A/N: I enjoyed writing the first chapter of Summerset Ice even more than I expected to, so it didn't take me long at all to make a start on this one. Here we go!

Chapter 2: Departure

Fortunately for Valorn, the morning was milder than he had expected it would be.

Pushing the furs that lay atop him off to one side, the Altmer rose from the bed on unsteady legs, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his eyes of the lingering effects of sleep. There were no windows in his room, a design decision likely born out of a desire to ensure the occupant remained comfortable even during the most bitter of snowstorms. Aesthetically pleasing as they could be, windows weren't exactly good at keeping a room warm, after all. While that did mean he couldn't look outside to see what the exact time was, the fact he felt well rested confirmed that he had slept for a while, and that it was indeed morning.

Turning to where he remembered the candles being, he raised a hand in their direction, his fingers grasping for them. As his fingertips brushed their wicks, he concentrated, brow furrowing just slightly. A sensation of intense but not uncomfortable warmth spread across his palm, and a small yet bright orange flame flickered into existence there. The wicks caught fire almost immediately, bathing the room in dim light.

Allowing his concentration to lapse and the flame in his hand to vanish, Valorn bent down to retrieve his boots before pulling them on and enveloping his feet in warm fur. Ensuring his dagger was still concealed within his robes and his sword was still at his hip, and wincing as his side protested on account of the sheathed blade having pressed into it while he had slept, the High Elf then rolled his shoulders a few times. Satisfied he had not forgotten anything, Valorn walked over to the door that led out onto the landing, opening it quietly before making his way downstairs.

The smell of freshly cooked fish filled the kitchen as he walked through it, the same Redguard server from yesterday glancing up at him as he moved past her before looking back down at the meal she was preparing. Deciding that breakfast would not go amiss considering he had a long day ahead, Valorn entered the main room of the inn and headed for the same chair he had used the previous evening. It was only when he was halfway to it that he noticed the one opposite it had been claimed, which caused him to pause just next to the fire pit.

Lydia was almost done with her own breakfast, the Nord woman having consumed most of the smoked salmon on her plate rather quickly, judging by how she was attacking what little of it remained. She had not seen him yet, which caused Valorn to eye other places to sit before mentally scolding himself for doing so. He would sit where he pleased, not allow himself to succumb to the notion that he should sit somewhere else in order to avoid the same awkwardness from before.

The housecarl was so fixated on her food that she didn't notice him until he sat down across from her, but when she finally did, that same uncomfortable atmosphere from the previous evening returned with a vengeance. Neither of them spoke at first, the silence stretching on for several unbearable seconds. Finally, after seeming to debate internally about what to say judging by how her brow furrowed, Lydia lowered her cutlery before clearing her throat. Turning to face the Altmer as she spoke, it was immediately obvious from her voice that she was indeed just as uncomfortable as he was, though she tried to hide it.

"Good morning, my Thane," the Nord woman said, her tone cordial, though clearly forced. "I hope you slept well."

Valorn nodded curtly. Another moment of silence passed before the Redguard server began to slowly approach them from the direction of the kitchen, her leisurely pace grating on his nerves. Turning to face her, the Altmer didn't bother to hide his scowl. She had a job to do; the least she could do was ensure she performed it at a reasonable speed. Even Elves did not live forever.

"The same as her," he said, indicating Lydia's plate and cutting the Redguard off halfway through her asking him what he would like. That earned him a scowl in return, but the server began to walk back to the kitchen a second later all the same. Glaring at the woman as she retreated, Valorn sighed as he felt the beginning of a headache. Humans. Whether Nord, Redguard, Imperial, or Breton, they were all the same.

"Was that really necessary?"

The question caught him by surprise, causing him to turn back to face Lydia, who had crossed her arms at some point while he hadn't been looking. "Was what necessary?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lydia's eyes narrowed the same way they had the day before. "Did you really have to treat her like that?" she elaborated, nodding in the Redguard's direction. "She's given you no reason to be as rude to her as you just were."

"She has a job to do. All that matters is she carries it out properly without wasting time."

