(AN: As you might have guessed, this chapter is going to introduce yet another sub-plot into the story, as well as an 'old friend'.)

(In the last two chapters, we got to see what happens when our two heroines are separated. Now we will get to see their reaction to how each other responded to those situations. They might just surprise themselves.)

Old Ways for Old Gods

Jonna did not wait for the lightning to strike again. Nobody else in Skyrim called her by her pet-name, not even her mother; only one person used that particular name. She ran forward and caught the lone warrior as she collapsed forward into her, rain and cold be damned. Garbag came and helped drag Sigrun back to the side of the hill, where the three huddled together against the cold, wet stone. They were all soaked through to the bone, and even Jonna's cloak was soaked and worthless right now as warmth or protection from the rain. Sigrun struggled to speak, but could only get out one word.

"F-Food..."

Jonna offered her some of the dried meat Garbag had given her, which she devoured ravenously. No other words were said between the two young women.

"I take it this is your friend, then?" Garbag asked.

"Yes," Jonna nodded.

Sigrun fell asleep almost as soon as she had finished the meat. Jonna, meanwhile, wrapped her arms around Sigrun and held her as tightly as possible: a cold chill filled her little body as the night deepened and she needed the warmth. Though they were all soaked, Garbag also huddled together with the two women and one by one they at last fell asleep, amid the pounding rain.

The new day dawned. The storm had passed, and the smokes were not yet filling the sky above them. Sigrun was the first to wake, whether by some uneasiness or because her natural cycle of sleep had been disrupted by the trip by cart. Gently she roused Jonna, who awoke with red eyes and a stuffy nose: she had taken a cold.

"It's not like us Nords to get sick so easily," Sigrun said.

"Is that all thanks I get," Jonna breathed. "For...coming all this way to find you?"

"I didn't know it was you," Sigrun smiled. "And I've never been happier to see you in my whole life."

Jonna smiled, then her thoughts returned to Garbag. Her arm flailed out and struck the Orc upon the shoulder. He gave a loud grunt full of curses in his tongue, then awoke.

"We found my friend," Jonna said. "Now..."

"Now I'll lead you back across the river," Garbag interjected. "Then return to the Nightgate Inn on my own."

"What?" Jonna asked. "You're just gonna leave us like this?"

"I'm taking you back across the White River," Garbag repeated. "It's safer there than over there; also, once you're over the river, you can return to your own home easier." He grumbled. "But both of you are walking. My horse can't carry all three of us."

Sigrun and Jonna shared the last of the dried meat, then they divided their gear among themselves. All of it was thoroughly soaked, but it was better than nothing. Sigrun let Jonna keep her own sword, while she carried the iron sword she had taken from the Dunmer and Havi's enchanted sword. Then they got themselves onto their feet and went forward. Garbag rode before at a slow pace, while the two girls walked on behind: Jonna was slower than usual because of her cold and Sigrun understandably kept pace with her.

The morning passed on and they continued on their way westward. The sky was overcast with clouds, but these were lighter, threatened no rain, and caused this day to be much brighter than the last. There were no birds nor beasts to be seen in sky or dale: Garbag told them that it was because of the work that had been done in Eastmarch since the end of the Civil War almost seventeen years ago.

It was two hours until noon. They arrived at the banks of the White River, and here they were forced to wade through it again. Sigrun placed Jonna on the back of Garbag's horse, while she waded through on foot. The river was higher than the last time they had crossed, as the rain had caused it to swell almost to its fullest. Garbag's horse treaded water all the way through and Sigrun was swimming from one end to the other.

Both Eirik and Mjoll had learned about the White River; he from his time with the Companions and she from her many travels. This was the very river that Ysgramor's Five Hundred Companions took when they returned to Tamriel to seek vengeance upon the Snow Elves. According to the stories, the White River was at its fullest point during Ysgramor's time; deep enough that only a giant could wade across and keep his head above the water. Though it was not yet that deep today, it was indeed deeper than before and they had to work hard to keep from being swept southward and downstream by the current.

Once they crossed to the other side, Garbag carried Jonna off the horse and then assayed to leave.

"What?" Jonna coughed. "You're gonna leave us just like that?"

