(AN: And with that, two of our side quests are now taking some focus in the main plot. This chapter started getting REALLY big, and I was running out of patience with it. So in the end, I decided to call it quits where I had it and carry on in the next chapter. That means I get less of a load on my shoulders and you all get more to read: everyone wins!)

(Out of morbid curiosity, I started playing Morrowind with my Nerevarine Llevas Dorvayn. And wow! I know everyone complained about me "over-exaggerating" the racism of the Dunmer in my previous stories, but I don't think I went far enough, especially after reading how the Dunmer thought of the Nords. Not to mention how the game viewed them: one of their generic male Nord NPC quotes is "Some people are born stupid: like me!")

(Okay, rant over. Here's a nice big chapter for you to enjoy!)

A Journey to the East

In a rush, the group prepared for departure. Mjoll was focused on Eirik's right forearm: it had been cut on Idolaf's knife as he reached up to defend himself. Though he assured her over and over that it was nothing but a scratch, she intent on making sure it didn't turn into another problem like his right hand. Meanwhile, Erik and the young women were busy gathering their belongings together as Hulda was now up and aware of what had happened. She was none too pleased.

"I have to report this," she told him. "But, because of what you've done for us, for all of us, I'll hold off calling the guards until dawn. If you're not out of here by then, let it be on your head."

Eirik and Mjoll got dressed, and took up their things as quickly as possible. No one said a word to Lydia through this whole adventure: Eirik at least was upset that she hadn't caught Idolaf before he tried anything. Once they were ready, they came downstairs and quickly as possible and headed out the door.

The sky was turning from jet black to a soft, deep blue even as they exited the doors of the Bannered Mare: Hulda didn't leave them too much of a head's start. They had to work fast. Down the path of the Plains District they went, passing through the gates just as they were opened by the morning relieving the night's watch. At last they came to the stables and found their horses; as before, they doubled up on them with Eirik and Mjoll on one, Sigrun and Erik on another, and Lydia and Jonna on the last one. Even as they were helping each other climb aboard, a figure stepped out from the shadows on the side of the stables and spoke up to them:

"Just where do you think you're off to, now?"

Twelve eyes turned in shocked surprise at the red-haired woman standing before them, bow, shield and quiver upon her back.

"Aela!" Eirik returned. "Where have you been?"

"Trying my damnedest to convince the other Companions to join us," she replied. "They wouldn't listen. Vilkas is determined to stay out of the war at all costs, and Farkas lets his brother do all the thinking for them. Njada is making a big fuss about how Kodlak and Skjor were mistaken to make you Harbinger, and is pressing to lead the Companions now that you're gone."

"And the others?" Eirik asked.

But just as she began to speak, the sound of a bell was heard ringing in Whiterun. The jig was up.

"She gave us away!" Erik exclaimed.

"Never!" Aela retorted. "Rather die than betray a shield-brother."

"Aela, listen," Eirik said hurriedly. "There's no time. We ride east as swift as the wind."

"I'll catch up with you," she replied, even as they dug in their heels and took off into the tundra at a breakneck pace.

They rode on as fast as they could, caring not for anything save for how many miles they could put between them and pursuit. Eirik was at the lead, with Lydia following after him, and Sigrun near the rear of the group. Once they passed down the main road, they turned left and began to ride east, towards the rising sun. As they were turning, Erik shifted uncomfortably in his seat behind her and cried out.

"What is it?" Sigrun asked.

"There's something coming after us!" he called out. "I can't make it out in this darkness! Speed up, speed up! I don't want whatever it is to catch us!"

Sigrun urged the horse on faster. The panting of the horse and the beating of its hooves echoed in her ears, like drum-beats upon the skin of the world. Just then there came another sound, similar but different: the sound of a large creature running on all fours. Just then a massive shadow passed by them on the left and continued ahead of them. Sigrun urged the horse faster, hoping to catch up to Eirik and the others before the beast did. Just then she heard a loud and joyous laugh and saw, dimly, the silhouette of a horseman stopping. She pulled her horse to a stop alongside.

"What was that?" she asked.

"It's Aela," Eirik replied. "She might just outrun us! Hurry, we don't stop until Valtheim!"

The sun rose in a golden blaze before them when they at last reached Valtheim: the twenty-third day of Morning Star. Here the company brought their horses to a halt; the large red wolf was waiting for them before the towers. Eirik alone seemed unperturbed by the sight of the massive beast, as he dismounted from his horse and spoke to it. He told it that they were going east to Windhelm, and that it should follow them as swiftly as it could. The wolf took off eastward, then he mounted up again and took off after it. Sigrun was surprised to see this, for she had no idea that her father had spent time with beasts such as this. And had he said it was Aela? Just what else did he not tell her?

Past the Valtheim Towers they continued, down the familiar path into the woods on the western side of Eastmarch. They rode on for many more miles, the sun passing overhead their only companion. Perhaps because their coming was being "heralded" by a werewolf, they encountered no wild beasts on the road. About midday, the clouds began to gather in the skies overhead: a storm would soon be coming. The three horses came to a halt.

"We need to get under cover," Eirik said. "That storm's not looking very friendly."

"Couldn't you just Shout it away?" Sigrun asked.

"Really?" Erik asked. "He just killed a man, and you want him to give us away that easily?" Sigrun shoved her shoulder back into his chest.

"We're outside of Whiterun," Sigrun argued. "No one in Eastmarch will care about what happened."

