Fahiil

Thera

I watched in silence as a group of four foolish Nords assaulted a giant. I crouched behind a rock just far enough away that the humans would not see or hear me – or the giant, for that matter. I did not have a death wish.

Neither, it seemed, did the humans. A large man with a steel sword longer than I am tall stood before the giant, drawing its attention and somehow shrugging off the obscenely powerful blows that rained down on him in the form of the giant's mammoth-bone club. Behind the giant, two humans slashed their swords at the monster's legs – a vain effort, for the wounds most likely felt the same as bug stings to the huge creature. The fourth human stood apart from the others, aiming a bow and arrow carefully at the giant. Suddenly, the arrow flew from her bow with a twang and rushed through the air towards the head of her target. The giant roared in agony as the arrow pierced its eye, and the giant fell to its knees in pain. As it cried painfully on the ground, the large man brought his large sword down on its head. There was a crunch that even I could hear, as far away as I was, and blood rushed from the wound like a geyser. Brain and blood rained down on the large man, who screamed in victory and passion. I gasped and stared at the scene in awe for a moment, then felt my blood freeze: the woman was staring right at me.

I stood up and began to walk casually down the road towards Whiterun to warn the land of dragons – Ralof's aunt had asked me to warn the local lord, the Garl, or Yar, something human and stupid like that. I had agreed in an attempt to further cement the trust of Ralof, and perhaps the trust of Ulfric Stormcloak as well. I glanced over at the sight of the warriors bathing in the blood of the giant, and noticed with an internal start that the woman was gone. "Well that's taken care of – no thanks to you," her voice came from behind me. I flinched and turned around quickly, both blades drawn. There were few who could sneak up on me – and none of those I had ever encountered were humans.

"Ahem... You didn't look like you needed help," I replied with a conciliatory tone. I sheathed my twin swords with a sigh.

"Ha! Certainly not. But a true warrior would have relished the opportunity to take on a giant. That's why I'm here with my Shield-Brothers," the woman mocked.

"Ah, you are a Companion," I said, the final term she used ringing familiar from my briefing on Skyrim.

"Impressive – not many outsiders know of us," the woman said. She crossed her arms and glared at me. "Especially elves."

"Then you have not met the correct elves," I retorted. "The companions are admired across Tamriel for their strength in battle – and you are feared because of your connection to Ysgramor Elf-Bane."

"Hm – yes," the woman said. She considered me for a moment. "There is a certain fire to you – perhaps you would belong with us. If you are interested, see Kodlak Whitemane in Jorvasskr. He'll test you."

The woman turned around and began walking to her allies, not even giving me a second thought. I narrowed my eyes as she walked away. Damn human, I cursed inwardly. I considered killing her and her allies, but decided against it. Not only was it not worth the legal exposure it would cause, but she and the large human would cause me no small amount of trouble. If all warriors in the Companions were like them, it would be critical to my mission to... decimate them from within.

I shook my head, knowing I would deal with the human guild when the time came. In the meantime, I had to make my way to the local noble's castle. I walked past acres of farmland, around the huge walled city atop the hill to my right. The castle – a keep known as "Dragonsreach" – jutted into the sky from atop the hill. Eventually, I passed a stable and made my way up the hill to the entrance of the city.

"Halt!" an overly aggressive human guard shouted as I approached the gate. I stared, unimpressed, at the man's armor. He was dressed the same as me – but with yellow everywhere the blue on my armor was draped. I pursed my lips. I needed new armor. "The gate's closed with the news of dragons about."

I sighed. "That's why I'm here," I replied. Stupid human. "I was at Helgen."

The man froze fearfully. "Helgen?" he asked. He sheathed his weapon, and I could practically smell the fear running off of his dirty human skin. "I – The Jarl will want to see you straight away. Go to the keep, quick as you can!" I nodded and waited for the man to open the gate. When he finally did, I stepped through the huge doors.

