(AN: I must commend the patience of all of you readers who have been patiently waiting for me to update this story. Surely it has been a long time.)

(But I won't bore you with another "disturbing" and "unnecessary" author's note. As you could see in the last chapter, I had to do some real memory work to get myself back on track with where this story was, as opposed to always thinking about where it is going. Now, at least, things are back on track and I can make the little baby-steps back to publishing once a week again.)

My Own Little Army

Sigrun and Erik at last arrived on the eastern side of the hill upon the city of Whiterun. The sun had already passed its noon-time position in the sky, and mid-afternoon was well on its way. As they made their way around the side of the hill over to the main entrance, they saw people waiting by the sides of the walls of Whiterun; these were the family members of those being strung up on the walls as a warning. But they were not permitted to take them down, for Imperial soldiers were overseeing their execution and would not permit them to bury their kin. As they made their way towards the main gate, Sigrun noticed Erik looking grimly at the dead bodies, his lips quivering wordlessly.

"What?" she asked; her voice was not as harsh as it had formerly been with him. The sight of the dead moved her with grief and pity, and she didn't feel in the mood for posturing.

"They have things like this in the west, on the borders of the Reach," Erik replied. "Forsworn erect wooden crosses and skewer their victims on them; always Nords. They...cut off their limbs, scar their symbols onto their dying, broken bodies...and cut out their hearts and steal them for their own profane rituals." He turned to Sigrun. "I hear it's like this in Eastmarch also: everywhere in Skyrim that was stolen away from us, our people are being butchered like cattle."

"This cannot be allowed to continue," Sigrun grimly stated.

When they came at last to the gate, they found a guard who ordered them to surrender their weapons. Erik held his bow and protested that he was a hunter by trade and was selling his wares. To this, the guard put his hand on his spear and said that he could be put in the Whiterun prison for poaching. At this point, Sigrun interjected.

"What my brother is saying," she stated. "Is that we're hunters...but of men. I mean, people. Sell-swords. We're looking for work, that's all: we like to keep our weapons on us at all times. Our line of work is very...dangerous, and you never know when you could get jumped."

"I see," the guard replied. "Well, you won't have to worry about being jumped in Whiterun. The Emperor's ban on weapons means that only us guards have weapons. If you're looking for work, the new Fighters Guild will be what you're looking for."

"Wait, Fighters Guild?" Sigrun asked. "What about the Companions?"

"The Jarl's declared them outlaws, Emperor's command," the guard replied. "Fighters Guild is the place to go for sell-swords in Whiterun now. Now, if that's all there is, I'm gonna have to ask for your weapons now."

Sigrun gave her sword to the guard and urged Erik to do likewise. Once their weapons were surrendered, the gates were opened and they passed into the city.

"Brother?" Erik whispered.

"I had to think of something quickly," Sigrun hissed back at him. "Just be glad you're alive."

They made their way across the main thoroughfare of the Plains District, directly towards the Bannered Mare. Approaching the busy central portion of town, they saw a wooden pole had been placed in the middle of the central plaza. Upon this pole were numerous papers, posts of all kind, written in the Common Tongue for all those that could read. Sigrun and Erik walked over to the post and began eying them one at a time. Even as they were reading, one came from the direction of the Cloud District and hammered a new paper onto the pole; Sigrun quickly pulled the hood of Erik's cloak over his head and held his head down, despite his protests.

"Keep your head down," she said. "You'll thank me later."

"What is it?" he asked.

"This new post," Sigrun said. "Looks like a beard ban."

"A what?" Erik exclaimed, struggling against Sigrun's hand upon the back of her head.

"Keep your head down!" she insisted, gritting her teeth in a smile at those who dared to look at them. "It says just that. We should get you a scarf to hide that beard of yours, if you like keeping it."

Sigrun led Erik into a shop just ahead of them and there purchased a scarf for Erik; she had a few septims left from the last time they were here and Jonna gave her a bit of her own share. The Dunmer who had kidnapped her had taken her gold and she had precious little left. With the scarf, she pulled off Erik's hood and wrapped it around his lower jaw, hiding all sight of his beard.

"There we go," she said. "We'll just pretend that you're sick or can't speak or something. At least it'll keep you warm when we go up north."