The matter closed as far as he was concerned, Valorn decided to change the subject. "Once I've eaten, we'll need to buy travelling supplies. Non-perishable food, bedrolls, and so forth. As soon as we have what we need, we'll leave Whiterun."

Lydia opened her mouth to respond, only to close it as the Redguard returned and placed a plate of salmon as well as some cutlery in front of the High Elf. Before the server could ask him to pay, Valorn was already removing his coin purse from his robes. Counting out half the amount he had paid for yesterday's stew, given Lydia had presumably already paid for her own breakfast, he placed the coins in a pile on the table. He then ignored the server as she seized the money and left, already forgetting about her now that the transaction was complete.

Taking hold of his cutlery, Valorn sliced off a piece of salmon with his knife before spearing the morsel on his fork. He was already raising it to his mouth when Lydia finally spoke, which caused him to pause in annoyance, the fish only halfway to its destination.

"Belethor should have what we need, my Thane. His shop is right across from the Bannered Mare, just on the other side of the market. He does tend to charge a lot, though."

Valorn finished raising the piece of fish to his mouth and then chewed it slowly, enjoying its delicate texture as it practically melted on his tongue. Taking his time before finally swallowing, he then returned his attention to Lydia, who was doing a poor job of disguising her impatience as she waited for him to respond.

"We will try there first, then. It would be more convenient to get everything we need from one shop, rather than having to visit several."

Stepping out of the Bannered Mare and walking into Whiterun's market, Valorn was immediately struck by how lively it was compared with the previous day as he glanced around. By the time he had returned to Whiterun late afternoon yesterday to inform Balgruuf that the dragon had been slain, business had been in the process of winding down as night approached. Then when he had passed through from the opposite direction later with Lydia, the market had been completely empty aside from a few of the city guard.

The guards were still present, or at least that was what it seemed like. Presumably the actual guards he had seen last night were resting, having been replaced by a new shift, but it was hard to tell for sure, owing to how they were equipped. They each wore the same identical uniform, which consisted of a layer of chainmail over the torso, on top of which was a padded vest made up of squares of greyish brown material to ward against the cold. Over that was a layer of thick yellow cloth, which encircled the man or woman's shoulders before running down their front, being belted in place at the waist to stop it from flapping around. Fur boots protected the feet against both the elements and anything more dangerous.

The feature that really made it impossible to tell one guard from another, though, was the helmet they each wore. Comprised of steel and covering the whole of the head including the face, it provided excellent protection at the cost of making the wearer appear somewhat intimidating to the local population. Not being able to see a guard's eyes through the dark eyeholes while knowing they could see you perfectly was certainly something many in Whiterun no doubt found disconcerting.

In fact, the only manner in which one guard might differ from another in appearance was in terms of their armament. Most carried an Imperial steel sword and a simple circular shield made up of wooden boards with a steel rim, the centre of which was painted yellow aside from an image of a horse, which was the symbol of the city. However, some guards instead carried a two-handed weapon, such as a greatsword, battleaxe, or warhammer. All of them, though, carried an Imperial bow on their backs, as well as a quiver of steel arrows.

All of this was relevant as while there were plenty of people milling around the market currently, the nearest guards all had their attention firmly fixed on Valorn. For a moment he thought it might have been because of his new title, but while some of the stares seemed to be of admiration, an equal number felt much more hostile. It appeared that the members of the city guard were split rather evenly between those who felt respect for their new Thane and those who felt hostility towards a member of a race they regarded as the enemy. For some of them the memory of the Great War clearly still lingered strongly.

Being tired from fighting the dragon at the time as well as everything else that had occurred since he had arrived in Skyrim, Valorn hadn't noticed the attitude many of the guard held towards him the day before, but it was impossible to miss now. As his gaze wandered to a guard who was leaning against a building only a few metres away on his left, the particularly well-built Nord brazenly moved one hand closer to the greatsword on his back. The man even tilted his head at Valorn, seemingly daring him to try something, anything, that would give him an adequate enough excuse to cut the High Elf down.

