UJON Book Five, Part One, In Which A Resurrection Is Performed

  • 16th Frostfall

     

    Rumarin was always impressed by how much Nerussa managed to carry with her. Impressed, and vaguely horrified. He’d always been taught to travel light, his parents’ theatre group had prided themselves on their ability to use two tatty dresses, a moth-eaten cape, and a sack full of bits and pieces to convince audiences, just for an evening, that they really were seeing a pair of burglars picking over a haunted manor or Ellabeth, Queen of the Axe, kidnapping poor Lorinthyrae. Once he’d started adventuring, he’d found his summoned weapons more than adequate, and the lack of armour made both running and hiding easier, if he’d adventured somewhere a bit too exciting. He couldn’t heal himself magically, of course, so he needed a few potions for this and that, and his bedroll, and that was generally it.

     

    Nerussa, on the other hand… He could hear her dashing around the Lodge, slamming open chests and wardrobes, stashing items for sale near the front door, shoving interesting-looking enchanted gear in the crafting chest to be examined more closely when she had time. She’d just dumped her main pack on the floor of the kitchen, with her share of the camping gear, empty waterskins, and so on spilling out of the top. It wasn’t quite the homecoming he’d been looking forward to, but he was mostly just relieved he wasn’t Delphine, judging by the tone of the words that kept coming before “…Blade!” He didn’t know what any of them meant, they certainly weren’t Tamrielic, but he could hazard a guess.

     

    Delphine had wanted to travel to Kynesgrove as a group, but Nerussa had been quite clear. The Blade had said tonight or tomorrow, and it was only around two hours’ walk. Nerussa was not going to walk to Kynesgrove, where there was a perfectly serviceable inn, with her camping gear, empty food jars, no potions to speak of, and whatever treasures she’d brought out of Ustengrav. She also had no intention of fighting a dragon with only three others. Delphine had balked at that, but admitted that killing the dragon single-handed wasn’t what she needed to see, so much as what happened once the creature was dead. There was also no sense in risking the life of, as Delphine had so rightly said, the only person around who could permanently kill a dragon, not to mention her two companions, and potentially an entire village for the sake of bravado. This was, after all, only the second dragon Nerussa had actually fought. So Lydia had been sent to Whiterun to drop off unnecessary gear, with a heavy coinpurse, to hire some extra hands, preferably ones familiar with the bow.

     

    The commotion had subsided somewhat. Rumarin ventured quietly to the bottom of the stairs leading up to Nerussa’s quarters, and smiled, hearing the faint clicking sound of the Dragonborn picking up a handful of gemstones from the bowl by her bed and letting them drop through her fingers. It was something she did to relax, she’d told him, when her head felt like it was going to explode. She would sometimes go very quiet, and very still, and he knew now to stay quietly nearby in case she needed him, but not to try to attract her attention or make her speak. She didn’t get upset if he did, exactly, but it seemed to make it harder for her, and he didn’t want that.

     

    In any case, she was finished now. She called down that she was just going to change her robes, and he went to the kitchen to fetch the sword he kept on the weapon rack by the door. He was planning to use a summoned bow, as he wouldn’t have to worry about running out of arrows, but against a dragon, he thought it sensible to have a back-up.

     

    He turned at the sound of Nerussa climbing the stairs behind him, and lost his breath ever so slightly. She had pulled back her hair the way she used to when they first met, when she spent most of her time with a hood covering her face. The texture and colour were still wrong, but somehow she looked more herself, nonetheless, although she’d worn rather less jewellery then. She’d changed into a set of soft, blue robes with swirling embroidery in a brighter shade of blue on the tunic and pale grey edging to the round collar. A belt around her waist held a box pouch with a number of vials of potions easily accessible, but aside from that, she seemed to be carrying nothing.

     

    “No luggage, eh? I see my good influence is finally rubbing off on you!”

     

    She rolled her eyes, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth. All of a sudden, they seemed to be standing very close together. He wasn’t sure yet if it was okay to just kiss her, but, he reasoned, if you can’t kiss someone before you head off to kill a dragon together, in order to prove to a member of an outlawed and technically disbanded organisation that they are, indeed, the only person capable of really killing a dragon, while hopefully not actually getting angry enough to tell them that you are, in fact, a former member of the group which outlawed the… Oh dear, his head was starting to hurt, and Nerussa was looking at him strangely. Sod it, he thought, just kiss her. And he did.