"He's right," Eirik stated. "Olfrid Battle-Born will hire thugs to come after us, and they won't be deterred by hold laws. No, it's best that we don't give ourselves away: not yet, at least."

"Isn't there somewhere we can settle down for the night?" Mjoll asked.

"Doesn't look like it," Eirik said. "Of course we didn't come prepared because somebody didn't warn me of Idolaf's attempted murder."

"You know I'm not your huscarl anymore?" Lydia asked. "I don't have to take your bullshit."

"You agreed to come along with me and guard me and all that's mine," Eirik returned. "Isn't that right?"

"Shor's balls, it was one mistake," Lydia groaned.

"One mistake that would have costed him his life!" Sigrun retorted.

"I'll be more careful next time," Lydia replied.

"If there is a next time!"

"Sigrun, please!" Eirik admonished her. "Now is not the time for arguing. We need to find somewhere to hunker down for the storm."

"Mara's Eye!" Jonna spoke up, suddenly remembering something. "There's a cave in an island in the center of Mara's Eye Pond. It's just northwest of here." All eyes turned to Eirik.

"Never been there myself," he said. "Lead the way."

Jonna leaped off the back of Lydia's horse and told them to do the same. Then, following her lead, they began to climb the steep hills to their left. Little by little they made their way, going higher and higher until the air was growing cooler. They were nearing the regions of snow. Just then they heard a wolf's howl somewhere nearby: but it sounded shriller and more unnerving than the usual howl of a wolf. One by one they drew their weapons and prepared to face whatever waited them at the top of the hill.

Once they reached the top, they found a lake seated among the tall pine and ironwood trees. A small boat was sitting on the shore, and a little ways in the midst of said lake was an island. To the surprise of all of them save Eirik, a pale naked figure was walking out from the two trees in the center of the island, towards the edge of the lake. Warily, they tied their horses to the trees, then climbed into the boat and rowed over to the island. They recognized the figure as soon as they arrived on the small island.

"Huntress?" Jonna asked. "Where are your clothes?"

"In the cave," Aela replied. "Had to take my gear off and stow it before transforming, that's why I was behind you a bit."

"Why aren't you wearing them?" Jonna asked.

"It's...complicated," she replied. Aela then set her eyes to Mjoll. "What do you think, Lioness? Enough scars to match yours?"

"Perhaps," Mjoll said, stepping off the boat and onto the muddy shore. She slowly made her way over to Aela, examining her body. "Your choice of armor doesn't leave you very protected, I see."

"I prefer light on my feet anyway," Aela replied.

"That one there, near your heart," Mjoll said, pointing to the space between Aela's breasts. "Where did you get that?"

"Arrows from the Silver Hand," was the answer. "Nearly did me in." She then pointed to some old lines on her sides near her hips. "These I got from the first kill I made, when I wasn't but a few years younger than those girls." She gestured to Sigrun and Jonna, who were now disembarking from the boat: Sigrun was holding her hand over her eyes as Jonna led her to the center of the island. Erik was grinning as he chanced to catch a glimpse or two of her form, when Eirik shoved him with his hand.

"Not polite," he said.

"What?" Erik returned. "If she's showing it, why can't I enjoy it?"

"This is a private matter between them," Eirik said.

"She's not making it private!" Erik returned.

"Just follow the girls into the cave," he said. "And don't you be letting what you're seeing here give you any ideas."

"What?"

"You know what I mean," he replied, then let him go on his way. Meanwhile, Lydia followed up behind and took a look at what was happening.

"What about those claw-marks on your shoulders?" Mjoll asked.

Aela chuckled. "Oh, I think you can guess."

"Gods, what?" Mjoll retorted. "Are you saying that you...?"

"Skjor and I were on a rather long hunt, years ago," she replied. "And we were in our aspect and things got wild."

Lydia turned to Eirik. "You like what you see?"

"What?" he returned.

"How does she compare?"

"That's none of your business."

"I think I should at least know," Lydia replied.

Eirik rolled his eyes and sighed. "There's no comparing her to Mjoll."

"I was talking about me."

"I'm married, and I don't want to talk about that in earshot of my wife." Eirik then cleared his throat. "Can we go in before the storm hits us?"

"Sure, love," Mjoll replied. Aela frowned, then led the way into the cave. Meanwhile, Eirik had not gone beyond earshot when Lydia uttered: "She has a nice ass, though." He sighed and went on into the cave.

Inside, they found that it was dry and had a few things here and there that indicated it was once inhabited. Aela went over to her bag of supplies and began dressing herself, much to Sigrun's relief. Meanwhile, Lydia and Eirik began working on building a fire near the trap-door entrance to the cave. Once it was built, they all huddled around it for warmth as the air above started to grow cold and damp with the onset of the storm. Around the fire they sat, Sigrun refusing to look at either Aela or her mother.

"What's wrong, Sigrun?" Mjoll asked.

"Did you really have to lead her on like that?" Sigrun asked. "Letting it all hang out, and you just standing there, looking at her like..." She made a disgusted noise and shook her head.

"What's wrong, lass?" Aela asked. "Were you uncomfortable?"

"Yes, I was, okay?"

"Fine, fine," Aela replied. "Most folk are. But you do know, traditionally, our people weren't as modest as they are now. Plus, you've only got the one body for a short number of years: might as well enjoy it while you have it."

"Just don't do it again, please?" Sigrun asked. Aela shook her head, then turned to Eirik.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I have business with Balgruuf before the first of First Seed," Eirik said. "He gave me an axe."

"Shor's balls!" Aela exclaimed. "Why did he do that?"

