Good god, this took a lot of editing and I'm still pretty sure this has little mistakes here and there. Special thank-you to the two guests who left a review. Seriously, you have no idea how much that meant. I posted this story on AO3 a while back and after 2 months, there wasn't anything so I decided to post it here.

Farkas finna get his ass whooped at the end of the chapter. The initial idea is accredited to Opalbee; go read her story, "His Brother's Keeper". I know it's over 400,000 words, but holy shit it is so well written I was perfectly content to sit and read all of it. If Opalbee is reading this, huge thank-you to you as well for the kind words a while back. I was just so moved I had no idea what to say, so I may have sounded like a moron. Keep being amazing, ma'am. Best of luck to you on your story.

After Alvor and Gerdur (finally, she knew Ralof's sister's name...) calmed down, she lead everyone to the Inn to tell about what had happened. She spared no details. She recounted how and why she'd nearly been executed, the events that lead up to finding Hadvar and everyone else, the run to the keep, the death of the commander, how she'd escaped, and briefly explained the debate she'd had with everyone about politics. By the end of her tale, everyone had cried at some point, and Gerdur had fallen back into tears, this time along with her husband Hod, and Alvor's wife, Sigrid. Flynn had been told by basically everyone that she was welcome to stay with them and given numerous expressions of gratitude in the forms of food, money, items, and just plain old words.

"You are the reason all of these people are still alive. Don't feel so embarrassed by our gratitude; without you, no one would have made it out of Helgen." Hod whispered to her as the night pressed on and people began to go home. "As I'm sure you've heard, you are welcome in my home. Don't worry about Eira or Haming, they're in good hands. I'm sure Haming will get along fine with my son, and Alvor's daughter, and we'll collectively help Eira get back on her feet. Who knows; maybe we'll all pitch in to build her a house here."

"Thank you, Hod." Flynn nodded, feeling relief in the fact that everyone would be taken care of.

"No, thank you. Whether you acknowledge it or not, you've done a mighty deed today. We'll always be grateful to you." Hod smiled, his eyes glittering with affection.

Flynn nodded. "Well, I suppose I ought to escort the amazing High King to Whiterun so he can get back to Windhelm."

"Why?" Hod frowned. "You ought to get some rest, and I'm sure Ulfric can get to Whiterun himself in the morning."

Flynn shook her head. "I really shouldn't stay. I...well, there really isn't a reason, but I suppose I should find a job and a home and all that." She shrugged.

"Hun, you can always stay with us."

"You've already got Eira staying over."

"Doesn't mean you can't too. But, what do you mean by find and job and home?"

"I mean exactly what I said. I have neither."

Hod frowned at this, and something seemed to click. "How long have you been in Skyrim?"

"Only about...1, maybe 2 days? I guess it'd have to be 3 now, I dunno. Somewhere around that. I don't think I mentioned that in my tale earlier."

"I was wondering why you were in Darkwater crossing. Still, you're welcome to work at the mill here, and we can build you a house."

"The mill is run well enough, I don't want to intrude."

"You aren't intruding!"

"I feel as though I am. Besides, I am not the most...pleasant of company. You'd tire of me quickly."

"Nonsense! Flynn, come on."

"Hod, please."

Hod sighed, knowing she wasn't going to back down. "Very well. If you ever need a place to stay, you know where to go. Still, won't you stay the night?"

"...No." Flynn awkwardly responded, feeling a little uncomfortable at all the insistence.

"Alright. I'll pack a bag for you, and send you on your way." Hod sighed, looking at her sadly with pursed lips.

"No need."

"By the Nine, woman! Let me take care of you!" Hod exasperatedly snapped, crossing his arms.

Wordlessly, Flynn opened her bag and shoved her entire arm inside.

"...Oh."

After attracting Ulfric's attention and (despite Gerdur's insistence otherwise) informing Gerdur that there'd be no need to send Sven in the morning to the Jarl because "he damn well better rouse himself out of his cushy bed for this", Ulfric and Flynn departed into the night.

"Shouldn't we say goodbye to everyone? Eira, Haming, Alfhild, Ralof, and Hadvar, that is." Ulfric asked as they crossed the cobblestone bridge.

"No, they'll insist on us staying. I've heard enough of that."

"Why are you so insistent on us leaving?"

"I'm not insistent on us leaving, persay. I just want to leave because all this praise makes me feel awkward. I'm nobody special."

"I'd think otherwise." Ulfric muttered under his breath, though Flynn still picked up on it.

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why would you think otherwise?"

"Oh, I didn't think you'd heard that."

"I see no reason why you'd say it, then." Flynn replied shortly.

Ulfric began to speak haltingly, as if he didn't quite know what to say. "I...I don't quite know what it is about you-"

"-If you don't know it's probably nothing." Flynn shrugged.

"...By the Nine, would you let me finish? As I was saying, I don't know what it is about you, sure, but there's something there that makes you stand out. I can't put my finger on it now, perhaps I never will, but you're like an itch I can't scratch. The thought of you lingers. It's almost as if...you're destined for something momentous."

Flynn huffed a laugh, which quickly turned into a full-blown one. "Me?! Destined for greatness?! Ha! As if! Ulfric, if you truly believe that, you're both naive and you have no idea who I am."

"Maybe I'm naive, but if I don't know you, who are you?" Ulfric demanded hotly.

Flynn wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of her eye. "That's just it, though. I'm nobody at all. Absolutely no one."

Ulfric stared at her for a long, long time without saying a word. "Everyone is someone." He suddenly said.

Flynn didn't really know how to respond to that. What was a witty response to something like that?

"...Except elves." Flynn prodded Ulfric, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. "Or so you'd apparently say."

Ulfric went quiet for a long time, and it wasn't until Pelagia farm came into view that he spoke once more. "I don't...think I hate elves that much anymore."

"You can't get rid of prejudiced ideas that quickly."

"I know. It's going to be a little difficult, considering what elves have done to me, but...I'm going to try. That conversation we had today was...really eye-opening. I don't think you realize just how much that deeply disturbed me."

Flynn felt her face soften. "I'm glad you're so mature about this. Many a man would splutter to try to defend themselves, too afraid to admit they were in the wrong. I can...admire that you are not like that."

"Eh, I can be." Ulfric sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"And by admitting that, you show that you have the capacity to not be."

Ulfric looked up at her at that, and stared for a long time. "There it is again." He said.

"What?"

"That feeling."

"Get to the point, idiot. What feeling?"

Ulfric chuckled, shaking his head. "The feeling that you're someone special."

