A/N: I don't know about you, but I am so ready for autumn. The cooler winds will be awesome. Although, I am not ready to constantly hear loud Christmas music in every store. Life is a balance, I suppose. Anyways, presented with great care and mild trepidation is the next chapter. Thank you for everyone's feedback and compliments. It's made writing this story a true treat.

*Disclaimer*

*As always, I own only my OCs. The main plots and recognizable characters are from the brilliant minds of Bethesda's Elder Scrolls franchise writers.*

*Translations for Dovahzul listed at end of chapter.*

Chapter VIII- Are Introductions Always Awkward?

"I think Jin is calling you, Martin."

Martin looked up from his space beside one of the refugees to see the familiar figure of Jin looking at them. When their eyes met, hers brightened and a wry grin lit her face.

"Ah, get your butt over here boy. I need someone with brains but Oleta is busy."

Jin's voice was loud, carrying easily over the murmurs of the gathering crowds and beckoning him closer. With a nod to the person beside him, Martin wove through the sea of people. I wonder what she needs me for now? As he grew closer, the Imperial noticed another figure sitting beside Jin. They were occupying the same stool that he had been forced onto earlier when Jin had demanded to see the freshly healed wound on his thigh. Oleta and her apprentice had worked wonders but there was a limp in his step that persisted and likely would remain as a reminder of the battle for a few days.

"I'm glad you think so highly of my help, Jin," Martin joked as he came to stand next to her. Warmth filled him as the elderly healer scoffed and rolled her eyes. On the other side of Jin, the figure he had seen before was revealed to be a battered looking woman in truly filthy armor. The scent of blood, dirt, and sweat filled the air around her and he had to hide a wince at the frankly nasty wound on her shoulder. It was that wound that was undoubtedly the reason Jin called him over, especially if Oleta was occupied. His fingers twitched painfully as he thought of what spells might help accelerate the healing process. Jin had reprimanded him heavily when she'd seen the red of his fingers, the magicka burns spreading up just past the first knuckle joint after his fingertips. However, she hadn't been able to make him promise to not use his magicka. There were too few who knew healing magic to ban him, even in the delicate state his core was in. Martin was drawn out of his thoughts as Jin spoke, shuffling past him.

"Like I told shorty over here, we're going to need to get that armor off to clean the wound," Jin stated, walking over to the woman and poking her in the ribs. The woman looked down at Jin's wrinkled finger like it was something she'd never seen before, eyes blinking at every prod. Hopefully she's just dazed and not in shock. He would need to check her pupils if Jin hadn't already done so. Jin stepped back and looked the woman in the eye, brow lifted.

"You let him help so I don't have to spend even longer working on that shoulder."

The Nord nodded, though her eyes flashed with annoyance. Jin laughed loudly, able to see right through the woman's frown. No shock then, she's very aware of her surroundings. Amusement filled him as he watched her eyes track Jin with caution. The elderly healer continued to chuckle as she turned to look back at Martin, her expression mirthful. Jin has entirely too much fun riling up her patients.

"I'm going to collect the supplies we'll need to clean that wound and the others that are no doubt hiding underneath all of that mess. Get started removing that armor."

Martin watched as the older woman shuffled off for a moment. He was grateful to work with Jin. Honestly, he was grateful to know Jin at all. If she hadn't refused to give up on him, well he would have probably found himself dead in a ditch somewhere years before. With a small smile, Martin shook his head and turned to face their patient. The woman was a Nord, that much was clear. A narrow face with high cheekbones and a strong nose, she carried many of the common features associated with her people. The woman was watching him with guarded curiosity in her eyes. A dark shade of brown that was easily mistaken for black, her eyes were by far the easiest thing about her to read. They reflected her emotions quite clearly, betraying the otherwise neutral expression on her face. Martin paused in his perusal, surprised. There was something strangely familiar in her gaze though he was sure that he'd never met the woman. Odd. Blinking, he shook his head and allowed himself to fully assess the Nord as he contemplated how to safely remove the armor. He could have her try to work out the clasps that were on the center of her breastplate and then help her get the rest of the armor off to get a better look at the shoulder wound. The woman's hair drew his attention as he thought. It clung to her scalp in dirty and bloody clumps but stray curls stubbornly frizzed out in a halo around her face. Martin couldn't honestly say what color they were, given the amount of dirt and debris covering her. His skin itched with sympathy.

