(AN: So I went back and read a bit in The Dragonborn and the Lioness, as well as The Dragon and the Bear, in order to find the perfect place to send our heroines back. I believe I have found exactly that. One reason for going back was to see every circumstance that had to be circumvented in order to prevent an easy Empire victory.)

(Let's see if we can get somewhere.)

Victory Denied

When the women opened their eyes again, they saw that it was no longer night. The sun of a high morning was shining brightly, and the sound of the whistling wind could be heard. Jonna was the first one up, looking this way and that to take in their surroundings. The woods of Falkreath were far away, and they were now within the amber plains of Whiterun. Looking at her hands, she saw that the totem was gone: not even fragments of it were left.

"Well," she sighed. "No turning back now."

Sigrun was starting to stir from where she lay. Jonna helped her up, then looked about again. As far as the eye could see, there was not another soul besides themselves upon the plains. Though there was something in the west that caught her attention.

"Wow!" Sigrun exclaimed. "That was something!"

"Yeah, I know," Jonna replied. "Reminds me of our fight in Whiterun. Come on, now, get up. We need to hurry."

"Hurry? What's the rush?"

"There's smoke to the west," she said. "Rorikstead could already be burning."

The two of them got up to their feet and started running west as fast as they could carry themselves. Surprisingly, they found a renewed vigor within their bodies as they ran. The weariness of the previous night seemed gone, as though it had never been there to begin with. They continued running until the land began to gently slope upward, as the golden tundra gave way to the rocky gullies on the easternmost eaves of the Reach. Just there, they could see the wood and straw huts of Rorikstead gleaming under the morning sun. There were no cries, no sounds of alarm, and not a sign of fire.

"I don't understand," Jonna wondered. "I saw smoke. Where could it have gone?"

Sigrun had turned to the right, and then tapped Jonna on the shoulder. "Over there."

To the right of where they stood, some yards away, they saw a small camp of fur and linen tents arrayed around the remains of a campfire. As they approached the camp, they could hear the sounds of a heated discussion coming from those within the camp.

"...give away our position!" one voice shouted.

"Well excuse me, snow-back," another voice, likely elven, retorted haughtily. "For not being accustomed to your frigid wasteland. If I had known it would be this bad, I may have worn a warmer fur. Oh yes, that's right, you Nords bear your arms in these ridiculous costumes!"

"Shut up, little elf!" the first retorted. "We have to focus, it's almost time for the attack."

"Why should we even have him along anyway, huh?" another voice spoke up. "Ain't we supposed to be Stormcloaks or something? Word I hear is they ain't exactly friend-some to those as ain't Nords."

"I'm here because the High Justicar demanded it," the elf replied. "Someone with brains has to make sure this operation goes smoothly...and that none of you talk once you get caught."

"If we get caught," the third voice challenged. "I ain't spendin' the night in Dragonsreach Prison, that's a fact."

"Nah," the first one snarled. "This far west, it's Cidnha Mine you'll be in for."

"Silence, everyone!" the elf snapped. "We're close enough that they'll hear us, and then we'll really be in trouble. Frekke, don't worry about me: these helmets will obscure my fine elven features just perfectly. Make sure..."

"Hold, there," the first one spoke up. "Looks like we've got some company."

Sigrun and Jonna froze. The people in the camp had noticed them. The three who had been speaking stood up from the camp and walked towards them. The largest one, Frekke, was indeed a mammoth: he looked almost half as wide as he was tall, and only a third of that girth was fat. The two short ones were the first one who had spoken, also a Nord, and the elf, who quickly hid his face underneath a helmet typical of the holds of Skyrim; and the Stormcloak army. All of them were dressed in the gear of the Stormcloaks.

"You lost?" Frekke asked.

"Hold yer gut, Frekke," the other Nord spoke up. "I don't think they're lost; they're a gift from Dibella."

"Tch, like you even believe in the Divines, Serkur," Frekke scoffed.

"I think I just became a believer," Serkur remarked.

"What's this?" Sigrun asked.

"It's a Stormcloak camp," the elf Stormcloak replied. "Not a cooking pit. I suggest you two go back to your mothers at once, before we give you a sound beating."

"An' not just with our swords," Serkur jested. Some of the others joked along.

