Skyrim: A Tale of Two Dragons

Chapter 15: Pendulum Swing

Wulfric was pensive as he made the walk from Paarthurnax's roost, the long talk with the ancient dragon weighing heavily on his mind. The task laid on before him seemed immeasurable, a vast mountain to climb and he couldn't even see the halfway mark.

The old dragon had spoken with him at great length, though few answers were ever plainly given. Before he left, Paarthurnax was insistent that he meditate with him. Wulfric was a Dovahkiin, that much was certain, but he "did not truly comprehend the half of him that makes him dovah" according to Paarthurnax.

So, the Nord had meditated with the ancient dragon. It was unlike anything Wulfric had done before, but he as he closed his eyes and listened as Paarthurnax's rumbling voice rolled over him, speaking only in the tongue of the dragons. By the time Wulfric opened his eyes, the early afternoon had turned into an early night and the sun was beginning to disappear across the horizon. If asked, Wulfric would not be able to explain what the dragon taught him, yet he left feeling like he had gained much more than he had expected.

Arngeir stood inside the monastery as if waiting for Wulfric, eyes closed in his own silent meditation. Upon his approach, the Greybeard's eyes slid open and focused on the large Nord.

"I trust your talk with our master was enlightening?" Arngeir asked. "Was he able to provide you guidance on the current situation?"

"Yes and no," Wulfric answered tiredly. "I have solutions, just no feasible way on how to achieve them."

The old Greybeard stared at Wulfric for a long moment, taking him in. Finally, he gave a small nod to himself and turned from Wulfric.

"We should not waste our time speaking now," he told the larger man in a firm tone. "You need to rest your body and, more importantly, your mind and soul. I am sure that there are solutions before you but you are blocked from seeing them as you are now."

He began walking further into the castle, calling back over his shoulder. "Follow me. We have given you and Thomas a more private room. You are welcome to keep your possessions here at High Hrothgar for as long as you like, Dovahkiin."

Wulfric stared at the man's retreating back before deciding he didn't have any other ideas about what to do and began walking after him.

He followed the Greybeard through the winding halls of High Hrothgar, walking a steady pace as they passed various halls and rooms with apprentices and masters alike. Finally, Arngeir came to a stop in front of a large wooden door with elaborate detailing and brass studs.

"These quarters are normally used for a Jarl's personal guard or extended family in the event that they visit us." Arngeir explained as he opened the door. "An acting Jarl has not made the visit in quite some time so we have decided to have you, Dovahkiin, use the room during your time here."

He pushed the door fully open, revealing a much more decorated and lush room than any other Wulfric had seen so far. The room was larger than he expected, holding six full sized beds, each with a wardrobe stationed next to it. Thick blankets and pelts covered each bed and old tapestries hung from the walls. A burning brazier was lit in each corner, giving the room warmth and light.

Thomas was sprawled out on one of the beds reading through a scroll. He sat up at there arrival, rolling the scroll up and setting it on the bed.

"Wulfric, you're back!" the Breton exclaimed as he pushed himself off the bed. "How did everything go with the master?"

Wulfric looked over at Arngeir, who simply gave him a slight nod before he turned and left without another word. Wulfric watched him go for a moment before stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him.

Wulfric sighed, taking in the warmth from the nearby fires as he slumped down on one of the plush beds next to Thomas. He stared at the scholar for a full minute, saying nothing. Thomas went from excited to confused to concern as time passed, slowly beginning to fidget more and more.

"Thomas," he began slowly. "I need to know that I can trust you."

Thomas started to speak but the larger Nord lifted a hand to silence him.

"I don't need to know all of your secrets. I don't need to know everything about your past. Truthfully, I don't really care. What I need to know is if I can trust you fully? You appeared here at almost the exact same time I did and you've been following me around ever since. You claim that you came to Skyrim to visit the mage's college but you've shown yourself to be far more proficient than an untrained magic user would be.

"There are a lot of mysteries about you. You've told me you're a historian from Cyrodil, which I do believe, but haven't mentioned anything else about yourself. You've been a true ally while we've traveled and fought together, but I know almost nothing about you. I know that we spoke about secrets before we arrived…but things have changed."

Wulfric took a deep breath before releasing it slowly. His eyes never left Thomas.

