Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim. But I do wish I lived there. That'd be pretty frickin sweet. Except for the fact that I would probably die within 2 days of being there. But still...

A/N: Thank you to my one reviewer. Seriously, this story wouldn't have made it past ch 1 without you. So thanks. :) Also, I changed the genre from humor to hurt/comfort because idk if I can keep this story funny when the shit hits the fan. Just sayin. Sorry. Anyway, read on! And if you are reading, PLEASE review. I would really like to know your thoughts on my story, just please don't flame me. I might cry. Seriously, I'm sensitive. REVIEW PLEASE. That's all. :)

Chapter 3

I grabbed Dawnbreaker's hilt and pulled the blade free of the dragon's skull. Next I looked around for my bow and found it lying near a large rock. I stooped over to pick it up. As my back straightened, my stomach muscles screamed their frustration, and I muttered curses as I dropped my bow again.

"Are you okay?" Silas asked from somewhere behind me. Right hand on my abdomen, I turned my head to grin at him. His face was blank, eyes a liquid forest.

"I'm fine. Really," I assured him. I reached down and picked up my bow, being careful to move slowly this time. So much for my good day. I snorted.

"Where are we going?" I looked over at Silas, where he was standing completely calm even though we had just battled and killed a mythical giant flying lizard.

"I figured we would head to Rorikstead, stay at the inn for a night, and then head to Markarth to deliver something. Any more questions?" I asked, a little annoyed. My aching muscles were not helping my attitude at all.

Silas looked away and instead turned his gaze towards the west. I guessed that he was judging the distance we had to travel and the time we had left to travel it. I wondered when he would figure out that we wouldn't get there before nightfall. But instead of saying that we should just stay in Whiterun for the night, he just looked at me.

"You're the boss," he simply stated. In that moment, I knew that I never wanted to leave this guy. He could help take down a dragon without blinking, AND he just called me 'the boss'. I'm in love…I laughed mentally. And so we continued our journey.

We walked in silence for a while, enjoying the beautiful spring weather and the scenery. We passed Fort Greymoor, following the cobbled path as it turned towards the South. When I was tired of the silence, I decided to strike up a conversation.

"So Silas. Back in Whiterun, you said people hate you because you're the 'halfbreed'," I started. "What exactly does that mean?"

He sighed. "It means that I'm different. And to most Nords, different isn't good."

"Do you have six toes on one foot or something?" I asked.

"No. It's not something so trivial." He brought his right hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I… I mean, my parents…" I was surprised to see him stumbling for words. He seemed like such a calm, collected guy. He let his arm fall back to his side.

"People don't like me because my mother was a Wood Elf and my father's a Nord," he rushed to speak. "Ever since I was little, people treated me differently. My father tried to ignore the comments people made about me and my mother. I had no idea why everyone treated me so badly. Eventually, I… I figured it out."

I glanced at his face. His eyes were fixed on the path that we walked. I didn't know why he was being so dramatic about it. Coming from two different races of people didn't seem so bad. He looked like he got the best of both worlds. He was great with a bow, and he had a rugged handsomeness that belonged to most all Nord men.

"I don't think that's so bad. Sure, you're different, but aren't we all?" Silas looked over at me, a faint smile playing across his lips.

"I'm glad you don't find me repulsive." I smiled at him, but on the inside I felt bad for him. He had been treated horribly for his whole life because of something he couldn't control.

"To be honest, when you said that people hated you I thought it was because you murdered beautiful women. I'm glad it's not something that terrible." At that, he laughed. It was the first time I'd heard him laugh, and I liked it. I vowed to myself that I would make him laugh more often. After that, we continued on till the road forked.

The sun began to set behind the mountains, casting us in deep blue shadows. We stopped at the fork, and Silas decided to speak up about our course of action.

"You know, Rorikstead isn't really on the way to Markarth," Silas gave me information that *ahem* I already knew.

"I know," I retorted. "I just thought it might be nice to rest a bit after fighting that dragon." Honestly, my stomach muscles were on fire, and I really wanted to check on the bruise I knew had formed where the dragon's wing had hit me. My armor protected me from most of the blow, but there was a bit of a dent that was putting pressure on my abdomen. I needed to repair it and clean both my weapons and armor.

"I can keep going, but we can stop if you want." Arrogant bastard. I mimicked his voice in my head, but instead of his voice being deep and silky it was high-pitched and grating. I laughed.

"Well, I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in… three days? I think? I don't know." I scratched my head, kicking small rocks with my right foot.

"Then we'll go to Rorikstead." And that was that. I loved the fact that Silas did what I said. I mean, we'd only met about six hours before and he was already following my orders like a well-trained dog. A very attractive, very skilled dog.

We trudged for another hour before I caught sight of the village just up the hill ahead. I did a mental victory dance, thanked the Gods, and then continued trudging. My stomach muscles were feeling better (thanks to all the walking) and I was feeling a bit less drained, but still exhausted. All I could picture in my head was a warm bed piled high with blankets.

Before I knew it I was stumbling up the steps to the inn, muttering something about rooms, throwing my armor off, and collapsing into bed.