'?" Eirik asked.
"Nords aren't welcomed in Solstheim anymore," Adril retorted. "House Redoran will not tolerate your kind coming here, destroying our island. What, have you become wearied of persecuting our kind in your precious Skyrim?"
"But I am not a Nord," Crixus stated. "Neither is the captain of this ship, nor are half of the crew."
"You're an Imperial," Adril said. "Your Empire's days of tyranny over the Houses of Morrowind are at an end. Now return to your ship or I will have the guards throw you all into the Bulwark and have your ship sunken for good measure!"
"We don't need to listen to this," Eirik said. He then turned to Crixus. "We'll Shout these arrogant elves down before us! They don't stand a chance!"
"Just like you Nords, kill every elf in sight," Crixus retorted.
"That would do no good, friends," Shaddar interjected, a third option formulating in his head as he turned towards Adril Arano with a smile on his face. "Such a shame that peaceful trade agreements cannot be swiftly made between our two independent peoples - the House Redoran and my company."
"A shame for you, no doubt, since your pockets won't be lined with our gold," said Adril. "Now clear off."
Grudgingly, Shaddar barked out orders to his crew, having them lower the sails and prepare to sail westward. Eirik followed Crixus, who was making his way up to the helm's deck where Shaddar and his helmsman stood.
"We could have taken them on," Eirik said. "Just a few Shouts and those Redoran guards would have been tossed aside like chaff in the wind!"
"I've said it before and I will say it again," Crixus retorted. "I won't use your 'ancient Nord art' of the Voice to cheapen a fair fight with an enemy. I'm not Talos, whatever you or your false gods might say!"
"So we've come all this way for nothing?" Eirik asked. "Your attempt at a trap is as futile as the Great War."
"One more word about the Great War," Crixus retorted angrily. "And I'll throw you into the sea with my bare hands!"
Eirik chuckled. "A thin-bodied, washed-up old Colovian scoundrel against a Nord warrior in the prime of his life? Not without Gorak or Torgrim as your double, you mean."
"I don't need Torgrim or Gorak to take you down!" Crixus retorted.
"Gentlemen!" Shaddar spoke suddenly. "There will be no brawling at the helm while I am present."
"But he started it!" Crixus retorted.
"I have asked for silence!" Shaddar said sternly. "And silence is what we will have if we wish to land on Solstheim."
Eirik and Crixus approached Shaddar as the ship was pulling away out of the Raven Rock wharf.
"What do you mean?" Eirik asked.
The old Redguard cast his eyes here and there and then turned his back to the helm, bending down as much as his old bones could allow him - he was easily a score of years older than Crixus - and brought out from his robes a map which he unfurled upon the deck before them. Both Eirik and Crixus examined what was laid before them: a map of Solstheim.
"Raven Rock," Shaddar began, speaking in a hushed voice. "Is located in this cove area on the south-western coast of Solstheim. According to local legends, the Skaal have always lived on the north-eastern corner of the island, even as far back as the time of the Nerevarine."
"So?" Eirik asked.
"If we will be denied permission to land in Raven Rock," Shaddar said. "We will simply sail around the southern coast of Solstheim and arrive here on the eastern coast, where we will go ashore as planned."
"But the elves have owned Solstheim since the High King of Skyrim gave it to them hundreds of years ago," Eirik said. "Surely they know all of the lands of their island and will be watching us."
"Aha," Shaddar said wisely. "But going south, we will be hidden under the clouds of ash being constantly blown northward from Vvardenfell. Their eyes will not see us on our way around to the eastern side of the continent."
"I still think it's too risky," Eirik said.
"Well, what would you have preferred?" Crixus asked. "Shouting those damn dirty Dunmer out of your path with your Voice and go walking up to the Skaal village, only to be arrested on your return?"
"Look who hates the Dunmer now," Eirik chuckled.
"I've spent too much time in Morrowind to feel otherwise," Crixus said. "But it's not right what your Ulfric does to them in Windhelm." Eirik sighed in disgust. "You Nords made a pact to let the Dunmer live independently in your land, you can't go back on your word!"
"Are you incapable of telling the truth?" Eirik asked.
"Oh, go f..."
"I said no fighting!" Shaddar said sharply. "Now, if this is going to work, I will have to ask you lot to go below deck. It will be getting very hot and sooty once we pass under the ash-clouds and it will be best for you all to remain below deck. And quietly as well!"
