(AN: So here we come to the big chapter [hopefully we can get to 10k words here: we're getting our mojo back, if any of those other long chapters we've recently published are any indication]. This is the scene where things will start to kick off: one way or another, the war begins now!)

(In my many years of researching into Skyrim history, I've come to the conclusion that Balgruuf, while beloved as the first Jarl you encounter in the main quest and an "honorable" character, is quite flawed. For one thing, his steward lets on that he was bought off by Titus Mede to accept the White-Gold Concordant when it was signed. Though he "lets" the shrine to Talos exist in Whiterun [as well as Heimskr preach the truth of Talos, albeit in a satirical way meant to draw criticism from the areligious player-base], his dialogue suggests that he's afraid of the Thalmor, not very efficient as a ruler, and, while riding the fence, unofficially pro-Imperial. He also doesn't give a damn about his kids, most of which are as bad as Braith [especially Nelkir]. Sorry to say this, fans of manslayer's video game poop series, but he ain't that "ballin'".)

All Roads Lead to Whiterun

That evening, they all ate dinner around the campfire before retiring for the night. This time, however, Eirik and Mjoll ate little before disappearing into their own tent, sealing it off from the rest of the camp. Unfortunately, though they did their best to be quiet, everyone else heard what they were carrying on about within. Aerin went for a walk to cool his head, and Rayya accompanied him to make sure he didn't get in danger. Around the campfire, everyone else was minding their own businesses. Hod and the workers were deep into their dinners and mugs, talking about this and that and the various happenings in Riverwood and Whiterun. Ralof was periodically sipping from his tankard, a smile on his face every time he'd turn over and look at the sealed tent. Lydia was drinking from her own cup, also beaming widely. Next to her were Erik, Sigrun, and Jonna. Erik was focusing intently on a juicy piece of shredded chicken meat in his stew, while Jonna was going over their map. Sigrun, on the other hand, had her hands over her ears and her head between her knees; her face was flushed red.

"This isn't happening," she groaned. "I'm having another nightmare, I must be."

"Come on, now," Lydia returned. "They're grown adults, and they're married."

"But they're my parents!" Sigrun replied. "Do they have to be doing that in earshot of the rest of us?"

"That's anyone's guess," Lydia returned. "Although, given what happened these past eight days, maybe they needed some time together."

"What do you mean what happened?" Jonna asked.

"Him going off like that, her being full of doubt," Lydia commented. "They needed the time."

"But is that safe?" Jonna asked. "I mean, for them to, you know, do that while she's..."

"You are not having this conversation in front of me," Sigrun groaned.

"I wouldn't know," Lydia replied. "Although, to be fair, if you're interested in that, you might ask the priestesses in the Temple of Dibella in Markarth."

"No, not for me, I was just curious," Jonna returned. "Gods, that's far from my mind right now!"

"Really?" Lydia asked. "You never thought of settling down, having a few kids?"

"Well, maybe," Jonna returned. "But I'm not going to open my legs for any milk-drinker who asks." Ralof rolled his eyes and buried his face in his palm. "If I settle down with a man, I want it to be someone who's not just physically stronger than me, but can out-drink me."

"Why out-drink you specifically?" Lydia asked.

"Because I can out-drink anyone in Skyrim, and that's a fact," Jonna boasted. "And I'm not giving myself to anyone who's less than that."

"If you're the best drinker in Skyrim," Ralof asked. "How do you expect to find someone who can out-drink you?"

"That's the thing, isn't it?" Jonna chuckled. She then went back to her map. Sigrun continued keeping her head down, while Lydia took another sip from her cup. Ralof, seeing that the conversation wasn't to his liking, joined his brother-in-law and the others as they went on a round of drinking and singing "The Age of Oppression." Meanwhile, Sigrun laid down, wrapped herself in her cloak, and tried to sleep. Lydia nudged Jonna's shoulder.

"So, tell me," she said. "We didn't get a chance to finish talking earlier. Who is Sigrun to you?"

"She's my best friend," Jonna replied.

"But is she from the future, like you?"

"Well, yes. It's, uh, well..."

"What? Come on, out with it."

Jonna turned her head over to the tent, then back to Lydia. "She's their child."

"The one she has right now?" Jonna nodded. Lydia's expression widened into surprise, but Jonna shushed her down. Lydia's next words were spoken in a furtive, hushed whisper. "Gods above! Well, I could certainly tell that from the face. She's got my thane's hair, and especially the nose. Really? She's their child?" Jonna nodded again. "Wow! I should congratulate him for this."

"Not openly," Jonna replied. "We need to keep this a secret; just the five of us. You, me, Sig, and her parents."

Lydia nodded, then gestured with her mug to Erik. "What about him? Is he from the future too?"

"No, he's from Rorikstead," Jonna said. "He helped us defeat a group of bandits posing as Stormcloaks."

"I remember what you and Sigrun said when you came here," Lydia nodded. She took another sip of her drink, then noticed Jonna and the map again. "You're looking at that map like your life depended on it."

"Oh, it's just something Sigrun showed us," Jonna said. She then presented the map to Lydia. "She lined out places in charcoal on the map."

Lydia read each of them to herself, her lips moving silently as she read the words underlined. She then turned back to Jonna. "We should show this to someone with military training. They might be able to show us the tactical significance of these locations."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"I might," Lydia said. "Like for instance, Eirik and I have been past Valtheim many times. If you could control that, you'd be able to control the only east-west pass that doesn't go through snows and mountains. Pretty important, I'd say: especially if you're moving armies."

"Well, that's good to know," Jonna said. She then stifled a heavy yawn. "I need to sleep. Can you keep an eye on things for us?"

Lydia scoffed. "Can I? I'm a huscarl. It's my duty to keep watch. You just shut your eyes. If it looks like rain, I'll let you know."