     

     ***

     

    Lydia still missed her steel armour sometimes, but she had to admit, this Elven gear really was a lot easier to run in. She inhaled the scent of the meadery as she passed, and was relieved that it wasn’t a muck-spreading day at Pelagia’s farm. She slowed down to enter the city, and strolled into Breezehome, greeted the labourers who were putting the finishing touches on the new fireplace, and headed down the stairs to her room. She quickly dusted the steel armour and the precious Dwemer helmet on the mannequin, before carefully unpacking her bag.

     

    Just the essentials, the Thane had said, and she agreed. No good coming prepared for anything, and having to dump a heavy pack somewhere on the ground to fight, where you’d likely trip over it just in time for the bloody dragon to land inches from your head. Bugger that. All she really needed was her sword, her crossbow, and that bandolier thing she’d made with Balimund last time they were in Riften. She could fit a LOT of bolts onto that thing, and the Elven armour meant she could actually move her arms enough to reach them all. The Thane wasn’t even bringing any money, she’d said she was going to bring jewellery she wasn’t attached to (the sapphire bracelet would be safely locked away) so she could sell that in Windhelm to cover supplies for the trip to the dig site. Lydia wasn’t coming to that, though, she was Getting The Week Off, and was planning to go and visit Ma and Da. The Thane had promised to come west to meet them after she’d finished poking around in the ruins.

     

    Her first stop was to the Drunken Huntsman to hire Jenassa, who, fortunately, was not currently otherwise employed. Growing up in Rorikstead, Lydia had been visiting Whiterun on market day since she was little, and Da always liked to visit Them Elves for a chat about hunting and new arrows when he had the money. Jenassa was sometimes there, dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, and sometimes gone, off on a job, usually keeping some idiot adventurer safe, sometimes by herself. Lydia had seen her carefully maintained set of leather armour, greaves and cuirass on a mannequin in the Dark Elf’s own basement room, lovingly polished with a cream made up by Arcadia, a troll fat base (which kept the leather from soaking up water) scented with lavender and mountain flowers. She arranged to meet Jenassa by the meadery, and headed to Jorrvaskr.

     

    The rest of the money was for “two or three Companions, preferably archers, Nords or Dunmer.” That meant Aela, a red-haired Nord around Lydia’s age from somewhere in Falkreath hold. When she wasn’t on Companion business, she was usually roaming the plains with her bow. Lydia wouldn’t admit it under torture, but Aela was one of the few people she could think of who intimidated her. She might see if Farkas was about, he was easy to talk to. So, two more archers, that probably meant Athis, and maybe the other Dunmer, the one they’d met in Windhelm. The Stormcloak. Dunmer and Nord, that was important, because of their resistance to fire and frost. No way of knowing which the dragon would breathe, so a mix was good. Shame there weren’t any Breton Companions, really. Obviously the other Circle members were also Nords, but Lydia thought there was about enough left in the purse for one Circle member and two… what did they call the other Companions? Whelps. Better than what younglings new to the Guard were called, at least. Ria was an Imperial and Torvar was a stinking drunk. So, Athis, Llerethis (that was her name!) or maybe Njada, although she was more of a two-hander than an archer.

     

    She pushed open the door to Jorrvaskr.

     

     

    17th Frostfall (small hours)

     

    Can’t sleep, so I’m sitting on the steps of the tavern, writing by the light of the moons.

     

    We arrived in Kynesgrove around sunset. Delphine was already here, pacing around, luckily for her there was no time for an argument. That enormous beast from Helgen flew overhead, almost as soon as we got to the settlement, which is really just a tavern and a few temporary dwellings around a mine – malachite, so I’m told. The locals were already on edge from Delphine’s bad mood, but Llerethis, the fighter we met in the New Gnisis, did a good job of convincing them to shelter in the mine, less comfortable than the inn, but more dragon-proof.

     

    There were ten of us, in all, two Stormcloak guards, Jenassa, three Companions, Delphine, and of course Lydia, Rumarin and myself. We made our way up the hill, cautiously, although I’d swear the Dragon was waiting for us to come within earshot. There were glowing wisps of some kind of energy emanating from the burial mound. The Dragon was… speaking, in the same language as the Shouts. Dovahzuul. I could make out a few words, but not enough, I need to study the information I have more carefully. It sounded like:

     

    Sah-lok-nir, zeel gro dovah ulse! Slen teed voh!