Whiterun was a large enough city. Nords – and, indeed, other humans and the occasional elf – ran about doing their business with impatience. I overheard a woman arguing with a Nord man about supplying armor to the Imperials. My head turned in that direction, and I stared past the woman at the blacksmith shop. I grinned to myself and quietly made my way, unnoticed, into the building.

As I exited, I was very different. The familiar weight of the golden armor of my ancestors supplied a feeling of my far off homeland of which I was sorely in need. I cracked my knuckles behind my armored gloves and finished strapping the second elven blade to my hip. I glanced over my shoulder at the smithy; stealing from humans is always fun – and affordable.

I checked the straps of the armor once again and walked up the many hills of the city with purpose. I passed countless stores and arguing groups of humans. The city seemed to be split down the middle in the civil war. Two ancient and respected families, the Battle-Borns and the Grey-Manes, each took the position of leadership for the different factions. The Battle-Borns, rich from trade with the Empire, were the staunchest supporters of the failing human government. The Grey-Manes, meanwhile, believed in the incredibly foolish and inane power grab of Ulfric Stormcloak, the unwitting Aldmeri asset. I took special note of the two families for my mission to extend and exacerbate the civil war, and moved on.

I stalked past Jorvasskr and an insane priest screaming about the "Glories of Talos, god of Men!" I rolled my eyes and thought about how nice it would be to alert the Justicars to the presence of the Talos Worshiper in Whiterun. Maybe I would even get to help with the torture at Northwatch Keep. I grinned at the thought.

I pushed myself through the huge doors of the keep, and was immediately greeted by the sounds of the noble and his advisers arguing. I chuckled to myself and walked through the hall towards the noble. One of the man's advisers, a Dark Elf woman, caught sight of me and drew her blade. "Who are you? State your business or be cut down," the woman demanded as neared me. Her stance was threatening and revealed the great battle prowess she held.

I laughed slightly. "Do not worry, Sister. I come to offer help – I was at Helgen."

"You were at Helgen..? Come along then," the woman said. She sheathed her blade and began walking towards her noble. Without so much as a glance back: "And do not call me sister, Elf."

Just my luck, the first elf I meet in Skyrim is a Nord in disguise, I thought. Still I followed the woman and removed my helmet. I looked enough like my Dunmer mother to not appear a Thalmor to the humans around me. Maybe not to the Dunmer herself, but I would deal with that if or when the time came. "Jarl Balgruuf, this one says she was at Helgen."

The Nordic Jarl, a giant of a man decorated with expensive clothing, stared at me with intelligent – for a human – eyes. His unruly mop of blonde hair that mingled with his well groomed beard shivered from the quick movement of his head. He stared at me for a moment, his vision calculating. "So. You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" he asked finally. His accent was thick – thicker than most of the humans I had encountered so far. Somehow, however, the accent made him easier to understand. Am I starting to speak like these sub-Mer freaks?

"Yes," I said, struggling to not accent my Aldmeri accent. "I was. And I offer my help. Riverwood calls for your aid."

"What's this about Riverwood being in danger?" he asked, shifting in his throne. He stared at me intently, worried for his people. Admirable, if weak.

"Gerdur sent me – she's afraid for her home. Riverwood needs your protection," I explained impatiently. "And I can tell you what I know of the dragon, however little that may be."

The Jarl nodded slowly, considering his optio"ns. "Gerdur? Owns the lumbermill, if I'm not mistaken," he said. I raised one brow, hopeful that all the lords were just as attentive and weak as this man. "Pillar of the community. Not prone to flights of fancy... And you're sure Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? This wasn't some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?"

I nodded. "Huge black dragon, called fire from the sky, burnt almost everyone to a crisp – I barely escape with my life."

"What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?" the Jarl asked, his face pointed towards a fidgety Imperial on his right side.

"My lord," Irileth began before Proventus could reply, "we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."

