A/N: Life has gotten kind of hectic again, but I'm managing to keep up with writing so far! This chapter was a joy to write – I hope you like it.
'That's a big skin, for raana. Rough night?'
'Keep chuckling, and you won't get any.'
'Ouch. Touchy.'
It was early the next morning that Merrin and Farkas left Jorrvaskr and headed for the stables. It had been a rough night, for her at least; between becoming a thane, Vilkas' apology and this trip with Farkas, there'd been a lot to think about.
Overthink about. She'd caught maybe five hours, and she'd left the meadhall yawning like a bear and clutching her raana skin like it was water in the Alik'r.
It didn't look like a great day for traveling, either. The wind was already pretty strong, and the sky was heavy with lumpy leaden clouds. She'd worn an oiled slicker, but didn't relish the thought of it getting much use.
But it was impossible to be totally sour, with Farkas for company. He walked beside her with a spring in his step, like he didn't have a care in the world. Not long after he chuckled at her empty threat, he started whistling something catchy, and every time they passed someone, he'd wave.
He reminded her of Ria, that way.
The stablemaster and his son were already up and working when they got there, and readily showed them who was up for grabs in the livery. Merrin settled pretty quickly on a brown mare with white socks named Queen Alfsigr – Allie, for short – and was buying sacks of feed when Farkas came walking up leading a massive brindle charger.
'I usually get this guy,' he explained, when he saw her expression.
'He's the only one in these stables who can carry me an' my gear okay. His name is Ronan.'
'Well, hats off to Ronan,' she smiled, and at the sound of his name the gelding snorted and tossed his streaky brown mane. Farkas laughed.
They got busy with packing then, putting saddles on horses and bags on saddles. The killdeer should've been making a racket in the grass by now, but they were quiet – another sign of rain.
They paid the stablemaster what they owed him, mounted up, and after a moment's discussion they started down the road headed east from the city. Merrin eased Allie into a trot, falling in next to Farkas and staring up warily at the swollen sky.
They made it about ten minutes, before said sky opened up and it started to rain. All she could do was sigh.
The pass that skirted Labyrinthian's ruin in the Skyborn Range was too tricky in bad weather. So they were forced to go around, taking the same route she'd ridden with Avulstein. They weren't in any real hurry; this wasn't like the last time she'd ridden this road, with someone's life on the line. And no amount of hard riding would guarantee them somewhere dry to rest. So while they rode, they talked.
They spoke more about Farkas' trip, about Solitude. About the rain, and the landscape, and their horses' silly behaviour; Ronan seemed to fancy Allie, from what they could tell. But anytime the gelding got too close, the mare would shake her head and snap her teeth at him.
Poor Ronan, they laughed. No luck with the queen, huh?
They talked about their destination, far ahead; she'd been to Morthal, but never north of it, and eventually he would have to take the lead.
But he told her that was fine. By now he'd been to every hold in the province, and along most roads that connected them.
That sparked a while of talk about travel. He'd been a Companion since sixteen, and the work had taken him across Skyrim; he'd even been to Hammerfell, once. That had fascinated her.
'Did you see the Alik'r?'
He'd laughed.
'Hard to miss it, 'specially comin' from the north.'
He talked for a long time then, especially for Farkas' standards, and she peppered him with questions. He described the endless rippling sea of sand dunes, shifting under a boiling sun. The hard blue sky that stretched farther than eyes could see, without a single cloud on the horizon. The cities he'd seen between the endless sands, each with a different personality; Dragonstar, grand and imposing with its massive walls in the mountains, a melting pot of Redguard, Breton and Nord. Colorful Skaven, holding fast to the last of its Yokudan heritage, never silent. And finally Sentinel, gritty as it was beautiful, sandstone buildings bleached by the sun, beaten by the wind, crusted white in the salt of the Abecean sea it sat so perilously close to.
'Not enough water to even fill your cup – and then bam! All the water in the world. Right there, Mer.'
He told her about the people, and the dancing. The fighting. Eating pomegranates for the first time – then tried to describe the taste of a pomegranate. He couldn't stop snickering while he told her that the warriors in the Alik'r had curved swords – Get it, Mer? But the thing that delighted her the most was the camels. They sounded magnificent, the way he described them – on par with any horse. Smart and cheeky, hard-wearing and spirited.
She was so wrapped up in his story-telling, she didn't come out of her reverie until he asked what about you? Where have you been? And then she told him.
As far east as she could go in Skyrim, and then farther still. From Windhelm and Riften to Morrowind – through the Velothi and into Blacklight, where the new capital clung to the edge of the land, jutting out into the sea. Across Vvardenfell, still rebuilding, and down as far as Bal Foyen with its pirates. West over the Valus to cross into Cyrodiil, where she'd seen the gleaming Imperial City wreathed in lake Rumare. As far south as Bravil, charming and sleazy, and then northwest to the gilted glamor of Skingrad. Taking the Orange Road from Chorrol to Bruma, a city that always made her ache for home. Through the serene and rocky Jeralls and back into southern Skyrim.
She was so entrenched in memory that she didn't even notice, when the rain stopped. It wasn't until the birds and insects finally started chirring that she realized, and when she looked at Farkas, he was smiling.
'You love to travel, huh?'
'Almost more than anything.'
They stopped along the White river for the horses to drink, and despite her early threat, Merrin shared her raana. A fine mist started falling while they stood at the bank – too weightless to be rain, and too wet to be fog – and they mused together that by the time they got to Ustengrav, they'd probably look like raisins. He wiggled his wrinkled fingers at her in his cut-off gloves, and damp as she was, she had to laugh.
She felt like she could talk to him about almost anything. It was because of that fact that she spoke up when most of the day had passed, and she realized where they'd have to camp.
'I know a good place to sleep – following the river north. I, uh...stayed there with Avulstein, the first night we left. It's a crabber's place—'
'Oh, you mean old Barlin?' Farkas rarely ever interrupted anyone, but now he looked at her happily surprised.
'In the shack where the rivers meet? Yeah, I know the guy!'
She guessed she shouldn't have been surprised – but she was anyway.
'You do?'
'Sure!' He smiled broadly, and waved a huge hand.
'I've camped there loads of times. It's dead handy, for the route.'
And so it was settled; as the sky started shifting from lead to charcoal, the two riders sauntered into the clearing with the delta and its waterfall. Farkas greeted Barlin by name, and the men chatted amiably as Farkas pressed some coins into his hand. The weathered old crabber didn't seem to recognize her, and Merrin counted that as a blessing.
They picked a spot a bit farther from the shack than she and Avulstein had been, with grass underfoot, instead of dirt that would be mud tonight. She noticed only two other campers, both with the same idea, and she'd resigned herself to a cold and soggy night when Farkas announced that Barlin usually kept firewood for sale beneath a tarp.
