"You have got to – oof – be joking. FUS RO!" The shout echoed painfully through the chamber, blasting one of the attacking draugr back into a corner. "For a pacifist monk, this Jurgen Windcaller has a pretty aggressive tomb!"
Volund raised his shield to deflect the blow of another draugr, then swung his sword quickly into the abomination's arm, breaking it, and whipped the blade around in a circle which ended when the sword impacted the draugr's head. It fell to the ground, twitching, and Volund raised his shield again to approach the draugr he had previously shouted at, which had now recovered.
Lydia, meanwhile, was backing slowly toward Volund under a hail of blows from a draugr with an elaborate horned helmet. The thing laughed as it pressed forward, sending showers of sparks or tiny chips of wood flying from Lydia's shield with each sword strike. Her counterattack impacted harmlessly on the draugr's own shield, and she had to spin quickly and dive away to avoid a brutal attack in response. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as possible, raising her shield, but the draugr seemed to be taunting rather than attacking. It pointed at her and spoke in a rasping growl.
"Qiilaan us dilon, daanik kendov!"
A splash came from behind the beast that sounded like a body falling into water.
"WULD!"
Volund appeared out of nowhere, moving impossibly fast with his sword held horizontally. The blade hit the draugr in the neck with all of the Dragonborn's speed, and the undead warrior crumpled into a heap. The sword stuck in the draugr, however, and Volund couldn't hold on to it. Off balance, he dropped to his knees and skidded to a halt, inches from a plunge into a pool of water. He rose up, a little unsteady, and grinned at Lydia.
"I bet the Greybeards never did that!"
Volund and Lydia had climbed the 7000 steps – a daunting task in heavy armor, to say the least – and presented themselves to the Greybeards who had called for the Dragonborn. Rather than giving them any urgent mission, however, the old monks seemed more interested in simply talking to and training the Dragonborn. Volund had happily accepted the chance to learn more, and Lydia had happily accepted the chance to wait outside while five Nords enthusiastically shouted at each other hard enough to shake the foundations of High Hrothgar.
When Volund had finally emerged, it was with a half-smile that he couldn't seem to get rid of, and a small mission after all. The Greybeards wished to test his abilities, and he had to retrieve a horn from the tomb of their founder to prove himself.
Of course, it hadn't been so simple as opening a coffin. The tomb was massive enough to contain a small forest, which was actually quite beautiful, and countless undead Nords, which were not. Deep within it was also some sort of scratched monument that Volund had examined intensely. They had then fought on to the final chamber, which Volund had just cleared with his dramatic intervention.
"No, my thane, the Greybeards probably never did anything like that."
Volund went for his lost sword, but Lydia beat him to it, bracing a boot on the draugr's body and wrenching the weapon free. She spun it expertly in her hand so that the hilt faced Volund. He took it and sheathed it, nodding his thanks.
"Still 'my thane,' eh? I don't think the draugr will be offended by impropriety, especially now that they're dead. Again." He kicked one for effect.
"I'm sorry, my…" she bit her lip, then sighed. "The training to be a housecarl is very clear on this point. But I'll try to be less formal if it bothers you."
"It doesn't bother me, I just want you to feel comfortable dealing with me. Whatever my title is, I'm not some privileged lord who needs to have his ego stroked."
"I appreciate it, my thane, but with all due respect, having rules and instructions to fall back on is sometimes a relief. I'm new to this, after all."
She fell into step behind him as Volund walked to the enormous sarcophagus that the draugr had been guarding. It was an eerie thing, sculpted as if the hand of the man within had broken through the cover. It held a horn tightly in its grip.
"I guess I can understand that. How old are you, anyway?"
"Twenty, my thane."
He whistled low in disbelief.
"Twenty years old, and they threw you to the wolves – or rather, to the dragons." He began to try to extricate the horn from the stone fist without damaging it. "You must have been pretty good in a fight."
"Irileth was satisfied with my – here, my thane, maybe if you pushed the other side of it? – with my fighting skills when I trained with her. I actually never had a true fight to the death before joining you."
The horn slid loose suddenly and Volund fumbled it for a split second before getting a solid grip on it. He turned to face Lydia again.
"You had never actually fought anything before this week?"
Her shoulders drooped almost imperceptibly. "I trained all my life with guards and housecarls. Inexperienced does not mean unskilled, my thane."
"Apparently not! You barely reacted when you saw your first draugr, except to kill it. I'm impressed." Her posture returned to normal as he spoke.
"Thank you, my thane. It's true that there were certainly more experienced, even more skilled, warriors in Whiterun than me, but there are, of course, other considerations when selecting a housecarl…" she trailed off and looked at her feet.
"Right, good looks. Well, lucky for me I got a housecarl who has looks and skill. A-HA!" he rushed toward the wall behind the tomb.
Lydia hurried to catch up, worry and interest crowding out the conversation. "My thane, what is it?"
Volund didn't answer, but instead pulled and turned an almost hidden mechanism. The wall rumbled and a large section of it suddenly dropped into a slot in the floor. Dust flew in lazy circles out of the newly revealed passageway, and a large chest was dimly visible in the shadows within. Lydia grabbed a torch off the wall and reached for the flint and tinder that she kept in her pack.
"Here, allow me," Volund said. He took the torch in one hand and held its end over his other hand. A small flame began to rise from his palm, and the torch soon caught fire. Lydia breathed in sharply.
"You're a mage, too, my thane?"
He shook his head slowly as he handed the burning torch back to her.
"Not at all. My father made some friends in his mercenary work, and one of them was a mage from Solitude who sometimes joined him for jobs. The old man taught him a little about using a dagger in a pinch, and the mage taught him a few spells that would be useful to a mercenary – making a fire quickly and without tools, and a very basic healing spell. He passed them on to me before he died. I've never tried to actually use either in a fight, although they certainly come in handy from time to time."
"I can see that they would, my thane." She paused, in thought. The torch flickered. "Could you teach me the spells?"
"I'd be happy to try. How about this: tonight when we make camp, I'll teach you how to make the fire with magic, and we'll see how it goes."
"I'd like that, my thane."
"Then it's settled! But for now, let's crack open this chest."
While Lydia held the torch, Volund knelt in front of the massive, ancient chest. He pulled on the lid, but it was locked or stuck in place. He reached into his pack, rummaging for a lockpick, then thought better of it. With the hilt of his sword, he tapped the chest all around the lock, and gave a satisfied nod. Lydia watched as he stood and with one swift motion, put his book heel through the chest where the lock had been. He wrenched the lid upward. When Lydia brought the torch in close, they both were silent for a moment. The chest contained eight gold ingots and more than a few jewels that caught and scattered the torchlight. It was Lydia who regained her tongue first.
"You know, my thane, I am sworn to carry your burdens…"
Author's note: The draugr's dialogue is a combination of two lines they actually say, and it means "Bow before the dead, doomed warrior!" Also, I know it's done for gameplay purposes, but it makes no sense to find Septims (or drinkable potions, for that matter) in ruins which predate the Empire. Luckily for our heroes, plain old gold never goes out of style.