A/N: Hello, everyone! I want to thank you all for being here, and especially my long-time readers. This chapter took quite a while for me to write, but the end product is something I'm satisfied with. Here's hoping you enjoy it!

Farkas seemed to perpetually take first watch, but when Merrin looked at their crumbling fire and decided to wake him pre-dawn, he was game. They were packed and moving in no time, and had pushed through the pass by the first hints of dawn. The path through the Firecrown was quick on horseback, and it was still early in the morning when they made it to Ivarstead.

Merrin was pushing herself. The need to speak to the Greybeards weighed on her, and so did her confrontation with Delphine. As far as she was concerned, the quicker they got up the mountain, the better.

Which is why she braced herself when she saw the silhouettes of Fastred and Klimmek, out tending their field. She knew her family wasn't going to like her starting the climb today.

And she was right. They spotted her and Farkas crossing the bridge, and came from the field into their yard to meet them. She introduced him to the married pair, and waited as patiently as she could while the niceties happened. But when Klimmek offered to go wake the children, she had to cut in and break the news.

It went about how she expected. 'You want to go NOW?' 'You would've had to start hours ago, to make it by nightfall! And besides, you just got here!'

But Merrin was adamant; she would be careful, she knew the path. It was important they go right away. They would be fine. After promising to stay and fill them in when she got back, they unhappily let her go.

And then she had to basically do the whole dance again, with Wilhelm. She had Farkas wait outside this time, just to make it quicker. And when she reassured Wilhelm she wasn't climbing alone, she insisted that he could meet her friend later, when they got back. He grumbled about the entire business, and wouldn't let her leave until she'd accepted some fresh bread and goat's cheese for the climb.

By the time she escaped the Vilemyr, lead Ronan and Allie round back to the paddock, and pointed Farkas toward the steps, she was a harried ball of nerves. Family. Sometimes, they loved you a bit too much!

It wasn't until they crossed the bridge and officially started climbing that Farkas chuckled and shook his head.

'Well, that was different. I feel like a dirty little secret.'

She snorted, ignoring the flutter she felt at the words.

'Trust me, if I'd introduced you properly we wouldn't have gotten away today. We're in a hurry.'

But she was pricked with guilt, and to make up for it, she talked some about her family while they climbed. About Fastred being the defending champion of the rock-skipping contest Ivarstead had each summer, on Lake Klimmek's famous cloudberry jam, and how he guarded the recipe like a sabercat. How the Vilemyr never pulled as many tips from the pilgrims as when Narfi played his drum, or how he got the horses' coats to shine. He walked alongside her and listened to it all with a smile that made her flush.

'You're really proud of them.' It was a statement, not a question, and Merrin nodded.

'I'm lucky to have them.'

The sun rose with them as they climbed the Steps, and then eventually started to fall again. She'd been waiting all the while for something to come jumping from the trees and attack them – but nothing did, and they made better time for it. The weather was better, too, and it was a while before she needed Avulstein's cloak.

That was a blessing, because they were still a ways from the top when night started falling, and the temperature with it. They had just enough light to see themselves through the most difficult part of the climb, and then darkness swallowed them as they hit the ravine where she and Ria fought a troll. She worried that Farkas might object to pressing on in the dark, but he didn't.

It was late at night, by the time they saw High Hrothgar – maybe even new morning. Farkas stopped in his tracks when he saw the monastery, and whistled in awe, breath clouding white around his head.

'Wow. That's just...wow.'

Merrin smiled wearily at the look on his face, and nudged his arm with her shoulder.

'It's even better on the warm inside. Come on.'

She wasn't sure how pleased the monks would be, getting woken up this late. As she slammed a heavy metal ring against the doors, she wasn't even sure if they would hear them. And there wasn't an answer, right away; no voice calling 'Bex' and telling them to enter. Just when she was starting to worry, one of the doors came creaking open, and she recognized Wulfgar on the other side. He was wearing a grey woollen night gown and cap, and thick socks on his feet. But his eyes lit up as he recognized her, and he stepped back wordlessly to let them inside. As soon as the door was shut behind them he motioned for them to wait, and retreated down a shadowy hallway. Then everything was silent.

Confused, Farkas leaned down to whisper in Merrin's ear.

'What was up with that guy? Did we do something wrong?'

Merrin looked at him with tired eyes, and shook her head, whispering back.

'No, no. He can't talk. None of them can, except Arngeir. Their Voices are too powerful, if they talked they would Shout. So most of them live in silence, and Arngeir speaks on their behalf. That was Wulfgar – he's probably gone to get him.'

He looked at her, stunned. 'Are you serious?'

She nodded. 'Absolutely.'

'Wow.'

'I know. It freaked me out, too.'

A minute later, two figures holding lit candles emerged from the shadowy hallway – Wulfgar and Arngeir, just as she'd suspected, both still in their nightclothes. His luminous eyes seemed to glow as they met hers, and he smiled as he bowed.

'You return, Dragonborn. We had hoped you might, soon.' Straightening, the monk turned those lively green eyes onto Farkas, and he nodded.

'You bring a new ally this time. Might we know his name?'

'My name is Farkas,' he rumbled beside her, and extended a hand to Arngeir.

'Jergenson. Well met, master monk.'

'Well met, indeed. You may call me Arngeir.' They shook hands, and then Arngeir turned to look again at Merrin.

'Tell us, Merrin, how fares your friend Ria? Is she well?'

Merrin couldn't help but smile as she nodded.

'Very well, master Arngeir. She'll be so pleased that you asked about her.' Would she ever.

'She made quite the impression on us. I am glad to hear she thrives – but so often does the morning glory.'

It was a fitting description, and an image of Ria laughing and smiling flashed through Merrin's head. Before she could respond, he continued.

'And what of yourself? You look troubled.'

Her smile faded, and she nodded slowly.

'I am. There was a...setback, on my trek for the horn.'

Beneath his cap, Arngeir's brow furrowed.

'Were you not successful in retrieving it?'

'No, no.' She shook her head, and pulled the horn from where she'd tucked it at the small of her back to present to him.

'I have it. But I didn't get it from Windcaller's tomb. It was taken, and I need to tell you the story.'

Both Greybeards frowned as they stared first at her, and then the horn. But as Arngeir reached for it his expression calmed, and when she handed it over, he nodded.

'This is troubling news. And we will speak of it. But not tonight.'

Not tonight? Merrin's frazzled brain could barely make sense of the words, they caught her so off-guard. But when she started to protest, he held up his free hand.

'I am not dismissing you, Dragonborn. Please do not mistake my deferral for disinterest. I have many interests, your well-being high among them. The horn is safe, whatever transpired, and you are clearly weary.'

'Master Arngeir,' she protested, 'I'm fine to talk. I appreciate your concern, but this is—'

'Not going to change, by morning,' he interjected, calm but firm.

'You have achieved a great deal, and we will hear you. But there is no harm in taking some rest beforehand. I beseech you to listen to the needs of your body. It is in tandem with your soul.'

'You should listen to him, Mer.' This from Farkas, soft and sudden.

'You haven't slept right in days. A few hours won't hurt.'

Merrin looked at him, exasperated, and Arngeir smiled knowingly.

'If not to us, then listen to your companion. He seems to recognize the boon of pragmatism.'

Farkas' brow crumpled in confusion, at that – he clearly didn't recognize the word. But he nodded anyway.

'...Yeah.'

Merrin scowled; she was being ganged up on. The part of her that had pushed its way here in two days bristled at the thought of coming all this way, just to sleep. It was important news, that she'd brought them!

But Arngeir seemed adamant...and she was pretty much exhausted. For several long moments she stood there, jaw set. And then relented with a sigh.

'Fine...fine.' She crossed an arm over her chest, and pinched her brow with the opposite hand.

'It can wait until morning. But it shouldn't wait longer than that.'

