Chapter III

The snow fell heavily in the small, ruined city of Winterhold. Once, in the distant past, the city had been the Capital of Skyrim and the great mages college had been looked upon with great respect. Now, one was just a memory, and the other a sore topic of discussion, to be scorned across the land. No matter what they had been before, now they were both mere shells of their former glory and power.

Valerie Iron-Axe, an ex-Legion Nord who currently wore a simple thick belted tunic and dark leggings, stood near the bridge to the college on the very spot where the young Orc Magoza, and the crazed murderous Orc Burag had vanished not two months ago.

Magoza had come into her life at a time when she'd had absolutely nothing to live for. She had thought not only that her husband was dead, but her coin was running dry. She had been living day-to-day, with no prospect of any future, and the joyous memories of the past had been long washed away by pain and anguish.

But Magoza had come along and had shown her how to feel again, how to be again. The young Orc had become something of a daughter figure in her loveless life, despite the fact that she had known her for only a few mere days.

Then the Thalmor had come looking for Tam, an Altmer who had tried to escape them for so long. Valerie and Magoza had been dragged into it, becoming fugitives of Whiterun hold and possibly the Imperial Legion themselves. The Legion had been assisting the vile elves, believing in their twisted lies.

It hadn't been till they had stopped in the Nightgate in on the road between Dawnstar and Winterhold, that her husband had suddenly turned up after a five-year absence, with Magoza's High-Elf father, Meratur in tow. At first Valerie had been furious with him, wanting him to leave her life forever. But the real fear that he might actually leave her was too much. She begged him never to leave her again. Thus far he hadn't done.

That brought them on to Winterhold, where they had faced off with Burag, an Orc who had seemingly wanted Magoza's life above all else. Doran, Rontag's friend had been killed. But before the murderous Orc could kill anyone else, Magoza and he disappeared in a fiery explosion that Valerie knew was caused by the young Orc.

Meratur, a High-Elf, who had been Magoza's true father, not Burag, had only just revealed this fact to her before she died. He took her death hard, and after the funeral he had left Winterhold without saying so much as goodbye.

"Valerie?" she heard Tam ask from behind her, breaking her from her thoughts.

The Nord turned around to see the High-Elf wearing the same helmet-less steel-plate armour she always wore. Her slightly wrinkled face gave her more of a look of an age around fifty, not her true age of over a hundred-and-eighty.

Valerie had heard that the elves lived a long time, but to her such an age seemed almost impossible. How could one live for over a hundred years? It seemed strange to her, almost frightening that an age as great as that was possible. From what Tam had told her, under the right circumstances elves could live up to a thousand.

It made her age of thirty-eight seem insignificant by comparison. She felt like nothing more than a child when compared to such an age. It did make her feel better, as her husband Rontag was only thirty-three, a good five years younger than her.

At the time when she and Rontag had first began to see each other, Valerie had thought she had struck gold. He had been nineteen and she had only just turned twenty-five. He had been young and quite shy back then. Despite knowing the age difference might be a turn-off for him, she had carefully tried her luck. Fortunately, they both hit it off rather quickly. Later, they had gone on and adventured together across the land.

From Riften to Morthal, to Markarth to Bruma. They'd seen pretty much all of Skyrim in their youth, except for Winterhold. The two had even ventured into some of Cyrodiil, namely to the aforementioned city of Bruma.

When the war came, she heard her father had joined the Imperial Legion to fight off the Aldmeri Dominion. Both her and her husband joined soon after. But things had gone badly. The elves took the Imperial City, and in a battle near the city of Chorrol, she had found herself impaled by a conjured Aldmeri sword.

She not only found herself being sent home, but a few months later, she heard that her father had been killed in what was to be known as the 'Battle of the Red Ring,' where Imperial forces retook the Imperial City from the Dominion.

"You okay?" Tam asked the Nord, breaking her out of her thoughts once more.

Valerie smiled. "What is it, friend?" she asked in her heavy Skyrim accent.

"We received a letter from Meratur," Tam informed her, the High-Elf's accent clearly from northern Cyrodiil.

"Where is this it?" Valerie asked, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. He had left so suddenly and under such tragic circumstances, that she had feared for his well-being.

"Rontag has it, he's in The Frozen Hearth," Tam said.

The Frozen Hearth was Winterholds only inn. Though back before the great collapse, where most of the city had fallen into the sea, it had not been the case. The city had been populated with multiple such establishments, and The Frozen Hearth had been widely considered the worst. The story was, that after a particularly bad series of storms had ravaged the coastline, most of the city including the competition, had been washed into the ocean. The Frozen Hearth had become the best inn in Winterhold by default, as it was the only one left. It was still better than nothing, even though its drinks tended to be watered down to the point of them being almost just water.

