A/N: Chapter three is done, finally. Apologies for such a long gap between the previous chapter and this one, but life became really busy (as it has a tendency to do from time to time) and that combined with this chapter being difficult to write… well, the delay speaks for itself. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and as always please let me know what you think if you can spare the time.

Chapter 3: Contrasts

For a split-second, Valorn stood frozen in surprise, before desperately reaching for his sword as the mace swung in a wide arc towards his head. As his fingers closed around the hilt of the weapon and began to pull it free, though, he realised the brief moment of hesitation had cost him. Even as he raised his sword to intercept the attack, a feeling deep in his gut told him he was going to be fractionally too slow. While wearing a helmet, the odds of surviving a direct strike to the head from a mace, especially one wielded by an individual as large as the Orc before him, were minimal. Without one, though, the chances of living were completely non-existent.

Valorn crashed to the ground on his back, the impact knocking the wind out of him as he found himself staring up at the darkening sky. Again he hesitated for the briefest of moments, expecting to feel the side of his head explode with agony before his vision turned black. Instead, confusion took over as the Orc let out a bellow of surprise and rage at something behind the Altmer, causing him to glance in that direction. Suddenly, everything became clear.

Releasing her hold on the back of his robes as she straightened up, Lydia shouted a challenge back at the bandit as she drew her sword before raising it high and charging into him. Her shield crashed into the Orc's chest, his muscular torso no match for the thick circle of wood and steel as it sent him sprawling to the ground. As Valorn watched in shock, the housecarl then pivoted to her left, bringing her blade down across the neck of one of the Nords and sending a spray of red blood across the campsite. The man joined the Orc on the floor, his entire body convulsing as a pool of red began to form around him, his sword falling from numb fingers.

Shaking his head to clear it, Valorn awkwardly clambered back to his feet, wincing as his back protested. Striding over to the Orc as he too attempted to rise, the High Elf sneered down at the bandit as the palm of his left hand filled with fire, before he sent it down in a thick stream towards the man's face.

The Orc's screams of pain and fear as he was set alight only lasted for a couple of seconds before Valorn took aim with his sword and thrust it into his now wide-open chest. Twisting the blade once before removing it, he watched with a smirk as the bandit fell silent, the flames continuing to consume his body uncaringly.

Looking up as there was an ear-splitting clang of metal against metal, the Altmer saw Lydia stagger back towards him, a dent twice the size of a septim now present on the rim of her shield. The final bandit raised his warhammer before bringing it down upon her again, the Nord woman barely managing to lift her shield in time to protect herself. Even though she just about managed to block the attack, the power behind it caused her to lose her footing entirely this time, Lydia landing heavily on her back with a grunt.

As the bandit lifted his warhammer to deliver a third strike, Valorn flicked out his arm, his palm flat, sending forth a stream of flame in the man's direction. With a violent curse, the Nord was forced to drop his weapon as he backed away, the fire singeing the edges of his armour without successfully igniting it. Moving past Lydia as she lowered her shield to see what was going on, Valorn raised his arm again at the same time as the bandit reached behind him, pulling a hunting bow free from his back and nocking an arrow.

His eyes widening in surprise, as he hadn't seen the other weapon in the poor light, Valorn desperately unleashed another stream of fire at the bandit, just as the other man finished drawing the string of his bow. The fire washed over him a second later, sending him down screaming.

But not before the arrow struck Valorn with a thud, the impact spinning him round and sending him into Lydia's tent, which collapsed under him just as his own had earlier.

"My Thane!"

Grunting as he attempted to get his arms underneath him so he could push himself back to his feet, Valorn then barely managed to hold back a scream of pain as his right shoulder suddenly erupted with agony, a strangled hiss instead escaping his lips. Carefully rolling over onto his back, he hissed again before glancing at his shoulder, which confirmed his suspicions. The shaft of the arrow protruded out from his body, the wood unevenly coloured and chipped, a testament to the lack of care that had gone into making the projectile. The same lack of care was also visible from the feathers at the end of it, many of which were torn or even missing. Such a poorly made arrow as this one would have been useless at anything resembling a reasonable distance. Unfortunately for him, however, it had been of a high enough quality to travel a few metres at a decent speed.

Sitting up caused a thin stream of blood to begin running down the front of his robes, the deep red liquid soaking into the material as though he had spilt wine down his front. Finding himself feeling a little nauseous as he watched the blood continue to flow from the wound, Valorn struggled to his feet, this time making sure to rely solely on his left arm and legs.

Attempting to walk over to the bandit who had shot him in order to check that he was indeed dead, Valorn only managed to take a single step in the direction of the body before Lydia abruptly blocked his path, her sword and shield still in her hands. Suddenly feeling very tired, the High Elf attempted to move around her, only for the housecarl to block him again, an insistent look on her features.

