Yes, it's not Friday yet, but I'm still trying to get back to my original schedule.
Which means I'll have to try and get the next chapter done till next Friday.

This chapter turned out longer than expected because of the 'trick' I did with the titles, so I couldn't cut it in two.
But I honestly don't think that's a bad thing.
I also found out that for some reason my double dashes turn into a single dash when I put it on FFN.
I'll fix that once I figure out how... Just live with it for a while.

And thanks for the comments lately!
I forgot to say thanks in my last chapter so I'll say it now.
I'm always glad to hear what you think and how you like my story.
I always look forward to reading them :)

So, enough talking from me.
Left a few more notes at the end, don't want to spoil anything.
Hope you like this one :)
Enjoy!

…Krev

"You're drinking?!" Of course I'd find Torvar in the basement with a barrel of mead-why was I even surprised? As if Ria hadn't annoyed me enough? "Didn't I tell you to help with the courtyard?!"

"Relaax… I only needed something to warm my belly before I headed out." Of course, he'd refuse to look at me, trying to hide his drunken eyes. As if the smell of alcohol could escape my nose.

"Get your coat and get out!"

"You don't tell me what to do." The audacity, that he had the nerve to bring his mug to his lips again. "You know? You got awfully boring after you got married."

The bench flipped before I realized I had kicked it, mead spilling over his face as he landed flat on his back on the stone floor.

"What's!- What's up with you?!" He coughed as he nearly choked on his mead.

"Everyone here earns their keep! If you want to drink, fine! But, by Ysmir, at least work for your mead before you do!"

"I told you!" He started as he rose from the floor to face me, wiping mead out of his beard with his sleeve. "I already shoveled the stairs AND the path to the Skyforge!"

"And I dug myself out of my own house! You don't see me complaining!"

"I don't see how that's my problem." Did he intentionally try to fuel the anger that already had taken its grip inside of me?

"Why you- You know what?! I have a boring contract from Ivarstead! And, by Shor, don't test me! I'll have you hunt bears for a week! At least you'll be out of my mind long enough not to annoy me! Now get out in the courtyard and help!"

"Fine by me! Heard there are some fine women in Ivarstead!" That smirk. Ysmir's mercy for what I'll do. I could feel the anger race to my face. If the useless waste of air wouldn't do as told, I might as well force him.

My teeth were clenched against my will and my ears heated as I took a step forward and reached for his collar.

Drunk or not, Torvar was quick as he evaded my grab. "Is it a fight you want?! I've been here longer than you!" Seriously? I only felt my anger grow stronger-he'll lift his fists against me?

He threw a fist the moment I, again, invaded his personal space. His fist went past my head as I evaded-the second fist already incoming. A quick movement and I grabbed his wrist, twisting it so his body went past me with the movement. I grabbed him by the neck of his shirt as he went past and jerked him back as I kicked against the back of his feet, sweeping him off the floor. He landed hard on his back-grunting by the impact.

How slow humans were once I allowed myself focus-even when angered.

"By oblivion, what's wrong with you!" He shouted-still on the floor-as I grabbed him by the front of his collar, and began to drag him across the basement floor toward the stairs. "Let me go you lunatic!"

"What are you looking at!" I snapped at Njada and Athis, who stood in the opening to their champers, looking at the ruckus taking place in the hall.

"Nothing…" Njada responded, giving Athis a quick, yet discreet, bump in his shoulder with her fist. "We should continue packing."

I could hear Athis mumble ¨By Asura¨ under his breath as they turned to retreat into the chamber. I didn't care for it as I dragged Torvar past the door.

I ignored Torvar's cursing behind me as I dragged him up the stairs-his hands jerking at my forearm and his feet struggling against the steps.

As we reached the mead-hall, Tilma, Vignar, and Brill all turned their heads toward us. Them too, I ignored as I dragged Torvar toward the courtyard door, still cursing as he struggled behind me.

"Now that's more like it!" Vignar shouted. "Makes me remember the good old days."

"Boys will be boys," Vilma slowly shook her head-though she did wear a smile on her face.

