Enjoy the next chapter! And just to let you know, I'm thinking about starting another fanfic, so if I do, I won't take too much time dedicated to this one. I've still got most of the future chapters planned. ^^
Tirane and Ralof rode through the cold night, mostly in a warm, comfortable silence. He wasn't sure what to say when he saw Ralof in Windhelm. He could have almost been there with him from the start, if he had followed him from Helgen. Ralof was being friendly but Tirane could tell he was holding back. They hadn't talked much about the dragon attack either. It seemed taboo.
The wind was biting cool, but also refreshing. It calmed Tirane's nerves and fever, and luckily, he wasn't as tired as he thought he would be. He was just glad it was no longer snowing, although snow and ice dusted the roads.
"Tirane," Ralof called, slowing his horse, and Tirane reluctantly followed suit.
"What's wrong?"
"Why don't we set up camp here before going further north? It's harder to sleep in the snow," Ralof said.
Tirane stared at him. "I was hoping to get to Winterhold by morning."
"You need rest," Ralof told him. "The first thing I noticed when I saw you again was how sick you look."
"I-I feel fine-"
"Stop now and we'll be there by midday." Ralof had completely halted his horse.
Tirane wordlessly slipped off his horse and waited for Ralof to do the same. Clutching the rein, he led his horse into the group of trees surrounding the road, noticing how light drops of snow began falling from the sky.
"I'll gather some firewood," Ralof muttered, disappearing into the trees.
Tirane sat on a bundle of cloth, creating visible, shaky gasps of breath in the air, and stared up at the night sky. It was cloudy, making the stars invisible. He managed a glimpse at the two moons high above, glimmering down.
Ralof returned with heavy steps, carrying a bundle of wood. He silently arranged them on the ground, bringing the fire to life and when he finished, he collapsed back beside Tirane.
They sat in silence for a moment, Tirane watching the red flames flicker against the blue surrounding darkness. Every time it flickered more than usual, his heart beat faster, as if startled.
He suddenly noticed Ralof handing him a piece of bread. He took a small bite, but it seemed too tough for him to enjoy it. It wasn't until he forced another couple of bites down his throat that Ralof spoke.
"Why are you going to the college?" he asked curiously, to which Tirane just stared at the ground. "Jarl Ulfric wouldn't tell me."
"That's because he doesn't know," Tirane said. He gave up on the bread and laid it on the cloth. "Are you mad at me for leaving with the Imperials?"
"I don't know you," Ralof replied calmly. "I shouldn't have assumed you were one of us just because you were a prisoner."
"It seems like I will be soon," Tirane smirked humourlessly.
"There must be something I'm missing here," Ralof mused. "I don't understand why Ulfric would want you. Especially since this is against your will."
It suddenly occurred to Tirane that Ralof didn't know he was Dragonborn, and so he kept quiet about it. He wanted to spend time with at least one person who didn't expect the world from him. "It's complicated," he merely supplied. "Besides, aren't you just some soldier? Why question your orders?"
"I'm not questioning them," Ralof said. "But you aren't some soldier. I was just wondering why you're joining us when you left with the Imperials."
"Well, I didn't join with them if that's what you're getting at," Tirane snapped, immediately regretting his tone. "I mean… I got a pardon which was what I wanted. But I guess that's meaningless now."
They sat in silence a while longer, Ralof slowly chewing on his bread, and Tirane waiting for any urge to sleep to arrive. When it didn't come, a question arose in his mind, something he'd be wondering for a while now.
"Do you know Hadvar?" Tirane asked, mind wandering to their brief encounter at Helgen.
Ralof sighed and his face screwed up slightly in a mixture of unease, anger and regret. "We were friends, once. Both grew up in Riverwood. Both fought together in the Great War. And here we are now."
Tirane wanted to inquire further, but he sensed he was crossing some touching boundaries for Ralof. "I never thought I'd see you again. I didn't know you made it out alive."
"And same with you. I lost Jarl Ulfric and prayed to Talos he would make it out. Meanwhile, we escaped through the keep and found some secret entrance. Killed a few Imperials to get there. And we met up with the Jarl later on the road. He was anxious to return immediately. I was slow though. Suffered a slice to the chest by an Imperial soldier."
"I'm sorry," Tirane said, poking at the firewood with a stick. "You found a better way out than we did at least."
"Why is that?"
"I'd face a few soldiers any day to a cave bear."
Ralof chuckled merrily and Tirane stared at him in disbelief. But after a few seconds, he found himself laughing too. That life-threatening event seemed so long ago now. He had went the next step and taken on a dragon. But whatever he did was lost to him now. What else was he supposed to do?
"Hopefully this month will fly by," Ralof mused. "I need to get back out there."
"Aren't you worried about the dragons?" Tirane asked.
"Haven't seen one myself. I guess they'd be a bigger threat to us all than the Imperials. But we've not got time to dedicate to them really. If we don't take this chance and fight free of the Empire now, I fear we never will."