"Go up north?" Erik asked.

"Yes," Sigrun returned. "We're not staying here too long."

"Wait, what?" Erik asked. "I wanted to get some bearing here. You know, I had adventures of my own planned out before our little run-in..."

"How's about this?" Sigrun asked. "We're going to look for my sister; there's something for you."

"Yeah? And then what?" he asked in return.

Sigrun looked around the shop and saw the shopkeeper going on about her business, unaware of them. Sigrun then turned back to Erik; "We go north as far as Dawnstar. We need to see a man about a sword."

"And then what?" Erik asked.

"Then you stop asking questions!" she hissed. "Or I'll take that scarf off and let them cut your beard."

"Well, excuse me, if your prisoner still wants to know what you have planned for him..."

At that point, there was a sound outside of commotion. Curiosity got the better of them and they ran outside of the shop. Right there, on the steps of the Bannered Mare, they saw a person had been thrown out of the bar: a Nord man with gray-blond hair. A Dunmer and an Imperial came out of the bar after him, their faces bloodied and their hands curled into fists. The Imperial held the Nord down with a boot to his throat while the Dunmer rained blows down upon the pinned man.

"I know that man," Sigrun said. She let Erik out of her sight as she approached the brawlers and pulled the Imperial away, taking his boot off of the Nord man's throat. But that was just enough for him to get a handle on himself, and he seized one of the Dunmer's fists in his hand, then delivered a swift kick to the elf's mid-section. Thus free for a moment, the Nord staggered back onto his feet and turned toward his rescuer.

"Oh, Sigrun!" he cried out. "There you are! Haven't seen you in gods know how lo...behind you!"

Sigrun scarcely had time to turn around before the Imperial grabbed her from behind, pinning both of her arms to her body. Rather than struggle against him, she curled into a ball and, using his own weight against him, rolled him over her back and onto the ground. The blond man struck the Imperial in the face, then stumbled as he tried in vain to get back on his feet.

"Roggi," Sigrun said to the Nord man. "Do you know where...behind you!"

Roggi spun about dramatically, as though he would face the Dunmer opponent attacking him, only to receive a blow straight to the face. The second blow didn't come, for he delivered two swift blows that sent the dark elf back, drawing blood from the blows. Meanwhile, Sigrun was pinning the Imperial down and delivering blow after blow to his head.

"Do you need me to step in?" Erik called out.

"No, you stay there!" Sigrun replied.

But the Imperial was not playing fair. A hidden dagger he drew from his belt and dove into Sigrun's side; even as she was clutching her side, he turned her over and pinned her down beneath him. Erik had missed the knife until it was too late, as well as Sigrun's order to stay there once she was pinned. He ran over to the Imperial, took his head in his hands, and drove his knee into the Imperial's forehead three times. Sigrun jabbed up into the Imperial's face with her fist, then pushed him off of her and crawled back onto her feet. Erik offered his hand to her to help her onto her feet, but she stared at it.

"I didn't need your help," Sigrun retorted.

"That's not what I saw," he replied. "Now what about your friend there?"

"He's not my..." Sigrun's interjection was cut short as the Dunmer's body slammed into hers, pushing her back onto the ground. Erik seized the Dunmer and held him down as she got back up and Roggi, who had been fighting the Dunmer, stumbled over to him with a threatening look in his eyes.

"Now then, you silver-tongued charlatan!" Roggi slurred, gesturing toward the Dunmer. "Take back every damn word you said, or I'll break your teeth!"

"I stand by what I said, you snow-backed dog!" the Dunmer defiantly retorted. "Unlike you, the living Three are on my side and will repay you for this indecency!"

Roggi struck the Dunmer in the face, then aimed another blow at his face but instead swatted the air.

"Alright, that's enough!" a voice cried out. Roggi turned and saw the hold guards on their way to the center of the square. All of them were armed with spears.

"You know the rules," one said. "Brawling in the city limits is illegal. You three are off to the prison cells; you two are free to leave."

"That's bullshit!" Erik exclaimed. "This Imperial stabbed her with a knife!"

"Not likely," one of the guards returned. "Weapons are banned in the city."