Again ignoring them, I pushed the door open with my free hand and pulled the swearing Torvar out into the courtyard and threw him in the first pile of snow I saw.

"What in Oblivion!" He shouted as he flew out of the snow pile. Ria watched as I grabbed my spade and threw it Torvar who, surprisingly, yet luckily, caught it in his hands.

"Now get to work!" I shouted at him.

I stared down his angered look as he slowly softened and finally, yet reluctantly, turned and pushed his spade into the snow and got to work. The way he shoved his spade into the snow and threw it aside clearly showed he was still pissed. Well, as long as he was working, I didn't care if he was pissed at me or not.

I turned to grab another spade for myself and as I did, I met Ria's eyes. She didn't look angry at me, but I could almost hear the words her eyes gave me: ¨I told you you've started to boss people around.¨

"Don't you start," I sharply replied as I grabbed a shovel to get to work. A slight smile spread across her cheeks, rosy from the frost, as she too turned to work, knowing her message had gotten through.

Except for Torvar mumbling curses, we worked in silence for a while. Though the silence was short-lived as Ria opened her mouth. "You should make Njada a Circle member."

Njada? Really? "You're calling me ¨uptight,¨ yet you want to make Njada a member of the Circle?" I asked, still a hint of annoyance in my voice.

"She deserves it," she continued. "You know what she did?"

"No?" I answered as I kept shoveling, not really paying attention to her.

"She's been working her ass off on both Aela's and Skjor's contracts." That got my attention. I lifted my head to look at her. "Since nobody else is," she added as she noted my look.

"What?" I asked. I already knew Njada had been going through Aela's contracts, but Skjor's as well? "And what made her think she-"

"It's not like that," Ria interrupted with a defend-Njada look. "Like she said this morning, the contracts won't do themselves." Again, not something I could argue against. Still, it annoyed me. "She's also been sending letters," she continued, "To Skjor's contacts, letting them know he's passed… that's why she went through his papers in the first place. To get their names."

That's surprising. I hadn't known she'd done any of all that. "That's… I thought Kodlak would do that."

"She beat him to it," she gave a half-smiling nod as she continued. "Guess even Kodlak didn't feel like entering Skjor's chambers for some time."

That's true. Kodlak and Skjor went way back. Kodlak rarely showed it, but one didn't need to give it any extra thought to realize Skjor's death had affected him more than he would let on-like some others here.

"That's… That's actually kinda kind of her."

"That's what I'm saying," Ria said with a hand gesture. "She's a strong warrior. And no one asked her to, yet she's taking responsibility. She'd make a good Circle member."

I scratched my neck in thought as I looked at Ria. She seemed serious, and she had made some good points. But even so. "That's not my call," I finally said as she waited in anticipation.

"I know. But at least you get a vote in it," she responded as she placed her hand on her hip. "Just take it up with Kodlak, I'm sure he'll listen."

I sighed as I reached for my shovel again. She seemed awfully insistent on this. Had Njada put her up to it? To try and convince me to… No. Njada was the opposite of the kind of woman who'd have others speak on her behalf. She'd probably get pissed if she ever learned Ria had recommended her. "I'll mention it to Kodlak if I get the chance," I answered as I turned to continue shoveling.

"And… one more thing."

What now? I thought as I again turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry for pushing your buttons earlier." She gave a nod toward Torvar, out of earshot as he was shoveling with his back toward us halfway across the courtyard. "I didn't mean to anger you."

I knew what that nod meant. How annoying she could be. But like so many others lately, she wasn't wrong. Torvar always did have a taste for alcohol, but he rarely got drunk before noon. And when I had confronted him he hadn't sounded as cheerful as he usually does, he has never been the ¨sad drunk.¨ And when we had begun fighting-if one could call it that-he had actually sounded pissed at me. It was unlike him. He always fought with a smile, especially with other Companions. In fact, usually the more pissed his opponents were, the wider smile he'd wear.

With a sigh, I straightened my back and turned to look at him-shoveling away. As told.

The word 'lazy' could often be heard when we spoke of him behind his back. But truth be told, he wasn't. After all, he had shoveled the entire front of Jorrvaskr by himself even before breakfast, and the path to the Skyforge. That's almost as large as the courtyard.