Jonna pulled Sigrun's head down and whispered into her ear. "Remember the plan. We have to prevent the attack on Rorikstead." Sigrun nodded, then turned back to the men.

"I don't see you clearing off," Frekke said, taking a threatening step forward.

"Why are you here?" Jonna asked.

"We're not here to sew quilts and blankets," the elf retorted. "Now you hear the man; clear off now!"

"You're Stormcloaks," Jonna stated. "But why are you here? There's no Imperials here."

"You don't tell me my job, little girl," Frekke growled.

"Last chance," Serkur said. "Clear off, or we'll do more than play with you."

"They've already seen too much," the elf demanded. "Don't let them get away!"

"To arms!" Jonna shouted, drawing her axe. Sigrun drew her sword and jumped aside as Frekke came charging at her. Jonna, meanwhile, had rolled underneath his arms and was now squaring off against Serkur. He drew a mace and took a swing at her head. Jonna ducked aside from the blow and drove her axe-head into his leg, sending him to the ground. She then turned to the elf and hit him upon the back of the head with the blunt side of her axe. Too soon she saw four others rising up from the camp: all of them armed.

"Oh, shit," she muttered to herself.

Meanwhile, Sigrun was dodging huge swings from the massive Frekke. He had a two-handed axe whose haft was as long as she was tall, and it kept her at a range where she couldn't strike him with her sword. Meanwhile, Jonna had picked up the hide shield that Serkur had slung across his back and was using it to fend off the blows from the other four who were focusing on her. Frekke had the other one, there was no need to worry about him. Jonna had her hands full, trying to fend off their blows. One came up with a sword-strike that she turned with the shield, but had to turn it back again as another axe strike from another came straight at her. The shield turned the blow, but the wood of the shield went back and struck her on the head. Jonna stumbled back, her vision clouded by blackish stars.

As she stumbled back, she caught her foot on a stone and fell backwards: a war-hammer swing that would have penetrated her mail and crushed her ribs went amiss as she went down. But now she was down and there were still four men coming after her. She rolled to her right side, holding her shield up to cover her body, and swung her axe, taking off the left foot of the hammer-wielder. As the hammerer fell to the ground amidst howls of pain, a sword and two axes came down upon her; only her shield saved her at the last minute. She brought her axe around and swung at one of the axe-men, but they had a shield and turned her blow. She was barely able to get back onto her feet before the next blow came.

Sigrun was still engaged with Frekke. He was quite a competent fighter, for every move she attempted to make, he was ready for her. She had to keep on her toes just to keep her head and limbs intact. Though she had plenty of training with sparring against Jonna, not to mention taking the Dunmer slavers by surprise in a rainstorm, she was once again facing someone almost twice her size. Her opponent knew it as well, for now he had relaxed his guard and laughed.

"You really think you can beat me?" he chuckled in his deep, booming voice. "You can't even scratch me with that sword of yours."

Sigrun came in for the attack, hoping to catch him off-guard while he was mocking her. But then his left hand came up and seized her sword by the blade. Before she could attempt to break it free, his right hand balled up into a fist and delivered an earth-shattering blow to her chest that almost knocked the wind out of her, and sent her sword falling from her grasp. The large man's strong hand suddenly seized her by the throat and began to squeeze.

"J...J..." she gasped, but to no avail.

But Jonna could not help her. She was now squaring off against three opponents at once. One of the axe-men got the head of his axe stuck in the size of her shield, and she wrenched the axe from his hand with a swing of her shield arm as she moved it to fend off a blow from the sword man. She brought her axe down into the shoulder of the second axe-man, but the blow was turned by the padded leather armor and conical masked helmet. She staggered back, but just then the sword man came rushing for her from behind. With quick reflexes, Jonna turned around and held up the shield to fend off the blow; the bosse turned the blade, then she dug the axe into the side of the swordsman, right above the belt. She turned about and saw the first axe man was reaching for his fallen weapon when their eyes met.

"No more!" he begged. "I yield! I yield!"

Perhaps he only did so to save his own life, against someone who had already bested four men by herself. Perhaps he also saw his comrade, the second axe-man, coming up from behind with his own weapon, ready to attack her unprotected back.