"Okay, I'll be right there," Valerie told her fair-haired, almost eight-foot tall friend.

"You sure you're okay?" Tam asked with clear concern.

"Just thinking," the Nord replied.

"Well, we'll be in the inn."

"I'll be right there, don't you worry. Just give me a moment more."

Tam nodded before heading to the inn. Valerie stood there for a few moments more, staring at nothing, lost in thought. She still remembered the explosion that had taken her friend's life. How she had cried out her name in sheer anguish.

"I miss you Magoza," she whispered. "I knew you for such a short time, and yet you made such an impression on my life."

The fair-haired Nord turned and headed to the inn. Once inside she made her way over to the table in the corner where her husband Rontag and friend Tam were sat.

Rontag had shoulder length light brown hair, a knot-tied beard, blue eyes and tanned, slightly aged skin. While he liked wearing his old steel armour, right at that moment he was in a simple thick blue tunic and green leggings, which far from complimented each other. Valerie pulled out a chair and seated herself.

"You should read it, might make you feel a bit better," her husband said holding out the letter.

Valerie smiled at him. "You should read it to me," she said. "I like listening to you speak."

Rontag grunted. "Are you sure?" he asked with clear trepidation. "I'm not very good at reading, you know that."

Unlike his wife, Rontag's accent wasn't nearly as thick as it had once been. He could attest that to the years both in Cyrodiil as an Imperial Soldier, and in Hammerfell as he helped the Redguards drive the Dominion out.

"I'm sure," she said. "I don't care if it's not perfect." Valerie added, trying to bolster his confidence.

He cleared his throat before he began to slowly read the letter. "Hello Valerie, Rontag and Tam," he began. He looked up at his wife to make sure she wasn't laughing at his terrible reading skills. Satisfied that she wasn't he continued on. "This is Meratur. I left rather-" Rontag paused. "Abruptly?" he asked pointing at the word. "I don't want to read this," he complained. "I'll make myself look like a fool."

Valerie smiled at Rontag's unwillingness, to read the letter. "You're better than you make out. If you'd only try."

"Others don't need to try, they just read," he said bitterly. "I struggle with it all the time."

"If that's how you feel," Valerie said.

"I do," he confirmed.

"You want to read it Tam?" she asked the Hihg-Elf.

Before Tam could respond, Rontag happily slid the letter in front of her. She promptly picked it up with no complaints whatsoever.

"Okay, where was we?" Tam asked.

"Just after our names," Rontag told her.

"I'll just start from the beginning, give a run down of what Rontag read." the Altmer said to them. "It basically says hello, tells us that it's him. Then says he left abruptly because he was grieving the loss of the daughter he barely knew. He apologizes for the way he was acting." Tam looked across at Valerie. "The next bit I'm going to read as it's written."

"Go ahead."

Tam cleared her throat. "If you are wondering what happened to me, then don't worry. Everything's fine. I returned to Solitude where I met up with Magoza's half-brother and half-sister."

"So he went to Solitude," Valerie said. "I wonder if he and the two Redguard bards have drinks together?"

"Only one was a bard," Rontag corrected. "An annoying one at that."

Tam continued on. "Moth, the brother has now moved on. To where, I'm not sure. Durza, the sister however has stayed with me here. I may return to Jehanna in High Rock at some point, but right now I am helping the general stationed here. She was my commanding officer before I left the Legion all those years ago, and since she temporarily reinstated me, I agreed to help. Though from what she tells me, they are close to finding a replacement for her and when that happens she is to retire from service. I have asked her what she will do and I believe she wants to return with me and Durza to High Rock, so I will wait here till then.

"I've seen Kalon and Jalia since I arrived, and while I believe it was Kalon that wished to graduate from the Bard's College, they have both become bards in a way. Jalia is fairly good with the drum, while Kalon will go far with his skills on the lute. I have not really spoked to them much, but I know they send their regards.

"I still miss Magoza, but I feel that she is in a far better place now. She is with the Divines in Aetherius, and I'm sure she is looking down on us with a smile. Thank you for everything. Meratur."

Valerie took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to burst from her eyes. "It's good to know he's alright," she said.

"It's good to know he's well," Rontag agreed. "But we barely know him. Why did he send a letter?"

"Because he wanted to," Tam said.

Valerie wiped her eyes. "I know Magoza meant a lot to him, and she meant a lot to me. It is good to know he's okay. I just wish he'd stayed a little longer."

"Why?" Rontag asked.