Eirik went back below, but Crixus remained. Once again Eirik felt confident that he had come out on top of the argument. There was no excuse, no defense, for what Crixus had said and his only recourse was to rail and insult as usual. But Eirik found that, for some reason, his temper was not flaring up around Crixus in their debates. Perhaps he had learned to control himself, or perhaps he had learned what made Crixus angry in their talks? With this in mind, he passed down the stairs into the lower deck, only to find Torgrim blocking the way in front of him.
"I see that the legends about you are far from true," he said. "You wear that fancy armor, yet you fight with words like a woman."
"Bark on, dog," Eirik replied. "I have no interest in you. Now stand aside."
"Not until I've taught you a lesson, pup," Torgrim said. "I shan't be called a dog, not by some milk-drinking rebel!"
"I really don't have time for this," Eirik said.
"Coward!" Torgrim roared.
"Gaan...Lah Haas!" Eirik shouted.
The large, strong Torgrim crumbled to the floor deck as the Thu'um left him physically drained and exhausted, as if he had spent a full day's work on an empty stomach. Doubtless Crixus would talk about how much of a coward this made Eirik and how alike he was to Ulfric and his "murder" of King Torygg, but Crixus was not here and Eirik was tired of dealing Crixus and his Imperial-loving toadies. He was not half-way down the hall when Lydia, who had departed back to the cargo hold shortly after she learned that they wouldn't be going ashore, poked her head out from the cargo hold door.
"Is everything alright, my thane?" she asked. "I heard you Shouting."
"Everything's fine, for now," Eirik said. "We just won't be going ashore any time soon."
All throughout the night, the Red Dog sailed around the southern coast of Solstheim. On the main deck, Shaddar commanded the ship with a minimal crew, their faces covered to keep out the ash, while the rest went down below. Eirik and Lydia remained in their hold, bundled in their warm, woolen cloaks and talking idly about this and that. Torgrim had not appeared after Eirik incapacitated him. They could not sleep all through the night, even though they were both weary. The hours passed by and they seemed to have run out of things to talk about: at this, they laid down in their cloaks side by side, as they had done since the first time they had begun journeying together. There they lay for a while, wrapped in their cloaks and the warmth of each other's bodies, heeding only the swaying of ocean waves upon the hull and the creaking of the wooden planks of the ship. Eirik's mind wandered back to Mjoll and he wondered where she was, sleeping alone perhaps on her quest in the inn of Dawnstar with those nightmares about or in some cold fort or cave somewhere else.
"My thane," Lydia suddenly spoke. "May I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead," Eirik replied.
"Do you think the war will ever end?" she asked. "I mean, I know that a Nord should always strive for a noble death, a sure path to Sovngarde. But I mean this civil war: do you think it will ever end?"
"I've been wondering about that," Eirik said. "There's so much bad blood between the people of Skyrim all because of this war that the Thalmor started and the Empire have been upholding."
"The Thalmor?" Lydia asked. "How do you figure they started it?"
"They enforced the White-Gold Concordant from the beginning," Eirik began. "They outlawed the worship of Talos, they started the Great War which gave those damn Reachmen the opportunity to take Markarth, which led to the Markarth Incident." He sighed.
"What's wrong, my thane?" Lydia asked.
"Nothing, it's just..." Eirik mused. "I just saw before me stretched out the last thirty or so years of this whole damn conflict with the Dominion, like a big tapestry with each event - the execution of the Blades, the White-Gold Concordant, the secession of Hammerfell, even the Civil War - as a thread that was sewn and spun together. And when I looked at them all together, what I saw..."
"What did you see?" Lydia asked.
"Exactly what I've known since I left Bruma," Eirik said. "And what Crixus knows despite himself. The Empire may have won the Battle of the Red Ring, but they lost the war with the Dominion. When the Dominion gave their demands to the Emperor, they asked for half of Hammerfell, the banning of Talos worship and the disbanding of the Blades. What they gained at the end of the war was exactly that. The Dominion and their Thalmor leaders sacrificed a legion or more of their own people to gain through treaty what they couldn't gain in battle.
"But the big picture, the grand design of the Dominion which I saw in these events, was the same thing I had seen in Elenwen's office in just six simple words: the First War with the Empire. The Dominion had no intention of a victory by conquest with this war, only to cripple the Empire beyond repair, and this they achieved. This will leave the Empire open and vulnerable to their Second War with the Empire."