Deciding it would be best to ignore the guards as much as possible, Valorn turned his attention to the people manning the stalls, purchasing items from them, or simply walking around the area. As expected, most were Nords, but one of the stall owners, a woman selling vegetables, was an Imperial. She was currently engaged in a conversation with a Redguard man, who judging by the fine clothes he wore and the way he carried himself, considered himself to be a person of great importance. Well, that and the fact that Valorn could hear him complaining clearly from where he stood.

There was only one other Elf aside from him in the area. The man, a Bosmer, was standing behind a stall stacked with cuts of meat from a wide variety of game, his green and white clothes surprisingly free of blood considering his stock. As if sensing Valorn's eyes were on him, the Wood Elf turned in his direction, giving him a smile and a quick wave before turning to beckon a passing Nord with red hair over, no doubt encouraging her to buy from him. His mood slightly improved as a result of being acknowledged by a fellow mer, it took a moment for Valorn to remember that he had a purpose and that standing around would not accomplish it.

Despite his silence, Lydia had not seen fit to interrupt his thoughts this time, which only served to improve his mood further when he realised it. Fixing his gaze on the building opposite the one he had just left, Valorn strode towards it, the sound of the housecarl's footsteps joining his own a second later. She hadn't been wrong; the shop really was no more than a stone's throw away from the Bannered Mare. In fact, it only took him about ten seconds to reach it, the door opening as if on cue as a brown-haired Breton man stepped out of the building.

The shopkeeper looked Valorn up and down, clearly sizing him up. For a moment the Altmer thought that the other man was trying to figure out whether or not he was a threat, but he dismissed that notion almost instantly. It was far more likely that this… Belethor was instead trying to work out how wealthy he was, and accordingly how much money he could extract from him as a result.

Beginning to bridle under the Breton's scrutiny, Valorn addressed him, remembering the nearby guards as he kept his tone civil. "Belethor, I presume?" he asked, already knowing the answer but unsure how else to move the situation along.

The shopkeeper stopped his examination and met Valorn's gaze with his own, but the look of greed never left his eyes. "That's me," he replied. "Welcome to Belethor's General Goods!" He then stepped back inside the shop, holding the door open for the High Elf before continuing. "Would you like to come in?"

As soon as both Valorn and Lydia were inside the building, Belethor practically pushed past them both in order to stand behind a wooden counter opposite the door. He then leaned casually onto it, the friendly yet calculated smile of a professional salesman plastered onto his face.

"Got something for just about everybody in here," the Breton announced, his smile never wavering as he gestured around his establishment with a hand. "Give a holler if you have any questions."

Valorn nodded slowly, slightly taken aback by the man's overly keen demeanour. Quickly scanning the contents of the room but not spotting anything he needed, and unwilling to spend any more time in the shop than was necessary, the High Elf sighed under his breath.

Approaching the counter, and not failing to notice Belethor's obvious delight as a result of him doing so, Valorn stood with his hands behind his back, which allowed him to conceal how his fingers twitched in irritation. "My… associate and I need supplies for a long journey," he began. "Camping equipment and food specifically. What do you have available in that regard?"

Belethor's smile widened, forcing the Altmer to try even harder to hide the movement of his fingers as his annoyance grew. All he had to do was remain calm until he and Lydia had the things they needed. Hopefully it would only take a few minutes for their business here to be concluded.

As it turned out, it was late morning by the time he and Lydia emerged from the shop. Both of them now carried a pack containing a bed roll, a small tent made from animal hide, and some non-perishable food. Given that the money he had spent at the Bannered Mare had left his coin purse noticeably lighter than it had been when he had first arrived in Whiterun, Valorn had been forced to spend the better part of three hours negotiating with Belethor, much to his anger.

In the end, he had managed to wear the Breton down to something vaguely resembling a reasonable price, but he and Lydia had been forced to bear the cost equally, owing to how much the purchases totalled. While it was only fair that they do that considering the Nord would be making as much use of their new supplies as he would, having to turn to her and ask her for her assistance had been degrading to say the least. Outwardly, Lydia had respectfully agreed that they should split the cost, but Valorn could tell the dark-haired woman had picked up on his discomfort and that she had a hard time disguising her smugness as a result.