He was just… carefree, jolly, a happy-go-around, and liked to get drunk every now and then. Had he sought out to become a bard, he would have been revered. But in a hall of warriors, it was hard to take a man like that seriously. Some here even called him weak at times. I admit I myself sometimes thought of him as such, even if only in my mind. But again, truth be told, no Companion could ever be considered weak.

With all of that in my thoughts as I looked at him, I realized how blind I had been. How easy it is to judge when one doesn't understand. When one doesn't even try to understand.

He had been a Companion longer than me. Knew Skjor for longer. Now that I think of it, I only remember seeing Skjor smile during one of Torvar's lady stories-even if it was a hidden smile at that. How blind I was… stupid even.

In his own way, he too was grieving.

"Torvar!" I shouted across the courtyard.

"What you want?" He responded with a dull voice, still shoveling away.

"I'm…" I never was any good with apologies, Ria's look didn't help as I sucked in air and chewed slightly on the side of my tongue. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper."

"Whatever." As dull a voice as before. Frustrating. His response made me sigh with a clenched jaw and I rubbed my eyes. If I was bad at giving apologies, he was as bad at taking them.

"Listen, I- Next interesting contract I get, I'll take you along to Riften. Okay?" I looked at him as he kept on shoveling, not giving an answer. At least his silence wasn't as condescending as his earlier responses. "And we can bring back a keg of Blackbriar?" That got his attention as he stopped shoveling, but he didn't turn toward us. He just stood there. I suddenly got the nervous feeling I had insulted him.

He turned toward us, wearing his usual smile. "Make that two and we have a deal." Now that's the man I knew. "And that contract better be good."

It was hard not to smile at him. "So we're fine?"

"We're fiine." He waved his hand through the air once, as if he slapped away the problem in front of him. "Besides, you're not the first one to put me to the floor-though the last one that did was naked."

"I'm sure he was." I couldn't help it. Ria's giggling beside me didn't help me keep a straight face, nor did Torvar's look.

"That's not… It wasn't…" He looked both ridiculed and dumbstruck, though with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure," I said as Ria began to laugh. "Now go inside and get your coat, you look cold."

"I'll do that," he answered as he stabbed his spade into the snow and headed for the door. "Back in a bit."

I looked over at Ria, still smiling, as he entered Jorrvaskr.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" She said with a smile.

"Guess not. He always was easy to make friends with."

I looked over the courtyard as I rubbed my hands together. Even with gloves, my fingers felt numb from the cold. Had I gotten to train today, I'd at least kept warm.

We had shoveled away most of the snow, but there was still plenty of work left. I hoped it won't snow again in a while, or all our work would've been for naught.

"Actually, would you mind if you and Torvar took care of the rest?" I asked.

"You're going to leave us to do the rest of the work?" Ria answered judgingly.

"Sorry, but I promised Eorlund to help today. And it's almost noon, so I'm already late."

She didn't seem too pleased as she looked at me-squinting eyes and sharp lips. "Go ahead," she finally said, "We'll take care of the rest."

Reassuring enough, I thought as I turned to head to the Skyforge. Guess she was a little right about me ¨bossing people around¨-even though I don't fully agree-and I didn't really like that.

"Oh yeah," I uttered as the thought hit me and I turned back to Ria-meeting me with raised eyebrows. "How would you like a bear extermination contract?" Her face answered my question before her lips did, as she slowly lit up with excitement. I almost started laughing at her expression. No way she'd say no.

What was this woman's obsession with bears anyway?

"You're late, boy," Earlund said as I walked up the stone steps to the Skyforge, though his voice was more telling than judging.

The Skyforge was glowing hot, as always, and Eorlund stacked iron shields beside it in two large stacks. It always surprised me how easily he handled heavy work. He was around the same age as Kodlak, yet age didn't seem to hold him back one bit. But then again, he had been a blacksmith his whole life, that kind of work tended to leave one strong.