Flynn rolled her eyes and stared ahead. "...Shut up."

After sending Ulfric on his way, Flynn made her way up to the Whiterun gate.

"Halt!" One of the guards yelled. "You are not a citizen here! The city's closed until this talk of dragons dies down."

Flynn narrowed her eyes at the guard exasperatedly. "You are a whole head shorter than me. What's stopping me from picking you up and throwing you out of the way?"

It wasn't visible, but Flynn could tell the guard was narrowing his eyes at her. "I have a weapon."

Her voice pure ice, Flynn pulled her sword out of its sheath on her hip. "I do too. I have news to deliver to the Jarl, specifically about this dragon. Get out of my way."

"How dare you disrespect me, a guard of this city!? Much less some minority like you?!"

"Gjukar, wait. Step down. She knows of the dragon, let her in." The female guard off to the side grabbed her fellow guard's shoulder, pulling him away from Flynn. "Regardless of whether or not she's being rude, all information goes directly to the Jarl as soon as possible."

The male guard, "Gjukar", was having none of this.

"No! No one can just get away with disrespecting city guard, much less me!" Gjukar insisted.

Flynn cast Gjukar a dead look and without a word, picked him up as if he were a ragdoll and placed him gently off to the side before opening the gate to the city herself. Closing the gate on Gjukar before he could sputter anymore, Flynn exchanged a look with a guard standing place just inside before she strolled down the cobblestone road, her cloak swishing gently behind her. Using a letter strip she'd picked up from Alvor's forge, she curled her long hair into a bun as she walked, figuring she ought to look somewhat presentable for the Jarl. Some of the black strands came loose in her fingers and she listlessly let them flutter to the ground. More guards roamed around the city and eyed her suspiciously as she walked, though the suspicion felt a little watered down, since they all had to tilt their heads up to look at her properly. In many places, such as Valenwood and Summerset Isles, everyone had been as tall as her or just a little shorter. However, everyone here was at least a whole head shorter than her. She found it amusing that the supposedly tough, terrifying Nords looked, in comparison to her, like small, angry, fair-skinned children. She felt like a giant among men. Still, all of these suspicious looks were starting to grind on her patience. She was just walking through the city; not stealing everything in sight.

As she walked up to Dragonsreach, some guards whispered among themselves about her, or had to gall to openly say something rude. By the time she'd reached the large doors of Dragonsreach, she found that she had lost a lot of the patience she'd been clinging to that day. Slamming the doors to the palace open with a terribly loud bang (and startling some old woman terribly), she swept into the hall.

"My lord. Please. You have to listen. I only counsel caution. We cannot afford to act rashly in times like these. If the news from Helgen is true... well, there's no telling what it means." A smooth yet anxious voice sounded from across the dining hall.

"What would you have me do, then? Nothing?" The Jarl (Balgruuf, was it?) demanded curtly.

At least, she was pretty sure it was the Jarl, since he was dressed the most finely. Flynn had to say though, that beard with no sleeves? The look wasn't good for him.

"My lord. Please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act. I just..." The mousy-faced man continued sheepishly before trailing off at the sight of an alarmingly tall Redguard staring down at him.

"Who's this, then?" Balgruuf inquired, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Quit narrowing your eyes, they'll get stuck like that and you'll permanently look like an idiot." Flynn snapped at the Jarl's somewhat hostile expression, feeling her patience drain even more by the second.

The dark elf woman at the Jarl's left drew her weapon and pointed it menacingly at Flynn. Batting it away from her, Flynn shot a nasty glare. It'd been a very long day; she didn't need some tiny little elf brandishing a sword in her face. She'd had more than enough of that today.

"What is it with you Skyrim folk and weapons?!" Flynn looked down at the elf with a very displeased expression, feeling her lips curl into a frown.

Ignoring her hotly-worded question, the elf demanded, "Why have you come here, much less at this hour?" The dark elf demanded.

"Hmmm, well I figured that maybe you'd like someone to inform you that a dragon destroyed Helgen, not to mention that Riverwood is in the most immediate danger since it's hardly protected and in the direct crossfire. And before you ask, no, there's no salvaging Helgen. It's been absolutely decimated." Flynn told the dark elf in a blindingly sarcastic tone.

The Jarl seemed interested in this as he visibly perked up. "Stand down, Irileth. It's alright. If she knows of Helgen, I want to hear what she has to say. Step towards me."

Resisting the urge to dramatically stomp towards him, Flynn approached the Jarl, glaring at this 'Irileth' before she begrudgingly put away her weapon. "So, what's this about Riverwood being in danger?" The Jarl asked, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

Flynn cast the Jarl a withering look. "Unless those alarmingly saggy things on either side of your head aren't what I think they are, I'm pretty sure you have ears. A dragon attacked Helgen, it subsequently laid waste to Helgen, and since Riverwood has no walls and is the closest to Helgen, it's in the most immediate danger. I'd advise sending some extra men over there before both Alvor and Gerdur start laying eggs."

The Jarl looked rather insulted by her comment on his ears, but seemed to shrug it off in favor of adopting a suspicious expression. "And you're sure Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? This wasn't some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?"

'Oh, are you fucking kidding?' Flynn felt herself stiffen, and just like that, the very last bit of her patience ebbed away.

Feeling a multitude of choice words boiling in her throat, Flynn began to scream. "Are you fucking THICK!? YES, IT WAS A GODS DAMNED DRAGON! LET ME TELL YOU, I HAD A FANTASTIC VIEW OF THIS DRAGON WHILE IMPERIALS TRIED TO CHOP OFF MY HEAD, NOT TO MENTION WHEN IT WAS KILLING EVERYONE!" She shrieked, feeling her throat quickly go raw. "MARA'S ASS! HOW IN THE NAME OF FUCK WOULD I MISTAKE A DRAGON, A DRAGON FOR A RAID!?"

The Jarl looked rather frazzled by all of her screaming and shrunk a little. Irileth slowly began to unsheathe her weapon and Flynn, in a blind rage, snatched it out of the dark elf's hand and sent it hurtling across the room, listening in satisfaction as it lodged itself in a nearby wooden pillar.

"STOP FUCKING PULLING YOUR WEAPON ON ME!" She angrily thrust a finger into Irileth's stunned face, before whipping around to glare at a mage who was standing a safe distance away. "AND YOU! STOP STARING AT ME, I'M NOT CRAZY! ANYONE WOULD SNAP LIKE THIS IF THEY WERE ONE OUT OF SEVEN PEOPLE TO GET OUT OF HELGEN ALIVE AND HAVE SOME FOOL ASK IF YOU'D MISTAKEN THIS DRAGON FOR A STORMCLOAK RAID!" Flynn finished her hysterical rant and huffed for breath, backing up and slumping against the table behind her.

