I added doors to all of the inns because it's honestly weird that many of the inns do not have doors.

As the strange pair walked towards Falkreath, Cyldris kept wanting to break the silence, but it was strange to have a former Thalmor commander at his side. He knew that he needed to gain his trust. They both did. "So, um," the Bosmer gingerly began, "do you miss your home?"

"To an extent."

"Same with me. I miss my home…to an extent." He tried not think of Valenwood.

Ondolemar glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

He looked around the plains with blue skies. "Skyrim is beautiful, isn't it?"

"A bit too cold for my tastes…."

"I agree. I travel the north only during the summers, but even in the winter, all of Skyrim is cold." He looked up at him. "Do you like traveling?"

"…To an extent."

"It is tiring at times, but, oh," he pleasantly smiled, "the things you see and people you meet."

"Answer me truthfully, Cyldris: have you personally had…issues with the Thalmor?"

Cyldris frowned, looking away. "I-I do not wish to talk about it. At least…not yet."

"I understand. If my presence makes you uncomfortable in anyway–"

He quickly waved his hands, looking up at him with alarmed eyes. "No, no! I want you to stay. I think Auri-El brought our paths together for a reason." He smiled. "Besides, it's been awhile since I've had a traveling companion. The last time I did was several years ago in High Rock. A Breton. He only travel with me for a day, though. He, uh, fell in love and stayed behind." He glanced at the Altmer's bloodied robes. "We should get you new clothing. You're not Thalmor anymore and they are ruined."

He looked down at the blood-stained gash. "I suppose you're right." There was uncertainty in his tone. He looked at him. "You really are devoted to Auri-El, aren't you?"

"I am! Sometimes He's the only friend I have." He gave a crooked smile.

Ondolemar stared at him.

"He's a good listener. Sometimes he talks back."

"He…does?" He arched a brow.

"Sometimes. He's surprisingly loud. With an accent I never heard before." He chuckled, then swallowed, noticing where they were located. "We're coming up on Rorikstead. if the guards recognize me…."

"Where were the murders?"

"Closer to Whiterun."

"With our luck, they won't recognize you here."

Cyldris slightly nodded. "Hopefully…."

They came around the bend, entering Rorikstead. Since the Empire won over Skyrim a year ago, everyone was used to seeing the Thalmor. Cyldris didn't like the fact that the Empire had won and now Talos was lost the Nords and to anyone else who followed Him. It wasn't right. It was high time he left Skyrim, anyway. The guards and people of Rorikstead did glance at the Bosmer and Thalmor. Cyldris' heart was slamming against his chest, trying not to make eye contact to anyone. He had the classic sandy-brown Bosmeri hair that stood out right, so hopefully he would look like any other traveling Wood Elf…that traveled with a Thalmor. The walk through the town felt too long, but when they were out, he released a breath, not realizing he was holding it.

"You really have no idea who killed those people?" Ondolemar suddenly asked when out earshot of anyone.

Cyldris shook his head. "No. Every time I try to think about it it's blurry. I just remember finding them dead."

"Who were they?"

"Farmers. Recently built the farm, too. I was wounded by a saber cat and shock prevented me from healing properly. It was a couple. Nords. Hilda and Styrr. They took me in and nursed me back to health."

Ondolemar looked at him. "Where did the cat get you?"

"It swiped my back to my side." He gestured in a claw-like motion from the center of his back wrapping around to his lower left side. "It got me from behind. I heard a growl and just as I turned, it was right in front of me. I had to fight back, but I was already bleeding profusely, so I had one shot. Just as it tried to bite me, I got it in its jugular with my axe. Poor creature was just hungry, but I wanted to live." He snorted with a sad smile. "It was a blessing that I came across the farm…." He looked in the direction of the farm that was between Rorikstead and Whiterun, but it was not in view from where they were. He inhaled, looking back ahead of himself. "Days later, they were killed. My horse is there, too, but I can't go back to get her." He missed Theo.

"I'm sorry."

"I want to find the ones who did it, but I doubt I ever will. Oh! I had a bandit camp help me just before I met you."

Ondolemar looked at him, arching a pointed brow. "You did?"

Cyldris, as promised, told the story of the bandits' kindness and the look of disbelief on the Thalmor's face was priceless.

Ondolemar cracked a smile. "You are a strange, little fellow, you know that? Making friend with bandits, Thalmor– Anything else like Daedra?"