"So," he said. "I ask again; can I trust you?"

Thomas stared back at him silently before sitting down on the bed across from Wulfric. For a long moment the only sound in the room was the crackling braziers. Finally, Thomas sighed through his nose and spoke.

"Trust is a fickle thing. It can be so hard to earn yet lost in the blink of an eye. You're right, Wulfric, I haven't spoken much about myself and for good reason. Despite following you around, you haven't exactly earned my trust either. I believe you to be a good man, yet I see you avoiding the Imperial army at every turn. You wield a terrifyingly powerful ability and you don't even seem to realize how ridiculously vital your role might be with Alduin's return.

"As someone who has studied a lot of history and has read a fair bit about the ancient Tongues, I know the type of power that you're capable of. If you continue to grow with it, you'll be capable of bringing down dragons entirely on your own and growing stronger with every soul you consume from them. You alone can shift the entire balance of the world and that terrifies me. Of course, I'm not going to let you out of my sight."

Wulfric looked back at him, unfazed by his words. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Yes," Thomas said with slight agitation. "You can trust me. I assure that there are things about myself and my past that I don't wish to delve into, but our meeting was once of chance. I'm not a Thalmor agent or a member of the Imperial army. I don't give a damn about the Stormcloaks or Skyrim in general."

"Is there anyone pursuing you from your past? Are you on the run from anyone?"

Thomas shook his head. "Hardly. If anything, I'm trying to amend things that happened well before I was even born. I can tell you that I have no bounty or any enemies that are looking for me."

"How are you so gifted in magic already?"

"That's an easy one," Thomas answered. "I grew up around a few people that were knowledgeable in various branches of magic, particularly Destruction magic. I picked up quite a bit from them but never had anything formal like the College of Winterhold. I don't even know any healing spells."

Wulfric stared at him for another hard minutes before letting out the breath he'd unconsciously been holding. A slow grin slid over his face. "Well, that's a relief to hear. I can do without a second faction trying to kill me."

Thomas arched an eyebrow and leaned forward onto his knees, looking quizzically at the larger man. "The Imperials, I'm guessing? What happened there?"

"My time in Skyrim has been eventful to say the least. I got caught up in an Imperial ambush when they captured Ulfric."

Thomas eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The Imperials captured Ulfric? Then how is he in Winterhold? Why is the rebellion still happening? How did you escape?"

Wulfric ran a hand over his face. "I kind of didn't escape, at least not in the way anyone would think of. The Imperials transported all of the rebels to their fort at Helgen and we're going to execute them. Anyone who they just happened to catch by accident….well, who was going to miss a few wanders?"

"Are you saying that the army was going to execute anyone they suspected of being a rebel?"

Wulfric nodded. "They caught a thief in the ambush as well, clear as day that he had nothing to do with the Stormcloaks. Was so scared out of his mind that he tried to make a break for it and Imperial archers killed mid-stride."

"Wait, you said they took you all to Helgen…" Thomas trailed off.

Wulfric nodded at is unasked question. "They all but admitted that I wasn't a rebel but didn't really care. My head was literally on the chopping block when Alduin showed up. Bastard did something to cause fire to literally rain from the sky and everything went to Oblivion. One of the rebel cut me loose and we banded up to get out of there."

"I can understand why you're so reluctant to be around them then. You're a pretty memorable figure, after all."

Wulfric shrugged his massive shoulders. "Blessing and a curse. Anyway, Ulfric apparently made it out and back to Winterhold."

The large man pushed himself back to his feet, feeling like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It was good to share the truth with someone that he considered a friend.

"By the way," Thomas said as he reached over and plucked a sealed scroll from the nightstand. "This came to you via courier while you were busy. There's some sort of magic in the seal that will destroy the scroll if you're not the one to open it. That's not an easy bit of magic to pull off."

He tossed the scroll over at Wulfric who caught it carefully. With gentle fingers, he picked away the waxy seal and unraveled it. He relaxed a bit when there was no explosion and read it aloud.

"Wulfric," he began. "I believe I've found a good place for us to settle down and start a family. I don't have an exact location picked out just yet so meet me the Reach at Old Hroldan Inn and we can plan for our future together. I look forward to your embrace so are four arms may ensnare one another again."

