Chapter 37 – In World-Eater's shadow

Falaere

Afternoon of 22nd Hearth Fire, Whiterun Plains

The wagon shook wildly as its wooden wheels rolled over the rough cobbled road.

The locals didn't bother with maintaining the roads beyond the city limits so one couldn't possibly expect a comfortable ride. Yet this ride was a lot bumpier than I expected... and the pace at which the horse trotted only exacerbated our discomfort. With the way the carriage kept bouncing up and down it was literally impossible for me to fall asleep to make the journey pass quicker. And at times, I had a feeling my stomach was doing backflips inside my body.

Good thing I didn't eat much before setting out, otherwise I might've thrown up...

My current company seemed to cope better than me though not much, admittedly.

Farlas (or should I call him 'the Dragonborn') was conversing with Lydia the housecarl, no doubt to try and distract himself from the effects of the unbelievably shaky ride. Not even legendary heroes were immune to the motion sickness, it seemed.

"So you're saying that Balgruuf had been sitting on the sidelines ever since the war broke out?"

"Well, he's been doing his best to keep his hold out of the war but no one knows how long it could last. Not a month passes by when he doesn't receive a letter either from Tullius or Ulfric. One day time will come to choose a side... and Balgruuf fears that."

"Why? The way you make it sound, it's inevitable. Why the hesitation?"

"Because my Uncle trusts neither the Stormcloaks nor the Empire." Lydia explained. "You probably know already that he and my father both fought in the Great war and hate the Thalmor just as much as the Stormcloaks do. And," She lowered her voice. "just between the two of us, they loathe the Emperor for bending their back to the Thalmor despite winning the last battle... Balgruuf himself has issues with the Emperor, the man who 'sold out his allies to save his own skin,' as he put it. But unlike the Stormcloaks, they realize that the Empire is now the only force that can keep the Dominion at bay, despite its current state."

"And the Stormcloaks?"

"Well, that's where things get a little... personal."

Farlas furrowed his brows. "What do you mean by that?"

"From what I've heard, Balgruuf and Ulfric Stormcloak had a rivalry when they were younger. They were never the greatest of friends but the events after the Great war drove a wedge between them. Before the civil war broke out the two were as good as estranged... and when Ulfric murdered the High King, Balgruuf began to openly despise him."

"Because he betrayed the Empire? Didn't you just say that Balgruuf-"

"That's not the point. Uncle thinks all of Ulfric's claims about 'fighting for Skyrim and its people' and 'defending them from the Empire's tyranny' is nothing but a farce and he's not shy about saying it aloud. Ulfric is but a ruthless savage who craves power and will do anything to gain it... or so he thinks."

"I see... But what of the Stormcloaks' ideas? What does he think about that?"

"That Ulfric will promise anything to get people on his side." Lydia answered bluntly. "Simple folk believe in Ulfric's supposed ideals, about bringing back Talos and giving the Nords back their strength and dignity, I mean. They don't seem to realize that their illustrious leader might be a fake all along."

"And what do you think, Lydia?"

It seemed that he caught her off guard with that question. The housecarl took a couple moments to ponder her answer.

"I never really thought about it, to be honest. In my city guard days I was simply ready to fight anyone who dared attack my home. I guess I can put it this way: I don't feel comfortable knowing the Empire that I'm supposed to be loyal to is nothing but a lackey to the Dominion... and I'd join the Stormcloaks in a heartbeat if it meant booting the Thalmor off of Tamriel for good. But I know the Stormcloaks aren't saints, either. I mean, have you heard about Windhelm-"

At that point I just tuned out their conversation entirely.

Politics was one of the thing I tended to avoid entirely; I could hardly contribute to their conversation in any way. Instead I sat back and let my mind wander as I watched the landscape slowly moving along.

Gods knew how far we were from our destination...

I remembered our carriage driver mentioning it was a two days journey to Solitude, with an overnight stop in Rorikstead, wherever that was. Skyrim was still pretty much an unknown territory to me. Still, we were a good couple hours on the road, way past noon... and when I turned around to the east I still could see the faint outlines of the Dragonsreach palace.

We were most likely not even half-way to Rorikstead.