They were in some luck, after all. She'd set up the horses with bags of feed and thrown their blankets over their backs for the night when he came lumbering back into view with a bundle of firewood tucked under each arm. He smiled at her sigh of relief, and after some doing they had a roaring fire with wood enough to last the night.
'I am awfully glad you know Barlin.'
'I aim to please.'
They pitched their tents as close as was safe, taking care not to dampen the insides, using the firelight to see. Then Farkas used a rock to drive some long sticks into the earth, close enough to the flames that they could hang their outerwear to dry. She was grateful to peel her damp slicker off, then her breastplate, and then her tunic, hanging them up and praying for no more rain. He did the same, and they hauled what they'd need for the night into their tents wearing undershirts. It was a wild relief to feel cool night air on her skin – and then all too quickly the sweat and damp of the day evaporated in the chill, and she was glad again for the fire.
As soon as they had their gear stashed and bedrolls ready, they sat in the openings of their warm, dry tents and settled in for a late supper. Merrin unwrapped a loaf of bread, some cheese and jerky, and they divvied it up in comfortable silence.
It was the longest they'd gone all day without talking. She stared at his face, half framed in shadow, and then out into the night beyond, just listening to the noise around them. Bugs. Horses. Running water. Crackling fire.
When he spoke up suddenly, it didn't startle her. The sound of his voice belonged here.
'So this is where you had that nightmare?'
'Yeah.' She nodded softly. The image of Alduin in a burning Whiterun came back fast, and so did the things he'd said. Farkas was staring at her, so he caught her wincing.
'Don't mean to bring up bad memories. I just...I dunno, wonder if it meant something.'
She looked over at him, frowning. 'You mean like a vision?'
'Maybe. I've got no clue about that stuff. The timing was just...weird.'
She privately agreed, and the idea combined with the memory had her hugging her arms to keep from shivering in the night. Weakly, she smiled at him, and tried to crack a joke.
'Maybe I should ask Olava the Feeble, when we get home.'
He snorted, and shook his head.
'I don't like her much. Last time we crossed paths, she wanted to drill a hole in my head. Creepy.'
Merrin scoffed. 'Bull shit.'
'No, for real! What did she call it? Something panneling, started with a t. Said she had a hand augur for it in her house. It was wild!'
'You mean trepanning?' He pointed at her, a silent 'that's the one', and she shuddered, shaking her head.
'Okay, okay, never mind. That's fucked up. No more talking about Olava. It's gonna be hard enough to sleep tonight, and I'm beat.' Glowing red eyes aflame with hatred flashed through her head, and she sighed.
He made a sympathetic face. 'It feels closer, here?'
She knew he meant the dream, and nodded. It was true. If she tried just a little, she could remember the feeling of cold fear slithering up her legs like snakes. The way she'd clawed free from her bedroll.
Farkas nodded back. 'I figured. But try not to worry. I'm right here with you.'
He grabbed the long stick they'd use to poke the fire, and brandished it like a sword.
'Any dragons try to mess with you, dream or real, and they'll have me to answer to before you kick their ass.'
His voice was warm and reassuring, and Merrin felt herself smile. The words touched her.
'Thanks, Farkas,' she murmured. 'I'm glad you're here.'
He blushed at that, but in the firelight Merrin missed it. He fixed her with a soft expression.
'So am I.'
For a long beat, the crackling fire was the loudest sound between them. Then he stirred it with the long stick, making it hiss and pop, and ducked his shaggy head.
'Well. You said you're tired, yeah? You should get some rest.'
She raised a brow. 'What about you? I don't think we need to sleep in shifts here. I didn't with Avulstein.'
Farkas put the stick back down, and waved her off.
'It's not that. I'm just not quite ready to turn in, yet.'
'You sure?'
'Yeah, go ahead.'
After getting up and wandering outside the fire's light to relieve herself, Merrin came back to crawl inside her tent, kicking off her boots. The flaps had a single toggle, and before she clasped it she poked her head back outside to look at him. The ghost of a smile still played at his mouth while he stared at the flames, and he'd wrapped an old blanket around his broad shoulders. He was a comforting sight, and warmth bloomed in her chest as she looked at him.
He must have felt her staring, because he turned his head to meet her, and the smile rekindled. He gave her a salute in the flickering light, and she sent him one back.
'Well...goodnight, Farkas.'
'Sleep tight, Mer.'
Tight wasn't exactly the word, for how she slept. But no nightmares jolted her awake, and the drizzling mist stopped sometime in the night. When she opened her tent flap on another cloudy morning, she was greeted by the sight of mostly-dry gear, and Farkas cooking them breakfast.
She definitely wasn't complaining.
He wished her a good morning while she sat by the fire, and even handed her a pewter mug of raana, dark and steaming.
'No sugar,' he said apologetically.
'You're a god, Farkas.' It was her only reply before she took a scalding sip, and he chuckled when she winced.
They ate toasted bread and cheese with hot apple oats, and watched as two Redguard trappers broke down their camp and headed the way they'd come, the night before. Farkas made to get up and feed the horses, but she shooed him back down and went to do it herself.
'You fed me,' she laughed, at the look on his face. 'I owe you. Trust me.'
She insisted on washing their dishes in the river, too, and by the time she got back to pack them, Farkas was breaking their camp, humming cheerfully while he worked. She recognized Ragnar the Red, and chuckled to herself as she grabbed her bedroll.
Before too long they were packed and dressed, and ready to go. Barlin was already long since up, sitting on his porch and working a catch, but he paused in the middle of cracking a crab-shell to wave at Farkas as they rode away.
'He really likes you, huh?'
'What? We play cards sometimes!'
They headed east, around the tip of Skyborn range, and made for the salt marshes beyond it. It was a good bit chillier than yesterday – but at least it looked less like rain. With breakfast and raana and Farkas' company, she was in a much better mood, and hoped that the day would go smoothly.
But apparently, it wasn't to be. No sooner had they caught the first glimpse of Morthal nestled in the distance, than a thick fog had come rolling into the marsh – the kind Hjaalmarch was known for. Within minutes, visibility had dropped from miles to paces, and then it was barely even that. She'd been about to run out of familiar ground anyway, so Farkas took the lead, and she'd grabbed the map. But even if they could've seen their surroundings, it wouldn't have helped much.
And so it had devolved into a day of carefully navigating thick, stinking marsh – avoiding sulphurous pockets and sudden pits of sucking mud, hoping for no chaurus attacks. There wasn't really room for easy chatter; talking was reserved for 'watch your horse's leg' and 'oop, there's a drop here', and most time was spent listening for any threatening sound. At one point some sticks to their right had been cracked, deafening to their straining ears – and then a second later, a marsh deer had gone plunging through the shallow water right in front of them, scaring Merrin half to death.
Her mood had soured as they'd forged on. Their pace had inevitably slowed to a crawl, and as the meagre daylight faded around them, dimming their misty world, she'd been forced to accept that they wouldn't clear the marsh by nightfall.