"I have the knife in my damn side," Sigrun groaned. The guard examined the blow, then turned to the Imperial.

"Well?" he asked.

"That Nord b*tch pulled it on me!" the Imperial lied. "She tried to castrate me; I turned the blow in self-defense and it drove into her side."

"That's not true!" Sigrun exclaimed. "He's lying!"

"I would never!" the Imperial retorted. "I'm not some mead-swilling, law-breaking barbarian!"

"Kinsman," Sigrun said to the guard. "You can't let this..." The guard punched her in the face.

"I'm no kin of yours," he replied. "And you've got no place being uppity; Imperial law states that an accused is guilty until proven innocent. Therefore it is incumbent on you to prove that the knife doesn't belong to you." He then turned to Erik and Roggi.

"As for you two," he said. "I see that you haven't been keeping up with the latest laws." He then turned to Erik and pulled the scarf off his face. "A public shaving and forty stripes are your due."

"What?!" Roggi exclaimed. "That's bullshit! What kind of justice is this?"

"Keep talking, drunk, and you'll spend more time in the lock-up," the guard retorted.

"Wait!" Sigrun spoke up. "You can't hold us: we're friends of the Jarl."

The guard paused and turned to Sigrun. "Evoking the Jarl's name to cover your crimes?"

"Go and ask him," Sigrun said. "Tell him that you've arrested the sister of his chief advisor's daughter. See how he likes that!"

"Is that so?" the guard laughed. "Well, the Jarl knows everything here in Whiterun. Let's just go have a chat, ask him about you, hmm? If he don't know you, then you're in for the chop."

"You'll kill me?" Sigrun asked.

"We decide the law around here," the guard replied. He seized Sigrun by her hair and shoved her to the other guards. "Take her to the Wind District with the others: let her see the punishment of her companions. That way, she'll be ready for her punishment if the Jarl don't know about her."

They were dragged across the remainder of the way to the Wind District. In the center of the second level, the place where once was a statue of Talos there was now a pedestal where they were being dragged. Where Jorrvaskr once stood there was now a large stone structure with flags upon the walls, all of them bearing the sign of the crossed swords: the sign of the Fighters Guild. But the stones beneath it were marked with black, as though a great fire had recently taken place on the site where the new structure had been placed.

Even as they were being dragged off, their torment did not end. The Imperial and Dunmer ran after them; the Imperial threw mud and animal feces at them, while the Dunmer began, of all things, preaching to them.

"Your time has ended, humans," he said. "Your kind should not be here. Your existence is a mistake; a cruel joke played for far too long by the trickster Lorkhan. But soon you will see; that which is divine cannot die. The chief of the Three lives still! The one who was denigrated as a false deity will return to claim his chosen! The time of man has ended; soon Vehk will return and take his chosen ones into the sky to become gods once again!"

Sigrun barely paid attention to his words at first, but once she heard 'your existence is a mistake', his words seemed to have an otherworldly affect on her. Her vision became black and she thought she was swimming in a warm, viscous ocean of inky blackness. A jolt went through her as she recalled that she had seen this before and knew the terror that was happening: something was invading on that peaceful, comforting ocean, something that wanted to destroy her. With a jolt, she opened her eyes and found herself lying face down on the ground in the Wind District.

She clasped her hand over her mouth; almost instinct was to cry out, but she remembered what situation she was in and what was about to happen. Slowly she rose to her feet and realized with a shock that she had been dropped in the street and frankly forgotten by the guards and the crowds surrounding them. For the present, no one seemed to notice that she was no longer held under guard; in fact, no one seemed to notice that she was even there at all. A crowd of inquisitive passersby turned towards the commotion, eager to see what the guards were up to that got so many riled up: as they passed by her, Sigrun waved her arms to get their attention, but they didn't notice her at all.

What's happened to me? She thought to herself. Could it be an invisibility spell? She could still see herself; but suddenly into her mind came another thought. If she were invisible, she didn't want to break the spell before she could do something with it.

Carefully, and trying not to bump into anyone or make a sound, she crept along behind the crowds and came to the square where once stood the Gildergreen. Here a wooden stage had been erected and upon that stage, Erik and Roggi were made to kneel while the guards held them down. An Altmer in Imperial garb stood before the crowds, with a knife in one hand, and addressed them.

