(AN: So after wiping at least seven times at the second Emerald Nightmare boss during raid night, i realized what everyone was thinking without saying: my DPS sucked. So i logged off World of Warcraft and decided to do some writing. So at least you all get something good out of my epic failure.)
(Looking back at info on all the Stormcloak-supporting Jarls from Skyrim, it just goes to show you where the game developer's bias lay. All of them, and i do mean ALL of them, are either incompetent or just plain assholes. None of the Imperial-supporting Jarls are incompetent or mean to anyone. So obviously you can see that the game developers want you, the player, to be turned off by Stormcloak supporters so you can throw your lot in with the persecutors and their Altmeri masters. Even Balgruuf, who was bribed into accepting the Empire's White-Gold Concordant, is depicted as kind and noble.)
This One Time At the Windpeak Inn
The snow grew thicker the further the little cart carried on down the road. The howling of the wolves was now more than a whisper, and both Sigrun and Jonna had their hands upon the hafts of their weapons. For the present, they saw nary a sign of anything within the trees or upon the road. Yet the emptiness of the land was even more troublesome. Sigrun's eyes kept leaping back to the trees, half-expecting to see the hooded man at the head of a pack of wolves. But an hour passed and there was no sign of anyone in the trees.
About three o'clock, the wind began to pick up and snow was flying all around them. They could see little before their eyes, only dim gray shapes. While both Sori and Dag had gone this way before and were quite used to the weather, both Sigrun and Jonna were huddled in their thick blankets. Neither of them had been in a snow-storm of this strength and were wishing for a door between them and the weather, as well as some hot food to take the edge off the cold.
By and by they saw the silhouette of a walled fortress before them upon the road. The hearts of the women rose at the site, for they hoped that they might find some rest from the storm. But Sori told them that they would not be stopping thither.
"That there's Fort Dunstad," he said. "Th' Imperials 'ave garrison'd th' place since th' Civil War. Officially, they was supposed t' leave once 'order was restored' an' all that. Sixteen year an' order ain't restored enough fer th' Emperor's likin', I suppose."
"There's still trouble in Skyrim, sir," Dag stated. "The Forsworn in the west, chaos in the east and the Sons of Skyrim in the south..."
"It's an occupyin' force is what it is!" Sori retorted. "In sixteen year, how many Red Legions has come t' drive th' Forsworn or the dark elves outta Markarth or Windhelm, eh? None at all is what!"
"So we're not stopping there?" asked Jonna.
"We're all out in th' middle o' nowhere," Sori began. "No 'elp fer miles 'round. An' we be naught but an old man, a boy an' two ladies. They'd 'ave their way with us, take our goods and think nothin' about it. Fer this, we gotta leave the main road."
"Is that a wise choice?" Sigrun asked. "Remember the wolves..."
"I'd rather take me chances with wolves than th' Imperial Legion," Sori stated. "Besides, you two 'ave t' earn yer pay, remember?"
"Can this little cart make it in this storm?" Jonna asked.
"Oh, don' worry 'bout that," Sori proudly stated. "Me an' Dag 'ave been tru worse scrapes than this." He pointed off to the right. "If we can make it up that there 'ill, there's an old abandoned fort we can take shelter in."
"Abandoned?" Sigrun asked. "Who's to say the Imperials aren't there as well?"
"I've been this way 'afore, lass," Sori answered. "Ain't no one's been back t' Fort Fellhammer since the Companions sacked it seventeen year ago."
Sigrun immediately perked her ears at this news. Her father had told her of his many adventures, including something of his time with the Companions. At one point in his travels, he had assisted the Companions in recapturing their ancient weapon Wuuthrad, the Axe of Ysgramor. For the first time since leaving home, she was excited: the thought of standing in the place where one of her father's adventures had taken place, come to life out of the words of bedtime stories, made her forget the cold and the fear of wolves.
"C'mon now," Sori said. "Let's get these 'ere wheels off'n the wagon."
The roads in Skyrim were usually well-traveled, even in winter-time or in the northern climes where there was always snow. Off the roads, however, carts could not travel in the deep drifts of snow. Those who traveled into Dawnstar or Winterhold knew how to travel swiftly in the snow, especially if a particularly nasty snowstorm befell the area. They would remove the wheels from off their wagons and affix sledge blades to the bottom, by the which they could pass swiftly over the deep snow.