She was pissed – not to mention tired, damp and aching, with frazzled nerves and a saddle bruise. But she didn't want to take it out on Farkas, so she'd fallen mostly silent.
Neither of them had spoken in a while, when Farkas broke the silence in a low voice.
'I think we'd better stop soon, Mer. We're losin' the light.'
Merrin sighed and nodded. 'You're right.'
They had no torch, and no lantern, and they scrambled in the dying light to find somewhere large and flat enough to camp. Marshes were a bitch to sleep in. The fog was finally thinning, after being soup-thick all day – but that was just salt in the wound, at this point. After some scouting they found a little bank that would do, with a rocky outcrop providing some cover and high enough to be out of the water. She fully expected to have to grope around and set up in the dark, but Farkas' sharp eyes caught sight of some wood they might use for a fire.
It was a little copse of dead trees, spearing up from the brackish water. They'd been bleached bone-white by age and sun, and a bunch of it was dry enough to light. Their boots were already soaked through from having to dismount several times to navigate; after a brief exchange they left the horses on the bank, and went sloshing up to the trees.
They were brittle, and snapping boughs from the trunks proved easy enough. When they each had an armful, they waded back, and arranged the wood into a cone. She was fed up with fiddling, and rather than even pull out her flint, Merrin peeled off a glove and just used her flame spell to light it. That was enough, despite the damp, and as orange light started to flicker between them, Farkas stared at her, impressed.
'Nice one. Thanks, Mer.'
'It's nothing. 'Work smart', and all that.'
They started setting up what they could, and Merrin pushed through her haze of worn-out anger to focus on the tasks. Their patch of ground was safe enough, so boots and socks were peeled off straightaway, and placed by the fire. Neither wanted to pitch a tent – but they wanted a chaurus tripping over them less, so up they went. They mostly worked in silence. But over the buzz of insects and croaking of frogs, she could swear she caught snatches of him humming again.
He wasn't angry, like her. Not right now, and not as a person. It was written all over the way he moved, the set of his shoulders. The look on his face. She wondered at it, even as she admired it. How was he so steady?
They sat on a couple of rocks to eat, and this close, she could hear that he was humming. Something simple and low, that reminded her of the Bannered Mare. He reached out to grab the bag she rifled through, to make it easier. And when she passed him a pear, he smiled at her.
Finally, she sat back with her own food, and sighed. He went quiet.
'I'm fed up with today,' she admitted.
He just nodded. 'I know.'
Merrin tched at herself. 'That obvious, huh?'
He nudged her with an elbow.
'Nah. I just know you, is all. Patience isn't your strong suit.' He grinned, and she couldn't help but smile back.
'The marsh just pisses me off.'
'It's better once you stop fighting it so hard. Marshes don't care who they piss off.'
'You're probably right,' she muttered.
'What else has you stressed?' He took a swig from his waterskin, a bite of his pear.
'Worried about getting through the tomb?'
'Not really. There hasn't been time.' It was the truth. Between yesterday being so much better, and today in the swamp being so demanding, there hadn't been room for much else. She hadn't been able to read her book of Dovahzul, or spend time wondering what Ustengrav would be like. Whether it would be dangerous. Whether they'd succeed.
He took a look at her expression, and nudged her again with a chuckle.
'Hey hey, none of that. I didn't ask so you could start worrying.'
'Too bad.' But she smiled at him, and bumped him with her shoulder.
'You think it'll be too bad? Or no?'
'I think we make a good team,' he answered simply. 'The rest will come together.'
He sounded so confident that it actually soothed her, and she nodded, feeling grateful.
'I guess we'll see soon enough.'
'Real soon. It's harder with no sun, but I reckon we beat enough track that we'll be there tomorrow.' He snorted a sudden laugh.
'Then it'll just be about finding a grey barrow, in grey fog.'
She chuckled. 'That much, I can handle. I hope.'
He got up to feed and settle the horses, and she fed another branch into the fire. The fog was thin enough now that the marsh was much clearer, and a few stars were peeking through the clouds. Being able to see their surroundings was a comfort, and for now, things were peaceful. Merrin let loose another sigh, and let herself slump against the rock.
When Farkas came back to the fire, he eyed her knowingly.
'You're tired. You should get some sleep.'
She looked at him dryly.
'Gee, boss. You gonna tell me to go to bed every night?'
He smiled. 'Every night you need someone to tell you.'
Fair enough. She was tired – too tired to be witty. Reaching out, she brushed his arm with her fingers, and looked up at him questioningly.
'What about you?'
'I'll take first watch. I'm fine.' He reached out a hand to help her up, and pulled her to her feet when she took it.
'Get some shut-eye, and I'll wake you up in awhile.'
'You sure?'
He shot her a smile, warm and mirthful.
'You gonna ask me if I'm sure every night?'
Touche. Her eyes narrowed, but she couldn't hold back a half-smile.
'Probably. Smartass.'
He chuckled, and shook his head.
'Go to bed.'
She crawled into her tent, but this time she left the flap open. Shucked off her tunic and placed it beside her, laid a dagger in easy reach. Unbraided her hair to help it dry, and raked her fingers through the waves. Finally, she crawled into the bedroll, and got as comfortable as she could. They'd picked a spot without too many loose stones, and she was glad for it.
As their camp was swallowed by the sounds of the night, she pillowed her face on her arm, and stared through the tent flap. Right away, she started drifting.
She should've been thinking of the job ahead. Of Ustengrav, and whatever might be in it, and the best way through to success. But she didn't.
She just watched Farkas.
He was sitting much the way he had the night before, with the same old blanket wrapped around him, and a waterskin in one hand. She watched as he stirred the fire, rearranging a few boughs with a calloused hand. The firelight flickered across his face, and she saw an abnormally serious expression on it, making him look thoughtful. Brooding. Idly, she wished she knew what he was thinking. He stretched his back, and the blanket slipped, and she saw a slice of bare, muscled shoulder underneath.
It was in that quiet, dreamy haze that a new thought floated to the surface.
Why don't I just take you to bed?
It took a second to sink in; then Merrin flinched into wakefulness, startled.
The thought went through her head again, racing this time. Staunchly, she tried to push against it – then levelled with herself, and gave up.
She was tired of lying to herself. He'd caught her eye from that very first morning – when she found him by the fire, and they introduced themselves. When he traced her freckles. There'd been a spark, and it had grown ever since...with touches, and glances, and things said in the dark.
She couldn't ignore it, anymore. Couldn't deny the attraction she'd tried to play down. His face had been on the back of her eyelids for weeks...and even now, as she laid rigid in her bedroll, it was hard to tear her eyes away from the skin that blanket exposed.
She wanted him.
So why not take him?
One discomfort after another, Merrin forced herself to search for an answer. She stared at his face as she thought it over, with him oblivious to her scrutiny.