"Because I would have liked to have known him better," Valerie said wistfully. "He knew Magoza the best, and I'd liked to have heard what stories he had to tell."

Rontag shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Valerie," he said in a soft, disarming manner. "You barely knew the Orc girl."

Valerie stared at him with a frown. "What is that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"It's been three months," he said to her.

"And?" Valerie asked him, anger beginning to build up inside of her. Rontag didn't understand, couldn't understand how she felt. He seemed to have already forgotten about his own friend Doran's death at the hands of Burag, but she wouldn't forget Magoza's.

"Don't you think it's time you started to look at the future instead of the past?" he continued on.

The chair Valerie was sitting on crashed to the floor as she rose up sharply. Tam held her breath, not liking where things were headed.

Valerie pointed an accusing finger at her husband. "You might not of cared for her you heartless bastard, but she meant something to me!" she spat.

With that, she stormed out of the inn, kicking the fallen chair hard as she passed, leaving Rontag stunned, and Tam feeling rather uncomfortable.

Rontag turned to Tam who was looking at the her hands as she rested them on the table. "What was that about!?" he asked.

"You know that she cared deeply for the girl, even if she did know her for less than a week."

"I just don't get it," he revealed. "It's a tragedy, I understand that. But it's been three months."

"She'll get over it in her own time," Tam said. "You just need to give her that time."

"She's just as mopey now as she was last month, and the month before," he said.

"Then you haven't been paying much attention to her feelings then have you," Tam accused. "She's healing, it's just taking a while." Tam folded her arms. "How about you? Doran meant a lot to you?"

Rontag rested his hands upon the tabletop, his mood becoming increasingly more sombre. "He was my brother in a way. He died in battle as he would have wanted. But it was on his back. He would have preferred it to have been on his feet."

"So you must understand how your wife feels to lose someone?" Tam asked him.

"But I knew Doran for a long time."

"How long is long?"

"About six years."

"And you think that you're allowed to be upset at Doran's passing, but your wife isn't allowed to be the same, just because you knew your friend for longer?"

Rontag's eyes narrowed. "It's been three months. I have moved on."

"Have you?" Tam asked him. "I see how you look when you think nobody is watching. How your posture sags. You miss your friend, and the fact that Valerie feels the same way about hers and isn't afraid to show it, just reinforces the pain you, yourself feel."

He glared at her. "Don't presume to know me little elf!" he warned. "I didn't see anyone you cared about dying at the hands of that bastard Orc!?"

The Atlmer webbed her fingers tightly and took a deep breath in an attempt to keep herself calm. "I have lost everything," she told him coldly. "Everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever cared about was destroyed by the Thalmor."

Rontag looked away. "They destroyed a lot of people's lives. You're not special," he replied bitterly. "They killed Valerie's father. I suppose I was lucky. My folks died before I knew them, but don't you go making out you're special."

"Does that make it better though?" she asked him angrily. "Should I be joyful just because a lot of people lost loved ones to the Dominion?"

"That's not what I meant," he said defensively.

"What did you mean?" she questioned.

Rontag looked away without responding.

Tam folded her arms. "I'm waiting for an answer."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I shouldn't have said that, it's just that like a lot of folks, I don't have much left."

"You still have your wife, who loves you very much," Tam told him. "Don't let that slip from your grasp. Be there for her. You need her love right now as much as she needs yours."

The Nord rose up from his chair slowly. "You're right," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'll go find her and try to repair the damage I've done."


Valerie was sitting on the porch railing outside the small house, that the three of them had managed to acquire. It had been a bit of a wreck when they had arrived, but a bit of hard work and they had managed to make it liveable. Even if the roof was quite leaky.

The house itself lay at the end of the street near the bridge that lead to the mages college. It was small, and often uncomfortable for the three of them to be living in together, but they had learned to manage somewhat.

Everything around her was covered in a thick layer of snow. It had only just stopped snowing, shortly after she had left the inn, the trail left from her boot prints still fresh on the white ground.

The Nord woman looked up as she noticed someone approach. She looked away when she saw it was her husband, not wanting to talk to him. Not after what he had said to her in the inn.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he apologised earnestly. "I know she meant a lot to you, it's just that I'm trying to get over Doran's death. It's difficult for the both of us."

Valerie looked over at the meandering bridge that lead to the mages college, its arches hanging perilously over nothing, where the ground had given way long ago.

"I know you miss her, I just don't like to see you upset," he continued.

She looked over at him. His long light brown hair blew softly in the wind. She loved him so much, but she also hated him. He had gone to fight in Hammerfell without telling her, and for that she couldn't forgive him.

"Please say something," Rontag pleaded.