Sori and Dag removed the wheels first, as they knew how to do so from their experience with the wagon. The ladies then carried the wheels into the back of the wagon, and brought out the sledge blades. With a little rope, these were now tied onto the naked axles. The four of them then guided the horse on foot northward off the main road.
The snow continued to swirl around them as they pushed forward, their feet disappearing into the drifts with each step. Before them they could see little, save for the shadows of tall cliffs looming on their left and right. The going was slow, and each step felt heavier than the last one. Yet the four of them willed their bodies to go on, to push forward. They had to reach Fort Fellhammer before night, or risk being attacked by the wolves. The howling wind wafted through the narrow canyon walls. On the wind came the rumor of wolf howls: first distant, then closer.
"Do you hear that?" Sigrun asked. "It's the wolves!"
"They be comin' fer us!" Sori shouted. "Dag, see t' th' 'orse! Ladies, draw steel! It's time t' earn yer keep!"
Jonna took up her axe and Sigrun the sword she had been loaned, then they seized their shields and stood on either side of the wagon. In the blinding snow, they could see nothing beyond the sides of the cliffs: as for the wolves, the howling was now coming from all around. The canyon was filled with their voices, and from behind them, on the path they had come, low growling could be heard.
"Come on!" Jonna shouted, banging the flat side of her axe against her shield. "Whose the first one to die today? Mama needs a new cloak!"
Sigrun tried in vain to suppress a smile. Even with danger looming, Jonna was unflappably calm and undisturbed: nay, rather that she was jubilant. All of her talk about being disappointed that the bandits they met on the road to Whiterun was not vain bluster: she actually wanted to fight. It felt good to have someone like this on her side, someone in whose martial skill and loyalty she trusted explicitly.
As if in answer to Jonna's taunt, a howl was heard from the cliffs above them. Then a growl was heard nearby and closer: from out of the mists a large grey wolf appeared, its body crouched low to the ground and teeth barred at Sigrun. Behind it two more appeared, pacing outward left and right to circle around the cart. Sigrun raised her shield, aiming her sword for a thrusting move. As the wolves circled around towards Jonna, her taunting became louder and more voracious.
Suddenly the first wolf leaped forward. Sigrun's knees bent and her shield went up, catching the full weight of the wolf as it came down upon her. In one swift move, she drove her sword through the side of the wolf, sending the beast to slide limp off the shield. Another wolf leaped at Jonna, but fell back as a swing of her axe cut deep into its upper jaw. Another wolf leaped at Sigrun, who drove her sword through its mouth: instinctively, the wolf's jaws bit down and Sigrun gave a cry. At her left, Jonna connected a well-aimed kick with the stomach of a wolf as it leaped towards her. From the cliffs another wolf leaped down towards the horse and snapped at it: the horse cried out in panic, rearing up and kicking at the air madly.
"Keep th' 'orse!" shouted Sori.
The young man seized the reins as Sori, an seasoned traveler unafraid of wolves, took the whip from beneath the cart's front seat and lashed the attacking wolf. The whip's bite frightened the wolf, who leaped back with a painful whine. Meanwhile, at the back of the cart, Sigrun and a black wolf were staring each other down: the woman had her sword readied and the wolf barred its fangs, each waiting for the other to strike first and leave themselves open. Jonna, meanwhile, had tossed her shield, taking down a wolf that was attempting to attack Sigrun from the side. The crack of the whip caught her attention, just as a wolf leaped from the cliff and down onto the back of the cart. Tossing her axe into the snow, Jonna seized the wolf with both hands and threw it off the cart and into the snow. The wolf rolled back onto its feet even as Jonna took up the axe again. The beast charged and she drove the axe into the side of its face: but this one was stronger than the others and wouldn't go down with just one blow, or be scared off by the same. After recoiling slightly from the axe blow, it charged again. But the heat and lust of battle was still hot upon Jonna; she drove the axe-blade into the wolf's skull again, then swiftly pulled it out and struck into the wolf's throat. The wolf went down, and Jonna wiped the sides of her axe-blade upon each cheek: now her pale face glistened with fresh blood, which seemed to make her even more ferocious. She shouted, roared and brandished the bloody axe-head at the wolves.
