"I'm not here as a student. I am the Dovahkiin and searching for information. Please direct me to your library."

The stern woman pursed her lips. "Well. Just inside the main doors to the left. Go up some stairs and you'll find the library and our librarian Urag go-Shub. And if not, apologies, you're in the Arch-Mage's quarters. I always get my right and left mixed up." She turned on her heel and walked stiffly away, so much so that Elana got the distinct impression that she did not get her simple directions confused.

So when Elana stepped into the Hall of Elements, she chose the door on her right.

Her gamble proved correct as she was greeted by a room full of shelves full of books, though almost devoid of living beings. A stern Orsimer glared at her from his desk, her footfalls the only noise in what had previously been solitude.

The librarian, no doubt.

The wolf whined.

Now you make your presence known. I was almost enjoying the relative silence in my head. But no, I am not yet going to Whiterun. Sorry.

"Drop the act, stranger. I know who and what you are. There's magic radiating off you in waves and it's not the kind we get around here. So welcome, Dragonborn, Companion of the Circle, and possibly the only female Thane Whiterun has had for living memory."

"I like him."

Shut up.

"So eloquent you are."

"Are you going to tell me why you're here in my Arcanaeum or are you going to stand there like a mute idiot? I don't appreciate people wasting my time."

Elana shook herself. "Apologies, sir, not many people see through my disguise."

"I'm well practiced at reading between lines. A Khajiit or Argonian would simply smell all that off you, and maybe a few of my kin would as well. So are we simply discussing your guise or do you have an actual reason to be here? I know a Khajiit that would be happy to talk to a girl."

"I need an Elder Scroll."

The Orc narrowed his gaze. "And what makes you think that I have one, or that I'd let you take it even if I did?"

"Considering this is the hub of magical knowledge, I figured I should look here. As for the second bit, I am the Dovahkiin. The soul of a dragon pulses in me, giving me a magic I'm sure you would love to write about. I am the only one who can defeat Alduin, the World-Eater, and save all of Tamriel, not just Skyrim, from fiery and certain destruction. The leader of the Greybeards, the mighty Paarthurnax, sent me to acquire an Elder Scroll so I can learn an ancient Shout lost to time that will help me defeat the Prince of Destruction. So if you have an Elder Scroll in your possession, you will cease to be an overbearing, overprotective librarian and let me do my job! If however, you lack the incredibly rare magical artifact, I have no doubt that you can point me in the direction of a scroll. I'm not looking to collect them all, just one. Do me, your College, and the entire bloody world a favor and get me an Elder Scroll!"

The librarian blinked, stunned.

"Ah, little one. You finally begin to dominate as your dov blood desires."

I will dominate you if you don't stop distracting me! You're a great help, yes, but keep your scaly, ethereal mouth shut when I'm trying to listen to the outside world.

Mirmulnir withdrew into silence, though not without an air of smug satisfaction.

Urag, meanwhile, had bent down and retrieved two books from beneath his counter. "These should help your search. Unfortunately, I myself don't have a scroll, though I'd gladly roam the world for a chance to find one." Effects of the Elder Scrolls and Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls shone up from the counter. Elana picked up the latter and started to flip through it. "Don't get your hopes up; it's mostly lies leavened with conjecture."

"Who wrote this?"

"Septimus Signus, a former member of the College. He departed after going mad, claiming that it was caused by an Elder Scroll."

"Where can I find him?"

Urag hesitated until Elana leaned forward. "North of the College, almost straight north of here. He lives alone in an outpost. You can find him there. But I warn you, he might not say anything sensible."

"I'll take my chances. Thank you for your help."

She almost made it to the door out of the library before another man appeared, dressed in somewhat ornate robes. "Ah, so this is the non-student Mirabelle told me of." He offered a hand. "Savos Aren, the Arch-Mage of the College. You put my Chief Wizard on edge."

"Elan, Thane of Whiterun and Dragonborn. Apologies."

"She said you were short with her. I imagine your throat causes you problems. A Restoration spell could help you. Would you like me to try?"

"Tried before. Is there something you would like from me?"