The shields made a heavy sound as he placed those he held on the furthest away pile and turned toward me. He already had soot in his face from wiping away sweat with his even sootier hands, and his thick white hair that hung down to his chest had strands of soot in it as well-at least the front parts that had gotten to close to the forge.

As always, Eorlund worked shirtless. His arms and hands were muscular for a man his age, well, as muscular as you'd expect an aged master-blacksmith to be. But he did have an old man's skin-a wrinkled chest and stomach, leathery and hardened, by a lifetime of heat and work.

He wore his profession to the point his work and identity were one. His frame and soot-covered face and hands loudly said 'blacksmith.' Were you to meet him on the streets, not knowing who he was, you'd never question he was anything but. As he used to say: ¨I'm a blacksmith. Any half-wit could see that.¨

I unbuttoned my fursuit and put it on a barrel close by, no need to wear the double layer of wolf-fur when working next to a smoldering pit of molten metal and stone. Even in my short-sleeved tunic, it'd get more than hot. "Sorry I'm late, I got held up with the others and-"

"No need for an explanation, Boy. They're nothing but glorified excuses, and I don't care for excuses," he interrupted, with a hard forehead above his brow.

"Right…" I said as I approached the forge, "…so what's today's work?"

"Shield repairs," he answered, giving a nod to the two stacks of shields. "Seems the jarl's soldiers don't know how to block correctly. They're all cracked."

"The guards actually train?" I asked in humor.

"Not compared to you lot," he answered as he walked over to his forge and grabbed his gloves.

I looked over at the two stacks of shields and could already tell it was going to be a long day. There were easily more than twenty shields stacked on top of one another.

"There's no way we'll get this done today," I said.

"Why you think I asked you for help?" Eorlund answered all matter of factly, holding out an extra pair of heavy leather gloves for me. "So get to work."

"Right," I said as I switched to the heavier ones and walked over to the shields, placing two of them on the edge of the Skyforge to heat them up.

The glowing pool started bubbling as Eorlund pulled the bellow, and fire begun spewing out of the eyes and beak of the eagle statue above us-like a feathered demon with a burning core, fleeing its insides. The heat already burned hot against my skin. "So what was all that shouting about?" he asked as we waited for the shields to heat.

I didn't really feel like getting into it, but… "Nothing really… Ria lecturing me and Torvar being Torvar, I guess," I said as I grabbed one shield with two tongs and briefly dipped it into the forge.

"Always did have a mouth, those two. Torvar more so," he said.

"Actually, Ria was the one who did most of the talking today."

"Mhm… some people don't know work requires silence."

Finally, someone who got it. I always did get along well with Eorlund.

The shield I had dipped was already glowing red from the heat. I placed it on the anvil and held it in place with the tongs as Eorlund took his hammer to it. First, we needed to hammer together the crack, then it needed reheating for the crack to meld shut.

The sparks stung against my forearms as Eorlund struck the shield, making me grimace briefly as they burned my skin, yet Eorlund showed no reaction to the sparks that bounced off his naked chest. I figured his skin was used enough that he no longer felt them burn-or he simply ignored them out of habit.

I reheated it for a moment as the color in it had begun to turn yellow and again placed it back on the anvil for Eorlund to continue.

"This will take a while," I muttered to myself before turning my attention to Eorlund. "Why don't you equip the guards with Skyforge steel?" I asked. "Then you wouldn't have to work repairs on anything again."

"You daft boy? Then how would I get paid?" He answered, again all matter of factly, without taking his focus of the work. "And soldiers die all the time. Imagine bandits or the likes getting their hands on my steel." I agreed as I watched him work for a while. "No. Skyforge steel is for the Companions only, that's the way it have been since the time of my clan-fathers. And I'm not one to break our ancient traditions."

With that said, he gestured for me to reheat the shield. And again I dipped the shield in the forge as the crack had been hammered shut, melding it together, before I put it aside and reached for the next one. And once that one was done, the next one. And the next one. And so the hours went past. One slow shield at a time.

The sun had already begun to go down as we finally had finished the first stack of shields and darkness would be upon us in an hour or two. I had missed lunch long ago, but I might still be in time for dinner.