"Forever yours," he finished. "Daphne."

Wulfric looked up at Thomas, utterly confused. "What is this?"

Thomas leaned over and deftly plucked the letter from Wulfric's hands, eyes scrolling over it. His eyes flickered up at the larger man briefly before finishing the letter.

"Well, either you met someone very special that you haven't told me about," Thomas said as a sly grin slid across his face. "Or this is a coded letter from Delphine, telling us where to meet her."

"…that would make more sense," Wulfric said slowly. "I was very, very confused for a minute there. How are you certain it's from her though?"

"Well, she did say that she'd contact us," Thomas began. "On top of that, the letter is signed 'Daphne' which isn't a far cry from 'Delphine' and the handwriting here is pretty similar all her notes and documents in Riverwood."

He held the letter out to Wulfric as proof but the larger man just ignored it, raising an eyebrow instead. "You remember what her handwriting looked like?"

Thomas shrugged. "I read a lot. You tend to noticed that people have distinctive styles. I can't say this is an exact match, but it looks close enough to me."

"Well, that's good enough for me. We'll set out tomorrow for the Reach, wherever that is, and we'll find this inn from there."

"Perfect," Thomas agreed. "I'm ready to get on the road anyway. The library was frustratingly unhelpful this time. I hope you had better luck with the Greybeard's master. What was he like, by the way? Can he help with the Alduin problem?"

Wulfric felt himself tense up, still not entirely certain with Thomas. But ultimately, the man had proved himself a trustworthy friend to this point. He deserved the truth.

"It was…a lot." Wulfric admitted. He saw Thomas lean over to the nightstand for a quill and parchment. He reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Let's keep this off the record, at least for now."

Thomas looked confused but pulled his arm back all the same.

"You know that documenting things is kind of the reason I've been following you around. What's so important about this?"

"The Greybeards master is an ancient dragon named Paarthurnax."

Thomas stared at him wide-eyed. "A dragon? The Greybeards master is a dragon?"

Wulfric nodded. "He was the one who taught the Voice to humans in the first place and helped them overthrow Alduin over a thousand of years ago."

"By the Nine, he's that old?"

"Yes, apparently dragons are essentially immortal unless they are physically slain. He told me how three ancient heroes, know as Tongues, fought Alduin and banished him into the Tiid-Ahraan."

"Into the what?"

"The Time Wound," Wulfric answered. "It's a rip in the timestream caused by the Tongues forcing Alduin through it when they weren't able to outright kill him."

Thomas leaned forward, eyes burning with interest. "So, they banished him into time? How in Oblivion did they do that? I can't think of any spell even remotely capable of something like that. You would need either a massive amount of raw, wild magic or a…"

He trailed off as it dawned on him. "No..no, no, no."

Wulfric nodded, feeling the same exhaustion he had felt upon leaving Paarthurnax. "Yeah."

"They used an Elder Scroll against him? And the best they could do was to throw him into time? That couldn't even kill him?!"

Wulfric nodded tiredly. "Yeah. They hoped he'd be lost in there forever but he remerged from the Wound a few months back. Paarthurnax has been waiting there ever since and they fought. Paarthurnax survived but he's still badly hurt."

"Okay, okay, okay," Thomas was now up and packing back and forth. "A massive dragon, literally known as the World Eater, has returned from being thrown through time and we have to kill him."

"Well, technically, I do," Wulfric answered lightly. "You're mostly along for the ride."

"Okay, well this Partysnax or whatever had to have some sort of help or guidance about fighting Alduin, right?"

Wulfric shrugged as he watched the Breton continue to pace. "More or less. He at least gave us a direction to go with hopes that it would help us in the long run."

"Please tell me it's some ancient weapon that can killed gods or something."

"Not quite," Wulfric told him. "We're going after an Elder Scroll."

Thomas stopped pacing and stared at Wulfric, eyes wide but demeanor flat. Wulfric shrugged back at him.

"This is bullshit," Thomas said in defeated tone. "This is bullshit, I hate it and I'm going to bed."

Wulfric watch the smaller man throw himself on the bed, all but pouting at this point. It was comical but Wulfric could certainly understand the man's underlying frustration. He certainly felt it himself.