'Then it won't,' Arngeir answered. 'Rest, and give us a full account when your mind is fresh. We'll determine our course from there. Wulfgar?'

Wulfgar nodded, and the candles were passed from the Greybeards to the Companions. The silent monk beckoned for them to follow him down the opposite hallway, and Arngeir gave them another bow.

'Sleep well, the both of you.'

'Thanks. You too,' Farkas nodded. She'd dropped her pack when they got inside, and now he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. She was too tired to protest, and just shot him a grateful look. Then they followed Wulfgar toward their rooms, as pristine as the last time she'd been here.

Wulfgar must've had magic, because a quiet wave of the hand at each hearth was all he needed to start a crackling fire. Then he bowed a silent goodnight, and padded away into the shadows. Merrin and Farkas were left by their doors, side by side, holding their pewter candlesticks. As soon as Wulfgar was out of sight Merrin turned to Farkas, looking stern.

'I could've stayed up to talk, you know. I don't appreciate being dog-piled by – by...'

But to her appalling chagrin, the words were swallowed before she could even finish by a massive, cracking yawn. She glowered at the look on his face when she recovered, but the damage was done; he just snorted, amused.

'Yeah, I bet. I'm gonna let you get some sleep now, Mer. Can you just tell me one thing though, before we head in?'

She pursed her lips on a sigh, but nodded anyway. She was pretty much powerless against that smile.

'What?'

'...What does pragmatism mean?'

It was the feeling of her shoulder being shaken that woke her, come morning. Groggy, Merrin squeezed the squashed-up pillow closer, and slid a hand from beneath the furs to brush her messy hair from her face. It took several tries, wild as it was, and she sighed as her half-asleep brain considered giving up.

'C'mon, Merrin. Wake up! Rise and shine.'

Farkas! She came shooting up at the sound of his voice, raking the hair back from her face. And there he was – sitting on the bed in breeches and an undershirt, haloed by the sunshine streaming through the narrow window behind him, grinning at the state of her. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and crossed his arms, muscular and bare.

'Good morning, sleepyhead.'

She could hear the laughter in his voice, and she flushed with a scowl, caught between heat and embarrassment. There was no way for him to know that she'd been dreaming of him. Giving in to the stretch that was wracking her frame, she yawned and shook her head.

'Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. What time is it?' she groused.

'A few hours past sunrise.'

She started. 'What? Why'd you let me sleep so late?!'

'Don't look at me!' He lifted both hands in the air, palms forward, and shook his head.

'One of the quiet guys just came an' woke me up a few minutes ago.'

'You look fine,' she grumbled, accusatory, and his grin widened.

'So do you. I just don't have enough hair for three people.'

She swatted him without any heat, and then sighed again.

'Alright, go away. I've gotta get myself cleaned up.'

'Want me to wait for you? I smell food.'

'Follow your nose. I know the way.'

He saluted her on the way out, and as soon as he closed the door behind him she felt herself blushing and cursed. For gods' sake. Traveling with someone was a whole lot easier, when you didn't care what they saw you looking like.

The words 'so do you' repeated in her head, and the blush deepened. Her eyes snapped shut, and she scrubbed with both hands at her face. Get it together, Merrin. It's settled.

Giving herself a shake, she picked up the man-handled pillow and whacked it against the bed, fixing its shape. Then she shook her head and got out of bed.

She emerged ten minutes later groomed and fully dressed – and feeling a lot more collected – and made her way down the hall. It wasn't long before she smelled food, and when she got to the kitchen, everyone was there. Farkas had saved her a seat, and she didn't flush at all while she took it. Totally collected.

She was offered toasted bread, and oatmeal with dried lavender in it, and as she accepted a bowl Arngeir looked at her thoughtfully.

'You look better, Dragonborn. Rested.'

'You were probably right, to make me wait,' she admitted. At this, he cracked a smile.

'I didn't doubt so.'

He took a seat across from her and Farkas, and she started the story while they ate. The monks stared in unhappy silence as she recounted Ustengrav being broken into; such a thing was probably no less than sacrilege, to them. And they watched her very carefully, when she described being lured to Riverwood, and meeting Delphine. But when she got to the part about the Breton insisting that Alduin was resurrecting dragons, Arngeir held a hand up to stop her.

'Hold a minute, Merrin. This Delphine – did she ever say which group she was a part of?'

'Not directly.' She frowned. 'I swear something she said rang a bell, but I haven't been able to recall.'

He nodded.

'I am not surprised. I could make a guess at what she's party to, with the information you've shared. But there is little point in doing so.'

'Do you not think she's a threat?' Merrin pushed. 'If she would steal the horn, can we be sure she won't go further? I walked out on her. The conversation...didn't end well.'

'One can be sure of very little,' the Greybeard mused. 'But I am sure that further examination can wait. I thank you for bringing this to our attention, Dragonborn. But today is a day of great occasion, and I would ask for us to focus on that. You and I may speak further on the matter before you take your leave, if you'd like.'

Merrin was surprised at that, and wanted to protest – but not for long. From all she was learning, the Way of the Voice was about watching and waiting, until you had to act. Warily, she nodded. He'd offered to speak with her later, and she wouldn't be leaving High Hrothgar before doing so.

'...If you say so, Master. But what's the great occasion?' Her brow furrowed.

All four monks around her smiled, and the corners of Arngeir's eyes crinkled as he looked at her.

'You have passed our final test. It is time for your Naming.'

All present in the monastery filed out to the courtyard and into the snow, when the meal had finished. It was a sunny day without a cloud in the sky – rare, for the mountaintop – and the blanket of snow glittered like a beach made of diamonds.

She had no idea what to expect, and more than once she exchanged loaded glances with Farkas as they walked.

Arngeir led the group to a stone pavilion with a brazier in its centre. As they all watched, he Shouted at that brazier – 'YOL!' – and the kindling inside went up in a flame that came straight from his mouth. Farkas whistled at the sight, and Merrin nearly gasped. Then he turned in his long grey robes to face her, and clasped his hands.

'Dragonborn, it is my honor on this day to present you with a gift. As reward for your cunning and skill in Ustengrav, I share with you the final word of Unrelenting Force, and my understanding of it.' Kneeling to the ground before her, he placed one weathered hand to the stones, and whispered.

'Dah.'

Push.

There was a cracking sound, from the platform beneath them. When Arngeir pulled his hand away, she could barely believe her eyes. Beside her, Farkas' mouth had fallen open. Somehow, a word of Dovahzul had been carved into the rock, beneath the palm of his hand. She had never seen anything like it!

She was still staring wide-eyed when he straightened, and beckoned her forward.

'Come, Dragonborn. Take my hands, and through them, understand.'

She'd thought she would be more accustomed to the feeling, having felt it several times now. But as she clasped hands with Arngeir and the channel of Spirit linked between them, she was swept away. Merrin gasped as this energy like no other went coursing through her, and knowledge so innate it was like she'd always had it settled in her soul. Eventually they broke apart, and Arngeir took a step back, his eyes all but glowing.

'In its full form, this Word is much more powerful. Look to the sky and let us hear you, so you may truly know Force.'

Energy was still pulsing through her, grand and commanding; it felt right to do as he asked. It was easy to channel that energy inward, upward, to gather it with her will. Her hands clenched into fists as she planted her feet, threw her head back. And as she inhaled to Shout, Merrin felt something tremendous being released.

'FUS RO DAH!'

Loud as a clap of thunder, a wall of physical force the width of a barn came booming from her chest. It rippled in waves they could actually see as it went barrelling up into the sky, and all around them the mountains echoed with the ringing sound of her Voice. To her absolute astonishment, Merrin watched as a shelf of snow on the nearest one came tumbling down a steep embankment – an avalanche. She'd firmly kept her feet, and as the answering rumble of the avalanche settled in an empty valley below, she looked around, heady with triumph.