The wolves, seeing that these were no simple travelers and that a determined assault wouldn't be worth the cost, growled at the valiant defenders and dispersed back into the blizzard. Sigrun gave a whoop of triumph, her blood warmed within her veins from the battle, driving off the cold. Jonna was still shouting after the wolves, brandishing her axe at them defiantly. Dag was calming the horse down as Sori moved about the bodies.
"Gonna 'ave t' 'ide th' bodies," Sori said. "Th' blood'll draw 'em back. Well done, ladies. You've more than earned yer pay t'day."
Sigrun cleaned her blade, then gave a start. Jonna had approached her, still looking fierce with a wild look in her eyes and her chest heaving from the loud roars she had defiantly made.
"Do you remember those stories?" she gasped. "About your da and how he'd make the ground tremble when he spoke?"
Sigrun nodded. "The Dragon language."
"You need to teach me some of those words," Jonna said. "I need a good battle-cry to shout at our enemies. Now then..." She stuck the axe-blade into the wood of the cart. "...I'm going to search the bodies. There must be one here who'll make a good coat. After all, it would be a shame to let the bodies go to waste, right?"
"Right," Sigrun returned. "Here, I'll give you a hand."
They buried most of the bodies, but Jonna insisted on bringing one with them to Dawnstar, in case they found a tanner who could prepare the skin for use. Sori permitted this, but told Jonna that she would have to protect them if any more wolves showed up. The rest of that day was spent pushing forward through the snow, trying to find Fort Fellhammer before nightfall. There were no more wolf attacks, but the howling continued on without hindrance. The snow also continued to fall and obscure their sight.
Just as night was beginning to fall and the shadows grew thicker, in the midst of the blizzard came the sound of Sori's voice, shouting for thanks. The shadows of a ruined fort, half-buried in the snow, appeared before them. Pushing forward, they came to the walls of the fort and brought the cart into the shelter of what had once been the fort's stable. Here the wind's chilling bite was reduced to nothing but a distant howl, and they could spend the night in relative peace.
Once they were under a roof, Sori and Dag unhitched the wagon and placed it to one side of the stable. Sori then removed a horse-blanket from the wagon and covered the horse with it, while he sent Dag with the women to find a place to sleep for the night. Unfortunately for Sigrun and Jonna, they would be forced to sleep huddled together: even without the wind, it was still bitingly cold. The three of them pawed about in the blown snow on the ground, piling it up to help block the wind. Dag suddenly gave a cry and leaped back from where he had been pawing at the snow. The girls came over to where he had been digging and saw a skull with frozen skin lying buried in the snow.
"I wonder how long it's been here," Jonna muttered. "Could it be a draugr? You know, I've heard they can grow to monstrous size."
"Ain't no ruins 'round here'bouts," said Sori. "I'd say this 'ere poor bastard died recently. Let 'im lie: ain't nothin' good come from disrespectin' th' dead."
"I'm not sleeping here if there's a dead body here!" Dag squealed.
"Fine, then," sighed Sigrun. "We'll dig the body out and move it."
Sigrun and Jonna got to work brushing the snow away from the body. Within a few minutes, they had removed all the snow from the body. As they were removing the body, something fell out of the body's hands and onto the pile of snow they had been building. Jonna and Sigrun placed the body on the other side of the stables, then made their way back to the cart. Sigrun, however, noticed what had fallen from the body's hands and picked it up: it was large and bound in old leather that had been cured enough to survive the weather. Sigrun stowed it away as they wrapped themselves in their blankets and prepared for the night.
They ate a sparse meal in the steadily dwindling light. Then they huddled together for warmth, with Sori lying next to the wagon, Dag to his left, and Sigrun and Jonna to his left. The howl of wolves and the wind sang the four travelers to sleep. Jonna remained awake, for she was worried that the wolves would return, smelling the scent of blood from the wolf she had taken. Sigrun dreamed of a figure shrouded in darkness, stalking them in the light of the moons. At one point it took the appearance of a tall, hooded figure bearing a staff. Then it transformed into a handsome-faced young man, grinning at her with a wolfish grin. Then it became a howling, red-eyed wolf, snarling at her with a pack of a dozen others. Dag dreamed of that skeletal body with gray-green, frozen skin, walking toward him with hands outstretched. Sori snored loudly and contently.