"I'm...afraid I misunderstood. I'd thought you'd gone to scope out Helgen after the chaos was over." The Jarl began in a nervous voice, eyeing Flynn warily. "...You said that you are one out of the seven people who made it out?"

Suddenly feeling very drained, Flynn didn't bother to straighten herself as she said, "Yes. And if it weren't for me, those other 6 people would be dead."

The Jarl looked both intrigued and horrified. "How so?"

"I was mistaken for a Stormcloak in Darkwater Crossing, and was subsequently nearly sent to my death despite my innocence. The dragon appeared just as I was about to be executed. In the confusion, one of the rebels, Ralof, ended up free of his binds and helped me too. I led him into a tower and amassed a short group composed of me, him, Ulfric Stormcloak, and a woman named Alfhild. I led them out of the tower we were holed up in and encountered a man named Hadvar, a woman named Eira, and a child named Haming. There were initially more people with me, but out of everyone, the people I named are the only ones who survived with me. Since I wasn't affiliated with any side of the war, nor was I was 7 year old child, I took leadership and got everyone to cooperate. I'm the one who led them all to safety. All the survivors are in Riverwood at the moment, except for Ulfric, who I just sent back to Windhelm. A Jarl should be there for his Hold." Flynn recounted. "No one else has emerged from Helgen alive, so it's safe to assume that we're the only ones who made it out. How many people lived in Helgen before the attack?"

"It was one of our biggest holds. Forty-eight people, I believe." The Jarl's steward recounted. "You're sure your group's the only people who made it out?"

"I'm sure. No one else has come to Riverwood, save for a soldier who alerted one of Riverwood's inhabitants of what had happened before dying of his injuries, or so I've been told."

The Jarl looked ghostly pale. "By the Eight. This is worse than I've thought."

"No shit, genius." Flynn spat. "So, do excuse me for screaming at you when you asked if it might've been a gods damned raid."

"What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?" Balgruuf turned to his steward.

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

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him." Proventus argued.

Flynn was really starting to not like this Proventus guy.

"Enough! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl."

"We should not-!" Proventus weakly tried to argue, but Balgruuf stopped him.

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

At this, Proventus seemed to give up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties."

"That would be best." Balgruuf said shortly, before returning his attention back to Flynn. "Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. I'll have Eorlund provide you with some nice armor in the morning as a thank you." The Jarl paused for a moment, before continuing. "There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. In the morning, you and I can talk to my court mage, Farengar. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons. In the meantime, I'll have one of my maids draw you a bath, prepare a bed, and find some nicer clothing for you. Some food, if you are hungry. You've more than earned all of that."

"Thanks."

"However, you'd do well not to comment on my ears again." The Jarl lightly joked before rising from his seat. "Follow me."

"Fine, I'll settle for ripping your fashion sense into shreds. That beard? No sleeves? Neither of those are working for you."

The Jarl cast her a withering glance and shook his crowned head.

That evening, a warm bath and bed never felt so good in her life.

Flynn woke up early that following morning in a cold sweat with a scream stuck in her throat. She'd had a dream about Helgen, which was no surprise, but it had ended with her actually dying. Wiping the sweat off her face, she shakily sat up and chugged the pitcher of water one of the kindly maids had left behind for her. Sighing and flopping back down onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling for what felt like half an hour before she willed herself to leave the safety of her bed. She made herself useful and fixed the bed until it looked like it had before she slept in it, and quickly stripped out of her nightclothes the Jarl had provided for her. Taking care to fold her nightclothes into a neat pile for the maids, she changed into her own clothing that the maids had washed and sewed back into their former glory, and after donning her cloak, she quietly went down the stairs into the main hall. Gods, those maids were nice; she'd give them some money as a "thank you". People really seemed to like money. Upon seeing her coming downstairs, one of the maids, Anette, immediately began to fret.

"Oh, you poor dear! Why are you up so early? You ought to still be in bed after a day like that!" Anette gently grabbed her shoulder and tried to guide her back upstairs.

Grasping Anette's wrinkled hand, Flynn held it to the side and shook her head. "I'm alright, I think I've slept enough. Do you and the rest of you guys need help in the kitchens? I can cook pretty well."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to do that. Come, sit down and I'll warm some mead for you, unless you'd prefer tea?" Jytte crooned, tugging Flynn towards the large dining table.

"Tea would be preferred, but please, I insist. You all have been kind; the least I can do is help you as well."

Jytte went to protest, but Gerda cut her off. "Quit it. If she wants to help, let her. Good to see that someone is actually grateful for everything we do around here!" Gerda snapped, brushing flour off her hands with a damp rag.

"Gerda, please. She had such a horrible day yesterday, she ought to still be in bed." Fianna argued, sending Flynn a stern, pointed look as she eyed Flynn's somewhat haggard expression.

"I'm glad you're all concerned, but I should make myself useful. Gerda, can you show me how to make boiled creme tarts? I noticed that Balgruuf's little brat-I mean, child, seems to like them." Flynn asked, remembering seeing Dagny eating one before making a rather rude remark.

All of the servants shared a private laugh at Flynn's slip-up, silently agreeing that Balgruuf's children were little shits.

"If you'd really want to help us in the kitchens, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, but when you're done, you'd better sit down and eat something!" Fianna said sharply, looking Flynn up and down. "You look like you could use something in your belly. Anette, prepare her some tea while me and Gerda show her how to make boiled creme tarts."

Until the first fingers of dawn began to weave their way into the sky, Flynn helped Anette, Gerda, Fianna, and Jytte prepare breakfast. Gerda complained about her sloppiness frequently, but Jytte made sure to let Flynn know that she was doing perfectly, and Gerda was only pissed off because Flynn was doing it better than she could. Balancing two plates in either hand, Flynn set down the dishes just in time for the Jarl to sleepily shuffle downstairs. The Jarl looked confused to see her already awake and at work, and shook his head before turning his attention to his maids.

"You lot know she's our special guest. Why is she acting as a servant?" He asked, an underlying dangerous note in his tone that Flynn immediately picked up on.

Setting a pitcher of wine in front of the Jarl, she unceremoniously smacked him upside the head, making Anette gasp. "It's a little early to get your panties in a twist. Shut up. I woke up early, and I insisted on helping, since, y'know, I'm not an ungrateful little shit. Leave your maids alone, and eat your breakfast." She snapped, not happy that he was fixing to be rude to his servants after they'd been so nice to her.