"It is," he agreed. "But it's the best we've got for now. We'll set out to meet with Delphine tomorrow. Maybe she's heard something about the location of one. If not, maybe we'll head to the mage's college. Seems like a good place to start as any."

Wulfric was awoken the following morning by a light knocking at the door. The large man pulled himself from the bed, tiredly throwing on his pants before opening the door to reveal Arngeir.

The Greybeard gave Wulfric a quick once over. "It would appear that your rest has helped to bring you clarity, Dovahkiin."

Wulfric scratched the back of his head in mild embarrassment. "Yeah, I had a lot on my mind yesterday but I've got a clear goal now."

"Excellent," Arngeir told him. "I do not mean to be presumptuous but I would assume that you and Thomas will be leaving shortly?"

"Yeah, that's the plan right now. We need to meet with someone else that can hopefully point us in the right direction. We have a goal, just not a clear route to it yet."

"Then I wish you the very best on your quest, Dovahkiin," Arngeir told him with a slight bow. "Should you ever need shelter, High Hrothgar will always welcome you within its halls and peaks. Why don't you head to the dining hall to fill your stomach before you depart?"

Wulfric felt his stomach grumble at the thought of a hearty breakfast. "That sounds good to me. Let me get Thomas up and we'll head there."

"Non-sense," Arngeir held up a hand to stop him. "I will wake our young scholar so that you may get your fill. A man of your…size could likely use a few extra minutes to feast."

Wulfric glanced back at the sleeping Thomas before shrugging. "Works for me. Thanks, Arngeir."

The large man walked back over to his bed and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head as he walked out the door. He only made it a few steps past Arngeir before he stopped.

"And the hall is…?"

"Continue straight until you reach a split path, then take the next two lefts."

"Perfect, thanks again!"

Without a second though, the large Nord lumbered off in search of some breakfast and possibly a bath and change of clothes.

Arngeir watch him go for a moment before stepping further into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He stared at the sleeping Thomas for a moment, quietly pondering him before walking over at sitting at the bed Wulfric had occupied.

The Greybeard leaned in toward the Breton and whispered in a voice barely loud enough to be heard. "Fus."

The strength of his Unrelenting Shout blew the blankets clean off the younger man, who startled awake as he was lightly pushed off the bed.

Thomas bolted upright from the floor, disorientated and irritated. "Why would you ever wake someone up like th-" The scholar's voice went from sharp to very mild the instant he locked eyes with the Greybeard. "Oh, Arngeir! I didn't realize that you were here."

"Hello Thomas," Arngeir said in an even tone, as if this wake-up call were an every day event. "I wish I was in the position to greet you this morning but, unfortunately, I am not."

Thomas eyed him warily now, fidgeting slightly as he reached for his pants. "Why is that?"

The Greybeard eyed him flatly. "Please do not try to lie or belittle my intelligence, Thomas. You have stolen from us."

The younger man puffed up at the accusation but deflated just as quickly. No use denying something that was already established. "I have, but please let me explain!"

Arngeir held up a hand to silence him. "In the instance of theft from High Hrothgar, people are usually banished and asked never to return. If the artifact in question is a holy relic of some sort, the punishment is usually more…severe."

Thomas sucked in a sharp breath.

"You, however, are incredibly lucky," Arngeir explained. "Please dress yourself and sit down. We need to talk."

The Breton hastily threw on his clothes, nearly forgetting to fasten his belt in the process, before he sat across from the Greybeard. He stared at Arngeir hesitantly before leaning over and reaching into his backpack. He dug down near the bottom of the pack before he pulled a tightly bound shirt out. He unbound the shirt and set it aside, revealing the book with the silver embossed oak tree on it.

Arngeir stared down at the book before looking back up at Thomas. "It has been brought to my attention why you may have interest in this journal. Why did you feel the need to steal it rather than ask to see it?"

Thomas stared at the Greybeard, contemplating him, before he spoke. "You know who wrote this journal?"

"Of course, I do. It was written by a Greybeard master known as Geon, nearly two hundred years ago."

"That's right. But do you know who he was before he became a Greybeard? Who his grandfather was?"

