Chapter 38: Dragon Time: Battle for Windhelm

The figure of General Tullius loomed over the rocky, mountainous land of the Reach. He was standing on a wide stone ledge which was spreading like a stage above the valley where a crowd of innumerous people was waiting. Or, to be precise, they were supposed to be waiting, Gulum-Ei, who was watching the whole scene, thought sardonically. His idea of waiting did not quite apply to the rowdy swarm of men who were shouting and screaming, brawling with each other or simply pounding their chests. They were mostly covered in pelts, some of them wearing antler crowns or helmets, and all of them had their bodies painted in rich colors. Gulum-Ei smirked in amusement, watching the Imperial General march back and forth disconcertedly. He was quite curious about how this man was going to deal with the situation. Still, the fact that he had not given up so far was commendable already.

"I am here," a voice announced. Both Tullius and Gulum-Ei turned to face Madanach, the king of the Forsworn, who arrived with more grace than one would have expected of the leader of the infamous Madmen of the Reach. "I don't understand what you want from me, General."

"I did not ask you to come for nothing," Tullius smiled, and Gulum-Ei watched that grin sourly. "I'm going to lead your men now, but you're the one they trust. It is only right that you stand by my side when I talk to them."

"If you think so," Madanach sighed.

"Tell me, Your Highness. What is it that these men desire? Is it glory? Fame? Prosperity?"

"None of these matter to the Forsworn," the king replied. "History should be your guide. After all, these men are originally Nords."

Tullius nodded. He looked around, examining the land, his eyes sliding over the surrounding mountains in slow motion. Then he studied the valley below, and finally his gaze turned to himself, scrutinizing his own armor. He wiped away a leaf which had stuck to his sleeve and cleared his throat.

"People of the Reach," he addressed the crowd in a clear voice. Gulum-Ei nodded appreciatively as the General's words carried over the valley and echoed in the mountains on the other side. The wind was his ally and Gulum-Ei was certain that Tullius was aware of it. The men in the valley raised their heads, some more eagerly and some less, but they all did. The Argonian shook his head. It did not even take a full sentence. "We are gathered here today to prepare for the bright tomorrow. Tomorrow, we take the Reach. Tomorrow, we initiate our march on Markarth."

There was a lukewarm reception to his words, but Tullius did not seem discouraged. He paused for a brief moment before continuing. "His Highness, King Madanach, has entrusted me with leading you to the battle. You might question why he did that, but I assure you that this time, victory is the only way. We will not fight for the mere joy from the battle, nor will we fight just so we don't stay idle. Tomorrow, we fight for victory!"

A few voices raised and scattered cheers issued from the crowd, but the reaction was still somewhat dissatisfying. At least that was what Gulum-Ei thought, but the Imperial General still did not seem to mind at all.

"This time, we join our forces to chase out our enemy. They will pay for what they did to Skyrim, and the land will be free again. You will gain your freedom, with everything that goes with it. The Reach will be yours!"

Gulum-Ei blinked and gave the General an intense, pensive look. Suddenly, a storm of cheers arose from the crowd. He had finally gained their trust. Tullius sidestepped and took Madanach's hand, raising it in the air. Another wave of cheers echoed through the valley. They believed the General's words completely.

A long, detailed explanation on the invasion plan followed and Gulum-Ei only listened to it partially, for he was never good with war, battles or strategy. The only thing which he found slightly interesting was the fact that Tullius was serious about organizing this lot, and to the Argonian's amazement, no one seemed to oppose him. When the crowd had finally grown restless again, Tullius ceased his speech and left the natural stage with his back straightened and his eyes only looking forward. He beckoned to Gulum-Ei without meeting his gaze, and the lizard man followed him hesitantly. They entered a shallow cave on the side of the ledge and Tullius seated himself on a temporary stone bench, propping his back against the wall behind him.

"So?" he asked.

The Argonian raised a brow and said nothing.

"What do you think?" the General asked with an undertone of impatience in his voice.

