Turdas, 11th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

The party awoke to a rainy morning, perhaps half a day's travel outside of Whiterun. With the time it afforded for thought, Yngve's mind drifted back toward home. In addition to being anxious about his inevitable return, he was certainly eager for it. Life in Windhelm had been going on without him now – it must have been – and he found the thought unnerving, as though he was missing out on something. Conversely, he wasn't at all eager to spend an extra day in Whiterun as he had promised to do. But at the very least, he supposed, it meant he was farther along the way home. Although he normally relished days like this one, for the pleasant, calming smell of the rain and its soothing, pattering sound, this time he almost resented it for the time it was costing as they had to wait it out.

The rain didn't stop until mid-afternoon, and the party came to Whiterun in the evening and in high spirits. Yngve led the party to where the Bannered Mare was, but declined to stay there himself. It was too far into the city for his liking. They would meet up again the following morning near the city gates to plan for the road ahead. After they parted, Yngve went to the Drunken Huntsman, where he persuaded the owners to let him sleep on their floor.

After making arrangements for the night, Yngve walked to the Temple of Kynareth. He had almost forgotten he was carrying a letter for Idgrod the Younger. When he arrived, the temple priestess thanked him for the delivery, and thankfully didn't give him a reply. He had dreaded the possibility that he might be asked to play courier again, and he had no intention of traveling west from here. He returned to the Drunken Huntsman to rest for the night.

. . .

Fredas, 12th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

When the party met near the city gates in the morning, Thorald came with his brother Avulstein, who had decided to join them on their way to Windhelm. The two brothers brought with them 350 septims, bringing the group's total to around 1400.

"There's a Khajiit caravan camped outside of the city," Thorald suggested. It was exactly what Yngve had in mind as well.

"I'll check with them this morning," Yngve said. "Any supplies we need that they don't have for sale, the rest of you can buy within the city during the afternoon."

"Should we consider buying a horse?" Avulstein asked.

"I've put some thought into that, too," Yngve said. "It would make the road easier."

"But," Thorald cut in, "having a horse means feeding a horse and taking care of it. We'd have to buy extra supplies. And what will we do if it gets sick or injured?"

"If it dies, we'll have meat," Avulstein suggested in a grim joke.

"A horse would also make us a more attractive target for thieves and bandits," Yngve added.

"I don't really think it's worth the risks," Thorald concluded. The rest of the party agreed, though some of them pretty reluctantly.

The Khajiit merchants outside the city had nearly everything the party would need. They could have easily gotten by with only what Yngve got from the caravan, but Thorald and Avulstein both wanted to be better equipped. They went with the rest of the money to the others and had everyone split up to stock up on other necessities at the general store and the apothecary. Yngve chose to leave it to them and remain in the Drunken Huntsman.

"You're not much of a drinker, for all the time you're spending in here," Thorald commented, as he and his brother were parting company with Yngve. "Why are you so eager to stay so hidden?"

"I'd just rather not have the Jarl known I'm in his hold," Yngve answered, unable to think of a plausible lie. Telling the truth didn't have to mean telling the whole truth. Thorald seemed to accept his answer, and didn't ask any further questions, and with the septims Yngve had left to himself, he decided to stave off additional suspicion by drinking away the hours until he could leave this city and the sense of danger it imposed on him.

. . .

Loredas, 13th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Yngve was the only one in a hurry to leave Whiterun. Just as he was beginning to think his travel companions had all changed their minds and decided to stay in Whiterun, he spotted Thorald leading the pack down the road to meet him at the gates. Finally, they left the city, and finally, Yngve was on his way home.

Perhaps two hours after they began their trek, however, they were delayed by – much to Yngve's annoyance – a damn meadery. He failed to understand the excitement. The mead wasn't going to taste different here than it did from a bottle anywhere else in Skyrim, and Honningbrew mead could be had everywhere. He refused to even let them waste another day here.

"If you all are stopping here, then we part company," he told them flatly. "I'm not stopping."

"Then what do we do about the supplies?" one of the party asked, a Nord woman called Frieda.

"Split them up," Yngve answered, perhaps a little too nonchalantly. Tempers were beginning to rise.

"We only have one tent!" another party member piped up, a man named Jan.

Yes, Yngve thought to himself, and it came with me to rescue you from Northwatch. But before he could even answer back, Thorald stepped between them to break the tension. He and Avulstein separated them and took each aside.

"Just let them have this," Thorald said to Yngve gently. "Remember what they went through at Northwatch. And what they intend to go through when we reach Windhelm. They may never see a chance to come back."

Thorald was right, Yngve realized, and he felt embarrassed at the way he had behaved. What difference would a few hours, or even a day, make? True, he was eager to go home. But that didn't mean he should act like a petulant child. In the end, they stopped for about an hour at the meadery, and then the party moved on.

Late that afternoon, they spied a tower along the road ahead of them. It looked in questionable condition. They were just about to stop for the day, and to consider their course.

"Valtheim Towers," Thorald said, as they began to set up a campsite.

"Full of bandits these days," Avulstein added. "There's a bounty on their heads from the Jarl, in fact," he went on contemplatively.

