Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): WAAAY TO MUCH SMITHING DETAILS, Dwemer religion, too, but SMITHING DETAILS. This is a Short Chapter, more of a filler, really, like the prologue has just finished and we see the hero pack up his stuff to GTFO, which is actually this whole chapter.

FILLER CHAP BUT ENJOY IT ANYWAY!

Last time…

I first want to visit the other holds as was my original plan. As I leave the building moments later, I can't help but regain some of my good cheer. I have a project to look forwards to, as well as the possibility to purchase a house should I feel the need. For now, the Drunken Huntsman is enough – I wonder how the others are doing.

Chapter 12 – Smithing new plans

The moment I am within sight of Warmaiden's, Adrianne pounces like a starving wolf. "So where have you been? What have you been doing? Are these scales from that dragon that the guards were yelling about? What did you do? Why did the jarl want to see you? I want answers and - Kynareth be my witness - I'm not letting you go until I have them!" Jenassa is nowhere in sight, probably at the Huntsman, then. Leaving me to the wolves. I hold up my hands in mock-surrender with a grin. Man, I missed this human.

"Calm down! I'm currently more interested in what armour I can make from those scales I brought in. Firstly, how much for this sword?" I somehow doubt that Jarl Siddgeir will mind much when I sell this 'blade of Falkreath'. After conducting business – selling some gems as well as buying leather and steel ingots from her, I tell her: "All you really need to know is that I'm Thane of Falkreath now, I killed the dragon… and I will be using those scales to forge myself armour worthy of Xrib's blessings. It's like a rite of passage, it makes me an adult."

She crosses her arms in frustration. "I'll need more to go on than that! But… I suppose you can tell me all about your adventures whilst we go inside and work out some designs for that dragon-armour of yours."

I wiggle my eyebrows at her roguishly. "You know me so well." She slaps me on the back of my head and I laugh, finally relaxing a little as we make our way inside. I'm thrumming with excitement and can barely remain still as she goes off to find paper and charcoal. I'll be the first Dwemer to ever use dragon scales in armour! If I can do this… Maybe I can consider my training complete. I would be an adult! I bite my lip. Thinking is fine and all – now there's the part where I actually DO make the armour and offer it to Xrib.

I can keep the item I create, though. Xrib only judges, he does not take. Thank him for that, since I'm in desperate need of proper armour right about now. The Greybeards can wait until it is an adult Forgemaster standing on their doorsteps – alive, hopefully, thanks to this armour.

"Besides… How do I ask this? I thought Dwemer only focused on logic and fact, mocking the gods?" Adrianne asks as she returns, placing the paper on the counter and pulling up two chairs. I grimace even as I sink down in one, grabbing the charcoal and noting the name of the new 'project' at the top of the page. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask, since it's… complicated. Even I barely understand the details. How do I say this, Uhm..? I don't think I know enough words yet. For you to understand me, I mean."

"Try me."

How does one explain a series of abstract concepts one does not fully grasp themselves? I make a few frustrated gestures with my hands, not really knowing how to say it with my still limited grasp of the language. Finally, after a long silence, I make the attempt to explain:

"Alright, so imagine if the entire… world, with Oblivion and everything else that exists, was a circle. In that circle, you can draw a… line. A line between mortal things and… not-mortal things."

She raises her eyebrow inquisitively, though she also looks quite confused already. "You mean, the divines?" I make a so-so motion with my hand. "A bit. Everything Daedra, too. Everything… not-mortal. I don't know if there's a phrase for that. So, there is a line in the circle. But nobody knows where in the circle it is. My people have spent entire lives trying to figure out how to draw it. Where… Mortal ends and not-mortal begins. The line of True not-understanding. Where we as mortal beings, stop being able to… get… certain things with our minds..?" I can see I've lost her, and I sigh in disappointment, shaking my head. "You do not understand already."

Again, there's little point in explaining it other than to satisfy her curiosity – and I can't believe Calcelmo never got around to asking this of me. He might have been able to help me explain by pitching words at me until I found the right ones. But for now, there's sadly little I can do.

