Chapter 6

Rats, Dreams and Dragons

XxXxXx

It was night by the time Nevano emerged from the cairn. The Skyrim night sky was absolutely gorgeous. The crisp cold air seemed to accentuate the stars. Masser and Secunda hung big and clear in the sky, even closer to Nirn up here in Skyrim than they were in Cyrodiil. But what really captured his attention was the lights. Pink tinged green lights curled in shimmering ribbons through the night sky. Nevano had only heard stories of the Northern Lights before but this was his first time to see them. But as much as he would love to star gaze for a while, he was completely exhausted and with his head still pounding unmercifully all he wanted to do was find a tree to sleep in before he headed back to Whiterun. He just needed to find a good tree. The tundra had sparse trees that were wind whipped with spindly branches. There were a few copses of proud pine trees dotted here and there. He needed to find one such place in the dark. It was far more difficult than it seemed.

Suddenly his ears twitched. He heard the slightest rustle in the grass not consistent with the rustling of the wind. Chaffed fingers ran over the string of his bow he still held at the ready. He had relied on his twin blades so much since he acquired them that the calluses had disappeared. All this recent use was re-cutting them back onto his hands. The process was not comfortable and aching fingers were distracting. Not quite as distracting as the headache throbbing in tandem with his heartbeat but a very close second.

A giant rat leaped out of the grass at him, enormous front teeth bared.

Oh no. No nononono. He did NOT DO RATS! Rats were disgusting little creatures. Every since he was a small child he had harbored a special fear and hatred for rats. They were filthy, disease-ridden, vicious things. They would ambush anything that came near their dens or warrens, sometimes in staggering numbers. It was bad enough that one would pop out of tall grass but when several came flying out, there could be some serious trouble. They were quick and could get several bites in before being killed. The bites more often then not would become infected. Nevano had seen people with entire missing limbs when infection had eaten away everything down to the bone. Worst-case scenario was the victim would contract Ataxia, which caused the muscles to stiffen up. If left untreated, Ataxia would paralyze every muscle in the body, including the heart and lungs. Nevano had had Ataxia before. It had been the fourth most uncomfortable thing he had ever gone through. Oh, and rats also carried Blood Lung, Break Bone Fever, Feeble Limb, Red Rage, Rust Chancre, Shakes, Witbane and Witless Pox. Nevano knew every disease a rat could spread. It didn't matter that he could never catch any of those diseases anymore, he didn't want to be anywhere near a creature that could carry THAT many diseases at once.

Which meant that if he didn't have to hang around and actually kill the nasty little things, he would run. Rats gave him the shivers. More than once his guild mates had scared him completely up a tree by throwing a dead rat at him. Nope. He wasn't doing this. He was gone. Running blindly across the pitch-black tundra, praying to Azura that he wouldn't trip over a root or hole and slam head first into rock…again. But tripping and falling in the dark was far more preferable to facing a rat in the dark. Nevano would never admit to being afraid of rats, he had too much pride for that…but every time he saw a giant rat he had flashbacks to being trapped in a cave and picked at by a pack of rats. It was a nightmare that he never could shake.

The tree found him rather than the other way around. One moment he was running, the next he was trying his hardest to not scream Dunmeri curses into the night sky as his nose joined his head in near unbearable throbbing pain. At this point, his pride was as bruised as it had ever been. He was a seasoned warrior but he was just getting beat up like he did when he was a new boot. It was…highly embarrassing even though there was no one there to witness this humiliation. Nevano crawled up the tree, feeling beaten and just overall miserable. He finally found a sturdy branch and was able to relax, his head thudding against the bark. He was fully aware of the irony of a Dunmer being more comfortable in a tree than on the ground but with a giant rat wandering around below he simply did not care. Slowly his body relaxed as exhaustion overtook him.