The road had twisted along a great rocky ridge that stretched out for miles, enclosing the Whiterun plains in a long, relatively narrow strip of grassy land. The forests of Falkreath were just across the mountains. A shame the road didn't go through there... I found the plains to be horribly empty compared to the woods booming with wildlife; here, animals seemed to be only few and far between.

Not to be completely unreasonable, the vast plains with an enormous wall of jagged mountains beyond was an impressive scenery for sure... but it wasn't home.

I'd been out of Valenwood for over twenty years... and I wouldn't come back for a long time. Not within this century, at least. There was nothing left for me there, all thanks to the Thalmor, the self-proclaimed 'only true Mer' whose arrogance and cruelty had no boundaries.

The same 'people' whose embassy we were- I were about to invade.

I spent years running away from those bastards... and here I was, readying myself to step right into the nest of adders.

What in Y'ffre's name was I thinking?

The Thalmor were just as cruel as they were paranoid; seeing potential enemies at every step (which also happened to be very true, ironically enough) they always went to great lengths to secure even their most remote outposts. Ridiculous number of guards, intricate locks, even traps, everything to keep intruders out. Even small listening posts were difficult to get into... now imagine the gods-damned Embassy.

That wasn't a challenge, it was a folly. Even the best thief couldn't get in and out... not alive, anyway. With so many obstacles in the way to the 'treasure' (whatever it was) one was simply bound to get caught. Then... well, you'd be lucky to see the light of day.

I had no intentions of letting those bastards drag me into one of their dungeons. But...

Delphine's plan was my only way inside and as a former Blade, she must've made sure the whole scheme went off as smoothly as possible. Still, I couldn't help it but think the odds were heavily stacked against us... against me. Delphine knew well that getting me inside would be a tall order, and as she herself put it: 'they can teach me a few things about paranoia.' But surviving inside was a whole another issue. If I made even a single mistake, I'd spend the rest of my life in a dungeon; a short, miserable and bleak existence indeed.

And even that would be a walk in a park compared to what would happen if somehow someone recognized my face...

I knew the prospects were very unlikely since not many in the Dominion were aware of my continued existence yet the mere possibility scared the living daylights out of me. A part of me still wanted to drop everything and run somewhere far away; this whole 'Dragonborn' business was Farlas' business, not mine.

Alas, the sad truth was that it was too late to run.

Ever since I touched the Word wall down in the Shroud Hearth barrow I was in too deep.

It took me a while to realize the connection between that incident in the crypt and the sudden surge of dreams... or nightmares, to be precise. What began as a sort of collage of unrelated flashes and scenes soon developed into glimpses of the future with a terrifying clarity, as I experienced it the night before delving to Rannveig's tomb when I saw Farlas falling through a trapdoor before it actually happened.

And the visions didn't stop there. I've never told anyone but before meeting Delphine for the first time I dreamt of a fierce storm and a dragon skeleton growing its flesh back... the same way it happened at Kynesgrove. And now I kept seeing the same scene every night; Farlas chained down to a cold floor as gold-skinned figures circled around him beating him bloody until he collapsed... and then it turned into a vision of fire.

The entire world being lit aflame... and an enormous dark shape hovering above.

The gory scene from the dungeon was always preceded by the vision of the Dragonborn beinch chased down and finally caught by the soldiers in golden armor. I've had that dream multiple times and while sometimes it differed in the way his cover was blown, the end result was always the same: immediate capture and imprisonment. The dreams weren't clear on the matter but the torture scene from the dungeon strongly implied he didn't make it out. And what always followed was an armageddon, the entire world dying in flames.

There was only one explanation; if Dragonborn dies, the world will soon follow. And because my visions strongly implied he would never make it out of the Embassy... someone else had to step up.

Why does it have to be me, though?

Only Delphine could answer that question and she'd been at this game for a very long time. Bosmer were better suited for stealth work than most races (maybe except Khajiit); our people were also officially 'allies' to the Dominion, though the Aldmeri propaganda definitely obscured the truth. Despite the real state of things, some of our kind served in the Aldmeri army and it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to found a Bosmer stationed in a Thalmor outpost, even this far up north.

If I could somehow get my hands on the signature gilded armor I could very well pass off as a Dominion trooper. But that was assuming I would progress that far...

I could only hope that this 'Malborn' character was competent enough to smuggle the few 'key items' of my choice into the Embassy without 'misplacing' them along the way... or getting busted. A couple invisibility scrolls would be perfect, assuming I could obtain them somehow.