"About what?"

"My speech, of course."

"It was… impressive," Gulum-Ei said with a wide smile.

"Impressive? That's all?"

"Then what do you want to hear, General?"

"Let's see… yes, this. What do you think of my promise to give them the Reach?"

Damn you, Tullius, so this is where you're going with it? Did you say that to gain their attention or to corner me? Gulum-Ei thought angrily. Nevertheless, he kept his innocent look and the corners of his mouth stayed curled up. "It was nice. Very skillful wording. I'm sure it made quite an impression."

Tullius pressed his lips tightly together and gave him a thoughtful look. After a moment of gazing at each other, the General spoke again. "Is that so," he said simply. And without another word, he rose from his seat and left the room. Gulum-Ei stared at him apprehensively.

A few moments after, he spotted the Imperial in the company of the former Jarl of Solitude. Deciding not to take any risks, he carefully scanned his surroundings, sneaking silently past the Forsworn guards and a few Imperials who were staying at a safe distance from the savage Madmen. The road led him to a stony hollow where he hid behind a group of rocks, straining his ears for the conversation which was certain to follow. And surely, just as he settled down, he heard Elisif's voice.

"Tullius, this is very risky. If a bandit group finds us here…"

"There are no bandits nowadays, Elisif," Tullius brushed her off. "The only prey roaming the land would be the Thalmor, and not even they are so foolish as to pick a fight with them. And the Thalmor won't come here. They have no reason to."

"So?" she said reluctantly. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Calm yourself, Elisif. I have a special task for you. You'll finally get to be useful, as you wished."

"What is it?"

"I need you to use your charms and get on the good side of that Argonian."

"Gulum-Ei? You want me to flirt with a dumb Argonian?" Her voice was full of outrage.

"You don't need to flirt with him, just make him trust you. And don't let yourself be fooled, he's not half as dumb as he looks."

"Why, Tullius? Why must we resort to this?"

"Because he knows more than he should. If he tries to–"

"Please, can we not do this? He's trying to help us…"

"You know far too well that his kind only ever helps themselves," Tullius said patiently. "Elisif, this is important. I need you to do something in case he turns against us."

"What is it, Tullius?" Elisif sighed in resignation.

"Kill him."

Several hundreds of tents stood empty among the trees on the southern side of Eastmarch as their occupants, clad in the yellow armors of the Whiterun hold, picked up their weapons and ranked into smaller units under their captains' command. Jarl Balgruuf watched as they marched, the field of yellow slowly mixing with Riften's purple. Some of them were operating war machines, mostly trebuchets, but there were also a few ballistae. Farengar was hopping merrily around a cannon he had devised himself, although Balgruuf prayed that he would not have to use it. He sighed, remembering Aislinn's performance during the Battle for Whiterun. Single-handedly she had been able to turn the tides in his favor. Oh how he wished she could be there with him and demonstrate her dance of death again, making the waves of enemies fall before her as she Shouted in the rhythm of her pace. But he would have to manage without her this time, knowing that she was trying her best to save Skyrim somewhere else, alone or with just a handful of friends. He did everything he could think of to encourage his men, and Legate Marcus did the same, but he could see there was still insecurity in his ranks, and it increased every day that they had to wait for the upcoming battle. Soon, the waiting would be over and they would finally march on Windhelm, but would the men last even a few hours? Would they have the will to hold up and seize the city?

He put on his armor and readied himself. Were it up to him, he would stand at the foremost of his army, commanding it forward in a voice clear as the skies above and full of hope. But of course Proventus and Irileth would not let him. That was what they were there for in the end, so he could hardly blame them.

"Ready?" Proventus's voice came from behind when Balgruuf strapped his sword to his waist and a sturdy steel shield with a relief of the Whiterun horse in its middle to his back.

"How could I ever be ready for this?" the Jarl sighed and his steward laughed bitterly.

"Marcus sent a courier earlier. We're waiting for a signal, apparently. I thought we were sending a herald."