Arngeir straightened his posture. "I am aware of his legacy before his time at High Hrothgar. We generally do not focus on his past as he had little to do with his grandfather's goals. The grace of that disconnect is why you are sitting here right now, speaking to me, and not being thrown down the mountainside."

"So, you know of the Pale Uprising then?"

The boldness of his words caught Arngeir off-guard. "The Pale Uprising?"

"Yes," Thomas pressed on. "Do you know of it? Of what was done in Chorrol on that cold winter's night?"

Arngeir's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I have read of it. In this very book."

Thomas nodded. "I figured as much. You seem a scholarly type."

"You have lost the plot with your inquiries," Arngeir told him firmly. "I ask again; why did you attempt to steal it rather than ask for it?"

"Well, think about it," Thomas said lightly. "Why would I want to draw any sort of attention to myself about asking around about a centuries old journal that was written by a runaway teenager whose grandfather tried to overthrow the Empire? What good could come of that? But alas, here we are."

Arngeir pivoted. "What is it you wished to learn from Geon's writings?"

Thomas shrugged. "Truthfully, no idea. I'm not looking for any specific bit of information. There's no hidden treasure or lost artifact or secret bit of magic. I'm just trying to do right by my family."

"So, you are indeed a–"

"Of course, I am," Thomas cut him off. "You, or one of the other Greybeards, has probably suspected it since you first saw me. I've been told that most of the men in my family are strikingly similar in appearance. I don't see why this would be any different."

Arngeir stared at him intensely. "What do you wish to do with this knowledge?"

"Nothing like what Verick tried to pull, I assure you," Thomas answered. "I just…I just want to bring some honor to my name again. To prevent our history, our very name, from being stamped out of existence. I don't want power, I don't want to rule…I don't even want back the things that we've lost!"

Thomas blinked as he realized he was now standing over the Greybeard, shouting and breathing heavily. He sat back down and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"I want my family to be remembered for the good things we did. What we built and who we were before some stupid fool ruined all of it."

Arngeir started at him for a long moment before he standing. Wordlessly, he reached over and placed Thomas's hand atop the embossed oak tree on the journal. The Breton stared up at him in confusion.

"I see truth in your heart and hear it in your words, young Thomas. I find your intentions to be honorable and nothing that will endanger Skyrim, its people or even Tamriel. We do not bandy about in the affairs of those below High Hrothgar unless we must and I see no reason to do so now. Take this journal with you. By right, it is more your property than our own."

Thomas stood up, clutching the journal tightly to his chest, and bowed deeply to the Greybeard.

"Thank you, Arngeir."

Wulfric was working through his third plate of food when Thomas plopped down next to him on the bench with his own plate of food. It seemed pitiful compared to Wulfric's stacked plate The larger man eyed it with a frown.

"Surely you'll be eating more than that?"

"Not all of us need eat enough to sustain an entire village, you big lug. Besides, I'm not exactly starving at the moment."

Wulfric gave the younger man a once over before shrugging. "Suit yourself, but grab a few things to eat on the way. It's going to take a while to get to this Old Hroldan Inn."

"I'll be fine," Thomas insisted. "But we probably should get a move on after we're done eating. The sun's starting to properly light the path by now so we won't be walking in the dark. Let's try and cover as much ground as we can before nightfall."

Mouth stuffed to the brim, Wulfric settled for giving him a thumbs-up. Thomas rolled his eyes but smiled all the same as he bit into a piece of jammed toast, subconsciously tightening his backpack straps as he ate.

The pair ate for a few more minutes before gathering their things and bidding the Greybeards goodbye. Not looking to waste time, they began the slow trudge back down the seven thousand steps.

"You know," Wulfric said, nearly an hour into their hike. "I'm really beginning to hate these steps."

"It could be worse," Thomas reminded him. "It could just be dirt instead of steps. Besides, if you count them then you have an idea of how much more you have left to go."

Wulfric side eyed him. "Aren't we the optimist this morning?"

Thomas shrugged. "I had a good rest last night and an enlightening talk with Arngeir this morning. I'm in a good mood after all that."

"A talk with Arngeir, huh? What did the two of you talk about?"

"Nothing too important," Thomas told him. "He's a bit of scholar himself so we talked about an uprising I was reading about in one of my books. And no, there's nothing there that can help us with Alduin."

