The winds are piercing but they are kind, no storm tonight. The flames of the torches stayed lit, albeit whimpering a little, but held strong. A few houses nearby stroke the night with a few faint wailings of newborn babe. No doubt, some inexperienced lads and lasses are in for quite a sleepless night.

Gathering my thoughts back, I focused on the old man rests on the pyre, with his hair brushed neatly and the cloth he wore is probably the cleanest the caretakers could get to. That blade and shield of his held close to his chest. His eyes were closed. Never understood why they pink up the cheeks before a funeral, makes him look almost alive, just asleep.

I am also not too sure why the old man's pyre has to be built on top of the Sky forge. Perhaps its their tradition? Eorlund Grey-Mane, the best blacksmith of Whiterun who usually manages the forge is still carefully adding one last log onto the pyre getting ready. He's old but have arms fitting of someone who swung hammer for most of his life. The face is as grim as the rest of us standing around, none of us were saying a word. No one dare to break the silence

The gentle rain kissed down, brought upon a chilling clarity. I stood amongst the grieving crowd, and it felt weird for a moment, everyone here, the companions, Jarl Balgruuf and his men and even some of the senior citizens of the city. Everyone had known Kodlak for years, fought with him, laughed and drank with him for years. But me, someone who met him just recently? I felt kind of out of place, regardless, I could feel everyone else's grief. And it felt right to stand beside my friends at this moment.

No one was crying, the nords don't believe in tears. We do right by our dead through blood and through steel. Live as a winter's fury and drink with a glory in death. Sovngarde is where we shall feast once more with the warriors of the past and the future.

No one has said a word for almost a good hour now, yet the grief is palpable.

Farkas was right, having the heads of Silverhand members on spikes wasn't as satisfying as anyone thought it would be. There was no one left to swung our blades to. We had already put a blade to anyone left moving in their camp after the fire burned through. We slain every last one of them in their headquarters to where there was only ash and blood stains left. Is it enough? Have we done enough in Kodlak's honor? It sure didn't feel that way. Vengeance never brings closure.

Eorlund was one to broke the silence, "Who will start?" every pairs of eyes fell on him and remaining leaders of the Companions: Aela, Farkas and Vilkas. Not because of their rank, though, everyone knew the three was practically raised in the Jorrvaskr, and they would have known Kodlak the longest. Their silence and fist clenched white speaks volumes.

Aela, was first to take one step forward, and her voice was a gain a bit raspier than her usual, "I'll do it. Before the ancient flame… We grieve."

"We grieve", "We grieve", "We grieve".

Eorlund took over from her, "At this loss… We weep."

"We weep", "We weep", "We weep."

The third one is Vilkas, still had his steel plate on, but you can tell he had some time to polish them for respect, "For the fallen… We shout."

"We shout", "We shout", "We shout"

His brother Farkas was the last one to step forward, "And for ourselves… We take our leave."

"We take our leave", "we take our leave", "We take our leave"

Drawing the brief ritual to a close, was Aela again, with a solemn gesture, she held the torch close to pyre, with it, the flames still took a few moments to catch with the rain but it took hold. The flames and smoke quickly surrounded Kodlak, who slept through all of this like in a slumber. Farewell, Harbinger, May your journey to the hall of valor be smooth and your Tankards are never emptied.

We stood a while longer before Aela said, "His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together"

Everyone was soon to pick up on the cue and offered their goodbyes and condolences. Angi stayed behind with them, I think she is a part of the 'circle' in Companion now but that only surprised me by a little, she had been rising through the ranks with them rather quickly. I am not surprised that she had also gotten the 'gift' of the beast's blood by now.

"Alvanna, do you have a second to indulge a grieving old man who just lost a dear friend?" Jarl Balgruuf caught my attention from behind me, upon a quick glance, I can tell that his recovery is quite well underway, fully standing on his own and even walking too. I could imagine that Irileth and Proventus must have given him grief about having to be on his feet quite this early, all the more respects for the old Jarl, no one would have said a thing if he didn't come, but he did.