And 'obtaining' didn't exclude 'stealing'.

It wouldn't be my first clash with the law and while I wasn't really partial to thievery sometimes it took getting my hands dirty to survive. And right now, I wanted nothing else than that.

...So, Solitude is supposed to be a Hold capital; there's bound to be a shop for mages or something...

"... She's doing it again." Lydia's deadpan voice interrupted my chain of thought.

"What do you mean by that?" Farlas questioned.

"Brooding."

"I'm trying to think of ways to survive the harrowing experience in the Embassy, housecarl." I didn't mean to sound so mocking when I used Lydia's title; I was nervous and irritable though it was no excuse. She passed it over without comments, however; perhaps she got used to the two of us not exactly seeing eye to eye.

"We'll see once we speak with Delphine and Malborn." Farlas stated as he tried to make himself comfortable in the cart's hard wooden seat. "Who knows, maybe they've worked something out that improves your chances."

"I better hope so, Dragonborn." I sighed, making Farlas wince. "I better hope so."

Time passed almost agonizingly slow on the road. There wasn't much to do during the rocky ride other than watch the landscape moving slowly past our cart and disappearing beyond the horizon... and with the distracting thoughts of the upcoming mission I couldn't even engage in a proper conversation with my current company. The only upsides were no trouble on the road and a nice weather, for the cold northern Tamriel that is.

Alas, all the good things must end someday.

As if out of the blue, thick dark clouds rolled in and obscured the sun. Within less than half an hour a dark shadow was cast upon the land and we could even hear a low rumble in the distance.

"A thunderstorm," Bjorlam the carriage driver muttered to himself. "Hope you got some cloaks on you."

"This happened way too quickly," Lydia whispered with a suspicious scowl. "Just a while ago, there was scarcely a cloud in the sky."

Lydia had a point, now that I thought about it. Thunderstorms did have the unpleasant quality of coming in when least expected... but this was just way too sudden. Just like that on time in Kynesgrove when-

I felt a chill run down my back when the realization hit me.

"This feels just like Kynesgrove..."

Farlas and Lydia both understood my message.

"Bjorlam!" The Dragonborn called out to the carriage driver. "Where are we right now?"

"We passed a crossing with a road to Markarth, just a while ago." Bjorlam's answer was muffled as he was pulling his own rain cloak over his head. "Rorikstead should be another two or three hours away from here."

"Do you know of any burial mounds around here?"

Bjorlam paused at Farlas' question. "Why the heck would you ask that?"

"Just curious," He shrugged, openly avoiding mentioning a dragon. "There seems to be a lot of old Nordic architecture scattered across this land."

"So a scholar, huh?" The driver mused. "I don't care much for dusty old ruins but I did notice some standing stones on my travels in the area; just near that crossroad I talked about earlier."

Shit...

If whatever the man talked about really was a dragon mound then we didn't have much time.

Farlas stood up and walked over to Bjorlam's seat. "I need you to listen to me very carefully now," He said to the driver who appeared more than just a little puzzled at the moment. "What is about to happen is gonna be very dangerous and I don't want you to get caught up in it. So I need you to find some hiding place while we get out and deal with whatever is coming; do not come out until we tell you and do not lose the carriage and the horses! Do you understand?"

"Oh, now you're just pulling my leg-"

"I said: do you understand?" Farlas reiterated the question forcefully... and I swore I could feel the ground shake. Very subtly, but the tremor was there.

Bjorlam gulped and nodded, suddenly losing the need to argue.

The dark clouds had obscured the entire sky as far as an eye could see.

The three of us jumped off the carriage and jogged back to the crossroads, keeping our eyes on the darkened sky. As soon as we took off, the carriage clattered away as Bjorlam headed to Rorikstead, not sparing the horses.

"Think he'll come back?" I asked.

"Even if he didn't, it's better than putting him in a situation that could easily get him killed with no good reason." Lydia surmised. "I'm just wondering why he believed us so readily; I expected him to call us a bunch of loons, instead."

"Perhaps I'm just really that persuasive," Farlas joked though I could tell his attempt at humor was half-hearted.

Not a good time for jests when a dragon- no, the dragon was about to make its appearance.