"Are you having doubts about who you chose to fight for, my thane?" Lydia asked. "Do you wish to defect to the Empire?"
"No," Eirik replied. "I believe that Ulfric has the right of it: the Empire did nothing but bow to the Thalmor and now expects all of us to do likewise. But there should be a third option, one that sees the Empire returned to a place of strength without sacrificing the dignity and heritage of the people of Skyrim."
"If there's anyone who can make that a reality, my thane," Lydia stated. "I think that it would be..."
Just then a knock sounded at the door. Lydia rose up and pulled open the door, where Gorak stood, dressed in his Legion armor with a large cloak that was made out of a single bear pelt.
"Captain wants you top side," he said in his deep, grumbling voice. He then turned around and walked away.
Eirik and Lydia girded themselves in their armor, wrapped their cloaks around themselves and made their way out of the hull. When they arrived, they were greeted by a clear, unclouded sunrise from across the sea to the east. The sky and the sea were all alight with fire from the glow of the rising sun, and to the west, the isle and the peaks of Solstheim appeared to be all aflame as well. Near at hand, Eirik saw Shaddar ordering several smaller boats prepared to disembark to the shore.
"There you are," the old Redguard said, turning towards Eirik and Lydia. "We've dropped anchor off the eastern coast of Solstheim. You and your servant may go ashore with Crixus if that is still your plan."
"My plan?" Eirik asked.
"He means my plan," Crixus spoke up. Turning around, Eirik saw the Colovian standing behind Lydia, clad once more all in black.
"Ah yes, your trap," Eirik said.
"I'm not planning any damn trap!" Crixus shouted. "Just get in the boat. Don't you want to find out what that Skaal shamaness wants of you?"
Eirik grumbled, but then made his way to one of the three boats going onto shore. Lydia followed after him while Crixus joined them as well, throwing his bow into the boat before he climbed in first.
"Who else is going with us?" Eirik asked.
"Rayya, Torgrim, Gorak and Eld," Crixus replied.
From behind there was heard several gasps and Eirik and Lydia turned around to see what might be the matter. From out of the hold of the ship there came a tall woman with pale-grey skin. As she rose, it was then that Eirik realized that she must be the giantess Eld. She was easily twelve feet tall, with elvish ears and ritualistic scars covering her body. In one hand was a staff roughly fifteen feet tall with a six foot blade on each end. As the giant rose to her full height, Eirik saw Torgrim walking out behind her, a look of loathing upon his face as he glared at Eirik.
It did not take the three boats long to cross the span between the Red Dog and the coast of Solstheim. Once they reached the coast, Eld climbed out of the boat, the icy cold waves of the shore barely coming up to her knees, and dragged the boats one by one onto shore. After they cleared the coast, the small party made their way up the snow-clad hills, following what appeared to be a line of smoke higher up through a grove of pines.
"That could be them," Crixus said, pointing to the smoke.
"I've never been to Solstheim before," Torgrim said to Crixus. "Where is this exactly that we're going?"
"The village of the Skaal," Eirik replied.
"I wasn't asking you, milk-drinker," Torgrim stated, then turned back to Crixus.
"A village of wild Nords," Crixus said. "They live outside of the law of House Redoran, so they won't object to us being there. Of course, they're not part of the Empire either, at least not yet."
"More outlaws and rebels," Torgrim said. "Just the place this one would fit in nicely with, eh?" He thumbed back to Crixus, and they both laughed.
"No, they're just idiots," Crixus said after a good laugh. "Just like the Thirsk."
"I've heard of the Thirsk," Rayya spoke up. "They were Nords who established themselves independent from the Skaal, I believe."
"Yes, that's true," Crixus replied. "I've seen them before, when I was on Solstheim. They're idiots and milk-drinkers. They lost their hall to a bunch of little rieklings."
"What are rieklings?" both Eirik and Torgrim asked as one.
"Tiny bastards," Crixus said. "About two feet high, ride on the feral ice bulls native to this island. They have a strange obsession with hoarding things. Any way, they took the hall of the Thirsk and they've been too cowardly to get it back."
"When have you seen them?" Eirik asked. "I don't remember seeing them when we were on Solstheim before, and we've been this way as well."