"We'll continue tomorrow," Eorlund said as he walked over to a pile of snow that was far away from the forge enough that it hadn't melted. "Always did prefer working the forge in winter," he said as he grabbed some snow to rub over his arms. "Easier to cool off."

True. But that didn't mean the summers were warm. Whiterun summers were odd like that-the sun got warm enough to melt away the snow, yet the winds could still bite as they blew over the tundra fields.

I looked at my own arms as I walked over to do the same. My skin was slightly scorched red from the heat, but at least they hadn't blistered. When I first started helping Eorlund, I always had blisters from the heat afterward. Guess my skin had toughened up over the years as well, though not like Eorlund's-his skin never reddened from the heat. At least my arm hair will grow back.

I looked up at the eagle statue, guarding over the Skyforge, as I rubbed my forearms. "I don't think I ever asked."

"What's that, boy?" Eorlund asked as I got his attention.

"Your ancestors been taking care of the forge since Whiterun was founded."

"Since the time of Ysgrammor, aye."

"So who built the Skyforge?"

He rubbed his beard for a moment before answering. "When I was a lad and trained under my grandfather, bless his soul, he told me the Skyforge have been here since the beginning of time." Still rubbing his beard he looked at the statue as well. "But were I to guess, I'd say the elves made it."

"The elves? Why do you think that?" I asked curiously as I looked at him.

"Because of that," he said, pointing at the statue.

"The eagle?"

"The elves were here long before man, and they prayed to some god of their own depicted as an eagle… Still do." I looked back at the statue for a moment. It was well made considering its supposed age. "Ever seen elven armor?"

"No."

"I can't deny their craftsmanship is good, but it's more decorative than practical. They have eagle heads and wings all over their armors to honor that god."

"So the elves built the Skyforge?" I asked, again looking at Eorlund.

"Well… my grandfather also told me the elves feared the forge. So maybe they didn't," he answered with a look.

"Feared it?" I asked slightly confused.

"Guess the easiest answer is; no one knows who built the forge. But what do I know? I'm just a blacksmith," he answered, turning away as he walked to a barrel he had placed his coat on and took it on. "If only my sons paid as much interest as you," he mumbled to himself before continuing, I took it as a compliment. "We'll continue tomorrow," he said as he gestured farewell and I too grabbed my fur-suit and prepared to leave.

Maybe there's still some dinner left, I'm starving.

The doors opened just as I was about to grab the handles and I was faced with Ria and Torvar wearing their traveling gear as the came out of Jorrvaskr.

"Where are you going?" I asked, slightly stunned at their sudden appearance.

"Ivarstead," Ria answered with a happy face.

"What?"

"You said I could take the bear contract, so I went through your papers and got it."

What's with everyone going through everyone's letters lately? "Yeah but… I didn't think you'd leave already? It's not far from dark."

"With the carriage, we'll get to Riverwood in a couple of hours," Torvar added.

"Couple of hours? You won't get there till midnight," I stated.

"So the sooner we leave the better. And we can get some shuteye in the carriage," he continued.

"And the sooner we leave, the faster we get to kill some bears," Ria added with a smile.

"The faster we get paid," Torvar corrected as he gave Ria a look. It was unlike him to care for payment, but I wasn't about to point that out.

Just what is this woman's obsession with bears? Getting to kill bears seemed to be her equivalent of a child getting a birthday party. "Eeh… sure. Whatever," I fumbled for better words, but they were already dressed and set to leave so… "Any food left?"

"Tilma's cleaning the tables right now, so if you hurry," Ria said, moving aside and past me.

"I'll get a move on then. Have a safe trip," I said as they began descending the stairs to the Wind District.

"Absolutely," Torvar said with a wave over his shoulder.

I could smell the food as I entered Jorrvaskr, and hear Tilma clear off the tables-plates and cutlery scrambling as she placed them in a bucket of water.

"Am I too late?" I asked as I approached the tables.

"Since you've been working all day I left a plate for you, dear," Tilma answered, still cleaning the table. That was unlike her, she usually let latecomers starve.