The Wood Elf laughed. "Oh, gods no! I do not consort with Daedra! Anything but!"

For the first time in an hour, they shared a laugh, but it ended abruptly, when Ondolemar shoved Cyldris out of the way and a bolt of electricity shot from his hand. The Wood Elf spun to find a Dunmeri man wearing a strange golden helmet with fur armor, twitching on the ground from the electricity coursing through his body.

Ondolemar was about to strike again, but Cyldris held out an arm. "Wait!" He approached the wounded man. "Who are you?"

"We…a-are followers of the Mad God. We are or-rdered to kill the Bosmer that walks with…the Th-Thalmor." His body kept spasming.

"That's oddly specific…." He murmured. "And strange, too, since we just joined each other's company a mere hour ago. Who ordered you?"

The man deviously smiled.

Ondolemar joined at his side. "I can make him talk."

Cyldris held out a hand without looking at his companion. "No. We will not torture him. Who sent you?"

"Kinthal. You will find him east of Karthwasten, on a hill. He wants you dead. Why?" He tittered. "That's a sssssecret," he sang.

"Thank you." He raised his axe and brought it down on the Dunmer's chest, killing him. Noticing a gleaming, golden axe close to the Dunmer, he dropped his own bloodied one and picked it up. "Interesting."

"I have never seen such a metal before," Ondolemar commented.

"Nor have I."

"You did not tell me you had enemies."

He looked up at his companion. "I didn't know myself. It's strange how he knew that I traveled with you even though we just met…." He holstered the golden axe at his right hip.

"Maybe he was following you?"

"From the prison or bandit camp? That doesn't make sense." He looked at the dead elf and removed the strange helmet. "I never even saw him in my life." He dropped the helmet and sighed. "Either way," he looked back at his companion, "you saved my life. Your debt as been repaid and I fear that my journey to Morrowind may have been postponed. I wish to see this…Kinthal."

"I wish to join you."

Cyldris was puzzled. "Why? Your debt–"

Ondolemar held up a gloved hand. "Someone is trying to kill you. Someone who is associated with Sheogorath and knows too much about you. How would they know that I am with you when we have just met? I wish to know myself and to aide you."

"You…you don't have to."

"I want to."

"Thank you," he softly replied.

"Come, let's go to Falkreath, then we shall go from there."

Looking at the dead man once more, Cyldris joined his companion's side as they continued their way in thoughtful silence.

After a half-hour walk, they entered the Falkreath Hold. Cyldris was able to breathe. He was out of Whiterun Hold and now he had freedom. The walk around Lake Ilinalta was a beautiful and peaceful view. It almost made Cyldris want to stop and fish, but they pressed on. If he did have a home, it would be in this wooded area by the lake. Woods, lake, and away from the city with his own garden and farm– How peaceful it would be. Also, if he ever did need to go to the city, Falkreath was a small, open city and wasn't closed off unlike others are. No gates, just go straight through. Perhaps, it would be nice to have a home, but if he did, then he would have to abandon it for Morrowind. There's not point in staying in Skyrim if he was a wanted man in two holds. He traveled too much. "Do you have a home in Markarth?" He suddenly wondered.

"No, I stayed in the Keep."

"Do you have a home?"

"My family's home in the Summerset Isles."

"Ah."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious. Oh! I only have twenty coins on me that the bandits graciously gave me. I don't know how much you have, but just so you are aware. I also personally tend to stay on a tight budget."

"Ah. That's fine. I hope to find new clothing in Falkreath. I assume we will stay the night?"

Cyldris wasn't a fan of sleeping indoors when the night would be clear, but after staying a couple of nights in prison cells, a bed sounded wonderful. "We are."

"Excellent. I had a long day of travel. I left at ungodly hours this morning and slowly bleeding out under the sun for a couple of hours is exhausting. I'm just glad it wasn't the afternoon sun."

"In that case, we will definitely stay at the inn."

It was around two in the afternoon when the pair had finally arrived to the foggy city. Despite its gloomy aura, it was Cyldris' favorite city in the land. They stopped by the general goods store where Ondolemar bought a blue tunic and good boots. He got changed behind the shop with Cyldris keeping eye out and once the Altmer stepped from behind in his new clothing, Cyldris felt relief. He was no longer traveling with his kin's mortal enemy.