Through her years on the road, she'd met several men who struck her fancy – plenty of them friends. And she'd never had a problem, wanting them. She'd rarely even hesitated – let alone tried so hard to push it down that she nearly convinced herself. So why not Farkas?
As the answer started wending its way into her conscious, her discomfort mixed with dismay.
...He was already too important to her.
As she looked at the truth, it astounded her. She had known Farkas for a month – one month. And already, they were such great friends that the idea of losing him unnerved her. In one month, she'd grown closer to him than any of the men she was comparing him to. Real friendship, the type that was rare to find.
She squirmed in her bedroll as she realized that she didn't want to mess that up. It didn't matter that they'd done some flirting, and maybe he'd be interested. It didn't matter that she wanted him, and now she'd admitted it to herself, it would burn. She knew first-hand how sex could ruin the things that made you want the sex in the first place.
And it wasn't worth risking that, with Farkas. Imagining their friendship souring made her feel cold inside. Their bond was worth more than sex.
It was too much revelation, at the end of a hard day. To have to admit that she wanted him, only to realize she loathed the thought of losing him so much that it altered her behavior...
It disturbed her. Gnawing on her lower lip, Merrin tore her troubled eyes from his face. She was awash now in strange, uneasy feelings, and as she rolled onto her other side, she gripped the blanket and prayed uselessly for sleep.
She'd caught very little of it, when Farkas woke her up by grabbing her foot and shaking it. The moons were low in the western sky, and as she clambered from her tent he whispered that it'd been quiet so far. She thanked him and told him to get some rest, and as he disappeared into his tent, she stoked the fire back up. She hadn't been sitting five minutes on the rock, before her ears caught the sound of his gentle snoring.
How did he do that? She scrubbed her tired eyes with her fingers, and sighed.
It was quiet, out here. And aside from counting torchbugs and watching a newt slide into the water, there was nothing much to do. Except for think.
For a while, she was still disturbed by what she'd uncovered. She definitely hadn't been looking for this. And it had the potential to be...very messy. But as she stared into the flames and mulled it over, she started to relax.
What was the harm in some attraction between friends – if it was even between them, and not one-sided? Just because it was there didn't mean anything had to change. So long as she kept it to herself, no one would be the wiser. And she could do that – keep the heat under wraps. She was a woman, not a beast.
Desire was normal – healthy, even. And he was...well, pretty striking. It was only natural for her to notice, and her body to respond. But what she chose to do about it was up to her.
And she had chosen. By the time she saw a tinge of light in the east, Merrin considered the matter settled, and packed it away.
'Hold on, I think this is it!'
'You sure? Last time you said that, it was a pit of mudcrabs.'
'Oh, har, har.'
She'd woken him at dawn to break camp, and shortly afterward, they'd been moving again. The sun had finally reappeared, and by the time it had properly risen, it had burned up the fog into nothing.
Being able to see made them faster, and they'd cleared the marsh by mid-morn. Now they were striding over sparse tundra, with Merrin switching often between scouring the Greybeard's map, and the land ahead.
As they got a little closer, she exclaimed triumphantly and pointed.
'See? It's a barrow! This has to be it.'
They were riding up on a weathered grey barrow, in the traditional sunken style. She settled back in the saddle, and shot him a tired smile.
'Finally.'
Farkas shook his head, and smiled back. 'I'll never doubt you again, o' wise one.'
'That's more like it.'
She was still chuckling, high on relief when the sudden stench hit her; it turned into cursing as she pulled up on the reins and covered her nose with a sleeve.
There was only one thing that smelled like this – it was the smell of something dead. She whipped her head around to look at Farkas, and he stared back, suddenly sober. They both were thinking the same thing: it was coming from the barrow.
'Shit.'
'C'mon. Let's take a look.'
They left the horses a good ways away, and crept to the barrow on foot. It was silent, save for the chirring of insects – a good sign. But the smell got stronger with every step, until they were peering over the lip and down to the landing below.
Farkas whistled at the sight that met them, and Merrin made a sound of disgust.
A blonde man in leathers was sprawled on the stone, not far from the doors to the tomb – or what was left of him, anyway. The corpse was rotting away, covered in flies, and a steel sword coated in something black laid next to a bony hand. Not three steps away from the sword was a chaurus – the first they'd seen on the entire trip – equally dead and rotten. Gingerly they started down the curving stone steps, and Farkas shook his head.
'Damn. Poor bastard had a real bad day.'
'Probably an adventurer,' Merrin said grimly. 'Or a bandit. They like the barrows. Either way, I guess we know what happened.'
Farkas made a sound of agreement, and went striding past her to a mouldering barrel by the doors. She didn't see what he was going for, until he turned around with a soggy-looking rucksack.
'Maybe we can find out.'
She raised a brow and pursed her lips, and he shrugged.
'At the very least, he might'a had something good. Let's see.'
'Really?'
'What? Waste not, want not. It's not like he's gonna use it, Mer.' He seemed amused by her expression, and she scowled.
'You wanna check his pockets, too?' she snarked. But he just laughed, and shot her a wicked grin.
'Don't test me.'
There was nothing informative or valuable inside – but there were three fresh torches, wrapped in oil cloth. It was something she hadn't thought to bring, and as he grinned and waved them in her direction, she gave a begrudging sigh.
'Alright, alright, you win. Thank you.'
'Just don't light em' here – pretty sure the gas comin' off our friends would blow us up.'
He walked over to hand her the torches – then caught sight of something over her head, and peered behind her with a frown.
'Hey. What's that?'
She turned around to look. Just above the iron doors to the tomb, there was a sizeable plaque – unusual, for a barrow. And on it was inscribed...
'It's Dovahzul,' she murmured, frowning. 'The dragon language.'
'Huh. I've never seen a barrow with a sign at the door.'
'Me neither.'
'Do you think it's important?'
'I dunno. Probably, since it's here.'
'Can you read what it says?'
Merrin shook her head, still frowning. 'No, I'm still just learning. But...hang on. Can you hold this?'
He nodded, and she unshouldered her rucksack and handed it to him. Undid the main flap and plunged a hand in, digging around and muttering to herself until she found what she wanted. She pulled the linen-wrapped book out with a triumphant 'aha!' and then started unwrapping it.
'This is the book the Greybeards lent me,' she said hurriedly, flipping carefully through the pages.
'It's a dictionary, and more. Snatches of the message look familiar, but with this I can probably get a full translation.'
'Really?' Farkas whistled. 'Wow. You impress me, Mer.'
The words sent a hot jolt into her stomach, but she waved them away.
'Hold on – gimme a minute.'
He watched her patiently as they stood in the stench. Merrin looked frequently back and forth between the book and the plaque, brows furrowed low in concentration. She'd mumble under her breath as she read, snatches of words he didn't understand. Tracing the words with a fingertip, and every so often she'd flip some pages as quick as the book would allow, shaking her head until she found what she wanted and then nodding to herself.