Jonna cuddled up next to Sigrun and fell fast asleep. Half an hour later and the sounds died down in the tent. Those gathered around one by one drifted off into sleep, with Lydia the last one to keep watch. Eventually Aerin and Rayya came back, and the Redguard took Lydia's post as she went back to sleep. No rain or wolves bothered them the rest of that night.

The next day, the twenty-second of Morning Star, of the 202nd year of the Fourth Era. The huscarls prepared food for the company, and while they were eating, Eirik called them together to speak to them. He and Mjoll were, thankfully, dressed at the moment; but Sigrun still could not bare to look at them.

"Everyone," he said. "I have some news to share with you all. Some of you may be wondering why I was away for eight days; some of you already know. But before long, everyone in Skyrim is going to know. I took back the Rift, in accordance with the peace treaty I signed with the Empire."

"You did what?" Ralof asked. "How? And with what army? Those two girls?"

"Twenty Stormcloaks," Eirik replied. "Brought them over the border and into Riften in secret, then we stormed the keep." Many men, especially of Hod's workers, cheered loudly at this.

"However, I fear that we may have started the war again," Eirik continued. "Until we hear from Ulfric, keep your axes and swords sharpened and your armor shined. But don't look for peace: I fear the time for that has passed. Evgir Unslaad has come again." When he spoke those words, a soft tremor rippled through the ground and distant thunder rumbled.

"We'll be ready for whatever happens," Ralof said. "You have my word, Dragonborn."

Eirik dismissed the rest of them, then he turned to his immediate family.

"Ulfric plans to take Whiterun before First Seed," he told them. "It may take the rest of this month and half of next to make preparations for war, so we'll have to be ready. I need to go to Whiterun and speak to Jarl Balgruuf: perhaps I can convince him to join the Stormcloaks and prevent bloodshed."

"He won't listen," Lydia said. "He sees Ulfric as a selfish war-monger. I doubt you'll be able to convince him otherwise."

"But we can convince the people," Eirik returned. "And if enough of them are on our side, then perhaps Balgruuf will have no choice but to surrender the city without a fight."

"He's a Nord," Lydia replied. "He'd see fighting Ulfric as a chance for a glorious death in Sovngarde."

"We have to think about the future, Lydia," Eirik said. "The real war is with the Dominion, not with the people of Skyrim. One way or another, we must save as many as we can to be ready for the next war." Sigrun looked up at her father, her expression softening from frustration into one of admiration.

"What makes you think he'll listen to you?"

"I am the Dragonborn, and Thane of Whiterun," Eirik said. He sighed. "But, whether this goes well or not, we may be staring down a long and costly war. I will be gone for many days, may not come back."

"Don't say that," Mjoll replied. "You will come back, or by Shor, I'll fight my way to Sovngarde to bring you back to me."

Eirik smiled. "I wouldn't ask you to come with me, especially in your condition."

"It was only last month," Mjoll returned. "I still have four or five months before I'm encumbered by this child. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"You do know that I'm going into war."

"So what? I can still wield a blade, and until they kill me or I can't fight anymore, I'm staying with you."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Sigrun commented.

"So, then, who else of you will go with me to war?"

"I'll go," Lydia stated. "I'm sworn to your service, remember? Guard you and all you own with my life? You needn't ask, you know."

Eirik turned to the ladies. "I take it you two are going?" They both nodded.

"If they're going with you, then so am I," Erik said. "I've wanted to go adventuring, ever since I was young. What better way to do that then by going with you two? Did you really face a dragon?"

"We didn't face him, we used him," Jonna clarified.

"What about you, Rayya?" Eirik asked.

"Hmm?" she returned. "Oh, yes. I was just thinking about something."

"What's that?"

"I've heard of a powerful warrior recently arrived in Skyrim from Hammerfell," she said. "If half of the stories I've heard about him are true, he would be useful to your cause. Perhaps I could seek him out and bring him to you?"

"If you can, that would be appreciated," Eirik replied. "We could use all the help we can get."

"Well, then," Mjoll said. "Since we're going to war, we might as well get our things together, then."

Aerin was given some money by Mjoll and sent to find passage from Riverwood back to Riften, there to wait for their return. Eirik and Mjoll both had their armor - dragon-bone and Nordic carved plate - along with the Skall Greatsword and Grimsever, for their weapons. Jonna and Sigrun were still clad as they were, and armed as they were. Lydia wore her steel armor, in addition to her sword and shield, slung at her thigh and on her back; on her shoulders was a dark cloak to keep out the wind as they traveled. Erik had little to his name, only an axe and his farming clothes. Eirik and Sigrun assured him that they would get him some better gear once they stopped in Whiterun.

So it was that, once the sun was up and on its way towards the zenith of the day, the six of them left the skeleton of Lakeview Manor. The three horses that Eirik and the girls purchased in Riften they rode, with each of them doubling up on the horses. Eirik and Mjoll rode together on one horse, Lydia and Jonna on the other, and Sigrun and Erik on the third.

It was mid-afternoon when the little party at last arrived in Whiterun. The road leading up to the gates was crowded: pilgrims going to the Temple of Kyne in the Wind District, as well as the Gildergleam before its doors, or to join the Companions. Of the group, four heads were lifted up in high spirits: Whiterun was always a symbol of peace and the safety and familiarity of home to them. For Sigrun and Jonna, it was something else. They feared what lurked within the shadows; for Jonna, she feared running into Idolaf here. In her time, he was a broken wreck of a man: but now, things could very well be different.