"We need to leave now, my Thane," she explained, her voice little more than a whisper as she glanced around for any further threats. "There could be more of them in the area." She then eyed the arrow embedded in his shoulder before continuing. "We can only remove that when we're somewhere safe."

Valorn nodded his head in agreement. "We cannot afford to leave our equipment behind, however," he replied, his voice as quiet as the Nord woman's. Noting that the bandit who had shot him was still aflame and wasn't moving, the Altmer paid him no further mind, now turning his full attention to the woman opposite him. "Gather yours as quickly as you can. We move as soon as we are packed."

It took the two of them less than two minutes to force their camping gear and food back into their packs, which now bulged awkwardly in several places as a result of their haste. Hefting his own over his uninjured shoulder, Valorn turned to their fire before raising a hand in its direction. Concentrating for a moment caused a sensation of bitter cold to fill his palm, a blue glow appearing there as he directed a small stream of freezing air filled with tiny ice crystals into the heart of the fire. The blaze hissed angrily as the crystals made contact with it, the ice melting and evaporating instantly for the first couple of seconds. As the assault continued, though, the flames slowly grew lower in height, the hissing quieted, and the embers ceased glowing as the fire was gradually extinguished.

As Lydia began kicking some dirt over the pile of half-burned wood to ensure that there was no possibility of any embers he might have missed reigniting the blaze, Valorn turned away in order to squint at the darkness that surrounded them. The sun had very nearly finished setting entirely now, meaning the more dangerous members of the local wildlife would soon be getting more active, assuming they had not already started to. Despite that, though, Valorn decided he would much rather take his chances with any predators they might encounter than any further bandits. The three they had killed might have had the element of surprise on their side, but a larger group wouldn't need it.

Once Lydia had finished burying the fire with a final kick and walked over to him, the two of them returned to the path they had spent so much of the day following, before going in the same direction as they had earlier. If they were lucky, Valorn reasoned, hopefully any nearby predators would prefer to keep their distance from the path, even at night. Similarly, if the bandits they had encountered were part of a group with a hideout in the area, said hideout would no doubt be located some distance from the main route through the plains, else it would risk discovery by the hold's guards. The irony made him smile in spite of the arrow in his shoulder. Despite what had just occurred, following the path as they had earlier was still the wisest course of action.

Given how she voiced no complaint about what they were doing, his companion had clearly reached the same conclusion. And although he set a quick pace, closer to running than normal walking speed, Lydia still had no trouble keeping up with him despite her armour, just as she had experienced no difficulty in doing so earlier. In all likelihood, Valorn decided, it was now due to the arrow that protruded from his shoulder. Every step he took caused a stab of intense pain to run through the area, preventing him from going as fast as he would have liked, though fortunately the head of the projectile did a good job stemming the blood flow from the wound. Even so, it didn't take long before the front of his robes were more dark red than off-white and blue, every movement he made, no matter how small, causing more blood to emerge from his shoulder.

Less than ten minutes after they had set off, the sun finally finished setting. Even though they could now barely see more than a metre in front of them, Valorn didn't summon some fire to improve the visibility, and neither did Lydia ask him to. It seemed the Nord woman understood just as well as he did that any source of light they carried would make them far more visible to any other bandits in the area. However, he refused to give her any credit for realising that fact. It was basic common sense, the kind even a Nord should possess.

The minutes became hours as the two of them continued to press on, their brows soaked with sweat, with nothing changing around them. Well, in all probability the exact layout of the plains changed somewhat, not that Valorn could say for sure. It was only when he heard the faint sound of rushing water three hours or so after their flight had begun that he realised they had to be approaching a river or stream of some kind. It was also only then that he noticed how thirsty he was. Both he and Lydia had already possessed waterskins before visiting Belethor's shop—they were something so fundamental that owning one went without saying—but they had finished draining them soon after leaving their campsite. As a result, Valorn's throat now ached at the prospect of cool water, as though it were a conscious being screaming at the Altmer to satisfy its demands.

"We will head for that river or whatever it is and rest there," he said, his voice cracking on account of how dry his mouth was.

He was barely able to see it as Lydia nodded her head in agreement, but he could still tell from how slow the gesture was that spending most of the day travelling while so well protected was finally taking its toll on her. In truth, he was even more surprised now at her endurance than he had been before, though he supposed it was still to be expected. He had noticed already that most of the creatures of Skyrim were hardy just like the plant life. The livestock he had seen so far were a prime example of this, with the cows in particular being covered with long hair to stave off the cold and also possessing a stocky, powerful build. It should have served as no great shock to him then that the Nords were much the same as the animals they shared Skyrim with.

Although, once again, he could not give his companion too much credit, he decided. She did not, after all, have an arrow stuck in one of her shoulders.