After several long minutes, she squinted up at the plaque one more time, and sighed, snapping the book shut.
'I can't be certain, but it sounds like a warning, written like a poem.'
'What does it say?' He looked at her wide-eyed and intrigued, and she shook her head.
'Dovahzul doesn't always translate the prettiest, into Common. But from what I can gather, it's something like... 'Sky above, Voice within. Reader beware, before you begin. Here lies...Windercaller, prince of peace. Speak the Way, and...have his lease. But if you cannot call the Thu'um, this crypt will spell your certain doom.'
For a few seconds, they stood in silence. Then Farkas turned to her, looking dismayed.
'Sounded plenty pretty enough to me. And not very friendly.'
The words worried Merrin just as much, and she nodded with a grimace.
'Yeah...not so much.'
'What does this mean for us?'
'I'm not sure.' She bit her bottom lip, brows crumpled in thought.
'...It sounds like you might not be able to come in with me, after all.'
'What?' Farkas blanched. 'Why not?'
'You heard it! It sounds like anyone who can't Shout will be in danger if they go inside.'
'I can handle danger,' he insisted.
'But what if you get stuck?' she countered, looking worried. 'What if there are traps? Or a barrier?'
'Well – I dunno,' he spluttered, gesturing helplessly.
'But I can't just leave you alone! We don't know what's in there!'
'That's my point.' She reached up and grabbed him by the upper arms, and stared at him hard.
'We don't know what's in there. But I can Shout, and you can't. The Greybeards sent me here – they clearly thought I could handle it. But if anything happened to you in there because of me, I'd never forgive myself.'
His blue eyes widened a little, and she shook him gently, entreating.
'Please, Farkas. I know we're a team. I'm glad you came. But please. Sometimes plans change. Let me go in alone, and stay here where it's safe.'
'But...Mer,' he protested weakly. 'How will I know if you're in trouble? The thought of just leaving you to it..' he shook his head.
'Give me a chance,' she said firmly. 'If I'm not back by...say noon, then come in and get me. But let me try.' Her brows rose as she looked at him, and she tilted her head.
'Four years of working alone, remember? I can handle myself.'
He stared down at her, looking unhappy. Several seconds passed in silence, and then he finally sighed.
'I don't like this, Mer.'
She shook her head. 'I don't love it, either. But it seems like our best bet.'
His shoulders slumped, and he nodded in defeat.
'Fine. We'll do it your way.'
She felt a rush of relief at the words, and gave his arms a quick squeeze before letting him go to re-shoulder her pack.
'I promise I'll be careful. You just sit tight and wait for me, and I'll be back.'
'I'll be waiting.' Then suddenly he reached out and caught her hand in his, held it fast.
'You be safe. Alright?'
The look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat, and her mouth went dry as she nodded. She nearly stammered, when she answered.
'Alright.'
He nodded seriously as he let her go, and took a single step back. Merrin took an unsteady breath as she pulled a torch from her pack, and glanced one more time at the plaque above.
'Well then...here goes nothing.'
She grabbed one of the carved iron handles and yanked it, and the heavy door groaned as it came swinging open, revealing the blackness within.
She's been in there too long.
After she'd disappeared, he'd gone to sit with his back to the stone wall, as far from the rotting bodies burning his nose as he could get without climbing the stairs. Then he'd waited.
And waited. And waited.
The sun had mounted the sky while worry did the same in his gut. Now both were at their peak. His fingernails were a mess from his nervous picking. And still there was no sign of her.
'Screw it.' Enough was enough; he was going in. Farkas hauled himself to his feet, and started reaching for his sword – then jumped, as the doors to the tomb came flying open with a violent smash.
'Son of a bitch! Motherfucker!'
Merrin came stalking through the threshold and across the landing covered in dirt and cobwebs, and as he stared in shock, she pitched her still-flaming torch to the ground so hard that it snuffed out the fire. She was spitting mad – a snarl was etched on her face as she hurried towards him, and her amber eyes were flashing murder.
'Mer?' He was torn between relief and alarm, and reached out a cautious hand.
'What's the matter? Why are you—'
'It's gone,' she snarled. 'The horn is gone! Somebody stole it!'
'W..what?' His face fell in dismay and confusion, and he stared as she stood there breathing like a bull.
'What do you mean, stole it?'
'I mean I made my way through the whole damn tomb, only to find a back door I didn't know existed broken into, and the horn gone!'
She growled the words in a rush, and then jerked up an arm with something crumpled in her balled-up fist. A piece of paper.
'Whoever took it left me this.'
'What is it?' he asked, dumbfounded.
'See for yourself.' She shoved the crumpled paper into his hand, and then gusted a harsh sigh, turning and raking both hands through her hair as she cursed.
He looked wide-eyed down at the paper, uncrumpled it, and saw it was a letter. He started to read.
Dragonborn,
I need to speak with you. Urgently.
Rent the attic room in the Sleeping Giant Inn, in Riverwood. I'll meet you there, and we can talk.
– A friend
His brow had furrowed as he read, and now he frowned, irritated. She still had her back to him, so he lifted the letter and gave it one long, quiet sniff. But it told him nothing – the scent was unfamiliar. He folded the piece of paper in half, still frowning, and walked toward her.
'Did you check this back door? Maybe they're not far ahead.'
'Of course I did.' He offered her the letter back, and she grabbed it, crumpling it again in her fist.
'As soon as I realized what'd happened, I ran out the door and looked around. But there was no trail. And no one around. The fucker got away.'
'Well, what do we do now? Are you alright?'
Their eyes met and held as they stood close together, and ever so slightly, she softened. She loosed another sigh and grimaced, shaking her head.
'I'm fine. Just pissed off. The fucking nerve! And how did anyone even know I would be here? Why steal the horn? None of it makes any sense. Gods damn it.'
He didn't like this one bit, and nodded. 'Someone wants you in Riverwood, bad.'
'Someone in Riverwood's getting their head ripped off,' she growled.
'Woah, hang on. You actually wanna go there?'
Her hands flew up to grab two fists of black hair, and she snarled.
'I have no choice! I have to get the horn back, for Arngeir! I can't just leave it stolen.'
'What if it's a trap, Mer? It could be dangerous!'
She turned her burning eyes onto him, and scowled.
'I know that. But there's nothing for it.'
A protective surge flashed through his chest, and he fixed her with a hard stare.
'If you wanna do this, then I'm backing you up. We go in together, or not at all.'
Her eyes flashed, and for a second he thought she'd tell him to fuck off for making demands. But then she nodded, and shot him a grim smile.
'I wouldn't have it any other way. Now let's move. Daylight's burning.'
They rode hard backtracking through the tundra, skirting as much of the swamp as possible.
Merrin insisted on chancing the pass above Labyrinthian; she knew it wasn't wise with yesterday's rainfall, but if they could make the pass, they'd shave a day off their time. Farkas hadn't really put up a fight, and they'd pushed the horses south toward the Skyborn range as soon as they could.