"I need time," she told him. "I need time to get over it."

"I know. Is there anything I can do?"

Valerie climbed off the porch railing where she sat and stepped over to him. He stiffened up, expecting her to strike him. Instead, she reached around his waist, hugging him tightly.

"Just hold me," she said.

He stretched his large muscular arms around her waist and held her. The warmth of their bodies together, was like a blanket against the cold harsh wind.

"Promise me you'll never leave me," Valerie said.

"I will never do that to you again, my love. As Mara as my witness, I shall stay by your side till death takes me to Sovngarde."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

She pulled away from him and gripped his hand before leading him into their home, pushing the front door open and pulling her husband inside, before closing it shut.

Valerie dragged Rontag to their tiny bedroom, passing the many buckets that were there to catch water from the leaky roof. The tiny bedroom was just large enough for a small double bed, and a single set of drawers. Around the bed was only enough room for one to shimmy around.

With lust, she locked lips with her husband, before slipping her hands beneath his shirt, lifting it up slightly as she caressed his thick, hairy chest.

With a quick shove, she pushed him onto the bed where she climbed on top of him, removing his shirt before kissing him passionately.

She removed her tunic and threw it to the ground, before tugging at his leggings, pulling them off and discarding them. Slowly she removed her own, teasing him with a gentle kiss on his belly button. He let out a sigh of pleasure, as she then moved up his body, her lips finding his.

They embraced each other, for the first time since they had been reunited. An hour later, they were both asleep in each others arms.


Outside, in the darkness of evening, the snow fell lightly over Winterhold. Inside the Iron-Axe residence, the floor was littered with buckets, in an attempt to catch the water that dripped through the patchy thatched roof.

The three of them, Valerie, Rontag and Tam, were all sitting around the tiny kitchen table, eating the same thick broth that they had eaten for almost three months now.

It had been tough, as they had very little coin to spare. They had tried to change that fact by going on semi-frequent trips out into the wilderness, to remove dangerous animals that had made residence far too close to the road.

Earlier, Tam had been informed that the Jarl wanted them to do something for him. There had been reports of a pack of two or three sabre cats near Stillborn Cave, which lay just off the only road, south of the city. The Jarl wanted them to deal with the animals, as they could easily become a nuisance to any travellers that decided to come this way.

Between fixing the roof and getting some better food on their table, they needed that gold. So it had been decided between them, that they would set off tomorrow, and begin their expedition to rid the roadside cave of the nuisance.

Right now however, Tam tried to ignore the two as they giggled at each other. Somehow they had not only managed to repair the rift between them, but to get drunk together, and act as thought they had both reverted into teenagers.

"So what's it like to be living with two women?" Valerie asked him playfully with a sly smile.

"Well in my eye, there is only one woman in this house," Rontag reached over and took his wife's hand in his. "Besides I've only seen you in all your natural beauty and splendour."

Valerie glanced sideways at Tam, barely able to contain the chuckle that escaped her lips. She looked down at the armour the Altmer was never without. "Well she certainly does like to cover herself up."

Tam scowled at them. She didn't know what had gotten into them. A few hours ago, Valerie seemed to hate Rontag, now they were making googly eyes at each other and acting uncharacteristically immature.

"Perhaps a good swill of the good stuff will loosen her up," Rontag suggested.

Valerie playfully punched him on the arm. "I thought I was the only one you saw as I woman in this house?"

"You are," Rontag said quickly. "It's just that I've never seen an elf's, y'know."

Valerie burst out laughing. "Come to think of it neither have I."

Tam didn't like the way the conversation had turned. She began to eat her broth a little faster.

"So, are you the same under all that armour?" Valerie asked her.

The Altmer quickly finished off her broth without responding and rose up from her seat.

"We haven't upset you have we?" Rontag asked, suddenly concerned.

"No, I'm going out for some air," she replied before stepping outside onto the porch, in the cold darkness of the late winter night.

She heard the two love-birds laughing back inside the house, which brought a small smile to her own face. It had been a long time since she had felt like part of a family, and even though the two often irritated her, such as tonight. She found that she didn't want a single thing to change.

Unfortunately the Thalmor had always caught up to her, and she had no illusions that they wouldn't find her here eventually. The only thing that would stop them from wiping out the tiny city of Winterhold to get to her, was probably the mages college. Even though the locals didn't like it much, she felt that it was the secret protector of the city. A despised watchman, who kept those that hated them not only at bay, but somewhat safe.

As the Altmer stepped back inside the house, she found the two Nords trying to suck each others faces off. She smiled inwardly as she made her way to her small room and went to bed.

Updated 28/03/2014