"Sister!" Hellina heard in a gleeful, though unfamiliar, voice as she stood in the linen closet on the second floor of their large house. The sounds that emanated from the floor below after that, while they were the product of human voices, were little more than gibberish to Hellina's ears.
"Gods, I do not know how it is that every window in this house survives this high pitched assault," she said as she stepped off of the staircase to observe Eofel and a woman who was much like her in age, and stature, and tone of voice.
"Hellina this is my dear friend Sara. We attended the College of Winterhold together," Eofel said through the over large smile that still adorned her face.
Another daughter of the Thane, Hellina thought as she observed the young woman who wore Apprentice Destruction Mage robes.
"Greetings, Mistress Sara" Hellina said with a small bow, not knowing the proper etiquette or title to use when addressing the daughter of a Thane, "and welcome to our home. We have heard a great deal about you. Eofel speaks of you quite often."
Sara's face bore a smile of similar proportion to her friends as she looked past Eofel to address Hellina.
"Thank you, Madam, for your hospitality, and for employing my adopted sister. I promise you that you will not regret doing so."
"She has already confirmed her place as a valuable member of our community, and several times over at that. But adopted sister," Hellina began as she looked at Sara before returning her gaze to Eofel, "has the Thane...has the Archmage adopted you into his family as well?"
"You know full well that I have both Mother and Farther, Hellina," Eofel said as the two young women looked at each other again, which produced a series of giggles and laughs, "no, it was Sara that adopted me, as I adopted her."
"My father's friend, Tayen, a wise woman from a tribe in a land far away, told us a story when I was still quite young in which The Great Spirit instructs a woman to cherish the family born to you, cherish the sisters you find throughout your life. I took her advice to heart, and put it into practice immediately; though I admit that the first sisters I found while I was still a young child were covered with fur. Eofel and I found each other at the College."
It appeared by the amount and variety of baskets and sacks that Sara had interrupted Eofel while she was moving her remaining belongings from the main house to her own residence.
"It is indeed excellent advice," Hellina said as he eyes took in the amount of belongings that remained to be moved, "and a large family ensures an ample number of hands to assist you with your move."
"Come and see my new home," Eofel said with barely contained excitement as she picked up an armful of her possessions, "it is the most beautiful house in Tamriel."
"I am sure it rivals the Blue Palace itself," Sara answered as she filled her arms, leaving only a small covered basket for Hellina.
The commander of The Silver Hand smiled as she picked up the wicker object, but remained silent.
"It is time we left those people to their fate," Krev said to the collection of men who had remained true or, more accurately, who had not already found and accepted positions with better prospects.
Frik did not believe that such a thing existed for any of the men who remained, neither in Skyrim nor Cyrodiil neither. Both countries had been discussed as a possible destination; both had advantages as well as disadvantages. Cyrodiil was only a real possibility because the winter had not been too harsh, and was almost ended in any case; but Frik feared that they had waited too long, and the approaching warmth and rain would turn the roads to mud, and would make any long journey a miserable one.
For himself, Frik would stay in Skyrim, whatever Krev decided; in Skyrim, but not with Krev. He had just about made up his mind when the Gods saw fit to nudge him, not so gently, well over any imaginary line that might have existed between stay and go. That prod came in the form of two men who, by chance or divine guidance, having just been released from the cells beneath Dragon's Reach, set off on foot directly for Halted Stream Camp to be reunited with their former associates. It so happened that their arrival coincided with Krev's latest attempt to recruit some of those same associates to his cause.
And so it was that Krev learned what became of Hylf.
"We know the man you describe," the older of the pair, who by attitude, appearance, and quality of voice could only be the father of the younger, said after Krev had asked him if they had seen anyone fitting Hylf's description during their stay in Whiterun.
"Wouldn't trade places with that man for all the...whatever in wherever," he said eventually, after realizing that his intellect was not up to the challenge of completing the sentence.
"Them Companions stopped by constantly to threaten him with a slow death, though the method they described in detail changed regularly," the father explained, "but that bald one with the mismatched eyes, he stopped by a lot, and while the others seemed to be just having a bit of fun, he was a serious as Death Herself."