"Thank you," I said as I took my seat and reached for the plate and a mug. "Stew?" I asked as I looked into my plate. "I thought you'd make steak, with all the meat I brought?"

"You know Farka's doesn't like stew, so why would I waste steak on you guys alone," she said kindly. "And stew uses less meat, we can't afford to be wasteful."

"Speaking of which," I started as I began to eat. "I need some money to pay Anoriath for the meat. Thought I'd go by on m way home."

"You'll have to ask Vilkas for that," she said as she took a wet rag out of the bucket to clean the tables.

"He won't be back for over a week. I don't think Anoriath'd like to wait that long,"

"Search his room then, he's the one who keeps our coin."

By Ysmir, I hated going through other people's stuff. The thought of it made me sigh in self-disappointment-for what choice did I have? "Guess I'll do that then," I said bitterly as I turned my attention to my food.

The training dummy Vilkas had by the foot of his bed gave me a slight scare as I entered his room, the dim light from my candle had made it seem as if someone was in his room as it fell on the humanoid shape in the dark. After a brief moment of inner cursing, I walked over to his corner table and lit the candles on it with my own. Still, the light didn't fully brighten the room and I didn't feel like lighting his chandelier, or the candles mounted on his wall, since my visit would be brief.

The soothing light revealed a bookshelf next to me and his bed in the corner, past the dummy. He had one section of his room covered off, by a thin wooden screen, that he used to change clothes more privately. I never knew why he had that. If he wanted privacy, all he had to do was close his door. In the last corner, past his door, was another table, a longer one, with two chairs. But I didn't see anything that I figured he'd keep our coin in.

Now where could you keep our coin, I wondered as I began going through his bookshelf and the pullout shelves in his table. But I found nothing. Perhaps the nightstand?

I placed my candle on his nightstand and opened the shelf. There was nothing in it other than a small book with a well-worn leather cover. I hated to pry, but curiosity got the better of me as I couldn't help but pick it up.

It didn't look like a regular book, it was far too thin and the leather cover had no title written on it-or anything else for that matter. And the leather smelled like pigskin-well-made books didn't use pigskin as covers. Had he made it himself? Could it be… a journal?

Again curiosity got the better of me, I almost didn't feel bad for going through his stuff anymore as I opened the book in the middle. I recognized his handwriting, it was a journal all right.

I placed it on the nightstand so the candlelight fell bright on the writing and began skimming through the open page. I got an uncomfortable knot in my stomach as I read on, and a sour taste in my mouth.

I hear children's screams in my ears. Women crying in fear. Old men's prayers turning to panic and plead as the taste of blood fills my mouth. By Ysmir's beard, they sound like tortured animals! Pigs screaming in the night!
It burns like fire under my skin. Scorching pain and suffering, fornicating inside the very marrow in my bones. I can't stand! I can't see! It tears for escape, claws like nails inside my eyes! Molten metal in my mouth and biting frostbite against my heels until they all meet inside of me!
The guilt from the rush… They all die so easily. They never struggle. Forfeiting their lives the moment they lay eyes on me. I grow all warm inside as I chase them.
I don't want to enjoy it… but I do.
Every time I awake in cold sweat, I feel like a murderer again and again as I stare into his eyes, yellow judgment reminding me of what I've never done! For I am not to blame! I've done nothing of what he shows! He's the one to blame! He does it, through me. Doesn't he?

If that was one single page, I didn't want to read the rest. I closed the book and hastily put it back in his nightstand. A dream-journal? Holding the brief memories of the wolf that he shows us in our sleep. I always forget my dreams shortly after I wake-and I figured the others did the same. But I knew Vilkas suffered them worse than others. Why would he want to write them down? Why would he want to remember them?

The wolf can't be trusted. His words spoke in my mind. Was it a reminder for himself? A cruel self-inflicted mantra?

This is why I don't like going through other people's stuff, one always finds something one shouldn't. Best I forget about this. Vilkas wouldn't like knowing I found it.

I closed the nightstand and grabbed my candle as I pushed my thoughts aside. Yes… I better forget about this.