XxXxXx

Images swirled through his head. Erratic at first but slowly they coalesced into a vivid dream that Nevano could make sense of. He was in midair, being pulled along as if hauled by an invisible rope. Snowy Skyrim landscape flashed by, rugged yet gorgeous. There was a lot of snow, more snow than he had ever seen in his life, entirely too much snow. Fortunately whatever was pulling his conscious along wasn't forcing him to go through the snow, nor feel the cold. The land fell away to ice covered ocean. Very quickly he was pulled beyond even a horker's swim range. He had no idea why he was being pulled out to sea like this but he was more curious than afraid. The ice on the water was slowly being replaced by something else in the water. He was moving far too quickly to pinpoint exactly what it was but it got thicker as he went along. The air changed too. The crisp, clear air of Skyrim was getting thicker. His nose could never forget that smell, thick fiery and powerful. Red Mountain. It was ash in the water, ash from Red Mountain.

Suddenly he came upon an island. A small village with familiar Dunmer style dwellings on it sat on the coast. A great wall stood between the tiny village and the rest of the island. It should have been a rather nice little ocean side village but a dark cloud that he could sense rather than see hung over the island. Something wasn't right.

Solstheim has not prospered as of late.

He felt the words more than heard the words. Solstheim. No wonder it looked familiar. He hadn't been there in a long time but as soon as the name entered his head he could pick out things he recognized. Last he had heard the Nords had given it over to the Dunmer after years of arguing. This had to be Raven Rock. He didn't recognize it at first because it was covered in ash. Last time he had been here it had been a snow covered brand new Imperial settlement for the East Empire Company, barely more than a handful of tents around a hole leading to the ebony mine.

The presence that had pulled him all this way enveloped him, holding him close. Roses. He could smell roses. Their perfume hung in a cloud around him, engulfing him in an embrace. Azura, goddess of dawn and dusk. After a long silence that made him think she had abandoned him totally, she had returned to his dreams. Despite the fact that every time she spoke to him he ended up doing something incredibly insane and crazy, he just felt better knowing she was still there.

The Empire is waning. A new dawn is on the horizon.

As suddenly as she had claimed him, she released him. The rest of his dreams spun out in the utter nonsense but the lingering scent of roses stayed with him. He slept on as the northern lights spun out through the night sky, far more relaxed than he usually did while in a tree and far more peacefully than he had since he had stepped foot in Skyrim. He didn't wake up until the light of dawn hit his face. When he did, the faint smell of roses still hung in the air. So, Azura not only approved of his being here, but she had something in mind for him. For once, that didn't bother him. In fact, he was looking forward to it. He just hoped the deadric prince was patient enough to allow him time to find Truefire and Hopesflame.

A soft rustle made him look up. On a branch not too far above him was a bird nest. A hawk was landing with food for its voracious chicks. The hawk took a moment to consider the Dunmer sharing a tree with its nest. Gold eyes met gold eyes. Then the hawk's attention was diverted back to the task of ripping meat off its prey and feeding the squawking young, not giving the strange creature in its tree another thought. Nevano smiled as he extracted himself from the tree, careful not to disturb the birds further.

The hawk was feeding its chicks a giant rat.

XxXxXx

Nevano placed the fragment on the table in front of Kodlak Whitemane without a word, watching the old warrior's face slowly transform from surprise to well pleased. It was a very subtle shift, barely more than a slight crinkle of a smile barely visible through his beard. His eyes, however, spoke of something else, something Nevano had been hoping for; trust. The man finally held a semblance of trust for the mer.

"I'm sure this was not easy to get." He said with a small smile.

"I prefer to think of it as an introductory to Skyrim's local monsters." Nevano said, "The…draugr? That I didn't expect."

"Ah yes. The draugr are ancient Nordic warriors. Many were followers of the Dragon Priests in the ancient times." Kodlak explained, "When the priests died, their followers were ceremoniously killed, reanimated and sealed in the tombs so they could protect the tombs from intruders as well as continue to worship the Dragon Priests. Many draugr were also set to guard the tombs of nobility or the treasure of kings. They are highly alert to any sort of intrusion into their domain. They never wander from their barrows so no one thinks much of it other than children's stories to make naughty children mind."

"They come in varying strengths I discovered." Nevano had to admit he was greatly curious. It was so similar to the Dunmer practice of tomb protection. "The one that was guarding the fragment was very powerful. It…shouted some sort of spell. I thought my head was going to split in half." Nevano felt a warning twinge of pain in his head just remembering.