It got chilly as they started the climb, and then cold, and Merrin was grateful for her layers.
It was narrow enough along the pass that they rode single file, and a bit icy from the rain, but they managed. If they looked down to their left they could see the ancient ruins of Labyrinthian below, convoluted and covered in frost. The wind was whipping by their ears through the channel the pass made, and once they heard what sounded like a troll roaring nearby. But they couldn't be sure, and just pressed the horses harder.
They shot safely into the plains by mid-afternoon, and kept the pace up as much as they could, stopping for the bare minimum. The sun held fast in the blue sky above, and they made good headway in the long daylight. It wasn't until nightfall started creeping in that Merrin admitted they had to rest the horses, and called for them to stop.
They chose a decent-looking clearing with a trickling stream, surrounded on three sides by pine trees and with a shallow cave to make camp in. The scat they found was old enough that neither of them were worried, and they swept it out with a pine bough before they got to work.
Merrin was still angry, and caught herself muttering darkly while she unpacked Allie. She'd stewed pretty much the whole way from Ustengrav, and now was no different.
Who? Why? The questions chased each other in her head like feral dogs, and it galled her not to have any answers.
Farkas knew she was still upset, and was taking on more than his share of work. He set the horses up by the stream and fed them while she was still unpacking. By the time she'd found the oil-tarps in their gear, he was setting down armfuls of deadwood in the cave. It was a gesture that needed no words, and it warmed her. She caught his arm as he made to build the fire, and shook her head.
'I'll do it.'
He unwrapped their food while she set up the fire, and by the time flames were crackling, they were ready to eat. They set out their bedrolls on the oiled tarps, and broke a loaf of stale bread.
For a while they just ate in silence, with the loudest sound being the carrot she was eating. There was no humming tonight, and she realized she actually missed it. She felt awkward, unsure what to say. What did you say, after a day like this one?
Night had fully fallen outside the cave, but the horses were just close enough that Merrin could see it when Allie made another pass at Ronan's shoulder, and the gelding jumped away.
It made her smile, and Farkas must've seen it too, because he chuckled beside her.
'Too close again, Ronan.'
'Silly guy,' she murmured. Then she looked at Farkas, and sighed.
'I'm sorry, Farkas. I really appreciate all you've done, and I know I'm bad company today.'
His thick brow furrowed, and he waved the words away.
'None of that. There's no need. You have good reason.'
That was true. She accepted a strip of venison when he offered, and stared into the flames.
'I just can't believe it. All that work, just for the horn to be stolen.' A thought occurred to her, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
'We were right to have you hang back, by the way. The traps were ridiculous.'
'I still think I coulda made it,' he said, mock-offended, and she snorted.
'Can you run twenty paces in two seconds?'
'...Maybe not, then.'
'There's a reason the asshole came through the back door,' she muttered. 'Whoever they are, they're smart.' Then she scowled.
'I still can't figure how they knew about me. Where I was going, and when.'
'Maybe you should ask them.'
'Maybe. Before I bash their head in.' She sighed again, and Farkas stared at her knowingly.
'You should try to relax. Worrying does you no good.'
'I can't help it,' she groaned. 'There's too many questions! Who are they? How do they know me? What do they want? What if they don't have the horn, when we get there? What will I tell Arngeir then?'
'Eyes on the prey, Mer. Not the horizon.'
She looked from the fire to him at that, nose wrinkling in confusion.
'Huh?'
'Something me an' Vilkas have always told each other. It means to focus on your goal right now, and what you can actually do, instead of a future you can't control.'
'...That's pretty good advice,' she admitted.
He grinned. 'All my advice is good. 'Sides, I've had plenty of practice. Vilkas is an over-thinker.'
She snorted, then shot him a tiny smile, and nudged him with an elbow.
'Yeah, yeah. Speaking of your brother, I never thanked you for bringing about that truce. Wonders never cease.'
'He's been known to see reason, eventually.'
'I'm sure it helps to have a twin with such stellar advice.'
He laughed at that, low and warm, and then took a swig from his waterskin.
'Glad to do it.'
They finished up their meal, and packed the food away before Farkas took the bag to hoist into a tree. As he strode off in the darkness toward the copse of pines, she stared back into the flickering fire, hugging her knees to her chest.
It was good advice. Especially now, with things so uncertain.
Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.
Eyes on Riverwood.
She woke him at dawn, and they packed their things away by the light of the fire's final embers. Once they were set to go, they beat a fast pace southeast.
It wasn't long before they could see Whiterun in the distance, a growing speck on the horizon. They kept the horses moving, and by mid-morning, they made the stables.
They didn't linger long in the city – just long enough to buy the horses more feed, and send a message to Jorrvaskr that there'd been a delay that would cost them another day. Then they were back in the saddles, and racing down the road to Riverwood.
It took less than an hour on horseback, and while they rode, Merrin's stomach bunched tight with nerves at what might happen, and what she would say. By the time they spotted the wooden gate to the village, she was itchy and restless, and her anger had rekindled with a will.
They slowed down to a trot, and then a walk to enter the village. A few curious heads popped up to glance their way, and at the sight of them Farkas sidled Ronan up beside her. Allie made to bite, and Merrin checked her with the reins.
'So how are we gonna play this?' he asked, just loud enough for her to hear.
'Casual, at first,' she said firmly, still eyeing Allie. 'If they do have the horn, we don't wanna spook them. Let me take the lead, and you look tough. We'll see what we're dealing with.'
'Sounds good.'
They dismounted in front of the inn, and tied up the horses far enough apart that there'd be no drama while they were gone. A sign with a literal sleeping giant on it welcomed them inside, and as they creaked across the wooden porch, Merrin steeled her nerves.
The sight that met them beyond the door was pretty much the bog standard, for a village inn. A long central fire lit up the room, exposing wooden walls and beams, and the cluster of tables lining either side. One table was occupied by two grizzled old men who barely spared them a glance before going back to lunch; another had a blond little boy, feeding scraps of what looked like chicken to a shaggy grey dog at his feet. Behind the bar was another man – a surly looking Nord with braided brown hair, and a wash-rag in his hand. He leaned against the bar as they approached, and spit a stream of tobacco juice into a pot. Then he appraised them with bored blue eyes.
'Welcome t'the Sleeping Giant. What can I do ya for?'
'I'm looking to rent the attic room,' she replied, keeping her nose from wrinkling. Tobacco aside, the man needed a bath.
For a second he just stared at her; then his heavy brow crumpled in confusion.
'Wuh? Attic room?' He shook his head, looking annoyed.
'We don't got an attic, here. All our rooms are ground-level.'
This was an unexpected problem. She looked over to Farkas, who stared right back, looking nonplussed. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to the barkeep, and tried again.
'You must be mistaken. I was asked to meet a...friend in the attic room, specifically. Here. In this inn.'
