Summer finals are finally done \(^o^)/

I start fall semester in a week T_T

Chapter Twenty-Five

Felwinter's mother once told him to hold onto to his peace. Hold onto it, enjoy it to the absolute fullest and when it was inevitably time, let it go. The next problem would always be waiting for him around the corner and avoiding it would not work for it had the patience to outlast gods.

As usual, she had been right. Felwinter's entire adult life seemed to be crisis after crisis with snatches of peace to punctuate them. He had left High Rock for Hammerfell when he was twenty two. Then moved on to Cyrodiil when he had turned twenty nine and onto Skyrim, crossing into Falkreath Hold on the day of his thirtieth birthday in the month of Frostfall.

He couldn't say he's experienced worst or more interesting birthdays. None of the previous twenty nine have almost ended with him executed unjustly only to be accidentally saved by the fabled god of destruction himself.

There was one other that nearly resulted in him being physically injured but thinking back on it, that beating might have been deserved. He had drunkenly seduced the wife of some wealthy Redguard merchant he had interacted with only a few times beforehand and had given her, a woman who was used to the most expensive silken bedsheets a good night in some rickety old bed off in some rundown tavern in the shady part of town.

Then when said merchant sought him out, personally confronting him to demand satisfaction, Felwinter gave it to him. Three times that night and twice more in the morning.

One would think the wife would be the one better at using her mouth but then one would wind up being oh so very and happily wrong.

Moth refuses to believe him when Felwinter says he used to be worse. All the claim elicits from the grizzled Orsimer is a disbelieving grunt of, "How?". He had been young, stupid of the unwitting variety rather than deliberately as he is now when it benefits him, lonely and combining all of that with a fondness for full, shapely hips or thick, powerful shoulders….

The two worked it out in the end.

His birthdays were either boring or completely downhill from there, up until Helgen. Helgen took the bar of his standards and buried it six feet under; it couldn't possibly get worse after that. It certainly taught him to appreciate the boring ones more.

Helgen, High Hrothgar, the Eye of Magnus, Kodlak's death and Alduin's defeat to Astrid and Madanach. Then the vampire attack on Whiterun, Ulfric's attack on Whiterun, Mercer Frey, meeting his father for the very first time, meeting the Blades for the first time in a very long and the assault on Castle Volkihar just last week, the moments to breathe in between had become an exceptional rarity and something he had learned to hold onto, cherish with every fiber of his being and make it worth having.

But Felwinter has s walked in the land of the Nordic dead, spoken to gods, fought a god, killed both a god and a wannabe and saved the world three times over. He's seen too much just to remain idle.

Which is why he was here, volunteering his skills in Restoration at the Temple of Kynareth, resetting the arm of some foul mouthed guard who had attempted to put the limb back into place himself and failed miserably. When the pain finally won over the man's pride, he had dragged himself over to the Dragonborn, who was known to most for being effective at the jobs requiring brute strength and not for his gentleness.

The blonde, red faced Nord wasn't a part of the 'most'. Otherwise he would have known what to expect and kept his complaints to a minimum or at least gone to someone else. "Talos' fat balls man, I thought you were a healer!"

"Who lied to you?" Felwinter moved his arm into a better position, knowing he'd only get one chance to knock it back into place. He wasn't an expert but he was rather decent with healing magic. He had to be, given the amount of times he's been cut, stabbed, burned, chilled and shocked. Experience was a always a better teacher than simple schooling.

The guard was on his stomach. Felwinter had stretched out the arm towards him and placed his palm firmly against the joint. "On the count of three, okay?" For all his bluster, the young man suddenly looked very nervous, nodding vigorously. Felwinter pushed a bit more magic into him, numbing the pain a bit more. "Alright, one, two and..." Felwinter pushed down and the shoulder snapped back into place.

The Nord roared and thrashed while Felwinter pressed his weight against his back, keeping him in place until he finally calmed down, his chest heaving under him. Then Felwinter pushed even more magic into him, to lessen the pain while he began to bind the arm. "Now I believe we were discussing Talos' fat hairy balls?"

Despite everything, the guardsman laughed. "Please don't."

"I mean you see the statue outside. Those legs…"

"Daedra take you, man."

Felwinter tightened the final bandages. "Akatosh willing, the second I find my way into Oblivion." He helped the man to his feet, "Alright, you're good to go. Get out."

"Your bedside manner is improving." Danica nodded to the guardsman as he passed her. "It is nice to see. I remember when you first started volunteering your time here, you tried to fist-fight one of my patients."