The storm had abated by the time morning came. Jonna told them that no wolves had entered the ruins of the fort during the night: only their howling. They ate a cold breakfast, then hitched the horse back to the wagon and prepared to leave the fort. Sigrun kept the folio safely in her bag, still unsure what it was that she had in her possession. Still, it intrigued her how that body they found in the fort was willing to hold onto it unto death rather than burn it to try to stay alive.
During that morning, the cart carried on through snow that was in many places almost knee deep. They made a north-west line, according to the direction Sori stated that would take them back to the main road. Their path was filled with large pines and iron-wood trees, dressed in snow, which obscured the view of much ahead of them. Just above the tops of the trees, the gray heights of a tall mountain could be seen, peaking its head above everything else.
"Where are we?" Sigrun asked.
"Deep in th' Pale," Sori answered. "Them 'ills up there be th' ring o' 'ills surroundin' th' Dwarven ruins o' Mzinchaleft."
"Dwemer ruins, sir, not Dwarven," Dag clarified. "Short humans are Dwarves. These were the Dwemer."
"They was th' Dwarves when th' giants met 'em," Sori returned. "Erryone was a dwarf t' them, bein' as they was twelve feet tall 'n all."
Sigrun did not respond. She had heard stories of the Dwemer ruins of Mzinchaleft, where her mother had almost met her end before she met Eirik. What she heard were horrible, frightening tales of bronze machines with the strength of five, sightless monsters with poison on their teeth, and a deep darkness greater than night. She hoped that, whatever happened in her future travels, she would never be forced to enter one of those ruins.
As they traveled on, the trees began to thin out before them. Sori said that this meant they were nearing the road. As they pressed onward, a pile of snow from one of the trees overhead crashed down, showering them with freezing snow. They looked at the trees to see where it was coming from, then noticed that the other trees around them were quivering. It did not take long for them to realize that the entire ground was shaking.
"Shor's balls!" Sori muttered under his breath.
"What is it?" Sigrun asked.
"Giants," Sori returned. "We ain't that far from th' Red Road Pass. I've seen 'em gather there'bouts."
"A real giant?" Jonna chuckled. "It'd be amazing to see one in person."
"Yeah, not so amazin' if ye get 'it by its club," Sori retorted. "I've seen 'em chuck a full grown man a 'undred feet into th' sky at a 'it."
From out of the trees there appeared a twelve-foot tall giant, dressed in thick fur clothes from its massive shoulders to its feet, buried in the snow. Its head was covered in long, stringy gray hair that was dappled in snow, and in one hand it dragged a massive club through the snow behind it. The four crouched where they stood at Sori's insistence, trying to make themselves as small and unnoticeable as possible; according to him, giants would not attack unless provoked. The massive creature strode through the trees, then turned to the little cart. The four of them were held in its dark gaze for far too long. None of them dared to move, else a misstep would cause the giant to attack. The giant snorted, then lumbered on through the forest on its way.
"That was a close'un," Sori whispered. "Let's get movin' a'fore 'e come back."
The little party pushed on through the snow; it was not far from the road, which was much easier to navigate than the snow-clad trackless paths off such. The rest of the journey was uneventful; no wolves or other giants attacked them, nor did they see or hear so much as a sign of such. The road passed between large boulders on either side, steadily going upward into the heights of some of Skyrim's tallest peaks. At length, the path began to slope down from the heights and they felt a blast of chill wind that bit through even the thickest clothing. The road continued down into a cove sheltered with tall cliffs on both sides and behind on the back-side of the mountain. In that cove was a town built on the shores of the sea, in the style of most towns in Skyrim; thatched buildings made of wood and a longhouse near the center of the town. Closer to the shore there were several docks where ships with red and black sails were anchored.
"'Ere we are, ladies," Sori said, gesturing to the town. "Dawnstar, th' capital o' th' Pale 'old. Them ships down there be Company ships."
"Which company?" Sigrun asked.
"The East Empire Company," Dag answered.
"Oblivion take 'em all," Sori spat. "They are th' 'and o' th' Emp'ror's will in these parts. Them as 'ave dealin's with th' Empire go through 'em firs'."
"Who's the Jarl of Dawnstar?" Jonna asked.
"Brina Merilis," Sori returned. "A traitor if ere there were'un. Even took up an Imperial name, like as not!"
"Who was she?" Sigrun asked.