A drew a short breath as I tried to refocus on my purpose here: the septims. Not in any shelves. Then where? Under the bed?

I placed my candle on the floor in front of the nightstand and got down on all four to take a look. The dull-yellow carpet felt rough against my hands as I bent down and looked under the bed.

"Ah," I exhaled as I saw a tiny metal box under the bed, no bigger than a shoe-box.

I grabbed it with both my hands and pulled it out and rose. It looked heavier than it was, as I placed it on the nightstand. It had a padlock-of course it had a padlock. The key was probably lying around somewhere in the room, but I didn't have time to start ravaging through every possession he had-I had already found more than I asked for.

"Better not be Skyforge steel," I muttered as I drew my dagger from my belt to pry it open.

There was a scraping sound as I forced the tip of my dagger into the padlock and a loud metallic crack as I pried it open. "Well, it's not Skyforge steel," I muttered to myself as the padlock fell to the floor. But now I guess I owe Vilkas a new one. Well, so be it.

Is this all? I thought as I opened the box. Other than a blue gem Vilkas hadn't sold yet, there was barely 50 septims in the box. And I needed 20 of them. No wonder Vilkas always complains about the coin.

The others better get paid well for their contracts.

With a sigh, I took what I needed and put the box back under the bed, blew out the candles, and headed back with my own.

"Found what you needed?" Tilma asked as I came up from the basement. She was done with the tables and had now begun sweeping the floor.

"Sure did," I answered as I walked over to the table, blew out my candle, and placed it down on the clean table. "And now, I'm heading home." I reached for my gloves by my chair and turned to grab my cape. "Hopefully Anoriath is still at his stand, but I doubt it." Now where's that damn cape?

"There's always tomorrow, dear. I'm sure he won't mind" Tilma said as I looked around for my cape.

"There's always that…" I mumbled, bending over to look under the table.

"Lost something?" She suddenly said with curiosity as she watched me fumble on my knees almost under the table. This would be easier if I weren't so big.

"No I-" I hit my head on the table edge as I tried to get up. "By Ysmir!-" I cursed as I rose, rubbing the back of my head for the pounding pain. Tilma was only smiling at me as I looked at her, broom in hand. I felt pissed and ridiculous at the same time. I took a deep breath as I rubbed out the fading pain and cursed internally at myself before I looked back at her. "Have you seen my cape?" I asked. The sound of my voice did little to hide my annoyance.

"Not since this morning, dear," She answered as calmly as always.

"Well by Ysmir, it'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'm going home." With that, I headed for the door. Still annoyed by myself.

"I'm sure it will show up, sooner or later."

It had almost gotten dark outside as I exited. But the sky still had a yellow hue toward the sunset, slowly turning red. It'd be dark within the hour. The stairs were as slippery from the ice as they had been in the morning, and I walked slowly down as I began to hear Heimskr shouting the same prayers to Talos as he had been doing this morning. How did he have the energy for it?

I gave him a nod, as always, as I passed. And he returned my nod by preaching even higher, surely hoping I'd approach to listen. Something I never did.

The area around Gildergleam was empty of people, not even guards were present. But most people that didn't go home gathered at the tavern at this hour, guards included. To keep the peace, they'd say. But they usually drank as much as most others.

More icy stairs as I headed for the marketplace. Sure enough, there were people on the tavern balcony as well as the sounds of singing and music from the inside of it. There were still a few stalls open in the marketplace, trying to sell the last of their wares to the, now drunk, crowd. But I didn't see Anorath by his stall, I figured he had either gone home or to the tavern as well.

Guess I'll have to pay him tomorrow then.

The small streets were easier to walk now-the snow had been trampled down or shoveled aside over the day. There were lights in the windows as I passed the buildings, smells of dishwater and supper being prepared, and charcoal and smoke as people warmed their houses for the night. And as I moved on, my own house came into view-dark windows and cold chimney.

Maybe I should've slept in Jorrvaskr tonight? At least that place had been warmed over the day.

I took out my key from my pocket and put it in the cold lock, turned it, and opened my door.

The inside felt as cold as the outside, without the wind-not that there had been much of a wind today. It was dark, but I knew the place more than good enough to find my way to the fireplace.