Damn Nords.

"We will depart now before we waste any more time," he said, turning to face the woman next to him. "We can still make a fair amount of progress today if we walk quickly."

Lydia nodded her head in agreement. "By your word, my Thane," she replied, no strain in her voice despite the considerable combined weight of her armour, sword, shield, and pack. She then seemed to mull over whether to say anything else or not before deciding to continue. "I've only left Whiterun Hold a couple of times before. Who knows what awaits us between here and our destination?"

Valorn didn't respond, instead turning away from her to face the city gates, which were just about visible from the market. Despite his desire to leave, those gates in some strange way represented safety. Once he and Lydia had left them behind, they would be in genuine danger, vulnerable to animals, bandits, and whatever else might be lurking between here and High Hrothgar. However, all of those threats were nothing compared with the one that could be closing in on Whiterun already, if news of there being an Altmer in the city had already reached a Thalmor agent. No, his current plan was the only viable one; leave the city now, before it was too late.

Adjusting the straps of his pack, Valorn set off, making a beeline for the city gates, Lydia following him a couple of seconds later. Passing by various houses, another inn, and even a blacksmith's forge at a quick, but unhurried pace, he and the housecarl reached their destination in only a couple of minutes. A pair of guards, equipped in the same manner as the rest of the force in Whiterun, turned to face the Altmer and Nord as they approached.

"Hail, Thane," the first guard greeted. "The Jarl has made it clear that you can enter and leave the city whenever you want to. He also instructed us to extend his thanks to you once again for your role in slaying the dragon, and to tell you that his people are honoured to have you as their Thane."

That caught Valorn by surprise. There was no indication in the man's voice that he disagreed with what Balgruuf had said. On the contrary, his tone was respectful, indicating that not only did he agree with the Jarl, but that he did so wholeheartedly. After his observations in the market, it was rather shocking to Valorn not to be met with at least some hostility upon leaving the city. The other guard, for her part, remained silent, but judging by her body language, she was of the same mind-set as her comrade.

It actually took a few seconds for Valorn to gather his thoughts enough to reply. "I need to leave the city," the High Elf managed eventually. "I have business elsewhere."

The first guard inclined his head, before motioning to the other one to help him. The two of them grasped a handle each and they began to slowly push their respective door open, quietly grunting with the effort. As they were designed to resist siege engines such as battering rams and catapults, the gates weighed a great deal. Silently, Valorn admitted to himself that he was glad the two guards were present, even if they were Nords. With several hours of daylight already gone, the last thing he wanted to do was waste energy moving something so heavy.

Slipping between the two guards as soon as a large enough gap appeared, Valorn stepped out of Whiterun, before taking in a deep breath of late morning air. Realising Lydia hadn't followed him, he glanced back, only to find that she had stopped to thank the guards. Waiting impatiently for her to join him, the Altmer crossed his arms as he turned his back to the city, before examining what lay ahead of them.

While technically he was now outside Whiterun, for all intents and purposes, the city's official limits might as well have extended several hundred metres further than its main walls. Beyond those, where Valorn was now standing, were a series of defences consisting of several sets of small fortifications, including towers and walls, all made of drab grey stone. Despite how Whiterun possessed neither an Imperial garrison nor a Stormcloak one, the defences were still fully manned, with there being plenty of guards either patrolling the area or scanning the surrounding plains for any potential danger.

Valorn wondered for a moment whether such a large force of city guard was common in Skyrim. Perhaps it was, or perhaps it was unique to Whiterun, having been necessitated by how Balgruuf had not as yet thrown his lot in with either side in the current civil war. Indeed, between those he could currently see and those he had seen while in the city itself, Whiterun's guard force was for all intents and purposes a small army, certainly being equipped well enough to contend with most any threat. Well, any threat aside from a large scale assault by either the Imperials or the Stormcloaks … or an attack by a dragon.