"What's your name? I am Brother Martin, but you are welcome to call me Martin if it makes you more comfortable." He introduced himself, moving to step forward. The woman flinched as he got closer, making him pause. He watched carefully as she shook her head, face troubled before looking back up at him and smiling thinly.

"Thank you, my name is Lumi," She replied curtly, extending a hand. Martin looked at it for a moment before stepping forward and extending his own. He clasped her forearm carefully. Her grip was firm but not so much as to be painful. He tried to keep his the same, keenly aware of her injuries and how she seemed to try and hide her pain. Again, he found himself looking at her face and feeling the oddest wash of familiarity. There was something going on here, something unusual. Martin was good with faces but he was entirely certain that there was no way he'd met this woman, Lumi, before in his life. Her thick northern accent reinforced his feelings on the matter. Those in Cyrodiil, even northern Bruma, did not have accents like that. Only those from Skyrim did. After another moment, the two released their grips and Martin stepped back. Lumi grinned crookedly.

"So how are we doing this?" She asked.

Martin pursed his lips, looking once more at the torn armor. There were clasps in front, but the sleeve would probably have to be cut off.

"First, I need you to remove the bracers but afterwards, I'd like you to try and undo the clasps to see what your current range of motion is. If you need help I will assist but for now, I will only be monitoring your shoulder movement." He explained as concisely as he could, a small bud of relief blooming in his chest as she nodded and began working.

Lumi moved slowly, hands lightly shaking as she worked through the clasps on her bracers. It was clear that any fine movement like with her fingers was difficult on the arm connected to her wounded shoulder. But she could move them. That was a good sign. It meant less potential nerve damage. Martin watched carefully as she worked upwards, starting on the chest piece. The first clasps were easy enough for her to manage, being that they were closer to her legs and required less straining of the shoulder muscles. However, as she reached the clasps towards the middle of her torso, Lumi had to stop using her damaged arm, the bending making the hurt flesh visibly flare up. She breathed through her nose tightly, brows scrunched with concentration. He left her to undo the straps until her fingers refused to unclasp one of the fixtures for the third time in a row.

"Here, let me. You've shown a good range of motion but we don't want your muscles to strain unnecessarily at this stage." He broadcast his movements well in advance as he stepped into her personal bubble. It was important to establish a sense of trust with patients and this one seemed to value personal space more than others. Martin was content to give her that space as much as he could while treating her. Lumi's eyes moved to look at anything except for Martin as he quickly made short work of the clasps she'd struggled with. Stepping to the side, he gently grabbed hold of the leather from her uninjured side and began to pull it back, revealing an unexpected sight.

"You were wearing chainmail underneath the leather armor?" He asked suddenly as the dull gleam of metal came into view.

Lumi nodded, confusion practically rippling from her in invisible waves. She narrowed her eyes, watching him as he pulled back the leather armor until all that remained was on her injured side. The exposed mail, for that was what it was, had been coated liberally in a thick, red dirt that hid the gleam of the metal rings. The shade and state of the mail had left it relatively concealed until he had dug beneath the sturdy leather of her main armor.

"I had to make it less noticeable. Daedra like shiny things." Lumi grunted as he pulled experimentally at the leather around her shoulder. Martin moved the stiff material carefully, eyes focused on the skin around the wound. He heard Lumi hiss in pain as he tried to lift the mail from her shoulder.

"Akatosh…" Martin breathed, eyes wide with shock. Lumi looked at him expectantly. It was clear that she had no idea what he was so surprised by as she waited for him to speak once more. Martin took a moment to compose himself. How in the divines did she damage her chain mail so severely? Where the leather split and crumbled, the hidden chain underneath it had been perfectly cut, like a slab of butter under a hot knife. It was a straight cut, with partially melted chain stuck to the leather and the cloth underneath it all. Just looking at the wound made Martin's stomach turn uncomfortably. He looked back at Lumi's face. How is she still conscious?

"What did this?" He ignored how his voice wavered as he waited for a response. Lumi chewed on her lip before looking back at him.

"A clannfear got lucky after the armor was damaged from another daedra earlier in the fight. Its claw is what cut me but a flame atronach decided to be kind and heat me up after the fact. I would've used healing hands but I couldn't find time." Martin's eyes snapped to look at Lumi seriously.

"It's a good thing you didn't! You would've only grown new skin over top of this." He walked over to the work table that had been set up and grabbed a pair of shears. Lumi's face was troubled as she followed his movements.