All around her, the monks were smiling – especially Arngeir. But it was Farkas' reaction she cared about most. His eyes were wide as he stared at her, and as blue as the sky above, and his face was full of awe. As silence finally fell around them, a smile started to bloom there. Then Arngeir clapped his hands together, one time, and everyone gathered looked to him.

'Masterful. Truly, Dragonborn, you are a privilege for our Order to witness. With the gift bestowed, that leaves only the Naming.' The monk turned to Farkas then, and eyed him steadily.

'Kinsman Jergenson, I am afraid you must leave us for this. The Naming is not for ordinary men.'

Farkas frowned beside her, and she started to protest. But Master Borri held up a silent hand, looking grave, and Arngeir continued.

'Go into the monastery, and sit at our table. We will fetch you when it is safe for you to return. And you will need these.'

Smoothly, he reached into a pocket of his robes, and pulled back with probably the last thing she'd expected – balls of cotton. She and Farkas wore expressions of mirrored confusion, and Arngeir smiled sagely.

'For your ears.'

Oh. Comprehension dawned, and Farkas swiftly nodded as he stepped up and accepted them from Arngeir.

'Thank you, master. Arngeir. I, uh – guess I'll be waiting, then. Good luck.' He turned to Merrin, and shot her a look that was almost tender – then he passed her and the other monks, and walked quickly toward the monastery. When the heavy doors had opened and shut, the Greybeards turned to her.

'What is the Naming?' she asked – half nervous, half excited.

'It is our full recognition of you, as Dragonborn,' Arngeir answered softly. 'The very same words spoken centuries ago, when the Greybeards recognized the young Tiber Septim.'

Merrin stared at him, amber eyes widening.

'Then, you mean—?'

He nodded.

'You have completed your training, Dragonborn. We would Speak to you, and call you by your rightful name. Stand among us, and prepare yourself.' At the look on her face, he smiled – nearly chuckled.

'Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready.'

She hardly felt ready. After being told how deadly the Voices of the monks could be, what he asked for wasn't appealing. But in the moment of answering silence, Merrin steeled herself.

She hadn't come this far to back down now. Taking a calming breath, she met Arngeir's stare head on and nodded.

'I am ready.'

'Then hear us.'

Moving all at once, the Greybeards shifted so that they surrounded her – a man for each of the four directions. Then, still as one, they raised their faces and hands to the sky. For a single beat, there was silence, and Merrin held her breath.

Then they started to chant.

'Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau!

Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin – naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth!

Meyz nu Ysmir – Dovahsebrom. Mindok hin faan, ahrk huzrah wah nii!'

Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy head to sit upon!

By our breath we give it now to you, Dragonborn – in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old!

We name you Ysmir now – the Dragon of the North. Know your name, and hearken to it!

The sound was shattering – deafening, all-consuming. It pushed at her so hard from every side that she felt weighted down, as if she were sinking underwater. But it was also invigorating. From head to toe, her skin tingled with an electric spark like nothing else but the Voice, and she felt the power of her own rise in response. The words, understood without effort, were so loud around her they were inside her.

Unaware she was grinning wildly, Merrin opened her arms and tipped her head to the sky as she welcomed the feeling – an immovable rock, in an astounding tide.

Ysmir, Dragon of the North. Watching her stand fast between them, Arngeir thought it perfectly fitting for her.

The chanting seemed like it would never end. And then when it finally did, and they finished on a resounding boom, a separate sound rose to join them. A mighty rumble, echoing from beyond their circle.

Another avalanche. The five of them turned to watch, as nature answered their call with its own. Even larger than the first, it rolled down the side of the opposite mountain with a vengeance. A wake of powdered snow was kicked so high into the sky that it veiled the sun, and their eyes were dazzled with flashing rainbows. Then the massive crushing slide of white came to settle in the same barren valley, and silence fell at last – more poignant than any words.

In the absence of any other sound, they could hear their own breathing – deep and a little labored, after such use. Merrin could feel the pure magic of the Words as it lingered; in her body, in the air. It was incomparable, and she shivered as it finally started to fade.

The Greybeards had lowered their arms at the last, as if to embrace her; now they all looked at her with obvious respect. Arngeir stepped from the north toward her, and her gaze locked with his as he reached out to grasp her by the shoulders.

'Dovahkiin. It is finished. You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and you stand unscathed. May the Gods bless and honor you, and may you thrive through our guidance.' He squeezed her shoulders with strong hands, and smiled.

'In Naming you, we swore our allegiance, and High Hrothgar shall be open to you, now and evermore.'

The three other monks all bowed their heads, and whispered, making the ground tremble.

'Ful fen kos.'

So it will be.

After they'd returned to the warmth of the monastery, Arngeir had announced that there would be a 'luxuriant' meal that night, to celebrate her Naming. The other monks seemed enthused at the prospect, and right away, they'd set to work.

This time, Merrin was allowed to help, after some insistence. Cuts of salted pork and bags of dried mushrooms were set to soak, and spices were fetched while vegetables were chopped. Borri made a big kettle of tea from a bag stamped with Hammerfell's seal, and cups of the aromatic, spicy drink were passed around while they worked.

Eventually, the prep-work was done, and the monks bowed to Merrin one by one as they slipped away for midday meditations. Arngeir was the last to go, with a smile and a wave. With dinner simmering over the hearth and nothing better to do, she and Farkas had meandered back to their rooms.

The silence in the building was remarkable, and as they closed the door to Merrin's room behind them, Farkas whistled.

'I've spent too many years in the city, an' running through the woods. I dunno if I'll ever get used to quiet like this.'

'Neither do I.' Even at noon, it was chilly in the room. Merrin turned to grab a new log and set it in the hearth, before lighting it with her flame spell; when she turned back around, Farkas had perched cross-legged on the bed. There was nowhere else comfortable to sit, so she joined him, sighing as she gave her back a stretch.

'So, how're your ears?'

She understood his question right away, and shot him a wry smile.

'Surprisingly intact. What about yours?'

'Let's just say I'm glad I listened to Arngeir, an' went inside.' He shook his shaggy head, looking earnest.

'I bet they heard that clear as day, down in the village. Maybe even in Whiterun.'

'Maybe.'

'What is it like? To use the Voice?'

A tiny smile tugged free at the memory, and she sighed as she hugged her knees to her chest.

'I wish I could show you how it feels, Farkas. It's like...pure magic. Impossible to really describe.' She shook her head, and then lifted it to meet his eyes.

'But so far, it's just gotten better, as I've gotten better. As natural as breathing.'

'That sounds real nice. You sound happy, when you talk about it.' He was staring at her intently, and she warmed beneath his gaze.

'So...what were they saying?'

'They were recognizing me officially, as Dragonborn. Sort of...acknowledging my strength, I guess. And they gave me the same title the Greybeards gave Talos, when he was still Tiber Septim. Ysmir, Dragon of the North.'

A smile had steadily bloomed across his wide mouth as she'd spoken – now he nudged her with the closest elbow, and chuckled, raising a brow.

'See? What'd I say, on the very first day, huh? Pretty bad-ass.'

She couldn't help but grin, and nudge him back.

'Yeah, yeah.' But despite herself, a coal of something close to pride was glowing in her chest.

'I'm happy for you, Mer. You deserve the clout.' He grabbed her knee in a giant calloused hand, and gave it a firm little shake that made her snort a laugh.

'An' I'm sure your family will be relieved. That it's settled at least, I mean.'

'Mmmm.' That snapped her from her satisfaction, and Merrin's expression fell as she shook her head.

'I'm not so sure about that. I think they were mostly hoping this was all some mistake.'

'They'll come around,' he rumbled, reassuring, and she shrugged.

'Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I should try to get back to Ivarstead as soon as we can.' She loosed a gusting sigh, and threw her legs back over the edge of the bed, moving to rearrange her pack.

'And I still need to talk to Arngeir. We'd better tell him we're making an early start tomorrow.'

Arngeir was advised of their plans, and dinner was served earlier than usual, to suit an early bed. It was a sort of spiced stew served with fresh bread over mashed potatoes, and there wasn't a person at the table who could turn down a second helping. A dry white wine was served along with it, and the monks seemed amused by Merrin's reaction to it. When she pushed her glass aside, Farkas shot her a glance that said 'your loss', and downed it. The laughter this received had the dishes rattling on the table.

When the meal was finished, they helped to clear everything away, repeating their thanks. Then the quiet monks all settled into chores, and Merrin walked up to Arngeir.

'Master. I was hoping you'd have time for a word, before we turned in.' She eyed him meaningfully, and squared her shoulders.

'About the woman, Delphine.'

Arngeir sighed, and peered at her keenly from under bushy brows. But then he nodded.

'I thought you seemed rather troubled, over this interloper. Very well, Merrin, let us speak.' His shrewd eyes turned to Farkas, and he held out an arm toward the table.

'Master Jergenson, would you like to enjoy some tea by the fire, while you wait?'

She cut in swiftly before Farkas could respond.

'Actually, I would prefer he sit in with us.' Arngeir raised a brow, and she forged ahead, determined.

'He's a trusted friend, and can hear anything you may tell me. I'd really rather he stay.'

A silence stretched for several beats. And then:

'...Very well. I trust your judgment in this. Both of you, please follow me.'

Farkas shot her a smile as they fell into step behind Arngeir, who led them from the kitchen into the main space, and then down a hallway she'd never walked before. The sconces flickered low here, and she didn't see the doorway Arngeir turned through until it was just a few paces ahead. When they followed, they found themselves in a large room with vaulted ceilings, dominated by a massive stone table set in the centre of the floor. It was shaped like a link in a chain, polished and smooth, and had enough chairs to sit two dozen, at least. In the space ringed by the table sat a large in-ground fire pit, edged in stone, currently cold and dead.

As they watched, Arngeir waved a flickering flame into existence in the coals, and then gestured for them to sit as it grew to light the took the two nearest chairs, also polished stone, and he moved to sit across from them.

She couldn't help but voice her curiosity, as he settled.

'What is this room, master?'

'Our council chambers.' Arngeir waved a wrinkled hand airily around them, gesturing to the grand and chilly space.

'It has been used for untold years as a place of neutrality, where Tamriel's leaders could meet for peace-talks. Though it hasn't seen use in quite some time, now.' He raised a brow, and shot Merrin a wry little smile.

'I trust it will meet your needs, as well.'

She couldn't tell if he was making fun, and she straightened her back with an uneasy nod.

'More than. I just can't leave in good conscience without asking some questions.'

The smile widened, and he clasped his hands on the table between them.

'Then by all means, ask.'

She took a breath, and then dove right in, spreading her hands out in front of her.

'Delphine wanted my help, defending Skyrim. She believes there's going to be a war, with these dragons. What if she's right?'

Arngeir stared at her carefully, and then leaned forward, tilting his head.

'She may be.'

She'd been expecting a denial, and felt her mouth drop open a bit as she sputtered.

'Then shouldn't I have agreed to help her?!'

'That works under the assumption that she could help you,' he answered evenly. 'An assertion for which we have no proof.'

She thought about mentioning Delphine's basement – the weapons and potions, the maps and diagrams. But Arngeir continued before she could start.

'You are a Dragonborn of legend, gifted with immense power. I will not deny that your duty very well may include subduing the dragons – they have never had any love for the races of Men, and now that they've returned, they'll likely want to stake their claim.'

She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he silenced her with a raised finger.

'But this woman has nothing to do with that. Far more likely that she acts as a friend to you now, in hopes of gaining your trust so that she may use your power for some gain of her own, down the road. You would hardly be the first of your kind to be manipulated.'

That gave her pause, and Merrin frowned as his words sank in, feeling irritated and unsettled.

'I'm not so easily led, master Arngeir.'

'Perhaps not. But deception is only one of the hurdles you'll face, on your path. I seek only to warn you, and set you at ease if I can.'

She felt her lips purse as she met his gaze.

'So you think I was right to dismiss her, and no questions asked?'

'For now, yes. As far as I'm concerned, this Delphine is of no sound use to you. Your requirements will remain the same, with or without her complications.'

'But what if the dragons do start a war? I can't fight them all myself,' she shot back, exasperated and a bit desperate.

'I'm going to need help!'

Arngeir's gaze flicked from hers over to Farkas beside her, and he nodded.

'You will have it. From sources you can trust, Dragonborn. Your known allies, and those sworn to serve you. At least their motives are known to you.'

She felt Farkas's hand as it dropped onto her shoulder, and she sighed, shooting him a grateful glance. She was frustrated; Arngeir was right, and she knew it...

But something about the encounter wouldn't let her go. Finally, she shook her head.

'She just seemed...informed,' Merrin said carefully, eyes narrowed on the tabletop.

'She's been having me watched, by Balgruuf's court wizard. And I know they've been working together, on some information about the dragons – I fetched some of it myself. She had a...map, of dragon burial sites, and wanted me to investigate with her.' Feeling uneasy again, she lifted her gaze back to Arngeir's, and fixed him with a serious stare.

'Is there truly no chance that she may be right? That Alduin is raising other dragons from the dead? I know he's here, on Nirn – he's spoken to me personally. If not through him, then how are they coming back?'

For several long moments there was silence, and the crackling of the flames between them was the loudest sound in the room. Arngeir looked at her with an inscrutable expression, and eyes that were as sombre as they were bright. At last he sighed, and unclasped his hands to steeple his fingers instead. He tilted his head toward her, as if making a reluctant concession.

'I believe you.'

Merrin sagged with relief at the three short words, and leaned back on an exhale as he continued.

'We have looked for Alduin in the past, uncertain of when he would arrive. But I tell you, if Alduin is resurrecting his brethren, it would be an unprecedented occurrence. I do not claim to know how the dragons have returned. I only tell you that you are tied up with them, and that while you are alone in the Blood, you are not without allies on this journey.'

'And for that I'm grateful,' she said quickly. 'But what would it mean, if Alduin was doing this?'

'It could mean many things,' Arngeir said impassively, opening his hands.

'The future isn't known for its certainty, Ysmir. We learn of such things as we are meant to. It's better by far to focus on what truths we already possess.'

Merrin sighed, torn between relief and frustration. This wasn't enough – but she had the feeling it was all she would get, for now.

Dawn was still hours away, when she and Farkas finished their preparations and made to leave High Hrothgar. Only Arngeir rose to see them off, and if he saw the shadows of fatigue etched over her face, he didn't see fit to comment. They crept as quietly as they could for the entrance, and he followed in his thick woollen robe, candle held aloft and reflecting in his eyes. Just before they turned to go, he motioned for her to wait.

'There is another important tool I can give you, in your effort to make ready,' he murmured.

'The Nords of Atmora recorded their knowledge of the Voice, on sacred structures across our landscape. They are walls, most commonly, and they are etched with Words of power. Some rest in barrows, some on mountain tops, and some scattered between. A Dragonborn will be able to take knowledge directly from these walls, if you know where to find them.'

This news served to brighten her, and Merrin looked at him hopefully.

'Do you know where I can find some?'

'I know of a few locations, myself,' he nodded. 'And I will search our tomes to see if I can't find more to pass along. Have you the map we gave you? I can mark it for you.'

Merrin dug out the map and then watched as he produced a stick of kohl and marked it – several little ticks across the province, one of them not too far from Whiterun. She smiled gratefully as he handed back the map, and he smiled in turn beneath his beard.

