Skyrim in the property of Bethesda Softworks. 10,000 views and not yet finished! Thanks everyone for the faves and follows in recent weeks and particularly to Wishinonehand for the review. So here we go: more buildup for the Battle of Whiterun.

The early summer rains had come and gone, the grey clouds off chasing the sun westward to lands unknown. The midsummer sun was doing its best to dry the east face of High Hrothgar. One after the other, our feet padded up the packed earth and ice-cracked stones of the 7000 Steps.

I'm sure the green vista behind us was stunning. Indeed, the tapestry Aura Whisper and my mundane senses wove for me sang of life basking in the glorious weather. Next to me Aela glowed with the contentment and affection we only share when alone together. The Beast within her was full of energy, happy to be near her mate and passing through familiar territory.

Yet growing with every upward step was a feeling of anxiousness in the back of her mind. Like the flaw that mars the luster of the most perfect gem. We passed the seventh rune marker relating the tale of Paarthurnax and the Voice before Aela finally told me her worries.

"If the legends are true, Alduin has fled to Sovngarde to rest and feed," She said into the patient silence.

Straight to the point. One of the countless reasons I love her so.

"So I've been told," I replied, thinking it best to let her talk.

"No Nord has ever returned from Shor's Hall once they ever arrived."

I shrugged uneasily, "Some Cyrodiil legends hold that a few have come back from the Underworld," I temporized. The truth is, up to that point I had no idea how seriously she took her culture's myths.

She shook her head, I could hear her red tresses slapping her shoulder blades. "From your land of the dead. Not from Sovngarde. And how many of them really came back?"

I looked down at the ground and rubbed the red diamond on my arm. She had a good point. Heracles had left his flesh and blood; Orpheus his wife and sanity; Lazarus left his happiness. Even Mara's daughter was obligated to spend half of eternity below Mundus.* Death touched everything and not even the gods went unscathed. I didn't want to feel so detached, but there was nothing for it. Alduin was my nemesis and I would not permit him a safe haven.

Aela and I sat for a moment beside the path.

"We don't know for sure where he's gone yet. But if I have to go to Sovngarde, I will. Alduin would have a way back and forth without death so there must be a way. I will learn his secrets. I will come back to you."

She leaned forward to touch her forehead to mine, "But I only just found you," she said quietly.

I cupped her cheek and kissed her gently. I had no other comfort to offer.

"You misunderstand our authority. The Greybeards have never involved themselves in political affairs," he repeated for the hundredth time. Our argument had spilled out into the courtyard behind High Hrothgar's citadel. Arngeir's aura positively fumed. He shook his head for the hundredth time.

"And you underestimate just how seriously the Greybeards are taken in the world below," I replied. "Jarl Balgruuf will not let me use Dragonsreach unless a truce is secured."

"Then negotiate the truce!"

"I'm a drifting mercenary! Ulfric and Tullius won't listen to me. They will listen to the Greybeards: they respect your order. Without you there will be no peace in Skyrim."

"The intervention of the Greybeards in worldly affairs would threaten all that we have worked for."

"Your refusal to intervene will do the same! If this war does not stop soon, Alduin will return. Then all our labors will be in vain. The Greybeards must change, or Alduin will destroy us all."

I was right and the old man found it distasteful in the extreme. His order had built its foundations on avoiding worldly affairs in favor of quiet contemplation and offering guidance to those whom they saw as needing it. Now they would be trying to stop a war that had little to do with them.

"Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you. This is the road we have to walk," Arngeir said after a few minutes staring out across the mountains to our north. "Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems. So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them. We will see if they remember us. Deliver this message to the warring parties: If they will listen, we will do what I can to bring them to terms."

"May the wisdom of Akatosh guide us all," I said, and took my leave once more.

Aela and I rode hard for Solitude. We took every shortcut we could find and stopped only when our horses were about to give out. The plains of Whiterun gave way to the woods of the Pale, where we stopped briefly to congratulate my housecarls and the Companions on taking Fort Dunstad. Seeing that repairs to the crumbling structure were under way, Aela and I bolted off again, the forest giving way to sullen marshes as we crossed Hjaalmarch and at last clattered over Dragonbridge and into Haafingar.

I stepped into the barracks to hear General Tullius and his second in command, Legate Rikke, discussing Whiterun.

"I'm telling you, Ulfric's planning an attack on Whiterun," Rikke said to the general. She was a Nord woman in her fifties.

General Tullius was gazing vacantly at one of the Imperial banners hung in their office. "He'd be insane to try. He doesn't have the men," he replied.

"That's not what my scouts report, sir. Every day more join his cause. Riften, Dawnstar, and Winterhold support him."

"It's not a cause Legate, it's a rebellion."

I didn't need working eyes to know that she rolled hers at the general's back. Her tone of voice gave away her contempt for Tullius's semantics, "Call it whatever you like, General. The man's going to try to take Whiterun."

"And Jarl Balgruuf?"

"Balgruuf refuses the Legion's right to garrison troops in his city. On the other hand, he also refuses to acknowledge Ulfric's claim."

Tullius turned to look over the map table in the middle of the room. "Well, if he wants to stand outside the protection of the Empire, fine. Let Ulfric pillage his city. You people and your damn Jarls."

"General, you can't force a Nord to accept help he hasn't asked for."

Tullius rubbed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, "If Ulfric is making a move for Whiterun, we need to be there to stop him. . . Draft another letter to Balgruuf with the usual platitudes, but this time share some of your intelligence regarding Ulfric's plans. Embellish if you have to. We'll let it seem like it's his idea."

Legate Rikke sounded like a teacher hearing her pet student learn a lesson, "Yes sir!"

The general shook his head, "You Nords and your bloody sense of honor." He noticed Aela and me standing at the door. "I know you two. The party-crasher from Cyrodiil and the bane of the Silver Hand. Speak to Legate Rikke. I suspect we could use people like you."

"That's not why we're here," Aela said.

"I see. Then there is nothing further to discuss. If you change your mind, speak with the Legate."

"But the Greybeards have a great deal to discuss with you General," I said. "They would have you come to High Hrothgar."

"The Greybeards? What do those old hermits want with me?"

"They want a truce until the dragons have been dealt with," I explained.

"They are getting to be a problem," the General allowed. "But I wasn't sent here to fight dragons. My job is to quell this rebellion, and I intend to do just that, dragons or no dragons."

I rolled by red-brown eyes behind their blindfold, "I'm not asking you to fight dragons and the dragons don't care why you and your legions are here, General. They will tear your soldiers apart as easily as they did Helgen, Morthal, and Kynesgrove. How will you do your job then?"

Tullius sighed his admission to my point, "Very well. But I'm going nowhere until this issue at Whiterun is settled." He looked over his shoulder to the desk where Rikke was writing furiously. "Legate, is the letter finished?"

"Yes sir," she said, quickly sanding and sealing the note before handing it to him.

"Deliver this to Jarl Balgruuf," he told me. He pulled a second envelope out of the breast plate of his armor, "And give this one to Olfrid Battle-Born. Be discrete."

"So long as I see you at High Hrothgar after the battle sir," I said and turned to leave.

*I wish I could remember where I read that fictional epilogue for Lazarus after the Gospel's narrative moved on. It was a brilliant short story.

For how complete TES's lore is I'm amazed that these stories don't have their equivalents in-universe (That I've found). Putting them in was a tough call, adding too many out-of-universe elements can ruin the reader's buy-in. At least the names are mostly Greek and Latin, so they could fit well in Cyrodiil lore.