The Jarl stared up at her with a bewildered expression, as if he was entirely shocked that someone had the gall to be so rude to him. Flynn rolled her eyes and strolled down the table and sat down. Fianna smiled at her in silent satisfaction as she began to fix a plate for Flynn. Jytte looked between Flynn and the Jarl and quickly excused herself to the kitchen, where Flynn could faintly hear her laughing. Locking eyes with the still-stunned Jarl, Flynn tilted her head towards the food she and the maids had worked so hard to make as telling him to wipe the look off his face and start eating. Narrowing his eyes a little, the Jarl looked away and stuffed a sweet roll into his mouth. Breakfast was mainly a silent affair, and she'd long since finished eating before the Jarl's children began sleepily stumbling into the hall. She already knew who Dagny was, but wasn't sure which ones Nelkir and Frothar were. She guessed it was safe to assume that Frothar was the taller boy. Nelkir sleepily looked up at her and seemed surprised to see her there. Suddenly, what could only be described as a conceited smirk glimmered on Nelkir's tiny mouth and he sneered,

"Oh, look. Another adventurer, here to lick my father's boots. Good job."

It was very difficult to swallow the profound urge to beat Balgruuf's child with her cup. Breakfast came and went, and the Jarl escorted her to Eorlund Gray-Mane, who Flynn was actually pretty excited to meet. Tales of his beautiful steel had reached as far as Valenwood. As they walked down the stone steps towards what the Jarl called Jorrvaskr, he scolded her briefly.

"I've been patient with you, as you faced many terrors just yesterday, but why do you insist on humiliating me in front of my court?" He asked as the approached what looked like a gigantic, dying tree.

"I'm not known for being polite." Flynn responded simply. "I'm just...selectively nice. I am generally courteous to those I like, and you are not one of those people."

The Jarl seemed offended by this and asked, "And why would that be?"

"I hate to break this to you, but you aren't exactly the most polite either, and I don't appreciate how rude you are to your servants. In different ways, they work just as hard as you. And don't get me started on your conceited brats of children. I don't condone beating your children, not in the slightest, but damn...it was really hard not to slap your child with my cup this morning. I'm not a parent, so I don't really have any place to say anything, but let me tell you; since most children I meet aren't dicks, I'd say your parenting needs some refinement."

One of the guards they passed found it very difficult to not laugh out loud at her words. The Jarl went very red in the face and began to splutter as he opened and closed his mouth as if he were a fish. Finally, he seemed to deflate and looked almost shameful. Huh, she wasn't expecting that.

"You really know how to hit someone where it hurts, don't you?" The Jarl sighed deeply, a haggard expression overcoming his normally prideful one. "I don't appreciate your words to me, but you have a point. I am by no means a perfect man, much less a father. I admit that much. I can either be a Jarl, or corral my children; I cannot possibly do both."

Seeing the Jarl's suddenly exhausted expression, Flynn felt a little bad for ripping into him, but then again, his kids were dicks, so she didn't feel that bad. Finally, the Jarl and Flynn made it past Jorrvaskr, and climbed the steps to the Skyforge. Despite herself, Flynn began to tremor a little in excitement, feeling her childish sense of wonder come back to slap her in the face with vigor. She was at the gods damned Skyforge! Oh, if only her asshole of a cousin could see her now. 'Fuck you, Nazir!' Flynn thought to herself. 'Look at me, I'm meeting Eorlund Gray-Mane himself! Oh, if I hadn't estranged myself from our family, you could bet your ass I'd be rubbing this in your face right now!'. There was a bear of a man tending to the Skyforge as they reached the top of the steps, clad in some skimpy, entirely nonfunctional but sexy leather armor that showed off his gorgeous muscles. His flowing, white hair tumbled down his back in a glamorous pony tail and she watched in pure awe as he stretched to his full height. His toned abs rippled as he straightened, and she felt like she'd been lit on fire the second he turned his rugged, chiseled face towards her.

Holy shit he was gorgeous...and like, thirty years older than her but still gorgeous!

Eorlund raised his eyebrows at the sight of the Jarl himself and some Redguard lady who was staring at him with a...probably very stupid expression. Correcting her face, Flynn righted her posture and stood straight.

"Eorlund, I'm sure you got my note?" The Jarl called, striding towards the master smith.

"I'm afraid not, actually." Eorlund admitted, scratching his nose. "That must've been your note my wife gave me this morning before tending to her stall; my son spilled tea over it."

"I see. It's of no matter; my explanation for my presence here is simple."

"And that explanation would be?"

"This woman here," The Jarl gestured towards Flynn, "is one of the sole survivors of Helgen. It's because of her that 6 more people made it out of there alive. She sought me out on her own accord, and for that, I'd like you to fit her with some of your finest armor." The Jarl briefly explained.

"By the Gods, the news from Helgen was true?"

"I'm afraid so. She made a point of expressing this to me...rather loudly."

Eorlund looked up at Flynn, eyeing her up and down. "So, this string-bean managed to fend off a dragon, and lead six people out of Helgen?"

Flynn narrowed her eyes and looked down at Eorlund in slight defense. "Hey, I might look as thin as a tree branch, but Ulfric Stormcloak himself can attest that I literally beat a woman to death with my hands alone."

Eorlund began to laugh out loud, but soon tapered off as he caught sight of her dead serious expression. "Ysgramor's beard...you aren't serious, are you?" He asked cautiously.

Flynn's expression didn't change as she affirmed with, "She disarmed me. I was wearing gauntlets. What choice did I have?"

Eorlund had the decency to look rather embarrassed, while the Jarl looked pretty horrified. Rubbing the back of his neck, Eorlund said, "Well, so long as you don't pummel me until I die, let's fit you into some nice armor. I'm thinking...well, since you could literally beat someone to death, you're probably pretty strong. How does Steel Plate sound?"

"Sounds perfect. Get her measurements, and while you make her armor, she and I will talk to my court mage. You'll be paid well for this." The Jarl nodded at Flynn. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be paying a visit to Kodlak. Flynn, try not to insult him as you've done to me."

"No promises, saggy ears." Flynn rolled her eyes, before returning her attention to Eorlund. "So uh...should I just stand here like an idiot while you measure me, or do I need to do something?"

Eorlund chuckled at her, and his chuckling quickly turned in full-blown laughter.

"What?" She asked self-consciously, afraid she'd said something wrong.

"Did you call the Jarl himself 'saggy ears'?"