It only took a few minutes for them to reach the source of the sound of rushing water. The narrow stream appeared black in the darkness, save for the nearly perfect reflection of Nirn's two moons on its surface, the image of each only broken by the occasional ripple caused by a passing fish. The banks on both sides of the body of water rose only a foot or so above the stream itself, and they consisted of the same unyielding, frozen soil as the rest of the plains. In short, the area was very tranquil, the only sound that could be heard being the gentle splashing caused by the flow of the stream.

A quick examination of the immediate surroundings confirmed that there were no predators or, more importantly, bandits nearby, but even so, Valorn and Lydia remained as quiet as possible as they sat down a few metres from one another next to the stream. Leaning over the slowly moving water, the High Elf formed a bowl with his hands before scooping up as much water as he could and drinking deeply. After doing this several times, he removed the plug from his waterskin and lowered it into the stream, filling the vessel almost to the brim before sealing it again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia do the same, the Nord woman likewise drinking from the stream before refilling her own waterskin.

His thirst sated, Valorn stared down at his reflection for a moment, before wincing at it. His normally golden skin was a shade or two paler than usual, a result of both blood loss and exhaustion. His eyes were bloodshot, and their own golden colour appeared less vibrant than normal as well. Lowering his hood and running a hand through his shoulder length blond hair, the Altmer sighed before closing his eyes, enjoying the brief moment of peace he had found after the events of the day.

Naturally, the moment was shattered by the sound of Lydia getting up and walking over to him. Opening his eyes as the Nord woman sat down next to him, her reflection joining his own, Valorn saw that she looked just as exhausted as he did. Her own eyes were likewise bloodshot, and she moved awkwardly, her muscles clearly protesting at what they had been put through.

"We should remove that now, my Thane," she said, gesturing towards the arrow. "The longer we leave it, the more likely it is that any dirt present on the head could cause a disease."

"I know," Valorn replied, wincing as he shifted his weight slightly.

The housecarl shifted closer. "I've had to help a few of the city guards before when they were injured fighting bandits," she explained, pausing for a moment before continuing. "If you focus on something else and try to relax, it will be less painful."

Valorn had returned his attention to his reflection while she had been talking, mentally preparing himself to remove the arrow from his shoulder. Deciding that ripping it out as fast as possible would probably be the best course of action as opposed to trying to gently work it free, he didn't notice at first as Lydia began to reach for the shaft of the projectile. In fact, it wasn't until her fingertips brushed against it that he realised the housecarl had interpreted his turning away from her as an invitation to remove the offending object.

Seizing her wrist with a snarl, he whipped his head round to face the Nord woman, who stared back at him in shock. "Don't touch me," he hissed, fury filling his voice. "I will remove it myself."

"I…" Lydia appeared stunned by his rage. "Forgive me, my Thane. I only meant to help you."

Ignoring her apology, Valorn looked up in an attempt to distract himself, releasing her wrist as he did so. Even here in Skyrim, the night sky was beautiful, he decided. Each star was like a tiny diamond as it twinkled serenely high above him, and Nirn's two moons, Masser and Secunda, were even more breath-taking still, both being nearly full. Feeling himself relax as he gazed upon something more perfect than humans or even mer could ever hope to create, Valorn slowly moved his left hand to the arrow, the action almost absentminded as he remained as focused on the natural spectacle above him as he could. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the shaft of the projectile so as not to jostle it, the High Elf closed his eyes and exhaled gently, before wrenching the arrow free in one smooth motion.

Valorn screamed, the sound echoing over the surrounding plains for a split-second, before he buried his face into the crook of his elbow in order to muffle it. His vision turned red as he bit down on the rough material of his sleeve, his entire body trembling all over as he attempted to stifle his cries of pain.

As he wrestled with the agony emanating from his shoulder, he could have sworn he heard the sound of tearing fabric, a testament to just how hard he was biting down. As the excruciating pain finally began to fade after several of the longest seconds of his life, Valorn released his grip on his sleeve, his jaw aching dully from having clamped down so hard upon it.

Breathing raggedly, the Altmer glanced at his shoulder, wincing at how it now wept blood in a thin stream, before concentrating. A feeling of warmth suffused his palm a moment later, accompanied by a softly glowing orange, almost golden, light. Unlike when he summoned fire, though, there was no harshness present to his magic this time, only a soothing and reassuring aura. Bringing his hand into contact with his shoulder, Valorn sighed in relief as the healing spell began to repair the damage to his flesh, the blood flow quickly slowing as the skin and muscle knitted back together.

He was only able to maintain the spell for a few seconds before he was forced to stop, the last of his energy spent. Glancing at his shoulder again, Valorn allowed himself to make a grunt of satisfaction. It had been almost completely healed, with only the occasional drop of blood now escaping from it. Internally, he cursed that he had not had the foresight to buy any bandages or especially healing potions before leaving Whiterun, even if his funds had been strained by the purchases he had actually made.

