Chapter 3
Judgement
"Boy!" Vahkiir barked, making Strunheim jump. "Do not make me tell you again! Do not swing that spade around so wildly!"
Strunheim scowled up at him, his face red with fatigue and his breath misting in short, heavy pants. "It's heavy, and I'm growing tired!" he whined petulantly.
Vahkiir glared at the boy, then walked over and cuffed him behind the head for talking back to him. "And if you puncture the roof, you'll be even more tired, because I'll be making you repair it! Either finish this task properly or you'll have two to complete! And I assure you, clearing snow is much easier than patching a roof!"
Strunheim groaned, sticking his spade in the ground and leaning heavily on it. It was shortly after breakfast, and the two of them were partway through clearing the snow from the roof of their hut. Fortunately, at least by Vahkiir's standards, it was a rather light coating that wouldn't take much effort to remove. In truth, the roof could withstand another few inches, but he would rather clear it while he had few other tasks to tend to, and while the snow was still powdery. It would be far more difficult to remove if it iced over. He also figured that this would be a good learning experience for Strunheim, as it was a chore he would need to tend to for his own family one day. Obviously, the boy didn't agree.
"Come now, surely you're not going to allow our guest to outpace you?" Vahkiir chided his son, sweeping his arm over to their right. Nearby, Brevyn was diligently tossing large blocks of snow over his shoulder. When he had heard that Vahkiir was going to work outside, he had asked to help. Vahkiir had tried to refuse, as he felt that it wasn't right for a guest to help with what should be his household's tasks, but the elf had insisted, claiming that he felt uncomfortable accepting food and lodging without earning his keep. Vahkiir had protested that he didn't want the elf to feel obliged to help, especially since that he feared the Chimer would find it too similar to being forced to labor on behalf of the Nords in his homeland. Brevyn, however, had pointed out that the Skaal were not technically Nords, and that he was offering to help of his own free will, whereas the Nords would have simply forced him to work. The two argued for a short while, but Vahkiir finally relented. In truth, he was grateful for the help, though he was still somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of a guest working, as he felt Brevyn should instead be simply enjoying his hospitality.
Strunheim glanced over at the elf, then frowned up at Vahkiir. "Of course he's able to clear more snow than me. He's larger and stronger than I am," he pointed out.
"He is now," Vahkiir countered. "Soon you'll grow to be far larger than he – perhaps even larger than I am. However, you'll never become stronger if you don't work. Now stop whining and continue!"
Strunheim groaned and wearily hefted his spade over his shoulder as he wandered over to another section of the roof. Brevyn grinned at the boy as he trudged past him and began digging into the snow to his right.
"Don't worry, boy. Fathers are simply like that," he said in a low voice, though Vahkiir could still hear him clearly. "If it's any consolation, my own father had me tending to guar before I was your age. I had to be up before dawn every morning, cleaning the waste out of their pens, feeding them, washing them, making sure that they didn't have any mites between their scales…."
"I doubt you had to do your chores when it was this cold, though," Strunheim muttered.
Vahkiir shot his son a furious glare, but Brevyn simply burst out laughing. "Well, not this cold, no," he admitted. "But I am from northern Vvardenfell, where we see our fair share of snow. What's more, we also occasionally suffer ash storms, which we had to clear afterwards in a manner very similar to this. At least snow can be easily removed. Have you ever tried to remove ash from cloth?"
Strunheim blinked, then shook his head slowly. "I… cannot say that I have," he admitted.
Brevyn grinned broadly. "Be grateful, then, that you need only remove a few layers of snow. I've done both, and snow is far easier. At least with this, you do not need to scrub your garments in lye afterwards, until your hands are red and raw."
Strunheim swallowed and nodded as he turned back to his section of the roof. When he drove his spade into it the snow time, he was much more careful, and he even seemed to be moving with a touch more energy after realizing that there were indeed much more difficult tasks that he could have been given. Vahkiir paused to smirk at Brevyn.
"Well done," he remarked in a low voice. "I don't think I've ever seen him so compliant."
Brevyn responded with a droll grin. "Sometimes all one needs is a bit of perspective," he replied easily. "Though, admittedly, it was a bit of a gamble, as he could have just as easily become surly if he believed I was suggesting that he was not doing enough. I'm pleased that he didn't, though. You've got yourself a fine boy there."
"I do," Vahkiir agreed with a proud smile. "He's sharp, learns quickly… and is quite courageous," he added, remembering how he had been willing to sneak behind the dragon. Vahkiir wondered if Strunheim had even been considering attacking it himself before he had demanded the spear from the boy. "Now if only he would stop complaining every time I set him to a task…."
"He's young," Brevyn shrugged. "He'll complain less as he grows older."
Will he?" Vahkiir asked in an exasperated tone. Then he gave Brevyn a sidelong glance and added, "When, exactly?"
Brevyn chuckled and shook his head as he returned to his work. Vahkiir did the same, and after a several more minutes, they had managed to clear about half the roof. By then, they were so engrossed in their work that none of them noticed a small figure approaching them.
"Vahkiir!" a voice called out to him just as he was about to toss a chunk of snow over his shoulder. Vahkiir paused and glanced to his left to see his mother standing nearby, her arms folded over her chest. "I would like to speak with you."
Vahkiir immediately noticed the dire tone of her voice and her ashen-faced expression. His stomach began to sink as he dumped the snow onto the ground and plunged the point of his spade into a snowbank before trudging over to her. "I presume that this is in regards your judgement?" he asked her in a low voice.