At the stables, they handed their horses to the stable-boy, then joined the throng of travelers going up the road to the Plains District. As they made their way up, unbeknown to any of them, a newly-arrived rider dismounted and blended into the crowd of pilgrims. Nothing out of the ordinary: travel-worn clothes, a warm woolen cloak and hood to keep out the cold of the northern holds. Nobody would assume that this rider had ridden all through the time from Castle Dour on a secret mission. Unfortunately, she had no idea of where to find her quarry: the Thalmor were not as forthcoming with their information as they demanded the Empire be of theirs. Regardless, she knew that there were friendly ears here in Whiterun; perhaps ears that had heard rumor of where to find him.

Meanwhile, the group of six passed the Warmaiden's Smithy shop near the entrance of the city. They paused for a moment, the women watching the tanned Colovian woman working steel over the hot forge. As they waited here, Mjoll turned to Sigrun and Jonna.

"You know, if we're going to war, you two should be dressed in proper armor," she told them.

"We have chain-mail beneath our clothes," Sigrun said.

"I mean real armor," Mjoll returned. "Here, let's stay here and see what types of armor they have."

"Breaking up already?" Lydia teased.

"We all have business of our own anyway," Eirik said. "I have to speak with the Companions anyway. Lydia, can you check on Breezehome while they're busy? Make sure it's secure."

Lydia sighed. "As you wish, my thane."

"What about me?" Erik asked.

"You stay with us," Sigrun said. "You'll need some better gear yourself."

Eirik and Lydia went their own way, while Mjoll called to Adrianne Avenicci, the forge-master, to talk smithing. While Mjoll was discussing how much outfitting the girls would cost them, Sigrun pulled Jonna aside.

"While you were asleep, I talked to Da about the armor hereabouts," Sigrun said.

"Yeah? And?"

"And, there needs to be a change, especially if Da is going to be king or if..."

"Shh!" Jonna shushed. "Not so loud! We're in public, and the wrong people might hear us!"

"Still, we'll need superior armor for the war anyway," Sigrun said. "Do you think this lady could make some for us?"

"Wouldn't hurt to ask," Jonna said. "Don't be so damn obvious! You don't want to give us away, do you?"

Sigrun went off to speak to Adrianne, while Erik found her back-side particularly interesting. During the trip to Whiterun, she had ridden in the front position on the saddle, and he rode bare-back behind her. Not the most comfortable arrangement, but Sigrun didn't make it any better. Every now and then, she would wiggle her hips against him, which made him lose focus. Twice he told her to stop and she pretended not to hear him; after the third, she finally subsided. But she had done it enough that now he couldn't help himself but look. Jonna noticed this and punched him in the shoulder.

"Don't try anything," she warned.

He apologized, then fell in line behind her to examine the armor suits on the racks around Adrianne's forge. But ever and anon, he would steal a glance at Sigrun's posterior and quickly look away before Jonna noticed him.

Meanwhile, Eirik turned from the marketplace and made for Jorrvaskr. Already he was dreading facing down the Companions and giving them the news. It had been on his mind for the rest of the journey here. He hadn't shared this with Sigrun, for he had a feeling what she would suggest: convince them to take a side. Up the stairs from the market-square he went, a heavy burden upon his heart. At the blossoming Gildergleam, he took a right turn and began to ascend the steps up to Jorrvaskr. Off to his left, he could hear Heimskr preaching about Talos in his usual grandiloquent, some would say fanatical, manner. For the moment, Eirik ignored his words and pushed open the doors of Jorrvaskr.

"Hail, Harbinger!" Aela the Huntress greeted as he entered. "What brings you back home to Jorrvaskr?"

Eirik turned to the red-haired Nord huntress. "I have business in Dragonsreach. Get everyone together: I want to speak to them."

It didn't take but three minutes to get the Companions together. They sat down at the tables around the central fire-pit in Jorrvaskr. Eirik sat at the head of the table, with Aela at his left and Vilkas at his right. Once they were all seated, Eirik looked at them all slowly and carefully before speaking.

"Companions," he began. "I have troubling news. It seems the war will soon be coming to Skyrim again." A series of hushed murmurs spread around the table. Eirik held up his hand, and shushes followed, bringing them back to silence.

"What will you do?" Aela asked.

"It's not our law to take part in the squabbles of Skyrim," Vilkas stated.

"That wouldn't be of much help," Eorlund Gray-Mane interjected. "If the Empire decides to attack us."

"If they fight, then we fight back," Farkas, Vilkas' short-spoken twin brother, plainly stated.

"But not everyone here wants to fight the Empire," the Nord Njada Stone-arm interjected.

"Any true Nord should want to fight the Empire," the old Vignar Gray-Mane, Eorlund's brother, interjected.

"Just what are you insinuating, old man?' Njada returned.

"You heard him!" Torvar, the drunk, retorted.

"Silence!" Eirik cried out. "As Harbinger, it is my duty to judge this matter."

"I suggest that you keep in mind our traditions," Vilkas stated. "And choose wisely."

"Does the Empire care for tradition?" Vignar interjected.

"Enough!" Aela shouted. "The Harbinger still has the floor!" All were silent once again.

Eirik sighed. "It is therefore my judgment..." He looked up at each of them, then swallowed hard before speaking again. "It is therefore my judgment that I should no longer lead the Companions."

"What?!" everyone asked, one after the other, in different variations.

"I cannot uphold the traditions as Harbinger and serve Skyrim fully," Eirik continued. "I surrender Wuuthrad into the keeping of the Companions; let them choose a Harbinger to lead them."

"You brought honor to us," Ria interjected. "Who else would we follow but you?"

"You brought peace to Kodlak's soul," Aela stated.

"You recovered the lost fragments of Wuuthrad," Vilkas added.

"I must serve the people of Skyrim," Eirik said. At that moment there came into his mind a realization. Sigrun wasn't there to hold his hand or whisper into his ear, yet he knew precisely what had to be done. He knew before she entered into his life that this would happen sooner or later. "Because I'm the Dragonborn; I can't afford to hide when our homeland is threatened."

