On the carriage ride to Markarth, I twisted the ring on my finger over and over again - not out of nervousness, but out of mindless curiosity.
Out of the kindness of the Gods, I had survived two years in Skyrim.
Had Rynjus done so as well?
I sincerely hoped that he had. Skyrim was his home, after all. He probably knew every single secret of this country. How could a Nord like Rynjus be slain by anything other than Alduin himself?
Even then, he would put up a good fight, I thought absentmindedly, staring out at the mountains surrounding Markarth. I recognized the path. We were almost there. My fingers continued to spin the ring as I scanned the southwest mountains.
In the distance, I could see smoke coming from some kind of structure, a tower. It blended into the dark rocks so well that I had never noticed it before.
"What's that?" I asked the driver. He squinted to see what I was pointing to.
"That is Dead Crone Rock," the driver answered. He spat. "Forsworn territory. I wouldn't go out there for all the gold in the Treasury House."
I had no reason to venture there, no reason at all, but Nocturnal's voice seemed to be in the breeze, luring me there. I knew better than resist her.
I stood up and hopped off the carriage. The driver pulled his horse to a hasty stop.
"Some words of advice," he said. "Those Forsworn aren't like you and me. There's no telling what they might do to you."
Perhaps the driver was right. Perhaps it was too dangerous.
Then again, I had the blessings of Nocturnal and the Nine. With them on my side, the Forsworn could do nothing to me.
I gave him a confident half-smile and shrugged. "We'll see, won't we?"
The carriage driver flicked the reins and continued his journey to Markarth. I started up the mountain on a worn dirt path toward the tower.
It took me the better part of a day to get close and even then, I still couldn't get to their front door. Forsworn patrolled a large area around Dead Crone Rock and had plenty of tripwire traps and hanging bones to raise alarms against anyone who entered their territory uninvited. I crouched down behind a large boulder and studied the tower in the dusky light.
Two possibilities came to me: I could wait a couple more hours and sneak through all of the patrols to the tower's largest set of doors or I could try to climb the cliffs around the tower to find an alternate entrance since part of the structure seemed to be built into the mountainside.
The latter seemed the safer bet, so I retreated from the safety of the boulder and skirted around the Forsworn camp, leaving a significant buffer between myself and them, before climbing up the mountainside toward the tower.
Halfway up, the Forsworn began to shout at each other, so agitated that I feared that they had somehow seen me. I positioned myself in the shadow of a large outcropping and peeked out, holding my breath.
A towering, muscular bandit had entered Forsworn territory without apology, swinging his finely-crafted warhammer at the shamen and archers and looters who dared to keep him from making his way up the stairs to the tower. His white, bleach-bone armour shimmered in the moons' light with an unearthly quality. I rubbed my eyes in amazement. Was I looking at a spectre? Or an actual man?
Whatever he was, he was my opportunity, my much-needed distraction. He would take care of the Forsworn while I searched the tower high and low for the twenty-third unusual gem. As long as the Forsworn kept coming at him, I could avoid an entanglement with him myself - there was no way I could pierce his armour with my dagger and he was large enough to easily take me down with a flick of his smallest finger.
With the last of the Forsworn down, the giant disappeared into the tower. I dropped from the outcropping and followed closely behind him, always keeping to the shadows and a good distance away from him, just as Brynjolf had taught me.
Behind him, I could study the giant more carefully. He stood two heads taller than I, with dark locks of hair streaming down his back. His shoulders swaggered as he walked boldly through the tower, his weapon readied for another attack. His armoured body smelled sweetly of blood and iron and sweat and masculinity, the combination causing my heart to quiver and my hands to shake. I feared what he would do to me even more than I feared a Forsworn Briarheart.
He climbed staircases and wandered through halls. I followed dutifully behind him, taking cover when he engaged a Forsworn and then searching the body after the giant moved on. I peeked in baskets and rummaged through chests inside rooms and hallways that he passed by, hoping to find the unusual gem. I found a few coin purses and even a diamond for my ring, but Nocturnal had not yet graced me with my prize.
Eventually, the giant pushed open a set of large doors and stepped outside. I waited only a few impatient moments before also exiting into the night.
I found myself facing a set of rickety wooden stairs which lead to another stone outcropping. The giant was engrossed in battle with a filthy hagraven. I crouched in the darkness at the top of the stairs and waited. The hagraven hurled fireball after fireball at the giant, but he dodged every single one, his body surprisingly lithe for someone so massive. I almost wanted to cheer for him.
The hagraven was finally within his weapon's range and the giant swung at her but missed. She released another series of fireballs that the giant again dodged. They hit the stone altar instead, causing some of the flower petals and snowberries on top of it to ignite. The hagraven shrieked and threw herself at the giant, scratching and biting, while he blocked her with his warhammer.
