Elder Scrolls, they really exist.

"I have heard such legends but never experienced them myself. If I may apologize, I'm not much help. I'm a little awestruck by Paarthurnax. Had I known he was here, I would have emerged long ago to come to this mountain. I yearn for tinvaak with him."

I'm sorry.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I never would have learned of his existence without you."

Elana looked to Paarthurnax. "Do you know where I find an Elder Scroll?"

"Krosis, no. I know little of what has passed below in the long years I have lived here. You are likely better informed than I."

The Dragonborn paused for a moment and thought. "The Lorekeeper at the College of Winterhold might know."

"Trust your instincts, Dovahkiin. Your blood will show you the way."

Elana bowed deeply. "Then I must depart, master, to seek the Elder Scroll."

"Su'um ahrk morah," Paarthurnax growled and took off, his heavy wings beating as the oldest dragon in Skyrim flew away.

Elana, walking across Skyrim, was becoming too exhausted and cold to move when the wall of a city first rose up on the horizon. It's probably Winterhold. I'll catch a carriage in the morning when the driver and his horses wake up.

"And the Dragonborn still needs to sleep and warm her bones."

Aye.

The guards let her in, blissfully, and she headed straight for the large building through the gates. The sign hanging confirmed that it was an inn, but before she stepped inside, a small altercation drew her attention. Nord men had gathered around a dark elf and appeared to be bullying the woman, calling her a spy.

"Hey," she growled, moving towards the men. "Leave her be."

"What are you going to-" Elana reached for her greatsword. "This isn't over." The ringleader beat a hasty retreat.

"So it seems the leader of this revolt, this uprising that he might be free to worship as he pleases, allows women to be accosted in the street for being born other than a Nord. At least Alduin is consistent and clear in his aims."

That makes it so much better.

With the dragon chirping disagreement in her head, "Elan" bid farewell and good luck to the Dunmer and turned towards the inn. She pushed open the door and the warrior eased herself towards the bar and proprietor.

"A room for the night please, and food."

"That will be ten gold pieces for the room, warrior." Elana handed him the money simply. "And the meal we'll discuss. Your room will be the first on the left upstairs. If you have five more pieces, I'll set you up with some stew and mead."

"Just the stew. Mead makes my throat worse."

The innkeeper snorted. "And that throat's bad enough. Go ahead and set your packs down. I'll fetch the stew."

Elana eased herself down onto a bench, letting her packs rest at her feet. She gratefully exchanged gold for the stew and tucked in eagerly, letting warmth seep through every inch from fire and food.

"Will you look at the hungry lad over there. Ain't even in his whiskers and he's eating like a proper warrior. Will you look at that; he's got a proper sword on his back, too. Did you just come back from clearing out a bandit camp? Or perhaps you slew a troll. It's hard to tell, since there's no blood in your beard. I figure he's here to volunteer for the army. Though Ulfric won't let kids in, like the smart general he is."

Elana looked up at the speaker briefly, eyebrows raised, before returning to her meal.

"Are you mute as well as bald?"

"Perhaps I shave. Not everyone wants to wear a bad imitation of a Khajiit's mane."

Silence fell and the unkempt man stood up and snarled, "What are you saying, boy?"

The Dovahkiin remained seated. "You have an ugly beard. Trim it sometime."

The man stormed over to the calm Elana. "I ought to drag you out of here by your ears and whip you for insolence with the sword Ulfric himself gave me! You watch your tongue."

"Maybe." Elana cleaned her bowl with one final attack with her spoon, finally standing. "But if you get to use your sword, it's only fair I use mine." She drew her weapon cleanly, holding it out securely before her. "And perhaps you should refer to your general with respect, not simply his given name. Friends of the Jarl don't eat in inns." She sheathed her sword.

He swung his fist.

Elana quickly ducked and slammed her elbow into his side. "As a Thane of Whiterun, I could charge you for that. As the Thane that killed a dragon, know that I could kill you for that. But I'd rather have a second bowl of stew."

"If I see you on the battlefield," the man hissed. "I don't care how many Imperials there are. I'm coming for you."

"Since we'd be fighting on the same side, I'd know you had abandoned men that needed you to watch their backs for a personal grudge. And I would not hesitate to strike you down for such a crime against your brothers in arms." She winced slightly, as her attempts at a lower voice grew less and less successful. "Now leave me alone to eat. All this talk aggravates my voice."

The man grabbed her shoulder as she tried to turn away. "The name's Lokor. And it will be the last one you face."

And here I thought it'd be Alduin. She opened her mouth to retort as such, but changed her mind as the second bowl of stew arrived. My first bar fight was a little sub-par.

"You walked away with a new enemy. I'm not sure if that was a success or not."

Well, I'm definitely joining the Stormcloaks now.

"Inviting conflict?"

Daring it to come at me and face its defeat. She finished the stew with gusto and happily paid the innkeeper. She stored her belongings, locked her room, and made her way to the Jarl's palace.

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone and may you all have a blessed holiday season!