"Because I questioned his honor concerning selling out Talos," Eirik began. "He stripped me of my title, land, and huscarl, and challenged me."

"But she's still here," Aela said, gesturing to Lydia.

"I chose to come here."

"Hah! I like you, huscarl," Aela grinned. "So, are you planning on giving it back?"

"I just might," Eirik replied. "But, there's more trouble on our hands. There's Thalmor to hunt on Solstheim."

"We're not going to Solstheim," Sigrun said. "We're staying here in Skyrim and winning the war."

"I've never been to Solstheim before," Aela replied. "I heard there's werebears there. Would be fun."

"We're not here for fun," Sigrun returned. "We're here to drive out the Empire and put Ulfric on the throne."

"Sig, what's wrong?" Jonna asked.

"People aren't focusing!" Sigrun exclaimed in frustration. "We have a clear goal ahead of us and they want to indulge in everything but what we have to do!" She turned to Eirik. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if you really want the Empire to be driven out after all, the way you've been acting."

Eirik gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, restraining himself from bursting out in anger. Jonna meanwhile put her hand on Sigrun's shoulder and turned her around.

"Sig, calm down," she said. "It'll be okay. We can do both things at once."

"How?"

"There's seven of us," she said. "We can just have two or three go to Solstheim and the rest can stay here."

"Four or five people aren't going to save Skyrim all by themselves!" Sigrun exclaimed.

"We did it with five in Sovngarde," Lydia added with a smirk.

Sigrun groaned in frustration and slammed her fists onto the bare earth. Then she rose up and stormed off to a corner of the cave. Mjoll got to her feet and went to talk to her, while the others seemed surprised with what had just happened.

"You want my opinion, Eirik?" Lydia asked. "I think she should go to Solstheim."

"She's right," Aela replied. "The girl lacks discipline. If Solstheim is as bad as the stories say, it'll change her for the better."

"Isn't she our leader?" Erik asked. "What are we going to do without her?"

"I'll do it," Jonna heard herself state. All eyes turned to the diminutive Nord girl, who swallowed hard under their gaze. So often she had hid beneath Sigrun's shadow, tying up so much of herself into her best-friend that without her, she was indecisive and lethargic. But now she was throwing down the gauntlet: now she was taking up Sigrun's mantle of leading the mission while she was away.

"I mean, I'm nobody, I know," she replied. "But Sigrun and I grew up together: we're practically sisters. If anyone knows her and can plan and think like her, it'd be me. I'll lead."

"Isn't Eirik the Dragonborn?" Lydia asked. "Shouldn't he lead?" Eirik leaned over and whispered into her ear. She nodded, and said no more.

"Very well," Eirik said. "Once we reach Windhelm, we'll book Sigrun passage on a ship heading for Solstheim while the rest of us stay here and fight."

"Windhelm," Aela remarked. "Ysgramor's city. Been near there before, wouldn't mind spending some time there again. But not too much: I don't want to trade sitting on my ass in Jorrvaskr for sitting on my ass in Windhelm."

"What would we do in Windhelm," Erik asked. "While Sigrun is on Solstheim?"

"Prepare for war," Jonna said. "Train, recruit new Stormcloaks, maybe hoard some better weapons and armor."

"Better?" Eirik asked.

"The leather and rags the hold guards wear won't do much against an arrow from an Imperial Legion archer," Jonna said. "We need proper weapons and armor, all of us, for this war."

"That doesn't sound very fun," Erik muttered.

"Well, war isn't all killing and bloodshed," Jonna replied. "Sometimes you have to prepare for the next blood-letting." She turned to Eirik. "Do you think you could repeat those words you said in Whiterun in Windhelm?"

"Maybe."

"Good," Jonna smiled. "Perhaps we'll have better success here than in Whiteru..." Just then, Jonna doubled over, clutching her stomach.

"What's wrong?" Eirik asked. "Don't tell me you're having pain as well?"

"Yeah, I kind of am," Jonna said, through clenched teeth. "I just...I just need a moment."

"What's wrong?" Eirik asked.

"Ask your huscarl, she'll tell you!" Jonna groaned as she went off into a corner of her own. Eirik turned to Lydia, who rolled her eyes.

"What?"

"Really?" Lydia asked. "You spend all this time around women and you haven't noticed yet?"

"Notice what?"

Lydia groaned, then turned to Erik. "You might not want to hear this." He covered his ears, then she turned back to Eirik. "It's her issue. You know, when a fertile woman bleeds once every month? Gods, you're such a man."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Eirik replied.

"It's not, but sometimes you can be oblivious to our natural functions."

Eirik then turned his attention to the fire, trying not to think about what he had just heard: part of him wished that he could go back to the time when Mjoll turning into a mare during love-making was the only thing that troubled his mind.

"Now, then," Aela said. "If it's all the same with you, I'm still feeling the need to hunt. So I'll just slip outside."

"Don't wander too far," Eirik returned.

"I can smell my way back to you, don't worry," Aela assured him. "Besides, you'll need someone to watch over you tonight."

The storm raged on outside the cave in Mara's Eye. The fire went out and eventually they decided to huddle together for warmth. Eirik and Mjoll were together in one place, with Erik and Lydia watching the entrance and Sigrun and Jonna huddled off together by themselves. The endless sound of rain slowly lulled them into a soft and deep sleep, where they forgot all about the frustrations and altercations of the day.