The Imperial adviser gasped, and immediately rejected Irileth's idea. "The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him."

The Jarl raised his hand and growled, "Enough! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl."

Proventus shook his head, and began, "We should not..."

Balgruuf interjected quickly, "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!"

The Imperial was silent for some time, then: "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties."

"That would be best," Balgruuf said. He watched the Imperial walk away slowly, then turned to me. "Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Here, take this as a small token of my esteem." The Jarl handed me a dwarven blade that burned with Magickal fire. I smiled in thanks and replaced one of the blades on my hip. I positioned the third blade on my back, and waited.

Balgruuf continued speaking as soon as I finished organizing my armor. "There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons."

The man stood from his throne and walked through his hall and into a side room. As we walked, the Jarl said, "Farengar is probably puttering around in his lab. Day and night. I'm not sure he ever sleeps."

"Oh no, that's not right," a wizard grumbled to himself as we walked into the room.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill her in with all the details," the blonde man said. The mage turned quickly and stared at me with contempt in his eyes – he thought me just another brute.

From the hall: "But I was sent here to warn the Jarl about the dragons! To get help for Riverwood!" The voice shouting was... familiar. "I need to help! I promised Alvor I would!"

"Alvor?" Balgruuf whispered. Louder: "Let him in."

A man dressed in dwarven armor ran in to our enclave, and bowed to the Jarl. "Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," he muttered.

"Yes... well, you are not the only one to come and warn me of dragons," the Jarl explained. The armored man stood straight and his eyes widened when he looked at me.

"Wait – you were a p- at Helgen, as well!" I pointed out.

"Thera, was it?" he asked, distrust running across his eyes. I saw his left hand grab the hilt of his dwarven sword.

I smiled disarmingly. "Yes, and you are... Lucius, correct?"

"Yes," he said. His grip on the sword lessened somewhat as he saw that I held the Jarl's trust.

"Well, then, Farengar work with them." Balgruuf turned from the room and walked from the room.

The mage sighed and looked between Lucius and me. "Fine. I guess I have to deal with two more 'great warriors' trying to earn the Jarl's favor," the wizar grumbled.

Lucius' eyes narrowed angrily. "Watch out," he said, "you'll step in your own shock rune."

The mage looked around wildly. "What? I didn't – Ah, you have some knowledge of the magickal gifts, eh? Well, seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way."

Lucius smirked. "Oh, indeed." He glanced at me, as if he believed the remark referred to me. "So what do you need?"

"Straight to the point. I like it," the mage said. His attention was entirely on Lucius, as if I was invisible. Perhaps the mage's pointed remark had referred to me. Fool.

"Mages," I growled under my breath.

The mage continued speaking. "Well, there's this item, a big stone. It's in Bleak-Falls -"

"Wait, Bleak-Falls Barrow? I was just there," Lucius said. He smiled widely and pulled a stone adorned with deep, artistic cuts from his pack. "Is this what you were looking for?"

The mage's eyes widened. "I'm impressed. Y-yes. This is the Dragonstone. Well done."

Suddenly, Irileth ran into the room. "Farengar, a guard just reported in from the Western Watchtower – there's been a dragon attack. The Jarl needs you," she said. The mage nodded and rushed off to his master. Irileth took a few steps, then turned back to Lucius and I. "And you two should come as well." She turned away and ran off to aid her human master. I had always thought that humans were the lowest creature, but I had been wrong. The lowest creature was an elf so broken they would serve a human, especially the brutish Nords.

I looked over at the human, who glared back at me with distrust. "You helped that Stormcloak escape," he stated.

"And you the Imperial soldier. What of it?"

"Elves don't just help Stormcloaks," he replied gruffly. He turned to follow Irileth. I raised my eyebrow and watched him leave.

"He's smart," I mumbled to myself. "Too smart." The human had to be dealt with before he figured anything out. And there was a dragon nearby ready to do just what I needed.