The silence in the small room was tense and loaded as Kodlak took place in his chair. Aela and Vilkas leant against the desk, close to each other, shoulders touching, arms crossed. They built a front against us, or they searched each other’s closeness. I didn’t know. But both radiated nervousness and worry. It spread…
Tiny needles were piercing my cheek, faint chinks skittering through my skull. The skin was wet. There was no pain, only a small fleck of awareness. I was so tired. Too tired to bother about the numbness. The snow beneath me was ancient and harsh, cooling the heat on my face. The crystals tickled when…
I was on my own and dependent only on myself, the strength of my arm and of my will. My own perseverance. Odahviing had dropped me off a short distance beneath the looming walls of Skuldafn, and his farewell had been short and taciturn. “We will meet again if you return, Dovahkiin,” he had said.…
It was deep in the night, and yet Whiterun was beautiful and alive. I heard the firm steps of the guards, someone running down the steps from Dragonsreach and a drunkard staggering away from the inn. I heard children cry and a mother singing a lullaby, snoring and yelling and laughing, the guttural moans of…
The tomb where I was supposed to search for the Jagged Crown was a crypt called Korvanjund in the southern Pale. Stormcloak territory, another reason why Rikke couldn’t just send her own troops, and the easiest and fastest way to get there was via Whiterun. The Legate made sure personally that I climbed the wagon…
Vignar proved to be invaluable before we even entered the palace. While I would have just strolled in and hoped to find a way to speak with the Jarl, Vignar wrote a note as soon as we arrived at Candlehearth Hall, asking officially for an appointment. The courier returned while we sat in the main…
“Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax greeted me, and his voice rang over the mountain as if he aimed to be heard down in Ivarstead. He sat on top of his wall as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t moved for weeks and waited for me. Perhaps he had. I was sore and tired from the way…
He is gone. They’re both gone. No move, no sound, no breath is left. A small trickle of red runs from the corner of his mouth down his chin and vanishes behind his ear, the snow beneath him molten from the blood that has washed the life from his body. Just his eyes are still…
Relief surged through me as we stood in the door and watched after the man walking towards the market place. He didn’t look back, and I relaxed into Farkas’ arms that were slung around my waist. His brother was finally on his way to Jorrvaskr. Vilkas had been taciturn about his conversation with Kodlak, but…
“What was that for?” Farkas stood at the foot of the stairs after Vilkas and Njada had left, his face creased into a startled, confused frown. I didn’t know myself. When Vilkas came down the stairs, armoured, freshly painted, sword and bow strapped to his back and his face set in determination, I couldn’t help…
Springinkerl 