In a cave somewhere in Falkreath, that had once belonged to a coven of witches that had cursed the Companions to lycanthropy, the three Dunmer women were overwhelmed with boredom. Sedris was lazily mixing human flesh for a potion she was making, Arvela was absent-mindedly levitating the body of the child they had abducted and from which the flesh had come - periodically ripping its limbs apart and rearranging them improperly; meanwhile, Tiraa was reading the big red book that Arvela had found. After a minute or two more, Arvela waved her hand and sent the body flying against the cave wall.

"This is getting us nowhere," she demanded. "Our enemies gather while we wait and dawdle."

"Well, excuse me," Tiraa replied. "If I'm the only one with a nose for books and the patience to sit through this drivel." She shook her head and turned to Sedris. "No wonder you hate this Crixus. He is so whiny. Every three pages, he talks about how much he hates the Nords."

"At least I agree with him on that," Sedris uttered. "A few of my former lovers in Windhelm always spoke of how awful they're treated by the Nords."

"But why does he hate Nords?" Tiraa asked. "I mean, this borders on paranoid obsession."

"He knew a camp-follower in the Great War," Sedris explained. "And, like a foolish little boy, he gave his heart to her. The next time he saw her, she was doing her office with a Nord. It scarred him for life." She snarled and spat into her mixture before continuing.

"I feel sorry for him," Tiraa replied. "Young love is always the hardest."

"It wasn't love," Sedris retorted. "It was the adolescent attachment to the first thing he gave himself to. Only a fool believes the ones who share your bed have anything beyond mere lust."

"No wonder you're so bitter," Tiraa commented.

Sedris growled, then walked over to Arvela, came close to her, and whispered:

"Do we really need her?" she asked. "She's starting to piss me off."

"You know we need a third member," Arvela said. "That is the way of our lords, the Three-in-One. Unless all three of us mantle all three of them, they will not return."

"But couldn't we have chosen anyone else other than her?"

"Think of it this way, Sedris," Arvela said with a mischievous grin. "Her insufferable nature will make your deed all the sweeter."

Sedris grumbled. "There is no sweetness left for me in this life."

"Ah, and that is why we must ascend," Arvela replied. "For only then will we have realized our true selves." She turned to Tiraa. "Vilenis, how goes the reading? Have you unlocked its secrets yet?"

"Not yet," Tiraa explained. "So far it's just, well, an account of a journey."

"What is the Red Dog?"

"The ship that they're on."

"And what is the destination of that journey?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe to stop by every port from the Imperial City to Tear and bed every fair maiden in between? Certainly fits with the hedonistic tone of this book."

Arvela snarled. "We must take one of our enemy's pawns out of the game now, before time is lost to us."

"But how?" Sedris asked. "Our powers are growing, yes, but we're not yet ready to reveal ourselves."

"Perhaps," Arvela mused, then turned to Sedris. "Perhaps only one of us need appear."

"Me?" Sedris asked. "But what should I do?"

"Use your magic, of course," Arvela asked. "Cast your Illusion spells and spread your legs. Do what you do best."

Sedris snarled. "If our goals weren't the same, I'd b*tch-slap you into the next era!"

"Such violence! Perhaps Crixus has had more of an influence on you than you have had on him. Curious."

"What about me?" Tiraa asked, poking her head up from the book.

"You will stay here and continue reading," Arvela said. "We need to find out what that book holds and why it was sent to us from the future." She turned to Sedris. "Now, then, what do you say? Are you willing to do your part, Sedris?"

The old Dunmer woman scowled. "And who will I be seducing?"

"Why, the Dragonborn...for a start."

The morning of the twenty-fourth day of Morning Star dawned over Skyrim. A chill wind blew down from the entrance of the cave. One by one they began to ready themselves for their journey. Mjoll was still feeling nauseous, and while Jonna was well enough to travel, Sigrun was still complaining about pain. Yet these came from her head rather than her bowels; she had had another dream.

"So much fighting," she muttered. "So much bickering."

"Now you know how we felt yesterday," Lydia commented.

"Uh," Sigrun returned, rubbing the temples of her throbbing head.

Up above, the storm had passed and they had a clear, cool day of journeying ahead of them. Aela told them that she would go on ahead of them and meet them at Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm that evening, and said that she'd leave her clothes, sword, shield, bow, and arrow here on the island before departing. As they were getting ready, Sigrun found a moment to approach her father; there was a stern look upon her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you still in pain?"

"I'll be fine once you answer my questions."

"What is it?"

"Ma said that you've been less than faithful to her," she said. "And now you're friends with her?" She gestured towards Aela. "Just how many naked women travel with you, I wonder."

Eirik sighed. "It was a mistake. There was wine involved, but I think someone else had a hand in that particular incident: the daedric prince of debauchery Sanguine."

"Huh, a clever story," she returned.

"I've paid for that mistake a hundredfold," Eirik replied. "And I've never done its like again: I promise you that."

"And what about her?" Sigrun asked. "She just shows up naked half the time? What's her problem?"

Eirik turned to her and took a step closer. "Promise me you'll keep this secret?"

"I've been living a secret life ever since arriving here," she replied.

Eirik leaned in and whispered it in her ear. Sigrun's eyes widened with surprise.

"So...that thing was...?"

"Yes," he nodded. "She changes out of her gear so that it doesn't break when she transforms."

"Oh, wow," Sigrun muttered. "Well, that explains that. Still, I didn't think you the type for dealing with w..." He shushed her. "...with that."

"It's a long story."

"Tell it to me on the way to Windhelm?"

He chuckled. "Maybe."