"Born a rich family outside o' Skyrim," Sori continued. "Joined th' Imperial Legion durin' th' Great War. Then came back as th' Empire's spy and lap-dog. Durin' th' Civil War, th' Pale was 'anded o'er to th' Empire at some odd peace conference and th' old Jarl Skald was forced to abdicate. Then Brina became Jarl, an' she did erry'thing th' Emp'ror told 'er t' do."
"She's well respected," Dag stated. "The people of Dawnstar look up to her, they expect her to solve their problems."
"Ay," Sori nodded. "They don' know that b*tch causes 'alf their problems." He then apologized to the ladies.
The little group continued into the town, pulling up to a thatched building that was close to the edge of town. Here Sori hitched the wagon to the hitching post, then led the way into the building. Over the door was a sign with a gust of wind carved upon it: the Windpeak Inn as Sori called it. Inside they entered the common room of an inn, with a cozy fire burning upon the hearth. There were a few people in the inn at the moment, some warming themselves by the fire, others drinking by themselves at the tables. Sori and Dag went to the bar and were chatting it up with the bartender. Something seemed to be the problem, however.
"Shor's balls!" exclaimed Sori. "That's more'an twice what it was las' time I was 'ere'bouts."
"Sad to say it, Sori," the bartender replied. "Empire taxes everything. Locally-made beer and mead are outlawed here, as you know. This isn't Whiterun."
"Ay, things ain't much better there either," Sori grumbled. "Alright, I'll see what I can do."
He produced a large bag of money from beneath his cloak, then placed it on the bar and doled out what the bartender had asked. Once this was done, he led Dag and the women to one of the tables, where they sat down.
"Alright, time t' settle accounts," Sori stated. He then divided the money up between his apprentice and the two guards. Depsite his comments about cutting their pay for their stay in the Dragonsreach prison, what they received was considerable.
"So, what happens next?" he asked. "I mean, fer you ladies. Dag an' I still 'ave bus'ness t' do 'ere'bouts. Y'all ain't got nuthin' t' do wit us; yer contract is fulfilled."
"Where will you go after this?" Jonna asked.
"Wherever th' coin is," Sori returned. "We got friends all 'round th' 'olds. We make quite a pretty septim runnin' illegal goods into th' Imperial-'eld 'olds."
"You have money," Sigrun stated. "The Lord of Heljarchen, whoever he is, has some too. Why don't you contact him for us? We can start getting things moving..."
Sori sighed. "I know what ye say, lass. An' I'd love t' 'elp. But I'm an old man: fightin' ain't in me. Besides, jus' money ain't gonna convince th' Emp'ror t' give us back our land. You'd need folk willin' t' fight fer their land: and like ye saw in Whiterun, not many are willin' t' risk endin' up dead like that."
"We can't just do nothing!" Sigrun replied.
"If ye can find folk as got nothin' t' lose," Sori stated. "Then maybe some ol' bastard'll be willin' t' give ye th' funds. But what about ye? I'd 'ate t' see ye end up in worse straits after all we've been through."
"We can take care of ourselves," Jonna answered.
Sori laughed. "If I 'ad a gold septim erry'time some wide-eyed adventurer said them words, I'd be a rich man! Mos' o' them end up dead within days o' settin' out."
"That's pretty rich," Jonna retorted. "Considering we saved you from those women bandits, and the wolves."
"I ain't sayin' yer weak," Sori shook his head. "I'm jus' sayin' ye need t' take care o' yerselfs. Mos' folk in Skyrim these days ain't as generous as meself. 'specially this close t' Eastmarch."
Within a few minutes, their food and drinks arrived: Sori told them that it was on him as a parting gift. The men ate only a little, then Sori sent Dag to find a friend of his. Once this was done, Sori drained his mug and bade farewell to Sigrun and Jonna.
"If ye be lookin' fer more work," he said. "Yer in th' bes' place t' look fer it. Ask 'round: jus' keep a wary eye. An' don't lose this one 'ere." He said to Sigrun, pointing at Jonna.
"I have no intention of leaving her," Sigrun stated. "Not yet, at least."
"Good," Sori stated. "'Cuz she's clearly th' bes' fighter o' th' two o' ye." Jonna beamed proudly while Sigrun rolled her eyes. With that, Sori left the two women at their table. As he was leaving, Jonna took a sip of her mug, then broke the silence.
"So, what do you think?" she asked. "We're clear on the other side of Skyrim. Never been this far away from home, huh?" Sigrun nodded. "It's amazing, isn't it? Haven't seen this much of the world my entire life."