"I agreed to defend you while you looked for your friend," Garbag stated. "And you have now found her. My business with you ended this morning, but out of the goodness of my heart, I led you back across the river. You will be safer here than on the other side and will arrive in safer lands easier. I have done more than I was paid for, and haven't asked for further compensation; but I will now leave you and go about my business on my own. Farewell and be safe."

With that, Garbag spurred his horse and rode off northward upon the road. Jonna tried calling after him, but to no avail. She sighed, but it turned to a cough.

"Such a shame," Sigrun said. "He seemed to be a strong warrior, and a decent fellow nonetheless for his leaving us. I recall you were unwilling that we sought out Havi for our cause of saving Skyrim because he was an ass. But this Orc seemed to be of better stock. I'm surprised you didn't insist that he stayed with us."

"I would have," Jonna replied. "But I haven't the money to satisfy him, nor the strength for an argument, or a fight."

"If we meet him again," Sigrun stated. "Perhaps we can both persuade him."

"I don't think he would be willing to help," Jonna sighed. "He didn't seem to care much for the plight of our people when we spoke of it on our search for you."

"Then where shall we go?" Sigrun asked. "Back to Dawnstar to find Havi?"

"No, no, not yet," Jonna returned. "I have had some news. We're going back to Whiterun. It's closer and..." She sneezed. "...we'll be able to resupply."

"I can't argue with that," Sigrun answered. "Alright, Jons, lead the way."

For another hour or so they followed the road farther southward. The mountains on the right-hand side of the road were rather high and their summits covered with snow, but the lower flanks were more familiar. Trees they could see upon their sides, verdant pine trees that did not lose their needles; trees that had not been cut down by the work of the Dunmer. The sight pleased the two young women, for it seemed that even here, in this dreary land, made barren by the elves, some semblance of home remained. There was a noticeable spring in their steps as they went forward, yet Sigrun was still on the lookout: at least two of her captors were still alive and at large, and she feared to be ambushed by them in the woods, where one could be hidden from sight easier than in the barren land on the eastern side of the river.

It was about midday and they were still on the road, having encountered no enemies in their path. Yet as they were going forward, Sigrun became distinctly aware that they were being followed. Ever and anon, she would look over her shoulder back down the road, or across the river into the barren wasteland. There was no apparent sign of pursuit, whether near at hand or far away. Yet the feeling of pursuit did not leave Sigrun. Sometimes she would look right, where the sides of the mountain were covered in pine trees: if there was anyone following them from that side, they were skilled in wood-craft and flitted between the trees faster than Sigrun's eyes could catch them.

Ahead of them, they could see the road turning south and west, around a stony arm of the mountains. All this time, they had caught no sight of pursuit; but Sigrun was still wary and kept her eyes peeled this way and that. A loose stone slid from the cliffs above their head and came crashing down to the road at their left. Sigrun was sure now that they were being followed and, stepping out from the shelter of the cliff, drew out her sword.

"I know you're up there!" she shouted. "Come out, if you're not afraid of a fair fight!"

At that, there appeared a figure from behind the trees upon the cliff above them. The figure was clad in the green clothes of a hunter, a bow was in his hands and a shield upon his back. Were it not for the stranger's clothes, the women might have taken him for Havi: his face told that he was human and not an elf, and he had gray hair and a long gray beard.

"You ain't Dunmer," the stranger said as he noticed them. "Are you lost? There ain't many kins-folk traveling in Eastmarch as aren't lost, least-ways not free kins-folk, that is."

"We're not lost," Sigrun returned, relieved that it was neither Arvyn nor Doyvn; she still kept a firm grip on her sword. "We're on our way to Whiterun. Is this not the right road?"

"By an' by," the stranger stated. "I see you're kinswomen, Nord folk. Such a strange sight in Eastmarch these days. An' armed, no less! What business had you here?"

"Our business is our own," Sigrun replied. "All we want is to be on our way to Whiterun, without being followed."

"If Whiterun be your goal," the stranger said. "Then the road ain't gonna serve you. It goes further south, round about by an old fort, then climbs up the sides o' these mountains. You're better off cuttin' straight west from here. You'll find the road and save yourself quite a stretch."

"And why should we trust a strange man," Jonna asked. "Armed to the teeth, who follows two innocent travelers who've done nothing to deserve such treatment?"