The so-called World-Eater... I heard Farlas himself mention the name during one of his talks with Lydia when they both thought I was asleep. I didn't know for sure where the name came from yet I felt the connection to the apocalyptic visions haunting my dreams lately.

Despite the dark clouds rolling about menacingly above us, the air was eerily silent. There was not a living soul within hundreds of paces around us; everything looked and felt, well... dead. As if nature herself dreaded what was about to happen.

A while later we made it to the place Bjorlam described. Indeed it was a circle of standing stones around a large mound; some of those laid half-buried in the ground, beaten by the relentless assault of time itself.

"Is this the place?" I questioned as I took in the mound. Excluding the standing stones, the similarities between this mound and the one above Kynesgrove were uncanny.

"There's no other place like this nearby." Lydia gave a grim nod. "We should look for a hiding spot before the black beast itself makes its appearance."

As if on cue, a roar echoed somewhere in the distance.

"We're out of time!" The Dragonborn barked out. "Quick, we can't let the dragon catch us out in the open!"

Easier said than done since we were smack in the middle of a plain; nothing but grass, small shrubs and occasional trees nearby. Then my gaze fell on a rocky plateau overlooking the dragon mound... more precisely the overhanging cliff on its one side. There was a small opening in the rock face partially hidden by bushes.

The roar sounded again, much closer this time.

"There, look!" I cried out pointing at the hollow in the cliff.

"Perfect! Let's go!" The three of us couldn't get any faster in the cover. The shrubbery surrounding the hole in the cliff kept us from view and we could see the dragon mound quite clearly.

A strange yet very welcome stroke of luck.

"Ready your weapons," Farlas whispered, pulling his short-sword halfway out of sheath. "Keep quiet and don't attack until I give the word; we don't stand a chance against the black bastard himself."

Maybe a bit of useless advice since we all knew the black dragon was virtually invincible; we already knew better than try and bring it down. Nevertheless, I didn't say anything to point that out; instead I prepared my bow and waited.

… and we didn't have to wait long.

A bloodcurdling roar of a dragon came from right above us, accompanied by the unmistakeable beating of wings. The World-Eater made its appearance and began circling above the burial mound. Needless to say it wasn't the first time I saw the winged black monster... yet even this time, its razor sharp teeth, thorny black scales that didn't seem to reflect the sunlight and glowing fiery red eyes left me deeply unsettled.

A true terror of the skies, in the flesh...

The World-Eater kept flying circles around the dragon mound, rumbling something in that guttural language all dragons seemed to speak. The ground seemed to tremble every time it passed above our hiding spot. I didn't know whether it was aware of our presence or not yet I recalled it found us easily the last time...

And just like the last time, it began hovering above the mound, beating its enormous wings to keep itself in place.

"Vuljotnaak! Ziil gro dovah ulse!"

"Vuljotnaak..." Farlas whispered, his gaze fixed on the black beast. "Name of the dragon it's about to raise from the dead."

It seemed the Dragonborn was getting better at deciphering the dragon tongue... not that it was any use in our current predicament.

The World-Eater took a breath and opened its massive jaws.

"Slen Tiid Vo!"

As soon as the energy of the Thu'um connected with the mound, a pillar of light shot to the skies. The moment it reached the dark clouds it began raining so heavily that anything beyond a couple hundred paces became obscured by a thick mist.

I've watched this happen before... yet knowing this exact chain of events didn't make this experience any less terrifying.

Making one more wide circle, the beast paused once more to float above the mound and let out another bellowing, blood-chilling roar.

"Slen Tiid Vo!"

The soil seemed to explode where the Thu'um hit. Dirt was suddenly flying everywhere around. Moments later, something crawled out of the ruined mound; a dragon skeleton, except it was growing its flesh back as the familiar yellowish aura began flowing back to its rapidly re-composing body.

As the flesh grew back I got a view of the resurrected dragon's former appearance; olive brown scales, fin on its back instead of usual spikes, tail ending with a leaf-like formation and horns on its head connected with a thin leathery membrane, forming a sort-of collar.

My grip on the bow tightened.

"Wait," Farlas cautioned.

"Alduin Thuri!" A cry from the once-again living dragon shook the earth.

And then a conversation ensued between 'Vuljotnaak' and its master that I found difficult to follow. Farlas seemed to understand some of it, however... and judging by his deep scowl and set jaw, it couldn't have been anything good.