"Your patient was Hrongar. Can you blame me?"

"You then put Vilkas into a chokehold…"

"And now he thinks twice about referring to what is between me and Hrongar as 'belligerent sexual tension'." He shrugged and smiled brightly, "Worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"Hmm." The sound she made was both admonishing and amused. She was a woman no longer surprised by even his wildest antics. Usually a trait seen in those closest to him such as his mother, his husband and kids and his housecarls; the man who had taught him how to be a man, the dragon who had taught him how to be more. When you sew someone back together so many times after so many fights, both extremely instigated and not as extremely instigated, then there is little they could do to surprise you anymore. The younger him would have taken it as a challenge.

"Since you've done much in the way if improvement, I would ask a favor." Felwinter then noticed the brown leather pack at her hip, strapped to her shoulder. "This war is winding to a close, thanks to your help but many injured Legionnaires and civilians find their way to our doorsteps. Supplies have been dwindling and we need time to gather more. Can I trust you to run this place for a few hours?"

"Of course you can," he replied.

"And nothing will be on fire when I return?" she continued, her eyebrow raised in a high arch, "Nothing and no one?"

"Such doubt! Well earned but still." That made her smile. "I'll hold down the fort and the temple will still be here when you return. I promise."

Danica visibly relaxed and if Felwinter had been a completely different man, he might have been a little insulted. Either way, she'd have a point. "Thank you again, Felwinter. Truly, there was a million things you could be doing right now, we're really grateful you took the time to help us."

"It's no trouble at all." He started to walk her to the door, the other temple healers already waiting for her outside. "And like you said, nothing and no one will be on fire."

"Drakon!"

The gods just loved testing him, didn't they? Akatosh had no sliver of mercy in his heart for his last born son.

Hrongar, as usual, was loud, paying no mind to the injured and informed attempting to rest. The total opposite of his brother, who didn't feel the need to immediately take the attention of everyone in the room just to make himself heard.

Felwinter was with one of Battle-Born's farmers, a Bosmer woman who had twisted her ankle out in the fields. She winced and flinched when Felwinter's lapse in concentration caused his spell to temporarily cut off, making the pain flare up again. Felwinter took more time with his binding.

"Drakon!" He yelled again. The lady flinched more from the noise this time. "Have you gone deaf?"

"You rarely have anything to say worth listening to." Felwinter gave a small smile to the woman, who stifled laughter. He fastened the last of the bandages. "Besides, I'm occupied."

"I need a potion."

"Stand up and walk around for me. Slowly," he said to the woman, helping her down from the table. "Trouble getting it up for your lady friend? Have you tried men?"

"It's for Nelkir, fool!"

Felwinter slowly helped the farmer around the room, feeling and ignoring Hrongar's scowl on the back of his head. "Tell the Battle-Borns you're in no condition to work but you should be fine after a week," He ordered as he helped her to the door. "If they take issue, send them to me."

"Are you not hearing me, Redguard?! I said I need a potion!"

Call it Beast Instincts or dragon instincts or the fact that they have been in this very position before but Felwinter felt it coming. A large hand moving towards his shoulder, either to pin him against the wall or force him to turn around and face the they man. Barely turning to face him, Felwinter's own arm flew up, his index finger stopping inches away from Hrongar's face.

Hrongar's arm stopped, his hand frozen halfway to Felwinter before slowly lowering back to his side. His eyes never left Felwinter's finger. The last time they had been in this position, a tiny bolt of lightning had blackened a tiny spot on the wall behind his head.

But only because he managed to move away in time.

Felwinter held the man at finger point for an uncomfortable amount of time before he asked, a little too cheerfully, "So what did you do?"

Hrongar's eyes shifted from Felwinter's hand to his face and back. "The boy hurt-"

"No, he didn't, otherwise you wouldn't be there." Felwinter's finger shifted position slightly, pointing to a table with a crate of small potions behind them, "Take one. And hurry back before big brother finds out you injured his son again."

Finally, Felwinter's hand dropped. Hrongar took several steps backwards before turning towards the table. He reached in with both hands and then ducked when a thunderbolt blasted a tiny crack in the wall above his head. "Can you not count? Are you that much of an idiot? I said one!"

His head still ducked but his eyes burning with rage, Hrongar indignantly dropped one bottle back into the crate before stomping his way out of the temple, cursing Felwinter and every single one of his ancestors under his breath.