"The Emperor demands that Skyrim conform to the rules of the Empire," the elf said, amid a chorus of boos (and even a few scattered cheers). "As in Cyrodiil, the ancient ban against the ostentatious beards of Nords will be enforced here in Skyrim. Let these lawbreakers serve as an example of what shall befall those who defy the Emperor."

No one seemed to notice the young woman creeping through the crowds, past the hold guards, and onto the stage. But Sigrun was eying carefully everything that was going on. Having said his peace, the Altmer seized Roggi by his knotted beard and put the knife to it. Sigrun seized the elf's thin, yellow hand by the wrist, and drove the knife into the wrist of the hand that held the knife. With a loud cry of shock and pain, the Altmer sprung back, spewing blood upon the stage.

"Seize her!" one of the guards shouted.

"Erik, Roggi! Run!" Sigrun shouted to her companions.

Sigrun surmised that the spell was broken and she had little to no amount of time before she would be overwhelmed herself; she decided to make the most of it. Pushing the guard who held Erik aside, she made a leap off the stage and down toward the Plains District. But her companions had not been idle; Roggi tore the knife out of the Altmer's wrist, covering both of them in a spray of crimson blood, and Erik had struck one of the guards that came up behind Roggi to take him back into custody.

The guards were in a scattered panic, trying to restore order. No one knew where the woman had come from, and now people were shouting and crying out that the escapees were armed. Chaos erupted among the throngs of curiosity seekers in the Wind District, and the guards rushed to keep them from breaking out into a riot. More than this, there were some among the crowds who used the chaos to their own advantage: not every Nord in Whiterun was submissive, though all of them certainly suffered in silence. Now that they had a pretense, one who stood up against the new Imperial laws that had taken away their dignity as well as the Companions, they used the chaos to riot.

Sigrun and her companions had the cover to escape. Yet even so, their escape was not an easy one. No sooner had they arrived at the gate of Whiterun but the hold guards attempted to close the gate to stop them.

"Get through!" Sigrun shouted as they ran. "Get our weapons once we're outside!"

They sprinted through the swiftly closing gate, just barely making it through. At once they attacked the guard at the gate and burst into the little gate-house across the drawbridge. Sigrun found her sword - the one she had borrowed from Jonna - and Roggi and Erik both found their bows and quivers. But while they reached for their weapons, the hold guards had mobilized on top of the walls and were raining arrows down upon them. Erik took a shot to the back and fell down on the ground; Roggi, meanwhile, found his family shield from the weapon store and held it over him, protecting him from missile fire as Sigrun placed one arm of his on her shoulders and dragged him away into cover.

"Can you stand?" Sigrun asked.

"Gah! I...I think so," Erik gasped.

"You have to do better than 'think so' if you wanna get out of this," Sigrun snapped back; from the top of the wall, orders were being barked out to hold fire and open the gates. The guards would soon be in pursuit.

"I'll manage," Erik said through gritted teeth.

Slowly he got back onto his feet, and then the three of them staggered away west and northward. None of them had escaped Whiterun unscathed; Roggi was still half-drunk and sporting one too many blows to the face.

They ran for as long as they had the strength in their limbs to go on. They knew they could not stop until they reached the mountains that divided the southern borders of Hjaalmarch and the Pale with the northern border of Whiterun; likely they were still being pursued and there was nowhere for them to hide upon the golden tundra plains. So they ran and they ran, going as fast and as far as they were able. By and by they saw the walls of a wooden fort on the horizon, sitting between them and the foot of the mountains. But they did not immediately leap to run thither; instead, they made their way over to a dry gully and hid beneath the shelf of earth, out of sight of anyone either before or behind.

They were a ragged, exhausted trio, more dead than alive. In all of what had happened, Sigrun had forgotten the knife lodged in her side; the exertion of the escape and its ensuing flight had sent the blood slowly pouring out from the wound, draining her of energy and making her weaker and weaker. Erik also had an arrow in his back and was bleeding himself; Roggi's bruises and cuts from the brawl in the Bannered Mare were not bothering him, as he was still sobering up. That they had been able to run this far, in such conditions, was nothing short of a miracle.