"He wanted to hunt your man, whatever that meant," the son added, "gave me the shivers, it did; and I didn't even know what he was talking about."
"But you man knew what it meant," said the father, "I could see him sweating, even from the other side of the cells."
"But they released him," Krev said, "you said they released him, that they let him live, and let him go."
"Over a month ago, as best as I can reckon," he answered, "maybe a bit longer. Hard to keep track of time in a cell."
"Five weeks, give or take a week," Frik said, virtually the first words he had spoken during the entire exchange.
Krev's face had become a mask of hate as the two men described a Companion that could only be Skjor. Frik was of two minds whether it was best to keep silent, or to act the ignorant, but still loyal, lieutenant.
"Now we know what happened to him," Frik said simply, which only made Krev tighten the muscles in his face even further.
"It was that woman that warned him off eventually," the son said, "the one with the ample figure, and the stripes of paint across her face. She told him if they ever caught him in Whiterun hold or The Pale they would give him to the man with the dodgy eye."
"Aela," Krev said simply.
"That would have had me riding for my life towards the border, and I wouldn't have stopped until I reached Skingrad," the father added, "She was just as scary as he was, beautiful or no."
"Sabercats have been described as beautiful, and terrifying," Frik said, "Krev and I both know the woman you describe. It is an apt description."
The leader of the group of bandits, that were even then welcoming two of their imprisoned fellows back into their squalid fold with an overabundance of drinking and revelry, had been looking for a break in the flow of words so he could share his thoughts.
"You won't get no recruits from us, nor assistance neither. Not if you aim yourselves at them Companions. We don't need that man, or that woman either, coming after us. Your man is fled; if he has a brain in his head he is far from here, and he will not return. My advice to you is to do the same. Find easier targets to hunt. Otherwise you will find yourselves hunted in turn."
It was a silent ride back to their lodgings in Driftshade Refuge. Frik glanced ar Krev several times, but made no attempt to engage him in conversation. They were well past the halfway point on their return journey when Frik noticed a change in Krev's face. The tight muscles, and the hatred that had caused them, were gone. In their place was a look of intense thought. Frik had seen that look often enough to know what it meant. Krev was planning something.
"The reports you received were certainly accurate," answered Captain Sophie Storm-Dawn, commander of the Eastmarch Rangers, as was her twin sister Colette.
"Accurate, but certainly not current," added Nilsine Shatter-Shield who, like her commander, had removed her damp boots and left them by the hearth to dry, "that report went out over a year ago."
"A year," Terek said as he looked at Salama, "it cannot have been so long."
"It can, and it was," Sophie insisted, "I applaud your attention duty, but your tardiness has made the point moot."
"Someone has already found her, and dealt with her," Clesa said. She was still drawing a fair amount of attention, as was Salama. Some of it was merely common lust, but a fair amount of it was nothing of the kind.
"If those men at that table continue to glare at me in that manner, I will walk over to them and gouge out all of their eyes one after the other," Salama said.
"I see you are not from Eastmarch," Nilsine said, "There is much prejudice here against anyone who is not a Nord. It flows freely, in large quantities, from Windhelm, and the Palace of the Kings."
"It permeates the entire hold, almost as if it is in the waters," Sophie said, "Ulfric cares nothing for anyone who is not Nord, and the Nord he cares most about is himself."
The Dunmer warrior was clearly angry about the looks that continued to be directed towards her and her Redguard friend. That fact was not lost on anyone, especially not Terek.
"Deep breaths, maitea," he said as he found her hand, which was clenched in a fist, "they are insects compared to you. None of them are worthy of the little effort you would expend crushing them beneath your heal."
Salama's hand relaxed at Terek's touch, and his words had the desired effect. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly before she turned her face towards his and smiled.
no prejudice between races there, Sophie and Nilsine thought almost in unison as they observed Terek and Salama, very much the reverse.
"To return to your question, or rather, your statement - someone did find her, and deal with her; but not, perhaps, in the manner you implied," Nilsine said.
"We found her in the wilderness south of Windhelm. Her transformation was not yet completed. We brought her to the location you discovered. It was we that made the shack habitable, and provisioned, while we looked for a cure."