"We're not hiding," Vilkas replied. "We're protecting ourselves. It's better that we stay out of the war than destroy ourselves by taking sides. That's been our tradition."

"Aye," Eirik stated. "And that's why I have to leave you. Rather than force you to break with tradition, I will take up the fight alone." He stood up from the table. "May Ysgramor's spirit guide you all through the dark days ahead." He then made his way out of the hall; not a word was spoken in his wake. Two figures, the red-haired huntress and the old silver-headed elder, came after him.

"How can you do this?" Aela demanded. "Abandoning us just like that?"

"It's not a matter of abandoning you," Eirik replied, turning around to her.

"Then what is it?" she asked. "Why are you leaving us?"

"I have a war to win," Eirik said. "And I can't do that as your Harbinger. Believe you me, if there were any other way that I could save Skyrim and remain your Harbinger, I would do it. The people in that hall are some of the finest folk I've met in my time in Skyrim: I'd be proud to fight and die alongside any one of you."

"Then do it," Aela replied.

"The traditions of the Companions bind us," Eirik sighed. "To violate them would destroy the Companions."

"Then we'll break them," Aela said.

"What?"

"I've been itching for a good fight," Aela replied. "Something more than wild beasts and the Silver Hand. It always pissed me off that we had to sit on our asses in Jorrvaskr while a bunch of milk-drinkers got all the glory in battle. Take me with you. Let the others be bound by their traditions, while I bring glory to Hrotti Blackblade and all the women of my family."

"You would be defying the traditions of the Companions."

"Do you not want me to go with you?"

"Well, we do need all the help we can get, but..."

"But what?"

"If word gets out, others will go after their own parties. It will destroy the Companions; your reputation will be lost forever."

"And what of Skyrim herself?" Vignar spoke up. They both turned around to face the old man. "You speak of the traditions of the Companions, but what about the tradition of Talos? He is the heart of the Empire, and now the Empire forsakes that heart. And we're told to do nothing about that?" He pointed to Eirik. "You, you're a Stormcloak. You know who the Empire's masters are: the damned Thalmor! They would destroy us, even as the Falmer tried to wipe out our ancestors in the Night of Tears. And who was it who led five hundred of Atmora's finest warriors to bloody vengeance?"

"Ysgramor..." Eirik replied.

"You're damn right, boy. So I say why shouldn't the Companions be allowed to fight in this war?"

"Yes, exactly!" Aela chimed in. "You see? You're not alone here. You don't have to be."

Eirik looked at both of them, then slowly nodded. "Very well. We'll put it to them again."

"I'll do it," Aela replied. "After that scene you made, it wouldn't do anyone any good to have you go back there." She then turned about and walked back into Jorrvaskr. Vignar, however, remained outside.

"So, you've finally come to your senses, then?" Vignar asked.

"How do you know so much about me?" Eirik asked. "I can't recall..."

"My sister-in-law Fralia," Vignar said. "She told me all about how you saved my nephew Thorald from the Thalmor. She said that you were a supporter of the true High King, Ulfric Stormcloak. I've asked around, and Sinmir told me that some of his fellows in the rebellion say that you're loyal, but indecisive."

"Who is he again?" Eirik asked.

"Big fellow," Vignar said. "You've probably seen him in the Bannered Mare. Bold as a bear, and a true son of Skyrim at that. He openly denounces Balgruuf for his lackluster security." Vignar scoffed. "I'm rather inclined to agree with him, and not merely because he supports Ulfric." He then took a step closer to Eirik. "Now then, you said that war is coming? Have there been any new developments that haven't reached us yet?"

"Yes, there have," Eirik nodded. "I took Riften from the Imperials with twenty Stormcloaks."

"Talos' beard, did you?!" Vignar exclaimed. "Well, now, that's something to be proud of! I doubt the Empire will take kindly to that. Now, how soon will we be fighting?"

Just then, the old man was shoved aside and fell to the ground. From the stairs his servant Brill came running down after him, while Eirik glared at the one who did it.

"Down on the ground, old man," Idolaf sneered. "Right where you Gray-Manes belong."

"Idolaf," Eirik returned.

"What do you want, milk-drinker?" Idolaf returned. "I should bash your face in."

"Really? You praise the Dragonborn one moment, then threaten him the next?"

"You're scum!" Idolaf sneered. "A shit-wallowing half-man, sucking on the teat of your fat cow when you're not sucking Ulfric's cock."

"Bold words," Eirik said. "Did Crixus share those with you when you were raping his huscarl?"

"Shut up, asshole!" Idolaf retorted. "You know nothing."

"Oh, I know more than you think," Eirik said.

"'Oh, I know more than you think!'" Idolaf mocked, then flashed him that fiendish grin.

"You dare call yourself a Nord?" Eirik asked. "Raping women, bowing and scraping before a man who hates our kind, kissing up to your Imperial masters? What next? Going to lick Elenwen's ass for a few gold coins, will you?"

"I'm more Nord than you, prick!" Idolaf laughed. "I actually have the right hair-color, unlike you with your shit-colored elf locks!"

"Go home to your mother, boy!" Vignar snapped, as Brill helped him to his feet. "Maybe she can teach you to fight with your fists, like a real Nord, and not with words like an Imperial."

"You call me an Imperial, old man?" Idolaf retorted. "The way I hear it, this fucker isn't even from Skyrim! Isn't that right, Eric? You've got too much Nibenese in you, don't you? You're not one of us. Why don't you go back to your own country?"

"If you have nothing better to do, then why don't you piss off?"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Just then Sigrun ran up to where they were standing and, noticing that there was company, approached Eirik and called him by name.

"We need you at the blacksmith," she said.

"Back off, b*tch," Idolaf told her. "I'm teaching this milk-drinker a less..." But he had no more chance to speak when Eirik's hand seized him by the throat.