Felwinter walked towards the crate of potions, stared at the tiny black spot on the wall he had create, dragged his thumb over his tongue and started trying to scrub it out before Danica could return and see it. Half an hour in and he was already breaking his promise.

"Felwinter?! Felwinter!"

He could tell Vilkas' voice from a crowd of them. The man being panickedly called for remained slouched in his chair, turned away from the door. "Unless you're dying,then it can wait!" He called. "If you are indeed dying, do so quietly."

"Felwinter, it's Farkas!" Now the voice was right behind his head. Felwinter stood up with a groan and turned to find Vilkas right behind him, slouching under the weight of his brother, who was completely out cold. "I-I mean we were training and he left his right side open and I…sort of…hit him." The dark haired Nord looked so horribly guilty that if Felwinter were a better man, he'd actually feel bad for the way he started cackling.

"This man and his head injuries, right?" He crowed, grabbing Farkas' stubbly chin and shaking his limp head around.

"This is not funny, Drakon! He could have a brain injury or something!"

"At this rate, he probably does! After that dragon and the-"

"Will you just help him?!"

"Fine, just…I don't know, leave him on the ground some-oh don't give me that look, I was joking!" He took Farkas' limp arm and pulled his large frame over his shoulder, carrying him over to the nearest bed. His called the magic to his hands and started to run them over the Nord's head. "No damage. The bastard's hard-headed."

Vilkas was looming over him like a mother hen, worrying at his lip. Felwinter dropped the spell and a smirk crossed his lips. "Wow, you're really worried about him. Worried about your baby brother?"

"We're twins!"

"D'aww, look at you! You're worried!" He reached to pinch Vilkas' red cheeks and Vilkas knocked it away. He brought his hand up again, only to have it knocked away again. A third time, a fourth, a fifth, Vilkas' visible irritation growing deeper and deeper with every attempt. Felwinter kept still for a few moments before slowly raising his hand again when Vilkas drew back a tight fist. "Alright, alright!"

He started to loosen the straps on Farkas' armor. "I'll watch him, wait for him to wake up."

Vilkas looked between the two them. "You don't have some kind of spell that can wake him now?"

"None that won't hurt!" Felwinter dropped back into his seat, "We'll wait and then you can spend the next few weeks pretending you didn't almost cry over him. Sound good?"

"Daedra take you, you smug bastard."

"Gods willing, Vilkas." He resumed his original slouched position with a yawn, "Gods willing."

"Does it hurt?"

Braith sniffed and lied, "No."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not!" She flinched as the hot pain that moving her face brought up coursed through her.

Felwinter hummed and moved his hand down the faint bruise on the little girl's cheek. When she whined and her eyes watered, he pushed diverted some of his energy away from repair to alleviating. "You know, if you're gonna go around picking fights, it doesn't look good for you to be dragging yourself over to the healer, crying every time."

"I'm not crying!" She quickly brought up her hand to wipe away a tear preparing to fall.

"Of course not." He started to slowly tape the bandages on and remain silent, watching her little brown eyes flit across the floor.

"You know…" he started again, "if you wanted Lars to like you, treating him nicely would get you farther. Farther than picking fights with him and then running here not-crying when he finally fights back at least."

The lids of her eyes lowered even further. "But what if he doesn't like me back?"

"If he rejects you?" He said, "Rejection's like a wound or this bruise." He sealed the last bandage on, "It hurts now, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "But is it always going to hurt?" He asked.

"No."

"No, it won't. And soon, you won't even remember it happened. If he says no, let it hurt, let it heal and then move on. You can't change his mind." Felwinter heard someone enter, from the rarely used back entrance. He straightened up, sent Braith on her way with a jerk of his head and walked over to table, using a basin of water to clean his hands. "So did someone lose a finger? A hand? An arm?" He asked whoever had just walked in, drying his hands"Make it entertaining for me at least."

"Drakon!" His name was said in a loud, desperate whisper, "Felwinter, it's us!"

He finally turned and the cloth fell to the ground. "What. The. Fuck are you two doing here?!"

,Sapphire one of the ranking members of. Skyrim's Thieves guild was standing there, with an Argonian woman's arm wrapped around his neck as she held one leg up off the ground. "We had nowhere else to go!"

"So you come here?! To the biggest city in the hold?!" He looked over to make sure Farkas was still knocked out before helping Sapphire carry the woman over to a bed, "How did you even know where I lived?"

"Brynjolf mentioned it sometime ago." Sapphire was pacing. The Argonian thief, a new recruit he did not recognize, silently beared her pain with a scowl on her sharp face. Disappointment in herself no doubt. "And we had nowhere else to go. She's in no condition to travel."