"I've never cared much for politics," Tirane told him. "So I don't know the situation very well. But one thing I do know is that every damn Thalmor I've seen deserves a sword through their throat."
He wasn't sure where the phrase came from in his mind, but Ralof took it well and toasted his water bottle with a chuckle. "To the Stormcloaks!"
Tirane didn't toast himself but gave a slight, uneasy smile. He was reluctant to accept that hating the Thalmor put him on one side of the war. He'd bet his life most of the Empire hated the Thalmor too.
Before he knew it, Ralof had keeled over and was snoring softly on the ground. With no more company or distractions, Tirane rested his head, waiting for sleep to take over, watching the flame diminish. And eventually he did sleep, but not long after, Ralof nudged his shoulder as the red sunrise cast the sky and his exhaustion quickly caught up with him.
The sight was of great relief to him and he felt a massive weight was lifted off his shoulders. The first thing he noticed was the massive structure in the distance, rising off the edge of the cliff with the sea behind it. Everywhere was covered with snow but the sun beamed strongly. Tirane had regretted not sleeping much the night before, feeling even more fatigued than he did in Windhelm, but nothing could now stop him from entering the college.
It wasn't until they approached the stables that he began examining the small rows of buildings surrounding the path to the college. Without the tall, looming building at the end, the town would have looked miserable and cold. It was even smaller than Riverwood.
They left their horses to the care of the stableman who didn't say a word to them. He had a wrinkled face and sour eyes, and wore a constant frown.
It was the same when they entered the town. The few people who were around had pale complexions, and stared at them with either annoyance or suspicion. Tirane tried to ignore them. He was only here for the college, but their stares still unnerved him.
"Ralof, what's wrong with the people here?" he asked him quietly as they walked.
"Nothing really. Just keep to themselves. They don't like the college much."
"But why? Without the college, no-one would come here," Tirane pointed out.
Ralof looked at him as if he were mad. "What do you mean, why? Don't you know what happened here?"
Tirane merely shook his head.
"Sixty years ago, this was a city as big as Solitude. People would travel all the way here, through the snow, just to visit. It was historical and wealthy. But then one day, out of nowhere, most of the city collapsed into the sea after a great storm, leaving only these buildings you see now."
Tirane had looked at the surroundings as Ralof shared what happened. "But still, why would they hate the college?"
"The college was the only place unharmed. Doesn't that sound suspicious to you?" Ralof asked.
"I suppose… Perhaps they used magic to protect themselves."
"Aye, that's what they said. Except, if they could do that, they could've saved the rest of Winterhold."
"I still don't think they caused it, if that's what you're getting at," Tirane muttered.
"All I know is magic isn't to be trusted. It's too powerful, too mysterious. And these people have plenty reason to distrust the college."
Tirane brushed off what he said as typical Nord superstition. It did make him wonder about what happened exactly. And even if the college was the cause of it, the display of power intrigued him.
At the end of the quiet town was a large stone slope, leading off as a bridge – the only entrance to the college. Ralof gestured Tirane to continue, and his chest began to tighten in excitement.
He tried hard not to slip on the thin sheet of ice on the bridge, grabbing the short walls for comfort. He still eagerly made up to the first tower of the bridge, joining another slope. But before he passed, he jumped a little as he found a young mage sitting under the tower's shadow with a pile of books beside her. She seemed to be startled a little too, and immediately stood when she saw them.
"Cross the bridge at your own peril!" she warned. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry!"
"B-but I'm here to join the college," Tirane told her, confused. Ralof raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh, forgive me. Most who come here are curious Nords who want to poke around and share gossip."
"Well, may I enter?" Tirane asked, perplexed.
"Perhaps." He noticed her attempting to size him up with curious eyes, and from within the shadows, he suddenly noticed her High Elf traits. "But what is it you expect to find within?"
He glanced down at his feet nervously. He cursed himself for not thinking of what to say beforehand. "I seek the knowledge of the Elder Scrolls," he blurted out, shuffling his hair. Perion had talked about them briefly during his studies.
The High Elf raised her eyebrows. "Do you?" she asked. "It is true there are some here who have spent years studying the accumulated knowledge of the scrolls. But what you seek does not come easily, and can destroy those without a strong will."
"I understand," Tirane said.
"Well, it would seem that the College has what you seek. The question now is what you can offer the College. Not just anyone is allowed inside. Those wishing to enter must show some degree of skill with magic. A small test, if you will."
"But I can't use any magic yet," Tirane said, disheartened. Had he travelled all this way for nothing?
"That's alright," she assured him. Turning around, she grabbed one of her books and showed him. "Here's a spell tome. Study that and learn your first spell. Then I'll admit you to the college once you show it to me."
He took the book gratefully, feeling the soft leather. "All I have to do is read this?"
"Study it. Believe me, some people can't get their head around it, no matter how hard they try."
Phew... Even I'm relieved he's finally got there. :P Next chapter will be Tirane again~
Thanks for reading! ^^ Please review! D; (I've even thought about rewriting some chapters, but I don't know if people like them or not...)