"Look, kinswoman," the stranger said, relaxing the string of his bow but not fully lowering it. "I don't know your business, and you don't seem too keen on sharin' it. If that be what you want, then so be it. But these parts ain't safe for our kind, not anymore. I help those I find get safely out o' this land. I don't mean you no harm, but I followed you to see if you really were Nords."

"Still," Jonna argued. "The last person we trusted betrayed our trust. How do we know you won't lead us out into the woods to rob us? Or rape us? Or murder us? Or all three?"

"I don't rob from kins-folk," the stranger stated. "Only those as robbed our land from us. True, it's been many a year since I've had sight or smell of a beautiful woman; but I'd reckon strong drink is better still. Never betrayed me in all me long years. As for killin', I'd only raise my hand against kins-folk as try to kill me. An' seeing as how both of you are armed, perhaps I should be asking you the same question."

"I don't like him," Jonna whispered to Sigrun.

"You don't like anyone, Jons," Sigrun returned.

"Well, the last person we trusted kidnapped you," Jonna whispered. "So I have good reason not to like or trust anyone we may meet."

"Well?" the stranger asked. "What'll it be, kinswomen?"

"Our weapons are for defending ourselves," Sigrun said. "They won't be turned against you unless you give us reason to do so. As for your offer, I would have you first put down your bow and then come down from that cliff and onto the road."

"Only that, eh?" the stranger asked. "And why is that?"

"If you want us to trust you," Sigrun said. "You'll trust us first; trust us to not attack you, having put your life in our hands. You do that, and we'll be willing to trust you not to lead us into a trap."

The stranger chuckled. "I am an old man, and there are dangerous folk about..."

"Excuses!" Jonna shouted. "Climb down here or fuck off!"

"Easy, Jons," Sigrun whispered. "Well, stranger, those are my terms. Come down here, then we can talk."

The stranger grumbled, then lowered his bow, placed it in the quiver hidden beneath the shield on his back, and made the slow, careful crawl down the side of the cliff. About half-way down he leaped and they saw that he was rather spritely for his age. Furthermore, now that he was on the ground, their eyes discerned a few more particular details about the stranger. Firstly, he was not as old as he had appeared before; he had light hair that, by reason of graying, looked even older from afar. Any thought that this could be Havi were dismissed: there was nothing magical about this man, not even any enchanted jewelry. While Havi was bald, this man had long hair tied behind his head; and while Havi's beard was long and straight, this man's was tied into a knot just below the chin.

"There," the man said. "We are on equal footing, kinswomen. I have put me life in your hands. Do you trust me now?"

"No," Jonna stated.

"Not yet," Sigrun clarified. "Since we've shown that we're no bandits and mean you no harm, perhaps you can tell us who you are and how many others are with you."

"I am alone," the man began. "I live in a cave in the middle of a lake not too far from here. My name is Roggi Knot-Beard, an' I am formerly of the township of Kynesgrove. There, now I have entrusted you with more than I would any dark elf I might meet. Now I ask that you make a decision about me: will you go with me or no? I would choose swiftly if I were you, as we're out in the open and most eyes hereabouts are not friendly."

"No, we don't trust you," Jonna returned. "Who is to say all of this is true and not just some clever story? You could be waiting for us to foolishly believe you, then you'd lead us into the forest and rob us there."

"I told you, I don't rob kins-folk!" Roggi returned, sounding a bit annoyed at Jonna's mistrust.

"Wait," Sigrun interjected. "You said you would lead us down a shortcut to the main road. If you don't intend to rob or kill us, what price would you demand for your services?"

"No price," Roggi stated. "I get me food from the wilderness, an' what I can't get there I steal from the Dunmer that cross my path."

"Then why would you offer to help us?" Sigrun asked. "As you said, these parts are filled with dangerous folk."

"Truly," Roggi nodded. "But as I also said, I help kins-folk as get lost hereabouts. Whether you be lost or no, cuttin' a few dangerous miles off'n your journey is a good bet, ain't it?" While he was talking, Roggi took stock of the women in their filthy, bedraggled state: their clothes had dried upon their bodies as they walked, Jonna was still rather sick, and they both looked famished.

"Listen here," he said. "You look like you've seen better days. There's food, clean water, an' warm beds to sleep in at my cave. I know it's not the best accommodations, especially with an older man, but they'd be safer than the road."