The sound of armoured boots striking the ground signalled that Lydia had finished speaking with the guards. Adjusting his pack again, Valorn set off, his lighter footwear making comparatively little sound as he walked along the cobblestone path that led through the city's defences. After speeding up for a moment, Lydia finally caught up with him, the two of them now walking side by side without speaking.

Before long they had emerged from the city's fortifications, and found themselves passing a set of stables, as well as a horse drawn carriage. Upon first arriving at Whiterun, just before the dragon had attacked the Western Watchtower, Valorn had actually inquired at the stables about purchasing a horse, knowing it was almost certainly too much for him to afford with the little gold he had, but deciding he might as well try his luck.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that he would not end the day owning one unless he was willing to part with at least one thousand Septims, he had then approached the carriage. However, the amount the owner had demanded in exchange for transportation to any of Skyrim's other hold capitals, while substantially less than the cost of buying a horse, had still been too much for him to afford.

Despite all of that, the Altmer still found himself looking wistfully at both the stables and carriage as he passed them. While he may have had no issue with walking in and of itself, weeks or even months of it was hardly a thrilling concept. However, it was the only option available to him, and that had still been the case even before he and Lydia had bought the supplies needed for extended travel. Perhaps, if circumstances allowed, he would purchase a horse at some point in the future, though he would need to be considerably wealthier than he was currently in order to do so.

Pushing any future plans regarding horse ownership from his mind as he left both the stables and carriage behind, Valorn instead turned his attention to the first irrefutable sign that he was no longer in Whiterun and now genuinely outside it. Just ahead of him, the path split in two, the first route heading left and the second right. Directly opposite him and between the two options stood a wooden signpost, worn by both age and the weather.

One arrow pointed straight at Valorn, or more accurately past him, towards Whiterun, the name of the city clearly legible on it owing to how it had been carved into the wood. Four other arrows had destinations carved into them, two of them pointing to the left and two to the right. The former pair bore the names of Riften and Windhelm, and the latter the names of Solitude and Markarth. Below those four, though, there were two more arrows. Unlike the others, however, the names of the places they pointed to were displayed in white paint, which must have been reapplied fairly recently, as Valorn could tell what they said. The bottommost of these displayed the name of Winterhold, but the one above it was the most relevant one to him. Pointing to the left, it bore the name of Ivarstead.

Turning in the direction indicated by the arrow, Valorn began to follow the path that led that way. Whiterun was now on his left, and to his right were a series of small farms, their crops somehow growing successfully despite the frozen state of the ground. The sky above him was pale blue and nearly cloudless, there being no chance of snow or even rain. As far as Skyrim's weather was concerned, it probably never got any more pleasant than this. Hopefully that was a good omen for the weeks of travel ahead.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours as he and Lydia walked in silence, the atmosphere between them still uncomfortable, though thankfully not as unbearably so as it had been in the Bannered Mare. In all probability, though, this was more as a result of the two of them being outside with plenty to distract them as opposed to anything else. The wildlife was a good example of such a distraction. Occasionally a rabbit would dart across the path in front of them, little more than a flash of brown fur on account of how fast it was. At other times a brightly coloured butterfly would float past, each one a different colour than the one before it. They even encountered a deer at one point, the creature freezing in place only a dozen metres away from them, nose twitching, before it turned around and ran off, presumably after the rest of its herd.

Fortunately, despite all of the other animals they encountered, no predators made their presence known as Valorn and Lydia pressed on. Most were likely sleeping, preferring to hunt at night when they could see better than their usual prey. It was still a pleasant surprise to the Altmer, though, that he did not so much as hear the distant howl of a wolf or roar of a cave bear. The former was something that had caught him by surprise the first time he had heard it in Skyrim, and a pair of the beasts had nearly torn his throat out before he had killed one and driven away the other with a stream of fire.

As night began to fall, the sun setting in order to make way for the moon, Lydia eventually spoke, breaking the silence, her voice slightly croaky as a result of not having been used for so long.