"It wouldn't surprise me that some of the more powerful draugr would still retain their powers from the past." Kodlak ran a hand over his beard, "Just like warriors in life, with varying levels of skill and talent."

"There was another surprise in that cave." Nevano sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, "A few rather hostile mercenaries. Extremely paranoid. They were muttering quite a bit about werewolves."

"The Silver Hand." Kodlak sighed. Suddenly the old man no longer looked like a powerful wolf. The strength and vitality seemed to drain from him. He looked every bit his age; stoop shouldered and weary. "A group of zealots."

"I think they are a bit more than that." Nevano said but the fire was gone. At first he had planned on carefully placed accusations to squeeze an outright confession that there indeed were werewolves among the Companions, just to hear the confirmation of what he already knew, but seeing the old man just look so defeated made him feel…bad. "I understand hidden motivations. Everyone has them. As long as I'm not going to get eaten or, most of all, bitten during our dealings with one another I promise not to bury a silver dagger in someone's eye."

"You…are the most unusual elf." Kodlak studied him carefully, "Not many, especially an outsider, would just accept this. But, no, you will not be bitten or eaten. We truly are honorable members of society, carrying on the traditions of the Five Hundred Companions, of Ysgramor. This…curse was a trick that befell us a long time ago. I've been trying to find a way to eliminate this taint from our order."

"Well if you ever come up with the answer I'll gladly lend a sword in helping you."

"An honorable offer."

"I'm not offering it for the Companions. Some of them have embraced the beast." Nevano distinctly remembered those predatory eyes searching for any sign of weakness in him, "However, I can see that it's important to you and you have offered to help. From what I've seen of this rather savage land, that means quite a bit."

"Definitely an unusual dark elf." Kodlak laughed a bit, "Well I wish I could have been more help to you. Granted it has only been a few days but none of my usually reliable sources of information have heard a thing about your weapons. As unique as they are any sort of information would have stood out."

This was what Nevano had been afraid of.

"Since you have…hinted at our secret, I must ask you about one of yours." Kodlak pulled a book out of a shelf behind him. "Athis has been going on and on about a ring of yours. I must say it piqued my curiosity. Not many here have a great interest in history, outside the history of the Companions, and they carry even less interest in the lore of the dark elves. But you…you are unique. There's far more to you than a simple traveler who got caught at the border. Many people have come through these halls, some highly respected warriors, and many were civilians. None of them have had the insight that you have shown nor the fortitude. You went through Dustman's Cairn by yourself. Not even the best warriors here would do that."

Nevano finally smiled. So he had been right all along. The wolf was far more than he appeared. Instead of relying purely on the brute strength and savagery that came with the beast blood, he still relied on the things that made him human: his mind.

"Only one ring fits that description." Kodlak held up a book. Nerevar Moon-and-Star. Nevano snorted a bit. Oh he was very familiar with that book. Caius Cosades had made him read that book, along with several others, until he was satisfied that Nevano was intimately familiar with the Chimer general. There had been several arguments over that. Actually, Nevano had done nothing but argue with the spymaster. He rather missed their lively debates.

"That's because there's only one ring like it." Nevano held out his right hand, revealing his ring One-Clan-Under-Moon-And-Star. "This ring once belonged to Nerevar. Now it belongs to me."

"So Athis wasn't just running his mouth. You are the Nerevarine."

"I am." There. He finally admitted it. For the first time in years he was finally able to say it out loud. "Most Dunmer don't get excited over nothing. He saw my ring and knew exactly who I was. But what I used to be doesn't matter right now."

"Who we are, and who we were, always matter." Kodlak interrupted, "You might not think so, but it IS who you are. Don't deny what you are…it'll always come back."

That hit Nevano like a physical blow. Those words were echoing in his mind, except the voice in his head was that of Modryn's. It was one of the last lessons he had gotten from Modryn. He had been going back and forth between Cyrodiil and Morrowind and the constant traveling and constant stream of problems people wanted him to solve had been wearing him down. It was the first time the thought of running away from all that had entered his mind. It hadn't been a rebuke, but a firm reminder that no matter how much he had been through, it defined who he was now. He had forgotten that…and had forgotten that lesson. By Azura how could he forget that?