"Don't talk to her that way!" Eirik growled. He then dropped him to the ground.

"Is she your new squeeze?" Idolaf retorted. "You dumped the cow for this skinny girl? You like them young, do you? Just like the filthy dark elves."

"What's your problem?" Sigrun asked.

"'What's your problem?'" Idolaf mocked. "Your lover is my problem!" He turned back to Eirik. "You think you're tough? Trying to throw your weight around my squeezing my neck? Well, I'll cut yours, then! See if Ulfric or your precious Talos will save you when you're choking on your own blood!" He leered at Eirik, grinning and waving his tongue in his face.

"What's all the commotion here?" a Whiterun guard demanded.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Idolaf sneered.

"He attacked Vignar Gray-Mane," Eirik stated.

Idolaf walked over to the guard, his eyes on him. "Who? I don't see anyone here by that name. After all, Vignar is always cowering up in Jorrvaskr, isn't he?" Sigrun gasped as Idolaf handed a bag of gold to the guard behind his back.

"You're right, Battle-Born," the guard replied. He then turned his masked helmeted face to Eirik. "Ain't wise to mess with the guards, thane. We've got plenty on our hands as it is without folk cryin' wolf. Remember that even the Jarl's good graces has its limits." He then walked away, while Idolaf was angrily glaring at Eirik.

"You watch your back, milk-drinker!" he threatened. "Someday soon, the Gray-Manes won't be there to hold your hand, and when that day comes, I'll have you, your fat cow, and your little side b*tch as my b*tches. You can count on that!" With that, Idolaf took off, strutting proudly as the citizens and guards saluted him with admiration.

"Of all the people to decide to choose me as an enemy," Eirik mused. "Why did it have to be him?"

"Who was that?" Sigrun asked.

"Idolaf Battle-Born," Vignar said. "Son of Olfrid, and heir to the Clan Battle-Born. They used to be our friends...until Olfrid forsook our traditions for Imperial coin. Now he and his clan strut about like they own Whiterun." He scoffed. "Pompous oafs, the lot of them!"

"That's Idolaf?!" Sigrun exclaimed. "What a prick!"

"And he has the guards in his pocket," Eirik said. "Because his father is a friend of the Jarl. Which means I can't do anything about him." He sighed, then asked Vignar if he was alright.

"I'll be alright when the Empire is driven out of Whiterun, and Talos worship is permitted freely, as is our right," he returned, then hobbled back into Jorrvaskr with Brill holding his arm.

"Now, then," Eirik said, turning to Sigrun. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Oh, the blacksmith," Sigrun replied. "I made a suggestion and she asked to see your armor. That's why we needed you."

"I see," Eirik returned. "Well, I think I can stop over there."

As they turned to leave, Sigrun looked back and watched Idolaf making his way up the steps to the Cloud District. As he was leaving, she shook her head.

She looks nothing like him, she thought to herself.

Meanwhile, the group of pilgrims entered through the city gates and poured into the streets of Whiterun, on their way to the Gildergleam. One of them, however, stepped aside from the group and went down to the stream by the city gates. To all those watching, she looked as though she was going down to the stream to fill her water-skin or to wash the dust of travel from her face. But that was precisely what Rikke wanted them to believe. For as she was going, she saw Eirik coming down the way toward her. She lowered her head, brought her hood back, and ducked aside to avoid eye contact. But, as she ran her fingers through the cold waters of the stream, she noticed that Eirik wasn't following her.

Rikke craned her head up and noticed that he was walking over to the blacksmith. To her surprise, she saw that the blacksmith with whom Eirik was speaking to was a ruddy Imperial, and not a Nord. She expected him to only patron Eorlund Gray-Mane, the renowned blacksmith whose family, according to reports from their allies in Clan Battle-Born, were staunch supporters of the rebellion. She couldn't make out all the words that were spoken - the young women with him seemed to always speak in hushed tones that couldn't carry over the busy sounds of Whiterun; but the words exchanged between the Nord and the Colovian woman could be heard.

"...said you wanted to see my armor," he said. "Well, here it is."

The Colovian woman let out a sharp whistle. "By the Eight! I never thought I'd see armor made out of dragon bones. Quite an imposing sight! Now, then, your friend tells me that she'd like some adjustments made to this armor. There's little I could do to improve on this: if dragon bones are as strong as I've heard, this could easily rival the fabled ebony armor of Morrowind." Silence followed, and Rikke craned her head to see what was going on. The Colovian woman was examining the armor that Eirik wore.

"Well, I suppose I could do something about these exposed arms," she said. "Maybe add a little protection around the leg area. Hmm. I see you're not wearing a helmet either."

"I don't wear helmets," Eirik returned. "I want my enemies to see my face when I charge into battle."

"Hmph!" the woman scoffed. "A foolish boast. You'll need your head protected." She paused for a moment. "I think I can do this, but it'll be quite expensive. Ever since the Red Year, the price of Morrowind ebony has increased seven-fold, at least.

"Couldn't you use something else?" Eirik asked.

"I could," she replied. "But anything short of ebony would be greatly inferior. It would be like pairing a steel breastplate with a hauberk of threadbare cloth."

"What about stalhrim?" Mjoll asked. "The enchanted ice from Solstheim. They say that's as strong as ebony, even stronger."

"It's damn hard to forge, especially into rings," the Colovian replied. "Plus, if the stories are true, the Skaal don't share their secrets with just anyone. It'd be easier just to cobble up some Morrowind ebony and work with that."

There was silence again. Rikke looked up and noticed that Eirik and the women were gathered in a tight circle in deep conversation. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but it sounded important. At last, they broke their circle and Eirik spoke to the blacksmith.

"I'll let you know when I have some ebony for you," he said.

"Alright, then," she replied.