"We're fugitives," Thorald reminded him, gesturing at the rest of the party. "And you're as good as, if you're known to be in our company. There's no going back to collect that bounty."

"Then it sounds like we have three options," Yngve said. "Run and try to lose them on the other side; do a good deed and clear the place out; or try to find a way around their notice." Given the area they were traveling through, none seemed particularly easier than the rest.

To the left of the road were sheer cliffs dropping down into the White River. To the right of the road were steep hills and mountains. From where they were camped, they could get up onto the high ground, but there was no way to know where they would be able to come back down. Going around could be time consuming, or even dangerous. Though they were a bit refreshed from the stay in Whiterun, their company was surely still not at their full strength. Even when they reached Windhelm, they'd likely still have to recover before becoming active soldiers. Fighting or trying to outrun the bandits would put them at risk of exhaustion, injury, or even death.

"If we can," Yngve said, "I think it might be best to go around." The rest nodded and grunted in agreement. "But trying to go through those mountains could also be dangerous. Why don't the rest of you finish setting up camp, and I'll go up this slope and see if I can find where we could rejoin the road if we go around." Again, he was met with nods and grumbles of agreement, and so, bringing minimal supplies, he was off to scout the way ahead.

When Yngve found his way back to the campsite, it was dark and had begun to rain. He could only hope this weather wouldn't stay around long, as he was keen to avoid further delay. Thorald seemed to read this on his face as he approached the fire.

"Be patient," Thorald said kindly. "You'll make it home." Yngve nodded.

"Did you find us a way around?" he asked. Yngve nodded again.

"We should be able to veer off the road, up a hill, walk a short distance, and then rejoin the road on the other side of the tower," Yngve explained. "The way down the other side will be a bit steep, but everyone should be able to make it."

"That's great," Thorald said enthusiastically.

"We'll have to remain on guard, though," Yngve added. "I passed a giant camp in the area. And there may also be bears around."

"We'll be able to take them if we have to," Thorald said.

. . .

Sundas, 14th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

By late morning, the rain that had started the previous night still hadn't cleared, and Yngve had to resign himself to the loss of another day. Even if they did manage to get any travel in – assuming the weather cleared up later – by this point they wouldn't get very far. Yngve once again contemplated leaving the group and forging ahead on his own, but he recalled the argument they'd had previously, at the meadery, and was reminded that the survival of the group was now dependent on everyone staying together. As much as he wanted to get home, he couldn't leave the group without putting them all at risk. Part of him wished they had all just stayed in Whiterun.

Yngve spent the day's long hours sitting just in the opening of the tentflaps, pining for more manageable weather. Hilde laid her head on his lap and whimpered as the rain and rolling thunder only continued and time passed by. Mercilessly, another day was gone.

. . .

Morndas, 15th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

After the previous day of rest, everyone awoke fairly early in the morning. The clouds parted shortly after dawn, and everyone eagerly packed and prepared to be on their way again. Since Yngve had previously scouted their way around Valtheim Towers, and since they were lucky enough not to encounter any bears along the way, it took little time to follow the detour and avoid the bandits. By midday, they were once again traveling along the cobbled road for the rest of the day.

. . .

Tirdas, 16th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Around midday, they came to a crossroad and decided to stop and rest. After Yngve had eaten a bit of food and chatted enough to have been polite, he split from the group to be with his own thoughts. He climbed on top of a rocky ledge protruding from the steep hillface across the road from their rest site and sat atop it, letting his feet dangle. After several minutes, Thorald approached him.

"I know it wasn't easy for you to wait out the weather," Thorald said, standing behind Yngve after climbing the rocks as he had, "just as it isn't easy for you to travel at our pace."

"Maybe not," Yngve admitted. "But we all have to stay together to survive."

"Half-true," Thorald said with a bleak laugh. "You and I both know that you could make it to Windhelm on your own, in better time. In our state, right now, we're the ones who need to stay together to survive. Especially given that you're the guy who has a tent," he said. "You'd have carried on just fine, even in that storm, but we never would have made it."

Yngve let Thorald's words sink in for a moment, unsure of what to say. Yngve may have spent more than his share of time brooding with his bitter thoughts, but once he realized they all depended on each other, he never considered it a real option to abandon the group – with or without the tent – and he told Thorald as much.

"I figured," Thorald replied to the explanation. "That's what'll make you a good leader." As he said this, they could hear the rest of the party getting ready to travel again.

"Looks like we're about ready to move on," Thorald said. "We should go."

As Thorald climbed back down from atop the rocks, Yngve stood and swatted the dust off of his clothes, all the while pondering Thorald's words. Cautiously, he jumped down from ledge to ledge until he was back on the road with the group.

Down the road that afternoon, the party came upon a lumber mill, curiously empty in the middle of the day. They almost thought it abandoned, except that it had a chicken coop, housing a number of chickens that seemed to be in good condition. There were two houses on the property, though only one looked lived in. In hushed tones, they considered checking the inside of the other house, when they heard a woman's voice ring out from behind them.

"Hey! You lost?"