"To meet the Thalmor?" Balgruuf snorted. "That's pure folly, my friend. He wouldn't make it past the White River."

"All right," Proventus nodded slowly. "So here is Marcus's plan."

He explained in detail what the courier had told him, with Balgruuf nodding after each sentence of his in silence.

"Balgruuf," Proventus said at last, looking at the Jarl with concern. The Nord stopped his motion and looked at him. "You only need to think about the battle right now. It's not like you can do anything to help the Dragonborn. Or anyone else."

"I know… I know but it's hard not to think about it. Even if we win this battle, what if she doesn't come back? Or what if they get all the other cities meanwhile?"

The steward put his hands on Balgruuf's shoulders firmly, looking into his light blue eyes. "There is no if in this equation, Balgruuf. We go and win. We take Windhelm today. And that's all that matters for now."

"All right," said the Jarl, exhaling deeply. "Let's go then."

They paced quickly through the camp, making their way to an elevated area before the gathered soldiers. Marcus, along with two of his men, was waiting for them there, as well as Irileth. Proventus beckoned to Balgruuf, inviting him to step beside them.

"This is where you shine," he said with a wide grin. Balgruuf grimaced sourly.

"At times like this, I wished I had some of Ulfric's love for attention," he sighed. "Gods know he loved speeches."

"A dog is only truly loyal to its master, they say," Proventus countered with a wink. "You're you, Ulfric was Ulfric. He loved speeches. You love justice. Fight for what you love."

"I think I'll charge you with writing a chronicle when this is all over," Balgruuf snorted. "Maybe you'll spare me your wisdom when it's all used up in the text."

"By all means," Proventus bowed. "Anything to spur my imagination further."

The Jarl groaned and joined his housecarl and the Imperial Legate waiting for him on the hill. They both nodded and he responded with a nod of his own, turning to face the restless crowd. Without a warning, Legate Marcus stepped closer and raised his hand, causing the army to burst in a storm of cheers. Surprisingly, the men from Riften cheered both louder and longer than Balgruuf's army, and he felt slightly ashamed of the fact. He frowned a little but suppressed it immediately, hoping that no one had noticed it. He took a deep breath.

"Thank, you, Marcus," he said, waving in the general direction of the crowd. "And thank you, all of you who have gathered here today to fight for your homeland. Every single one of you is going to write history today. On this day, we take Windhelm, which was unjustly taken away by the menace known as the Thalmor. The day we all have been waiting for has finally come, the hour is nigh and soon, the air with fill with our battle cry and the stench of our sweat and blood. And we will gladly give both to save our land. We will fight to the last man, for there is no other way for us than victory. And on this day, I say these words to you. For freedom! For Skyrim! For Talos!"

Balgruuf drew his sword and raised it high up in the air in one swing and every man followed him, shouting now proudly "For freedom! For Skyrim! For Talos!"

Marcus smiled at the mention of Talos's name. Balgruuf assumed the Imperial Legate had not expected him to use his name, being brought up to absolute Talos abstinence, but he knew far too well that it had been a long time since the proud Nords of Skyrim could fearlessly call to their god, and they had missed him dearly. Now this time of divine loneliness was over. They would fight with his name on their lips and his spirit by their side. In the end, they still had a dragon to shield them. He smiled to himself.

Soon after, the army split and the small units of yellow and purple scattered around. At the front were a number of footmen in heavy armor carrying large shields to protect the light-armored soldiers behind them. At their center a number of people carried a large battering ram. At the sides of their unit were archers and swordsmen, ready to charge at the first sight of an elf. Two other units split from the main body and headed to the sides, rounding the city in a wide circle. Three other units in light armor designed for swimming positioned themselves between the deserted stables and the Brandy-Mug Farm, their eyes fixed on the docks on the other side of the river, where a number of hooded figures and a few elven men in gilded armors stood at the ready. The army slowly moved around the city, staying just outside of the firing range, and a few groups of men readied their war machines. While Balgruuf waited on the road leading southward, shielded by rocks and his own elite unit, Marcus settled by the Hlaalu farm, both ready to give orders when necessary. Several more units were lined up in the adjacent valleys and hollows as a reserve.