Once they had eaten breakfast and hid any trace that they had stayed there this night, the six of them left the cave in Mara's Eye Pond and, taking the boat, rowed back over to their horses: Aela was nowhere to be seen. Rather than mount up immediately, they led their horses down on foot back onto the main road. Once they had gotten the road again, they mounted up and took off north and east on the final leg of their journey. The fast traveling was not at all to the liking of Sigrun and Jonna; though they had ridden many times, it was greatly agonizing while in their blood. But for Sigrun, this land held dark and frightful memories.

She would be glad to see Windhelm as it was: a Nord city. At least then she'd be behind walls and away from the memories.

About midday, the marshy fens gave way to deep snow-drifts and the air became cool and crisp. Before them rose the heights of Mount Anthor, one of the largest mountains next to the Throat of the World. In the distance, nestled just behind its lofty peaks, could be seen carved in stone hands holding up a moon and star: a strange sight indeed. From there, their eyes went directly to the mountain, and then followed it down past the road that snaked along its sides till it was lost in its cloudy head and came at last to the bay. There, upon an arm of the mountain thrust out into the mouth of the bay, sat the city of Ysgramor.

It was the first time Sigrun and Jonna had seen that city when it was called Windhelm. In those days it was called New Gnisis, Merhyllm, and Ad-el-Bahn: the center of Dunmer operations in Skyrim. From what Sigrun had heard, the Sons of Skyrim in her time were so tied up with protecting Skyrim that they could not gather a force strong enough to assault the city, especially since House Sadras had made a truce with House Redoran and trade had opened up with Blacklight, the capital of Morrowind. The Nords had been broken, and could not take back what had been stolen from them: especially being dependent upon the Empire as they were.

Up to the gate they rode, and deposited their horses into the keeping of the stables. Before them and the gates of Windhelm, which were open but guarded by Stormcloak soldiers, each of them wrapped in a thick fur cloak, was a great bridge of stone. Over this bridge the six of them crossed, gazing up in wonder at the tall, gray, and austere stone city. A bitter cold wind blew upon them from the east; the Sea of Ghosts was close enough to be breathing down their necks. Hurriedly they made their way to the gates, and to the protection of the city walls.

Before them rose Candlehearth Hall, the first thing travelers saw as they entered Windhelm. As they were approaching, Sigrun cast her eyes to her right and saw a few red-eyed Dunmer hissing at them as they passed. Others would spit at them, and call them 'fetcher', 's'wit' or 'n'wah'. Into Sigrun's mind came afresh the memories of her captivity among the Dunmer slavers. She averted her eyes, fearful of the leering red eyes of those who were walking about. It wasn't soon enough that they entered the Candlehearth Hall, and Sigrun didn't have to look them in the eyes.

Once they found tables for themselves around the warm hearth in the common room, they began to relax from their journey. Eirik went to the bar to ask about anything that needed doing, as well as any information on ships headed for Solstheim. Erik went to look for a blacksmith; he hadn't been able to purchase a weapon in Whiterun. Sigrun alone seemed high-strung and restless, always eying the windows and doorways as if red-eyed creatures would come into the tavern and abduct her. Lydia and Jonna were purchasing food for them: warm stews full of rabbit and vegetables. Lydia and Jonna returned with the food, with Lydia going back for the last bowl while Jonna sat down next to Sigrun. Just then, Eirik arrived and sat down across from them, next to Mjoll.

"Looks like the Northern Maiden is heading to Solstheim tomorrow at dawn," Eirik said. "You'll be heading east first thing in the morning." Sigrun was not paying attention. Jonna shoved her shoulder.

"Sig, what's with you?"

"We have another problem," Sigrun said, turning back to those at the table. "The Dunmer here in Windhelm."

"So?" Eirik and Mjoll asked.

"So?!" Sigrun retorted incredulously. "The Dunmer are as bad as any enemy. In my time, they had taken over all of Eastmarch, put the Nords to the sword, enslaved those they hadn't killed, and were actively burning and dredging to make the land more like Morrowind."

"I can't believe they'd do that," Mjoll returned. "I've known Dunmer in Riften. Brand-Shei and Priestess Balu would never do anything as bad as all that."

"Trust me, it happens!" Sigrun asserted. "They kill Ulfric and take over Windhelm, ending the war." She turned to Eirik. "Da, they're an obstacle to winning the war: you have to get rid of them."

"What?" Eirik asked. "Kill the Dunmer of Windhelm? Are you joking?"

"I'm dead serious!"

"I mean, sure, they're not very polite," Eirik commented. "And they turn their noses up at everyone who isn't a dark elf like they are. But I hear that's just how they are."

"It's true," Mjoll nodded. "I've met quite a few Dunmer in my travels in Morrowind. They can be friendly, if you can earn their trust."

"I don't want to earn their trust," Sigrun retorted. "I want to get them out of Windhelm before they try to kill Ulfric. They're a problem we have to address."

"Why do you hate the Dunmer?" Eirik asked.

"Aside from the reasons I just mentioned?"

"She was held captive by them," Jonna said. "They tried to sell her into slavery."

"Gods, no!" Mjoll exclaimed.

"Wait a minute," Lydia interjected. "Aren't the Dunmer our ancient enemy? Going back before even Tiber Septim?"

"Yes, that's true!" Sigrun commented, turning first to the huscarl and then back to Eirik. "You see? It's not a problem."

"It is, though," Eirik said. "The Decree of Monument was passed. It gave the Dunmer people permission to live in Skyrim."

