31 Last Seed 4E201, Falkreath
Narri reached up, not quite touching the slender blade hanging from a peg on the wall. "It's beautiful."
"That it is," said Ivar, smiling and caressing her soft skin with one hand.
All the candles had been extinguished, but the room remained full of soft light. It sufficed to reveal the girl sharing Ivar's bed, throwing interesting shadows across her generous curves. The illumination came from a jewel set into the hilt of the sword, shining with the warm, golden light of the sun.
"Does it have a name?"
"Dawnbreaker. It's a thing of the daedra. A gift from Meridia."
Her eyes flew to his, wide with surprise. "How did you come by it?"
"Well. That's a very long story . . ."
Ivar stood in the mist, not far from the town gates, peering about. He set his fingers to the corners of his mouth and whistled loudly.
Footfalls in the mist.
A dog: large, raw-boned, shaggy. It walked up to the smith and sat down.
"Well hello, boy."
"Hello!"
Ivar blinked in surprise. "You talk?"
"Hmm. Skyrim is host to giant, flying lizards and two-legged cat-men, and you're surprised by me? Yes. I talk! And I will continue to do so."
"Fair enough. There's a smith in the town who wants a dog . . ."
"Oh no. I don't belong to any mortal. My master is Clavicus Vile, a prince of the daedra, and I want to return to him. Will you help me?"
"If I say no?"
"Then I suppose I'll be your dog. Following you everywhere. Needing to be fed and walked at all hours. Barking at the most inconvenient moments. You get the picture."
Ivar sighed. "All right, let's get you to your master."
"Thank you! Only . . . when you see him, don't trust anything he offers you."
"Noted."
"Well, I don't actually want Barbas back. No, I'm afraid you will have to keep him."
"I have no use for a dog, my lord, and he seems attached to you."
"Ah well. I suppose we can make a deal. Yes! A deal! Go and bring me . . . an axe! But not just any old axe. I want the Rueful Axe, and will accept no substitutes! Bring it to me, and I will take Barbas back. Even if he does tend to shed all over the place . . . and bark, and push. Watch out for the pushing!"
Cut, bruised, burned, exhausted, Ivar lowered his weapon and stood over the renegade mage's body.
This is getting to be too much. Divines witness, I'm just a smith.
Barbas barked. The dog looked indecently intact, not a hair out of place.
"Yes, yes. Let's search for that axe your master insisted on finding."
A short search recovered the Rueful Axe, but Ivar remained unsatisfied. A few minutes more revealed a locked chest. Ivar made short work of the lock. Gold, finely crafted steel blades, and . . .
Hmm. What's this?
A strange artifact, carved out of some white stone, in the shape of an elaborate geometric solid. Ivar reached out to touch it . . .
"At last! Another hand touches the beacon!"
Ivar groaned.
Can't I finish one quest before the gods decide to drop another on my head?
"Damn you, Barbas! Stop pushing!"
The dog cocked his head with a quizzical look.
"Come shoving up behind me once more, and I swear by the Nine, I will chain you to a tree. You nearly pushed me right off the side of the mountain that time."
"Woof!"
One last room . . . full of horrible shades, like scraps of blackest night given form.
Talos best and most mighty. How do I fight these?
Fortunately Barbas had no qualms. The hound charged, snarling and barking, leaping at the shades, tearing at them with his fangs. They swarmed about him and ignored the man standing in the doorway.
Well. Good thing the hound is all but indestructible.
Ivar drew his bow and began to choose his shots with care.
High above Skyrim, in company with the Prince of the Dawn.
"You have done well, my servant. My temple is clean once more. Take you now my sword. Carry it with you, use it to smite undead and all who fear the light, and proclaim my name to the world."
Ivar nodded in agreement, enjoying the feel of the sword in his hand. "I will, great prince."
Just so you put me down on my feet once more.
Another dizzying whirl, and he found himself standing by the daedra's shrine once more. Barbas looked up at him, the dog's tongue lolling with idiot glee.
"Come on, boy. Time to take you home."
The hound barked happily.
"So, what will it be? The hound or the axe?"
"You offer to let me keep this axe, if I will murder your hound to get it."
"That's the deal."
"The Rueful Axe, which has never brought any of its owners anything but grief."
Silence.
"I am sorry, my lord. You may keep the axe, and I'm afraid you will have to keep the hound as well."
"Hah! Well, it was worth a try. Come, Barbas!"
The hound looked up at Ivar, a kindly light in his eyes. "Thank you, smith. Good luck with you."
Ivar waved, but the beast was already gone.
Strange, he thought as he prepared for the walk back to Falkreath. As annoying as that animal was, I find I will miss him.
". . . and so, that's how I came to carry Dawnbreaker."
Ivar looked down. Narri lay wrapped around him, one arm and one leg thrown across his body, her head on his shoulder, fast asleep. Light fell across her shape, not from the sword, but from the morning sun shining through the window. The only sound was a dainty snore.
He shook his head in fond exasperation. "Well. I told you it was a long story."