As if on cue, a piece of thick brown fabric appeared in front of him, held by an outstretched hand. Taking the material from Lydia without looking at her, Valorn pulled the collar of his robes away from his skin before sliding the fabric over his chest and onto his shoulder, holding it in place firmly in an attempt to finally stop the blood flow. That would have to do for the moment. In the morning, once his strength had returned, he could finish healing himself with magic.

The sound of Lydia getting to her feet caused him to look in her direction as the Nord woman turned to look back the way they had come, her dark eyes scanning the plains for any sign of movement. "I will keep watch, my Thane," she offered, the fatigue in her voice obvious despite how she tried to hide it. "There could still be more bandits nearby."

The implication that he could now sleep proved too much for Valorn. His eyelids began to drift shut of their own accord, and he was suddenly lying on his back next to the stream, his body having taken the initiative without him consciously giving it a command. The last thought the Altmer had was that he should at the very least first set up his tent and bedroll, before he entered the land of dreams less than a second later.

After several minutes of uncomfortably fidgeting this way and that, the rising sun finally woke him.

Turning away so as not to be blinded, Valorn found to his surprise that the ground beneath his head was much softer than he remembered it being. Manoeuvring himself into a sitting position, he saw that he had been using his bedroll as a makeshift pillow, the soft fur having been rolled up into a cylinder in order to protect the back of his head from the rough ground.

Frowning as he could have sworn he had fallen asleep without so much as touching his bedroll, much less rolling it up, Valorn carefully got to his feet, finding to his relief that his shoulder now only protested slightly when he moved it. Taking a deep breath of cool morning air, he glanced around for a moment before spotting Lydia sitting a few metres away to his right, her back to him.

The housecarl had wrapped her own bedroll around herself like a blanket, allowing her to remain warm while staying awake. Her tent was nowhere to be seen, presumably it was still in her pack and she had decided she could not keep watch effectively from inside it. She did not move as Valorn approached her from behind, her attention remaining fixed on a point in the distance. It was only when he reached her and then glanced back at the sun that the Altmer realised she had spent the whole night scanning the area for any sign of danger.

"Why didn't you wake me so I could take over the watch?" he demanded, walking in front of her in order to obstruct her view.

Blinking slowly, Lydia looked up at him, her eyes dull and severely bloodshot as they narrowed at his tone. "You were wounded yesterday, my Thane," she replied, a hint of acid creeping into her voice. "You needed as much rest as possible."

"But what if you had fallen asleep and then we had been attacked?" Valorn countered angrily, pointing back the way they had come. "Any bandits that found us would have killed us in our sleep."

Lydia's bedroll fell to the ground as she rose to her feet, a flash of anger passing through her eyes before she managed to gain control over her fury. "Then I would have failed in my duty to protect you, my Thane," she retorted. "I would never let that happen."

Valorn shook his head at her. Regardless of the fact that he had been injured, her actions could have resulted in both of their deaths. "Next time wake me," he retorted. "There are many ways I don't want to die, and because of a Nord's foolishness is one of them."

Once again, Lydia's eyes filled with barely restrained anger. "As you wish, my Thane," she replied after a moment, the strain in her voice as she attempted to keep it level even worse than before.

Nodding curtly, Valorn walked over to his pack before kneeling down next to it. Rummaging around inside it, he soon located the two fish they had cooked the previous night. Setting his own to one side for the moment, he then tossed Lydia hers, the Nord woman catching it clumsily, nearly falling over before regaining her footing as she blinked tiredly.

"We're wasting daylight," he said coldly. "We will set off as soon as we've eaten."

Turning his back to the housecarl, Valorn picked up his fish before walking over to the edge of the stream and sitting down. Taking a large bite of his meal, he winced as he realised it was undercooked, the fish slimy and cold instead of melting on his tongue as he had expected. Unbidden, his thoughts returned to the salmon he had enjoyed back at the Bannered Mare, his stomach growling at the memory. Quickly pushing it from his mind as best he could, Valorn took a second bite, concentrating on the gently flowing water in front of him as he attempted to ignore the unpleasant texture of his food. After what had occurred only a matter of hours ago, he knew that he should have been grateful to be alive to consume the fish in the first place, not complaining silently that it hadn't been cooked properly.

It only took him five minutes to finish his breakfast despite its taste. Rising to his feet, Valorn brushed his robes down with his hands before sparing another glance in the direction of the sun, which was still a fair distance away from its zenith. Motioning silently for Lydia to follow suit, he began to pack up his bedroll, focusing his mind on High Hrothgar as he did so. For all that had transpired already, he knew their journey had only really just begun.

And he had an unpleasant feeling that there would be other surprises than just bandits in store before it came to an end.