Volund shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Jarl Balgruuf launched into a new train of thought in what was quickly becoming a monologue on the wonders of the Greybeards. It would be extremely rude to interrupt or leave while the Jarl was speaking, even though Volund's intentions were to visit the Greybeards just as the Jarl was telling him to – after finally sleeping in a bed for a few hours, that is.
His eyes wandered up to the dragon skull mounted above the Jarl's throne. Volund had always assumed it was a fake, made by magic or a skilled smith, but now he wasn't so sure. It looked remarkably similar to the skull left behind by the dragon at the watchtower. He wondered briefly if the Jarl would have it retrieved and mounted beside the other.
"… pronounce you Thane of Whiterun!" the Jarl said, and Volund's attention was suddenly fixated on the man. "You have my permission to buy property in the hold, naturally, and assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl!" Irileth glanced sharply at the Jarl, but he paid her no mind. "It is almost morning. If you will stay in the city tomorrow, Lydia will be ready to serve you on the day after. I'll notify the guards and other persons of note that you are now a nobleman – wouldn't want them to mistake you for a common mercenary, now would we?"
Volund couldn't help himself. He turned slightly and smirked at Farengar, who was watching from the doorway to his quarters. The wizard stiffened, raised his chin an inch or two, and disappeared into his private rooms. Volund turned back to the Jarl, once again all seriousness. He bowed low.
"It's my honor, Jarl. I will certainly stay in the city for a day. Divines keep you until we meet again." The young Nord left the palace and headed straight for the Bannered Mare, excited about the thought of hot food and soft beds. As the doors to the palace closed behind him, a young dark-haired woman emerged from the direction of the barracks. She looked relieved to see Irileth alive and unharmed, but the dark elf did not return her smile.
The sun was high enough in the sky when Volund awoke that his first meal was as much lunch as breakfast. The morning was cool but nice, and he was warm enough in his clothing and leather jerkin as he stepped outside, but he still wished he was wearing more. Heavy armor had become a habit for the young traveler, and he felt naked without it. He had returned the Jarl's brother's armor, though he suspected Hrongar would have been happy to let him keep it once he heard the guards' tales of his fight with the dragon. The man seemed in awe of Volund, or at least in awe of The Dragonborn, whoever might have happened to hold the title.
In any case, Volund needed new armor. He remembered a smithy near the town gate, and walked leisurely downhill toward it. Balgruuf had generously rewarded him with gold, though he doubted it was enough to buy a whole suit of armor and new weapons. His calculations of price were suspended, however, when he neared the smithy. An Imperial woman was shooing a Nord in Legion armor out the door.
"Fine, I'll take the job," she was saying, "but don't expect a miracle. No matter how much the Legion needs, there's a limit to how fast I can work."
The man nodded. "The Empire thanks you for whatever you can do, Adrianne." He turned to go, and Volund took his place.
"The Legion needs steel, eh?"
"Yes, and it snows in Winterhold. When don't they need steel? I shouldn't complain, though. All business is good business," the woman said. "I'm Adrianne, by the way. New in town?"
Volund laughed. "You might say that, although I think I'm making an impression." Adrianne looked at him curiously, but he ignored it and continued. "I know my way around a hammer and anvil, and I don't have much to do today. If you have an order that's too big to fill, I'd be happy to help you."
The smith's eyes narrowed. "If you're any good, I certainly have more than enough work. But no one works the forge all day for free. What do you want?"
He shrugged. "Partly I just want to help out Whiterun and the Legion, but I admit I do have another motive. As you can see, I'm not very heavily armed at the moment. If I help you fill your order, how about you let me use your forge and enough raw ore for me to make myself some armor?"
Adrianne snorted. "That's fair enough, depending on how much help you are. Get started making an Imperial blade. I'll be out in a moment to inspect your work."
When the first blade of many was finished, she examined it closely. At length she nodded, satisfied but not unduly impressed.
"This'll do. Where'd you learn to smith?"
Volund chuckled. "Well, I'm no Orc armorer, but my father said any Nord worth the name needed to know how to make a sword and shield for himself. He taught me to work iron and steel. Just don't ask me to make any ebony blades, and I'll do fine."
"No danger of that. Well, then, get to work. Plenty of steel to shape!"