Everyone stilled themselves, waiting. Tension was in the air. The alliance of Nords and Imperial soldiers was gazing at the impenetrable walls of Windhelm, feeling the elven eyes upon them. They were barely breathing, watching every movement with unease. Time passed and the sun made its way high up on the sky. Balgruuf felt a streak of sweat brush his brow and course down his cheek and frowned. He could almost feel his men's morale fading. They had to attack soon, or there would be no courage left in their hearts. On the other hand, the weather was a welcome news. It gave them tremendous advantage since the elves would always have to face the sun.

He looked to the skies above the city, as blue as his eyes, rippled by a few scattered cloudlets of white. The silence and anxiety threatened to crush him, more so when he noticed that even the birds had retreated from the sky. He furrowed his brows. The beasts of Skyrim were no fools and they had the ability to sense a forthcoming battle, but even then, there were always the crows and falcons flying far above the shooting range of any weapon, and the scavengers, cautiously waiting for their chance. This time, not a single bird was around, not a single flap of the wings could be heard. It was too quiet. Something was wrong.

He turned to Irileth at the same moment she turned to him, both opening their mouths to speak up, but before they could, several things happened at once.

The air above Windhelm burst in yellow light, but Balgruuf did not even need to remember what it meant as a dragon flew past the mountain shielding its northern edge, leaving behind a wide trail of steam. Still, it was yellow, not red. Something made Karliah, the Dunmer informant who was charged with signaling them, as he had been told, believe they could still win the battle.

The soldiers cried out and he could hear from afar that Marcus started singing. His men joined him quickly and the Jarl smiled. In the short time that he had known the Legate, he had learnt to respect him greatly for his ability to keep his men in good spirits. He always walked proud and spoke with confidence, firmly but kindly at the same time. He was not afraid to step out of his comfort zone and abandon his warm baths and quality meals to show his men that he too could endure, but still drew a clear line between himself and his subordinates. He was what Balgruuf would describe as an ideal leader. Before he knew it, even the Jarl was singing, his voice carrying through the valley and encouraging the now advancing men.

A cone of fire shot at the units closest to the bridge leading to the main gate, and a volley of arrows supported it. The soldiers raised their shields to protect themselves, but they could barely stop the dragon magic from causing damage. The men screamed and a few ran around in chaos, some ablaze.

"My Jarl," Irileth spoke urgently. "What are your orders?"

"The men must not give up," Balgruuf said sternly. "Tell Farengar he needs to do something about the magic. We knew from the beginning what we stand against, a dragon shouldn't be much worse than a number of mages. He'll have some tricks up his sleeve."

"A number of flying mages," Irileth scowled. "All right, I'm on it."

"Be careful," Balgruuf nodded and watched the Dunmer scurry away. Soon after, a group of men in light hide armors bustled around and spread in the wide area. These were Farengar's elite runners with little fighting potential, but incredibly mobile and flexible. The mage had been preparing for this day more intensely than anyone else and Balgruuf hoped it was well worth it. It seemed to him as though he had been gathering all sorts of magical trinkets and pretty much anything that could contain magic, but their purpose remained a mystery to the Jarl. He knew little about magic and preferred to leave the arcane matters to his friend. He watched the runners with interest as they zigzagged through the battlefield and dodged whatever blow came their way. Then, his eyes found the waiting elves on the watchtowers and the raised platforms on the sides of the bridge, still and on the alert. He bit his lip and turned to Proventus.

"Let the men know they are to attack the elves. Ignore the dragon, Farengar will deal with it."

"Balgruuf, this is madness," Proventus opposed. "That beast will burn them alive and…"

"Look at them, Proventus. They are waiting until we wear ourselves out while they do nothing. If we try to kill the beast first, they're going to have the advantage and they know it. Strike when the iron is hot. They're expecting us to be preoccupied with the dragon. Let's prove them wrong."