"I did some work for that wizard Neloth in a Dwemer ruin just south of here," Crixus said. "That was how we were able to defeat Miraak, thanks to what I did there. That was when I saw those Thirsk cowards."
"When?" Eirik asked.
"Do I have to tell you everything I do?" Crixus asked. "There are some things I just do on my own, completely independent of your life."
There was silence as they crunched on through the snow. Meanwhile, Lydia walked over to where Eirik and Rayya walked.
"So, this is Solstheim, then?" Lydia asked. "Not much to look at. Kind of like the Pale, I'd say. Hard, cold and unforgiving."
They walked on in dead silence, meeting nothing more dangerous than a fox. It helped having a giant lumbering behind them who could crack skulls with her bare hands. For a while they continued, the air growing colder and the wind blowing harsher upon their backs. After many hours passed, the tops of wooden huts and houses could be seen poking their heads above the snow that covered them. By and by, several figures clad in thick, heavy furs approached them, with spears, swords, bows and axes in hand. They began to form a circle around the adventurers and they did not look friendly.
"Don't harm them," Eirik said. "They're who we're after. They're the Skaal." Eirik walked up to them with hands held up. "I am a friend of the Skaal. We come in peace."
Last to arrive in the group of Skaal was Frea Stornsdottir, elder shaman of the Skaal. She noticed Eirik and Crixus and told the others to stand down as she approached. Eirik saw that she was still clad in the carved Nordic armor that Mjoll wore, seemingly unchanged from how he had seen her so many months ago when they left Solstheim after defeating Miraak. Only now she seemed to be much more careworn and stressed. Her eyes showed signs of having not slept in many long nights.
"Hail, Skaal-friend," Frea greeted. "It has been a long time since you freed my people from the tyranny of Miraak. We welcome you back to our village."
"Some welcome," Crixus said cynically as he gazed at all the armed Skaal around them.
"Your pardon, Skaal-friend," Frea said to Crixus. "But these are desperate times for my people. We have been wary ever since..." She looked about, then quieted down. "We shall speak more of this later. For now, you are welcome to come into our village. We will share what food we have with you, but I fear that it will not be as much as it was before."
Frea led them to the large Skaal hut where they were welcomed in to a hearth-warmed shelter from the cold while the other Skaal went about their business. Eirik was bemused for several reasons: firstly, he was bemused because of the less-than-friendly reception of the Skaal. Secondly, he was bemused because Frea had called Crixus 'Skaal-friend' as well. And lastly, he was bemused because none of the Skaal seemed at all perturbed about Eld. Inside the hut, he sat down with Lydia and Crixus next to Frea as Gorak, Rayya, Torgrim and Eld sat across from them on the other side of the hut. She served them meat and some goat's milk. The meat was meager and stringy and the milk was cold, but Eirik and Lydia enjoyed the shift from Colovian hard-tacks.
"Now that we are all seated," Frea said. "I can tell you why I have called you to this place."
"You couldn't before because of the others, I take it," Crixus said with a sly smile on his face. "A real statement of your honor and integrity, you know, lying to your people and keeping secrets from them."
"This coming from the king of secrets," Eirik retorted.
"You and your housecarl," Crixus pointed to Eirik. "Should really watch your tongues around me. I have Eld and Gorak and Torgrim. One more outburst out of you and I'll have Eld break your housecarl while I kill you myself." He gave a broad smile and then turned to Frea. "Please, go on."
"I see that we are not the only ones to have fallen on hard times," Frea said, looking at both Eirik and Crixus.
"Me? Hard times?" Crixus asked, then chuckled. "No, I'm doing rather well for myself. I just won't have this sheep's cunt insulting me just to appease his own fragile ego."
"Why did I ever believe that you had turned over a new leaf?" Eirik asked. "You're even worse than you were before."
"I can be worse if you want me to be, you ignorant little shit!" Crixus roared.
"People, please!" Frea interjected. "If you cannot leave squabbles aside, I will ask you both to leave this village."
"I can leave my qualms aside," Crixus said, then looked away and swiftly added: "This goat-fucker can't, though."
Eirik said nothing, but his hands clenched into a fist as Crixus sipped from his cup of goat's milk, then spat it back into the cup, muttering something about horker piss.
"I am sorry it does not sit with your tastes, Skaal-friend," Frea replied. "It is all we have."
"All you have?" Eirik asked.
