Chapter Thirty-Two:

Nahagliiv

We evaded the Vargrs for probably an hour after we saw Cha'qim. We hadn't met-up with the rest of our companions yet, so we decided that they must have gone ahead of us to let Esbern and Delphine know that our "little errand" was finished. I could almost picture the Blade frowning at how long it had taken us.

Simply put, I was tired of Skyrim. Crossing borders only managed to get me knee-deep in snow and threw me face-first into crap I'd never dreamed would happen to me.

Destiny, fate—whatever people deemed it—was seriously getting on my nerves. I didn't want to be Dragonborn, and I certainly did not want to be a Werewolf, but what could I do about it?

I realized that I couldn't just curl into a ball and hope I disappeared like I wanted to. Things were happening to me, changing me. I wasn't sure if it was for the better, but the fact remained that the change was happening. If one didn't like their life, but they had no way to change it, they had to accept it.

And by the Nine, I'd make this change my bitch.

Hiemdall seemed to notice my newfound resolve over the days we'd travelled. Milos, maybe. We'd barely spoken, but we both knew we'd have to sit down and talk it out soon. We were just preparing ourselves for the inevitable. Still, Milos' presence meant the world to me. He may have left, but he came back, and that was what mattered.

With my resolve in place, we hurried to Rorikstead and stopped once in Whiterun. The Companions had returned to Jorrvaskr and Hiemdall took a formal leave of absence from them to join me with the intention of returning once we'd finished whatever mission we were on. He left Aela in charge while he was gone. After buying some thinner-lined clothes (and more fitting ones for me) for the trek to the Reach, we hurried to Rorikstead.

Cha'qim met us on the road by the Western Watchtower and Fort Greymoor and led us there, despite the signs that pointed the way. Everyone was waiting there, and they had my equipment with them. I was looking forward to having a sword at my side and a bow in my hand again.

"The rest are waiting at the Frostfruit Inn," Cha'qim told us as we entered the bounds of the small and quaint settlement. "This one is very relieved to see the end of the journey in sight."

"We'll take a day to rest and then continue to Karthspire," I told the Khajiit. "How many beds are here?"

"Cha'qim counted four."

"Not enough for us all then..."

"I have bedrolls," Milos piped up (and kind of shocked me. No, not about the bedrolls; that he spoke at all!). He dug into his pack and then presented me with two tightly-rolled bedrolls.

"Thanks," I replied, and then turned to Cha'qim. "Okay, lead on."

Cha'qim took us past a single house before we were on the porch of the Frostfruit Inn. It had the typical layout of an inn and seemed reminiscent of the Sleeping Giant Inn at Riverwood (but I was pretty sure that it didn't have a secret passage like Delphine's). A fire was flickering at its middle, torches lined the walls, and there were plenty of seats to eat and drink. Only two people were inside the inn; both were Nords, although one was much younger than the other.

The older Nord with thinning grey hair and a stippled beard was leaning against the counter at the far side of the inn. When he noticed us, he shook his head.

"We ain't got any rooms left," he called. "They've been taken. Sorry."

I noticed a shadow moving behind him, and grinned when I realized that it was Aldren in his Dark Brotherhood robes. The cowl he usually wore concealed his face, but not the smirk on his lips.

"They are our comrades," Aldren said to the Nord.

He stiffened and jumped a few feet in the air, startled by the Dunmer that had appeared behind him. "Gods-dammit! Stop doing that! Haven't I already told you?!"

"Apologies, Mralki," Aldren replied in a playful tone (or as playful as a Dark Brotherhood assassin could get). "I forgot."

Mralki was muttering Nordic curses under his breath as Aldren came up to meet us. Cha'qim grinned her cat-like grin and escaped into one of the rooms.

"Nice to see you're all intact. Thought those Vargrs had killed you for sure." Aldren's smile was unnerving, but I was used to it. "Feeling all right, Greystone?"

"A little sleep and some warm food and I'll be myself again," I admitted. "I'm looking forward to getting my weapons, too."

Aldren nodded. "Javin grabbed them. He's got it in his room that he's sharing with me, you and Hiemdall. Milos gets a room to himself, and so does Cha'qim. I can't tell whether Mralki is pleased or annoyed with us for renting his inn."

"Likely a bit of both," Hiemdall remarked.

"No doubt about that," Aldren added. "Anyhow, Greystone, we've already rested up. Take your time. The other night was a nasty one."

I snorted. "Yeah, no kidding..."

Best. Sleep. Ever.