"I've walked the road past Refugee's Point many times," Mjoll added. "'Let this tower stand in honor of those who had the strength and spirit to accept Skyrim's Offer "untithed to any thane or hold, and self-governed, with free worship, with no compensation to Skyrim or the Empire except as writ in the Armistice of old wheresoever those might still apply, and henceforth let no Man or Mer say that the Sons and Daughters of Kyne are without mercy or honor." We, the Jarls of Skyrim, hereby decree this site as monument to the struggle of those who fled their native home of Morrowind in the time following the Red Year.'"

"See?" Sigrun exclaimed. "That's it! They have no allegiances, they're free to act however they wish: like kill Ulfric! They govern themselves: which means our rules don't apply to them. And what's to stop them then from killing Ulfric, or any of us, if they want to? Or making us their slaves?"

"What would be their motivation?" Eirik asked.

"I've heard that the Dunmer aren't treated well in Windhelm," Lydia added. "That could be provocation."

"Or maybe it's because they're our enemies?" Sigrun asked. "Hasn't that occurred to anyone yet? Am I speaking to the walls here?"

"Sigrun," Eirik said, trying to assert himself. "Our first mission is the war: your mission is the Thalmor on Solstheim. If the Dunmer become a problem, we'll deal with them in time. But not beforehand; is that clear?"

Sigrun sighed, and began playing with her food while the rest of them began eating their stews. The warm, savory broth and the soft, hearty meats warmed their hearts and bodies. Once they were done, they were shown to their rooms: Erik came back in time with an axe. Eirik and Mjoll slept in one room, with Sigrun and Jonna in another, and Lydia and Erik in the third. They were getting ready for bed, while Sigrun was examining everything she would be taking with her for her journey tomorrow: her clothes, her sword, the letter. She didn't have much in the way of possessions, nor had she much idea what Solstheim would be like in order to prepare for it.

"Sig," Jonna said. "I'm starting to worry about you. You're getting far too stressed out and short with your Father. It's not good for you."

"He's not doing what he needs to be doing," Sigrun replied, groaning as she felt another twinge of pain in her stomach. "That's what bothers me. He doesn't need us to be holding his hand: he shouldn't be."

"Well, he's not the same man you knew back then," Jonna said. "You know that: he hadn't seen all that we've seen and more to become how you remember him. You'll need to be more patient with him in the days to come."

Sigrun turned to Jonna, who had doffed her gear and was snuggling under the blanket for bed. "I need you to promise me something, Jons."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Make sure he gets rid of the Dunmer while I'm away."

"What?"

"You heard me!" Sigrun flopped onto the bed. "The Dunmer are trouble, and they need to go. I don't care if he has to kill them all or just Shout some sense into them, or force them to leave: they need to go before they destroy the east." She reached out and took Jonna's hand in hers. "Swear to me that, no matter what happens, you'll make Da remove the dark elves."

"I..."

"Swear it!"

"Alright," Jonna returned. "I swear. Now can I get under these blankets now? It's so cold way up north. And I thought winters in Falkreath were bad!"

"Didn't hear you complain about the Pale," Sigrun said.

"The sea winds make it worse," was Jonna's reply.

Sigrun carried on with her preparations while Jonna stuffed herself into the covers and tried to fall asleep amid the sound of patrons walking on the roof of their room - some of them pounding their feet to the "Age of Oppression" that was playing in the common room above - and the endless clanking of tankards and the hum of the bar-talk. Once Sigrun had checked and double-checked that she had all that she needed, she walked over to her side of the bed and crawled under the covers. The soft, mournful melody of a flute filled her ears from above as the last sounds she heard before sleep claimed her at last.

Morning came far too soon for Sigrun's liking. She didn't even have a chance to explain her dream of the previous night: she was already up and getting her things ready for departure. After a quick breakfast, she and Jonna went down to the docks for their departure: Eirik and Mjoll had business at the Palace of the Kings and could not be there for them. As they were going thither, Sigrun kept her face down so as to avoid the eyes of the Dunmer, while Jonna followed her to bid farewell.

"Are you going to be alright without me?" Sigrun asked.

"I took this task, didn't I?" Jonna returned. "I'll manage." Sigrun chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"It seems such a long time ago," Sigrun explained. "Since you dragged me away from home to go seeking adventure."

"Much longer, in fact!" Jonna commented. Sigrun chuckled.

"Now I'm calling the shots and everything," she added. "I guess I've had to take charge for myself, it seems."

"I know, I know," Jonna said. "It's a strange fate that's brought us here."

"Now remember," Sigrun continued. "You promised me you'd make Da do as we talked about. Don't forget that. He needs to get rid of them."

"I'll...see about it," Jonna sighed.

They passed down and around the Grey Quarter, where the majority of Dunmer were to be found, and came to the gates near the docks. There were several more guards present here than usual, and Sigrun and Jonna quickly found out why. A small group of Dunmer layabouts were heckling the Argonian dock-workers and throwing stones at them. Apparently there was some bad-blood between the two races, such that Sigrun and Jonna had little to no knowledge thereof. From the gates, they made their way along the docks till they came to the one where the Northern Maiden was moored. To their surprise, they saw someone waiting for them at the ship.

"Erik?" Sigrun exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going with you," he said.

"What?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I'm tired of being dragged around here and there, told to stay put and do nothing. I could have gotten that in Rorikstead. So I'm going with you: I want to see Solstheim."

"Not sure how much of it you'll get to see," Sigrun said. "Once I've dealt with the Thalmor, I'm coming back as soon as possible."