"Aha!" Jonna retorted, then let out a mighty sneeze. "You are trying to trick us!"

"We are low on our supplies," Sigrun whispered. "If push comes to shove, then we can kill him and take his supplies for ourselves." She then turned back to Roggi. "Alright, lead us to your cave. But no tricks, or we will turn on you. Is that understood?"

"Clear as day," Roggi returned.

"Lead on, then."

They left the road in short order, Roggi in front with Sigrun and Jonna following on behind. Sigrun kept her sword out; though she was more trusting than Jonna, after having been betrayed and kidnapped by Arvyn Hlas, she was more than a little wary. From the road, their path went north and a little west, always going up the sides of the mountain. On either side were many trees, but there was nothing behind these trees to threaten them.

Another two hours passed, the sun had left its noon zenith and was on its way towards the tops of the mountains in the west. Here the air was clear and a hint of snow wafted down from the higher reaches. Sigrun smiled and breathed deeply: despite the threat of danger, it made her feel good inside to smell the cool, clear mountain air. Jonna herself made a few snuffling attempts to breathe the air. They passed into a clearing in the woods, with a short cliff directly to the north. The ground was cold and firm, and farther up there was snow clinging stubbornly to the ground. In the middle of that clearing, just below the snow, was a wide lake with a tiny island in the midst thereof.

"There it is," Roggi said. "Mara's Eye. Travelers called it a pond, though it is actually a lake. Some thirty years ago, travelers stopped goin' thereabouts. Now nobody lives there but me."

Roggi then led them to a nearby cluster of trees, where he had hidden a small boat beneath several branches. Without asking for their help, he dragged the boat over to the water's edge and then invited them to climb aboard. Warily they entered the boat, which Roggi then rowed across the still surface of the lake to the little island. Once there, they disembarked from the boat one by one, and Roggi dragged it onto the islet and secured it to the trunk of a nearby tree. He then led them to a small group of stones, and in the middle of them he pulled aside several branches to reveal a wooden door, which he opened: behind the door was a ladder that led down into the darkness of a cave.

"I'll go down first," he said. "That way, if you don't trust me, you can climb back up."

Roggi went down first, then came Sigrun: she did not sheathe her sword, but held onto the grip with one hand while she climbed with the other. Jonna was the last one down and did not close the door behind her.

At the bottom of the stairs was a wide room, illuminated by a lantern which Roggi had just now lit. In its light, they saw that the floor was mostly rock, though there were several wooden platforms built off that rock around it; the roof was supported by two thick stalagtite pillars. There was an endless dripping of water down in the darkness beyond their sight.

"Welcome to Mara's Eye Den," Roggi stated. "Long ago, this was used by smugglers; sort of a resting place between Riften and the other holds o' Skyrim. Then, about thirty year ago, they stopped comin' here. Word that reached Kynesgrove said that the place was haunted. When I came out here, I found it empty and useful."

"You live here?" Sigrun asked.

"When I'm not huntin'," Roggi stated. "But please, there's no cause to have your weapons drawn. I'd not be botherin' with hospitality if it were me purpose to slay you." He produced some bread from a barrel and handed it to Sigrun. Jonna took the bread, but did not eat it. He then went about his business lighting candles and pulling out food from the many barrels and crates that were stacked and laid about the cavern.

"Eat up," Roggi said. "It's not much, but I can't spare more. Some o' this food has to last me, the rest for those who come here."

"You said you were alone," Sigrun noted.

"And I am," Roggi returned. "But sometimes those I meet and escort back to free Skyrim had lost their supplies, like yourselves, or the hour is late when I find 'em and I ain't a'mind to lead them across the border at night." He turned to his guests and saw them still standing there, with Sigrun's sword still in her hand.

"Well?" he asked. "I've welcomed you into me home and given you food from out o' me larders. Ain't you gonna trust me now?"

"Maybe," Sigrun replied. Roggi dragged a chair from one of the tables in the cave over to where they were and offered it to them, as he went back for another. They did not accept the chair, but sat against a barrel near the foot of the ladder. Roggi went for a bottle of mead, then came back and sat in the chair. Jonna and Sigrun shared first the loaf they had been given, but ate it slowly and eyed Roggi warily.