Then the World-Eater took to the skies and flew away, having accomplished its goal.

Just how many dragon mounds were in Skyrim? How many dragons this black monster already brought back to life? And how many more would follow?

The answers could wait. Vuljotnaak was stretching its wings, preparing to take off... and we couldn't have that.

I nocked an arrow and took aim straight at the dragon's eye. Farlas watched me prepare a shot... and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

No better signal to attack...

I loosed off the arrow and watched it fly, hoping the damn monster wouldn't move in the last possible moment.

Which it didn't thankfully... and the projectile lodged itself right in the dragon's eyesocket.

It shrieked on both pain and rage, clawing at its wounded eye with the 'thumb' of its wing in a vain attempt to take the arrow out.

"Quick, while it's distracted!" Farlas hissed and jumped out of the cover, rushing the injured beast with his sword bared. Lydia followed closely, sword in one hand, shield in the other. Keeping my distance I unleashed arrow after arrow, scoring couple more direct hits before the dragon finally turned towards us.

Even at the distance I could feel its furious one-eyed glare bore through my body. If looks could kill I'd be dead thousand times over.

Lydia and Farlas closed in and began hacking away at the head and the neck.

Vuljotnaak had no intentions of being slain so soon after being brought back to life, though.

Its enormous head snapped forwards as it tried to close its jaws around Lydia. The housecarl put her shield up in time but the blow knocked her backwards. Farlas tried ramming his blade into the dragon's remaining eye but he missed, the steel rebounding off of its scaly hide. In the next moment he was sent to the ground by one of its wings.

It could've finished both of them right there yet for some inexplicable reason it decided to take off. A few might flaps of its wings carried its considerable weight to the air and away from us... but not before Lydia managed to tear a huge gash in the membrane of its right wing.

Vuljotnaak swayed unsteadily in mid-air, fighting to remain airborne. As it rapidly gained altitude I was starting to think it was making its escape... though I was proven wrong when it made a sharp turn, or tried to at least. It proved impossible to execute such maneuver with a damaged wing; almost immediately it entered a nosedive and only barely kept itself from crashing snout-first into dirt.

Despite the near-crash, it refused to leave the battle, heading straight for us.

The sight of the approaching beast truly was something out of a nightmare. I could understand how it would send everyone running for their lives; heck, even I was for a brief moment tempted to turn around and flee. Yet judging by the small yet visible smirk on his face, it seemed this was exactly what Farlas was waiting for.

"It's coming in fast!" Lydia exclaimed, alarmed and somewhat nervous.

"Exactly, Lydia. Now," Farlas leveled a glare at the incoming dragon. "Let's see that bozo over there dodge this!"

What is he planning?

I got my answer within the next moment when a bellowing roar of "Fus Ro Dah!" shook the earth and almost blew out my eardrums.

Vuljotnaak was no fool and saw clearly what the Dragonborn planned to do. Unfortunately for him, maneuvering was difficult with a holed wing... and he realized it was too late as he made a move to dodge the wave of Unrelenting Force.

Too slow... and too late.

The Thu'um slammed into its body with the force of a battering ram. The dragon instantly began losing the little altitude it had and flapped its massive wings in a vain effort to keep itself in the air.

We were forced to crouch down as it went tumbling only a couple paces above us, lest we'd be crushed.

The impact kicked up a huge thick could of dust that obscured our vision. I could barely see anything within a couple paces... but I could her the unmistakeable grinding noise of a huge reptilian body skidding across the ground and leaving a deep trench in its wake.

And just as suddenly, the noise ceased and all we could hear were the dragon's harsh breathing and pained grunts.

A couple moments later the dust finally settled and we saw the enormous beast fighting to stand up. Its left wing seemed strangely misshapen... and at the second glance I recognized a 'joint' where there shouldn't be any; a tell-tale sign of a broken bone.

Well, at least we didn't have to worry about the damn thing taking off again. Alas, I made the mistake of assuming the fight was already over.

Putting my bow away, I approached the downed monster, summoning ice spells to my hands. Every dragon I fought until now breathed fire... so I thought this one wouldn't be any different.

Farlas warned against going too close but I, being convinced the dragon was done for, didn't listen... and I got taught a swift lesson.