"The All-Maker has tested us hard this winter," Frea began. "The snows have all but buried the northern half of the island, making these past few weeks hard for my people. Our food supplies are very low and there is no game to hunt, either in the north or in the ash-lands in the south. Nor can we rely on trade with Raven Rock as we have in past times, because lately they have stopped trading with us."
"Have you maybe asked them why?" Crixus asked.
"We cannot afford to send people south," Frea said. "All our strength is being directed at hunting for food."
"I thought you said there wasn't any game up here," Crixus prodded.
"There is not," Frea replied grimly. "But we have no choice. We must eat or we will surely starve to death." She sighed.
"Don't you have anyone to spare?" Eirik asked.
"No," Frea shook her head. "Many have been lost in the snows or wounded on the hunt, and these we...we tend to as best we can. There are already too few to send out into the fields to hunt."
"Then it seems," Crixus spoke up. "That now would be a good time for you to accept the help of the Empire. Where is your chieftain? I should be speaking to her instead."
Frea did not answer, but turned around to one lying behind her against the wall. Eirik had noticed this person while they had entered and thought nothing of it until Frea lifted the fur blanket from off the face. Lying underneath was a dark-haired Nord woman with a large vertical gash down her face from forehead to the bottom of her lower lip.
"Chieftain Fanari Strong-Arm," Frea said. "Was wounded hunting a horker. The wound was grievous and I have been using all of my skill to heal her." She covered the face of her chieftain with the fur blanket again and turned back to her guests, her face downcast.
"First my father Storn," Frea continued. "And now our chieftain. I have been given the full weight of being the ruler and protector of my people. Food is scarce, both from the lack of hunters and game and from thieves from the ash-lander bandits. But there is another threat coming, one which has threatened my people in times past, but has always been weathered. Now, I fear, we may not weather it in this age."
"If it's the will of your All-Maker," Crixus scoffed. "What's the problem?"
"We have not behaved wantonly against the All-Maker," Frea said, shaking her head in disbelief. "In every matter we have done as we have always done for generations. We are being tested, but we do not have to fail that test, not if there are Skaal-friends who can help us."
"So you plan on cheating your god?" Crixus chuckled. "Yeah, you didn't see what Miraak got for doing that little trick."
"Please, pay him no heed," Eirik spoke up. "Tell me, though: what is this other threat you've spoken of?"
Frea sighed. "The signs have been seen, at least one of them. My Storn told me of the legends his grandfather as a child, when the man-beasts came to our island and hunted freely: a pity that it has happened in my life-time."
"What?" Eirik asked. "What is it?"
Frea answered with only one word. "Bloodmoon."
Crixus smile faded, but the others looked on in surprise and confusion. At length Lydia spoke up.
"Uh, excuse me?" she asked. "What is Bloodmoon? I've never heard of it."
"Who is this one?" Frea asked Eirik.
"She is my servant Lydia," Eirik replied. "She is a skilled warrior and a brave woman."
"It is good to see the Dragonborn," Frea said. "Carry with such notable company. As for the Bloodmoon, it is something of a legend among my people. Once in an age, the demon Hircine will come into the world and lead the man-beasts on a great hunt across the island. None now living remember the hunt, for the last one took place in the time of the Bloodskal, whom the elves in the ash-lands call 'Nerevarine.'"
"Then how do you know that it could be happening again?" Crixus asked.
"My father told me of the signs that would precede the Bloodmoon," Frea replied. "First is the coming of the Hounds, which I know is near. The very land cries out with the blood of those slain by the first arrivals. The next sign is the Fire from the Eye of Glass, a plume of flame upon the surface of Lake Fjalding to the south of this village. The third sign is the Tide of Woe, when the bodies of many horkers wash up dead on the northern shores of the island. I fear this might have already come to pass with the sudden shortage of their game. The final sign is when the smaller moon turns red like blood, then the beasts roam free across the island."
Silence fell upon them all as they listened eagerly to what Frea was saying. Eirik saw that it was Crixus who seemed the most concerned of the bunch. Torgrim, Gorak and Eld ate quietly while Rayya and Lydia listened intently. There was a reason this Redguard huscarl was called bright; for she kept her ears and eyes opened and, aside from a quick wit, knew much.
"So what happens now?" Eirik asked. "How do we fit into this?"