Sigrun's eyes were starting to go black, and she could barely breathe, when suddenly the hand around her throat was released. Frekke stumbled back, roaring in pain, with a pitchfork sticking out of his thick chest. He was roaring in pain at the one who had dared to stick him: a young man with long, flame-red hair.

"Look out!" he shouted.

Jonna turned around at the very last minute, and was only able to kneel down and hold up her shield. The blow was turned, and she thrust with the bosse into the second axe-man's stomach, sending him tumbling over her. She took her axe in hand and buried it in his throat, one of the few parts unprotected by armor. The first axe-man tried to run, but Jonna threw her axe into his back and sent him down. She then took another axe from one of the fallen and slew the one-footed hammerer. She had no cause to concern about Sigrun's safety: not anymore.

Frekke snapped the shaft of the pitchfork with his hand, and, still boiling in rage and the heat of battle, pulled it out of his chest, glowering at the ginger-headed man who had dared attack him: he was as good as dead. But Sigrun was not going to wait around for the giant man to bleed out. Picking up her own sword, she drove its blade through his throat, ending his life swiftly and without the slow, agonizing bleed-out. As he fell, she saw Jonna throwing her axe at a straggler, and then moving to finish off the wounded.

"My thanks to you, stranger..." she was half-way through saying, as she turned to her rescuer. But her words ceased upon her lips as soon as she saw who it was lying on the ground next to her.

It was Erik. He seemed much younger, may even have been as young as she herself was now, but there was no mistaking it. This was the same man whom she had happened across in the tundra of Whiterun several days ago.

"I was working in the fields," he replied. "When I heard the commotion. I thought somebody might be in trouble." Sigrun didn't answer, so stunned as she was; she didn't even offer her hand to help him up onto his feet. He turned to her and smiled.

"What's a fair shield-maiden like you doing all the way out here in Rorikstead?" he asked. "We don't get many travelers in these parts, certainly not this good-looking."

Sigrun was too shocked to say anything in retort, but suddenly realized that she was still inflamed from the heat of battle. Or maybe her cheeks were flushed? Just then, Jonna came running back, splattered with blood.

"Well, that's the last of them," she said. "I left two of them in case you wanted to ask them questio-...Erik! What are you doing here?"

"I live here," he said, gesturing back to the town. "My da owns the inn."

"You okay?" Jonna asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Still a bit out of it. Damn, that guy had an iron grip! My neck is still hurting." She made her way over to the two that Jonna left alive: Serkur and the elf. They were both tied, back to back, in sitting positions near their camp. Without their knowledge, Erik was trailing on behind them, interested in what they were doing.

"Stormcloaks," he muttered. "Out here? But Windhelm's miles away. What could they possibly want out here?"

"This was the attack," Jonna whispered into Sigrun's ear. She nodded, then turned her attention to the elf. She pulled off his helmet and, stabbing the ground with her sword and leaning upon the hilt, knelt down to look into his eyes.

"Now, then," she began. "What's a wood elf like you doing in a Stormcloak camp?"

"You'll have to kill me, snow back b*tch," he retorted. "I'll never tell you."

"Tough guy, huh?" Jonna asked. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but we just slew five of your men. We won't hesitate to kill you too."

"Then do it, already!" he returned. "A worse fate awaits me for this failure."

Jonna frowed, then pushed the Bosmer's face down almost to his knees, and dragged the wounded Serkur's head up by the hair across the elf's back.

"My leg!" he exclaimed.

"I'll hurt more than your leg if you don't start talking!" Jonna demanded.

"Please, let me go!" he begged. "I didn't mean no harm. Just runnin' me mouth, right? You wouldn't kill an unarmed man, would you?"

"Not if you don't start talking now!" Jonna insisted, tightening her grip on his hair.

"Who gave you the order to attack?" Sigrun asked.

"The elf did!" the man replied. "Please, let me go! I ain't even a Stormcloak. They made it damn impossible to make an honest living o' banditry."

"Silence, you fool!" the elf groaned from between his legs.

"I ain't dying for you, elf!" Serkur protested. "Gold is my god; gold and mead, and women with fat breasts and moist, loose..." Jonna punched him on the jaw.

"If you're not a Stormcloak, then what are you?" Sigrun asked.