The steward sighed and shook his head in resignation. "I hope you know what you're doing, my friend. There are no second chances when it comes to war."

Balgruuf decided not to answer to that. Deep inside, he was thinking the same thing, but to express it would mean to reveal he was indeed risking the lives of his men. Could anyone ever admit such a thing openly?

Proventus rushed into the fray to inform the generals of the new plan while Farengar's men finally settled around the place. The Jarl watched as they spread their arms, all of them holding a shiny object in each of their hands. Without much thinking, Balgruuf knew these were soul gems, filled with magical power to amplify the spell Farengar was about to cast. The wizard himself was standing in a magic circle made of glittering soul gem dust, and all around him were gleaming scribbles in the Daedric script. He raised his hands and closed his eyes, and for a while the tips of his fingers glowed in soft yellow light. Then, the circle around him burst in white flames which shot in all directions, connecting to the soul gems in the runners' hands and then creating a glowing cage above the soldiers' heads. Suddenly, the fire coming from the depths of the dragon's maw was reflected back, hitting the very beast who had produced it. It roared, more in anger than in pain, and backed away slightly. Balgruuf's eyes widened when it advanced on the soldiers again, unwillingly as if pushed by an invisible force. On the second thought, it seemed more like it was running away from something in the city. Whatever the elves used to control it, the beast did not like it. The Jarl felt his muscles tense up.

Irileth appeared by his side shortly, panting and covered in dust and even tiny splatters of blood but seemingly content. "That old grump is not bad at all," she said in appreciation. "Hopefully, this will give the men a bit of courage."

"I don't want to see what's going to happen if the runners are taken down though," Balgruuf said, watching the battlefield. The first line struck at the bridge and the first elf was shot down from one of the watchtowers, but at the same time, one Whiterun archer was badly wounded while a footman on the front line fell to the feet of an elven mage who only smirked in satisfaction before seeking another opponent. Balgruuf's hand reached to his waist and squeezed the hilt of his sword. How he hated just watching.

"That won't be so easy," Irileth smiled. "According to Farengar, they can move however they need once the shield is formed."

Balgruuf nodded, his eyes not leaving the battlefield for a second. The elves were pushed back slowly but surely, but the dragon above their heads was relentless and it seemed to the Jarl that the shield was slowly weakening. He did not know much about dragons and so he could not tell whether the reflected fire was weaker than it had originally been or the dragon's resistance against it was that high, but it did not change the fact that the beast did not take much damage from it. It worried him. If all Farengar's efforts were to be wasted on a dragon, they had no chance of fending off the elven mages.

First soldiers in yellow managed to break through the enemy lines and make their way up to the bridge platforms, charging at the elves. The Thalmor, however, did not seem to mind them at all. Those who were still standing simply took a dive into the cold waters below, causing the Nords and Imperials to stagger and bump into each other in surprise. Many of them paid for the moment of carelessness with their lives as the archers and mages in the enemy backlines fired at them immediately. Balgruuf cussed in his head. That was a smart move from the elves. Of course they would be able to swim in their robes and light armors, while his own men could not risk the possibly deadly fall. He should have taken this into account.

The battle was lengthy and exhausting. The sun was way over its midpoint when the allied armies of Whiterun and Riften managed to close on the enemy, but it felt wrong. It seemed as though the elves always managed to lure the invaders to a place where they wanted them and evaded their attacks skillfully, slowly driving them towards the city. Farengar's magic grew weaker too as he started to run out of soul gems and other trinkets filled with magic. A heavy lump settled in Balgruuf's throat. He turned to Irileth and expressed his fears. She let out a weary sigh.