Her shoulders sag. "No, I do not. But your words are… fascinating. I don't mind if you continue." I give her a feeble smile and shake my head again. "Maybe next time we meet."

How will I be able to best explain to anyone how it all works? Mostly, it ran out of hand after we first came into contact with human traders, so devoted to their gods. Then the scholars and later High Priests began thinking about what we would consider 'godlike'. Death, Life, and all Creation, the three ultimate things that we Dwemer wished to unravel and understand.

…Hah, and then it ran out of hand when we became to actually revere those concepts as the god of death and final judgement, Sait'iis, the goddess of life and pure souls, now known as Meridia, and the god of creation and crafts, Xrib.

At least, that's what I think Ma meant when she brought up the subject. If I get such an implicit part of my own culture wrong… The shame would be too much to bear. What kind of Dwemer, especially a scholar's son, does that?

After dropping the subject, I work tirelessly alongside Adrianne for an entire week, first designing, then actually working the harsh and stubborn material. We nearly get into a fight about who gets to work the dragon scales and who makes the fitting – I eventually allow her to make the boots whereas I would make the cuirass.

…We didn't even know if we would have enough for bracers at first. The entire project is a hit-or-miss sort of thing. Eventually, I only left the city to grab a few pieces of dragon bone – immensely heavy but sturdy enough to withstand an axe, as I know from experience, for Adrianne to experiment with.

It takes another three days for me to fully finish the cuirass, by which the Warmaiden herself has interrupted me several times for the fitting of the boots and to get started on the bracers. We work well together after the first few mishaps, and when I'm standing in front of her in full regalia, she cannot help but clap her hands together in glee, eyes gleaming with the fire only a smith can have at the sight of finished work.

"I think we've done it! You were right about using the glass armour as basis for the fittings – it's Light armour, much like your previous set. But far stronger." I smile and nod along with her even as I run through a series of stances and movements, seeing if any parts chafe together or if I have movability issues. She's right – it's a set of Light Armour, easy to move around in, too.

Only my shoulders would have been troublesome, had I gone with the original design of spikes on the shoulder plates. No, the shoulders are fashioned after the ones from a Leather set, flat and smooth. I grin as I do a little twirl to show off the entire set to my friend. "It will definitely do to keep me safe on my way to Ivarstead." Adrianne nods sagely, crossing her arms and leaning against her usual spot, tense lines in her face sharpening for a moment in what may have been concern.

"We're headed to Ivarstead? Nice getup by the way." Jenassa comments as she walks up to us, Anoriath behind her, letting out a low whistle. "Is that made of scales? How fascinating! What creature is it? The size of those things…"

I preen a little before pulling myself back to earth, it won't do to get a big head over all this. I can have pride, but not too much, for it will lead to arrogance.

"Dragon scales." Adrianne answers for me, a wicked grin on her face, like a hunter with a fresh kill. "Now here's a guy that can get things done." She nods approvingly and I return her grin even as I try to cover up the budding guilt in my chest.

"Jenassa, to be fair, I think it's time we part ways." She raises her eyebrows, but agrees stoically. "The roads of Skyrim can get lonely. Seek me out if you need a hand on your travels again." With that, the two visitors leave, and I take my armour off even as the blacksmith next to me sighs.

"Are you sure that it's a good idea to go away alone?" I shrug, not entirely sure myself. "I'll just follow the rivers. Darkwater River to be precise. It shouldn't be difficult. Jenassa herself said I could handle myself a few days ago." Had that been a few days ago? "Or, well, when we were in Falkreath." I amend after thinking on it for a few seconds more.

Adrianne huffs amusedly. "Oh, very well. I think you may not have to travel on your own, regardless. The Khajit caravan is due to moving away within two days' time. You might want to check to see where they're headed." I stare at her for a few moments.

"You know, that might actually be a good idea. But I still have some things to do here, most notably at Farengar's enchanting station. I'm planning on copying my old enchantments with some more powerful soul gems than last time. It should take the rest of the day. I will go see him, and the Khajit, tomorrow." She only rolls her eyes.