'Dunno what to tell ya, lady,' the barkeep drawled. 'We got no such thing.'
Panic and anger churned in Merrin's gut, and she opened her mouth – to say what, she didn't know. But before she could say anything, a voice to their right cut her off.
'So it is you, then. Interesting.'
Both of them turned to see a short Breton woman, standing in the doorway of another room and staring shrewdly at Merrin. She was middle-aged, with plaited blonde hair and narrow blue eyes, and wore a simple blue dress and a satchel.
But it was the voice that struck Merrin. She knew that voice. As their eyes locked, a memory flashed through her head – of a hooded woman in Farengar's study, standing over a book about dragons.
Instantly her anger spiked, and she scowled at the older woman.
'You?'
The woman didn't so much as bat an eye; just took a step forward and calmly placed a bunch of herbs on an alchemy table by the door.
'You've got a decent memory, at least. Just as well. I say we get down to business.' Smoothly, she reached into the satchel, and as Merrin and Farkas watched, out came a curved black ram's horn etched with Nordic carvings. The horn of Jurgen Windcaller.
'You're looking for this, right?'
Merrin had to fight the urge to lunge forward and rip it from her hand – too many witnesses. Instead she glared at the older woman.
'That doesn't belong to you.'
The Breton scoffed. 'Or to you. But let's be civil, shall we? I've got something you want, and we need to talk. Follow me.'
'What, to the attic room?' Merrin spat acidly.
'Not quite.' The blonde slipped the horn back into her satchel, and looked past them to the man behind the bar.
'Orgnar, hold things down while I'm busy, will you?'
'Yeah, yeah. Like I always do.'
She retreated into the room she'd come from, and they made to follow. But she stopped just as suddenly, and blocked the door with her arm.
'Just you. Your friend stays at the bar.'
'Her friend goes where she goes, if you know what's good for you.'
This from Farkas, before Merrin could reply; the words were low and hard, and she'd never heard him sound so menacing. He stood huge and imposing at his full height behind her, and stared the woman down with steely eyes. She glared at him for several seconds, and then shook her head.
'How do I know I can trust you?' She asked swiftly.
'We could ask you the same,' Merrin hissed. The Breton's face soured then, and she tsked.
'Oh fine, fine! Hurry up, then. C'mon.'
She stalked into the room – a bedroom, from the looks of it – and then whirled around as they crossed the threshold behind her.
'Close the door.'
Merrin looked back to Farkas, and gingerly he did as the woman bid.
'Lock it.'
A wary glance between the two Companions, and then Farkas locked it.
'Good.' The Breton nodded, and then turned her back to them, approaching a massive armoire against the far wall. She slipped an old brass key from the pocket of her dress, and unlocked the heavy wooden doors. Then she reached inside, parting the clothes hanging – there was a clicking sound – and the back of the armoire went sliding away, revealing a secret stone passage. Their eyes widened, and she nodded her head towards the threshold, looking impatient.
'There. Now we can talk. Come on.'
She disappeared down a set of stairs, and Merrin cursed under her breath before following with Farkas right behind.
When they hit the bottom, she stopped so suddenly that he bumped into her. It was some kind of...safe room.
Sconces on the walls and a chandelier of goat horns had the space well lit. It was about the same size as the bedroom above it – and it was stocked. Large wooden chests were pushed up against the walls on either side of the doorway; above them were weapon racks mounted with swords, bows, and quivers of arrows. Another alchemy table sat in the far left corner, with an arcane enchanter beside it. Next to that against the far wall was a bookshelf, crammed with soul gems, reagents, and books.
In the far right corner stood a mannequin, dressed in the suit of leather armor she'd seen the woman wearing in Dragonsreach. And on a plaque above it there was a shining dai-katana, the kind they made in High Rock; wicked sharp, and deadly.
In the middle of it all was a huge wooden worktable, covered in maps, strewn with books left open, and a single chair tucked in facing the doorway.
The Breton had been remarkably quick in skirting around the table; now the solid wood stood as a barrier between them, and the dai-katana was in reach. Merrin stood taut as a bowstring, watching her, and felt Farkas doing much the same.
But she didn't reach for the sword – instead she crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at Merrin.
'So. The Greybeards think you're the Dragonborn. For our sakes, I hope they're right.'
Merrin bit back a growl, and shook her head.
'Not so fast. First, you give me the horn.'
'Fine. I'm not trying to keep it from you. Here.' The blonde reached again into her satchel, pulled out the horn and slid it across the table, forcing Merrin to catch it.
'I am not your enemy, Merrin.'
She glared at the Breton, amber eyes flashing, angry and a little caught off-guard.
'I'll be the judge of that. Now, who the hell are you?'
The older woman's expression hardened.
'I don't make a habit of dealing in names.'
'You know mine,' Merrin said forcefully. 'So I get to know yours. We can do it the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.'
For long moments, the other woman assessed her – blue eyes flinty and calculating. Finally, she nodded.
'Fine. I suppose that's not too damning. My name is Delphine. Delphine Renoit. A pleasure to meet you formally.'
'Is it?' Carefully she slid the horn into her belt, and then crossed her arms, staring at the Breton stonily.
'Tell me, Delphine, how did you find out I'm Dragonborn?'
'Allegedly Dragonborn, you mean?'
'There's no 'alleged' about it,' Farkas growled. 'She is Dragonborn.'
Delphine shot Farkas a look of disdain.
'You'll have to forgive me if I don't take everything the Greybeards say as gospel. Regardless...' she looked back to Merrin, and tipped her head.
'I stay well informed through our...mutual acquaintance.'
'Mutual...you mean Farengar?!'
Delphine nodded, and Merrin's hands balled into fists. She was going to hang that miserable fuck by his own robes, when she got back to Whiterun! She cursed under her breath, and shook her head at Delphine.
'Why steal the horn?'
'Stealing's a strong word,' Delphine replied tartly. 'I knew you'd be coming for the horn. I needed to speak you.And make sure you weren't a Thalmor I moved the horn – problem solved.'
Thalmor plant? 'How did you know I was coming for the horn?' Merrin snapped. 'Farengar again?'
Delphine scoffed. 'I didn't need him for that. The Greybeards have always sent the Dragonborn for the horn. I knew you'd be no different.'
'What about this Thalmor bullshit? What makes you think I have anything to do with them?'
'I assume everything has to do with the Thalmor. Can't be too careful. But now I know better. You're no agent.'
'How do you know that?' Merrin challenged. Delphine's eyes narrowed to slits.
'Because if you were Thalmor, you'd have tried to kill me the second you heard my name. I was ready for it.'
Temper finally got the better of her; Merrin slammed her hands onto the table with a snarl, and leaned in toward Delphine on the other side. The Breton took the tiniest step back, and it pricked her with feral satisfaction.
'What do you want from me? You wanted me here – here I am. Now talk!'