"Maybe." Flynn said shortly, shuffling a little. "I don't like him much. His kids are dicks, too."

Eorlund laughed harder and clapped her on the shoulder. "Ay, that they are. You're right. And to be honest, I'm not fond of him either. I think he's cowardly. Still, saggy ears? I like you already, lass." The big grin on Eorlund's face helped Flynn relax, even though she was still kind of focused on not outwardly showing that she was screaming on the inside.

EORLUND! GRAY! MANE! WAS! TOUCHING! HER!

Shaking his head, Eorlund dug a small, crudely made measuring strip out of a nice chest and took her measurements, instructing her to move her body in one way or another every now and then. When it was all said in done, he sent her back up to Dragonsreach with a new sword (Dwarven, he called it) and a promise of her armor being ready by the afternoon. Instead of going back up to Dragonsreach, Flynn opted to wander around Whiterun and looked around. She found herself all of a sudden brawling with two people in the Inn (Uthgerd and Mikael, both for separate reasons), buying a Mammoth Tusk from Belethor (and yelling at him for trying to stiff her on some things she was selling, knowing he was giving her less than they were worth), subsequently giving the Mammoth Tusk to an overjoyed Ysolda, returning to Carlotta with news of her victory against Mikael, yelling at Heimskr to shut the fuck up (shortly followed by Nazeem), helping Adrianne in her forge, investing in Adrianne's shop, and spending some time with Arcadia, who taught her how to make some good stamina, healing, and magic replenishing potions. By the time she returned to Eorlund's forge, she had a lot more money on her, 5 new friends (she really liked Carlotta and Ysolda), and a lot of new knowledge in regards to smithing and alchemy.

Eorlund laughed when she told him about everything she'd done today, especially when she told him about how she'd beaten the crap out of Mikael and yelled at Belethor. "You really are something else, aren't you, lass?"

"Ulfric told me that before I sent him back to Windhelm. What is it about me that makes people say that?"

"I'm not sure," Eorlund frowned. "I just get a feeling from you."

Flynn groaned loudly. "That's what Ulfric said too!"

Eorlund laughed heartily at that, and squeezed her shoulder. "Maybe you'll figure it out someday. For now, put on that armor and we'll see if I need to make any adjustments."

After trying on the armor and finding that it fit perfectly (even though it was hella heavy), Eorlund sent her back to Dragonsreach, where she walked directly to the court mage.

"The Jarl said you had a project you needed help with." She called out to Farengar, who jumped when she suddenly spoke.

"Hmm? What? Project? You think you could help me? I really don't think so." Farengar eyed her up and down.

Quirking a brow at his dubious and somewhat haughty expression, she said dully, "Look out - you're about to step in your own Shock Rune."

"What? I never even cast... ah, I see. You have some knowledge of the Higher Art. Please forgive my earlier rudeness. I am so often interrupted by visitors wandering in, I can occasionally become quite savage. Now... what did you say you wanted?" Farengar asked, seemingly bashful about his previous rudeness.

"The Jarl said you had a project you needed help with." Flynn reiterated, shifting her weight to one leg.

"Ah, indeed? The Jarl... Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Here he is now."

Flynn turned to see the Jarl stride into the room, stepping away from a ball of Magelight. "I saw you come in. I trust that armor fits you well?"

"Yes," Flynn nodded in assent. "that's not what I'm here to talk about."

"Ah, yes. Farengar, behave yourself. This is the woman I was telling you about last night. She was there when that dragon attacked Helgen, and she's willing to help you with your...project." The Jarl inclined his head towards Flynn.

Farengar turned to face her fully, definitely intrigued. "So, you're the one who faced the dragon. The Jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Flynn resisted the urge to sigh loudly. "Fantastic. So, what does this have to do with dragons?"

"Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker - perhaps even a scholar? You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?" Farengar began to ramble, but Flynn cut him off.

"Get on with it. What do you need me to do?"

"To the point. I like that. Well, I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from? I ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a "Dragonstone," said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself. And do hurry; the Jarl is not known to be a patient man."

"I'm not patient either. I'll be back whenever, assuming this doesn't kill me."

"Speaking of which, I have some spare spell tomes that you might like, assuming you have knowledge of some magic. I know you know a little about Destruction, judging by your earlier comment. Would you like to see them?"

"...How did you get spell tomes out of me bitching about whether or not this could kill me?"

"Well, these spells can keep you from not dying."

"Good enough for me. Let's see them."

Pulling out a wooden crate from beneath his desk, Farengar blew a copious amount of dust from the tomes. Flynn gingerly picked one of the tomes up. "Flame cloak", it read.

"Oh, so this can teach me how to set myself on fire properly. Awesome." Flynn drawled sarcastically. "Hm, if I do this wrong, do you think this could kill me?"

Farengar nodded in assent.

Staring him dead in the eyes, Flynn picked up the book crate and began to walk backwards. "...I'll take all of these."

Farengar's laughter followed behind her as she walked outside of his space. Dumping the spell tomes in her bag, she retrieved her items from her room and said goodbye to Jytte, Anette, Fianna, and Gerda, making sure to give them 150 septims each. They were very flustered about the money they received and insisted she take it back, but Flynn simply waved them off. She helped them clean a little before she departed from Dragonsreach, closing the large doors behind her. Waving to Eorlund, who smiled as he caught sight of her, she made her way out of the city and began the long trek to Bleak Falls Barrow. The sweet scent of dried tundra grass and mountain flowers floated gently in the air as she crunched through the crumbly bushes and dried grass. The happy gurgling of the stream accompanied her walk back towards Riverwood as mudcrabs chittered a safe distance away. The breeze felt nice against her face and she tugged her cloak around her armor more, feeling safe within it. As she trekked along, she caught sight of an alarmingly large figure lumbering towards Pelagia farm. Frowning, she turned a little more in that direction to see that it was a giant. What the fuck was a giant doing at Pelagia farm? Squinting, she saw three silhouettes, two feminine and one masculine, darting towards the lumbering creature. She watched in shock as one of the women leapt forward and slashed at the giant's calves.