"You should talk to Jarl Balgruuf." Kodlak's voice broke through his reverie, "He might have more information than I can provide."

Nevano nodded, "Thank you, Kodlak."

"I should be thanking you. Good luck on your quest."

Nevano left Jorrvaskr and turned to look up at Dragonsreach. He had plenty of daylight left to go up and plead his case to the Jarl. But to be honest, getting a hot meal at the Bannered Mare sounded far more appealing. That and he wanted to get to know Saadia a bit better. And test the structural integrity of the beds.

XxXxXx

The next morning Nevano made his way to Dragonsreach. He had spent all night with Saadia and a set aside a little bit of time to ask her about the Jarl. She had warned him than Jarl Balgruuf was an impatient man, but cared greatly for the people in his hold. He wasn't particularly worried about that. He had faced far more intimidating leaders. King Hlaalu Helseth instantly came to mind. That had been a very nerve wracking experience. He rather doubted he could find a Jarl here who was as conniving as that particular fetcher. Still he wouldn't let his guard down. He didn't want to be sent into a draugr-ridden hole again. He had had his fill of that particular brand of adventure to last his whole visit in Skyrim.

As he walked up the steps to the keep a young Nord came galloping up the stairs behind him, nearly knocking him into the stream that ran alongside the staircase. Nevano nearly snapped off a curse when the kid spun around to apologize. His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. That was a familiar face, with bright green eyes framed by scraggly brown hair. A face he didn't expect to see again.

"My apologies…Hey I didn't expect to see you here!" Yup, that was the same kid alright. The same goofy boy who had escaped Helgen with him. Nevano couldn't remember his name or why he had been arrested. He did remember that he wasn't a part of that Stormcloak rebellion thing. He was just a goofy kid with a happy outlook on life, much like a puppy. Nevano was happy to see that. Belatedly he realized that the Nord was already telling him all that had transpired recently like they had been best friends all their lives.

"Well…this whole dragon thing is a mystery. No one knows WHY they're coming back. Dragons were supposed to be dead and gone for thousands of years." The young Nord explained, "So I decided to help. I mean, I can't just let dragons destroy all of Skyrim. Remember those creepy looking ruins we saw after we escaped from Helgen? I was asked to go in there and find this…map thing. I was told it would help figure things out with the dragons. Not sure how though...I wasn't paying attention."

"You went into a barrow on your own?" Nevano asked, "Oh so you CAN fight after all?"

Nevano laughed as he watched the young Nord stutter. In Helgen his performance had been…short of amazing. Nevano gave him a break in that Helgen had been stressful and he was pretty certain everyone had been in shock but when your life was on the line, you better fight like hell. He was glad to hear that this kid could fight and survive. Bleak Falls Barrow…even the NAME sounded horrible. He had found unpleasantness in a hole in the ground. He didn't want to think what kind of undead surprises were in that massive tomb.

"At least you changed out of that Imperial armor crap."

"You don't like the empire?" Nevano caught the tiny edge in his voice. It wasn't suspicion, more like he sounded heartbroken. Poor kid…he had no idea.

"The empire and I have been at odds for a very, very long time." Nevano said, "This latest insult was just one more in a long line of irritation. But I said that because their armor and weapons are always crap. They give armor smiths massive orders at the last possible second. Even the best smith in Nirn can't make quality weapons that fast in that vast amount. I could split that armor or chip an Imperial sword with something made by a Dunmer apprentice playing with cheap iron. So yeah…you shed that Imperial crap."

"Oh, well yeah I did." The young Nord looked down at his steel armor. He simply could not keep up with the Dunmer's quick mind, "I see you found your armor too."

"The armor yes." Nevano nodded, "But my swords are still missing. Irreplaceable. I'm still looking for the thief."

"Well Balgruuf will know. He's a good man, a strong warrior." Nevano shook his head as the Nord bounced off up the stairs like a little kid. These Nords…always judging others based on their status as a warrior. Apparently intelligence and skill meant nothing. Humans...