The little group departed from the shop, and started walking towards the Wind District; the second level of the city of Whiterun. Rikke had to see what they were up to, and why Eirik was trying to purchase ebony enhancements for his already impressive dragon-bone armor. She left the stream and followed them at a distance, always sure to avoid drawing attention to herself.

"You can't do it," Sigrun said to Eirik as they were leaving Warmaiden's. "You can't leave Skyrim now. That's exactly what happened before, and disaster struck."

"I'm more concerned about the Companions," Jonna said. "They need a leader now, more than ever. It should have been you, Eirik."

"Isn't this war a matter of destroying our traditions?" Eirik asked. "And yet you ask me to destroy their traditions?"

"Because I know what's going to happen!" Jonna hissed furtively. "Once Crixus becomes Emperor, he forces the Fighters Guild back into Skyrim and has Jorrvaskr burned!"

"He wouldn't dare," Eirik uttered. When Jonna snickered, he knew that he had spoken wrong.

"You know him better than we do!" Jonna returned. "How can you say that he wouldn't dare? You know how much he hates our people."

"That's true," Eirik replied. "You're right."

"So what's the plan, now?" Mjoll asked.

"Try to convince the Jarl to side with the Stormcloaks," Eirik said. "Perhaps I can use my pull as Thane to prevent a bloodbath."

"And what if it doesn't work?" Sigrun asked. "What then?"

"What do you suggest?"

"I have an idea," Sigrun said. "In my time, Crixus had his Placators go about Skyrim, preaching about how his policies were actually for the better of our people while we were suffering under them. I think we need something like that."

"You want me to lie to the people of Whiterun?"

"No, of course not!" Sigrun returned. "Convince them of the rightness of the rebellion."

"I'm not one for speeches," Eirik replied.

"Just speak plainly to them," Sigrun said. "You can convince the people, and if not, then, well, you've tried."

"That's not very reassuring."

"Well, sorry," Sigrun replied. "I'm making this up as I go along." She sighed in frustration, and stepped aside, her hand clutching her head.

"Are you alright?" Mjoll asked.

"I'm fine," Sigrun retorted. "I just need a moment. Go on ahead without me."

Eirik turned to leave, but Mjoll and Jonna stood beside her.

"Tell me, what's troubling you?" Mjoll asked. "You seem on edge."

"Well, I am kind of," Sigrun replied. "No, not 'kind of', I am on edge. Shor's bones, I didn't realize how difficult it would be to actually save Skyrim. Part of me just hoped that I'd be able to go wherever I wanted and see the beautiful land of ours."

"Hey, Sig," Jonna said, placing her hand on Sigrun's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, you hear me? You don't have to shoulder this burden alone. You've got us with you."

"Yes, child," Mjoll added, placing her hand on Sigrun's other shoulder. "We're here for you, understand?"

Sigrun breathed a heavy sigh, then looked up at the faces of her mother and the girl who was as dear to her as a sister. She smiled, then pulled them both into her arms, closing her eyes tightly as she squeezed them. When she opened her eyes, she noticed something strange.

"Where's Erik?"

"I thought he was just behind us," Jonna said, looking back down the main road of the Plains District.

"I'll go find him," Sigrun offered. "You two follow d...Eirik."

"Will you be okay?" Jonna asked.

"Don't worry, Jons, I'm not made out of glass," she replied. She then turned around and began combing the Plains District for Erik. Mjoll and Jonna then continued on their way after Eirik. As Sigrun was walking, a hooded pilgrim approached her.

"Pardon me, kinswoman," the stranger said. "I need to speak to you."

"What do you need?" Sigrun asked, a little taken aback by her response.

"I overheard you talking with that tall Nord," she said. "Something about convincing the Jarl to join the Stormcloaks."

Sigrun's eyes widened with surprise. "Were you listening to us?"

"That's not important," the pilgrim dismissed. "I want to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life. Whatever you may have heard about the Stormcloaks is not true. They're not patriots; they're deluded rebels following a self-serving ego maniac."

"What?!" Sigrun exclaimed. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"Would you rather us submit to the elves and surrender Talos, the heart of the Empire?"

"I would rather Skyrim be united and strong," the pilgrim replied. "That's the only way we're going to defeat the Dominion."

"Hammerfell beat the Dominion on their own."

"Only because the Empire weakened them enough to be beaten."

"But couldn't defeat them outright?" Sigrun retorted. "If the Empire were so strong, why did they give the Dominion everything they asked for with the White-Gold Concordant? Why does the Empire deny the divinity of Talos, the founder of the Empire, the one whose divine descendant saved all of Tamriel from the hordes of Oblivion?"

"We didn't have a choice," the pilgrim replied, her facade slipping. "We barely survived the Great War."

"Barely survived, but were able to weaken the Dominion enough to be beaten by an independent Hammerfell?" Sigrun asked. "Which is it? It can't be both ways."

"It's complicated," the pilgrim retorted. "Ulfric is a war-monger. His war has done nothing but cost the lives of Skyrim's sons and daughters: first among them High King Torygg. Did you know he used the Voice to Shout him apart?"

"From what I hear," Sigrun replied. "It was a duel, after our own traditions. Was it not? Or does the Empire truly control what traditions we can and cannot uphold? Do they not have such dueling traditions elsewhere in the Empire? Why is it that only ours are invalid?"

"Because they threaten the Empire!"

"Like Talos? Does worshiping him threaten the Empire? What about the Thalmor? Don't they threaten the Empire? Why are they allowed to work freely in Skyrim? Why doesn't the Empire do anything about them instead of letting them persecute her own people?"

"You don't know anything if you say such things!" the pilgrim retorted. "And I should have known better than to try and talk some sense into you!"