Before she even realized she was moving her feet, Flynn began to jog as fast as she could towards the people to help them in case they couldn't take care of the creature themselves. She was wearing armor; she'd probably be fine. She pulled her Elven and Dwarven swords out of her bag and held them tightly in both hands, coming upon the farm just as the giant would've gotten a lucky blow on the man. The man whirled around just in time to see Flynn cross her blade in an X below the lumbering giant's club. The force of the giant's swing made her knees buckle and her feet slide in the dirt. Somehow, she managed to not fall on her ass. 'Oh, there goes my shoulder,' Flynn thought, feeling her left shoulder dislocate. Her footwork on point (as usual), she let her left leg collapsed and swept to the side, bringing her Elven sword down in a graceful arc against the giant's leg. The beast let out an ungodly roar and swiped at her. She dodged just in time to feel a blast of air fly over her head, making some black strands flutter. Twirling, she slashed at the giant's leg once more, bringing it to it's knees. Finally lowered enough for her to reach, Flynn thrust her blade upwards through the giant's nostril, killing it instantly. It's body trembled and swayed before it crashed to the earth with an unceremonious dull thump.

"That was...fucking amazing." The man said breathlessly, staring at Flynn with a mixture of fear and awe on his face.

"I think you mean incredibly reckless." The stern voice of a woman sounded from Flynn's left, and she turned to see a red-headed woman narrowing her eyes at her. "Impressive, but reckless. Not just anyone could withstand the blow of a giant's club. You could've been crushed. Still, with strength like that, I'm sure you could make a fine addition to the Companions."

"The Companions?" Flynn repeated, quirking a brow. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your...club."

The woman seemed a little miffed at the use of the word 'club', but overall looked surprised. "Huh. That's a first. An outsider, are you?"

"Yes. I've only been in Skyrim for about 4 days." Flynn nodded, popping her left shoulder back into place without making a face.

The man whistled as she did so. The other woman winced.

"Huh. Well, welcome to the land. I'm sure that giant was a wonderful welcoming gift." The woman joked.

"No, I think the dragon that tried to murder me in Helgen was much better." Flynn joked in response, watching in slight glee as a shocked look appeared on the woman's face.

"Ysgramor's beard, you're that woman Eorlund was telling me about! You're a Redguard; I should've guessed!" Aela seemed pleasantly shocked, a grin stretching across her face. "I didn't believe him when he said you'd supposedly beat someone to death with your hands alone, but after that...well. It's nice to meet you. My name is Aela, and you are?"

Opting to ignore Aela's question about her name, Flynn said, "I'm glad that the first thing people are hearing about me is how I beat a woman to death. Good first impression."

Aela barked a laugh at that, and gestured back to your friends. "The girl is Ria, a newbie, and that blockhead who's ass you saved is Farkas."

"She didn't save my ass, Aela." The man complained, blushing slightly.

"That giant's club would've sent you careening in the air all the way through Balgruuf's ceiling! Show some gratitude!" Ria scolded her taller friend, thumping him on the back.

Farkas rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and muttered, "Sorry, little sister. Thank you for not letting that giant send me crashing into the Jarl's lunch, miss."

"No problem. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should be on my way."

"Wait, are you going to join the Companion's?" Ria asked.

Flynn shook her head. "I've had enough drama in my life lately. Asshole dragons have kind of weaned me from glorious battles for awhile. Perhaps another time. Goodbye."

"Fair enough. See you around." Aela said, and at that, Flynn turned and continued her walk to Bleak Falls Barrow.

Farengar was going to fucking get it.

It had been 6 days since Helgen, and Flynn was more than a little pissed off. She'd become even more of a celebrity in Riverwood due to her miraculously finding Lucan's golden claw in Bleak Falls Barrow which had been, oh, INFESTED WITH DRAUGR AND BANDITS! She also had her mind raped a little by some weird words on some stone wall, but since nothing had really happened, she wasn't going to dwell on it. Farengar was very, very lucky that the Dragonstone was actually in Bleak Falls Barrow. Regardless, it was still going to get shoved up Farengar's ass the second she returned to Dragonsreach. After returning to Riverwood after spending three gods damned days systematically clearing out the Barrow, she'd partied with Riverwood's citizens all night (after she'd taken a bath, of course) and hung out with Ralof, Hadvar, Alfhild, and Eira. Now, she was returning to Whiterun to go yell some choice words at Farengar...very late at night.

Second thought, both as an act of mercy to Farengar's ears and a huge "FUCK YOU!" to Farengar in general, Flynn was going to set up camp directly outside of the city. Just because.

Sighing, Flynn walked around the tundra outside of Whiterun, trying to find a nice little alcove to nestle under and set up camp. It took about a half hour, but she found a nice little rocky outcrop that sheltered her from the wind and was near to both the city and a gurgling stream. Pulling out a makeshift tent and a bedroll, Flynn set up her bedroll and set out a bucket to fill with water for later. Strolling through the tundra, Flynn found some nice logs and brought them back to her camp. She rolled some sizable stones out of the river and made a circle before throwing some wood inside of it. She called forth some fire to her hand, and within seconds she had a happily flickering campfire. Relaxing for awhile, Flynn read some more of her spell tomes she'd gotten from Farengar, thumbing through the pages. She practiced a little while and managed to succeed in mastering a Frost and Fire cloak spell, though she couldn't quite get the Lightning one down. Soon, she grew tired of reading about magic and went to walk around through the tundra, reveling in the cool breeze and shuffling grasses.

After about twenty minutes of water, the twang of a bowstring made Flynn pause. Peering around in the inky darkness, Flynn tried to find the source (mostly to see if they were shooting at her) and caught sight of 5 silhouettes of what looked like bandits, judging by the fur armor they appeared to be wearing. The distinct yelp of animalistic pain startled her, and Flynn looked around to see the stumbling outline of what was probably a large sabre cat trying to run away. If the bandits were trying to kill the poor thing for food, they were picking the wrong animal; sabre cats had more fur than meat. Another twang, and Flynn winced as an arrow got stuck into the creature's hind leg. It fell to the ground after letting out a terrible cry, and moved no longer.

"Where'd the mutt go?!" One of the bandits cried, peering around in the darkness.

"He's around here somewhere. We got a good shot in, and I saw him fall. Try to listen, the dogs are heavy breathers."

What? Dog? Were they trying to kill some dog? One of the people turned and saw her standing a distance away.

"Hey, look!" The person nudged his buddies, and they all looked to her.

"...Hello...?" Flynn called out to them, unsure whether or not they were going to attack her.

