Chapter 11

Jorik dug into the boar roast, it had been a long while since he had one cooked this good. The last time was when his mother was alive. He glanced at Balgruuf and noticed him eating at a slower pace with an amused look. He stopped eating for a moment, "Sorry, been awhile since I had cooking this good. It reminds me of when my mother was alive," Jorik murmured.

Balgruuf chuckled with amusement. He nodded slowly, not sure what to say. What surprised him was Jorik's faint blush. He didn't think there was much that would make the young nord blush. "Better save room for desert, it will be coming soon," Balgruuf warned.

"There is more to come?" Jorik stated incredulously. He shook his head, the amount of food that was here could have fed the poor he had seen around Whiterun and other holds. Yet here was Balgruuf like other Jarls eating enough to feed them and wasting the rest. He was very tempted to speak his mind, but decided to hold his tongue for now. Later, when the air was clear between them, then he would say something.

"You look troubled," Balgruuf murmured.

"Nothing to be concerned about," Jorik muttered, keeping his face blank.

Balgruuf debated to push, but decided not. He could feel the tension and knew things weren't quite right between them. He wondered if it ever would be. He caught the maid's eye and motioned her to clear the table.

"I'll be making more bread for the servants my Jarl," the maid murmured as she cleared their plates.

"What was that all about?" Jorik asked.

"What is left over, usually the servants eat it," Balgruuf explained and saw surprised. He scowled that Jorik thought he would be as shallow to allow food go to waste. He didn't bother saying anything, but was very tempted to storm at the man.

Jorik nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I think I've had enough," he muttered as he moved his seat back. "I should head home and get some rest if I am to accompany the farmer in the morning."

Balgruuf watched the door closed behind Jorik. He snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. His eyes snapped to the door when it opened once more. "LEAVE!" he shouted. He ran an agitated hand through his hair, wondering how tonight had gone so wrong. The both of them had been so distant; it was like two strangers eating together. They had barely spoken, or looked at each other, before things had changed there was banter, laughter, late nights of talking, now it was all gone. His stomach turned at the thought, and with a sad sigh he sat heavily on his bed, head buried in his hands.

He needed to figure this all out. He had to do something, what he wasn't sure.

~ooooooooooooo~

Jorik walked into the Banned Mare, he found the farmer sitting by the fire. "You, with me!" he ordered, his voice harsh, cold that everyone looked at him in surprise.

The farmer rose from his chair nervously, he didn't feel safe going with this man at the moment. Slowly he followed the man outside, his hands shaking at his side. He led the way to the gates, glancing over his shoulder constantly. The large man followed closely, a dark scowl on his face.

The farmer knew this large man was a friend of the Jarl, but even that didn't help him feel safe. The large nord's blind eye shone eerily in the moonlight. The nord's good eye was filled with anger and he prayed to the eight that anger wasn't turned his way. "We should almost be there," the farmer muttered nervously.

"When we get there, you disappear," the man growled. He didn't have to tell him twice, the farmer thought and then shook his head at that stupid thought. It was too dangerous to be on his own during the night. He wouldn't survive more than an hour.

"What about wolves and such? I am a farmer, not a fighter," The farmer muttered. He really wanted to listen to the man and leave, but he knew it would be a folly.

"Stay here, do not enter that cave," the large man muttered.

The farmer watched him enter the cave. He hoped those mercenaries were there this time and not hiding as they did the last time some searched.

The farmer flinched when he heard the first scream. He cringed when he heard the alarm. He expected people to come running out of the cave, but no one showed yet. His blood stilled when he heard a shout, like what the greybeards do. He couldn't believe what he heard. The ground had trembled beneath his feet, his whole body was shaking in fear.

He stayed rooted in the spot, wanting to run screaming, but couldn't. He didn't want to be there, he wanted to be where it was safe, but he couldn't move his body wasn't listening.

The farmer's heart stopped when he heard footsteps nearing the mouth of the cave. His stomach turned and revolted when he saw the man. The mead and supper he had just finished, ended up on the ground as he collapsed to his knees. He had seen blood before, he has had his own hands covered in the stuff, but this man wasn't just covered in it. It was like he just bathed in it.

What scared him more was the nord's eyes were black with flecks of gold in them. He had never seen anything like and Prayed to all deity he never did again. "Is it done?" he squeaked out through the fear wracking his body.

Jorik faintly heard him, but he smelt the fear. He could feel the souls pressing against him, enjoying the man's fear. Wanting to bath in the fear of him, he could feel all those souls calling out enticingly for him to scare the man more.

"Go see the Jarl, tell him the cave is cleared," Jorik ordered. He grit his teeth against the pressing souls, hating the feel of it. He needed freedom right now, he couldn't head back to the city.

He watched the man run off towards Whiterun. He headed off in the opposite direction, well away from Whiterun and its people. It was too much of a temptation right now just to scare those people. And not just a short thrill, but something that would have them shaking, crying out in fear.

He was vaguely aware of night turning to day. He wasn't even sure where he was heading to, or where he was for that matter. It didn't really matter to him right now. He could feel that other part of him, feel the dragon blood coursing through him. The elation he felt as he defeated his enemies with ease.

The Greybeards said that it was a part of him, but it didn't feel like that. With each soul he took, the stronger the feeling was. Sometimes it was almost like he didn't belong in this body anymore.

Jorik looked up at the sky and saw a dragon flying high in the clouds. He smiled slightly, wishing that it could be him flying instead. He watched as it seamlessly glided through the air. Its scales simmering as the sunlight reflected off them.

With a wistful sigh he turned his attention to ahead of him. His eyes narrowed when he saw someone large moving in the distance. He wasn't sure if this man was friend or foe. He unsheathed his sword and headed towards the man, his body ready for a fight.

His eyes widened when the man faced him with his own sword drawn, but slowly re-sheathed it. He couldn't believe who he was looking at. He hadn't expected to see this nord this soon. "Argis, what are you doing out here?" he asked, uncertainty showing in his voice.

"The Jarl wants me to retrieve his shield that was lost, when Markarth was lost the first time," Argis explained.

"He sent you alone?" Jorik asked incredulously.

"Aye, he has hopes that I do not return. None he has sent has returned, even the squad he sent weeks ago," Argis stated, his voice filled with anger.

"Well then, we'll just have to screw his plans. I'm coming with you." Jorik state, his voice firm, showing he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

"I can't risk the dragonborn. That would be idiotic," Argis hissed.

"You don't have a choice," Jorik snapped. "Lead the way."

Argis sighed and turned his back on the stubborn nord to lead the way. He prayed to the eight that this mission didn't end up killing the dragonborn. Skyrim needed this man more so now, than ever.