Kunsil nodded solemnly, unable to meet his gaze. "If you would follow me?" she asked softly.
Vahkiir hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder. He saw both Brevyn and Strunheim had stopped working to stare at them with worried expressions. Brevyn, however, held up his hand and nodded to him encouragingly.
"We'll finish here!" he announced in as cheerful a tone as he could manage. "Don't worry, I'll watch the boy for you and make sure he finishes his fair share!"
Vahkiir managed a slight smile. "You have my thanks," he replied with a grateful nod. He then glanced over at Strunheim, who continued to stare at him anxiously, until Brevyn cleared his throat and nodded to the roof. Reluctantly, he returned to his task, though Vahkiir could feel his son watching him out of the corner of his eye as he worked.
Vahkiir followed his mother across the village towards the longhouse, which had never seemed so foreboding. As they approached the hunter guarding the door, he noticed that she was eyeing him suspiciously. He was used to such looks after the incident at the festival, but now there was a more primal fear in her eyes that went beyond mere disdain from him drunkenly attacking their chieftain. He couldn't help but wonder if she had overheard the village leaders discussing his encounter with the dragon… and whether she was already aware of the judgement they had passed. Shaking his head, he forced himself to push those thoughts out of his mind as he followed his mother inside the longhouse.
As it was midmorning, there was only a low fire burning in the hearth, and the shutters of the longhouse were open to allow sunlight into the building. The pale light made the central room seem eerily sinister, with long shadows stretching across the wooden floors. Vahkiir felt another shiver run up his spine as he approached the two figures standing in front of the chieftain's throne. The first was Muldok, who was once again eyeing Vahkiir with a combination of hatred and wariness. Vahkiir returned his glare, then glanced at the figure standing beside him.
Agrein was the oldest man in the village, surpassing his mother by more than thirty years. He had grown increasingly frail over the past few years, with his previously brawny form becoming almost skeletal, and his hair reduced to little more than a few wisps of white at the base of his skull. Despite this, his bright blue eyes remained clear, and both his mind and his tongue were sharper than ever. He served as the voice of wisdom and experience for the village, and his counsel was sought even more than his mother's, at least in mundane matters. Vahkiir greeted him with a respectful nod, which Agrein answered with a faint, mysterious smile. He didn't quite meet Vahkiir's eyes, however, and Vahkiir felt his stomach beginning to turn with worry as his mother walked over to stand on the other side of Muldok.
"Now, Vahkiir, before we begin… I trust that you have questions, and you are owed some answers," Kunsil began.
"Is he?" Muldok scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Why don't we just-?"
"Those who do not know our history are doomed to repeat it," Agrein interjected, though his soft, almost whisper-like tone was not unkind. "And if we do not tell him of our past, he may fall into the same trap as his predecessor."
"But if we do tell him, he may seek to follow the same path out of spite!" Muldok retorted. "You know well how hot his temper runs!"
Vahkiir narrowed his eyes, angrily opening his mouth to protest, but a sharp glare from his mother silenced him. "Enough," Kunsil said shortly, turning to glower at Muldok. "We have already chosen to tell him, and even as chieftain, you cannot overrule us."
Muldok glared at her, but when he also saw Agrein staring at him, he sighed and waved his hand impatiently. "Do what you must," he growled.
Kunsil scowled at him for a moment longer, then turned back to Vahkiir. "Yesterday, you told us that you slew a dragon, yes?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her. "Then you were then engulfed by a bright light, and afterwards, you able to command the wind with a mere word?"
"I was," Vahkiir confirmed slowly.
Kunsil grimaced as Agrein let out a soft sigh. Muldok, however, sneered and shook his head. "Can you show us, then?" he asked derisively.
"No!" Agrein and Kunsil cried.
Vahkiir flinched slightly, startled by their outcry, and Muldok stared at them, their reaction clearly baffling to him. "Ah… that might not be wise, especially in here," Vahkiir explained, addressing Muldok directly. "When I last spoke the word 'force,' I was able to throw a boulder twice your size about fifteen feet through the air. If I speak again in here…."
"You could bring the entire longhouse down around us," Kunsil finished.
Muldok frowned suspiciously at him. "Then perhaps we should go outside-" he began.
"There is no need for him to demonstrate," Agrein interrupted, turning back to Vahkiir as he folded his hands behind his back. "I am certain that you are not lying." He glanced at Kunsil. "After all, you could not have otherwise had such knowledge of the abilities of a Dragonborn, as I know your mother would never speak of it to you."
Muldok folded his arms over his chest, scowling. "Very well. Then if we are to accept his claim of being a Dragonborn on faith alone, then we must also conclude that, based on what we know of the past, he will become another Miraak." He smirked as Kunsil turned to glare at him. "Are you certain you don't wish to give him a chance to demonstrate, or to retract his claim?"
"And as I've said, you cannot know what he will become!" Kunsil retorted with a pointed look.
"You're claiming that I must rely on what I've heard, rather than what I've seen!" Muldok shot back. "As such, what we have heard of the Dragonborn tells us that Vahkiir will inevitably follow Miraak's path!"
Before the pair could argue any further, Vahkiir cried, "Enough!" All three leaders turned towards them as he glared, clenching his fists in frustration. "I am tired of you keeping your secrets and speaking to one another as though I am not here! You have mentioned that name several times now, and every time, it was spoken with hatred and fear! If you are going to compare me to whomever this is, I have the right to know – who is Miraak?"