"Shame that," Wulfric told him as he reached into his pocked and pulled out their map. "I didn't know if you've ever been to the Reach, so I asked around for some directions during breakfast. The apprentices don't talk but they were able to circle some key areas for us."

The larger man held out the map in front of them as they walked.

"So, it'll take us about a day or so to get near Whiterun, depending on our pace," Wulfric explained. "From there, we can either walk another fifty or so miles to the inn or hire a carriage to take us towards Markarth. They should be willing to drop us off well before the city, so more money for them."

"I'm impressed," Thomas said. "I didn't figure you for a logistics guy."

Wulfric snorted. "I'm not. I kind of hate maps in general, but my father pounded into my head how important it was to know where you're traveling. I was traveling alone from Morrowind to High Rock, mind you."

Thomas held up his hands in mock surrender and began to say something when Wulfric grabbed him by the collar and yanked them both behind a large bolder.

"What are you–" he began before a massive hand smothered his mouth.

"Shut up," Wulfric hissed. "The Legion is on their way."

Thomas's eyes widened and he fell silent. Wulfric pulled his hand away and gestured to look around the rock. Mindful of the snow underneath him, the Breton slowly slid over to the edge of the bolder and peered around it.

Sure enough, a group of nearly twenty Imperial soldiers were marching up the seven thousand steps, looking to be headed for High Hrothgar. There were two Imperial officers leading the way, notable in their shining silver helms. One man and one woman, both looked moderately young to have such a rank already.

The man was an Imperial through and through. His skin was lightly tanned and his features nearly as sharp as an elf. The woman was more of a mix of an Imperial and Breton, like himself. Heavily tanned skin but softer features with dark brown hair cut at her shoulders.

Thomas heard a small popping nose and looked over at Wulfric. The large man was peering around the other side of the rock but Thomas could see his hands were clenched white with anger. The popping sound had been one of his knuckles.

Before he could say anything, he began to hear the legionnaires talking to one another.

"You going to have to be made of stronger stuff if you want to make any further than a captain, Rexus." the female captain sneered. "We're in a war and you have to do things that you don't always like doing."

"I understand the necessities of my position, Ria." the male captain spoke, his tone sharp. "I said as much to General Tullius when I swore my oath as a captain. I do, however, find a firm line between necessary and cruel."

"She was a traitor!" the female captain spat back. "She helped the escape of a know Stormcloak! The very man who killed my unit."

The man, Rexus, said something back but the soldiers were already beginning to head around a bend in the path and were nearly out of earshot.

'Well, if there bickering is anything to go by, its no wonder we went unnoticed.' Thomas thought to himself.

He glanced over at Wulfric and saw his hands were unclenched but were beginning to pulled the warhammer from its place on his back. Eyes widening, the scholar scrambled over to the larger Nord as quietly as he could and grabbed at the hammer.

Wulfric whirled on him, eyes bright with fury, but Thomas held the hammer's shaft firmly and shook his head. Wulfric glared at him, knowing full well he could yank the hammer away at will but ultimately nodded and relaxed his hand.

The pair sat there quietly in the snow, Wulfric breathing heavily for several more minutes. Thomas looked around both sides of the boulder and even scrambled out from behind it to look further down their path before returned to Wulfric.

"Looks like they're completely gone now," he told him, still mindful to keep his voice quiet. "Mind telling me what that was about?"

"I'm sorry," Wulfric said. "One of the soldiers, the female captain, was Ria. She's the one who tried to have me executed at Helgen. She tried to kill me even as I fled from Alduin's attack and she attacked me again the first time I was making my way to High Hrothgar."

"So, you're the one who killed her unit then?"

The larger man snorted in disdain. "I am but not in a dishonorable way. I was staying at the inn at the base of the mountain. She spotted me and chased me up the path so I turned and fought them, four versus one."

Thomas's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You beat four Imperial soldiers completely by yourself?"

"Three by the looks of it," Wulfric answered darkly. "I killed two and threw Ria down the mountain before killing her wizard. I knew she survived the fall but wasn't sure of anything beyond that."

Thomas nodded and eyed the path heading back to the monastery. "I don't like that they're heading for the Greybeards. Should we double-back and help?"