"Of all the places…" he immediately started working on healing the most superficial damage. "Nobody knows I lead the Guild, you know that right? Do you know how much shit I'd be in if people were to see me helping you?"

"I just told you we had nowhere else to go!" She started to pace even faster.

"Alright, alright. Don't burn a trail into my floor, I have to clean that." His magic started to penetrate deeper into the bone. "How did you even get into the city?"

"I told the guards there was some trouble out in the field."

He turned away from his work to look her up and down, "You played up the damsel in distre-"

"I played up the damsel, yes."

"Breathy voice, heaving tits?"

"Their eyes never left my chest even as they were tripping over themselves to go and investigate, yes." He could hear the small bit of pride within the irritation.

"I could never pull it off honestly," he quickly started to wrap the Argonian's ankle, speaking to her now, "Voice too deep. Tits not big enough." He grabbed and squeezed at his own chest for emphasis, earning a small, if pained smile. "Though there was this one guard, in Markarth. Young, blonde, rather short, could never keep his eyes off my shoulders or arms so I would just loom over him sometimes. Give him something to think about when he's alone at night." He fastened the last of the bindings. "Still do but the guard captain he's currently fucking doesn't like that. Or he wishes I would do it to him, I can't tell yet."

The Argonian laughed this time. Felwinter stood and pointed towards one of the wardrobes. "There's some cloaks in there. Cover yourselves, get out of the city and take the carriage back to Riften."

"We apologize for the trouble," the Argonian woman said, speaking for the first time.

"It's fine," he lied, as if their presence here didn't put him in an extremely compromising position. Sapphire returned with the long, hooded cloak already wrapped around her shoulders and helped her companion on with hers. "Some people here already think I'm some kind of thief. I'd rather not prove them right. They'll be so insufferably smug about it."

On occasion, the gods would see fit to throw him a bone. A reward for the good deed he managed to do every once in blue moons. A particularly lucrative job or a valuable find tucked away in a Nordic crypt or Dwemer fort.

This bone was different because this came in the form of a big Orsimer man and his little Imperial son planted firmly in the temple chairs, waiting to be attended to.

"Not one word, Drakon."

The Drakon in question was currently weighing the costs and benefits of him breaking down in laughter. because here was Moth, sitting calmly, glowering at the growing amusement in Felwinter's eyes with a long feathered arrow sticking out of his shoulder and a horribly guilty looking Samuel sitting next to him, nervous fiddling the bow around in his hands.

"So-"

"No," Moth cut off, "Don't talk, don't laugh, don't make a gods forsaken sound. Just get this damned thing out of me." Samuel ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut, as if Moth's snarling was being aimed at him.

Still trying to hold back his amusement, Felwinter put his hand to Moth's wound, starting off by numbing the pain and feeling for the arrow head. "Where's Lucia?" He asked. Not deep at all. That's good.

"With the Companions," Moth bit out, punctuating his answer with a growl. Felwinter must have hit a sensitive spot. Samuel only curled more into himself. "Left her there after this mess started."

Felwinter touched the arrow. Moth flinched and Samuel practically flew out of his skin, squeaking apology after apology after apology.

"You know, this all looks very familiar." Felwinter braced his hand against Moth's chest and wrapped his hand around the wooden shaft.

"What are you on about, Felwinter?" Moth shook his head, "You know what? I don't care. Just get-" Moth's order was cut off by a pained snark when Felwinter pushed against his chest and ripped the arrow out. Felwinter immediately began to dull the pain and repair the damage. Moth's deep breaths began to quiet and his shoulders relaxed as time passed. Samuel looked as if he might start crying.

"You got him good, Sam," Felwinter said, hoping to calm him down before he burst. "Just make sure you keep your sights away from people. For now, at least."

Moth groaned, less in pain and more from weariness. "Quit moping, Samuel. It was an accident and nothing more." He jerked his head at the exit, "Go find your sister. Stay with-" Samuel bolted before he could even finish. "Samuel! Hey Samuel, your bow! Boy!"

"I'm serious, I really have seen this before. In one of the Elder Scrolls," Felwinter muttered to himself, rubbing his chin, "Perpetually angry father. Son shoots him with arrow…"

"What in the world are you going on about?"

"I believe I was a talking head…"

The headache Moth was developing hurt worse than his shoulder. "I thought you said you were going to stop reading the Scrolls…"

Felwinter turned back to him. "Did I? Huh." He waved his hand dismissively, "Well in that case, forget everything you just heard."