Despite its injuries, the dragon suddenly twisted its body and swung its tail with unprecedented swiftness. Before I knew it I landed on my back and my legs felt like they were completely shattered. I hit the back of my head so hard I saw stars; stunned by the impact I never noticed the dragon turning its head towards me and opening its jaws.

"Fo Krah Diin!"

The ice-cold air that slammed into me knocked the breath out of my lungs and I felt like I was dipped into freezing water. The sensation only lasted a couple moments; at first I thought I truly died. Then my vision cleared up again and I saw Farlas standing over me blocking the assault of blistering cold with the strongest ward he could muster.

Vuljotnaak seemed to stare in disbelief when he realized his Thu'um had barely touched its prey.

Farlas smiled; it was an ugly, vengeful smirk that promised worst pain imaginable. "Okay, my turn." Inhaling sharply, he shouted a single word.

"Yol!"

A torrent of blazing flames spewed out of his mouth and hit his opponent straight in the face. I had seen the Dragonborn use Frost breath before... but this, this was new.

Where did he learn this?

As the dragon shrieked and thrashed around when its hide was set aflame Farlas and Lydia made their move. I couldn't get away from there as I was sure the damn thing actually managed to break a couple bones when it hit me with its tail so all I cold do was watch things unfold before me.

Being attacked from both sides, having one wing broken and struggling to douse the flames, Vuljotnaak couldn't last long. Despite being in an obvious disadvantage it still put up a fierce fight. I saw Lydia only narrowly escaping the dragon's razor-sharp teeth several times and Farlas nearly getting crushed by its body after getting knocked down. Though in retaliation, the Dragonborn pummeled the beast with Unrelenting force, keeping it from using Thu'um on its own.

Surprisingly, while Farlas dealt his fair share of damage to the dragon it was Lydia who dealt the finishing blow, having rammed her blade into its skull through the temple.

The once fearsome monster went still with a deathly shudder and moments later its massive carcass ignited, dead flesh consumed by flames as the dragon's soul was devoured by Farlas.

The heavy downpour had waned by that time, reduced to a soft drizzle.

The Nords would usually describe it as an ultimate moment of victory and glory... but they only knew legends, they didn't see it with their own eyes. I did and I got the impression that merely absorbing a dragon's soul seemed about as arduos as slaying the dragon. The first time Farlas went through such experience he actually blacked out; over time he got better at handling the enormous strain of devouring a soul of a creature far bigger than himself but even now he needed a couple moments to recover.

When he did though he headed straight to me, not giving Vuljotnaak's skeleton a tiny sliver of attention.

"I told you not to get too close to that thing," The Dragonborn scolded. "Now look what you did to yourself!"

It finally occurred to me to take a look at my body to see the damage for myself.

The right leg took the brunt of the hit and I saw my foot twisted to the side in an unnatural angle. These were broken bones, alright... and just now I was starting to feel the pain. The left leg was spared of any visible damage except some bruises but that was hardly any comfort. None of us were proper healers so I wouldn't be walking on my own until me managed to get my dumb self to the temple.

I had no idea that Farlas wouldn't be content with that, though.

He knelt down by my injured limb and actually started palpating my injured limb below the knee. I shot him a very dirty look while doing my best to ignore the pain.

Lydia observed his actions with raised eyebrow. "So, a Companion, a Dragonborn... and now even a feldsher? You're full of surprises lately."

"Healing magic won't solve everything; sometimes medical knowledge is required... and I got some of that from my mother." Farlas explained as he kept feeling up my leg. "Before I can use any healing spells I need to find the fracture, get a picture of how serious it is otherwise otherwise the bones won't heal correctly; the last thing Fal needs is to become a cripple- ah, here it is!" My eyes nearly popped out of my skull as he managed to find the sorest place on my shin. The dull pain turned into an intense burning feeling like if my leg was being cut up. "I think I found the break; now I need to find out if it's clean or if there are bone fragments. If so, well... things are gonna get a lot more complicated."

"If I didn't know any better," I hissed through gritted teeth, my fingers digging into the soil. "I'd say you were trying to kill me!" The pain was starting to become unbearable and I felt the stinging of tears welling in my eyes.

"Well, if you'd bothered to listen when I told you to stay back, I wouldn't have had to be doing this." Farlas said dryly as he felt up the area around the break. "As far as I can tell it's a clean break, no fragments."