Sigrun turned and went on her way. But while Rikke tried to maintain a strong face, she was surprised to hear a young woman say these words. She, like Tullius, was of the belief that the younger generation in Skyrim were tired of hearing their elders whine and moan about Talos and how poorly the Empire treated them. As such, it was assumed that the younger generation respected the Empire and her cosmopolitan ways, and only the old, bitter, and ignorant sided with the rebels. Yet here was something completely different.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss what she had heard. She chose to believe that the Empire was strong, the only thing keeping peace and order in Skyrim, and that the Stormcloaks would succeed in nothing more than slaughtering more of Skyrim's sons and daughters. Yet she had said, in defense of the Empire's actions, that it was weak: she admitted that they had been weak. How this young woman had managed to get her to confess this was beyond her. Worse still was what her own thoughts were now bringing about, in response to this young woman's words:

We're strong, but we keep making excuses for why we let the Thalmor act freely in our lands. We 'keep the peace', yet we turned a blind eye to the Reach, and gave Ulfric the opportunity to act. What about the many dead who've been slain for worshiping Talos, the founder of the Empire? Who would avenge them? Who would avenge the sons of Skyrim whom the Empire slew?

"No!" she retorted, speaking aloud against her thoughts. She quickly silenced herself to prevent a scene. The life of a rebel is less that of the life of a loyal Nord.

But what about those who've died as a result of this war? More than once the Empire had executed people who were not in league with the rebels at all.

The cost of war; a cost that lies on Ulfric's head, not the Empire's.

"Stop it, Rikke," she muttered to herself. "You're starting to sound Crixus." She started looking around for Eirik: he was her mission, and her doubts would have to wait.

After asking around the people milling about the Plains District, Sigrun heard that someone resembling Erik went into the Bannered Mare. Hoping that this next time wouldn't result in another fight, she readied herself and walked inside. The warm, stuffy atmosphere hit her in the head as soon as she passed through the door. She looked around the common room, hoping to find some sight of Erik. Her eyes went to the bar, and there she found him, counting septims for to pay for a drink. She made her way over to the bar and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked. "Running off like that, without so much as a word."

"I wanted a drink," he replied. "I've never been this far east, and I wanted to sample the local mead."

Sigrun sighed. "Well, you should have told us first. We can't be looking out for you at every minute."

"Alright, alright," Erik sighed. "You got me. So, what did I miss? You lot were at the smithy, and you went to find your f..." Sigrun gave him a stern look: he wasn't supposed to say that out-loud. "Uh, I mean...the Dragonborn. Why did you go after him? Did something happen?"

"He was accosted by the local scumbag," Sigrun replied. "After walking out of Jorrvaskr."

"Jorrvaskr? The Hall of Ysgramor's Companions?" Erik's face lit up. "Ah, if ever there were an opportunity for adventure, that would be it."

"Well, we can't," Sigrun replied. "We have a job to do."

"Oh, come on!" Erik complained.

"You signed up for this when you saved my life in Rorikstead," Sigrun told him. "Now we're in this together."

"If I had known..." Erik began, but Sigrun shoved his shoulder. "Ah, I'm only joking, of course." She rolled her eyes.

"We're going to be very busy soon," she said. "The Dragonborn needs some Morrowind ebony, and there's the matter of Whiterun and the war to consider."

"What's he need ebony for?"

"For his armor."

"Well, you know the best place to find Morrowind ebony is Morrowind."

Sigrun paused. In her time, Redoran and Sadras had put aside their differences and forced the Argonians out of Mournhold, with Telvanni moving onto the far eastern half of the mainland. Blacklight was still the capital, but Mournhold was now a Dunmer city again. Unfortunately, Sadras turned its attention back to the west, to the occupied Eastmarch, which caused problems for Sigrun and the other Nords. There were even rumors of settlements popping up in the barren ash-plains of Vvardenfell, over two hundred and twenty years after the Red Year. But here, she had no idea what they could be getting into.

"What do you know about Morrowind?" she asked.

"Not much," Erik began. "They say the Red Mountain erupted almost two hundred years ago, flattened their sacred island of Vvardenfell. Dark elves came to live in the eastern holds: Eastmarch and the Rift. I hear tell the High King back then gave Solstheim to them; though I shouldn't know too much about that, anyway. I only hear what the travelers say at the Frostfruit Inn, and we're so far out west that Morrowind isn't really our concern."

Sigrun muttered the word "Solstheim" over and over, the incident a few moments ago coming back to her mind. A new thought came into her mind: what if she went east and brought back the ebony for her father, and he remained in Skyrim? Of course it would mean that their plans would be put on indefinite hold until she returned: and of course, the war would not wait for them. It seemed a fool's errand, especially when the real danger lay here, in the west, and not on Solstheim.

"Hurry up and finish your drink," she said. "We're got work to do."

"What work is that?"

"Find out what needs doing after he gets done with his business in Dragonsreach."

Eirik strode determinedly up the stone steps of the Cloud District, and entered the dark, gloomy hall of Dragonsreach. It was relatively empty, save for Olfrid Battle-Born and the Redguard Nazeem sitting at the table, discussing various issues with the East Empire Company. Eirik walked past the two double tables that flanked the sides of the central hearth, and made his way up to the first step before the throne. Upon the throne sat Balgruuf the Greater, Jarl of Whiterun. To his right was his steward, Proventus Avenicci, and to his left were his personal huscarl, the Dunmer Irileth, and his brother Hrongar.

"Jarl Balgruuf!" he greeted.

"Well met, Dragonborn," Balgruuf replied. "May the gods watch over your battles, friend."

"I have business to discuss with you, my jarl."

"If you have business, speak with Proventus."

"This is about you, my jarl...and the people of Whiterun."

Balgruuf shifted on his throne. "What could be the problem that the Dragonborn enters uninvited into my hall?"

"You're lucky you're a friend of the Jarl," the Dunmer huscarl Irileth snapped.