Aren smiled lightly. "I just wanted to meet you. I wonder, do you have any interest in joining the College? You have the magic of dragons, and we all have the capacity to harness our life-force into magicka, some just easier than others." At her disagreeing look, Aren continued. "You have a great destiny, great potential, Elan. And it does not only circle around Alduin. These stones call for you, Dragonborn. I think you could do great things here."

"Thank you, but I must be going."

"If you do find an Elder Scroll, feel free to bring it here for safe keeping. We will be most willing to pay a decent sum for such an artifact."

Elana stared back at him in blank shock.

"I am quieter than I appear, Dragonborn." The Arch-Mage turned and moved back towards the door. "And I know which hinges creak and which ones are kept well oiled."

"I like him, too."

Shut up. It's time to head north.

There was too much to think on as Elana sat by the fireside in the Winterhold inn.

First there was the mad man who used to be a mage. Time had not dulled his brilliance; it was simply overshadowed by insanity. She knew where an Elder Scroll could be found, deep in Dwemer ruins.

If I go into Dwemer ruins, I won't be able to carry out everything I want.

"So get someone to help you." The wolf got excited, as if it was running in swift circles about the dragon. "If you can't tell, the wolf supports Vilkas."

Thank you, great detective. Elana dug into her pockets for travel fare as she left the inn. I suppose we can head back to Whiterun and Jorrvaskr. After all, help from the Companions comes free.

Vilkas was lying flat on the table outside Jorrvaskr when the shouts rang out.

Normally, he would have just crashed on the ground, or taken the effort to drag his hide inside, but there was something about today that wanted him outside yet off the earth.

He was sore. Farkas had just given him a resounding beating in what should have been a friendly spar. But it seemed even his good-natured brother got tired of a melancholy disposition and turned up the heat in the fight. He stopped only when Vilkas, bruised beyond sense, finally woke up and sent a decent right hook to Farkas's ear.

"There's my brother back. Take a good nap."

Younger siblings were such a bother sometimes. Though it always helped to get some sense knocked into you.

There was no sense in being sad without cause. If Vilkas had grown melancholy in the last week due to loss, it would have been reasonable. But there was no recent pain or grief to itch at him so. Kodlak seemed to know what was wrong, but refused to say. Vilkas lowered himself onto the table, resolving to cast this shadow off his soul for his brother's sake, at least.

His eyes flittered closed.

"SO'S YOUR OLD MAN!"

By the nine, could he find no rest?

He hauled himself to his feet and wandered down around the mead hall, following the voices. There, next to the tree, stood Farkas and some random citizen, toe to toe and arguing loud enough to bring the dead back to life. If there had been a reason to begin the skirmish, it was lost in the personal attacks being thrown faster than lightning.

As the older brother sighed and started to make his way down the steps to intervene, a smaller figure slipped in-between the two, back to Farkas so as to push the other man away.

Brave soul.

By the time Vilkas was close enough to hear the quieter voices, the aggressor had lost control again.

"I don't need some beardless whelp telling me how to-"

A solid punch to the left shoulder sent the man reeling back, followed by a left blow to sink him down. A well-placed kick tossed him back yet again, whereupon the mediator ripped their helmet off.

"I am your Thane and Dovahkiin, as well as an honored member of the Companions. Would you like to go again?"

The man shook his head no.

"Good. The Companions fight with honor and you would do well to remember that. They fight for Whiterun and all of Skyrim, not one man's personal gain no matter if he's an Empire-renowned general or the Jarl of Winterhold. The Civil War is for men to decide on their own, not for an honorable faction to support. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

The man cowered under the gaze of Elan. "Yes, my Thane."

"You are dismissed. As you were."

Vilkas watched the tension slide from that familiar form as the returned Thane turned jovially to Farkas. The two laughed together as the made for Jorrvaskr.

All the tension returned in an instant when Elana met Vilkas's eyes.

"Well, you're not even home five minutes and you're already in a fight." She bristled at his words and made to snap in response, but he continued, "Looks like someone went off and found their Companion spirit. I suppose I'll have to stop calling you 'whelp' now."

Confusion roared over her features. Vilkas shook his head. "I'll see you inside. Farkas landed some good blows earlier that need looking after."

He was halfway up the steps before he tossed over his shoulder, "Welcome back."