"Of course," I reached an arm out, offering to give him some support. I was not about to watch the kindest ruler of Skyrim to fall down the millionth stairs towards Castle Dragonsreach.

"Put that away lass, I am old," He smiled, waving my arm away, "but not that old. We haven't talked in a while, how was your journey to high Hrothgar? I didn't see the mage coming back with you, you didn't…? did you?"

"It was… interesting. The greybeards were quite some characters." I hesitated a second as I didn't quite catch what he was implying right away, but it dawned on me quickly after, "Oh gods no, but I wouldn't be honest if I said I hadn't thought about it. She left to visit some of her old friends near the rift."

"Good, the Archmage's potions are why I have been recovering fast as I am, so I'd love to still preserve the chance to thank her in person at another time. But agh, the seven thousand steps of the climb, it made me think about when I made a similar journey up in my youth. Never did quite learn their way of the voice then, but Ulfric, Ulfric had quite a khack for it." The old man is lost in some of his memories, and I don't know if he realizes that he is smiling a bit when we speak of those times.

"Is that Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm?" Curiosity took hold of me.

"Yes, a time ago, before all of this, we were closer than brothers back then, fought alongside for many years to come."

"If you don't mind me prying," I asked, "if that's the case, why didn't you join Ulfric's rebellion then?"

"A complicated question," Balgruuf didn't seem to be bothered by my inquiry, instead he nodded approvingly, "before I answer, may I ask you this, my scouts said you were mostly targeting loose Thalmor Justicars and elven forces in your life at the Knifepoint Ridge, why didn't you join the Good fight with the Stormcloaks yourself, fight for the freedom of Nords and the liberty of Skyrim then?"

A similar question was asked of me by Ralof of Riverwood as we headed for the headsman's axe in Helgen, felt like ages ago, "pretty simple, my men would like to fight for the freedom of Nords and the liberty of Skyrim but do so with a full stomach. Everyone knows the Stormcloaks haven't even got enough Septims to pay for their own armors."

Balgruuf nodded, not showing much emotion beyond that,"a realistic reason and a fair assessment, Windhelm has lost a lot of merchant ship traffic since their rebellion and especially with the embargos through the East Empire Trading Company which has heavy imperial roots. "

"How do they hold on then? If they are truly in a bad shape."

"The major coin support they got were borrowed from the Blackbriar family and let's just say that Maeven is not one to devote her gold to a cause, she is in it to collect her debts. Hell, my sources say she's got her hand deep into the imperial camp as well, that old crone. And other than the Rift, none of the other supporters has that much gold to spare." Balgruff rested his hand on the railing and gazed the city down below, open, peaceful and full of life.

"But Whiterun could."

"Aye, Whiterun could." He shook his head with a smile, "but a war with the empire is not what my people seeks. I drank with my people and walked among them for years in disguises often and their wishes are simple and clear. People wish for peace and for a life away from bloodshed, we had already lost so many in the great war, when is enough?"

I didn't have anything to refute him with as I understood him deeply, and it is like I always believed, a good Jarl is one that listens to their people. Jarl Balgruuf has done exactly that. If I have some reservation, it would be that it is often difficult to maintain peace in a time that is as turmoiled as this.

Balgruuf continued, "Besides, in this war, had I fought and drank with the Jarls and soldiers on Ulfric's side, yes, and had I done the same with the imperial Legions and their officers, also yes. If I owe allegiance to my friends and old comrades, then whose side should I be on?"

"I see" I agreed with him, "that is not an easy decision."

"So if you ask me, I'm on the side of Whiterun. The day might come when I am forced to draw my sword for one side or the other. But that day has not come yet." Balgruuf shook his head, "sometimes, the idealist in me wishes there's a way for people to put down their hate toward one another and stop fighting their own kin, that would be nice."