"Shor's balls!" Roggi exclaimed. "That was amazing! I had no idea you were that good!"

Sigrun said nothing, as she was so low in energy that she felt on the verge of passing out once again. But she fought on, desperate to master herself long enough to reach over and pull the knife out of her side and not give in to the weariness and darkness. Roggi turned about and saw that she was struggling to remove the knife.

"Here," he offered. "Let me help you."

"No!" Sigrun cried in protest, swatting the air in vain. "I can...d...you...you're drunk..."

"And right now," Roggi said, stumbling to his knees. "I'm your only hope. So swallow your pride; it'll kill you faster than this knife."

Roggi pushed aside Sigrun's swatting hand and took a look at her bleeding side. They had no water to clean the wound and only the clothes on their backs to use for swathing. He removed his cloak and tore off a strap from it, then his hands brushed against Sigrun's armor.

"Hey!" Sigrun breathed. "Don't...take...vantage...I'll keekura..." Her words slurred together into a mess of indiscernible babble.

"I need to take off your armor," Roggi retorted. He turned to Erik and waved him over. "By the Nine, I won't be takin' advantage of you, kinswoman. C'mon, Erik; give us a hand."

Groaning in agony, Erik crawled over and took Sigrun's hands in his own. She protested, kicking her feet in futile attempt to push them off of her. Roggi removed Sigrun's breastplate and laid it aside; beneath she wore a surcoat of steel rings, through which the dagger had been thrust. Unfortunately they ran into another problem; her surcoat was long and bound to her by a belt about her waist: Roggi began fumbling for the belt.

"F...fu...fu..." Sigrun stumbled. "You...summava..."

"Kinswoman, listen," Roggi told her. "Unless I make a sure binding, you'll keep bleedin' out and die. D'you want that?" Sigrun's head lolled lazily from one side to the other.

"Now, to do that," he continued. "I gotta take off your coat o'mail. Don't worry, I'll keep your goods intact. Now let's do this quick."

Roggi removed Sigrun's belt, then brought the strip of cloak onto his lap as he prepared to make his move. Placing a hand on the dagger, he pulled it out in one swift motion. Sigrun cried out in pain, flailing her arms helplessly against those who tried to save her. Once the dagger was out, Roggi lifted up Sigrun's coat of mail and pulled her tunic up, revealing her pale, bloodstained stomach. With quick hands, Roggi wrapped the strip of cloak around Sigrun's stomach, tightly around the wounded side. Once that was finished, he pulled her tunic back down and covered her up with her chain mail. Then he turned to Erik and had him take his hands off Sigrun and remove his leather tunic and cloak.

"How..." Sigrun asked. "...didduno..."

"How to mend wounds?" Roggi concluded. "What, you didn't think I lived for years in Eastmarch without ever takin' hurt? No; helpin' kinfolk out in Dunmer territory ain't a safe task. I had to learn how to mend me own wounds."

Erik grunted and groaned as Roggi removed the arrow from his back. Meanwhile, Sigrun began to drift into sleep; her weariness as well as her wound was beginning to overtake her. But despite this, she feared to close her eyes. Concern over her wound as well as the images that had been haunting the hours of waking and sleeping made her fear the hours of night. She knew that she had to stay awake, if only to stave off sleep. She looked at Roggi, who had pulled the arrow out of Erik's back and was wrapping his wound with the strips of cloak.

"H-Hey...you..." she breathed. "C'mon over here when you're done."

"Who, me?" Roggi asked. Sigrun nodded softly. The bearded man approached and knelt down beside Sigrun. "A moment ago, you wanted to take me head off. Now you're wantin' me by your side? You're an odd one, kinswoman."

"Don't...let me...fall asleep," Sigrun returned, swallowing hard. "Now...tell me, where are we?"

"Not a clue," Roggi replied. "Never been this far west a'fore."

"You know...what I mean," she retorted. "Didn't you...see...what's up this gully?"

Roggi peered up above the ledge of the shallow cliff under which they were hiding, then turned back to her. "There's a camp there. Too much to hope for that it's empty." Sigrun nodded.