'Stay in touch, Ysmir. If you have any questions, write. And of course, come to us any time you see the need. If I find any more Word sources in my search, I'll send you word to Whiterun.'

'I will. Thank you very much, master Arngeir,' she answered sincerely, and reached out to brush his hand with hers.

'You've been so much help, all of you.'

'It is my pleasure and my duty. Take care, on the path. And Wind guide you.'

It was next to pitch-black on the Steps, and biting cold, and Merrin was glad she had something to guide her as she started the trek back down to the world below. Farkas seemed to have better eyesight than her somehow, and he took the lead as they picked their way down in the dark, calling out to her over the wind, occasionally grabbing her hand. She was thankful for the darkness, then.

For a long time, they focused on nothing but traveling safely, and time seemed to pass slower than usual as they trudged on. It wasn't until the first light of dawn came creeping over the eastern peaks to illuminate their world in pearly pink, that Farkas turned to her and stopped.

'There's something I need to say to you, Mer.' He sounded cautious, and his blue eyes glinted uneasily as they met hers.

'I'm not sure you're gonna like it.'

Her heart jolted at the words, and she had to forcibly shove away the nonsense fear that it was something to do with them before she could answer. She nodded, a bit too jerky to be natural, and her voice came out a bit breathless.

'What is it?'

'Arngier...I'm not sure he was totally honest with you, last night.'

'...Fuck.' Her tone sank like the pit in her stomach, and she shook her head before squeezing the bridge of her nose.

'You, too? I kind of felt that way, after I'd gone to bed, but I...what made you think so?'

'Uuhm...' He bit his lip, and looked down at the frosty stone beneath their feet, as if searching for words.

'I dunno, he just seemed sort of shady. Like he was holding something back. Something about his face, and the way he talked.' Farkas looked at her unhappily, as if in apology, and shook his head.

'Godsdammit.' She let out a harsh sigh, and raked a hand through her hair, scowling.

'I picked up something like that, too. It just took time to hit me. But what would the Greybeards lie about? I've been thinking it over,' she admitted lowly, 'and I'm coming up empty.'

'I don't know.' He frowned. 'Maybe they want something from you? Or they're trying to steer you toward something?'

'You mean other than staying alive and doing my mysterious duty?' Merrin ground her teeth, frustrated.

'I don't know. It makes no sense – why warn me about people wanting to use me, if they want to use me?'

'I guess you're right, there,' he admitted, and crossed his arms over his chest. 'That wouldn't be very smart.'

'Maybe we're reading into nothing,' she muttered – then scowled again. 'I don't know. Or maybe I'm being wishful, now. I'm pretty sure I need them, Farkas – the Greybeards have all the knowledge here, or most of it. And I can't do all this shit alone!'

'Hey, hey. None of that. You're not alone, Mer.' Shaking his head, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, looking down at her earnestly.

'No matter what, you've got me on your side. And the others, back home. And your family.'

'...True,' she admitted. He nodded, emphatic.

'Maybe he's keeping something from us – or maybe we're just wrong. So far, they've done right by you. I really don't think they'd do anything that would put you in danger, either way. So how about we just stick to the plan we've got, and see how it goes? Keep our eyes open, and steady on?' He grabbed her other shoulder now, standing square in front of her, and coaxed her with big blue eyes.

'I just wanted to put all the cards on the table. If they turn out to be crooked, we can go our own way, and figure this out ourselves. No harm done. But for now, why not just see how things go, with their help?'

He had a good point. And they didn't have enough proof, to really be suspicious – no real proof at all. For a few seconds Merrin stood there, mulling it over. Then finally, she sighed and nodded.

'You're right. Until they really give us a reason not to...we'll trust them.' She met his gaze and held it, and a glimmer of warmth passed between them.

'Thank you for helping me work this out, Farkas. You're a godsend.'

His cheeks colored a bit, but he shook his head and grinned, letting go of her shoulders.

'Ah, I'm just a Nord. But even for Nords, it's gettin' cold out here, just standing around. Let's go.'

She laughed, swatting at him, and then nodded. And as they adjusted their packs and carried on, Merrin felt a lot lighter than before.

The hardest part of this job was all but done. The horn was delivered, she'd passed her tests. She'd gotten some of the answers she was after. And she had something of a goal in mind – even if it was vague. For now, she would try to trust that the rest would come.

Eyes on the prey.

The day warmed up as they descended, and then wore on. Nothing on two or four legs gave them any trouble, and when they met a couple of pilgrims climbing the Steps, they only stopped for a moment to talk about the weather higher up. The trees along the path started thinning, and just as the sun was beginning to set, their view opened up onto Ivarstead and the glorious forest around it.

Farkas waited until they were approaching the bridge into the village, to speak up.

'So, where are we headed?'

She sighed. 'I suppose to Fastred and Klimmek, since we put them off. Narfi will take care of the horses tonight, if we don't make it over there.'

Mildly, he snorted. 'If we don't make it?' His meaning was clear, and she just shot him a grim little smile.

'Just wait and see. You've never been Fastred's house guest.'

But he found out fast. When they came to Klimmek's yard they spotted Safni, all long limbs in a baggy brown dress as she snatched fresh laundry off the line. Around a linen bedsheet she noticed them, and dropped her basket with a squeal of delight. By the time they'd climbed the stone steps to the gate, she'd shouted through the front door to herald their arrival, and launched herself into Merrin's arms. Her parents were at the door seconds later, trailing more children, and inside of a minute the both of them were ushered in the house amid a whirl of exclamations.

'We're about to have supper – of course you'll stay,' Fastred said, and it wasn't a question. Klimmek was sent to grab chairs from the basement, and by the time he surfaced with them, two extra places were already set. Farkas was ushered to the head of the table, opposite Klimmek, and he'd hardly finished stammering his thanks before Fastred was piling fried fish and mashed turnips onto his plate.

There was an argument about who would get to sit closest to aunt Merrin and the giant stranger, and in the end it was Hana who won out. The little girl stared at Farkas as if he were a brand-new toy, and the question of 'who are you?' opened up a floodgate of others that hardly stopped, for a while. Farkas was happy to answer, even when the older two joined in, and Merrin had to stifle her laughter with a hand as she locked eyes with Fastred. In the end, Fastred had to come to his rescue, calling off her children so he had a chance to eat.

The adults asked Merrin how their trip had gone, and she sobered herself to answer. She told them some about their ride, and giving the horn to the greybeards. She didn't have the heart to tell them about Delphine, or anything she'd said – so she left that out altogether. The story of her Naming ceremony earned rapt attention, especially from Klimmek and Leifur, and Klimmek interrupted her partway through.

'We heard them Shouting, clear as day, and the avalanches that followed in the valley over! That must've been for you!'

Fastred hushed him affectionately, giving him a pointed elbow.

'Let her finish the story, an' be thankful the avalanches missed us so you're around to hear it.'

Merrin winced at that, reminded of concerns she'd already had, and apologized.

'I'm so sorry about that. Hopefully no more slides – at least not that I cause.'

The rest of the news wasn't for young ears, so the talk got tabled as dinner finished up. Farkas wanted to help clear away, but he was waylaid by children begging him to come see their books and toys, and Fastred shooed him from the kitchen grinning from ear to ear. In another minute they were set up by the fire, Farkas pulling the string on a wooden top he'd been presented to send it skittering over the floor. Soren was so taken with him that he had to sit right in his lap, and the toddler laughed and shrieked with excitement as his sisters chased after the toy.

Merrin was so absorbed by the picture, feeling warm and pulse beating fast, that she wasn't pulled from her reverie until she felt a splash of soapy water. She returned to herself where she stood by the washbasin, next to Fastred, who had a soapy spoon held aloft and a knowing glint in her eyes.

'Merrin,' her best friend murmured, a smile tugging at her mouth.