"So you're from Kynesgrove, is that it?" Sigrun asked. "Where's that?"

"A few mile east o' here," Roggi stated. "On the other side of the White River. Least-ways, that's where it was."

"Was?" Sigrun inquired.

"It was destroyed when the dark elves took over Eastmarch seventeen year ago," Roggi ruefully stated. "Don't make no sense. We welcomed strangers of old: I meself had nothin' against the dark elves once upon a time."

"How about now?"

"They burned Kynesgrove," Roggi said in a low, grim voice. "Slew kins-folk, honest folk, people I'd known for years. But that didn't stop them none. They kept on burnin', killin', and dredgin'. Within seventeen year, most o' Eastmarch ain't look nothin' like it did of old time."

"Why do they do it?" Sigrun asked. "Why do the Dunmer burn and destroy everything in this land?"

"To make it like their native Morrowind," Roggi answered.

"But why can't they just return to their native land?" Jonna, who had been quiet most of the time, spoke up. Her heart was already cheered by reason of the food, though she was still wary of Roggi.

"Don't want to," Roggi stated. "Though they left the Empire, the Dunmer still living in the Imperial Provinces are permitted to live according to their own traditions. It seems they think it easier to remain where they be rather than return to a home they would have to suffer the trouble of rebuilding it."

"That's terrible!" Sigrun replied.

"Sure it is," Roggi sighed. "But ain't nobody doin' a thing about it. Riften was safe for kins-folk, thanks to the Sons of Skyrim, but their presence is diminished o' late, thanks to Jarl Hemming Black-Briar."

"You know of the Sons of Skyrim?" Sigrun asked.

"Oh, aye," Roggi nodded. "Even met their firstborn once upon a time, Eirik I think his name was. Saw him slay a dragon with me own two eyes. An' I know it wasn't on account of drink, because I had been too damn sober, on account o' me tab at the Braidwood Inn."

Sigrun smiled, but it quickly faded when Jonna jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.

"I'd join his band if I could," Roggi muttered.

"Why haven't you?" Sigrun asked.

"I've had a hard time hereabouts," Roggi stated. "When the dark elves started destroyin' everything, I fled for me life. Shameful, I know, but I had lost a precious family artifact an' I had a good idea where it might be found." He turned towards the shield that was now lying by a bed-roll on one side of the cave, along with an axe, the bow, and a quiver of arrows.

"Once I found it," Roggi continued. "I ventured back out into the world, an' found it all changed. When I was found, they hunted me, the dark elves: wanted to make a slave o' me. But they never caught me. I fled west an' found meself this cave, an' I've lived here ever since. Taught meself to hunt food, an' I shepherd folk back across the border as cross it."

"And you've been doing this for seventeen years?" Sigrun asked.

"That's the truth of it," Roggi stated. "It's thank-less work, and I've had more than a few folk as tried to rob me, even after I gave 'em help. But someone has to take care o' kins-folk out here. The Empire damn well ain't doin' it. Shor's balls, they've practically given Eastmarch to the dark elves while they suck the cocks o' the high elves." Roggi drank from his bottle, then opened a small barrel and offered them a small hunk of cheese and strips of salted meat.

Sigrun thanked him for the food, which she shared with Jonna, then asked: "How many people have you saved?"

"Quite a few, actually," Roggi replied. "The first one was an old priest o' Ysmir, or as the Imperials called him a'fore they bowed down to the elves, Talos. He was the one as convinced me to not just stay in my cave, but to protect those I found and lead them back across the border to safety."

"Ysmir," Sigrun noted. She remembered that her father had been called Ysmir by the Greybeards. "You said Ysmir, not Talos?"

"Same thing," Roggi returned. "The old priest stayed with me many a day a'fore he decided to leave. It was he as also told me about things that happened outside o' Kynesgrove. How the Empire had betrayed us to the Thalmor and sold out Eastmarch to the dark elves. It was he as shared the truth with me."

"The truth?" Sigrun asked. "What truth is that?"

"The old truth," Roggi said in a whispering voice. He then scooted closer to the women, as though he would share with them a great secret. Jonna backed away, but Sigrun remained in place.