"The two of you cared for a Hagraven, and looked to cure her?" Clesa asked.
"The only cure I know of is to send it to Oblivion as quickly as possible," Balan added.
"Not the two of us," Nilsine said, "I was not present."
"As I said, her transformation was not yet completed. She was still very much a human woman, but the curse was still at work, and she was changing hour by hour . She had been tricked into participating in a ritual, and my father recognized what she described as a Totem Curse. My sister rode to the nearby sacred forest and brought back a high priestess of Kynareth. I stayed with Morryn and my father until Colette and Danica returned. Danica reversed the curse, and Morryn began to regain her humanity. But even though she was cured, she was not yet fully restored, and she was the victim of a terrible, traumatic experience. She continues to suffer from it. But she mends, slowly but surely, with the assistance of the Temple of Dibella in Markath."
"Gods," Terek said quietly.
"I did not know that hagravens could be saved," Clesa said.
"Most cannot. Those that willingly undergo the transformation, and have no desire to be saved, are administered the cure that your friend mentioned," Sophie said as she nodded at Balan before she lifted her mug to her lips and drained half the contents, "It was only because she had been tricked, and because we discovered her early in the process of transformation, that she was saved."
"What of the person who tricked her?" Balan asked.
Sophie smiled as her eyes went to the contents of her mug.
"Morryn dealt with that woman herself."
"Be careful to whom you give power, and how you give it to them; lest they turn that power back upon you." Nilsine said.
"Indeed," Clesa said as one of the men who had been admiring her earlier walked by her again and the two of them traded glances.
"So it seems that you have ridden all this way for nothing," Sophie said.
"I would not say that," Salama said as she looked at Terek, "have you ever heard such a fantastic tale before now?"
"I cannot say that I have, but I am not as well traveled as you are."
The two of them continued to gaze at each other and smile.
Gods, the walls of this inn are paper thin. These two will keep everyone up for half the night.
"How do you like your new position?" Sara asked after Hellina had departed and the two friends had Eofel's new home to themselves. They sat at the small table that stood against the far wall that held one of the pair of windows through which the last rays of sunlight bade the pair goodnight as afternoon turned to evening. The only hearth in the two story structure was on the ground floor; but the warmth from below, and the warm stone from the hearth's chimney that made up a portion of the wall that stood nearby made the room quite comfortable.
"I like it very much," Eofel answered as she poured hot water over the tea leaves in each of their mugs, "They built me a home, and an infirmary, of my own. Besides your father the Archmage, I cannot think of anyone else who would be so generous."
"You play an important part in their lives. It is only right, and natural, that they care for you, and compensate you, properly."
"I still feel like a child who asked an older sibling to sit and play a game of Let Us Pretend ,with me taking the part of Healer while they play the part of Patient. Some of them still hesitate to enter my infirmary, or they will enter, but refuse to sit upon my examining table. They ask only for a potion, keeping one hand on the door as if a hasty escape might be required. Would you cease your laughing?"
Sara's attempts to keep her amusement at Eofel's tale hidden had failed utterly.
"I do not laugh at you, dear sister," she said, as the image in her mind brought on a new bout of mirth, "I was just imagining one of those towering Osimer cousins, their hand shaking in fear as it gripped the door handle at the prospect of them submitting to the rack that is your examining table."
"You laugh, but Urul did almost exactly as you describe rather than allow me to examine a bothersome tooth. Hellina finally ordered him to sit for an examination rather than take matters into his own hands, or rather into his cousins hands. Urul had requested that Sharn simply punch him in the jaw repeatedly until the tooth could be pulled out. Gods! Can you not stop laughing for one minute?"
Sara was wiping her eyes as she replied.
"No, I do not believe that I can."
"So Urul sat in my infirmary committing his immortal soul to its Orcish after life while Sharn sulked nearby at being robbed of the opportunity of beating her cousin to a pulp. Sweet Gods, greater and lesser! There is no talking to you now," Eofel said as she finally gave up any attempt to explain to her friend, who was now quite doubled over with laughter, the challenges she faced as the Healer to the Silver Hand.