'...Hm. Maybe you really are a dragon,' she said quietly. 'I damn well hope so. If you are, you're our only chance.'
'For what?' Merrin barked.
'For dealing with the other dragons. The ones flying around and killing things.'
The words jolted Merrin, and she flinched. Hadn't Arngeir said much the same? That her destiny was tangled up with the dragons? Slowly, she shook her head.
'What...do you mean?'
'Hear me out,' Delphine said urgently. 'Please. I've been doing research since Helgen burned, and it's starting to come to a head. I've figured something out. The dragons aren't just coming back – they're coming back to life.'
'That's impossible.' Wasn't it?
'It's more than possible – it's happening. I know it,' Delphine insisted.
'There were no dragons to just come back! My predecessors hunted them to extinction, centuries ago.'
The words rang a bell, in Merrin's head – predecessors? She'd read about a group of people slaying the dragons, somewhere. But right now, she couldn't grab the memory. Scowling, she made an impatient sound.
'Right. If every single dragon was apparently killed, then tell me, Delphine, who the hell is bringing them back?'
The Breton woman put her palms on the table now, and leaned in toward Merrin, eyes as hard as gems.
'Alduin. The World-Eater.'
The name sent Merrin reeling, so much so that she took a step back. Alduin, the dragon who burned down Helgen? Alduin, from her nightmare?
Slowly, she took another step back.
'You're crazy.'
'I'm not crazy,' Delphine snapped. 'I am part of a group of people that's been searching a very long time, for someone like you. If you are Dragonborn, you're the only one on Nirn who can permanently kill a dragon. Alduin is moving fast – he's raising his old armies! We need someone to take down the dragons. I'm trying to help you.' The blonde woman leaned even closer across the table, eyes intense and burning.
'My group remembers the Dragonborn for what they are – the ultimate dragonslayer.'
'I've had enough.' Merrin barely recognized the grating sound of her own voice.
'I am the Dragonborn, no matter what you believe. As Dragonborn, I'll fulfill my duty, whatever that may be – and I don't need your help.'
'Don't be a fool,' Delphine shot back sharply.
'It's about to be all-out war, with the dragons! You can't afford to turn down my help.'
'I can, and I am,' Merrin snapped. 'You don't know me, and I don't know you. I don't trust you. Whatever your motives may be, you can go to Oblivion with your methods.' She drew up to her full height, and glared at the woman across the table.
'I agreed to talk – we've talked. Now I'm done. We're leaving.'
'Damn you for being so short-sighted,' Delphine shouted. 'You tell me to go to Oblivion – that's where we're all going, if you don't smarten up!'
'Come on, Farkas.' She grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him toward the door. 'We're done here.' Her head was throbbing with an angry headache, and she could feel her pulse in her throat. He nodded without a word, and the two of them turned to go.
'You think you're done,' Delphine said bitterly.
'But you'll be back, when you come to your senses, and I'll be waiting here. You need to.'
They all but jogged back up the stairs, listening for sounds of Delphine following – but there weren't any. One by one they passed through the armoire, strode across the bedroom, and Merrin twisted the lock before throwing open the door. Once they were through, she slammed it shut behind Farkas for good measure – then turned to meet the stare of the barkeep, clearly unimpressed.
'Hinges don't grow on trees, ya know,' he grumbled.
She didn't even bother to answer – just stalked through the inn, past the men staring from their table, and went banging through the front door.
Farkas followed a step behind her. But he didn't say a word until they'd untied the horses and were climbing back into their saddles.
'That didn't go well.'
She rubbed hard at her aching temple, and exhaled sharply through her nose.
'Tell me about it. Let's get out of here.'
'Where are we headed?'
'We have the horn, don't we? I need to get to Ivarstead.'
'Merrin, wait. Wait.' He leaned over in the saddle to grab her arm – nothing forceful, just firm.
'Hang on.'
'What am I waiting for, Farkas?' She asked tersely.
'Shouldn't we talk about this? That was...a lot. With Alduin, and a dragon war—'
'Shh! Not so loud!'
He started sheepishly and shook his head, continuing on a murmur.
'Are you sure about this? Turning down her help?'
Merrin grimaced. 'Yes, I'm sure. She's was talking nonsense, and she's basically been spying on me. I'm gonna kill Farengar.'
He frowned. 'That's true. All that talk about resurrection...it's bullshit, right?'
'It has to be.' But a stirring of doubt sent a prickle up her spine, and she shivered.
'But she's right about the dragons. I need to learn as much as I can, if I'm going to take them down. And for that, I have to get back to the Greybeards.'
He nodded, fully supportive, and let go of her arm.
'Alright, then. Let's go.'
'The pass isn't far from here, we can make good time...' emotions stirred in her chest, and she bit her lip, feeling troubled.
'Farkas?'
'Yeah?'
'Thanks for having my back.'
'Always, Mer. Count on it.'
They rode south from Riverwood and past the shell of Helgen, reaching Jsashe's Scorn as the sun started setting. Since she knew so well where they were going, they pushed on a little longer than they would've, and managed to make it to the mouldering shack that she and Ria had camped in. They had no firewood to work with, but Farkas wouldn't hear of them going without. Eventually he broke down a chest full of moth-eaten blankets, and they used that for kindling. It was dank and smoky, but at least it was light.
They'd barely spoken since leaving Riverwood, but when Merrin came back from putting the horses in what was left of the fenced-in garden, Farkas spoke up.
'Y'know, just once, I'd love to camp somewhere that doesn't reek.'
She knew what he was trying to do, and shot him a wan smile.
'Apparently, you're asking too much.'
'Maybe I'll get lucky, and my nose will die.'
She pinned him with a look, and he surrendered, hands raised.
'Alright, alright. Just trying to lighten the mood. You wanna talk about it?'
Yes. No...yes. Gusting a sigh, she flopped onto her bedroll where it sat next to his.
'It's just a lot. I should be looking at the positives, right? We have the horn, in one piece.'
'...But?' he gently prodded.
'The shit with Delphine threw me for a loop. I don't know what to think. And I know it's stupid, but I don't feel ready for news to spread, about me being Dragonborn. Fucking Farengar.'
'Even without him flapping to Delphine, that skeever was gonna get out of the bag, Mer.'
'I know,' she sighed. 'You're right. Like I said, it's stupid. It's just...who else is gonna try to use me? Lie to me, for their own gain?'
'Probably a lot of people.' He said it so simply, and they just stared at one another glumly, knowing it for the truth. Slowly, she shook her head.
'I really need to talk to the Greybeards, about all this.'
'I know you do. And we're on our way. But for tonight, do you still have some carrots?'
Caught off guard, she blinked. 'What?'
'Carrots? And jerky?'
'Yeah...why?'
He slapped his hands together, and rubbed them over the fire.
'Good, I'll grab the pot. We have enough water, and you need cheering up – I'm making us something hot tonight.'
...
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