"What do you mean? Wouldn't it have just knit the skin back together?" She asked uneasily. It was a fair question, one that was technically correct and wrong at the same time.

Martin shook his head. "Ordinarily, yes. But you've got metal and fabric partially melted into your shoulder, Lumi. It's a miracle that you're even awake right now. I certainly wouldn't be." He carefully cut away at the leather, leaving only the material around her wound. The chainmail had partially fused to the leather above it, making removing the mail shirt impossible until Jin rejoined them. Which should be soon unless someone has asked her something silly. It was going to take two sets of hands to safely extricate the materials from her shoulder. And it would hurt. Badly. Martin was inclined to administer milk of poppy if he thought the woman in front of him would allow it. He did not want any person to be awake for this type of procedure. The flesh had fused with the fabric and metal around it when the atronach unintentionally cauterized the wound, meaning they would be tearing open already burnt and ripped skin to clean it.

"What happened to your fingers, Martin?"

The Imperial blinked, surprised by her question. Lumi was looking at his fingers carefully as he held the shears. He had already had time to get used to their current appearance but he supposed that to most they would be shocking. The skin was pink and shining as each movement pulled the fresh growth tightly. Short stabs of pain occurred if he wasn't mindful of the amount of pressure he was applying but the worst of it definitely came if he tried to call on his magicka. It was like the very thought summoned a phantom burning sensation.

"I overextended my magicka reserves to ward the building. The flesh will finish healing in a few days." He explained, trying to ignore the way her eyes flashed with some unknowable emotion.

"Would it help if I-,' she gestured with her own hands, the tips faintly glowing with the start of a restoration spell. Martin shook his head, smiling kindly.

"My thanks, but it is alright. My core is still stabilizing right now and the introduction of any foreign magicka would be inadvisable until it settles. Besides, Jin insists that I need to heal the 'good old-fashioned way' as a reminder of my stupidity."

Lumi laughed, and Martin found himself doing the same, glad to have something to laugh over after the long day. He knew the seriousness of the battle and siege would find him again soon, but for now, he could enjoy the moment of calm.

The familiar huff of an annoyed old woman was a breath of fresh air for the still smiling Imperial and Nord pair as Jin returned, a younger child following her with their hands full of supplies. She looked at the progress they'd made, eyes darkening as a grim expression took residence on her already tired face. Hopefully, this would be the last serious wound of the day. Though another group left some time ago to free the castle. So probably not. Martin stepped forward and helped the child set down Jin's supplies, smiling softly at the relieved look on the little one's face. He didn't recognize the boy as an acolyte. Likely, he was just a refugee that had asked to help or had been roped into it by Jin herself. He liked to believe the former rather than the latter but knowing Jin, both were likely.

"Thank you for helping Sister Jin." He murmured to the child, clasping the boy's shoulder gently. The boy nodded, smiling at the older man before trotting off into the crowd.

"Alright. Martin, get over here with the milk of the poppy." Jin ordered, hand reaching back in a grabbing motion.

"Milk of the poppy? Is that absolutely necessary?" Lumi's voice was noticeably shakier, and Martin didn't have to be facing her to know that her expression was likely one of extreme discomfort. He wondered why she was afraid. It would be like taking a nap while they took care of the painful parts. Jin seemed to share his opinion as she laughed darkly.

"Unless you'd rather have to be held down while Martin and I dig melted metal and cloth from your skin, shorty, then yes, I'd say it is."

Martin found the bottle of pale liquid quickly, handing it off to Jin. He turned and watched as the elderly healer engaged in a tense stare down with the younger woman. It was impressive, how the Nord was able to hold eye contact with Jin. Normally, patients would back down immediately when faced with Jin's stare, but Lumi was not giving up. Her brown eyes were blown wide with fear but the determined set of her mouth spoke volumes to the healers. For whatever reason, she was terrified of milk of the poppy.

"Do you have a reason for refusing our help, missy?" Jin drawled, eyes glinting as she handed the bottle back to Martin. Lumi's shoulders shrank for a moment before the movement was halted with a faint wince.

"I haven't had the best reactions to milk of poppy." She admitted reluctantly. Jin examined her closely, barely blinking. Martin did not envy the Nord.

"How do you mean? And be honest, no matter how embarrassing you find it." The elderly Imperial demanded explanation. Lumi sighed, fiddling with her fingers.