Muldok glowered at him before turning away and shaking his head. Kunsil, meanwhile, glanced at Agrein, who considered her for a moment before nodding. Kunsil inhaled slowly, apparently bracing herself, before turning back to her son.
"Very well," she said, folding her hands in front of her and fixing Vahkiir with a hard stare. "I will tell you a tale that we would rather be left forgotten. One which you must keep secret from the other members of the village. All who rise to become leaders of this village must swear the same."
Vahkiir briefly considered insisting that he would decide after he had heard the tale, but when he saw all three of the leaders watching him warily, he thought better of his decision. It was clear that if he did not agree to their terms, they would never divulge the secret to him. "…Very well," he muttered reluctantly.
Kunsil nodded and closed her eyes. "A very long time ago, in years beyond counting, there was no island of Solstheim. Rather, the land we now call home was part of the mainland of Tamriel, the vast continent to the south. In this time, our ancestors lived not as free people who followed the will of the All-Maker, but as the servants of dragons." Vahkiir stared at her blankly, his mouth falling open, but Kunsil ignored him and continued, "Their dragon overlords ruled as kings and were worshipped as gods, each controlling swaths of land that they sought to wrest from each other through blood and flame. Our people were little more than thralls before the might of the dragons, forced to obey the bidding of their overlords, or face certain death for their defiance.
"In this era, one dragon ruled above all. In Skyrim, our cousins still call him Alduin. Some of our people believe him to be an aspect of Thartaag, the World-Devourer. He was said to be the mightiest of all the dragons… and the cruelest. His duty was to bring about the end of the world when the All-Father commanded it, as a natural part of the cycle of death and rebirth. After all, you recall that when we die, our bodies are remade by the All-Father's will, yes?" she asked, pausing for Vahkiir to nod. "Nirn is no different. Such was Alduin's task, to undertake this grim duty for the sake of laying the foundations for a new, better world. Yet, Alduin forsook his duty. Instead, he chose to rule as a warlord, reducing our ancestors to little more than his thralls, his playthings, to torment and torture at his leisure."
"And what does this have to do with this Miraak?" Vahkiir interrupted impatiently.
Kunsil paused, glowering at him. "If you will hold your tongue I will explain," she rebuked him sharply. Vahkiir grimaced and nodded obediently, whereupon Kunsil continued, "Now, in those days, it seemed that none could break the grip that Alduin held on the land. None could rival his power, and many other dragons submitted to him as their high king. So it was that the All-Father chose to send a champion to defeat Alduin and free our people. That champion was a man who would come to be known as Miraak.
"In those days, the dragons would appoint mortals as Dragon Priests. Their duties were to tend to their lands in their stead, leading their followers in the worship of their overlords and ensuring that their realms were managed properly. In exchange, these Dragon Priests were elevated above their peers, subservient only to the dragons themselves. Miraak was one such priest. He was said to be clever, ambitious, and very skilled in the ways of magic, though these traits were not uncommon amongst the mortals that the dragons chose as their representatives. Miraak, however, also possessed a power that no other mortal held – the ability to draw a dragon's very soul from its body after he slew it. It was said that this power was due to the dragon's soul that dwelt within his body alongside his own. This power made him akin to the dragons themselves, and thus he was named the first Dovahkiin – Dragonborn."
"The same power that you claim that I have," Vahkiir commented quietly.
Kunsil nodded grimly. "His draconic soul allowed him to quickly master the tongue of the dragons, through which he could enforce his will upon the world with a mere few words. While other mortals could only learn to speak as dragons do only after many years of training, Miraak could master words of power almost instantaneously. This, as well as the fact that he was the only mortal who could truly slay a dragon by removing its soul, made him a threat to the draconic regime. If he had chosen to do so, he could have become a champion of our people and freed them from the dragons' bondage."
"And yet… he did not," Angrein chimed in softly.
"Indeed," Kunsil sighed. "Miraak became consumed by his own greed and lust for power. Some of his fellow men pleaded with him, attempting to convince him that it was his duty to defeat Alduin and shatter their chains. Miraak, however, shunned them. Instead, he sought secrets in dark places where no man should tread, solely to increase his own power. It was said that he became an agent of the Greedy Man… or perhaps even that he became an avatar of the Greedy Man himself. Whether this is so or not, we do know for certain that he eventually became a tyrant in his own right, cruel enough to rival Alduin himself.
"As Miraak's power grew, so did his arrogance, and in time he began to plot to overthrow the dragons – not to free his fellow men, but to seize their thrones for himself and rule as an overlord in his own right. Fortunately, his plans were discovered by a great hero, a Dragon Priest named Vahlok, whom we call 'the Guardian.' Vahlok confronted him, and Miraak answered his challenge. It was said that their clash was so violent, it caused Miraak's domain to break free from the mainland and drift out to sea, becoming the island we call Solstheim. In the end, Vahlok managed to defeat Miraak, whereupon he became the new ruler of Solstheim and led us into an age of peace and prosperity. However, neither he nor his descendants – the Skaal – have ever forgotten the terror of Miraak, nor the power of the Dragonborn."
Vahkiir was silent for a long while after Kunsil finished her story, gazing into the fire as he mulled over the tale. Eventually, he looked up and said softly, "And now you fear that because I share the same power, I shall become another Miraak."