I woke up the next morning without anyone asking me to get up. In fact, everyone was still sleeping. I did, however, learn that Cha'qim had sold my leather armour and placed in a special order for some of her guild's armour. I liked it a lot better, that was for sure, and it was easier to move in. It also came with a hood, so I could obscure my face if we came upon any Thalmor.

When the boots and the bracers were strapped on, I left my new hood down and crept into the main area of the inn. I checked to see what gold I had and decided I had enough for two eggs and some venison, and a bottle of Honningbrew Mead. Frankly, I was excited to eat some good food.

By the time I was done, I was sitting in front of the fire with the bottle of mead in my hand. The door to the inn opened, and the same young Nord man from the previous night stepped inside. It appeared to be raining, because his tunic was wet and his boots were muddy. He walked to the counter, spoke with Mralki, and then paid for an ale and sat near me by the fire.

I caught him glancing at me a few times. I was still very... sensative about my new scar. I didn't like it and it drew some attention. There was a larger chance that I could be spotted by someone working for that fetcher, Arnand Bienne.

"You look like you've seen your share in adventures," the young man commented. "I envy you that."

He was definitely a farmboy. I'd seen my share in Anvil when they'd come to learn to sail. More than half had left when they'd been broken by the stern captains.

"What's your name?" I asked the fair-haired Nord.

He rubbed his small beard. "Erik. I'm Mralki's son." He paused to take a swig of his ale. "Maybe you can help me with something."

"What?"

"I... Well, I want to be an adventurer like you, but my father says I can't. He says he needs me to stay here and work the farm, and even if he did let me be an adventurer, we couldn't afford to buy armour. Can you... change his mind?"

Erik looked at me hopefully. I was reminded of some of the younger kids in Anvil who always had me climb into trees to grab their misplaced toys. Never once figured out how they got up there... "I'll see what I can do."

He looked relieved and smiled into his tankard. "Thank-you. I can't stand the thought of being trapped in this village for the rest of my days."

That had once been my outlook when Milos and I lived in Anvil together. I couldn't wait to leave, but... I never expected to the way I did.

Erik finished his ale and then left the inn at the same time Javin got up, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. His beard was out of sorts, but his cornrows were still in place. His dark eyes twinkled when he smiled at me.

Taking a seat beside me, Javin asked, "So, how are you feeling, girl?"

"All right," I replied, taking a sip of my mead.

"Good, good... May I pry?"

"You may."

"Thank-you." Javin ran his fingers through his beard in an effort to straighten it. "What was it like? The... The transforming bit?"

I smirked at him. "It hurt to Oblivion and back."

"And how did it feel?"

"Didn't I just answer that?"

Javin shook his head. "No no no! I mean the battle of your mind! Not just of the physical body!"

"Oh..." I drank some more mead, downing it quickly to answer. "Well, I don't know. For a bit, it was like I just... I wanted to rip something apart. But if you really think about it, I want to do that every other day. I haven't even got a clear idea of how I fought it off for so long. I just remember struggling to keep myself sane. And then... Hiemdall told me to just let go and stop fighting... Then I just wasn't there anymore. I can only describe it to be like walking through a dark room—and I mean the kind where you can't even see your hand four centimetres in front of your face! It was like trying to find a way through the room or for some source of light. And when it all ended, I was 'me' again."

Javin nodded slowly. "Mhm. Yes. I'd asked Hiemdall about how it was like for him. His is vastly different. I imagine it's the same for all of the Companions. But you're hereditary. You can't do anything about your nature. They had a choice."

"Lucky bastards..." I finished up my mead and then placed the bottle by my seat, staring into the fire. "Well, I can't let something like this stop me. As far as I'm concerned, there's another part of me that hasn't seen the light of day for most of my years of life. It was suppressed by my Dragon Blood, and now that it's finally free to come out on days that Masser is full (because I'm not even sure about how it reacts to Secunda), I intend to let it."

"No more fighting?"

"Nope."

"What changed your mind?"

I paused, and then began wringing my hands together. "I just thought... Well, what if I was in its position? What if I was trapped with only a small chance to escape? Of course I'd take it, no questions asked. And I sure as hell wouldn't want someone standing in my way." I smiled. "There's a way to get through this. If this is going to be my life, then I can handle it. I can do it."

"I assume that it isn't only on full moons though," Javin offered thoughtfully. "Remember Stom? He threatened you, and even though it was delayed, you began to turn. I assume that when there's a threat of an unknown Werewolf you will feel it coming. Like in Jorrvaskr."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Hiemdall. Anyhow, the Circle are all Werewolves, and you only just met them. You had no knowledge of them. They were a threat the way they were following you, too. The second time (when I made that potion that helped very little, if at all), it was simply delayed; you didn't know that part of Hiemdall, either. Aela appearing as a Werewolf later forced it out and to act."