"Long ago, a'fore the time o' empires an' moots," Roggi began. "The Nord people worshiped the Divines according to the way their Atmoran ancestors did: by the names their ancestors knew 'em by. Kyne you've heard of, what they call Kynareth. Stuhn an' Tsun instead o' Stendarr an' Zenithar, an' Jhunal instead o' Julianos. Dibella an' Mara we knew as the names they're called now. Then there was the hidden gods, ones whose worship was forbidden in the time when Skyrim was taken into the Empire: the World-Eater, the Fox, Ysmir, and Shor, the creator of man."

"And you worship these gods?" Sigrun asked.

"They was the gods I'd known as a child," Roggi returned. "Now I know 'em by their right names, thanks to that old priest. He told me, 'The Empire has abandoned us, therefore we should abandon the elvish names of gods we've worshiped generations before there was ever any Empire.'"

Sigrun nodded, but did not respond.

"Well," sighed Roggi. "It's a morning's journey from here to Whiterun, assuming nothin' bad happens. Too late to start now, so you may stay here if you want. There's warm blankets an' the water down there is good an' clean. I'll sort out some food for your supplies: stuff that'll last an' keep you on your feet."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Sigrun stated. Jonna was lying against her shoulder: during the talk of the old names of the Divines, she had fallen asleep.

"Your friend ain't lookin' good," Roggi pointed out. "Now I'm no healer, but I have some stuff as have helped me when I feel sick on me own. Let me help at least in this ways, an' prove meself to you."

Sigrun sighed. "Alright. But you have to taste anything you offer her first; that way I'll know whether you're trying to poison us."

Roggi chuckled, then went over to where a large pot had been simmering over a hidden bed of coals. He then appeared with a wooden bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. Within said bowl was a hearty soup of a dull, slightly yellowish color. Sigrun knew it from the smell: her mother made a stew of the remnants of the meat of chicken and several herbs that grew in the little garden that cured almost any ailment she had suffered. Nevertheless, she had Roggi taste the soup before offering any to Jonna. After a minute passed and no abnormal signs appeared, she gently roused Jonna awake and gave her the soup. Roggi seemed to guess that they wanted to be alone and so let them be, while Sigrun and Jonna talked about what had happened.

"Jons, I'm surprised to hear you did this," Sigrun stated. "I mean, I hoped that you would come looking for me. But I didn't think you would be so afraid. I'd have thought you'd single-handedly take on all of Skyrim to find me."

"I don't know where I was at that time," Jonna sighed. "You were in danger and that was all that I could think about. I guess I became more thoughtful since you were away: you seem to do quite a bit of thinking, and without you, I felt that I had to do some thinking myself. I'm sorry that it crippled me." She smiled.

"What?" Sigrun asked.

"You, Sig," Jonna stated. "You were reluctant to go on our little adventure, as I recall. And yet you slew...how many dark elves was it?"

"Seven," Sigrun replied.

"All on your own!" Jonna exclaimed. "I didn't know you were so savage, scalping that one elf. And what you said: 'I'm sending you to your dead gods.' That's some cold shit to say to a bastard you're about to kill."

"Well, they called on the Tribunal, and not the new one," Sigrun stated. "Ma told me about the legends of the Nerevarine that she had heard in her travels in mainland Morrowind. Two of them were killed for sure, and the third no one knew for certain."

"True, true," Jonna nodded. "Still, you always seemed quiet and reserved, and yet you plowed through seven slavers like they were nothing but a few filthy skeevers!"

"I guess I became more aggressive since you were away," Sigrun shrugged. "You're always so brave and ready to fight, and without you, I felt that there wasn't going to be anyone else to save me except myself."

"Well, then," Jonna said after a loud sneeze. "I don't think we should be separated again. If we do, I'll be paralyzed by over-thinking and you'll kill half of Skyrim. Born of the storm indeed! Your da was Dragonborn, before long, we'll be calling you Sigrun Stormborn!"

Sigrun smiled as she laughed. "You're too kind, Jons."

They talked thus for a while, until Jonna had finished the soup. Then, feeling rather drowsy, she fell asleep against Sigrun's shoulder. While she was thus sleeping, Sigrun made a soft 'pst' sound, and Roggi made his way back to where they were sitting.

"Is there anything else you need?" he asked.

"Let me ask you a question," Sigrun said. "If there was a way to ensure that no one would harass or enslave folk in these parts, what would you say to that?"