"My people will defend themselves against this," Frea said. "As we have always done. But we are in such a sorry situation that we cannot hope to defend and hunt food for ourselves." She turned to Crixus. "I am not cheating the All-Maker, I am helping my people rise to this challenge. I do not ask you..." She turned over to Eirik. "...either of you to do more or less than what you wish to do. If you are willing..."
"I am willing," Eirik spoke up.
"And I," Lydia added.
"Fool!" Crixus snarled. "Never agree to something before knowing what you're agreeing to!"
"I do not ask you to do anything greater than what you did before," Frea spoke up. "All I ask is that you search the island for my people who are lost. See if they live still and bring them back to the village."
"Easy enough, even considering our outlawed position," Crixus stated.
"Do you agree?" Frea asked.
"Yeah, sure, why not?" Crixus said swiftly, feigning disinterest. "Now, what's the pay?"
"Pay?" Frea asked.
"Well, yes," Crixus replied. "I don't work for free, and whatever you're paying us for this, I want double of what he gets." He pointed to Eirik.
"We have no money," Frea stated. "Our trading with the elves in the ash-land have always been for food, hunting tools and cloth. We never charged them money for our goods."
"Another reason you're in the shitter," Crixus said under his breath. "Well, if there's no pay, I won't be attached to it."
"He will help you," Torgrim spoke up suddenly. "We all will, and there will be no pay."
"Torgrim, don't!" Crixus interjected.
"This people need help," Torgrim said, turning to Frea. "And help you we will."
Eirik looked at the tall Nord with a new light. Aside from his crass behavior and his love for the Empire, Eirik knew very little else about this pale mountain of a man. Yet when he heard him offer his services and those of Crixus, he saw a different look in his eyes. It was a look he had seen in Mjoll's eyes when she spoke of the people of Riften. Whatever he might have been, his care for the Skaal seemed to be genuine.
Meanwhile, he mentally began to prepare himself for what would come next. The day was clear and it was still morning: plenty of time to go hunting for the lost Skaal across the snowy mountains of the uplands of Solstheim.
(AN: I try to make quick updates for this story, but chapters don't seem to be coming out any sooner or shorter than three thousand words. I hope things don't take a turn for the worse. My brother just did a really big dick move where he threatened to A] take away my use of his laptop privilege [the only way i can work on any story when I'm not at the college since I don't have a working computer - burnt-out hard-drives NOT viruses] and B] threatened to not help me get to work [I'm almost twenty-four and don't have a car - the shame, I know - because my car was sold when we moved and with college books peaking three hundred bucks apiece, I really don't have money to spare for getting a car]. And why would he do such a dickish action, you may ask? Why, because he is of the belief that the Red Mountain's eruption caused the collapse of the city of Winterhold...about a hundred and twenty years after the fact. And he wants to bring in plate tectonics and erosion into why it took a hundred years to collapse, but then all those forces of nature can be negated by "magical barriers" when it comes to why the College survived. I, on the other hand, think that it might have been a failed experiment or something from the College mages: they couldn't stop it and they felt that their knowledge and lore and secrets were more worthy of saving than half the people of Winterhold and raised said barriers around the city and let the rest fall into the sea. And because he was SO convinced in his right-ness, he was ready to revoke any opportunity of writing or getting to work just because I disagree with him [and what's worse, he's never this way about the Empire or Ulfric or those god-killing Dunmer, only about the College of Winterhold])
(Lots of interesting stuff in this chapter, like Gorak's ward Eld the Giant [title from a real jotnar from the Norse tradition as well as the third album of Norwegian band Enslaved. I also decided to pull the Bloodmoon into the story, or at least part of, as well as go on into the next part of the story. Like in The Dragonborn and the Lioness, I'm going to say that Frea gets unfairly overlooked by the Elder Scrolls fandom in exchange for Aela the scantily-clad Huntress [even Mjoll, who is the butt-end of jokes about Grimsever, thieves and her friendship with Aerin, receives more attention than Frea]. Of course she will return in my stories, this one included. [seriously, she doesn't even get a category in the Character selection on here for Elder Scrolls stories, whereas Isaac ben-Abraham of the Bible, NOT Issac - seriously did the moderators of this site not even spell-check their names? You can even go to the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, and look up the name and it is ALWAYS spelled I-S-A-A-C! - gets a whole category to his own, even though, of the three pre-Mosaic patriarchs, Isaac had the least to do as far as spiritual and political and social action.])