"I'm not sure if we can fight elves in the way of the Nords," she said. "We have our pride and justice, but they won't care about that. Elves are still elves, no matter what color their skin is, and I was around them long enough to learn that they would do anything to achieve what they want. And when I say anything, I mean anything. Scheming, tricks, plotting and deceit, it's all in their blood. Most of the Nords find these things repulsive, but sometimes it might not be so bad to learn the ways of your enemy."

"I could never…" Balgruuf said with his eyes wide in disbelief.

"I'm not saying you should be like them," the housecarl shook her head. "But you could learn how to think like them in order to defeat them."

The Jarl exhaled deeply, his fingers sliding along the hilt of his sword. "I will… think about it." He looked up and frowned with worry when the magical shield above shook unsteadily. "Irileth, go and form a unit of archers from our reserves. That dragon needs to be dealt with as soon as possible," he ordered.

"As you command, my Jarl," she replied with a theatrical bow. Balgruuf grimaced.

The housecarl trotted among the soldiers, seeking the spare units. She called to the archers, separating them from the rest and leading them forward. After positioning themselves by the river bank, a volley of arrows fired from their bows directly at the dragon who roared with pain and anger. The shield reflected its onslaught and the beast was not foolish enough to swoop down among the many soldiers which would surely mean its death. It started flying around frantically, but for some reason it avoided getting close to the city.

At the same moment, Balgruuf's men finally broke through the elven defenses on the bridge and climbed up on the platforms, throwing ropes down to the rest of the unit who quickly tied them to the battering ram. Down at the river, a few groups of Imperial supporters were fighting elves in gilded armors in attempt to enable their comrades to set up more sieging devices. Men in purple were slowly moving the trebuchets towards the city on the east side of the bridge, shielding themselves from the attacks of the elves waiting in the docks. An occasional salve of arrows came at the hooded figures in reply, but the Thalmor easily blocked them with their wards.

Balgruuf watched as three elves, one of them dark-skinned, separated themselves from the rest of the fighting group under the bridge and darted westward. They barely paid attention to their surroundings, shielding themselves with protective spells and dodging most of the incoming attacks. Then, all three of them raised their hands at once and fired a spell. Balgruuf's eyes followed their designated path and his eyes widened.

"Godsdammit, no!" he cried out in horror. "Irileth!"

He drew his sword at once, grabbed his shield and flew like an arrow towards his housecarl. Men around him started shouting and calling his name, but he ignored them. Almost miraculously he dodged two incoming fire bolts and squeezed by two Breton men in purple fighting against a few Thalmor, his eyes fixed on his Dunmer friend who collapsed as her leg was pierced by an ice spike. He jumped to her and caught the next one with his shield.

"For the love of Talos, Balgruuf, get out of here!" Irileth yelled, clenching her fists and hissing in pain.

"Not even if Oblivion comes!" he shouted in reply.

"For gods' sake, I'm your housecarl! I'm supposed to protect you!"

"And you're also my friend!" he countered and grabbed her arm, rolling to the side as a fire bolt flew past them.

"Balgruuf, please!" Irileth cried. "You can't do anything here!"

"Let's get out of here!" He put her arm around his shoulders and started walking away, towards his own unit where Irileth originally belonged, but as soon as they did, two arrows were fired in their direction. Balgruuf's eyes widened as Irileth sent him to the ground, covering him with her own body. Before he even touched the cold rock below, the arrows buried themselves in her back and their tips emerged on the other side of her body, one through her neck, the other through her chest. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Balgruuf stared at her, holding his breath. The next few moments seemed like eternity to him. He stretched out his hands as her body fell on his, pressing her against his chest. This was not true. It could not be.

"Baalgruuf…" Irileth whispered hoarsely and a stream of blood made its way from the corner of her mouth down her cheek.

"No," he shook his head fiercely. "Don't speak. Don't say anything, I'm going to–"

"I'm beyond helping, Balgruuf… just…"

"No…"

"Live…"

"Irileth…"

"…and return my body to the ashes."

"Irileth!"

The housecarl smiled at him. "Finally, I was of some use to you." With that, her body grew heavy, her hands hanging down limply.