     

    The last three words together obviously formed a Shout, aimed at the mound, which exploded as an intact Dragon skeleton emerged. It started to glow, and flesh formed on the bones as it responded to the other Dragon. I’m glad I decided to bring my notes from the Atlas of Dragons – Sahloknir was recorded as buried here, long before the settlement was founded, from what the locals have told me. And he addressed the other Dragon as Alduin. I know his name appeared in the same book, an important figure in the Dragon War, but I should have researched him further, although I didn’t realise until now that this was him. I don’t think the Library had any other books that mentioned him, but hopefully there will be something useful at High Hrothgar.

     

    In any case, they exchanged more words, I can’t remember much, but it was horribly beautiful to hear. Almost like poetry. Dovah means dragon. Alduin addressed me in Tamrielic, although I suspect perhaps it was some trick of the mind and I only heard it as words I could understand. “You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah.” Then he spoke again to Sahloknir, and his meaning was clear enough.

     

    I think Mirmulnir, the Dragon who attacked the Watch Tower, must have been injured, because I would assume being recently resurrected would weaken any creature, but Sahloknir was certainly the stronger of the two. He breathed Frost, and I was glad of my enchanted necklace – I gave the resist magic one to Rumarin, it’s weaker but better than nothing. He wouldn’t take the frost necklace. The sun had fully set by the time he was restored to himself. It must have been after 11 when we finally defeated him, as when I stepped out of the tavern for a breath of air from the revelry, I heard the city bells marking midnight.

     

    Delphine did not wish to spend the night in Kynesgrove’s inn, we… had words on the mountainside. She’s obviously paranoid and possibly delusional, seems convinced the Thalmor have something to do with the return of Dragons. I don’t presume to think that I would have been informed if such a thing were the case, I was hardly highly ranked enough, and Elenwen clearly had no great admiration for me, with hindsight. I’m starting to wonder if she found out about my “private research”… But I am certain it is far beyond any abilities of even the greatest wizards under Thalmor sway, and I am doubtful that even the Thalmor – even after what I witnessed, what I’m now remembering of the Symposium – would be so reckless as to want to bring Dragons back.

     

    The human races do seem to have this conviction that we… that they want to end the world, but even if that were true, this would not be a method that would be seen as benefitting the supposed ends that the Thalmor are said to be working for. It’s certainly plausible that they will turn these events to their advantage, and they will undoubtedly try, but to have actually caused all this? The woman’s mad.

     

    I just about managed to remain calm through that, although I’m sure Rumarin, even with only second-hand understanding of Altmeri culture, could tell I was angry, and then she came out with the frankly astounding suggestion that I attend a Thalmor party! Apparently she thinks it’s incredibly important to snoop around the Thalmor Embassy, and that the only way to achieve this is to pass me off as some minor noble or something, and have me sneak away from some function. Idiotic, but I couldn’t exactly explain why, face sculptor or no, this was a fundamentally wrong-headed notion. In any case, the party she has in mind isn’t for a couple of months. Gives me plenty of time to practice Illusion spells, invisibility in particular, and perhaps see if I can’t get myself into the damned place beforehand.

     

    I should probably try to get some rest. The inn is, of course, packed, and Iddra was more than happy to have the business. I did bring a small pack with my journal, ink, notes and so on, and ended up bringing a small coin purse, but she seemed awfully keen on one of my rings, so I paid her with that and around half the coin in my purse. Lydia is sharing my bed, and Rumarin’s got his bedroll on the floor, with the dog. That Dunmer, Llerethis, is an impressive swordsmer, and not bad with a bow. I shall have to keep her in mind if I need to hire extra muscle at some point. Lydia’s taking the next few days to visit her family in Rorikstead, but I am already pushing it, bringing Rumarin – very much not a student of the College, along to the dig, otherwise I’d be tempted to invite her along. 

     

     

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Comments

2 Comments
  • Gnewna
    Gnewna   ·  May 26, 2016
    Thank you! Yes, I smiled when I re-read that bit :)
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  May 25, 2016
    This was cleaned up nicely. Still love the part where she plays with gems.