Author's Note: That last chapter was a bit of an information dump, but I hope I included enough character interaction and development that y'all are satisfied with it.
Chapter 18: Cracks in a Silvered Moon
Harry barely arrived at Whiterun by dusk.
Battered, bruised, his armor not quite in tatters but obviously damaged, and with a grumpy look that bordered on murder the gate guards took a stunned moment of hesitation to let him back into the city.
He was met in the Wind District by Farengar and Ria both, apparently news of his return had reached Dragonsreach and Jorrvaskr before he had even reached the Gildergreen Sapling.
"Harald/Harry!" They cried out.
"What in Oblivion happened to you, my boy?" Farengar questioned immediately.
"Bandits, draugr, a werewolf, more bandits, and the embodiment of the Lord of the Hunt, you know. The usual," Harry bit out his frustrated summary of events to the shock of his adoptive father and his...girlfriend? Paramour? That was a relationship that while simple in execution was frustrating to define.
"Ah...we better go sit down somewhere, my study perhaps?" Farengar finally responded.
"That sounds wonderful. I would also like some food and eventually a bath," Harry griped and then frowned and took a deep breath, "I apologize, Farengar, Ria, I have not had the best trip and I should not lash out at you both,".
Ria lightly slapped his shoulder, "Good, you caught that before I had to give you a thrashing for it!"
Harry was able to, over the next few hours, brief Farengar and Ria on the events of the past few days. They had expected Harry back the prior day and had apparently begun to worry.
"A Spellsword from Craglorn, eh? And a Redguard, an interesting ally to have, no doubt," Farengar commented at that portion of Harry's story.
The mage was a mix of concerned, cautious, and exhilarated at the idea of analyzing Daedric artifacts, it was an opportunity few mages ever got, but also a dangerous one.
The Dragonstone however still was going to catch his primary attention moving forward, he knew exactly what he needed to do with that object.
Harry did eventually get his hot bath that night, and over the next two days out of exhaustion and general grouchiness he pushed off the normal small feast a returning quester would have at Jorrvaskr.
They truly did take any excuse to drink and fight. And he did make his way over on the second night.
The rowdiness reminded Harry of what the Gryffindor common room must have been like when it was first built in the Middle Ages.
Until of course he told the tale of his quest.
Kodlak and his entire inner circle: Aela, Skjor, and the brothers went deadly silent when he described the werewolf attack.
And Harry certainly caught on.
"The ring," Kodlak began after Harry finished his tale, "I believe we could safeguard it for you,".
Harry's suspicions were through the roof but also, he thought to himself, had not the Companions earned his trust? Had Farkas and Vilkas not taught him to fight? Aela taught him the bow? Kodlak had even fought in defense of his past deeds in front of the jarls of three holds!
Without the added curse the ring really should not be any use or danger unless they were already-oh, Harry thought as realization dawned, oh. Somebody in this room with him was a werewolf, and everything in Kodlad's inner circle knew about it.
Abruptly Harry stood from where he had been sitting for the final portion of the meal.
"Apologies, Harbinger, but I must speak with you, alone," he mustered as much sternness to his voice as he could and the old warrior looked older than Harry had ever seen him as he sighed and nodded and stood to lead Harry down underneath the hall to his quarters.
They sat at the small side table outside the door to the Harbinger's quarters not five minutes later.
Both men had their hands folded and looked at each other intently, Kodlak's eyes holding a small amount of shame, knowing some part of his and the Companion's situation was discovered.
"So who is it?" Harry questioned grimly, "Which one of you and can they control it?"
"All of us, young Harald. All of us. For most of the last two eras," Harry was floored by the answer, he had not been expecting that at all.
"I-what? How? Why?"
"A past Harbinger loved the thrill of the hunt just a little too much I suppose, he made a deal with a Hagraven coven, the Glenmoril Witches, to use their Daedric magicks to connect with the Lord of the Hunt and give us this...well as I have aged I now believe it to be a curse, but it causes all who accept it to gain the power, almost entirely controlled as well, and to go to his Hunting Grounds upon death instead of Sovngarde,".
The younger man rubbed his face with his hands in frustration and to cover his eyes from showing off his subtle feeling of betrayal.
This information was a lot for Harry to take in.
"And you can really control it?"
With a nod Kodlak stood up and moved to the center of the room. Gritting his teeth he began to shift and change and suddenly a large hulking werewolf was standing before Harry.
He stood up abruptly in response and surprise and knocked his chair over.
"What in Obli-Kodlak a little warning!"
"Apologies," A gruff and deep voice growled out from the beast, and suddenly it was shrinking again, until a worn Kodlak was bracing himself against the floor with his hands, breathing heavily.
"The transformation takes more and more toll on my body as the years go on, and furthermore I...Harald...Harry...I do not wish to go to the Hunting Grounds...I wish to be with my ancestors in Sovngarde. I am searching for a way to fix this, Harald. And perhaps those artifacts could be the key!"
The old man was almost pleading and Harry felt shame and regret and concern and a thousand different emotions rise up within him.
"If...if I left them with you you could only give them to someone you absolutely trusted to not use them selfishly. They stay with you or someone that will be responsible, not Skjor or Aela, or I take them out into the Sea of Ghosts and throw them overboard!"
The elderly warrior nodded and slowly returned to his feet.
"I understand, Harry. Thank you, the Hide in particular, it may help me in my task, its original wearer supposedly escaped the Hunting Grounds!"
Harry nodded, "And that is the only reason I support this idea, if you find the solution...send for me at the College alright? I'll be here,".
Kodlak pulled him into a familial hug, and Harry after a moment's pause returned it.
Harry left the artifacts with Kodlak and as he was leaving Jorrvaskr immediately after Ria approached him.
"Harry, what was all that about? Is the Harbinger alright? What happened?"
He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside and up the hill to the Skyforge.
"Did. You. Know?" He almost growled the question.
Her eyes shone with confusion, "Know what? Harry you're not making a lot of sense right now,".
Harry slammed his eyes shut and forced a few deep and calming breaths, meditation and focus exercises with Farengar had done wonders for his temper over the past year, but Harry felt it trying to break free feeding upon the flames of the perceived betrayal by those he trusted.
A loud thrumming went through his mind, striking straight to his soul with great Force.
He crushed that feeling with a vengeance and cleared his mind back out, opening his eyes to look at Ria.
"I...I'm sorry, the last few days have been a lot, Ria. I'm sorry I did not trust you, even if it was for only a moment. The...Companions...Ria, do you want to go to Sovngarde?"
The question threw Ria off balance, "Of course I do! I wish to feast with the heroes and test my mettle against them all until the end of days!"
"Then you cannot accept if you are ever offered a position in the Inner Circle," Harry firmly told her, "Not until I have helped Kodlak fix...everything,".
Harry did not feel it was his secret to give away in its entirety, but Ria deserved the warning as well.
"I-why?"
Harry's eyes pleaded with her, "Please, Ria, just trust me on this,".
She frowned, but seeing how serious he looked she nodded, and then leaned in and kissed him.
He grabbed her around the waist and deepened the kiss, with a passion born of fear and confusion.
Above them thin and wispy clouds criss-crossed the twin moons. Like cracks on a polished dinner plate.