"So what's his story?" Moth jerked his chin towards Farkas and took Felwinter's hip flask when it was passed to him.

"His brother knocked him out cold during training. It's all very funny. He feels really bad."

Things had slowed down. The sun was setting and most workers were ending their day. From inside the temple, they could hear the streets becoming louder as more people met up and made for the tavern.

Felwinter wasn't interested; Danica was not yet back and he's honestly had his full of people and their issues for the day. Moth was never that big a fan of people in the first place; too draining, he would say. So they remained in the temple, leaning on each other against the wall, passing a flask between them and watching Farkas drift around in his own little dream world. His body would twitch and shift on occasion. He was probably just asleep at this point.

"Any idea when the priestess might return?" Moth twisted his head to stretch out a crick in his neck, "I'm ready to go home. We spent all day in those plains."

"You know I'm the only one who has to stay, right? You can leave whenever."

"I'd rather leave with you." Moth propped one large foot up on a stool, his hand squeezing Felwinter's knee.

"You afraid to walk the dark streets alone?" He teased, "Scared Samuel might be waiting around any corner with another arrow?"

Moth sighed, "Ah, that boy. Should probably apologize to him at some point."

"That'll be fun to-"

The temple doors suddenly burst open and Danica rushed in, forehead shining even in the cool air and completely out of breath. "Felwinter, thank the gods. Please, I need your help."

Felwinter and Moth, both already on their feet, shared a look. "What's the matter? Is someone hurt?"

"Yes, someone is and I really need your help to save his life. Please." The look on her face was a desperate as she sounded and Felwinter couldn't recall a time he had ever seen her so near to losing her composure. Moth put the hand of his uninjured arm up to Felwinter's lower back and pushed to get him moving. Danica led Felwinter through the streets of Whiterun, weaving their way through small, talkative crowds of people until they had reached the city gates.

"How far away is this person, Danica?"

"They're close but they're hidden away," she said, "I couldn't risk anyone finding them."

Felwinter's mind immediately went to Sapphire and the injured Argonian. "Uh, who are these people exactly?" he asked in a tight voice, "Why do they need to be hidden away?"

"You'll see," was all she answered, "And when you do, please help them. Regardless of current events in Skyrim, I promised to save this man's life and I do not want to break it." Danica led him off the main path and into the shadow of Whiterun's stone walls. "We're close."

"LAAS," Felwinter Shouted. In a sea of dark, a red cloud stood out to Felwinter. Too big to be one person. Two people; one holding the other.

Danica picked up the hem of her skirt and started jogging. She stopped and dropped to knees at the base of the walls. "How is he?" He heard her murmur as he jogged to catch up, "Did anyone spot you?"

"No, no, we're fine. And he's the same. He's…." A second voice. Nordic accent, exhausted, pained and more than a little terrified, the way it was trembling.

Felwinter finally reached them. Two Nords, a badly injured man in the arms of a woman, who was covered in blood and Felwinter couldn't even begin to guess whose it was. But what truly stood out was what they were wearing. Guard armor, similar to the uniforms worn by Whiterun's, only instead of golden yellow sashes, these two wore light blue.

He took in the sight of two of them, thought of the likely and possibly severe consequences he would face should what he was being asked to do come to light and dropped to his knees. "What happened?"

The woman had one hand around the man's shoulder and the other pressed on his stomach. "Sword wound from some of those damned Legionnaires that caught us off guard," she spat, "I managed to close it up before we left but its opened again. It could be infec-"

Felwinter already had his hands up and held over the man's wound. "It's not. No poison. Clean, neat cut. That's good." The man grunted. Felwinter tore his eyes away from his task to look at him and only found the man staring back.

Then his entire body tensed. He had figured it out. Felwinter sighed, "Look, I need you to relax or you'll make things worse. I'm not-"

Now his friend was staring at him. "I know you….I...you're…." A beat passed and suddenly her now free, bloody hand flew towards her belt for the dagger tucked away.

"ZUN." The force of the Shout made everyone around him flinch backwards and sent the dagger in hand flying away into the grass behind them. "You do not have time for this. Your friend is going to die if I don't do this quickly, do you understand me?" He snapped, any patience for bedside manners long gone, "I am not going to hurt you and I am not going to report you to anyone. Not to the guards, not to the Jarl and not to the Legion. So you will sit there, be quiet and let me work. Danica, you have bandages right?"