I got down on my knees in front of the fireplace and reached for a log, and my dagger to scrape off some bark. It didn't take long until I had scraped off enough to have a small pile of it in the fireplace. I reached for the flint above the fireplace and brought it down to the dry bark, and scraped my knife against the flint to light the bark with the sparks that came. It always took a while, but eventually, I had a small fire going that I fed some twigs and the log I had scraped the bark off.

I rubbed some dust off my knees as I rose and grabbed the candle above the fireplace to light it with the growing fire. The place wasn't that dark anymore, and I could already feel it beginning to warm up, as I put the candle on the kitchen table and grabbed a bucket to get some snow.

The place had definitely gotten warmer as I opened the door and met the cold air. I heaved the bucket through the snow beside our door and brought it inside, placing it next to the fireplace to melt. I still hadn't gotten the time to wash my face after helping Eorlund earlier today-and I wasn't about to go to sleep with soot and sweat in my face.

I added another log to the crackling fire and took a seat at the table as I waited for the snow to melt. And for a while I did nothing but stare into the fire, slowly drumming my finger on the table as I waited. There wasn't much else to do since there was no one else here to talk to.

I had almost forgotten about Vilkas's dream-journal as my mind wandered with nothing but the crackling from the fire to listen to. But the realization I had forgotten, only made me remember it again.

Vilkas never made it a secret he didn't like being moon-born. But he was moon-born. At some point, he had accepted the gift-or curse-from someone, willingly. It was afterward he had changed his mind. I wonder if that journal had something to do with it. I always forgot the dreams shortly after waking, being left with nothing but the horrid feelings they left behind and a sensation of sleep-deprivation. I wonder… If I too would remember my dreams? Remember what my wolf did when in control? Would I too change my mind?

The wolf can't be trusted. His words again spoke in my mind.

I sighed at the thought as I turned forward to face the table and look out the window, placing both my hands flat down on it. My right-hand landing on paper drew my attention from the window as I looked down.

A letter?

I don't remember leaving a letter here? It was blank as I picked it up and turned it over, nothing written on the back either. Had Ysolda left it here for me? And I'd missed it for days?

Confused, I searched my memory for any moment I could have seen it but missed it-but found nothing-as I opened the envelope and took out the paper inside. It was folded over, yet there was something written on the outside of it. I recognized it even before I folded it open and turned it the right way.

It was my letter. The one I had given Ysolda to give to my mother.

Had she left it behind? No, she couldn't have. I gave it to her right as she left with the khajiit.

Even more confused, I flipped the letter over only to be met with even more confusion. There was a drawing on the back and something else written.

It was a detailed drawing of a map, depicting Whiterun and the surrounding areas. And there was a black X placed on a spot just a bit north-west of the city, no more than two hours away. I looked down at the writing below the drawn map.

It was cursive. Beautifully so. The letters flowed, circled, and intertwined one to another to the point I couldn't believe the pen had ever left the paper. It was only two lines yet I couldn't even read it at first. I wasn't used to reading cursive, and even if I had been, this writing was the cursive of cursive.

It took me a while to make out the letters. But as I did, all my confusion was answered. And that answer made my throat clam shut as it took a cold grip around my heart, slowing my heartbeats as it began to squeeze. The air in the room felt heavy as the feeling of pressure pushed on my entire body, hindering me to breathe to the point my stomach coiled inside of me and my mind went blank.

The moment I saw your ring, I knew we'd meet again.

Signed from, your beloved, Krev.

Fear. Nothing but panicked fear spread inside of me, like a parasite-feeding on every other emotion until nothing but it remained.

My chair tipped over as I pushed myself up from the table, the letter dropping from my hands. Reason fled my body as I rushed to the door, tearing toward the exit to leave, knowing only the one thing everything inside of me so painfully pleaded for.

Ysolda.

Been waiting a long time to get some Skyforge Lore in here :)
And I really liked writing about Eorlund.

And I wonder how many of you noticed the foreshadowing in the ¨Krev the skinned¨chapter.
When she saw his ring ;)