"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Sigrun nodded.
"Aren't you?" asked Jonna. "I thought you were enjoying this adventure also."
"I was, I mean, I am," Sigrun returned. "I never thought the world was this big. And there's so much to see still."
"I know, right?" Jonna smiled. "Where should we go next?"
Sigrun did not immediately speak. She wanted to begin asking around about her sister, but then there was also the state of Skyrim that was brought into mind upon seeing the bodies on the walls of Whiterun. Finding people interested in saving the land would be a good place to start, though she had no idea how to begin. Then again, there was the folio that she had found in the ruins of Fort Fellhammer. She reached into her bag that had been placed beside her chair, untied the top, and was pulling it up onto the table.
"Well met, kinswomen!" an old man greeted them. Sigrun was startled by the suddenness of his approach. He was dressed in gray, weather-beaten traveling robes, and wore a thick scarf about his neck. His head was bald, but a long gray beard hanged down from his chin.
"I was eavesdropping just a moment ago," the old man said. "And I heard that you ladies might be looking for work. If that's the case, I have some for you, if you're interested."
"First, we'd like to know your name," Jonna returned.
"Havi the Spell-sword," the old man answered. "Though you may have heard of me."
"Sorry, we haven't," Sigrun replied.
Havi scoffed. "You haven't heard of Havi the Spell-sword, traveler and master magician? I've been all over the north-lands, from High Rock to Morrowind. I've learned from the best swordsmen and the best mages: even those Telvanni bastards, and they don't teach their tricks to those outside of their House, to say nothing of non-Dunmer."
"We've never heard of you before," Jonna returned. "What is it you want?"
"Oh, right to the point, eh?" Havi answered. "Straight-forwardness in a woman: I admire that. Now then, as I said, I'm a spell-sword. But those fools from the College of Winterhold stole my enchanted sword. Without it, I'm not much use. I'd be very grateful if you brought it back: and I'd be willing to pay for it."
"You said you learned magic, right?" Jonna asked. "Why can't you just get the sword yourself?"
"What is this, a Thalmor interrogation?" Havi returned.
"Well, if you're as powerful as you say you are," Jonna stated. "I want to know why you can't get your own sword back."
Havi laughed. "Well, the mages at Winterhold might be fools, but they're smart fools, as paradoxical as that sounds. They've put up magical barriers around the College, such that no one can teleport in or out: neither would they be fooled by a cloaking spell. And I can't just walk up and ask for it, as they know me at the College and wouldn't just give it back at a word."
"Alright," Jonna nodded. "We might be interested."
"I have a few questions to ask you," Sigrun returned. "You said you'd pay us for your sword. How much?"
"More than it's worth, I'd say," Havi evasively answered.
"Be more specific," Jonna retorted.
"Well, gold septims, obviously," Havi stated. "But something a bit more useful to shieldmaidens such as yourselves, if my time adventuring has taught me anything."
"What's that?" Sigrun asked.
"My services," he replied. "Now, of course, I won't just throw my life away and follow after you like a loyal hound. But if our paths cross again, I'd think twice before walking on past you. Maybe, if I'm in a good mood, I'd be willing to let you share in the glory of my adventures."
"A bit full of yourself, aren't you, old man?" Jonna asked.
"Maybe, but who cares," Havi chuckled. "I need to be confident in my abilities in my travels, so I can sell them affectively. Besides, I'm not looking to settle down, nor do I care about the opinions of women. They get in the way of important things."
"Asshole!" Jonna snapped.
"Now, now," Havi added, holding up one hand in interjection. "If I was an old maid, you'd be accepting my words as sound wisdom born of learned experience without a second thought. But the truth is the truth: women want a man to settle down and focus on them, instead of learning the secrets of magicka or helping the people of Skyrim."
"Wait a minute," Sigrun interjected. "Helping the people of Skyrim?"
"Yea," Havi nodded. "I fought in the Great War, but I wasn't bought off by the Empire's lies of a costly victory: it was a shameful defeat, in which the Dominion gained everything it fought for, one way or another, and the Empire lost. I traveled around quite a bit, learning what I could; mostly in Hammerfell, as they were the ones who had driven the Dominion out of their land by themselves, without the help of the Empire. When I heard about the Civil War and things happening in Skyrim, I came back. Then I found that to be nothing but lies and false hope."