"It's not merely you," Agrein said. "Miraak was the first Dragonborn, but he was not the last. We occasionally hear tales from our cousins in Skyrim, and over the centuries, other Dovahkiin have been discovered. All inevitably became corrupted by their own power, and most eventually met a gruesome demise, either because they were overconfident and tried to complete a task that was beyond their abilities, or because the very people they oppressed rose up against them and slew them, just as Vahlok did to Miraak."
"Then I shall consider these tales a cautionary lesson." Vahkiir shrugged indifferently, though his stomach was starting to roil with concern. "After all, I have no interest in oppressing others."
"Neither did many of the other Dragonborn, at least at first," Agrein said. "However, it is in the very nature of a dragon to dominate, to seek to rule over others and control them as thralls. Worse, draconic nature and human nature are not too dissimilar in that regard. Men certainly are not immune to the allure of limitless power. Many Dragonborn eventually indulged in petty crimes and cruelties. Sometimes they would remorselessly rob innocents, when they would not have dared before. Others attacked unarmed men and women on a whim, even murdering them in some cases. And why should they not? After all, who could challenge them? Who could stop them?"
Vahkiir's mouth fell open, horrified. "That's vile!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, it is," Agrein agreed with a grim nod. "Sadly, there are many such examples of Dragonborn who gleefully partook in these petty crimes throughout history."
"But I am not like them!" Vahkiir protested.
"Aren't you?" Muldok interjected coldly. Vahkiir turned towards him and narrowed his eyes. "Can you truly say you would not do the same, now that you know of your power?"
"Yes!" Vahkiir snapped, insulted by Muldok's suggestion.
"Truly?!" Muldok repeated. "You have always struggled to control your temper. You have even challenged me, your chieftain, on more than one occasion. That sounds to me as though you would happily dominate us, given the chance."
Vahkiir's mouth hung open, indignation and fury welling up inside him. "I have challenged you because you are a poor chieftain!" Vahkiir bellowed, taking a step forward. "You are lazy and arrogant in equal measure, demanding our respect while doing nothing to earn it! However, I have never challenged you for the title of chieftain after it was given to you!" He took another step forward, inwardly delighting at how Muldok seemed to shy away from his advance. "And I am not the only man on this island who struggles with anger! Am I to be condemned because I am not as unfeeling as stone?! What of you, Muldok?! We quarrel constantly, and you always display as much anger as I! Should you not be judged as well?!"
"Vahkiir!" Agrein said sharply, and Vahkiir swung to glare at him in turn. "This is not merely about your displays of anger, but the fact that you possess a dragon's soul as well! We Skaal live in harmony with Solstheim, maintaining a careful balance between ourselves and nature. By its very existence, a Dragonborn threatens that balance."
"As I said, I am not like the Nords of your stories!" Vahkiir cried, extending his arms wide in entreaty. "I am a Skaal! I have always followed our ways! I do not hunt more than I need! I only take wood that has fallen from the trees!" The other three were silent for several long moments, looking away from him, until he demanded, "What do you wish of me?! A pledge that I shall not become like Miraak?! I will happily swear it upon whatever you wish, from the lives of my family to the All-Father himself!"
Agrein shook his head sadly. "I afraid that simply will not be enough for us," he murmured.
Vahkiir slowly lowered his arms, glancing between the trio. "Wh… what are you saying?" he stammered, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Agrein sighed heavily, then peered up at Vahkiir from beneath his bushy white eyebrows. "I am afraid that we cannot allow a Dragonborn to threaten the delicate balance that we maintain here. To that end… we have decided that you must be exiled from our village."
Vahkiir felt as though he had been struck with an arrow. His knees buckled under him, and he fell to the floor, blood pounding in his ears. "What?" he whispered, hoping that he had heard improperly.
Muldok stalked over to him, folding his arms over his chest and scowling down at him. "Vahkiir the Wanderer. You are to be expelled from this village," the chieftain announced clearly, his voice echoing off the walls. As he spoke, Vahkiir noticed a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You have until sundown tomorrow to gather whatever belongings you wish to take, and then you must depart. We will not banish you from this island, if you wish to make your home in the forests to the south, but you cannot live amongst the Skaal any longer." He sighed heavily, then added, "Be grateful for this mercy. We were strongly considering feeding you to the wolves, but we chose to be lenient."
Vahkiir stared up at him, too shocked to be furious with him. He slowly looked past the chieftain towards his mother, who was looking away. "All of you feel this way?" he asked hoarsely.
Kunsil turned towards him and shook her head. "Not I," she said firmly, turning to fix the other two with a glare. "I know you, son. It does not matter if a dragon's soul also lies within you. You are not the dragon. While you are rash and temperamental, you are also compassionate and honest, and I truly believe those traits outweigh your anger." She sighed deeply, then added, "However, I am only one voice among three."
"But… you cannot exile me for a crime I have not committed!" Vahkiir cried.
"It does not matter if you have committed a crime or not," Muldok snarled. "This is not about your actions, but what you carry within you. It is no different than ordering you to leave the village because you were stricken with some horrific disease."
Vahkiir rounded on him, his brown eyes wide with rage. "You are the blight upon the Skaal, Muldok!" he bellowed. "We have only grown weaker since you assumed the role of chieftain! Perhaps, for the sake of our people, I should remove you!"