"Of course." She had quickly recovered from the effect of being so close to the Shout.

"I'm going to drain the wound and then repair the worst of the internal damage. The man's clothing and the chainmail of his armor had already been discarded. Felwinter would need blood for this. The two soldiers, both weary enough to look older than they actually were, kept their eyes on him, following every single movement. He couldn't risk a knife or a dagger without one or both of them panicking so he brought his up to his mouth. Felwinter closed his eyes as that was where the transformation always started. He suppressed as much of the transformation as he could and just allowed his teeth to grow out slightly and sharpen.

He pressed his hands together, drawing power from his own blood before placing his hands over the wound and let his magic flow unfettered into the man's abdomen.

The other soldier kept her eyes on him. "You know we're Stormcloaks."

"Truly? And here I thought you were really light-skinned Redguard Corsairs."

"Why are you helping us, Dragonborn?" She asked, "We know who you stand with."

"I stand with myself." The spell was pulling more from him than he had anticipated. Even in the cold night air, he was beginning to sweat. "External allegiances only last for as long as they remain useful." He took away one hand to wipe sweat from his eye. "I'm helping you because I do as I please, regardless of what the Legion thinks."

"It makes no sense." The light from Felwinter's magic shone softly upon her face, stark against the night. Dedicating your very life to a cause and watching as it is torn down little by little into nothing could break even the strongest person.

To be face to face with the man doing it?

"There. Start the binding." Felwinter released the spell. To his credit, his shoulders hand only just started to shake. He sat back and let Danica move in, following her orders to help lift the Stormcloak and anything else she needed to do her job.

Finally, the Nord woman tore her eyes away from Felwinter to look down at the man before her and take him into her arms again. "He will live?"

"He will. But his fighting days are over."

"I told you he would help," Danica softly told the pair as she started another layer gauze around the man's chest. "Where will you go from here? You can't stay in Whiterun."

"You'd also do well to avoid Eastmarch," Felwinter advised.

"We'll...we'll find somewhere." She took the man's hand and squeezed it with a smile. Only now, without the distraction of a dying man before him could he see what was between them. She hooked her lover's arm around her shoulders and helped him upright. "We have a horse nearby."

The man suddenly stiffened and the both of them stopped. He reached out towards Felwinter with his free arm and after a few seconds, Felwinter took it in his own, clasping his forearm. "Thank you," he told him, his voice barely rising above a strained whisper. His hand squeezed Felwinter's arm even tighter. "Thank you."

"I…" Felwinter swallowed, at a loss for words. "Of course. Don't mention it."

His partner turned them around more, "If there's anyway we can ever repay you..."

"Don't report me to Tullius?"

Both smiled. The man even managed a laugh. "We won't," she said, "We promise."

"You know, when I promised them you would help, it had slipped my mind that you were with the Legion." Danica broke the silence. The streets were practically empty, except for the roaming night guards. They mostly kept to the city meaning the Stormcloak pair should have little trouble escaping Whiterun without notice.

"You really thought I'd turn them in?"

She huffed out a short laugh. "I have to admit, the thought crossed my mind." They reached the temple and Felwinter held the door open for her. "But you've really gone above and beyond today. We can't thank you enough."

Moth was there, waiting for him as promised. He stood when the two entered, strapping Samuel's bow onto his uninjured shoulder. "This problem taken care of, I take it?"

"No 'welcome back'?"

Moth shoved the flask into his chest. "It needs a refill." He looked past Felwinter to Danica, who was starting to snuff out the candles. "Do you still need this one?"

She laughed again. "No, Thane Moth. He's all yours. Kynareth bless you both. Have a good night." She stopped next to Farkas. "I guess this one can stay here till the-"

"Oh for the love of….Farkas, I'm taking the last sweetroll!"

The big brute of Nord jerked violently, his eyes blown all the way open. He rolled off of the temple bed and landed hard on the stone tiles with a dull thud followed by seconds of silence and then a loud groan.

"Fel, why didn't you do that earlier?"

"It wouldn't have been nearly as funny." Felwinter squat down, took hold of one of Farkas' arms and pulled the warrior over his shoulder. "Come on, you big idiot."

Farkas groaned again.

"Oh, shut up."

Moth nodded to Danica and closed the temple doors after they had exit. Through them, she could hear a third groan, louder this time and most likely right in Felwinter's ear followed by two voices arguing over whether or not they should just dump the man in the nearest bush and be done with him till morning. At that, Danica had to smile. She shook her head and with a wave of her delicate hand, put out the last light.