XxXxXx

Nevano wasn't so sure how he ended up jogging down the road alongside an over enthusiastic Nord boy, a few soldiers and the Jarl's…housecarl? He couldn't remember if he heard that right or not. That wasn't a title he was familiar in addressing to another Dunmer. He wasn't sure how he got roped into helping but now he was headed out to a watchtower to go kill a dragon. At least that's what they were told they were going to do. He had seen what a dragon could do. He wasn't overly optimistic about their chances. But that boy was just so damned positive about the whole thing that every fetcher in the room believed him when he said they would kill it. So, like everyone else, Nevano found himself agreeing. This…was bull netch crap.

"The tower! It's on fire! Look at the smoke!"

Nevano snarled to himself, desperately wanted to tell the idiot soldier that, of course the damn tower was on fire! There was a dragon that could breath FIRE flying around somewhere. Did he expect to find the dragon curled up like a dog on the ground just waiting for them, wagging its tail and wanting to play fetch with a tree?

Just then a soldier staggered up, his tabard still smoking. "Dragon! It destroyed the tower and killed everyone and just flew off!"

"Alright everyone, this is it." Irileth, the housecarl, said, rolling her shoulders, "Stay alert. When we get to the tower, search for survivors. I doubt the dragon is gone for good."

Again Nevano wondered just what was wrong with him that he was STILL going along with this insane plan. They were willingly walking into a destroyed tower where a dragon was actively stalking, looking for man to kill…or eat. Did dragons eat people? They had to eat something. Any flying lizard that big obviously had to have a big appetite and humans were pretty numerous, not to mention a lot slower and easier to catch than most of the wildlife around here. If they ate giant rats Nevano was going to petition to save the dragons.

The tower was, as the soldier proclaimed it to be, destroyed. Much like the structures in Helgen, the heat from the dragon's breath had disintegrated much of the mortar, causing the entire structure to be compromised. Massive chunks were knocked clean off the tower from either a massive tail slamming into it or a dragon attempting to use the tower as a scratching post. Anything that was even slightly flammable was burning merrily, a stark contrast to the carnage of burning bodies all around. Some bodies were even bitten in half, entrails strewn everywhere. Nevano wrinkled his nose as the stench of burning flesh hit his nose. Even worse was the heavy musk of dragon bearing down on him, feeling like a heavy weight on his shoulders.

"Dragon! DRAGON!"

The dragon had been stalking them, probably since they had left Whiterun's gates. It swooped up from the south, using the smoke to cover its approach as it bore down on them with all its scaly fury, waiting until the last moment to roar in their faces, scaring the soldiers and deafening those with heightened hearing. It was so close Nevano could smell death on its breath.

"Make every arrow count! We've got to get it out of the sky!" Irileth shouted above the rush of dragon wings.

Nevano wasn't so sure what that would accomplish. Yes, that would put the dragon within melee strike range, but that would put the melee fighters within range of slashing claws, swinging tail, fire breath and, let's not forget, really big biting jaws. This dragon was big enough that he could easily bite a man, or mer, in half with one bite, even with armor on. Judging by the bulge in its abdomen, it had already done so once or twice. So dragons did eat people after all. On the other hand, he could see the point of getting the dragon on the ground; no more fire breath from above and swords stood a better chance of getting through those scales.

All the archers were firing at the dragon, striking it mostly in the belly. Their training dictated they fire at the largest body mass. However, the dragon's belly was covered in thick nearly impenetrable scales. Already it's underside was peppered with arrows, making it look like an upside down porcupine. The dragon didn't seem to even notice the arrows. That needed to change.

Nevano ran through the newly set fires, ignoring the heat. Fire didn't bother him very much. He was a Dunmer after all; fire ran through his veins as hot as Red Mountain. He picked a massive chunk of burning debris, the wooden support beams still poking out of the stones. It was the perfect vantage point. He leaped up on it and pulled out the Bonebiter bow. All he needed was one shot. He knocked an arrow and waited for the dragon to bank in a turn, exposing his target. He didn't have to wait long.

The single arrow flew through the air and lodged itself perfectly in the joint of the wing right next to the back. The satisfying crack of massive bones snapping echoed through the air, quickly followed by the dragon's bellow of pain. The wing crumpled and the dragon tumbled out of the sky, desperately trying to right itself but with no joint to support the wing it didn't stand a chance.