Vahkiir began to lunge at Muldok, who raised his hands and prepared meet Vahkiir's charge, but before the men could collide, Kunsil shouted, "Stop!" Despite his anger, Vahkiir halted mid-stride, and Kunsil quickly continued, "If you do this, you will only prove them right! You will show that you cannot control yourself! That you only seek to dominate! That you would slay any who might pose a threat to you!"
His mother's words washed over him like cold water, cutting through the red haze creeping in on the corners of his vision. He stood a few feet from Muldok, his shoulders heaving as he breathed heavily, while the chieftain watched him warily with his hands raised, still clearly anticipating an attack. As his fury faded, however, an idea slowly crept into Vahkiir's mind.
"You… said that attacking him would prove that I cannot control myself, yes?" he asked slowly as he straightened up. "What if I could do the opposite? What if I could somehow prove that I can control myself, that I would not be tempted by promises of power?"
Kunsil and Agrein glanced at each other, while Muldok scoffed in disbelief. "And how would you do that?" he demanded. "As we said, even if you were to make such a pledge, we would not accept it."
"I don't know!" Vahkiir snapped furiously, before inhaling sharply and lowering his voice. "But you said that your fear is based upon the actions of other Dragonborn. What if I could somehow prove that I was different? If I could show that I would never seek to dominate our people, and that I would do all that I could to maintain the balance upon Solstheim… then you would have no reason to exile me, yes?"
Muldok rolled his eyes and shook his head, immediately declining his proposal. Behind him, however, Kunsil and Agrein were whispering to each other. Vahkiir stared at them intently, his heart pounding furiously, as they spoke for several long moments. Finally, Agrein turned back to Vahkiir and nodded.
"Very well," he agreed. "If you can somehow demonstrate that you can indeed resist the greed of the dragon within you, then yes, we would rescind your exile and allow you to return to the village."
Muldok swung around, gaping at the pair in disbelief. "What?!" he shouted.
"You said yourself that he has committed no crime," Kunsil pointed out, unable to keep a smug smirk off her face. "If this is not a punishment, then he deserves the opportunity to prove that our suspicions are unfounded."
"No! You already agreed to banish him from the village!" Muldok cried. "You cannot rescind your judgement now!"
"And we have not," Agrein replied evenly. He leaned to the side, gazing pointedly at Vahkiir. "Until you have proven yourself, Vahkiir, our decision stands. You must leave this village by sundown tomorrow. Only after you have demonstrated your mastery over your own instincts will you be allowed to return, and we will determine if your actions are sufficient to make us reconsider our judgement."
"But-!" Muldok protested.
Kunsil narrowed her eyes at the chieftain. "Just as I cannot overrule you two with my voice alone, neither can you, boy," she snarled. "Be silent!"
Muldok was about to snap in return, but when Agrein also narrowed his eyes, he slowly closed his mouth. His gaze flitted from the two elders to Vahkiir, and then he growled to himself. "Very well. It's likely you'll perish before you return anyways, Wanderer. Just know that I shall never alter my decision. I know what you truly are," he snapped at Vahkiir as he pushed his way past him and stormed out of the longhouse. The trio stared after him until the door slammed shut behind him, whereupon Vahkiir turned back around in time to see Agrein sigh and rub his eyes.
"A pity that the chieftain is the strongest of the Skaal, but not necessarily the wisest," he murmured to himself.
"Wisdom is given by the shaman and the elder, my friend," Kunsil chuckled. "And strength is necessary to protect our people. Though I do concur that next time we should seek a chieftain who is at least wise enough to listen to his elders."
Vahkiir smiled slightly, then asked hesitantly, "Does that mean that you might reconsider your judgement? It's clear that Muldok simply wishes me gone from the village because he hates me-"
"He does," Agrein agreed, folding his legs under him and leaning forward slightly. "However, my reasons for asking you to leave the village remain the same. I bear you no ill will, Vahkiir, but I cannot ignore the tales about the Dragonborn. In truth, I would not be disappointed if you were to prove me wrong, but until then, I must stand by my decision."
Vahkiir sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "I see…." he murmured despondently. He then glanced up and asked, "May I at least take my family with me?"
Agrein and Kunsil glanced at each other. "They are not bound to this village," Agrein replied. "They may follow you into exile if they wish, and as we have not banished them, they are free to return if they so choose. However, I would warn you that if you intend to convince us that we are mistaken about the nature of the Dragonborn, you may have to travel a great distance. You must ask yourself if it is truly fair to ask your family to join you."
Vahkiir nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on the floor. "I see," he murmured. While he wanted to dispute Agrein's response, privately, he had to admit that the elder was right. "Very well. I suppose that I should prepare myself for my journey, then."
"Before you do, I would like to offer you some advice about where you might go," Kunsil said. When Vahkiir looked up and nodded, she continued, "First, do you recall that voice from a few nights ago? The one that shouted 'Dovahkiin'?" Vahkiir nodded again. "To me, that sounded like a summons. I do not know who or what might have called for you, but if something that powerful knows your true nature, then it would be wise to seek it out."
"Is that so?" Vahkiir murmured. "Do you know where I might begin search, then?"
Kunsil quirked her mouth thoughtfully. "It is said that the mightiest wielders of the Voice reside in Skyrim. The Nords of that land may know better than I. It would be prudent to begin your search there."
Vahkiir grunted in acknowledgement. "I shall consider it," he muttered. "And your second word of advice?"
Kunsil leaned forward slightly. "Do you remember the tales I used to tell you about your grandfather?" she asked.