"Can't...fall asleep..." she stated. "Still...being chased..."

"Not right aways, no," Roggi shook his head, his knotted beard moving as he did.

"Safer...in camp...than out here," Sigrun replied. She took a deep breath. "Alright, I need you to hit me."

"What?" Roggi exclaimed. "I must be more drunk than I thought! Sounded like you asked me to hit you."

"Yes," Sigrun nodded.

"Are you drunk?" Roggi asked. "Nah, it's that wound o'yorn. Lost too much blood, ain't thinkin' clear-like."

"Just shut up and hit me," Sigrun returned. "Work me up. When I take off, you and him..." She gestured with her head to Erik. "...follow after me. Give me cover."

"He can't even draw a bow from that wound," Roggi stated.

"Hey, you," Sigrun said to Erik. "Can you fight? Can you still draw your bow?"

"Don't worry about me," he replied grimly, still smarting from her treatment of him.

"This is insane," Roggi returned. "It'll be guarded, and three men can't take an armed camp; to say nothin' o' a drunk an' two wounded kinfolk."

"Hit me, dammit!" Sigrun groaned. "We'll get that fort. And don't slap me gently; hit me as hard as you can, right in the face."

Roggi was still hesitant to strike her, his eyes blurring from his inebriation. Erik, meanwhile, was smarting from his wound as well as other things. He crawled over to the side of the hill, pushed Roggi aside, and delivered a swift fist to Sigrun's face. Her head recoiled from the blow, and when it came back, her eyes were burning with an invisible fire and her chest moved up and down like a bellows. Roggi gestured for Erik to step back as he strode back apace and gave her room.

Then, to their surprise, Sigrun let out a loud roar, leaped to her feet, and took off toward the walled fort, in spite of her wound. The men looked at each other, then picked up their bows and followed on behind her. Roggi bore his shield in the same hand that held his bow, while his right hand fitted an arrow into the string; at his right, Erik began fitting an arrow into the string of his bow. Already the scouts on the walls of the fort spotted them, but a swift arrow from Roggi and Erik struck two of them down. Meanwhile, Sigrun ran full on towards the sealed door, shouting aloud as she sprinted towards it. She struck the door with her shoulder and sent a quiver through the bound timbers: but it didn't break.

"It's boarded shut!" Roggi shouted, as he fired off another arrow at one of the watchers on the fort's wall. "It won't open that way."

"Then we force it open!" Sigrun roared back, before charging again shoulder-first into the door.

"You won't do it that way," Erik added. "You're not big enough."

"Fuck...you!" Sigrun shouted as she slammed her shoulder against the door.

"You can't do this alone," Erik stated. With another shot he took a bow-wielding Bosmer watcher from the walls; then he threw down his bow and threw himself against the door. His shoulders were broader than Sigrun's, and with his added strength, the door began to buckle against the board sealing it from the other side.

"Roggi!" Sigrun shouted at the older man. "Cover us!"

"Absolutely, kinswoman," Roggi replied, drawing out another arrow from his quiver.

Again and again, Sigrun and Erik thrust themselves against the door, sending violent quakes through the wood. Yet they didn't seem to be getting anywhere; Sigrun's berserker rage was still burning with the fury of a forest fire, and Erik, though wounded, refused to let his wounds slow him down. Roggi kept his eyes peeled sharply, taking out any one who appeared above their heads on the wall. Sometimes more than one would appear and Roggi would have to draw his shield out to protect the two below the gate and fend off an arrow. So they were kept quite busy during their assault.

Suddenly there was a terrible crack. Sigrun and Erik pushed against the door once last time and they burst asunder, the board binding the door having been broken. But no sooner had they stumbled in but they found themselves before a thicket of spears from the defenders of the fort. Roggi sent an arrow at the nearest one, sending down one spear. Sigrun picked up the spear and parried the thrust of another spear-bearing bandit, then drove the tip into the bandit's chest. On the other side, Erik had rushed the spear-men, grabbing two of the spears with his hands and wrenching them out of their hands: with one he fought and fended off the other spear-men, and the other he threw lance-like, impaling one who came up behind on the walls, with bow drawn to shoot at them.