"Why?" Sigrun asked.
"I heard the stories of dragons in Skyrim," Havi stated. "Real life dragons, not those damned cliff-racers like in Morrowind: actual, fire-breathing lizards. Then I heard about the Dragonborn, the only one that could kill the dragons. What I would have given to meet him in person! Maybe things would have been different if I had gotten here sooner. But then I learned about the peace summit between Ulfric and the Empire, overseen by the Dragonborn no less! He made the same mistake Titus Mede made in the Great War!"
"What mistake?" Sigrun returned, now being equally as irritated as Jonna.
"The Dragonborn gave the Empire an inch by negotiating with them," Havi returned. "And with that inch, they took everything. Now look at us! Divided on both fronts, impoverished beyond our means, fucking enslaved! He should have killed Tullius when he had the chance!"
"I don't think you have any right to be criticizing what he did!" Sigrun retorted.
"Why?" Havi returned. "You wanna do something about it?"
"I wouldn't threaten her if I were you, 'friend,'" Jonna interjected. "She bit off a man's nose in a bar-fight who did likewise."
"Is that so?" Havi chuckled. "Then maybe you could bite the noses off those Winterhold mages while you're at it. I'll be right here, waiting for your return."
"No-fucking-way!" Jonna retorted.
"Actually," Sigrun sighed. "We'll do it. Just tell us what's the best way into Winterhold. We've..." She wanted to say '...never been away from home', but thought that this wouldn't be the best way to sell their skills either. "...never been this far north."
"Ah, I see," Havi nodded. "Well, the fastest way to Winterhold is by the main road."
"We can't go that way," Sigrun replied.
"Trouble with the Imperials?" Havi chuckled. "Good on you. You're tougher than I imagined. Well, if you want to avoid the Imperials, then the longer, harder way is going to be your choice. Just take the road south out of town, then once it forks west, head off the road east into the mountains until you find the lighthouse. From there, you go down into the glacial valley around the Dwemer ruins of Alftand: go to the southern end of the valley, there you'll find the Wayward Pass that leads through Mount Anthor and rejoins the North-East Road. You can follow that all the way to Winterhold."
"Thank you for the offer, Havi," Jonna interjected. "But we..."
"We'll think it over," Sigrun added. "My sister and I have been long on the road these past few days and were looking forward to spending the night here. In the morning, we'll decide one way or another."
"Fine by me," Havi replied. "I'm not getting any younger." With that, he rose from their table and wandered aimlessly about the common room.
"I don't like him," Jonna said, shaking her head. "He sounds like a mighty prick to me. Like that one guy from your Da's stories. What was his name again, B*tch-siss?"
"Crixus, Jons," Sigrun replied. "Servius Crixus."
"You're not actually thinking about taking him up on his offer, are you?"
"Why not?" Sigrun asked. "We need work and you want to go adventuring. What better way of doing that than going to the College of Winterhold?"
"But from him?" Jonna asked. "Of all people, couldn't we find someone better?"
"He's the first person we've met with an interest in Skyrim's fate," Sigrun replied. "Someone who..."
"...Has nothing to lose?" Jonna jested. "Still, he just seems a bit full of himself."
"Maybe he is," Sigrun said. "But for now, we can't be picky about who we need to help us."
"I don't see it as picky," Jonna returned. "Like with your Da's stories. Crixus found a reason to b*tch about every little thing about the Stormcloaks, whether warranted or not. We can't give our enemies a thing to b*tch about concerning us, and I say that includes the company we keep."
"Dually noted," Sigrun said, then took a sip of her mug.
After they had eaten and drank, they purchased for themselves rooms for the night: only a one-bed room, to save on money. As they had grown up together, and had no thought of the perverted thoughts of others, the two shared the bed. It was the first time since they left home where they had slept in a proper bed.
(AN: Finally got a new chapter out! In the long interval, I came up with half a dozen more ideas for this story. I just hope I don't swamp myself in ideas, or lose much writing time as a result of the fruitless job search [or World of Warcraft])
(Havi was an idea for an interesting character that just sort of came up out of thin air. He's not particularly a douche, he just doesn't care: you know, if you hang around people in their 40s and 50s as long as i have, you start to notice that they speak their minds without a care to who they hurt. Of course, being a mage would make one rather full of themselves, if you think about it.)