Roggi scoffed. "I'd say the only way that'd happen would be to take New Gnisis back from the dark elves an' make it Windhelm again. It'd take at least a generation to un-fuck what they did to the hold, but it'd be nothin' short a miracle."

"What if that were possible?" Sigrun asked. At the present, it wasn't even likely. There was certainly no hope that two, or even three, could overcome the Dunmer of Eastmarch.

"It would be a godsend," Roggi said with a smile. "I've come to care for the kins-folk I've met in me watch, but me one true love is the juice o' the wheat an' barley."

Sigrun smiled in return. "Jonna would have liked you in happier times. Might even have challenged you to a drinking game."

"And I'd have taken her up on that offer," Roggi returned. He sighed grimly. "But there ain't no sense in hopin'. Tis a lost cause, lass; savin' Eastmarch."

"Why do you say that?" Sigrun asked.

"To save it," Roggi stated. "Would take an army. But from what I've heard, this new Emperor don't take kindly to us Nords. Stripped us o' our weapons, places new laws every damn day, restrictin' the freedom o' honest kins-folk: chains alone we lack to complete our slavery! There ain't much more freedom in the west than out here in the east."

"But what if we could raise an army?" Sigrun asked.

"Why, you in the market for war?" Roggi returned. "In that case, you'd need a lot more experience than you have, I'd say. The Civil War sapped everyone's will to fight, so it'll take more than what you've got to convince kinsmen to fight and die for you."

"I don't expect people to fight for me," Sigrun said. "I would hope that they would want to fight for a free Skyrim. A land where they aren't hanged upon the city-walls for petty crimes or live in fear of being enslaved."

"And I'd be the first to sign up for that," Roggi stated. "Any world where I can put down me bow an' axe and pick up a flagon to drink in time o' peace is a world worth fightin' for. But what are you, lass, alone, nameless, and without honors, hmm? Who'd fight for you in such a state as y'are now?"

"Jonna would fight for me," Sigrun stated. "She's as close to me as a sister. And I'm not without any feats of my own: I slew seven Dunmer slavers in the midst of a storm last night."

"Seven?" Roggi asked. "A fine start for a warrior, an' a shield-maiden. Though I see you ain't got no shield. You should look into gettin' yourself one: if you make protectin' Skyrim your goal, it'd make a good symbol to bear a shield."

"I'll see about getting a shield, then," Sigrun replied.

"Perhaps one day," Roggi said. "If I'm not killed a'fore then, I'll join you. Perhaps then you'll be at the head of an army an' we'll drive out the Dunmer from Eastmarch together. But for now, we must rest. In the mornin', I'll lead you an' your friend through the shortcut to the road."

Sigrun nodded, but did not immediately fall asleep. The memory of her captors was still fresh in her mind, and though Roggi was not a Dunmer, she was still wary. She wondered if she would ever look upon a man who was not her father without fear. At length, her eyes became too heavy to prop up and she fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.

(AN: Lots of stuff mentioned in this chapter. But have they found themselves a new ally, or at least a potential one? And what will happen once they return to Whiterun?)

(Last year, I hadn't played Skyrim since January, as I stopped to look for work and had no strength to play from February onward [because you know]. But then in December i started playing again. And i replayed where the Greybeards speak to you, and afterwards i asked Arngeir what they said: they do indeed call the Dragonborn 'Ysmir'. Not sure if it has to do with the over-soul thing [which might give you a hint as to the outcome of this story], or with the concept of 'mantling', which sounds like a poor excuse for retroactive continuity. But in retrospect, it does make sense that Eirik would be referred to as 'Ysmir', even when Crixus called him the 'Wulfharth' to his 'Tiber Septim.')

(About mantling, it seems ridiculous that one could change set events and people of the past: after all, the daedra and Divines may not live in linear time, but mortals certainly do. And why does Kirkbride have an obsession with walking? Walk-About, Brass-Walk, sideways movements, and 'walk like you'. But, if you believe such nonsense, then it is quite likely that Tiber Septim was not as bad as people said he was, and only became so because Crixus, as both his descendant, 'heir' and a kind of anti-Shezzarine, 'mantled' him, thus giving Tiber Septim the negative aspects. Once again, that gives away plenty of hints at what may or will happen further down the line)