"Just a nobody from Robber's Gorge," said Serkur. "Frekke was our boss; big fella."

"Why are you dressed as Stormcloaks?" Erik asked.

"We were paid to," Serkur replied.

"By who?" Sigrun asked.

"I dunno," Serkur answered. "Some elf. Never saw his face or heard a name. Wore black 'n' all, like them Thalmor. He's the one as sent Flindial 'ere with us: insurance, or something. I don't pay attention to my boss' business. Last boss we had broke me nose for snoopin'."

"He knows more than he's letting on," Jonna said.

"What else do you know?" Sigrun demanded.

"I told ye, I don't pay no never mind to my boss' business," Serkur replied. "He might o' told ye, if ye hadn't killed him!"

"No back-talk!" Jonna shouted, punching him again. "Tell us what you know!"

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you!" Serkur sighed. "Several weeks ago, some elves in black show up at our camp. Their leader tells the boss he has a job for'im: says we'll be rich as kings fer doin' it. Boss says yes, but the elf sent Flindial 'ere with us, and says we have t' dress up as rebels. There, that's all I know."

Jonna released his head and sent him back as the Bosmer Flindial straightened himself out.

"My superiors will hear about this," he threatened, speaking to Serkur. "They have eyes and ears everywhere in your little Empire. You and your loved ones will pay dearly for this betrayal." He then turned to Sigrun. "And as for you, are you going to kill me already or just stare at me?"

"Kill him," Jonna said, stepping aside. Sigrun rose to her feet, and drew the sword out from the ground. Jonna dragged Serkur away, but kept him bound.

"I die for the Dominion!" Flindial exclaimed loudly. Sigrun's blade went down and cut off his head in one, swift stroke. His lifeless body fell onto the ground, adjacent to where his head rested.

"Let him go," Sigrun said to Jonna, as she cleaned her sword. "But take his armor." Jonna stripped the padded leather surcoat and sash off of Serkur, then gave him a sound kick in the ass and sent him hobbling away with a bleeding leg. Meanwhile, Erik was watching the whole scene with amazement.

"What are you still doing here?" Sigrun asked him.

"I wanted to see what's going on here," he said. "Looks like something important. Bandits dressing up as Stormcloaks? Does this mean the truce is off?"

"Truce? What truce?" Sigrun asked.

"My da says the Empire and Stormcloaks signed a treaty several months ago," Erik began. "Put the war on hold to deal with the dragons. Granted, we don't see too much action out here in Rorikstead. The war's in the east, you know."

Sigrun turned to Jonna, a worried look in her eye. Jonna nodded, then approached the red-haired farmer.

"Go on, get out of here, Erik," she said. "We have work to do."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" he asked. "Who are you two?"

"Uh..." Sigrun stammered.

"We're a couple of adventurers," Jonna stated. "On our way across Skyrim, helping those we come across."

"Really?" Erik exclaimed. "Oh, I always wanted to be an adventurer myself. Hey, why don't you take me with you? Huh? I'm pretty handy in a fight." He turned to Sigrun. "I did save you from that big man, after all."

"That's true," Sigrun said, nodding.

"Just a minute, please," Jonna interjected. She then pulled Sigrun's head down and whispered into her ear: "Tell me we're not taking him on again."

Sigrun turned her head and whispered into Jonna's ear: "We need all the help we can get. Besides, it could be worse. Could be someone we don't know."

"But we barely knew him then," Jonna returned. "And he doesn't even know who we really are either."

"We need the help," Sigrun insisted. Jonna sighed, rolling her eyes, as Sigrun turned back to him.

"Alright, you can join us," Sigrun said, nodding.

"Yes!" Erik exclaimed. "I promise, you won't regret this. I've always wanted to do this. I'm brave, and I'll go with you wherever you need me to go." He then paused, looking back at the town, and turned back to them, an uneasy grin on his face.

"There's just one problem left to sort out."

The Frostfruit Inn was the main stopping place for those traveling to and from the Reach and greater Skyrim. It was as old as the town was, and saw the usual passersby and travelers. Today, there was a small crowd gathered about, eating and drinking in peace, as a bard by the name of Ange the Song-Bearer was singing the popular song that featured Rorikstead in its lay: 'Ragnar the Red.' Meanwhile, Jonna was undergoing the difficult task of trying to convince Mralki, the owner of the inn and Erik's father, to let him go with them. Sigrun suggested that she do the convincing, as she was more assertive than she was and could therefore get through to him.