"My lord," Eirik continued. "You were present at the peace summit at High Hrothgar, were you not?"

"Aye, that I was," Balgruuf nodded. "And I remember that you sided with the rebels."

"Yes, I did," Eirik replied. "But you were there, as a witness. And you know that I ordered the Empire to give Riften back to the Stormcloaks. They never kept their part of the bargain."

"I doubt General Tullius was to blame for that," Balgruuf said. "He's a busy man, taking the fight to the Stormcloaks: I can respect that."

"He dishonored the treaty by not adhering to it!"

"There was no honor to be gained from that peace summit," Balgruuf replied. "Your Ulfric only wanted to push his goals."

"A free Skyrim?" Eirik asked. "One where we honor Talos, rather than forsake him?"

Balgruuf laughed. "You're wasting your time. I'm not so naive as you are to think that Ulfric cares about anything - or anyone - else than Ulfric. Now, enough of this rebel's talk! Talos worship is forbidden. It's the Empire's law, and we're still part of the Empire."

"So you've taken a side?" Eirik asked. "Your talk of neutrality was all a lie? Do you even know what the White-Gold Concordant was? It was the death-blow of the Empire; a pact that crippled us and stole our heart and soul at the tip of a sword bloodied with the blood of our sons and daughters!"

"Don't talk down to me, boy!" Balgruuf retorted, his blue eyes glaring fiercely at Eirik. "I was there, I was forced to accept the treaty whether I liked it or not!"

"Your pardon, my lord," the Jarl's steward Proventus Avenicci, father of Adrianne, spoke up. "But we both know that's not entirely true."

"Silence, Proventus! Don't you have something useful to be doing right now?"

"No, I want to hear this!" Eirik interjected. "Speak, Proventus. Tell me what the Jarl doesn't wish for me to hear."

Proventus crossed his arms, looking very self-important. "We were well-compensated for our compliance with the White-Gold Concordant, and that is all I shall say."

"Is this true?" Eirik asked, turning to Balgruuf. "Do our traditions mean so little to you that you'd sell them out for Imperial gold?"

"Careful, boy!" Balgruuf growled menacingly. "You're treading on very dangerous ground, Dragonborn or no!"

"I thought you were a man of honor," Eirik returned. "And yet you were bought off by the Empire to forsake the heart and founder of the Empire, the god of man!"

"Do you want to see the Thalmor rounding up people in the streets and throwing them in prison?!" Balgruuf rose from his seat, roaring so loudly that his voice filled the hall. The guards drew their weapons, Irileth and Proventus cowered, and the children in the other rooms wept. Balgruuf lowered his voice, but did not release his piercing gaze from Eirik. "I've done more than enough by letting that statue remain in the Wind District and letting that madman Heimskr bellow about Talos day in and day out."

"You have me at your side," Eirik returned. "You've heard how I stormed Northwatch Keep, stopped the vampire menace, and defeated Alduin himself. What do you have to fear from the Thalmor with me at your side?"

"And when the Empire comes for you?" Balgruuf asked. "Or the armies of the Dominion? What then? Will you expect me to give you protection then?"

"I expect you, my Jarl, to stand with the people of Skyrim!" Eirik replied. "With only twenty men and without bloodshed, I took back the Rift for the Stormcloaks. I don't want bloodshed or domination, I only want to live in Skyrim the way it should be: brave and free, unhindered by any elvish laws or White-Gold shackles of a dying Empire!"

"Lies!" Olfrid shouted from his seat. "It's all lies! This man is a bloodthirsty rogue, just like Ulfric! He constantly assaults my honorable son Idolaf and uses his position as Thane to get away with his crimes!"

"My lord, you know that isn't true."

"Silence!" Balgruuf shouted. He kept his gaze fixed on Eirik. "Whiterun is a loyal hold: there's no room for traitors in my court." He sighed heavily. "While we are forever in your debt for what you've done to us, what you've said here and now cannot go unpunished. I hereby revoke your title of Thane and all privileges attached to it." He then reached down to the side of his throne and pulled forth an axe.

"Here," he said. "Since you're so keen on keeping with tradition, you'll know what this means." He threw the axe down at Eirik's feet. "There's only two things more that I want from you: the key to Breezehome and Lydia returned to me. Now go!"

"Balgruuf!"

"You heard my brother, Stormcloak dog!" Hrongar said, stepping out from behind Irileth with his greatsword in hand. "Take the axe and get out or I'll throw you out!"

Eirik reached down and picked up the axe. He turned to leave, just as two spoonfuls of steaming hot horker stew came flying at him from the Jarl's children. One missed, but the other struck him in the face, which sent peels of laughter from the children and Olfrid Battle-Born. As Eirik turned to see who had thrown the burning missile, he happened to see Olfrid speaking with someone in the shadowed edges of the hall. He hadn't noticed him on the first go, but said nothing as he went his way with the axe in hand. His mission had failed.

(AN: I told you it was going to get real!)

(I didn't hit 10k words with this chapter, but I'm close enough. Plenty of stuff happening here, stuff being set up for the inevitable siege of Whiterun [though it might just be different than you'd think]. The side quest of fixing Eirik's armor comes to us from the Immersive Armor mod, particularly the Dragonbone Ebonsteel armor. I thought it looked cool [and it covers more than the standard armor], so I went with that. Now I just have to work in Orsinmer somehow in order for Mjoll to get her Warchief armor.)

(As you can see from that second side quest, my gameplay has been somewhat focused on Solstheim lately. Dragonborn was too short a DLC: it was basically a nostalgia trip for Morrowind fans with a short quest-line added in for good measure. Exploring Solstheim was really the only good part about it. However, since our attention has turned back there, we might just get to see another part of Solstheim that wasn't explored in The Dragonborn and the Lioness or The Dragon and the Bear [anyone interested in guessing?])