"You mentioned a rite of passage, too. What was that about? Will you perform it before you leave?"

My head whips around to face her even as I hold my new apparel close to my chest. A sour taste lingers in my mouth at the thought and I frown. "I… cannot. Not when in company. The ceremony is seen as something highly private. I will wait until I am alone…" on the road, halfway up to the Throat of the World, if need be. She seems to notice how serious I am about it, and wisely drops the subject.

The next day, Farengar wisely lets me pass him to get to the Enchanter. I spot a familiar blonde in armour who's also in the room as the mage as she pours over some stone tablet.

"Farengar, have any Grand soul gems ready for use?" He gestures over his shoulder. "Cabinet to your right. For three, it's 1200, only because you rid us of that dragon earlier and allowed me to gather materials for study." Sweet!

"Oh, hi Delphine." I add, just to be annoying and partially because I'm curious as to her reaction.

She only grunts before looking up sharply. "How do you know me?" I wave a hand at her with a mock-miserable sigh, rummaging around in the cabinet and taking the items I need, dropping my new armour on the table, starting with the cuirass. "The inn, remember? As I said, nothing to worry about from me. I'm headed out in a couple days anyway." I start the enchanting process, promptly banning any disturbances from my mind and setting about perfecting my new items – improved at a workbench and ready to go.

It's a pity that I have to settle for one axe and a dagger until I can somehow find a way back to Markarth and forge a new weapon. Or, if there's any Dwemer ruins close to where I'm headed… Dead Mer need no riches.

The Khajit caravan turns out to be travelling to Markarth. I spend a few long moments weighing the pros and cons of joining them when my destination is closer to the other end of Skyrim before coming to the conclusion that it would not be a good idea. I'll have to put off visiting Ghorza and Ondolemar just a bit longer.

Those Greybeards cause earthquakes, after all, who knows what else they can do.

Regretfully, I decline their offer, but I do stay to talk. Ri'saad is quite the nice guy, and he laughs when I say it. "Rarely, if ever, does this one hear such compliments. Most of Skyrim's people cannot see past the fur. Not even other Khajit."

My heart goes out to the cat, even though I'm pretty sure he's done some shady drug dealings – not because of his race, but because one of the other caravan workers is clearly addicted to something, and she begs the older Khajit for 'it' when I leave.

It isn't my place to judge. Not with what my people have done…

Well, what I'm pretty sure they've done since they all disappeared like that. Speaking of which, that dream hasn't bothered me for a few days. I wonder if it was just a passing sign.

That said, nothing is keeping me from going to High Hrothgar any longer, and I say my goodbyes not an hour later, leaving in the early evening with salutes from the guards I leave behind. I don't pause even as the night falls, and I'm very careful about not losing my attention to the lights of the stars, moons, and brilliant emerald aurora dancing and glittering over my head.

It's quiet, until I get to Valtheim Towers and do not quite agree with paying the toll of 200 coins. I mean, I have the coin, but I'm not paying what's quite clearly a bandit camp in disguise.

…

Jenassa was right when she said I could handle a few bandits, I find out later, emptying their pockets of valuables and taking an Orcish dagger. I take some time to topple the corpses off the bridge connecting the two towers, somehow pushing down the revulsion of dragging corpses down flights of stairs. I'm alone here… I can perform the ritual to receive the blessings of Xrib here. I'm not doing so with corpses nearby.

I shrug off the cuirass, pulling on some simple miner's clothes I'd found instead. On top of the second tower is something like a bedroom with a table – perfect for this. I scavenge the place until I find the needed candles and charcoal. With some difficulty, I light the plain cream candles in a circle, the charcoal used for a crude inscription around the cuirass.

I don't remember the exact details of how the circle is supposed to look, since I only got a glimpse of the ritual chamber once in my life, back in Nchuand-Zel, when I wandered in by accident.

It… It will have to do.