They turned around to see her standing just outside the doorway to the other house, axe in hand. Simultaneously, everyone raised their hands in a gesture of surrender and began to slowly walk toward her, but she stopped them.

"Uh-uh," she said. "Only one of you. The woman or the boy." She was obviously referring to Frieda and Yngve. After a brief, tense moment, Yngve felt someone's hand pressing against his back, and he took a step forward. The rest of the travel group cautiously backed up to the edge of the woman's property, and then moved to wait across the road. Hilde whined and Yngve insistently gestured for her to go wait with them.

"We're not lost, exactly," Yngve said, slowly closing the distance between himself and the woman. "We're traveling."

"Where to?" she asked, lowering her axe and approaching him.

"Windhelm," he answered simply.

"Figures," she scoffed. "There's plenty of good wood around here, but I can't harvest it all myself, and everyone able-bodied is off fighting." Before Yngve could even begin to formulate an answer, she continued.

"Of course, without functioning mills, who will make the arrows for our soldiers?" she said, eyeing Yngve's quiver pointedly. He was a bit taken aback, and she noticed.

"Sorry," she said a bit sheepishly. "I'm Gilfre."

"Yngve," he replied.

"Yngve," she repeated with a nod, "who is traveling for Windhelm and has stopped at Mixwater Mill looking for food and shelter, no doubt," she said, somewhat mockingly. "Well, you won't find it here…"

"Wait," Yngve interrupted. "Say that again? Stopped at where?" Gilfre looked at him in confusion.

"Mixwater Mill," she repeated.

Yngve almost couldn't believe how quickly they'd been traveling since Whiterun. He hadn't been checking his map as carefully, as it was easy enough to just follow the signs at the crossroads; while he had known all along where they were going, he hadn't really had much of an idea where they were along the way. But Mixwater Mill was a name that he recognized.

"You mean… we're already in Eastmarch?" he asked eagerly.

"That's right," Gilfre said, clearly noticing his excitement. "What's so – " she began to ask, but Yngve cut her off.

"We have our own food and shelter, but we're tired. Will you let us set up our camp at your mill?" Yngve asked. Gilfre looked him over, then looked across the road to his group, evaluating them.

"It's fine," she said eventually. "You may as well sleep in the workers house, too, if you want," she added, pointing to the unused house. "I had five good men, but they all left to fight." Yngve thanked her and crossed the road to tell the others.

That evening, Gilfre joined them. She added some of her food to their stock and they made a large pot of stew for everyone to share. Although she resented the war for taking her workmen, and she perceived them as just more soldiers, she was glad for their company. As Gilfre regaled them with stories of her life, the whole situation started to weigh on Yngve. The rebellion, right or wrong, had made a mess of Gilfre's livelihood. How could anyone be expected to run a lumber mill alone? Were there others in the hold facing the same problem? Eventually, the high mood faded down. Yngve fell into an uneasy sleep that night, with thoughts of the hold's struggles floating around his head.

. . .

Middas, 17th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Yngve woke up early in the morning in a considerably better mood than he had been. Despite the morning chill, he took some time to wash himself in the river, and as he came back toward the workers house he was greeted by an outdoor camp fire, with Gilfre and the rest surrounding it. Together, they ate the most pleasant breakfast Yngve had had in recent memory – not only because of the food (which was greatly enhanced by Gilfre's having something the rest of them lacked: salt), but because of the atmosphere. It was refreshing for the group to have company that hadn't gone through all the traveling they had done together. The way everyone talked and laughed together, it was almost like they all belonged there, and nothing was dire or urgent or wrong.

They stayed much later into the morning than they probably should have, as travelers. But for once, whether it was for the company, for his travel companions, or for the fact that he was finally at least back in his own hold, Yngve didn't really care. He didn't worry about it. Eventually, the party began packing up to get back into their journey, and as they were getting the last of their gear on, they heard Jan clear his throat. Everyone looked up to find that he wasn't packing up.

"I talked about it with Gilfre last night," he began, "and I'm going to stay here, to help her with the mill." As he explained it, Gilfre, standing at his side, quietly took his hand. Everyone was a bit stunned, and Frieda was the first to break the silence, smiling widely.

"Divines bless you both!" she said warmly. The rest echoed her sentiment in chorus, embracing them both in a mass of arms and heads. The group of travelers decided to leave the new couple a third of their remaining septims, and wished them a prosperous life together, and finally, shortly after midday, they took to the road.

Travel seemed to become significantly more treacherous after they left the mill. They encountered more hostile wildlife in a matter of hours here than they had on the entirety of their journey so far. They held their breath and they passed by a fort on the side of the road, not knowing for certain who or what was inside. But their travels all became worth it when, finally in late afternoon, Windhelm came into view. It took all of Yngve's willpower not to leave the road and run through the piles of snow just to try to get there faster.

The sight of Windhelm wasn't only inspiring for Yngve. All the rest – Thorald, Avulstein, Frieda, and Veezeeus – saw the city come into view and felt a sudden second wind. Riding this surge of energy, they pushed themselves to make it into the city that evening. Finally, Yngve was home.