Now that a melee had broken out and there was no room for arrows, Roggi dropped his bow and, using his spiked targe as a weapon, charged into the fray. Two spears he turned aside with his shield, while another one passed underneath; the head of the spear made a shallow cut on his shin, but the worst hurt was throwing him off balance. For as the spear glanced off his shin, it passed between his legs and tripped him up as he ran toward them, sending him and the spear-holder to the ground. But Roggi's shield was still in hand, and he used it as both shield and weapon against these bandits.

One by one, the three Nords fought the bandits, slaying them and trading wounds. When at last only two were left, they dropped their weapons and fled the fort. Sigrun stood amid the bodies of the slain; blooded, chest heaving from the last throes of her fading berserker rage, and covered in more wounds than a knife to the side, but alive and victorious. Erik and Roggi both looked upon her, aghast and nigh flabbergasted.

"That was amazing!" Roggi exclaimed. "I ain't never seen one take on so many at once like that! You-whoever taught ye to fight knew their shite!"

"I'm with him," Erik said. "From slipping through the guards' hands to kicking some serious ass! How do you do this?"

Sigrun could give no answer; in fact, all she could do was gasp in exhaustion.

The ragged group searched the fort, and found that no other bandits were to around. They did manage to find a couple of maps in the little thatched barn in the center of the fort: from these they learned that they were in a mining camp on the northern borders of the hold of Whiterun, called the Halted Stream mine. It was out of the way, and they could hide here for as long as they needed to avoid the hunting guards of Whiterun. The mine had been overrun by bandits sometime during the Great War, when the Legion began concentrating their forces down in Cyrodiil to combat the Dominion and the larger forts were abandoned, leaving the countryside of Skyrim even more lawless than was usually held.

They spent the rest of the day searching the fort's exterior: despite their success, they were in no mood to go into the dark, dreary mine. However, their restraint was rewarded. In the barn, they found a few supplies they could use for themselves; food, drink, whetstones for sharpening swords, and weapons as well. Each of the men took an axe and a spear for themselves, as well as arrows sturdy and long enough for their bows.

Sigrun meanwhile examined Jordis' sword, which Jonna had given her what felt like a long time ago. She decided that she would return it to her once they met her again: in a troll's cave somewhere in the snows, if she recalled it rightly. As for herself, she would find something or other for weaponry here in the fort. Among the loot in the barn she found a kite shield, painted with the colors of Morthal, the lake town of Hjaalmarch: it was unlike the round shields that were commonplace in Skyrim. While the others searched on, she wiped the blood off her face and drew signs upon the shield with the blood of her enemies. It seemed appropriate, in some way: this was her second battle, and she had come through victorious. But these were not Dunmer slavers; some of them were Nords, kinfolk as Roggi would have put it. Perhaps it was a strange feeling of closeness to the ones she had slain that caused her to draw symbols upon this shield in their blood: if they had any strength within them, she felt that they deserved the honor of having their strength live on with her.

The day wore on, and so did their search. The men dragged the bodies outside of the fort and placed them downwind from the fort in a heap, then sealed up the door and secured it from assaults from without with another board where the old one had been. Meanwhile, Sigrun searched the fort's barn for anything for herself. There were swords and axes in some number, but none of them quite spoke to her or felt right while swinging. She put the weapons in a hoard in the barn and sought out anything else of interest she could find. She found a ledger that listed all the owners of the Halted Stream fort since the Great War: apparently it had changed hands several times. But among them she found something that piqued her interest: a book entitled The Legend of Lovensvrede.

But there were more pressing issues for them. The twilight was coming and cold winds blew down from the north. They lit a small fire in the midst of the camp, in the fire-pit the bandits had made for themselves. Around this the small group huddled, while Sigrun poured over the book in the light of the fire.

"So," Erik spoke up. "Just as a thought, what should we be doing next?"

"What d'ye mean?" Roggi asked.

"Well, I left Rorikstead in search of adventure," Erik replied. "Then this lass here made me her prisoner and dragged me to Whiterun. She would have put me in chains and traded me in for a bounty if we hadn't run afoul of the Imperials and their Elven masters. Not so sure if I want to follow her, to be honest."