"That's good, I suppose." Lydia said uneasily.

"It's too early to celebrate. First we have to properly align the bones though, and since there are two bones in that area... I'm sorry Fal but this is gonna hurt."

Oh, I sure would've never realized if you hadn't told me, genius-

My chain of thoughts was interrupted when the bastard started moving my injured limb. Where there were some admittedly nasty names for the damnable Imperial now there was but a white-hot of searing pain.

The howl of pain that tore out of my throat was enough to scare off any animals that happened to wander nearby.

Things had started to become hazy. I could see Farlas and Lydia share an uneasy glance but, overwhelmed by pain I couldn't figure out what it was about. My thoughts drifted towards all the different ways of hurting the Dragonborn without any lasting consequences for what he was doing... and then I saw Lydia walking towards me, her steel-plate armor rattling like some kind of sinister omen.

"Sorry but this is for your own good."

Before I could ask what she meant by that her gauntleted fist shot lightning-quick towards my face.

And then... nothing at all.

When I finally woke up after hours of drifting in and out of consciousness I found myself lying on a bed lined with furs instead of hard cold ground. Moreover, I was definitely not outside, judging by the ceiling supported by large wooden beams above me.

This realization prompted me to sit up and take a look around.

Sure enough, I was inside a small room with a table, a couple chairs, a trunk and a couple goat horn sconces emmiting faint yellow light. The door to the room was left slightly ajar and the gap was filled with warm orange glow. Loud chatter and occasional laugh came from whatever was beyond the door.

This was most likely some kind of tavern, I surmised. My memories on how I got here were foggy; I had absolutely no idea what occurred between getting knocked out and waking up here... or even what preceded me losing consciousness.

The left side of my face felt strangely numb for some reason. On a hunch I touched my left cheek... and immediately felt a sizeable bruise throbbing with dull pain.

Almost instantly, memories came flooding back.

Underestimating a wounded yet still dangerous dragon which ended with me getting tail-whipped and my right leg snapped in half.

Farlas inspecting my injury and letting me suffer through agonizing pain.

And Lydia socking me right in the face which knocked me out cold instantly. That would explain the bruise.

My first thought was to go out there, find those two and exact well-deserved revenge on them. With that in mind I hopped off the bed and went to gather my things that were left on the other side of the room.

It was after a couple paces I stopped dead in my tracks.

My leg was broken yet there I was walking around like if nothing ever happened. Admittedly, the wounded limb still felt sore but that didn't diminish the realization. I didn't know if Farlas accomplished it himself or he had some help but my leg was fixed. True, I still felt rather peeved about Lydia punching my lights out; no matter what the reason was, it was completely uncalled for. While Farlas could be forgiven, the housecarl wouldn't be getting out of this that easily.

Another matter was how they got me in this place while I was still unconscious. They couldn't have carried me all the way here... but I reckoned I would be getting my answers soon.

Changing direction I headed straight out of the door... right into a large hall illuminated by a roaring fire in the middle.

A bar counter on the other side of the hall, shelves laden with all sorts of spirits, door leading to other rooms... This was a tavern, alright, and I saw what was likely a whole village gathered around the large firepit, talking, drinking and laughing. I recognized Bjorlam the carriage driver sitting among them. Perhaps he'd returned with his carriage after we killed the dragon? How else would I get here... wherever 'here' was.

The Dragonborn and the housecarl were nowhere to be found, though. The two of them were probably too worn out to join the festivities... or so I thought. After looking around a bit longer I found the two of them sitting at one of the tables placed along the walls. Like everyone around, not even they noticed me standing there.

At first I didn't know how to approach them; thanks to them I wasn't stuck with my leg in a splint (well, mostly thanks to Farlas) but on the other hand I was put through a world of pain for it. Not too difficult to imagine the conflict.

Then I had the insidious thought when I noticed Lydia nursing a tankard of mead, still over half-full. A smirk crept into my face; Farlas might've been off the hook for now... but Lydia definitely wasn't.

Very predictably, Lydia was surprised to see her tankard get snatched out of her hand before she could take another swig. Not even Farlas expected something like this to happen. Even better, at the time neither of them seemed to realize I was there.

"What the-" That was all the housecarl managed to say before I up-ended the contents of the tankard right on top of her head.