"It takes longer to work and I have to use higher dosages. Don't know why. It doesn't keep me under for long either unless I'm lucky. My pain tolerance is pretty high naturally but I woke up in the middle of a procedure before and could feel everything." That is…. disturbing. Martin couldn't imagine how he would react to someone waking up in the middle of surgery. If they could feel everything that had been happening to them? The thought made him want to shudder.

"What color is your hair?" Jin asked suddenly. Both Lumi and Martin looked at the woman, confused. What did hair color have to do with anything?

"Uh, it's a mix of red and brown." Lumi answered after a moment.

Jin nodded like it was what she had been expecting to hear. Lumi shot him a questioning look but Martin was as lost as she was and could only shrug.

"I don't know why, so don't go asking me, but I've seen a few people with reactions like yours. All of them had red hair." Jin explained.

That was weird. He didn't doubt Jin, but Martin had no idea why a person's hair color would have any bearing on the effectiveness of poppy. He hadn't heard of such a thing before, though he would freely admit to not focusing on the healing arts as much as he could have. By no means was he a bad healer, but this was not something he had been exposed to before.

"How did you handle those patients?" Lumi was quiet but there was a hopeful expression on her face. Jin gestured to the bottle Martin was still holding.

"I gave them a much larger dose than I normally would for their size and got to work as soon as they showed signs of the poppy working. Used herbs that cause numbing at the site of the wound as well just in case. As long as Martin isn't feeling like emulating a snail, I think we should be able to clean that shoulder up before you wake."

Lumi was quiet as she deliberated Jin's words. After a few moments, the woman nodded, face set. Jin chuckled, patting the Nord on the knee before gesturing for her to get up. The pair moved to a nearby pew, leaving Martin to ready their supplies. As soon as she was sat, Jin grabbed the bottle back from Martin and removed the cork. Without hesitating, she tapped Lumi's cheek, waiting as the woman opened her mouth. A few moments later and Jin had joined him in gathering the necessary herbs and tinctures. Anticipation filled his gut as they walked back to the Nord, whose eyes were growing noticeably heavy. He wondered how much milk of poppy Jin had given her to work that fast. Probably enough to knock me out for some time. He watched and waited as the time between each of Lumi's blinks grew slower, her eyes staying closed for just that brief moment longer every time. There was work to be done.

Lumi blinked, eyes full of grit. She pushed herself up, hands moving to rub at her face. Wind blew threw her hair, and Lumi realized it was loose, the curls free to tickle her neck and grab at the playful breeze. I could have sworn I had pulled back my hair so no one could grab it. She thought, confused. With a final brush, Lumi pulled her hands away and opened her eyes, only to blink in shock as she looked around. Mountains greeted her wide eyes. As far as she could see, snow-capped, jagged peaks stretched across the skyline, with dark green forests crowding their bases like rippling blankets. Anything below the tree line was lost in a blanket of low-hanging white clouds that roiled like sea waves. Lumi was situated on a large, remarkably smooth cliff-face in front of what looked like a dragon priest temple. She tilted her head, taking in the structure. It was similar to what she had seen in Skyrim's most remote regions, but strange details stuck out to her. For one, the megalithic structure was in perfect condition, no sign of weathering anywhere on the bleached stone surface, its carvings still in perfect rendering. Like they had been carved only yesterday and not thousands of generations past. The carvings themselves were strange in that there was only one figure repeating throughout the exterior of the complex, a beautiful dragon with glowing white eyes like a permanent fire was lit in them. How strange…

Despite being so high up, the air around her was warm and not nearly as thin as it should have been. She could recall with startling clarity how difficult it was to breathe once she'd reached a certain elevation on her journey up the Seven Thousand Steps before reaching High Hrothgar and the Throat of the World. The air there had been so icy it was searing, like little knives cutting the soft flesh inside her throat with every breath.

Crack!

Lumi jumped as a sound like a thunderclap echoed across the sky. She turned and looked about frantically for the source of the noise. Nothing had moved within the temple or the space she was in. Glancing up, Lumi froze as a shape she had originally thought was the sun appeared to be rapidly descending. It was massive, far bigger than even Alduin had been. She could make out no details as the golden light shimmered and rippled around the object like a cloak. As it drew nearer, the shape only grew and grew in size until it was nearly the same area as the courtyard she was standing in. The glow receded enough for her to make out what it was as it came to a stop just above the ground. A dragon. A giant gods-damned golden dragon.

Oh, sweet glittering Bormahu. I am dead.

"Drem, goraan gein. Peace, young one. The dragon's voice was a rumbling laugh that shook her bones.