Nevano was thrown from his perch as the force of the dragon crash landing caused the ground to shudder in protest. He landed hard on his left shoulder in the rubble and felt something crack. White-hot pain shot through his arm. Desperately he bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming. He had just brought a dragon to the ground. He didn't need to alert the now very angry dragon that he was on the ground and injured. It was smarter to just stay down at this point. It was the other's turn to do something useful.

Cracking one gold eye open he could see his young Nord friend leaping right at the dragon's head, axe swinging. Funny, he realized, he never once stopped to get this kid's name. And here he was, swinging an axe at a dragon, scoring a strike every time. The dragon, already distracted and infuriated, thrashed desperately, snapping and clawing at air. It couldn't seem to land a single blow. Blow after blow rained down on its head, the axe cutting through the scales and tearing its vulnerable eyes and snout. The Whiterun soldiers were hardly even a consideration; it swatted them over with one swipe of its mighty tail. No, it was just this one persistent warrior it couldn't seem to shake that was its concern. In desperation it opened its mouth, gathering energy for one last breath.

But it was too little too late. Nevano watched in absolute fascination as the stupid fetcher jumped ON TOP of the dragon's head and, bellowing an impressive war cry, buried his axe into the dragon's skull. It drove in deep, through broken scales, through bone, deep into the brain. Blood and bits of scales flew everywhere as the Nord chopped down again and again. The dragon gave one last faltering bellow before all strength left its limbs. It collapsed, blood drenched tongue lolling from its steaming jaws.

All was silent for a several seconds but it seemed to stretch on forever. Nevano couldn't believe he had just seen the goofy kid he had escaped from Helgen with jump on an Oblivion-be-damned dragon and kill it. He KILLED a DRAGON. Nevano was…incredibly impressed.

The dragon's body burst into flames, rapidly disintegrating down to the bone. Then something swirled from the smoking corpse, surrounding the Nord warrior, sinking into his flesh. Everyone stood watching in utter disbelief, the soldiers all had their jaws hanging open.

"Did you…just take its SOUL?!"

"I don't believe it. You're Dragonborn!"

"I can't believe my eyes!"

Nevano tuned out the rest of the banter, watching the Nord. He was staring at the bones of the dragon, in just as much disbelief as everyone else. The mer recognized this scene. This was the pivotal point in fate. There was a reason why this kid, this sweet, goofy, enthusiastic kid, had survived. Not just survived, but thrived where others quailed in fear. He was chosen; he would be the hero Skyrim desperately needed.

DOVAHKIIN!

The very air seemed to split apart as the command echoed down from the mountains. It brought the soldiers to their knees, the sheer power too much for mere mortals. Nevano recognized the power as very similar to what the draugr had used in Dustman's Cairn. Unlike in Dustman's Cairn, it didn't send shockwaves through his head. It was massively powerful but the power was…not malicious. It was merely a call. Nevano smiled; it was calling to the newly minted hero.

"Taking a nap on the job?" speaking of newly minted hero, he was standing over Nevano, giving him a grin that stood out starkly white against his ash marred skin.

"You know us Dunmer. Nords being set on fire, nothing to see here might as well take a nap." Nevano deadpanned, "I figured I did my bit by bringing that winged nuisance to the ground. You handled the rest just fine without me. Not sure what you expected me to do once it was on the ground; smack it on the snout with my bow and tell it to behave like it was a naughty child?"

He laughed and held out a hand to pull the mer to his feet. Nevano winced as his shoulder sent hot stabs of pain through his whole upper body as he was hauled up.

"What did you do to your shoulder? I can see it swelling through your armor."

"I have a bad shoulder. It'll be fine in a few days."

"Well, let's go back to Whiterun and tell the jarl what happened!" the young man was practically bouncing in place, transforming from the warrior who had just killed a dragon and absorbed its soul to the goofy kid that Nevano had seen running off with the fairy tale thought of being a hero in his head, "These things can be killed! We can win this!"

Nevano smiled, remembering another piece of wisdom Modryn had imparted to him, "If it can bleed, it can die."

"Jarl Balgruuf will be happy to know that!"