"Why…" Balgruuf moaned silently. "Why?!"

Another arrow flew past him. There was no time to think. He let Irileth's body slide down along his. A few smudges of blood appeared on his armor, but he did not mind them. Gripping his sword and his shield tightly, he stood up, facing his enemies. His unit surrounded him shortly with Proventus in the lead, and he beckoned to them to follow him.

"Balgruuf, please," Proventus begged, "do not let her sacrifice be in vain."

"I will not," Balgruuf snarled silently. "She will be avenged. Ten times!"

With that, the Jarl darted forward. He first headed to the three mages who had attacked Irileth first, dodging every shot of theirs with unmatched speed. Proventus was by his side at once, shielding him from side attacks while Balgruuf fought the elves ferociously, dealing one critical blow after another. His startled opponents had little time to resist before they fell into the water with a loud splash. Balgruuf did not stop for a moment after slaying them and proceeded past the bridge. Proventus called to him a few times in attempt to stop him, but the Jarl had gone berserk, beyond any control. The steward let out an exhausted sigh and commanded the unit to group around Balgruuf and protect him from anything that might get in their way.

They stepped on a temporary floating wooden platform Marcus's men had put together a while before and joined the Imperials fighting there. Balgruuf was blind and deaf to anything but his enemies, but his performance was commendable. One after another the Thalmor fell under his blade with him gaining just a few scratches before the platform was clear. The Imperials did not waste any time and moved it towards the docks immediately after. Then, a horrified shriek cut through the air and made even Balgruuf raise his head.

At first, he thought a rain of rocks was coming down on their heads. "Watch out!" he heard someone cry as he put up his shield. The rain fell down and he heard a number of cracks and thuds. Then his eyes rested upon what was lying beneath his feet and like many others, he screamed with horror.

It was a head. Balgruuf turned away before he could think of whose it was, shaking in dread, anger and grief. Everywhere around him, soldiers were shaking their heads violently and backing away. They were losing their hope and resolve, running away from the horrors their enemy had prepared for them. His face twisted in fury and he straightened his back. It would not end like this. He would see to it that it did not.

"Fight, Children of Skyrim!" he called in a strong voice and his words carried to every ally of his. "Fight until the last man standing, fight to avenge your fallen comrades and the men who passed under the cruel rule of the Thalmor. Fight for glory and freedom, so our ancestors in Sovngarde can bear our name proudly! Do not be afraid, for Talos is with us, and he will guide us to victory!"

There was a moment of silence when neither a man nor an elf moved or produced a sound. Even the dragon above seemed to cease its movement and stayed still despite the many injuries it had suffered. And then, as though someone set the time back to motion, everyone moved and roared and the opposing hordes clashed fiercely.

Little time had passed until another distraction came in shape of a second huge winged shadow cast over the fighting swarms of men, Mer and occasional beastfolk. Balgruuf slowly raised his head in apprehension, watching as the weary archers nocked arrows in their bows and narrowed their eyes to take a good aim. He opened his mouth to cuss, but noticed the elves widening their eyes in the same way his own men did. Were they… afraid?

He took a good look at the dragon. It swooped to the ground, heading right in the middle of the battlefield, proud and fearless, and in the afternoon sun, its scales glistened in crimson. A memory flashed before Balgruuf's eyes and he gasped.

"Stop!" he shouted at his men abruptly. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

"Balgruuf, have you gone completely insane?!" Proventus yelled, but the Jarl did not listen. He almost swam through the crowd of people, now mostly still, his gaze fixed on the dragon who dodged a few spells and arrows elegantly, descending in a wide spiral. It went through the shield of magic and sank to a quickly vacated spot by the bridge, its head turned to Balgruuf who had just arrived.

"Long time no see, Jarl Balgruuf," the dragon said and shot what Balgruuf could only describe as a very nasty look at Farengar. The wizard's eyes widened and a hint of shame appeared in his face.