I clasp my hands together and kneel in front of the makeshift shrine, shivering in the cold night air even as the prayer passes my lips. I don't know what to expect. I don't know if anything is supposed to happen, like a flash of light, or a glow, or a gust of wind, or a rumble, or maybe a voice… But nothing happens. I stay in my position for a while, but when no answer is forthcoming and the icy cold seeps deep inside my bones, I sigh and stand up.

I leave the armour where it is, in the circle, the faint glow of the enchantments coming off of it and my boots when I kick them off next to the surprisingly clean bed. There's no more bandits in these towers, and there's a bed in a relatively high and dry spot. I'm disappointed that my work isn't worth Xrib's blessings… I hope I won't have to make an actual sacrifice to get them.

I've heard about the sacrificial altar dedicated to Xrib somewhere out in the mountains of Skyrim, where Dwemer would sometimes sacrifice surface-dwellers… Knowing some of those same surface-dwellers personally, the very thought makes me rather ill. Maybe these people aren't so primitive after all, I've yet to hear about any of them using live sacrifices. Or slaves, for that matter.

I close my eyes, tired from the walk and the late hour – curse the solar cycle – and decide that whatever my problems are, they can wait to tomorrow. I'm hoping that I'm not the Dragonborn. That I'm not… Drak'nakaraat Threinmûr.

The moment that title touches my shoulders, I will fall under its weight. I turn my head to the side listlessly, working myself further into a depressed mood. Tomorrow will tell.

In the early morning, I'm awoken by a pins-and-needles sensation all over my left arm. I groan as I roll over, blearily blinking at the sunlight streaming in from between the broken planks above me. My stomach rumbles, and I turn to the side of the bed to grab some carefully wrapped smoked salmon to start the day. I eat two pieces before my eye falls on the armour, still on the table, where suddenly – I jump out of bed without a second thought, racing up to the armour and running a finger along the new carving reverently. I'm startled to see nearly golden lines creep along the shoulder in what looks like circular carvings newly adorning my cuirass, forming Xrib's sign briefly before fading away, leaving no trace. *

Xrib's Blessings? I sink to my knees again, softly uttering an awed 'thank you' even as my heart soars far above the clouds, like I'm flying – I did it.

I did it.

I DID it!

I'm a true Forgemaster now… and an adult!

Wait until Mellte hears I've…

I've… beaten … him…

…

…Oh.

Right.

My shoulders sag slightly even as my eyes slowly scan the sorry excuse of a room I'm in. Not below comfortable stone, with my people there to guide me or compliment me once I step out of Dwemer-wrought doors.

A sigh escapes me, good mood warring with the knowledge that my Ma will never smile at me proudly, that my uncle won't pat me on the back and say 'well done'. That Mellte won't get agitated enough to work like a madman to catch up…

I smile slightly at the last thought, before donning my armour. It's like it gives me a boost of energy, knowing that I'm wearing the item that made me into an adult under Xrib's eyes.

My smile turns wry even as I pack my stuff and leave with a spring in my step. High Hrothgar and seven thousand steps are waiting for me –

I hope that's an exaggeration, I really, really do.

At least Arn… Meridia will protect me from any undead, and now, Xrib's Blessings will ensure that all my enchantments will be amplified.

I clutch my amulet to my chest with an even larger grin. Wherever you are, Da, Ma, I hope you're still proud of me. Even though I have killed many by now… I hope they will not judge me harshly for it.

My feet carry me along the cobblestone paths towards Windhelm, along the White river. The sun seems to shine brighter than yesterday and I leave the Valtheim Towers behind me, wondering what else will happen. Ivarstead can't be that far… right?

Right.

A/N: This entire Chapter is self-indulgence, I swear. Also, do any of you know the unmarked location Altar of Xrib in Skyrim? I was wondering, since I kind of based my entire Dwemer pantheon on it. At first, it was going to be Mzark instead of Xrib, but then I went like, nah, Xrib sounds more obscure for some reason. Also fuck the tower of Mzark. And Blackreach.

*Think of the circular pattern on the Dwemer contraption in Septimus Signus' outpost.