Nevano gave wry smile. "You know…stupid thought at a very stupid time but you know, I never got your name."

"Heh, I never got yours either." The boy rubbed at his neck sheepishly, "I'm Gunjar."

"Nevano."

"C'mon, we need to get back to Whiterun!" Nevano watched wearily as Gunjar took off at a run. Did that kid not WALK anywhere?!

XxXxXx

There were plenty of bad habits that Nevano had picked up over the years. Not fully paying attention during lengthy conversations was near the top of the list. It had gotten him in trouble many times but he couldn't help it. Lengthy talks bored him. Thus Nevano didn't pay particularly close attention to Gunjar's and Balgruuf's conversation. He caught bits and pieces, heard something about the Greybeards that lived at the top of the Throat of the World. He also heard that Gunjar might be something called the Dragonborn and that the word they had heard echoing through the sky, Dovahkiin, was the Greybeards commanding Gunjar to climb up the mountain. He saw the flash of doubt and fear in Gunjar's eyes be taken over by the warrior's determination. The boy was growing up quickly…and Nevano knew that the next time he saw Gunjar, that inner child would be completely gone. For some reason that made him incredibly sad. Granted he knew that that would probably save Gunjar's life but to lose that innocence was a loss that could never be recovered.

Once again, his bad habit got him in trouble. Nevano never noticed everyone's attention suddenly turn towards him until the Jarl spoke to him.

"And you…the men were telling me you were the one that shot the dragon out of the sky. Is that true?"

"It is." And the reason he never bothered to fix his attention issue was because he almost always recovered quickly enough that no one noticed…or cared to notice.

"With one shot?" Balgruuf sounded impressed but it was tempered.

"The soldiers were shooting at the largest body mass. That dragon's scales are thicker than dwarven armor." Nevano said, "So I shot at the wing joint. It doesn't improve the thing's mood once it hits the ground though."

"I'd say not." Balgruuf looked the Dunmer over, "Your accent isn't like the Dunmer who live around here. You are not another Morrowind refugee?"

"Cyrodiil. I was caught at the border with Gunjar." Nevano couldn't stop his distaste from entering his tone, "I simply crossed the border and the Imperials wanted to put my head on a pike."

"The soldiers always have their reasons." The weedy man to the left of the jarl started to pipe up but Nevano cut him off.

"I understand border patrol but I've been crossing borders all across Tamriel for a long time and never once have had this issue. It's a bad day in the Empire when innocent citizens can't travel across her without being in fear for their lives from Imperial soldiers. Are they going to protect citizens or are they going to slaughter every innocent who is in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"Enough." Balgruuf interrupted them, "Proventus this is an argument for another time. As for you…it seems the gods have something in mind for you yet to spare you along with our young friend here. I don't know quite how to reward you for helping save Whiterun from that dragon."

"Information." Nevano said, "I had two swords stolen from me in Helgen. I'm simply looking for any information I can follow to get them back."

"Not sure what information would be helpful." Balgruuf frowned, "There were very few survivors from Helgen. There were maybe one or two civilians and a handful of soldiers that were outside the village walls. However I have received word that General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak both escaped Helgen. Other than that I can't think of who else would have managed to escape other than you two."

"Wait! Wasn't that Thalmor elf there too?" Gunjar spoke up suddenly, "When the prisoner carts first arrived in Helgen we saw that Thalmor with General Tullius. That Stormcloak soldier was complaining about them, remember?"

"The Thalmor were there?" Balgruuf frowned even more, "That had to Elenwen. If Tullius had captured Ulfric then she was sure to be there with him. Slippery bitch. She would have escaped and cover it up so that it would seem like she was never there."

Nevano remained silent but was seething inside. He rather doubted Tullius would have taken the time to order his men to go through the chest, not while the prisoners were still alive anyway. It would have been an order for later. Ulfric he definitely counted out. The man had been a prisoner and had been looking to get away just as much as Nevano had been. That left one. The one faction on this planet that Nevano hated the most had gotten their hateful little paws on his swords.

The Thalmor had Truefire and Hopesflame.

XxXxXx

A/N: I told you I make up for short chapters.