Lydia stiffened in her seat and let out a stifled gasp as the mead flowed down her head and her face, drenching the tunic she wore, her expression one of complete and utter shock.

Take that, you Nord cow!

She could consider herself lucky she wasn't wearing the armor at the moment; that would be a real pain to clean up.

As for Farlas, he stared at the scene with his mouth agape as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

Over the course of the next few moment the entire tavern went eerily silent. There was no way my stunt would go unnoticed.

I watched the expression on Lydia's face flicker from shock to disgust and finally – seething anger when she saw standing beside her and staring pointedly at her, as if challenging her to try anything.

"What the fuck was that for?!" The woman legitimately looked like she was about to murder me.

Instead of answering I showed her the nice big bruise on my face.

I saw her eyes widen every so slightly... and then she simply rose from the table and stormed away, muttering something about 'needing another bath.'

Farlas cleared his throat awkwardly, still stunned by the whole spectacle. "Nice to see you're getting better, at least."

"Spare me the pleasantries," I sniffed and sat down on the spot the housecarl had just vacated. "First off: where are we?"

"We're in Rorikstead, where else?" He replied. "There isn't any other settlement in this part of the hold."

So despite the battle with the dragon and my broken leg we somehow made it to Rorikstead, thus being about half-way to Solitude. A surprise but a pleasant one. "How did we make it here with no carriage?"

"We wouldn't... but Bjorlam, Gods bless the man, decided to turn back; we met on the road and he gave us a lift to Rorikstead." Farlas replied, confirming what I already suspected. "Now, that thing with Lydia- what was that about?"

He really had to go ask that, didn't he?

"She punched me in the face; something I'm pretty sure you had a hand in." I snapped back. "Believe you me, I was going easy on her." I could've done far worse... maybe set her boots on fire or something of the sorts.

By that time the patrons stopped paying attention to us... thankfully.

"Didn't I already explain that? Before I mend the bones I need to set them back into correct position... and you should already know it's incredibly painful. We didn't have anything to dull the pain and, well... knocking you out was the best thing I could think of."

That was some straight-forward, blunt honesty. "That doesn't make me feel any better about this."

Farlas scowled. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to be awake for what I had to do."

He then explained to me how he literally had to cut my leg open to see the broken bones before he could realign and heal them. He was thoughtful enough to spare me the grisliest details of the entire procedure; still, if I was hungry before now I had completely lost my appetite.

One thing stood out, though; if I understood correctly, Farlas had to concentrate the healing magic solely on the bones which no doubt must've been very exhausting as such feat required incredible level of concentration. No simple spellcaster could accomplish that and it made me wonder where the man got this kind of knowledge from. Either his mother was truly a talented healer, if his story was to be believed... or he was holding something back.

But that was none of my business.

"We'll still have to stop by the first temple we run into and get you checked up by a proper healer." Farlas spoke. "I've done what I could but I'm no professional."

He certainly did better than anyone else in his position but I wasn't about to say that. Wouldn't want him to get too big-headed, would we? "Whatever you say, doctor." I said. "Anything else you want me to know before I go back to bed?"

"Only that we'll setting out early tomorrow, at sunrise; better we make it to Solitude before nightfall."

I answered with a curt nod and headed back to my room. On my way back I passed Lydia who pointedly ignored my presence. Honestly, I couldn't care less; we weren't obligated to be friends just because we happened to be travelling together. True, my latest stunt might've made things worse.

But compared to what was looming on the horizon in the very near future, it almost seemed like a trivialty.

Author's note: Another dragon's dead... and goodness knows how many more to go. They just keep respawning (LOL).

I didn't manage to squeeze Saliyah's raid of Broken Helm hollow and Elaith's visit to Solitude into this chapter. Battle with Vuljotnaak took up a lot more space than I thought. Well, at least you'll know what comes in next chapter.

There's not enough in the recent reviews to do a full-on Q&A session so I'll just give a big thanks to everyone who reviewed in the last months, namely AshMountian216, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, JD98, silverhawk88, and the guests :-) BTW silverhawk88 if you read this: I heard of the M'rissi mod but I never had it installed. I don't really know what it's about (aside from adding a custom follower NPC into game plus some backstory and new quests) let alone how to add it to the story. Hope it won't put you off too much.

As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)