'Am I detecting a little something going on, with your 'friend'?'

She had no time to steel herself – she couldn't help it. Instantly Merrin felt her face color, and she swatted at Fastred to be quiet as she turned away from the others and buried her face in her hands.

'Don't start.'

'Oh, my gods.' A peek through her fingers showed Fastred's mouth dropping open, eyes going wide and shiny as the smile grew huge, and she let out a girlish giggle.

'There is!' Nimble fingers grabbed the dry-cloth tucked in her belt, and Fastred made to snap the towel at her as she laughed in delight. Quick as a snake, Merrin caught it, wrenching it from her hands and closing the single step between them as she covered Fastred's mouth.

'Fastred! Don't,' she whispered frantically through her teeth, and didn't dare to look away from her friend's face as she gave her a desperate little shake.

'Please don't start, I am begging you. It's nothing.'

Fastred grabbed her hand and pried it from her mouth, giving Merrin a waspish swat as she grinned.

'Nothing, my ass,' she whispered triumphantly, and green eyes flitted into the other room past her shoulder before coming back to hers.

'How long, Merry?'

'I cannot talk about this right now,' Merrin hissed, and shot her a pleading look. Another burst of laughter came from the next room, and quietly Fastred scoffed.

'Oh, as if he's gonna hear anything over the circus!'

'He might,' Merrin insisted, and grabbed Fastred's hand to pull her past the wall, out of sight. She cornered her friend against the wooden beams and leaned in, nose to nose.

'It's nothing. Mostly nothing. We are just friends, and I am keeping it strictly professional between us,' she breathed, willing giddy Fastred to take her seriously with stern eyes that smouldered.

'And you are not to breathe a word, not to Klimmek or your ma or anyone, and not to make a big deal. Understand? Please.'

The hinges of the door went sharply creaking as Klimmek came back in from doing the compost, and the women locked eyes as something unspoken passed between them. Merrin watched as Fastred visibly reined herself in, and gave a reluctant little nod.

'Oh, fine. Spoilsport,' she muttered, and as Merrin nodded and backed up, Fastred tossed her a look that very clearly said 'this isn't over'. She snatched the dry-cloth and smoothed her hair as she stepped back to the sink, and grabbed a dish just as Klimmek came into the kitchen.

'I like your friend, Merrin,' he said with an easy smile, stopping to drop a kiss onto Fastred's forehead.

'He's really got a way with the bairns.'

Merrin caught Fastred's secret smile aimed at the sink, and it was all she could do to agree without flushing again.

Leifur and Safni convinced their parents to let them pop some corn in the hearth as the evening wore on, and everyone settled comfortably in the living room to enjoy a snack and the fire. Fastred snuck so many surreptitious glances between Merrin and Farkas that Merrin was sure he'd catch on, and just kept the lowest profile she possibly could, playing with her niblings and trying not to cringe. It was once again announced and not suggested that they would of course stay the night here, and with a pile of children giving her puppy eyes, she could hardly say no.

Merrin suspected that Fastred planned to wait until she could get her alone, and then grill her some more; but if it was true, she ended up foiled. The book that Safni asked to read for the room ended up putting Fastred to sleep nearly as quick as it did the two youngest, and when she started snoring softly in the low light, Klimmek chuckled and rose from his chair. He dragged out two pallets and draped them with furs, and he and his two oldest children bid them softly goodnight. He gathered Fastred into his arms, and each of the eldest did the same with a sleeping sibling, and then all of them marched quietly down the stairs into the basement.

For the first time since getting back to the village, she and Farkas were alone.

They were quiet as they started getting ready for bed, and the silence did something strange to Merrin. The longer they didn't speak, alone in this low-lit room, the thicker with tension the air seemed to get; the more aware of her own body she seemed to get, and the harder her heart started pounding. The whisper of her tunic coming off sounded loud and raspy – the water she splashed onto her face from the basin made her shudder. She was brushing her hair in long strokes and worrying about the pounding of her heart, when Farkas spoke and made her jump.

'Hey, you alright?'

It was if he could tell – for one paranoid second, she wondered if he could hear her heart thundering in her chest. Then she forced herself to face him and smile.

'Yeah, I'm fine. You?'

In that bubble of tension she could cut with a knife, the thing she'd been most aware of was him. Every tiny sound he'd made, and the energy of his presence behind her. Like two bugs in a spider's web, sending out vibrations.

Her eyes drifted down to his chest, covered by his tight undershirt, and she forced them skittering back up to lock with his. The fire danced in them, muddling their blue, and he smiled back uncertainly as he lowered himself to his pallet.

'I'm great. But you seem...jumpy.'

'It's been a really long day.' That was true, but it wasn't the root, and she knew it. She just had to hope he wouldn't. A shiver wanted to crawl up her spine as she lowered herself onto the pallet next to his, but she managed to suppress it. Warmth from the fire washed over her chest and arms, left bare by her undershirt, and Merrin was grateful. Beside her, he stretched and nodded, and the concern left his face.

'That, it has. I'm glad to be crashing in a friendly spot.' Suddenly he grinned at her, and his eyes went warm and bright.

'Your family is great, by the way. I'm glad I got to meet them.'

'They think the same about you,' she murmured, and couldn't help but smile. With them talking again, the tension was lifting like a fog, and she was relieved to feel her pulse slowing again.

'I didn't know you liked kids so much.'

'And why not?' He chuckled. 'Kids are bright spots, in a cold world. That's what Tilma's always said, and I agree with her.'

'Fair enough.' The look on his face made her stomach flutter, so she looked into the hearth instead.

'You'll probably meet the rest of them tomorrow.'

'I look forward to it.' She could hear the smile in his voice, and feel his eyes on the side of her face. But she wasn't brave enough to look. A sudden swell of that same tension spiked in the air – and then just as quickly, it faded away. A moment had passed.

She heard Farkas groan as he flopped onto his back, and then heave a contented sigh. Then he continued on, as if the tension hadn't happened.

'But as for right now, I'm still full of enough fried fish to feed a horker, and I plan on sleeping it off.'

Merrin forced herself to answer past a lump in her throat.

'That sounds like a plan.'

They said their good-nights, and Merrin laid down, pulling a fur up high enough to tuck beneath her chin. She was feeling restless and antsy as the quiet crept back in, and listening to the sound of his breath beside her was making it worse.

She rolled onto her side on the pallet, not letting herself think any of the thoughts crowding the edges of her mind, and stared into the fire instead. She willed herself to think of nothing – just to watch the flickering flames.

It took a long time and many attempts, for her to fall asleep.

The sound of childish giggling was what woke her, in the morning.

It was still early, if the pale light crawling through the window was any indication. But together with the fire's last embers, it gave her enough light to see by. And what she saw had her snaking a hand over her mouth, to stifle a laugh.

Hana and Soren were a few feet away, crouched in their pyjamas next to Farkas' pallet. The man in question was sound asleep, heavy limbs sprawled and tangled in his furs, snoring and oblivious to the world. The world, and the wispy grey feather that Hana held an inch above his nose, tickling him each time he inhaled. She watched as he snorted and scrunched up his face, and both children lapsed again into more quiet giggles. The feather blew upward as he breathed out, and Soren clapped his little hands.

'Aga, aga!' He burbled, and Merrin's eyes widened in recognition – again, again! He was so close! She would have to tell Fastred!

His older sister indulged him, lowering the feather again, and Merrin watched in amusement as the whole process happened another five times. When Farkas finally roused enough to swat a giant hand in the feather's direction, she decided to step in.

She feigned waking up, with a giant, obvious yawn and a slow, rolling stretch. Little churchmice gasped and fell quiet as she gave an exaggerated smack of the lips, and by the time she slowly started lifting herself to an elbow, two frantic sets of little feet were plodding back down to the basement. She heard the sound of Fastred sleepily exclaiming downstairs, and smiled to herself as she flopped onto her back.