"That could take days, weeks," Erik returned. "And that's good enough for me."

Jonna got on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around Sigrun. With a last bidding of "Kyne be with you", she let her go and board the ship with Erik in tow. The cold sea winds started to sting her eyes, and only then she realized that she was tearing up. It was the third time they had parted since their journey had begun: so far, the last two had been on not-so-amicable terms. Now they were parting as friends, and both many years in the past. Sigrun would have to take care of herself on Solstheim. Jonna smiled: of course Sigrun could take care of herself, that much was proven when she became Stormborn in Eastmarch.

But what about her? What about Jonna, the daughter of Jordis? She was now alone in this world. Her mother was in Solitude, and Lydia was her only confidant. She didn't have the same kind of pull that Sigrun had with Eirik and Mjoll, being their child. But more than that, she now had the full burden of the quest upon her shoulders. She would have to maintain the war in Sigrun's absence, and convince Eirik to commit an act which, she guessed, he would sooner become High King than undertake.

"Kyne help me, too," she said, before ascending the stairs back to the thoroughfare of Windhelm and to Candlehearth Hall.

The Northern Maiden left Windhelm on the twenty-fifth day of Morning Star. According to the captain, it would take them five days to sail to Solstheim, given the conditions. Sigrun and Erik went below and tried to pass the time as best they could. Unfortunately, neither of them had been to sea before, and Sigrun's issue made her even more irritable coupled with sea-sickness. For the first two days, they were more often on deck hurling the contents of their stomachs into the sea. By night, they slept down below in the cargo hold, usually among the sacks of food stuffs. In such conditions they hardly got much sleep, for they were unaccustomed to the rocking and pitching of the ship on the waves.

While they were thus traveling, Sigrun's mind was busy. She wondered about what was going on back in Windhelm, and if Jonna could convince her Father to do what must be done. She also thought about Erik, and how close they were now in the hold. Before she hadn't had a single fear: after all, Father wouldn't do anything to her, and even when they traveled, they were in a group of mostly women and Jonna wouldn't let harm befall her. But now it was just her and Erik: would he try anything with her?

Her mind then drifted to one portion that had been often neglected, but not erased on account of neglect. Sex was not something she had much of an occasion to try out: there were few people at the homestead besides her parents and their friends - all of them much older than her - and the name of Dragonborn held just enough weight that no one in Falkreath or Riverwood messed with his family. That wasn't to say, of course, that she didn't have such thoughts. She often considered what Jonna had boasted, about swearing off anyone who couldn't out-drink her. But that seemed silly, since she wanted something more than just someone incredibly strong. Her mind kept going back to Erik, and how many times they had ridden together in the saddle, his groin far too close to her hind quarters than she would have liked: then again, it meant her back was against his chest. She liked his chest; the years of farming had been kind to him.

No, she dismissed. I'm not here to take a lover, I'm here to fight and win a war.

Then another thought entered into her mind, as if from nowhere. Was that even an option for her at this point? After all, she was here, in the past. In her time, Erik was her Father's age and she was still seventeen. How would she get back to her own time? The totem hadn't made it back with them when they came back here, and she had no way of reaching Bjorn, especially since he was either dead or not even conceived yet. And what about children? She may not have had the experience, but she wasn't so naive that she didn't know how children were made: gods alone knew she was reminded of that when her parents got busy. She couldn't even begin to think about children until after the war was over.

Still, if it were an option, she could do much worse than Erik.

Focus, Sigrun, focus, she told herself as she drifted off into a deep sleep. To her surprise, the images of fear were replaced with warm memories of her back against Erik's chest.

The Northern Maiden arrived on Solstheim on the thirtieth day of Morning Star. Sigrun and Erik came above deck to see what was going on: they were docked but had no permission to disembark yet. She was surprised, and more than a little worried, at the sight of all the Dunmer, especially the ones in yellow armor: Redoran guards wearing suits of hardened netch leather. Captain Gjalund Salt-Sage was in deep discussion with a shorter, and very angry, Dunmer official. From what they could gather, there was a threat of some kind of incident and the Redoran guard were extremely suspicious of anyone coming in or out of Raven Rock, especially "Imperials."

"We're not Imperials, dammit!" Captain Gjalund protested.

"Obviously," sneered the official. "But your Skyrim is still part of the Empire, regardless of your petty squabbles. That means you and your crew are under suspicion. We'll take you to the Bulwark and search you for anything suspicious."

"This is preposterous!" Captain Gjalund returned.

"Huh, surprised you even know that word," the official remarked.

"We've been coming back and forth to this spot for months, years even!" said Gjalund. "And now this?"

"Things are different now in Raven Rock, and that's all you need to know," said the official in return. "Now come, into the Bulwark or we'll use force."

Sigrun, Erik, and the rest of the Northern Maiden's crew were detained in the Bulwark and frisked for anything suspicious by the guards. Sigrun was worried that they'd find the letter and the jig would be up. If they were this suspicious about them at a glance, imagine how much more they'd be once finding a blank letter. Far too soon the guard found it and, to Sigrun's surprise, read from it.

"'Gone to Winterhold. Love, your uncle Bjorn?'" he said. "What does this mean?"

"Just what it says?" Sigrun asked, just as surprised as he was to read it.

"Don't be cute with me, n'wah b*tch," he returned. "Everyone in Morrowind knows that Winterhold is a husk. No one goes there. There's a secret message hidden on this!" Sigrun gulped.