Erik had let them know that his father was quite possessive, and so it made sense to have Jonna do the talking.

Meanwhile, the two of them were sitting at a table, quietly sipping from bowls of beef stew. Erik remarked how the vegetables in the stew were grown here in Rorikstead, by his hand and those of the other farmers. Sigrun nodded in affirmation, and smiled; the food really was top-notch. But in her mind, she was thinking on what had just happened. How had she let this giant get the better of her? Had she grown soft? Had the journey and all of the strange things that happened in her head made her delirious, or worse, incapable of defending herself? She sipped from the broth made of bone marrow, and thought about her mission.

The assault on Rorikstead was averted, thank the Divines. They now had to plan their next move. She thought back on the stories which her Father had told her about this time. She recalled the false moot, and the attempt to capture Ulfric at High Hrothgar. She also recalled armies being marched across the Jerall Mountains to the south: the passes had finally opened. Fresh reinforcements meant a swift and overwhelming victory for the Empire, as they soon marched upon Windhelm while Father was away in Solstheim. He would have to be kept here in Skyrim, and those reinforcements denied.

Unfortunately, this presented a problem. The one who sent these bandits on Rorikstead was certainly a Thalmor; if so, she knew that they would try to instigate the war again. Yet even with some time bought, those Imperial reinforcements would still arrive in Skyrim. Even if they set the Thalmor's plans back by a month or two, the truce might come to an end and the fresh troops would win once again. Denying the Empire's reinforcements would have to take priority first above all else.

Just then, Jonna arrived at the table and took a seat.

"Well, that's that," she sighed. "I just separated an over-attached father from his son; remind me to never do that again. Erik, you're free to come with us."

"Thank you, both of you!" he replied. "Now, where are you going?"

"South," Sigrun said with decisive confidence in her voice. "The passes of the Jerall Mountain must be closed."

"Great," Erik returned. "And how do you plan on closing them? Unless you have a giant who can block the passes with rocks, it won't be easy."

"I know," Sigrun commented. "And I don't think we could block them with soldiers."

"Why not?" Jonna asked.

"Not enough men," Erik suggested.

"Also Da told me that the southern holds were..." She noticed Jonna silently shaking her head at her. Sigrun cleared her throat. "...are under the control of the Empire. They'd notice armed men stopping the passes at the border."

"And I don't think we have enough time to build barricades across the borders either," Jonna grumbled. "So what do we do?"

Erik's eyes lit up. "Wait, what if there were someone who could close the passes for you?"

"One person?" Jonna asked. "Who alone has that kind of power?"

"A sorcerer, maybe," Erik suggested. "They can do anything with magicka. They might be able to conjure up a stone wall to close the passes quickly, or...or what about the Dragonborn?"

"Dragonborn?" both of the women asked.

"Yeah," Erik said, a smile on his face at proving his use. "They say he can move mountains with his Voice; and that he's sympathetic to the rebellion. Maybe he can help you?"

"That could work," Jonna nodded.

"Wait, what?" Sigrun whispered. "No! I thought we weren't supposed to..."

"He has a point," Jonna replied in a hushed tone. "How are we going to close the passes quickly without your da's help?"

Sigrun nodded, then turned back to Erik. "Alright, we'll go with your suggestion. Do you know where da...da Dragonborn is?"

"South, like you said," Erik returned. "Rumor has it, he's been helping the people of Falkreath. Small time stuff, then again, anything is small-time after defeating Alduin. So when do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready," Sigrun said. "You can get some weapons from the bandits. But don't dawdle, we need speed."

"I know, I know," Erik replied. He then rose up from the bench.

"Wait!" Sigrun interjected. "One more thing. Since you're coming with us, can you ask us a favor from your da?"

"What do you need?"

"Horses."

(AN: Okay, this one felt nice and concise, even at 4k words.)

(Oops, now they're back with Erik the Slayer, but it's not the one they remember. How are things going to be for them now? And what will happen when they arrive at Falkreath and if they find Eirik?)

(This next chapter is going to be really good, I can feel it!)