If Fastred was awake, then the day had begun.

She had promised her family a visit, when she'd last come to town. And with her job finally done, Merrin allowed herself to make good. Farkas was happy to stay a day.

They ate breakfast with the family, and then headed to Fellstar to pitch in on the day's work.

Farkas got introduced to Jofthor and Boti. Merrin held her breath for that, and Jofthor didn't disappoint; he took one long look at Farkas from his porch before he asked 'Gods! What'd they feed YOU as a babe? Compost?' Everyone laughed, except for Soren who was too young, and Boti, who was too busy smacking at her husband for his smart mouth. Then they'd shaken hands, with a kiss to the knuckles for Boti, and the day's work began.

They split up, Merrin heading for the hives with Fastred while Boti tasked Farkas with pulling up carrots – 'put those muscles to use!'Harvest was upon them, and the farm was looking abundant. The children made a game of who could pick the most runner beans, and Klimmek went down the rows of squash with a sharp pair of shears and a practiced eye.

It was a delivery day, and by noon they'd gathered enough to fill the village orders. Safni went with Merrin to collect the eggs, and then Fastred helped her prepare the baskets. Delivery was usually Leifur's job, but he was more than happy to shirk the task in favor of helping his grandda with the watering. Merrin volunteered, and Farkas asked to join her – missing the satisfied smirk that Fastred shot her way. With them going, Hana and Soren were wild to go too, and their parents welcomed a brief reprieve from having them underfoot.

And so the merry band of four set off, with all but Soren lugging at least a couple baskets, and Farkas lugging half a dozen. Every time they stopped to deliver or met someone in the road, Merrin stopped to introduce him, and the children worked their charms. Even Temba couldn't help but smile when they met her at the mill, and Merrin watched as Liodes crouched to the dirt and fished some sweets from his pocket to give them.

Merrin felt oddly shy when she walked up the path to her and her da's old house, and handed off a couple of baskets to the Erenson woman. She was pale and fair, with hair like spun gold, and two little girls who looked much the same stared up at her with huge blue eyes as they clutched their mother's green skirts. The woman smiled kindly at Merrin, introducing herself as Helleh, and when they saw no threat, both girls greeted Hana with grins and little fluttering waves.

'We've heard so much about you,' Helleh said in a sweet voice. 'It's so good to finally meet you!'

'Th-thank you,' Merrin stammered. 'Well met. It's nice to see the house getting used.'

Soren was tired of walking, and by the time they left the Erenson's porch, he was slumped and dozing on Merrin's shoulder. Farkas was the last with any baskets left, so she had both arms to carry him. They hadn't gone far when she noticed Gwilin standing in the road, and beside him his best friend in town – Narfi.

Narfi's eyes lit up when he spotted her and the children, and he left Gwilin to close the gap between them as he clapped his hands with glee.

'Merrin, Merrin! Oh my goodness! Seeing you again so soon? It must be Narfi's lucky day!' His gaze drifted down to Hana beside her, and his smile grew even wider.

'And little Hana too! So prim and proper! Narfi loves your pretty dress!'

It was a compliment of the highest order, and Hana's chest puffed with pride. She smoothed her little hands down the frilly blue frock as she beamed up at Narfi.

'Thank you, Narfi! It's my newest most favorite! Grandma made it jus' for me!'

The lanky Nord looked at Farkas last, neck bending from one way to the other as he took the huge man in. He tipped his head to the side, looking pleasantly surprised, and spoke to Merrin without looking at her.

'And who is this? He's very tall!'

'His name is Farkas, Narfi! He's a friend of mine. We got here last night, and today he's helping me and Fastred's folks on the farm.'

Narfi exclaimed, an interested sound, and Merrin turned her head to Farkas.

'Farkas, meet Narfi. He's a dear friend, more like family. He lives with Wilhelm, in the Vilemyr.'

Farkas was already reaching out his hand, and the two men shook enthusiastically as they smiled at one another.

'It's good to meet you, Narfi.'

'You too, you too!'

Gwilin caught up to Narfi then, a smile already gracing his pointed face, and this time Narfi led the introductions, sounding very pleased. Farkas and Gwilin shook hands, and then the cheerful Bosmer put his hands on his narrow hips.

'Making deliveries then, I see? Good on you. Nothing cheers miss Temba up like a jar of fresh Fellstar honey!'

'We're almost finished, now,' Merrin sighed with a smile. 'We just have the inn left.'

'Let Narfi help, then!' Narfi exclaimed, and without waiting for an answer he grabbed two of Farkas' baskets, and shouldered them himself.

'Narfi loves to help! And you can see Wilhelm – and your horses!' He turned around, laughing like a child, and started briskly toward the Vilemyr, talking over his shoulder.

'The boy was good – but not the girl. She likes to bite! Goodbye, Gwilin!'

They parted ways with the elf, and Hana looked up at Farkas as they followed behind, a sage expression on her little face.

'Narfi is special. Mama says he's like me, just all growed up!' She said it with obvious pride.

Farkas smiled down at her, and when she offered him a tiny hand, he took it in his own and nodded.

'Well, I like him! He seems funny and nice.'

'He is!' Hana grinned, and nodded her little head emphatically.

'He does the best card tricks – and he lets me ride the cows!'

And so, Farkas was a smash hit with pretty much everyone in Ivarstead – except for Wilhelm. To her utter chagrin, her da's best friend took one look at Farkas when they swept into the Vilemyr, and crossed his arms. He gave Farkas the shortest handshake he could manage, and then turned to Merrin, ignoring him entirely.

'You'll come for supper? And to stay the night?' Shrewd green eyes looked her over, and Merrin couldn't help but feel like she was in trouble as she nodded. 'Good' was the brusque reply, and then they found themselves shooed from the inn, told to come back at dusk as Narfi waved cheerfully from the bar. Wilhelm stopped at the door to fish a couple of coins for Hana and Soren from his pocket – all smiles as he handed them over to the little girl. Then he straightened up and sniffed, a disapproving sound, and closed the wooden door. The oblivious Hana skipped down the porch steps, and Merrin turned to Farkas, embarrassed and lost for words.

'I...am sorry, about that. About him. He's usually – '

'Don't sweat it, Mer.' Farkas smiled and shook his head, stepping off the porch.

'I think he's suspicious of me. Probably thinks I'm chasing your tail.'

He said it so matter-of-factly that it made Merrin choke, and he reached over looking mildly concerned to slap her on the back.

'Easy, easy! He has nothing to worry about.'

The words had something inside her wilting a bit. But Merrin forced herself to brush it off, and look as nonchalant as possible while she shook her head.

'He's being silly. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll come around.' Then, even though a little voice told her it was petty, Merrin marched off after Hana, leaving Farkas behind.

After delivery came yard work for the men, and laundry for the women. Merrin found herself peeping embarrassingly often out the window to catch a glimpse of Farkas, where he was splitting wood with Klimmek. It wasn't long before Fastred noticed, and Merrin thanked all the gods that Safni was there to save her from more prying. She forced herself to stop looking altogether when her niece asked her what she kept staring at, and focused all of her attention instead on the trousers she was scrubbing.

Once the laundry was wrung and hung, the whole family gathered at the farm for a late lunch. There was fresh-baked bread, and vegetable soup from the harvest, and a couple hours passed in a wash of happy chatter as news got exchanged. It was decided that work would be cut short today, since Merrin was here, and after the dishes were cleared away, they relaxed. Jofthor lit his pipe in his chair by the window, and Klimmek enticed all the men and Safni into a game of cards.