"You're the one we caught when Aislinn…"

"That is correct. And normally, I would try to eat you alive for a sod like that. You should thank the Dovakhiin that I am here at this moment."

"Divines bless her," Balgruuf exhaled. "In the end, I always end up depending on her." Several hundreds of feet from him, the battle began anew.

"Do come aboard," the dragon invited. "The Dovakhiin made it quite clear that the leader of an army should have proper respect in battle. And what better way of gaining respect is there than to have wings and observe the situation from above."

"What? You mean I should… ride you?"

"A joor does not ride a dovah. A dovah kindly permits a joor to sit on his back. Be thankful."

"I, uh… thank you, uh…"

"Odahviing. Remember this name, for it is now a part of your history."

Balgruuf nodded and clumsily climbed Odahviing's side, his hands and feet slipping on the smooth surface of the scales. The dragon let out a sound that closely resembled a snort and the Jarl scowled. A wing curled towards him to help him get on Odahviing's back, and once he was finally seated quite uncomfortably on his neck, the reptile spread his wings and took to the sky. Balgruuf gasped and looked around in awe. He raised his sword and roared inarticulately, and the men on the ground below cheered and charged at their enemies with new vigor. The view from the top was amazing, be it the sunlit mountain peaks with shiny white caps of snow, the shimmering river winding its way through the valleys, the sea that spread on the eastern horizon or the proud city that presented itself in all its glory before him. He smiled. So Aislinn knew this feeling. No wonder she had so much respect for the dragonkind.

"Hold tight, little joor," Odahviing warned him. "We are now going to teach a lesson to the fool who dares to defy the Dovakhiin." And without further delay, he sped up and mounted an assault on the helpless dragon who had just barely managed to rid itself of the attacking archers.

Uff. I'm not good at writing battles. I'm ultimately bad at strategy (or more like I don't know anything about it) so I cheated the chapter as much as I could. I purposely made Balgruuf make many mistakes so he would have the seed of guilt planted in his heart. As for why I'm doing that… well, for the sake of a silly side story of his that you're going to learn later.

Some of you might wonder how Odahviing made it here so fast. Well, it wasn't that fast, actually. He made it in about nine hours from Bruma, which, considering he could fly Aislinn across most of Skyrim within, let's say, five or six hours and from Riften to Bruma in a storm in about four hours, is quite slow. As to when they agreed on him helping in Windhelm, I kind of made myself a backdoor by purposely leaving out the whole conversation before their flight through the storm. So there. :D

Now the question is whether I should include Odahviing's point of view in the following chapters as well. There probably wouldn't be too much of it, but I have thought up several options for writing the next few parts, so I'd like to hear your opinion on that. Do you think it's a good idea? Or should I stick to the joor and leave the dovah's way of thinking a mystery?

As for the title of this chapter, let it be a tribute to TwillinOfTheWillows, my first reviewer who has never failed to comment on a single chapter of this story, always made me happy with her reviews and became somewhat a soulmate to me. This is to you, Twillin, and the dragon time which you always enjoy. ^^

Pietersielie:I'm happy you liked the chapter! And I kind of hope you're not too disappointed by my opinion on Tullius. I just can't bring myself to like the guy, even though I might add a bit of a reason why he's like that in the story. Nothing is ever that simple, is it? :D

Twillin:Yeah, I'm biased as well. I shouldn't, as the author, should I? But I can't help it. And I'm pretty sure people would hate me if anything happened to Farkhali. :D Though she's going to take quite some time recovering from this one…

Jakeice10:I'm sorry I didn't reply to your last comment two chapters ago. I didn't reply to anyone at that time because I just felt horrible, but that's not your fault. So I apologize for the delay. I'm still happy you liked the chapter. :)

As always, thanks dart0808 for the beta. (It's not like I wrote "flied" instead of "flew"… it's not, really! –omgwtfdoessheevenenglish-)

Well then. Thanks for all the reviews, favs and follows. Stay tuned. ^^

Mirwen