The answer she got was one of them screaming, "GET HER!" and the stretching of a bowstring. Ducking down to let an arrow go careening over her head, Flynn jetted forward, pulling out her Elven and Dwarven swords as she ran towards them. They all looked pretty scrawny, so it was sure to be an easy fight. She had her cloak to fall back on anyway. All of a sudden, the sabre cat from before roared to it's feet and swiped it's long claw across one of the bandit's abdomen, spilling his guts to the earth. His buddies backed away, weapons glinting in the light of the two moons. The remaining four bandits turned their attention away from her in favor of circling around the creature. Flynn watched in awe as the- as the not sabre cat knocked the weapon away from it as one bandit tried to slash at it's neck. Another ran in and cut across the back of it's right leg, and the not-sabre cat went wild, lashing out all around it. Suddenly snapping back into focus, Flynn backed away and hid behind a nearby rock, watching the creature fight. No one seemed to pay any attention to her, instead focused on the on-going battle. After a minute it became clear that the creature was too weak to continue fighting as it fell to it's knees, flopping pathetically to the ground. With a zealous grin, the bandit leaned forward as the creature laid there, waiting for the killing blow. One bandit had fallen by the creature's blows; three bandits remained. The poor thing couldn't do more than growl weakly as a booted foot nudged the creature's head.

"What d'you think? Finish it off, or take it back to Krev?"

"How would we get this freak back? He's too big." There was a low whistle of amazement.

"Might be one of the twins. Or it's that war veteran."

"Doesn't matter which one he is. Just take his head off for a trophy. Krev'll be happy with just that."

"Wish we could figure out how they're getting in and out of the city."

"We'll have to keep a closer eye on those idiots."

What? What were these bandits talking about? The bandits began to talk about her.

"Where d'ya think that woman ran off to?"

"Probably to go alert the guards. We should finish here quickly, just in case."

"Shouldn't we find her and kill her?"

"Nah, not worth the hassle. It's dark anyway; she probably didn't get a proper look at us."

The bandit suddenly stepped directly on the creature's wound, making the poor thing scream, then whimper pathetically. Flynn felt her heart ache, and was horrified. That...er, thing was a creature, and there they were, making it go through Oblivion before killing it! How dare they make this creature suffer like that!? She was by no means an animal lover, but gods...the way that thing was crying was horrible. Flynn considered her options for a moment, before deciding 'fuck it'. They were bandits anyway. Just because they were being dicks, she was going to-

"That's enough chit-chat. Come on, let's just finish up here—"

Farkas squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow. Couldn't these assholes just kill him already? Everything hurt, and all the talking was hurting his brain. They finally decided they'd put him out of his misery, and he heard a blade slice through the air. Instead of feeling blinding pain explode across him, he heard a gurgle and the scraping sound of steel on steel, followed by screaming from the other Silver Hands. He lifted his head, blinking blood out of his eyes. He couldn't lift his head that much, but it was enough to see the baffling sight of some woman clad in steel plated armor whirling through the hunters, cutting them down effortlessly one by one with two swords, one Elven and one Dwarven. Her long braid swayed behind her as she danced around her enemies, swishing hypnotically as she fought. Getting the feeling that she was a little preoccupied with the Silver Hand, he laid his head back down, too weak and tired to bother with keeping it up anymore. The night grew silent, and he heard a faint groan nearby that was quickly cut off by the quiet swoosh of a weapon flying in the air. Light footsteps crunched in the tall grass, halting just out of his reach. He heard the distinct creak of bending leather as the woman took a knee beside him. He growled in a pathetic attempt to make her back off, but he was surprised to feel a gentle hand touch his head, stroking his ear.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Farkas stayed still, breathing unevenly, unable to help a whine of pain from escaping.

"It's alright, you...gigantic dog...thing." The voice soothed kind of awkwardly. "I can heal you, but I'm gonna take out this arrow first. Can't have it still lodged in your body. Please don't bite me or uh...rip my face off."

Farkas managed a nod, which seemed to greatly surprise the woman. "Oh! Oh, Mara's left tit, can you understand me!?" The woman asked, sounding completely baffled.

Of course he understood. The Circle weren't ordinary werewolves. He felt the tentative touch of a calloused hand stroke the fur on his cheek. He looked up at her and nodded again. Huh. She was a Redguard.

"Wow, I-I uh...okay. That's...new. Alright, uh...easy now, big guy...girl, whatever you are. I'm going to take care of you." The strange babbled with a note of hysteria in her tone, pushing a hand through her long, black hair.

If Farkas had enough energy, he might've laughed.

The woman removed her hand from her hair and he heard the hiss of a sucked in breath. "They really fucked you up, didn't they?" Farkas whined in assent. "All right, brace yourself, this isn't going to feel all that delightful."

Farkas keened as the arrow in his hind leg was quite unceremoniously ripped out. That alone reignited a new sense of agony in him and he howled loudly to voice his immense discomfort. Before he fully realized what was happened, he began to change back into his normal self before he could stop it, his body contorting and rippling. The change back was never pleasant, but fuck, this was worse than usual. By the time the change was over, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks. He was too weak to even move anymore. He was so tired and all he wanted to do was lie there, naked, vulnerable, in the blood-stained grass and go to sleep.

"Whoa, I-Farkas?!"

Farkas furrowed his brows. "H-How do you know my name?" The weakness in his tone was shocking, but expected.

"I, uh...holy shit you can turn into a huge dog. Awesome." Farkas looked tiredly up at the woman who, in the moonlight, was starting to look vaguely familiar. He was so tired. "I...Oh, don't you dare. Come on, Farkas. You've got to stay awake. Work with me."

"Too tired," he whispered.

The woman put a hand on his back and began to rub little circles, applying enough pressure to both soothe him and keep him awake. Her other hand dug around in her bag, which was making some out of place clinking noises, before she pulled a red-tinted bottle out of her bag. Trying to turn him over as gently as possible, she laid Farkas on his back and propped him up against her chest, using her left shoulder to support his head. The woman uncorked the bottle and held it to his lips. He barely had the energy to open his mouth. She tilted the contents into his mouth, and he tasted the sickly sweetness of a healing potion assault his taste buds. Some of the potion dribbled down his chin, which the woman wiped away with the knuckles on her already occupied right hand. Craning her left arm, she massaged his throat, coaxing him to swallow.

"There you go, honey. You have to drink this if you want to feel better." The woman soothed, tilting more of the potion into his mouth.

The more he drank, the more the pain ebbed away inch by inch. He felt his injuries close, until they no longer marred his skin. He still felt tired. He felt gross. He was covered in blood, dirt, sweat, and Ysgramor knew what else.

"Good job, honey. Better?"

"Better."

"Do you think you can stand yourself, or should I carry you? Either way is okay, I'm pretty strong...I think." The woman asked, rubbing his back.