"Yeah, but Neither Ulfric nor Elisef would easily give up their claim to the throne of Skyrim."

"That is true, I have never seen Ulfric give up on anything, a bit of a stubborn old bear that one like his old man. Don't know much about Elisef personally, but I know Tulius, he's not going to let go, especially since he almost had Ulfric's head on a platter now had it not been for the dragon. As you can see, this puts me and many other Jarls who have friends on both sides in a really tough position to choose, show me one nord who hasn't got friends or family on either side of this damned civil war." Balgruuf looked at me and shrugged, a bit comical coming from an old man, "There is one solution though, a rather easy one."

"An easy one?" I was confused, how could any of that be easy.

"We give them a third option, someone better than Ulfric, Better than Elisef, for the Empire and for the Nords." Balgruuf didn't seem like he is joking one bit, instead he turned to me. Oh please, not this again. I could feel a small migraine creeping up already.

"Who might that be?" I am still not sure what he could mean by that, but I got a pretty good feeling it may have something to do with what we talked about before I set off for the mountains.

"A daughter of Skyrim, and a child of Akatosh, the last Dragonborn at the changing of times." Balgruuf slowly said, "You don't need to deny it, these are just a part of who you are born to be, but the people of Skyrim won't bow to a king or a queen based on birthright, we got none of that imperial nonsense. And granted, you may still have a lot to learn on the way, but just know that you have the potential for so much more."

"This is all very well and good, but what is the plan here Balgruuf, am I to walk up to Solitude and Windhelm and claim the title of the High Queen and then they will just be expected to swear fealty and that's that?" I find this topic absurd, out of ordinary and even a bit amusing.

"I don't expect them to be, but if the Moot is called, they each would only get one vote like the rest of us and if we can secure support from another few holds then it will be entirely possible."

"The Moot?"

"When the High King dies, the Jarls of Skyrim convene a Moot to elect a new High King, which was what's supposed to happen when there's no direct heir to the throne, as in the case of the tragic death of King Torygg, a few of us demanded it, but Ulfric would not listen. Instead he thought to seal his claim on the field of battle, something that has been avoided for centuries in Skyrim"

"So there is a way to end the war early, but Ulfric refuses to partake since it might not end with him on the throne?" I raised my eyebrows, "How come no one else spoke up against him."

"Power? Influence? Ulfric has made it a war that's based on the belief of the people and there's something truly dangerous about an army motivated by belief. I just hope we can keep the peace in Skyrim, and not have to fight another war when our country is still recovering from the last." Balgruuf said, "It is still very early to even suggest it, we are going to have the moot for starters and then get the support from other Jarls, all in due time I would say. Right now, it is just an unrealistic dream I have. But know this, Alvanna, Whiterun is your home now and from me to every people here believe in you, we will support you and follow you no matter where you might lead us one day."

"Why me? Just because I am this- Dragonborn?" I cringed at this mountain people been making out of this molehill, as if once you are Dragonborn then all eyes are on you and every faction, every hold is eager to have you as their chosen champion. "

"Ha! I don't give two wet shits about whether you are a dragonborn personally, granted, it may be helpful in convincing the other Jarls and the Emprie. I just know this, You fought, drank and laughed with us, and saved the city with us. The people of Whiterun loves you dearly Alvanna. And it is only fitting for the old like me, like Ulfric, to step aside now and let the younger ones with the fire in them to burn bright. Who knows how many winters' left of me? It may not be long till I see my dear friend Kodlak at Sovngarde again." There's a soft touch of grief that I could detect, but he didn't dwelled on it for too long.

I didn't get a chance to answer anything before he already headed for the rest of the steps up the keep. I got lost once again in my gaze into the city beneath, and even the plains beyond the horizon. It would've been nice if the good people of Skyrim don't have to taste the war again. I chilled at the thought that I may let them down. I don't want to let anyone down. I slammed my fist hard on the cold stone and felt the faint pain rise up from it. I am no paragon and I am not a saint, but I will do right to the people who place their trust in me.