Boti made tea and then sat down to work on some knitting, craning her slender neck over her green woollen project to gossip with Merrin and Fastred. Apparently, Ynga Shale-Fist down the road had had her cousins to stay last week. They'd hardly been headed back to Windhelm, before she'd ridden the mule down to Fellstar. 'To hear the woman talk about 'em, you'd think she hated 'em!' Boti exclaimed with a laugh. Beneath them, stomach-down on the floor, Hana occupied herself with a new drawing, lost to the world; Soren slept in the crook of his mother's arm.

It did Merrin's heart good to be here like this, and she sat there happy just to soak it all in. She was enjoying herself so much that it surprised her when Boti pointed out the time, and told her they should be heading to Wilhelm. She startled as she looked out the window, and saw that the light was fading.

She and Farkas said their good-nights, and then extricated themselves as smoothly as they could. There were no sleeping children this time, and they only made their escape after promising to see them all tomorrow. Fastred and Boti stood waving in the doorway, back-lit by the light of the fire Klimmek lit. They made a perfect picture, and Merrin sighed to herself as she and Farkas started down the dirt road.

No matter what happened, this place would always be home.

Wilhelm had his hands full, when they got to the Vilemyr. On top of Temba and her workers, he had pilgrims to tend to; the pair she and Farkas had met on the Steps had called it quits early, and three more had drifted in hoping to start their climb tomorrow. Narfi was busy tending to their horses and Wilhelm was looking overwhelmed, so Merrin jumped in to help, running drinks and plates of food. He shot her a grateful glance as he handed her another round, and before too much longer, things had settled down. Narfi came in through the back door after that, and Wilhelm wordlessly made up three plates before setting them down on the bar.

Merrin, Farkas and Narfi sat on their stools, and tucked in. It was chicken pot pie tonight, and when Farkas complimented the food, Wilhelm looked begrudgingly pleased. Before long, Farkas and Narfi were deep in conversation – talking first about grooming horses, and then about the instruments they played. Merrin only listened with half an ear, though; her attention was on Wilhelm. He looked tense as he flitted from table to table, uncharacteristically attentive, even for him. It dawned on her after a while that he was avoiding the bar – avoiding Farkas? Within an hour of her being there, Temba and half of the pilgrims had retired to their rooms, and yet he still stayed out on the floor, grabbing a broom and sweeping under tables.

Her suspicions were all but confirmed, when Narfi invited Farkas to hear him play, and the two drifted over to the firepit to join the other men. Merrin was left sitting by herself, pushing the last of her dinner around the plate – and miraculously, within a couple of minutes, Wilhelm sauntered up to the bar and grabbed himself a rag.

'How was your supper?' She didn't miss the gruff edge to his voice, and he sighed as he started wiping down the old wooden bartop.

'Thanks for th'help, by the way.'

She didn't bother wasting time; instead she lifted a brow, and cut right to the chase.

'Don't mention it. How about you tell me what's got you so cranky?'

He glanced up at her, looking annoyed, and frowned as he furrowed his bushy brow and looked back down.

'Cranky? Don't know what you mean.'

'Oh, come off it, Wilhelm,' she said impatiently. 'I know you better than that. Fess up.'

His shoulders hunched as he stopped his scrubbing, and he tossed down the rag with an impatient sound as he met her gaze again.

'Oh, fine. If anything's got me put out, it's that Bassianus. Keeps having me run downstairs for bottles of vintage, even though I've got the full of it serving the guests. Man's a poncy little menace, y'ask me.'

'Hmmm.' Deliberately she set down her fork and nudged her plate aside, steepling her hands together on the bartop and eyeing him shrewdly.

'You seemed pretty peeved earlier today, when you all but shoved us out the door. I didn't see Bassianus then.'

The older man huffed. 'I've had a very busy day.'

'I see. I was worried that maybe it had something to do with my company.'

Merrin watched closely for a reaction, and got it; ever so slightly Wilhelm twitched, and his sea-green eyes slid away from hers as he shook his head and scowled.

'Don't know whatcha mean,' he repeated.

'Last time I came here with a friend of mine, you were a lot more welcoming.'

Wilhelm's only response to that was a grunt. He turned his head, looking over to where Narfi was entertaining Farkas and the other guests, and his expression soured a bit more. She took a chance, reaching out and laying a hand over one of Wilhelm's where it rested on the bar. That had him turning back to look at her, and Merrin pressed gingerly onward.

'Is it because he's a man?'

'It's because he's a stranger.'

'He's not a stranger to me,' Merrin pointed out. 'He's a friend, and a good man. I'm sure you'll like him too, when—'

Wilhelm really surprised her, then – by cutting her off. His expression went pinched and shuttered, losing its heat and instead just looking closed-off. When he spoke next, his voice was quiet.

'You treat me like I'm dumb and blind. An' I'm not. Listen here, Merrin. I don't hafta like him – I don't even know him. And I'll not bicker with you on this, anymore.' He slid his hand out from under hers, and reached under the bar for two pewter candlesticks.

'I'm getting your rooms made up. Th'rest are all finished. An' then I'm goin' to bed. Make sure t' clear your scraps.'

He lumbered off, leaving Merrin speechless with surprise, and more than a little dismay. She turned on her stool to watch him as he unlocked two separate rooms, and started pulling bedding from an armoire inside.

You treat me like I'm dumb and blind...and I'm not...

What on Nirn had gotten into him? Could Farkas be right?

Ivarstead was rosy with the first hint of dawn, when a lone woman slipped from the Vilemyr and paused in its garden. She tarried just long enough to get what she needed, and then strode down the path away from the inn, down the main road of the sleeping village. She listened to the birdsong as she made a turn, passing Fellstar farm and then leaving the road altogether; climbing the hill to Shroudhearth barrow, and then past it, to a clearing at the edge of the woods.

She stopped for a moment to look out at lake Geir, feeling the breeze off the water as it played with her hair. Then she looked down to the ground at her feet, and what she'd come here for: two graves, side by side on the crest of the hill.

Merrin knelt to the earth in front of them, and sighed. One by one, she placed the fresh bouquets she'd picked from the garden against the headstones, before leaning forward. She pulled a rag from her pocket, and used it to scrub away the moss that had crept in with time. Once she was satisfied, a final brush of bare fingertips ghosted over each stone. Then she settled back to survey her work.

Da's was of course the freshest, only four years old, with the words still clear on stone that was fully intact. Her eyes idly traced the familiar words:

Hakon Hansson

Husband, Father, Brother, Smith

Spill No Tears

I Am Gone To My Rest

She felt her chest twist with the familiar pain, and grabbed two loose handfuls of her tunic where it pooled in her lap to steady herself.

The headstone next to his was much older, and though it had been the grandest they could afford at the time, the weathered stone crumbled at the edges now, the epitaph grainy and worn. But Merrin knew it off by heart.

Here Lies

Sigva Rogalsdotter – Beloved Wife and Mother

and Beirand Hakonsson – Beloved Son and Brother

We Mourn Under Dark Skies

Yet Wherever They Go, There Will Be Sunshine

She sat for a long time in the grass, staring with unseeing eyes at the worn grey stone.

She'd wondered countless times, at why the gods saw fit to do as they did. She'd cursed them too many times to count, for taking her family away. And with Da gone, she was the only one left...she didn't know if the pain of that would ever leave her.

But she wasn't alone. Her blood was gone, but she still had a family. Shaking herself from her reverie, Merrin leaned forward to touch one stone, and then the other. She cleared her throat, and then added her quiet voice to the sounds all around her.

'It looks to be a beautiful sunrise. I hope you're all enjoying it, where you are. I miss you, and love you. But please, don't worry for me...I'm alright.'

She kissed her fingers and then pressed them to the stones one more time, before rising to her feet. Then she stared for one second longer, and turned to walk back down the hill, trailed by birdsong and whispering wind. A door opened somewhere as she walked down the road toward the inn – the start of another day. And as she passed her old home on her way to the Vilemyr, the sun rose over the treetops, magnificent gold.

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