"No, you've got it all wrong," Sigrun said: lying suddenly didn't seem so difficult when put on the spot in a tight situation. "It's my uncle on my father's side. He's gone to Winterhold to study magic."

"This isn't Skyrim, n'wah," the guard returned. "We're not idiots here. This is obviously some sort of coded message."

To Sigrun's horror, the letter was confiscated by the guard. Minutes later, Erik was taken off to one room and she in another. Several tense, uneasy minutes passed until the Dunmer official who had stopped them at the docks entered the room.

"My name is Adril Arano," he greeted. "I am Second Councilor of Raven Rock. Now I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want to have them answered immediately and truthfully."

"May I please have my letter back?" Sigrun asked.

"I do the asking, n'wah!" he retorted. "Your task is to listen and answer, nothing more. Now, then: what is your name?"

"Sigrun," she replied. "Sigrun Stormborn."

"Do you have a family, Sigrun Sigrun Stormborn?" Councilor Adril asked.

"It's just Sigrun."

"Oh really?" he drawled. "Can never tell with you people. Now then, Sigrun Stormborn, do you have family?"

"N...yes," she quickly replied. "They're back in Skyrim. My uncle..."

"What brings you to Raven Rock?"

"I'm a mercenary," she replied. "Selling my services to the highest bidder, that sort of thing."

"A sellsword, hmm?" Adril mused. "Rather forth-coming, curious. Alright then, sellsword, are you affiliated with the Fighters Guild?"

"No," she replied.

"But all mercenaries have to be registered with the Fighters Guild," he returned. "Or perhaps your allegiances lie...elsewhere. That would be perfectly fine for certain parties. You're clearly not Morag Tong, that's for sure. Have you had any interaction with persons associated with the Empire in Cyrodiil?"

"No," she returned, confident that this time, at least, she could speak the full truth in good conscience.

"You're lying," he retorted.

"I am not!"

"Silence! Have you made contact with any members of House Hlaalu?"

"Who?"

"Wrong answer!"

"What?"

"You know, for an assassin, you're a very poor one."

"I'm not an assassin."

"Liar!" Adril retorted. "You come here on your wester ship, land here on our land, and expect me to believe that you're nothing more than a freelance sellsword who's here to merely take in the lovely sights of Solstheim? I know your kind are born stupid, but that's a new low, even for you Nords."

"I don't know what you're getting at, but you're wrong."

"Oh, of course. It's always the mer who are wrong, and humans who are right. Well, that may work in Skyrim or Cyrodiil, or whatever backwards fetching hole you come from, but you're in Morrowind now. And two s'wits of the devil n'wah race - lower than scamps or mudcrabs - come armed into our land. Use whatever wit you have to ask yourself this: should I not be suspicious that two of our enemies just walk into our land?"

"I am not an enemy," Sigrun said through clenched teeth. "I'm just here to do some adventuring."

"Say it slower, fetcher, it just makes you look stupid," sneered Adril. "Won't make me believe you any more."

With that, Councilor Adril left and the guards came back and returned Sigrun to a dark and dreary cell. There were no walls or windows, only a single grate in the door that offered little light. Sigrun slumped down in frustration against the side of her cell, feeling quite defeated. What was she going to say to them to convince them that she wasn't a threat?

Time seemed to drag on with little to no indication of how much was passing. After a while, the sound of keys rattling in the door's lock shook Sigrun up from her stupor. She was then being dragged out of the Bulwark and dropped out into the ashen wilderness with Erik: their weapons were returned, but Sigrun's letter hadn't been given back to her. The Dunmer merely told them that they were free, but gave them no indication as to why they were captured or for what reason they were detained. They were merely dumped out and placed on their own.

"Well, how's about that?" Erik asked.

"I need to get my letter back," Sigrun groaned. "Without that, we won't know what the next step is!"

"Good luck trying to convince them to get it back," Erik replied. "It'd take a miracle."

"Come on," Sigrun sighed. "Let's move."

"Where?"

"North," she said. "We've got to find the Skaal."

"And then what?"

"Stop the Thalmor threat, and go home."

"Well, one of those things is going to be a bit difficult," Erik noted. "Considering our ship's impounded back there."

"Dammit!" Sigrun snarled. "This wouldn't have happened if my Father had come here instead! He could just summon a dragon and fly back to Skyrim!"

"Wait, who's your father again?" Erik asked.

Sigrun suddenly realized that she hadn't told him the truth. She wondered just how much of her idle talk he had managed to overhear, and how much he had pieced together just from paying attention while they moved around and without him.

"It's...a long story."

"We have nothing but time," he replied.

"Look, how about this?" she asked. "Help me find the Skaal, and I'll tell you the story, okay? Is that a deal?"

"Deal," he replied, holding out his hand. Sigrun awkwardly took it, gripping it tightly before letting it go. "So, then, which way do we start looking for them?"

Sigrun looked back at him with a smirk. "East."

(AN: And just like that, we have our third separation of Sigrun from Jonna. Hopefully Jonna can assert herself and convince Eirik to do what he must in Windhelm, and that Sigrun won't kill half of Solstheim before she returns.)

(So funny story that I wanted to throw out there: in the first story, I ended up fashioning Eirik after Clive Standen's Rollo from Vikings, and Mjoll from, well, Jeri Ryan [mostly known for her role in Star Trek Voyager]. Recently I've had my eye on someone else to give visual representation to our favorite Nord badass: Gaia Weiss [another Vikings alumni], since she is taller [and also younger]. And then just recently I saw a picture of both of them on set and in costume, and I got excited inside.)