Vahkiir frowned slightly. "Of course," he replied. "You said that he was a Nordic merchant from Skyrim who came to Solstheim to ask about harvesting the timber from our forests. He stayed with the Skaal for half a year, begging us to allow him to take what he wished. We refused every time because we could not give what was not ours, and neither would we allow him to take from the island without giving in return. He finally became frustrated and left, but not before leaving grandmother with a child – you."
"Indeed," Kunsil sighed, a bitter frown on her face. "Now, in truth, though I am half Nord, I know little of their ways. I do not know how sacred the bonds of kinship and the laws of hospitality are in Skyrim, but if you intend to travel to that realm, you should begin your journey in the city of Winterhold. It is not far from Solstheim, actually. There, you might seek out your grandfather's family, a clan by the name of Farwalker. I do not know if they will receive you as a cousin, but I believe it is worth the attempt. If anyone is likely to offer you aid in a foreign land, it is your own family, distant though they may be."
Vahkiir tilted his head slightly at his mother's sour expression. He knew that she despised his grandfather, thinking him little more than a greedy, self-centered lout who had abandoned her mother. It must have pained her greatly to suggest he seek out their Nordic kin. "Thank you," Vahkiir said softly. He then turned to Agrein. "Anything else?"
Agrein shook his head slowly. "Only that you should prepare well for your journey," he said. "You are an excellent hunter, and you are more than capable of surviving in the wilds, but be forewarned that Tamriel holds dangers you have never seen before. Still, if you remain on your guard and stay true to our ways, I have no doubt you will survive this challenge." The old man then gave him a semi-toothless smile. "May fortune go with you. I sincerely hope you do prove us wrong, Vahkiir. When you do, we shall welcome you back with open arms."
Despite himself, Vahkiir felt a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Save for Muldok," he remarked.
Agrein chuckled lightly. "Even the chieftain cannot overrule the elders alone," he replied. "May the All-Father watch over you, Wanderer."
Vahkiir swallowed hard, then nodded and slowly walked out of the longhouse. As he stepped outside, a sharp wind blew in his face, making him squint. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Muldok lingering beside the door with his arms folded, glaring at him malevolently, but he said nothing. Vahkiir ignored him and trudged back across the snow towards his hut.
As he approached, he saw that Strunheim and Brevyn had already managed to clear most of the roof. To his surprise, Strunheim was laughing as he watched Brevyn stretch as far as he could with the spade clutched in one hand, struggling to knock the last bits of snow from the top of the hut.
"Come on…!" Brevyn growled. When he saw Vahkiir approaching, he called out, "Why in Azura's name did you build this so high?!"
"Father!" Strunheim exclaimed, hurrying over to meet him. "Brevyn is-!" He stopped short, however, when he saw how pale his father was. "What is it?" he asked, his smile vanishing instantly.
Vahkiir sighed heavily. "Go fetch your mother and sisters," he said quietly, the words feeling as heavy as lead in his mouth. "There is something I must tell you all."
Odreth's sobbing wails filled the hut as she clung to Vahkiir's side, her face buried in his coat. Gutha leaned against the other side of his chest, where – to Vahkiir's mild surprise – she had tears silently streaming down her face, though she wasn't bawling the way her sister was. Strunheim, meanwhile, paced furiously back and forth across the floor, his fists clenched tightly by his sides and his face contorted with fury. Brit silently stood beside the door, her arms folded over her chest and her face unreadable as she mulled what Vahkiir had told her.
"So, if I might ask… what do you intend to do?" Brevyn asked. He was crouching in front of the fire, gently prodding it with a long branch as he gazed curiously up at Vahkiir.
Vahkiir shook his head. "I'm still uncertain," he said, raising his voice to be heard over Odreth's crying. "My mother suggested that I might travel to Tamriel, but… since I must prove that I can resist the temptation of power to have my exile rescinded, I am uncertain if I should. After all, how would they hear that I am holding to my oath if I am in another land entirely?"
Brevyn nodded in agreement, a faint frown on his face. "It's quite the riddle you must solve," he commented. "Most undertake quests to gain renown. A quest to prove that you will not seek to elevate yourself… that is quite a puzzle."
"Indeed," Vahkiir agreed with a soft sigh. "And in truth, I am loath to leave the island. Even if I cannot venture into the village, I would be more at ease knowing that my family is nearby if they have need of me. So, if I do not leave-"
"I believe you should," Brit commented suddenly.
Every face turned towards her, all wearing expressions of surprise or shock. Odreth was the first to break the silence. "You cannot truly wish for Father to leave us!"
"I do not, no," Brit agreed with a sigh, pushing herself away from the door. "But if he must…."
"I will not abandon you and the children," Vahkiir stated firmly as Odreth's small arms tightened around him. "Muldok may banish me from the village, but I will be damned if he thinks he can force me from the island. I could build a house outside of the village and watch over you and the children whenever you venture out into the wilds. After all, if I cannot protect my family whenever possible, then what good am I as a father and a husband?"
Brit gazed at him quietly for a long moment, then turned to Brevyn. "Would you be so kind as to take the children outside for a moment?" she asked quietly. "If you take them to the hut at the southwest corner of the longhouse, you will find an old woman named Ingrun. Ask her if she has some sap candy that she can give to the children. They could certainly use it right now."