I scanned the altar for anything valuable. The plants in the bowls atop the altar had turned to ash and a few other items had fallen from the impact of the hagraven's offensive spells - a dagger, a few linen scraps, a few embalming tools, and a small trinket that sparkled in the moons' light.
The gem.
The twenty-third unusual gem!
Heedless of the danger around me, I crawled across the stone outcropping and grabbed the bright pink gem, savoring its feel just for a moment before placing it into my pouch. I positioned myself against the altar and glanced around the stone.
The hagraven laid motionless in a pool of black blood, her skull crushed in.
The giant was nowhere to be found.
I crouched there, cursing myself for losing sight of the giant and listening for heavy footsteps or creaking armour and wondering where he had gone.
I began to slip away from the altar when a strong arm caught the front of my leather breastplate and lifted me off the ground, my unsupported legs dangling. I struggled and kicked, but he held onto me too tightly.
"What are you doing here, thief?" His deep voice rumbled like thunder. He shook me with one powerful movement and my hood slipped off, revealing my face and causing sandy brown hair to tumble down my shoulders.
The giant sucked in his breath and relaxed his grip. I used the opportunity to pull out my dagger and slice the crack in his armour where the pieces met at his side. He dropped me and cried out in surprise, while I bolted for the staircase.
"Eira! Stop!" shouted the giant behind me.
Shocked that my own name had been called - shocked that this imposing giant of a man somehow knew me - I stopped. Turning around ever so slowly, I watched as he cautiously made his way to me, hands raised in supplication, that he meant me no harm.
Then, standing no more than a few steps away from me, he lifted the helmet off his head and smiled faintly.
The giant had more scars than I remembered, including a fresh cut that ran diagonally across his nose. He had tied the bulk of his dark hair at his neck, with wayward strands framing his ruggedly tanned face. Two drops of sweat slid down his temple and met his neck. His dark eyes moistened with emotion.
"Rynjus?" I whispered incredulously. My guard instantly disappeared as my heart thudded heavily against my chest. I could not bring myself to look away from his beautiful face.
"Eira," he said again, now closing the short distance between us. My name had never sounded so good on another's tongue.
Rynjus dropped his helmet and pulled me close, holding so tightly onto me that I thought he would never let go.
As we walked back toward Markarth, Rynjus explained how he had been thrown from the ship during the storm and had washed up on the beach, stumbling upon the wreckage a day or so afterward. He had seen the dead bandit and had carefully retraced footprints - my footprints - up the beach and to Windhelm, where he finally lost my trail. He had asked everyone he saw about me, but few people remembered. With my tattered clothes and strange accent, most people had probably assumed that I was a poor servant or a beggar who had somehow hitched a ride on one of the ships from Cyrodiil. In a way, they were right about both things.
Rynjus had vowed not to let me go. Convinced that I was still alive, he decided he would search the whole of Skyrim until he found me. He had nothing, really, to even suggest that I was still alive, but he had convinced himself that I was out there and trusted the Gods to reunite us.
And now, two years later, they had.
"Eira," he said, holding tightly onto my hands. His cool eyes implored: Stay with me.
By the Nines! How had I not seen it back in Cyrodiil? How had I completely missed the affection that I felt for him?
He brought one warm hand to my cheek and left it there, caressing the scar across my face with his thumb. I pressed my head against the comfort of his hand and he smiled.
"Come live with me," he said. "I have a house in Solitude."
Yes, Solitude, the thief inside me said. Markets teeming with coin purses! The palace!
"Of course!" I said, my eyes gleaming and my hands shaking with delight.
Then Rynjus bent down, meeting my excited gaze.
"Eira," he began heavily. "If you come live with me, I cannot allow you to do this anymore." He pointed to my hip purse.
"This?" I questioned.
"I am the Thane of Solitude. I have obligations and responsibilities throughout Jarl Elisif's lands. My title would be able to keep you out of trouble for some time, but not forever."
"Then I won't get caught," I responded flippantly.
"Once, the people would forgive you; twice, they might allow you your life; but eventually you'd be kneeling on a platform next to a man who has an ax in his hands." Rynjus embraced me, and I melted into his hard body, smelling the sweat and campfire and blood on his skin.
"Please, Eira, please. Listen to me this time. I had never meant to return to Skyrim. But I am here now, with you. It was fated for me to come back just as the Gods have seen it fit to bring us back together."
I considered this carefully. If the Gods really and truly did have a hand in bringing us back together, was this an indication that I shouldn't be feeding the thief inside me?
My eye caught sight of Madesi's ring.
But what about Brynjolf? And Vex? And Delvin? What about Nocturnal?
Gingerly, I stepped away from him.
"I have to think about this," I said.
"What's there to think about?" Rynjus asked. "We're here together, thank the Gods!"
"You're asking a lot of me," I said coolly. "Have you ever considered that I have a life here I might be giving up?"
Rynjus frowned and reached for me, but I quickly stepped away.
"Give me until sundown. Please."
Reluctantly, he nodded.