Farkas didn't even bother trying; he knew there was no way he could walk. Instead of responding, he let out a loud groan and hid his face in the woman's neck. Now that the danger was pretty much passed, he felt both mortified and terrified. He'd almost died. If it wasn't for this woman, he'd be dead right now. Vilkas would've left the city in search of him, just to find his mangled, headless corpse in the grass. And now, he was naked, tired, and disgusting, right in the arms of this nice lady. A tear trickled down his cheek, followed by another, and another. He couldn't stop it. Humming sadly, he felt the woman's soft hands slide under him and start pulling upward. The woman was surprisingly strong. She picked him up as if he were a bride and rocked gently, trying to calm him down. He wrapped his arms around her neck like a child.

"You smell like a wet dog," The woman laughed quietly.

Farkas grunted, knowing that all too well. "Shhh, it's okay. If you keep crying, I'm going to start crying, and then where are we gonna be?"

Farkas huffed a laugh through his tears as she began to walk.

"There's a nice, deep stream near here. I set up camp nearby it. My camp's just outside of the city out of spite for Farengar, actually."

"Why the Court Mage?" He croaked, licking his lips.

The woman seemed a little ticked as she recounted how Farengar had nearly sent her to her death in search of some stupid rock tablet. "I figured that after that, I'd make him wait until morning for the thing I got him. You can stay with me at my camp for the night, and I'll send you home in the morning. For now, let's get you cleaned up. You're covered in blood and dirt and it's gross."

Farkas didn't ask any of the dozen questions he had for the woman, too tired to form the words. The sound of rushing water met his ears after about 3 minutes of silence. The woman didn't bother with stripping, which confused him, but he didn't really question it as she sank into the chilly water, setting him on her lap. She called forth some fire magic, which startled him terribly, and warmed the water around them. She chuckled at his bewildered face and began to gently wipe the blood and grossness off of him. Leaning backwards, he just let the nice lady wash him. He nearly moaned when she began to card her wet, warm hands through his hair, and he leaned heavily to her touch as she cleaned his hair. He ignored the rumbles of suppressed laughter resonating in her chest, opting to instead study his savior's face. She had a rather long nose, really long black hair, thick lips, and...silver eyes? Was she a werewolf too? No, no, he'd be able to smell it. Huh. Silver eyes weren't common, especially in Redguards. She looked strict, but pretty nice. She was pretty in general, actually. All too soon, she rose from the water, and startled him back into awareness by lighting both of them on fire.

"It's okay," She soothed, "Farengar taught me this, indirectly, of course. It's not going to burn you; it'll just dry you off. It only hurts who I want it to hurt." She explained, noticing his wide-eyes. "Just a simple flame-cloak spell."

"Oh..." He didn't really know how to respond to that.

"Alright, you don't happen to have any clothes nearby, do you? I mean, I've got some loincloths and some clothes on me from Helgen, but I dunno if they'll fit you or not."

"Helgen?"

The woman balked a little. "I-uh...long story short, I was there when that happened. I looted a chest and there was a lot of nice stuff in there, including some clothes. I was probably going to give it all to Fralia Gray-Mane or Belethor to sell later." She shrugged.

Her eyes raked over his naked form (which made him squirm), and after a moment she dug around in her bag and pulled out a loin cloth, some long, brown pants, and a tan, loose shirt. Helping him sit up, she aided him in clothing himself, and picked him up once more. Sufficiently drained, Farkas leaned his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. The kind stranger's camp came into sight after what seemed like an eternity…a small fire and squashy bedroll under a rock overhang, Dragonsreach looming overhead. The stranger laid him down on the bedroll and began to undress from her green dress, and pulled on what looked like a shirt that miner's typically wore, and a long, blue skirt. She took off her boots and laid next to him. Farkas looked over at her and thought for a second. His pride be damned, Farkas rolled over into her arms. Sighing, the woman patted him on the head and pulled the top of the bedroll over them both. Farkas heaved a long sigh and relaxed into her arms, closing his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, glad he could finally sleep.

"Mhm. Thanks for not dying."

Farkas fell asleep before he had the wit to respond. Next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes again. He rubbed his eyes and squinted up at the rock ceiling overhead. He stared at it in confusion, so weak and tired he could barely open his eyes. He could tell it was still night, since there wasn't a lot of light. He could feel and hear a fire crackling merrily next to him, but he felt a shiver run down his back. Why was he so cold? He heard ruffling of fabric and turned his head, causing a wave of dizziness to assault him. He turned onto his side with a groan and squeezed his eyes shut, his head spinning.

"You need to eat something, Farkas." A smooth, feminine yet deep voice sounded from where he'd heard the fabric rustle.

Who was laying next to him? Why did he feel so bad?

"Can't," Farkas whispered.

He shivered, feeling terribly cold even though he knew he shouldn't be cold. He could feel the warmth of the fire and the fur lining of the bedroll but it still wasn't enough.

"You lost a lot of blood, and I can't exactly fix that. While you were asleep, I killed a rabbit and made you some stew." Farkas felt the woman sidle closer to him and put a hand to his forehead. "You're cold." She hummed, concern bleeding into her voice. "We need to get some food in you before you conk out again. If that isn't enough, I'll need to get you back to your mead hall place where Eorlund works, and into a real bed."

"Who are you?" The idea that this lady knew his name and where he was from was suddenly terrifying.

"Just a wanderer. I helped you out earlier, remember?"

Farkas opened his eyes and looked at the woman. Silver eyes. Black, long hair, braid. Big lips, longish nose. Redguard. He recognized her as the earlier events came hurtling back to him. The Silver Hand kicked his ass, and she'd saved his life. Even between the light of the moons and fire, it was hard to make out her face in it's entirety. Still, she looked familiar.

"I remember. How do you know who I am?" He asked her, narrowing his eyes confusedly.

"Remember the giant at Pelagia farm?"

It clicked.

"OH! You're that really cool lady who kicked that giant's ass!" His own yelling made his head swim, but he didn't care. How had he forgotten?!

"Yes. I'm also the lady who's saved your ass twice. Now, shush, and eat some food." The woman pushed the bowl of stew towards him.

Fumbling with the fork, Farkas managed to maneuver some food into his mouth

He could only finish half the bowl until he felt himself drifting off. The woman laughed at him and pushed the hair from his face, laying him back down. She pulled him into her arms and gently raked her nails up and down his back.

"I...never got your name..." Farkas slurred tiredly, unable to keep his eyes open.

He fell asleep before he got his answer. In the morning, he felt as healthy as a horse (even though he was still a little lightheaded and cold), the woman was gone, and both Skjor and Vilkas were standing over him with matching disgruntled expressions.

Please leave a review. They mean a whole lot.