Brevyn tilted his head at her slightly, then nodded and pushed himself to his feet. However, while Gutha dutifully began to push herself up as well, Strunheim scowled defiantly, and Odreth shrieked and dug her fingers into Vahkiir's ribs.
"I'm not hungry-!" Strunheim began.
"Enough!" Brit barked, her voice echoing off the walls. Odreth immediately stopped crying, and while Strunheim continued to glower, he fell silent. "I must speak with your father alone! Go with Brevyn! No arguments!"
The children flinched at her shouting, then reluctantly began to shuffle towards the door. As he passed by, Brit gave Brevyn a grateful nod, then turned back to Vahkiir as the door shut behind the elf.
"I… must apologize to you," Vahkiir murmured as she walked over to take a seat beside him. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his crossed legs as he stared into the fire. "I know that I have not always been the best partner to you. I have always enjoyed wandering the island alone, and I know that it was difficult for you and the children to be left alone for days at a time. However, please know that I never intended to leave you all forever. If I had known that this would happen, I would have cherished my time with you more-"
"You needn't apologize," Brit assured him softly, nudging his shoulder with hers. "No matter how often you left on one of your hunts, I always knew you would return to us eventually. Also, you are not at fault for possessing a dragon's soul, any more than I am at fault for having blue eyes." She then pulled away slightly and turned his face towards her. "However, as I said, I do believe you should leave the island and explore Tamriel, at least for a time."
Vahkiir frowned deeply. "To what end?" he asked slowly.
Brit chuckled lightly. "Come now, Vahkiir. We have been married since we were sixteen, and while we've never shared a deep, passionate romance, we have always gotten along well. We're a good match. More importantly, in that time, I have come to know you, better than anyone else in the village, save perhaps for your mother. In all the years I have watched you, you have always been restless. No matter how far you ventured from the village, you never appeared satisfied. Your eyes were ever on the horizon, and even when you were at rest, you seemed to be planning your next trek into the wilds. In truth, Solstheim has always seemed to be a cage for you – one that you were eager to break free from."
"Well… yes, I will confess that I have often wondered how much of the world I have yet to see, and more than once, I wished that I could venture forth to explore it a bit more," Vahkiir admitted. "But I have you and the children to care for. Rather, I wish to watch over you and the children, more than I wish to see more of Nirn."
Brit smiled faintly. "I know that you love the children and I deeply," she assured him. "But we have also always bound you to this village, even when it was clear that you would rather roam the island. At times, you remind me of a hawk that is tied to a perch, struggling to free yourself." She shifted a bit closer, peering into his eyes. "Now you have been given the chance to travel wherever you wish."
Vahkiir narrowed his eyes. "Only because the curse I bear has been uncovered," he muttered. "What sort of fool would wish to be Dragonborn? I would gladly be rid of it, especially if having it means that I must lose my family."
Brit shook her head. "You have not and will not lose us," she said emphatically, turning to put her hands on his shoulders. "If, after you return, the elders still will not lift your exile, then the children and I will go with you, wherever you may choose. We can make a life for ourselves elsewhere, difficult as that may be. However, I believe that you must travel to Tamriel, at least for a time, or your wanderlust will never be sated." She smiled slightly and leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. "So, go. Leave this island and see what awaits you in the wider world. And if you choose to return, know that you will return to us, no matter what the elders decree."
Vahkiir opened his mouth, then slowly closed it when Brit scowled at him. "I… very well," he agreed softly. "However, I will still strive to convince the elders to lift my exile. It is unfair that the children may have to leave their home for my sake. I cannot force that upon them."
Brit chuckled and squeezed his shoulders again, before releasing him. "And that is why you're a good man, Vahkiir. And why I'm certain you'll succeed."
Brit then leaned in a bit closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder. They sat in silence for several minutes, until they heard a knock at the door. It opened a crack, and Strunheim hesitantly peered inside. "May we return?" he asked.
Vahkiir sighed and nodded, motioning for them to rejoin him and Brit. The children filed into the hut, clutching small, semi-transparent squares of hard candy made of pine sap. While the girls were sucking on theirs, Strunheim was simply holding his without any apparent interest in enjoying it. His eyes never left his father's as he took a seat across from him, while the girls settled beside him once again.
"Your mother and I have spoken, and I have come to a decision," Vahkiir announced. He glanced at Brit, who nodded encouragingly. "I will leave this island for a time and travel to Tamriel. Before you say anything-!" he shouted, to head off Odreth's wailing and Strunheim's indignant shout. "Know that I will not be leaving forever. It may be a long while before we see each other again, true, but I would ask that you simply think of it as my leaving for a very long hunt. I will return."
"But you shouldn't have to go!" Odreth cried.
Vahkiir sighed and put his hand on his daughter's head to comfort her. "I wish I didn't have to either," he said softly. "But sometimes fate forces trials upon us that we must face, whether we wish to or not. This is one such trial. As I said, though, I will not leave forever."
"Then how long will you be gone?" Gutha asked quietly.
Vahkiir shook his head. "I cannot say," he admitted. "Months, perhaps. I shall not lie to you – it will be a long while. Until then, I ask you all to have courage and strength. Can you do that?"
As the girls nodded up at him, Brevyn walked around to stand beside Brit's fletching table. "You are resolved to go to the mainland, then?" he asked.
"I am," Vahkiir said firmly. "The shaman suggested that I might travel to Skyrim."
Brevyn nodded. "Very well. Then I shall go with you."
Vahkiir blinked up at him, slightly surprised. "You needn't-" he began.