"Who are you? Did Paarthurnax send you?" She questioned cautiously. She really hoped this one was sided with Paarthurnax. The dov tilted his head, teeth bared in what she recognized as a smile, or as close to smiling as dragons came.

"Zu'u los Bormahu, dovahkiin."

Borma- Her brain nearly short-circuited. "You're Bormahu?!" She cried, shock filling her as the great golden dragon nodded its massive head. Lumi felt her legs give out from under her. The dragon, Bormahu, her fried brain supplied, steadied her with his head. It was bigger and taller than her entire body, the crown of her own head only reaching just below the god's nostril. How is this possible? Am I dead? Is this some strange, dragonborn afterlife? Oh lord, they gave me too much poppy and I died. Great.

"Hi su'um faal yol do laas. You are alive, my hatchling. Simply dreaming," Bormahu spoke calmly. It seemed that he was amused by her panicking as a small tendril of white smoke puffed out of his nostrils.

"Why, why am I here, Bormahu?" She asked hesitantly. She couldn't just have a normal dream after the shit show of the past twelve hours. Nope. That would be too nice. Frustration simmered under her skin despite the awe she felt at being in the presence of her literal god. The one who made her dragonborn and imbued her with the strength to subdue his firstborn. He had to know why she was in Kvatch, a hundred and eighty some odd years before she would even be born. Perhaps he could send her back home.

"There is much to discuss, dovahkiin. I am here to, aak, guide you as you bo, fly, through the rathhe do tiid, the rivers of time,' Bormahu began, switching between the tongue of joorre and dov easily. 'The prophecy of the dovahkiin has been completed; my firstborn, Alduin, vanquished and my other kirre, children, under the wing of the wuth sadon gein. But kein, war, awaits."

Lumi blinked rapidly. War? Where? When? She did not know if he meant the war between the Stormcloaks and Imperials, the one between mortals and Mehrunes Dagon, or something else entirely. There were too many wars in her future for comfort. Yes, because war has always cared about my comfort. The press of panic creeped threateningly around the edges of her chest.

"Could you be more specific?" The Nord mustered the courage to speak and immediately winced at what came out. Her mother would slap her with a dishrag if she had heard that. Only you would back talk a god, child! Lumi could imagine her crying, exasperation painting the older woman's voice like a mural of motherly disbelief and annoyance. Bormahu growl-laughed, white eyes glowing with gentle warmth.

"You are on the right path, my daughter.' The great golden dragon reassured her, 'Dreh ni bovul nol faah krif. Alduin grew arrogant and vain, and in doing so forgot the greatest of lessons. Dov wahlaan fah rel, but the strongest dov is nothing when naalein, alone. Mu fen tinvaak, we will talk again."

With that the god stepped back and lifted his wings. Lumi's eyes widened as she recognized his movements. The Nord scrambled back, as far from the great dragon's wings as possible. Wind whipped her hair back as Bormahu flapped his wings and began to run toward the cliff's edge. The ground shook with every step as he ran and Lumi swore she could hear chanting. Sunlight glittered on the god's hide, turning his golden scales into a miniature sun as, with a final step, he plummeted off the mountain and disappeared into the void below. Lumi's heart hammered in her chest but she stayed in place, waiting. Each beat felt like a small eternity before a joyful roar echoed across the mountains and a blur of light zoomed upward. She watched, transfixed, as the god of time danced across the air currents high above and inside of her chest, something stirred. Longing. To be able to break free of her form and fly like her scaled kin did. Being in the air was like no other feeling. The knowledge of how the wind would whisper songs and secrets carried from far off places and long-forgotten times made the loveliest poems from the best bards fall flat. Selfishly, Lumi wondered if she would ever fly again.

Bormahu's voice echoed in her head.

"Ko tiid, dii kiir, mu fen pah bo."

In time, my child, we will all fly.

Thanks for reading this chapter! As promised, here are the dovahzul translations:

Drem, goraan gein: Peace, young one.

Zu'u los Bormahu, dovahkiin: I am Akatosh, dragonborn.

Hi su'um faal yol do laas: You breath the fire of life.

Rathhe do tiid: The rivers of time

wuth sadon gein: old grey one

Dreh ni bovul nol faah: Do not flee from the fight.

Dov wahlaan fah rel: Dragons were created for domination.

Mu fen tinvaak: We will talk again

Ko tiid, dii kiir, mu fen pah bo: In time, my child, we will all fly.