"We should start looking for somewhere to set up camp, my Thane," the housecarl suggested. "If we can get a fire going, hopefully anything dangerous will keep its distance."

Having been thinking along similar lines for the past few minutes, Valorn nodded before replying. "Agreed. We'll keep going until we find somewhere suitable and then stop for the night."

In the end it only took another ten minutes of walking before Valorn spotted an ideal location to rest. Situated only a hundred or so metres from the path was a small grove of the kind of tall but narrow trees that were common in Skyrim, their hardy nature meaning they were one of the few plants that could not only survive but also flourish in the harsh land. Hopefully, if the weather took a turn for the worse during the night, they would provide some protection from it. While their tents were made of treated animal hide and so should have been at least somewhat water resistant, Valorn still didn't want to put the quality of their craftsmanship to the test. Waking up in the middle of the night because you were soaked through was never a welcome situation to find oneself in.

Lydia raised no objections to his choice, and before long they had set up their respective tents. The two dwellings were not much to look at, both of them little more than a triangle of differently coloured furs with the ground as the bottom side of the shape, and they contained nothing other than their bedrolls. Nonetheless, having them was certainly far better than being without them.

Getting a fire going proved no harder to accomplish. Plenty of dead branches littered the ground at the bases of the trees they were positioned beneath, and the wood was dry enough that it caught light easily. Before long the two of them had even fashioned a makeshift spit and were in the process of cooking dinner.

Throughout all of this, as had been the case ever since they had left Whiterun, Valorn didn't see fit to start a conversation, and Lydia seemingly agreed with that sentiment, the two of them only exchanging words when they had to. If anything, he mused, the Nord woman seemed to be making a point to pay as little attention to him as possible, her focus now entirely concentrated on rotating the two fish they had skewered on the spit so that they cooked evenly. If he had to guess, she was still angry with him for the way he had treated the Redguard server from earlier, not that it really mattered to him why she was upset. As long as her mood didn't affect her ability to carry out her duties, it was of no concern to him.

With neither of them speaking, the plains around them were quiet except for the sound of the fish slowly cooking. The two portions smelled surprisingly good considering they had been salted and left in a jar on a shelf in Belethor's shop for who knew how long. After spending the better part of a day travelling and having skipped lunch, it didn't matter in the slightest to Valorn that he was essentially having the same meal twice in one day. In this instance, food was food and that was all that mattered.

A small cracking noise as one of the branches in the fire broke in two caused him to flinch almost imperceptibly, Lydia doing the same. Their gazes met for the first time in hours for a split-second as they each tracked the other's movement, before they averted their eyes again. A second, louder crack followed a moment later, though this time Valorn didn't react. Lydia, however, froze, one hand still on the end of the spit as her dark eyes darted this way and that, causing the Altmer to raise an eyebrow in irritation.

"It's just the fire," he said slowly, unsure why the second noise seemed to have bothered her more than the first one.

"I…" Lydia trailed off, glancing behind her and back at Valorn before continuing. "I could have sworn—" Her eyes snapped over to something behind the High Elf before widening. "My Thane, behind you!"

The panicked tone of her voice meant he was already moving before he had consciously processed the warning. As Valorn threw himself to the left, crashing into his tent in the process, something heavy slammed down where he had just been. Struggling to his feet at the same time as Lydia, he saw it was the head of an immense iron battleaxe, the metal dented and chipped, but still deadly.

The man holding the weapon, a Nord with blonde hair and rippling muscles clad in fur armour, wrenched the axe free from where the blade had embedded itself in the ground, sending a cloud of frozen soil into the air. Two more men, the first another Nord and the second a particularly large Orc, appeared behind him, the former holding a sword and the latter a mace. The obvious state of disrepair of the three men's weapons as well as their cheap, poorly maintained armour helped Valorn to identify them instantly.

Bandits.

For a moment, no one moved, time seeming to stand still. Then the Orc pushed to the front of the group, towering over his friends as he hefted his mace to shoulder height. "Hjromir here nearly smashed your head open, Elf," he grinned. "Don't worry, though. I won't miss."

And then he lunged at Valorn.