"Well, she did rescue us," Roggi stated. "An' she's a kinswoman. We Nords needs to stick together, least ways since we're under assaults from all sides." He looked over at Sigrun. "But I think we should get her thoughts on this."

"Hmm?" Sigrun asked, looking up from her book. "Well, we're not going anywhere tonight. We're sore and bloodied and wounded from the days work, and we're still on the run. I think we shouldn't make any decision until tomorrow."

"But what do we do tonight?" Erik asked.

"We should take it in turns to keep watch over the fort," Sigrun replied. "Since you're making noise, you get first watch. The rest of us will try to get some sleep."

"I thought ye didn't want t' sleep," Roggi interjected.

"That was before," Sigrun dismissed. "The things that happened in Whiterun messed me up."

"What things?" Erik asked.

"Well, th..." Sigrun began, but then suddenly realized what she was about to say. What would they say if she shared her dreams and visions with them? Erik was already frustrated with her and, she surmised, was wanting to be on his own. Instead, she shook her head. "It's nothing. Likely just my wound. But I'm feeling better now, just...exhausted." She turned to Erik. "Now go and get on your watch. Roggi goes after you, and I'll take the last watch."

Erik rolled his eyes, then took his bow in hand and climbed atop the platform that overlooked the gate. Meanwhile, Sigrun wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and Roggi did likewise. In the dim light of the fire, which they both tended, Sigrun continued to read her book. It told of a family of warriors from the Rift, whose proud heritage stretched back to the time of Ysgramor: the women of this family were each of them warriors, and they each had a sword that was made for them and perfectly balanced. The namesake of the book, Lovensvrede, was a blade of steel imbued with the blood of a dragon and carved with runes. There were a series of notes stuffed into this part of the book, which Sigrun guessed were not part of the original book: she believed that one of the bandits sought out this blade and was seeking out any information about this book.

"How did ye do it?" Roggi asked.

"Hmm?" Sigrun asked, turning to him.

"How did ye escape from th' guards at Whiterun?" he asked. "One minute, we're all bound an' bein' led t' our shame an' punishment; then th' next minute, you're setting us free an' gave th' guards th' slip. How did ye do it?"

Sigrun placed the book down, a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face. She had no answer for Roggi; for there was no proper answer that she could give him. She didn't even know how it happened herself. One moment she had blacked out, and the next moment she was lying on the ground, completely invisible until she touched Erik and Roggi. Those dreams and visions of the darkness and the pain that sought to destroy her were spine-tingling, and would give her an uncomfortable feeling even after they were over: a feeling of utter and sudden chill, as if she was suddenly doused with freezing cold water, as well as a shortness of breath.

"I don't know," Sigrun answered. "I suppose I was just clever."

"Well, there's more to ye than I saw that day in Eastmarch," Roggi replied. "An' look what th' three o'us managed t' do!" Sigrun nodded, slightly encouraged by his words. "Say, what are we gonna do t'morrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Sigrun asked. "We're going after Jonna. I...have a feeling that we'll find her in the southern borders of the Pale."

"An' then?" Roggi asked.

"Go farther north and deliver a sword."

"An' then?"

Sigrun shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, to be honest. Do something to save Skyrim from the Dominion, the Dunmer, and the Reachmen?"

Roggi nodded. "Fine goals. And with this'n small army o'yorn, it'll be done in no time."

She did not respond, for her thoughts began to come upon her mind. What he had said about how they had managed to take a fort with only three of them stood in her mind. Once they found Jonna, they would have four: if, after returning his sword to him, Havi managed to join them, then there would be five. Who knows what could happen if they had more on their side.

"My own little army..." Sigrun mused. What could she accomplish if she had a small elite force, as her father had the Sons of Skyrim. Moving in concert, perhaps they could break the power of the Empire and the Dunmer, and go a long way to restoring and liberating Skyrim. These thoughts swirled through her head as she drifted off to sleep, bundled in her cloak by the fire.

(AN: So there you go: a nice long chapter for you. But don't worry, this doesn't mean another dearth of chapters is on the rise. I've been reinvigorated by writing again, and hope to finish this story: especially now that I have a stronger idea on what is to happen going forward.)