…

Before I even got through the door of the Underforge, I could hear arguing coming from inside this makeshift door. Angi had shown me before on this location so it didn't take me too long to find, I waited a while for them at the Jorrvaskr but they been taking their time so I decided to check on them.

"The old man had one wish before he died. And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that." Vilkas' tone is soft but you can tell that he is not going to take no for an answer.

"Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think, Vilkas." Aela argued back, staring right up at Vilka, who's about a foot over her height.

Vilkas is seemingly a bit annoyed with Aela's attitude right now, "That's fine for you, but the old man had wanted different, He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all that was taken from him"

Aela interrupted, "And you avenged him." She saw me coming in, nodded but not distracted.

Farkas jumped in to his Brother's aid, "Aela, Kodlak did not care for vengeance."

Vilkas looked at him and Aela, "No, Farkas, he didn't. And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood."

Angie also agreed with Vilkas, I think she still doesn't feel quite comfortable speaking up in front of these three just yet, especially on the topic of someone they hold dear.

Aela eventually backed down, "You're right. It's what he wanted, and he deserved to have it."

"What is this about? What do you mean Kodlak might not make it to Sovngarde?" I asked.

Vilkas turned to me and explained, "The Lycanthropy we have draws from the power of the Daedra Hircine, upon death we are bound for his hunting ground instead of Sovngarde."

I stepped forward to beside them, "Then how should we honor Kodlak's last wish for Sovngarde, is there any way?"

Angie hesitated while glancing at Aela but she spoke up, "Hmm, Kodlak was saying something similar to me earlier as well, he had me set out to slain a few hagravens of the Glenmoril Coven, I still have the heads as he needed them to sever the bond, I don't know if they are still any good now."

Hearing her, Farkas immediately thought of something, "You know, Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death. You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor."

Aela nodded, "I remember…There the souls of Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel. But we can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years."

Another person entered the forge whilst she was talking, it is no surprise really, given how Kodlak was loved in his life, everyone wants to do their part for his one last wish, "…And dragons were just stories. the elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be. The blade is a weapon. A tool. Tools are meant to be broken. And repaired", it is Eorlund Grey-mane, and he was still quite sweaty and seemed to had quite a chore since the funeral, his blood is pulsating through his arteries and veins at his temple but he had his hands firmly gripped on an axe.

The axe, polished and freshly off the forge, was long handled, was the wailing face of an elf at his doom. The etching on its surface gives ample room for it to slice through its enemies without getting stuck. A deadly beauty, a weapon befitting kings. When it entered into this chamber, It feels that an ancient song is unearthed, but we are still in the prelude, the whirling, winding whispers of the glory of its past. I think everyone here who had Nordic blood in them can feel a silent tremor and joy in our very essence.

"Is that?" Vilkas' voice is getting a bit shakey, "did you repair the blade?"

Eorlund's face has the utmost kind of pride, it is his right to be proud, for he had brought something more than just a blade back to our age, after thousands of years, the children of Skyrim wields the Wuuthrad once again. "This is the first time I've had all the pieces, thanks to our Shield-sisters here. 'The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered.' The flames of Kodlak shall fuel the rebirth of Wuuthrad. And now it will take you to meet him once more. "

Eorlund handed the axe to Vilkas but he also acknowledged the rest in the room, "As the ones who bore the fragments and reunited them, I think you should be the ones to carry Wuuthrad into the tomb of Ysgramor." He took a second to glance over everyone in the room, "I entrust this blade to you Vilkas, for being the first one to recognize what Kodlak had wanted and speak out for his honor."

He wiped the sweat from his chest and scratched his head, "What are you lot still waiting for? Prepare for the journey. For Kodlak!"

"For Kodlak"