The Thalmor robes were disposed in a nearby barrel, but Ondolemar did not share Cyldris' relief. He just stared at the barrel. "For many years I wore those robes…. Now, I have truly no idea what I am going to do with my life." He looked down at his knew garments. "And to wear such clothing…." He spat the word like it disgusted him. "I would never had thought that I would be–"

"A commoner?" Cyldirs folded his arms, trying to hide his amusement.

Ondolemar looked at him. "Forgive me. This is all very new to me."

"I understand." He blinked, noticing a silver amulet around the Altmer's neck. "You still have the Thalmor necklace."

He gently touched the silver medallion with the Thalmor's sigil on it. "I have yet to be able to bring myself to remove it. This transition is happening all too fast."

Cyldris nodded. "I do understand. Take your time." Deep down, he was afraid the Mer would take too much time.

Ondolemar looked at him, dropping his hand form the medallion. "Thank you."

"Want to get a bite to eat at the inn?"

"Please. The jerky was not enough."

They went inside the Dead Man's Drink and ordered ale and a light late lunch. Sitting at a table opened more discussion. Interests, hobbies…. Cyldris never took the Altmer as a painter! Listening to him talk about art was like listening to the breeze in the leaves. It flowed out of him so naturally and passionately. The man needed to create. Perhaps once he has his life settled away from the Thalmor, he would be able to focus on creating. He suddenly found himself watching the Altmer's thin lips as he spoke. Embarrassed, he looked away from his companion to take a drink, but still keenly listening.

"Forgive my rambling," Ondolemar suddenly said, smirking. "I go on too much." He took a drink.

"No, No!" Cyldris immediately looked back at him. "Your passion…it's inspiring. You should do something with it."

Ondolemar smiled so softly that his golden eyes shone like water reflecting the sun's brilliant rays. "Thank you. Your compliment is…endearing. I appreciate it."

Cyldris felt himself flush under the Mer's gentle gaze. He smiled. "I love seeing people passionate about their loves in life." He took a sip of his own drink. "It's the little things in life."

"Traveling is your big thing. What's your little thing?"

"Fishing. I enjoy to fish and listen to nature. The wind and water are my music along with the birds and frogs. That's my little thing, I suppose."

"So, is nature your hobby or is fishing?"

He laughed. "Both, I suppose."

"You help people, befriend anyone, and yet you ask for nothing in return. You're a vagabond who just wants adventure and friends."

"And peace," he laughed. "I also want peace."

"You've lived a lonely life, haven't you?"

Cyldris frowned. "Not…too lonely, no. I don't…." His voice faded, finding himself staring through the table.

"Forgive me for prying." Ondolemar gently said, taking a drink.

"You have a right to pry," he sadly smiled. "It's just…I never…. I don't know." He looked away once more.

"I'm not good at talking either. I understand."

Cyldris always thought of himself as being a great talker, but perhaps, his companion was right. He wasn't good at talking. Not really.

The Altmer downed the rest of his ale. "Well, I am exhausted. I am going to take a nap. It's been too long of a day for me." He stood up.

"Sleep well!"

Once his friend retired to his room and closed the door, Cyldris finished his own drink and left the inn to walk around town. He was already down to seven Septims. He needed to sell at least one potion to make him feel comfortable while he was in town with an alchemist. They were probably going to stay in Markarth next, so he had to prepare incase they arrived late.

After Ondolemar had awoken from his nap, the pair went their own way to wonder the town, but when evening came, they were both back at the inn having dinner and drinks. The local bard played the flute with people dancing. For a gloomy city, it came alive at the inn. Cyldris enjoyed the festivities and by the looks of it, so did the Altmer, but considering they had another long day of travel tomorrow, Cyldris went to bed early. However, before bed, he studied the golden axe. It's wasn't made of gold and had an amber-like tint to it. It was fascinating, really, and Kinthal. Never before had he heard such a name and how is he and that Dunmer linked to Sheogorath? How did they know that he was traveling with a Thalmor after meeting him an hour prior? None of this made sense. Putting the axe down with the rest of his gear, he sighed. "Auri-El, give me guidance…." He crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Cyldris woke up with a start and judging by how silent it was outside of the door, it was in the middle of the night. He replayed the dream over and over again. "No," he whispered with blood chilling in his veins. "No…." He buried his face in his pillow, trying not to cry. He truly did deserve to be executed if the dream was correct.