Wulfric thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, the Greybeards will be fine. A handful of Imperials won't be able to do much against four master of the Voice, not to mention all the apprentices up there. By Talos's hand, Paarthurnax might even get involved if needed."

"Well then, let's be off."

The pair went on undisturbed for another hour before they began to seeing a rising plume of thick gray smoke coming from the base of the mountain.

Thomas stared at it for a moment, confused, before a terribly thought came to him. He turned to Wulfric.

"You don't think…"

Apparently he did, as the larger man began racing down the mountainside before he finished speaking. Thomas began to sprint after him, struggling to match the Nord's much longer stride.

They made it down the mountain in record time only to see exactly what Thomas had feared.

The inn that they had stayed at before their climb to High Hrothgar was now a smoldering ruin. Bright crimson flames still burned brightly but the building itself had already collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but burning rubble.

The small populace of Ivarstead looked on in horror at the sight before them. One figure was closer than all the others, collapsed to her knees on the cobblestones in front of the burning inn. She was screaming any vulgarity that came to her, tears rolling down her face.

Thomas stood frozen at the sight, unsure of what to do.

Wulfric walked right past him, ignoring the building and the people that littered the street. Instead, he focused directly on the crying woman. With a tenderness Thomas didn't know he possessed, the large Nord lifted the woman lightly to her feet, speaking quietly to her.

She said something back at Wulfric before full of slapping him. The Nord didn't react at all nor did he when a second slap followed. The woman broke down into sobs again before she could throw a third.

Wulfric kneeled down and whispered something into her ear. He watched as the woman jerked back in surprise. Wulfric then stood, turning around to face the burning inn behind him.

"FUS RO DAH!"

A massive force burst forth from the Dovahkiin's mouth, slamming into the remains of the inn and smothering the fire until not even an ember remained.

The village looked on in shock as Wulfric turned back to face them. He glared at them and they quickly began to disperse. Wulfric sighed and signaled Thomas to come over to him.

The scholar approached quickly. "What happened?"

"The Imperials happened." Wulfric said briskly. "They burnt down Frande's inn because I happened to be there when they showed up after Helgen. Claimed she was helping me and had to be dealt justice."

He looked down at Frande, who was still struggling to pull herself together. "Stay with Thomas for a moment. I need to take care of something."

The large man immediately headed off to another building in the town without another word. Thomas looked at Frande, utterly confused on what to do. He'd only ever met the woman in passing.

"I knew he was something else from the first time he came into my inn," the woman broke their silence with a weak voice. "Never expected anything like this though."

"He certainly is something else," Thomas agreed. "I'm sorry about your inn."

"It's been in my family for six generations. It was a good, steady life…I don't know what I'm going to do now. Everything I had was in there and now its just…gone."

Thomas looked at her with pity but she continued. "That female captain wanted to kill me but the male officer wouldn't let her. They nearly came to blows before she grabbed a torch and threw it behind my bar. Said if I can't pay with my life, then I can pay with my livelihood."

Thomas stared in disbelief. "What a horrible person."

"You don't have to say that twice," Wulfric said as he walked back up to them. Outside of actual combat, this was the most serious Thomas has ever seen the man. "Ria is a stain upon all of Skyrim."

He looked down at Frande. "You have suffered because of me, so I will do my best to help you. I found a courier in town that will be running some letters for me. Thomas, I want you to take Frande to Whiterun for me. I'm sent a message ahead to Jarl Balgruuf, using my title as Thane to grant some graces for Frande. Should he not agree, take her to see Eorlund Gray-Mane. I know he'll help if needed."

Wulfric pulled out a coin purse and tossed it to Thomas. "Get her whatever she wants to get her life setup in Whiterun. I don't care about the coin. Once she's settled, head for the Reach."

The scholar caught it deftly while Frande stared up at Wulfric in awe. "I'll take her, of course, aren't you coming as well? Where are you going?"

Wulfric stared at the smoldering ruin that used to be an inn. He felt his fists clench but kept his voice even.

"I'm heading for Windhelm to seek out Ulfric Stormcloak. I have an offer I intend to take him up on."

I apologize for any typos. Didn't have time to proofread, just wanted to get it up as fast as possible. See you in the next one!