The hammer rang one final time as the last stroke was placed. Volund quenched the sword, watching as steam rolled off the water that boiled instantly when it touched the red-hot blade. The sun was setting, and he and Adrianne had worked constantly, with one small break for supper, since they had started before noon. He was sweaty and covered in soot, and so was Adrianne, but she looked full of energy. No doubt she worked long hours regularly. Volund was more surprised at himself. It had been some time since he had worked a forge but he was barely tired. Adrianne put down her own work and came over to look at his final blade for the day.
"Some fine work here, Volund. I'd say you've earned the right to use my forge, and whatever metal you need. I'll still be making weapons for the Legion tomorrow, however. I'm not sure when I'll be finished with the job."
He considered for a moment. "Actually, do you mind if I work on it tonight?"
The Imperial was visibly taken aback, but responded calmly, "That's fine with me, if you're up to it. And here I thought I was crazy… No matter. The ore is in crates near the smelter. Use whatever you wish."
"Thanks, Adrianne." He lost no time in cracking open the crates of iron and corundum.
Before dawn, he had finished making simple yet strong steel armor. He donned the individual plates, finally feeling dressed. A new sword hung at his hip, and a shield swung from his left arm. The only piece with any adornment or design was the shield. On its flat steel surface, embossed in quicksilver, was the skull of a dragon. Volund laughed at himself as he held it up to the light of the forge, angling it so that the reflection of the flames made it look like the dragon was breathing fire. This would do. He trudged up the hill, finally tired and ready to return to his room at the Bannered Mare.
Despite his lack of sleep, Volund was awake again by mid-morning. He put on his new armor and slung his sword and shield across his back, then paid for breakfast out of the Jarl's reward money and rushed out of the inn. On the way to the palace, he stopped briefly at the shrine to Talos. The raving priest he had seen on other days was absent, and Volund took a moment to touch the shrine lightly and offer a quick prayer to the Divine who looked favorably on quests and the endeavors of men. He lingered for a moment, then turned and bounded lightly up the stairs to the palace, eager to meet his housecarl and be on his way.
Balgruuf had evidently kept his promise to inform his guards of Volund's new status. The guards at Dragonsreach had opened the door to the palace for him by the time he reached it. When he was a commoner, they hadn't bothered. One of the men stammered out a greeting as he passed. The other was silent, perhaps staring at Volund's shield. Then he was inside, and away from the hero worship and the awe they held for the alleged dragonborn.
He had only walked a few steps forward when he saw an attractive young woman sitting on the steps to the higher level of Dragonsreach. She seemed to see him at the same moment, and rose quickly, brushing off any dirt that the steps might have left on her clothing. The woman's hair was dark enough that he suspected she might have some Imperial ancestry, but she was clearly every inch a Nord. She was only a handbreadth shorter than Volund's six-foot, four-inch frame, and she had the fair complexion that all Nords shared.
She approached him, hesitated briefly, and then spoke.
"Pardon me, my lord, but are you…" she broke off. "Are you the Dragonborn?"
Her expression was earnest enough to kill the joke that had sprung to Volund's mind. Instead he answered simply.
"They seem to think so. At any rate, my name is Volund."
The woman looked relieved for a brief moment before regaining control of her passive expression. She bowed deeply before him.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, my thane. I am Lydia. Jarl Balgruuf has assigned me to be your personal housecarl."
"The pleasure's all mine, Lydia. I have to admit, I've never been a thane before. What exactly are your duties?"
She blinked once and then smiled shyly at his small attempt at humor. "As your housecarl, I'm sworn to your service, my thane. I'll guard you, and all you own, with my life, and perform any other duties you require of me."
"Sworn to my service?" he asked. "You've taken oaths?"
She nodded. "Yes, my thane." When she did not elaborate, he persisted.
"To whom?"
"Some to the Jarl, some to the Divines. Most to you. Many of them are magical in nature, and rather binding. Administering them is one of the few times that smug milk-drinker Farengar earns his keep around here." Her eyes widened suddenly. "I'm sorry, my thane! I never meant… I should not have expressed my opinion…"
She could not complete her apology over the noise of Volund's laughter.
"Lydia, I think you and I are going to get along just fine."