I rubbed my head. "Wait, how'd you know—?"

"Hiemdall. In the cabin, remember? Everyone had a little heart-to-heart?"

"Right... And what about Aela—? No, never mind. I'm pretty sure I know the answer."

"Hiemdall."

"Bingo." I rubbed my temples. "Okay, so stay away from hostile Werewolves (especially since they've probably never seen a female in a long time, like Stom), and mark Masser's full phase in my calendar. Got it."

Javin smiled encouragingly. "It'll be fine, you know. Especially with the attitude you're facing it with."

I grinned at him. "Yeah. Now, the only thing that could possibly make my week any worse is a—."

"DRAGON!" Erik barrelled into the inn, nearly knocking the door from its hinges. "Dragon! I-It came from the ground! And there was this huge black one, but it flew away!"

I leapt to my feet and sprinted to my room to grab my weapons. I strapped on the belt that held the sheathe for my ebony sword, slung on my quiver of steel arrows and grabbed my ebony bow. Javin was yelling for the others to get up as I sprinted to the door.

"I want to—!"

"No!" I told Erik firmly. "Stay inside, whatever you do!"

He looked a bit dejected, but I didn't wait to argue with him. I was out the door and emerged into the rain to see a Dragon perched on the inn. It was about as large as the ones we'd seen before, but had orange scales and dark, curved horns.

The Dragon roared and then spat fire at me. I ducked out of the way, slipping through the mud, and then nocked an arrow into my bow. When I fired and hit the Dragon, it merely growled in agitation.

"Nahagliiv," I murmured.

The Dragon launched itself from the roof and spread its wings, momentarily shielding me from the rain, and then it banked to come around, spitting frost from its maw. Javin appeared and conjured a fireball that smacked the side of Nahagliiv's head and diverted its frost breath from me. I took that time to fire another arrow at the passing Dragon, and managed to hit its underbelly.

That made him a little angrier. Some Whiterun guards began following my example once the townspeople were in their homes and fired arrows as well, and even Cha'qim joined in after grabbing a bow from a dead guard.

"He's coming in low!" Hiemdall yelled to us. "Milos! Get your damn blade out!"

"I've got it! I've got it!" Milos and Hiemdall ran to the centre of town, readying their greatswords. The Dragon swooped downward, and as they swung their blades it beat its wings for height and slapped the two around with its tail. "Don't got it!"

"Javin! Throw a fireball at its ass!" I yelled at the Redguard.

He shrugged at my order and did as I asked. It hit right on target, and Nahagliiv roared in anger, turning its head to look at us.

"HEY! NAHAGLIIV!" I shouted at it, and then gave it the one-fingered salute. "HIN MONAH! YOUR MOTHER!"

Nahagliiv roared in anger, spun in the air, and dove for me.

"What in Oblivion did you say to it?!" Milos exclaimed.

I began running the opposite way of the Dragon. "I insulted its mother!"

Nahagliiv was low enough that he attempted to catch me in his claws, but I managed to duck out of the way and grab onto his leg. He beat his wings to gain height in the sky until we were high above Rorikstead. I slowly and very carefully climbed onto the back of the Dragon and sank my ebony blade into its hide. Nahagliiv's roar of pain was probably heard all the way to Riften, and he dove in an attempt to get me off. I held on for dear life to my sword and prayed to the Nine that I'd live through the encounter.

And then my sword twisted in a way Nahagliiv didn't agree with, and he smashed hard into the ground. I was flung from him, sword still in hand, and landed roughly on my back. I laid there for a moment, trying to stop my head from ringing, and then noticed the Dragon's open mouth above me.

I shoved my sword upward, into his mouth and through his brain. Nahagliiv screeched and shook his head violently, swinging me back and forth until my sword came free. Still, he stumbled around and then came to a stop, dead.

I slowly stood, my ears ringing in pain from the abrupt changes in altitude, and then I was slammed forward onto my face as Nahagliiv's soul slammed into me. I skidded against the dirt and the rocks and eventually came to a stop, remaining immobile until the heat of the soul dimmed.

Ugh... I groaned. I should have just stayed down... I need to expect it more.

Then again, who really fought Dragons often?

Someone grabbed me and yanked me onto my knees. When I managed to stand and dust myself off, I saw that it was Mralki.

"You... I'd like to talk to you about your son—."

"Haha! The Dragon's dead!" Javin cheered behind me. "Go back from whence you came!"

I sighed and shook my head. "We'll talk later," I promised the Nord.

Never a dull moment.