"I cannot stay here forever," Brevyn chuckled. "I also still need to return to my people and give them the claw that I stole, so if you are bound for the mainland, I may as well join you. Besides, it's dangerous to travel alone. I would be much more at ease journeying with a companion, especially one who has already proven that they know how to survive in the wilds. Furthermore, you shall need a guide. Tamriel is far more vast than this tiny island, and while I cannot claim to have visited every corner of the continent, I have seen more of it than you, especially Veloth and Skyrim.
"But are you not wanted by the Nords?" Vahkiir pointed out. "If we travel to Skyrim, will they not seek your head?"
Brevyn waved away with a dismissive flick of his hand. "I am wanted in my home village, yes, but only for petty thievery. The common Nord knows nothing of me. In truth, I'm likely safer in Skyrim than I am in Veloth, especially if I were accompanied by a Nord."
"But I'm not-" Vahkiir began.
"Most would be unable to tell the difference between a Nord and a Skaal," Brevyn assured him with a chuckle, before his expression turned serious. "I owe you a debt, Vahkiir. You saved my life and brought me into your home, even when you knew nothing about me. As such, I cannot do any less for you. If you are bound for Skyrim, then I shall do all that I can to aid and protect you until you find whatever it is you are seeking. It would be an honor to join you… if you would like."
Vahkiir hesitated, considering the elf's proposal. He still wasn't certain if he wholly trusted Brevyn, but in the few days that he had known him, the Chimer had not proven himself a threat. Even when Brevyn had been left with his children, he had been no less trustworthy than any other member of the village. Furthermore, if he was to travel to the mainland, it would be better to do so with someone he was at least acquainted with. Brevyn did also know the lands of Tamriel better than he. Unless he intended to blindly wander the continent and pray that the All-Father was kind to him, it would be wise to accept his offer.
"Very well," Vahkiir nodded. "And… thank you."
As Brevyn smiled, Strunheim suddenly announced, "I will join you as well!"
"No!" Vahkiir and Brit exclaimed simultaneously. Strunheim's eyes widened at their forceful denial, then scowled and folded his arms over his chest. Vahkiir pushed himself up and walked over to his son, placing his large hands on the boy's shoulders.
"No," Vahkiir repeated, much more gently. "Your courage is admirable, son, and normally, I would be glad to have you accompany us. However, if I am to be gone for months, then you must look after our family in my stead. Your sisters will need you to protect them while I cannot."
Strunheim's stance relaxed slightly as he glanced over at the two girls. "But… I still have much to learn from you," he murmured. "I can barely use a bow. I have not even slain my first elk. Yet now you expect me to watch over them?"
Vahkiir sighed and squeezed his son's shoulders. "I know that I am placing a heavy burden upon you, Strunheim," he said. "And for that, I am sorry. However, as I've said, there are times when we cannot decide our own fates. We can only acknowledge that the road before us is difficult, and then walk it as best we can. You are a bright, courageous boy, and I would not ask this of you if I did not believe you capable of fulfilling my request. I am certain that you can look after the family while I am gone."
"And you will not do so alone," Brit chuckled, walking over and putting her hand on top of his head. "There is much that I can do on my own, Strunheim, so you needn't worry about taking your father's place. I will only ask that if I give you to a task, you complete it to the best of your ability, and without complaint. If you can do that, all will be well."
Strunheim glanced between his parents, then sighed and murmured, "I would still rather go with you."
Vahkiir shook his head. "As would I. Truly. But you are needed here."
Strunheim nodded, but he didn't meet his father's gaze. He shrugged his parents' hands off and muttered, "Very well."
Brit reached for him, but he ducked out of her grasp and slowly wandered out of the hut. She began to go after him, but Vahkiir caught her by the shoulder and shook his head. "Leave him be," he said softly.
Brit sighed softly, then turned to her daughters. "Well then. Tonight, we're going to be having your father's favorite meal before he leaves. To that end, we will need some ingredients. Gutha, I'd like you to find some gull eggs. Odreth, I need you to fetch some sprigs of juniper. Can you both do that?"
The two girls nodded and hurried out of the house. Brit smiled slightly, then turned to Vahkiir. "We should still have some horker meat left, so I'll get started cutting that up. If you wouldn't mind, would you fetch some more wood for the fire?" She then stepped closer and stood on her toes to breathe in his ear, "And later tonight, I'll give you something else to encourage you to return home swiftly."
Vahkiir chuckled as Brit pulled away and turned towards the rafters, searching for the freshest strips of horker meat they had available. As he watched her, he felt the twisting nausea that filled his stomach dissipate slightly. Although he still had no wish to leave the island, it was comforting to know that no matter what, she and the children would be waiting for him, and that even if he failed to convince the elders to lift his exile, they would be willing to follow him into the wilds. Now, it was his duty to ensure that they didn't need to make that sacrifice for him. He still didn't know how he would prove himself, but he now felt that he could leave without reservation… and he was more motivated than ever to finish his task quickly so that he could return to what truly mattered to him. And in the meantime, he thought with a faint smile as he went to retrieve the wood, he would cherish what little time they had left together.
A/N: Apologies for the delayed release of this chapter. I had a slew of computer problems that threw off my schedule. Fortunately, they seem to have been resolved for now. I'll release the next chapter before the 10th of February, and the one after that by the end of the month, and then I'll return to my regular release dates of the 15th and the end of the month.