It's hard to take the next step in your journey when something heavy comes along and forces you to carry it with you. In this case, his armor didn't do jack for his friends against the Draugr army of Vals Veran. For a Blacksmith, that's a major disgrace to their skill, even if they still succeeded in putting the bastard down. Here we see Hverg hunched over a fence, overly lamenting his failure.

To his right, an armored woman is leaning against the same rail. Twas Mjoll the Lioness, doing her nightly patrol of Riften. It was easy for her to see his forlorn expression. So she decided to talk to him, to see if she could find the source of his woes. They headed back to the Bee and Barb for some drinks, and a few bottles of Honningbrew Mead later he wouldn't stop talking.

When he confessed his sorrow, she brought up the question of their training. Hverg...felt like an idiot. Truly, one's experience in battle made up as much of their combat as their armor. But as a War-Smith, he heavily neglected the former. He had jumped into this whole business with a half-hearted resolve, overly reliant on his smithing talents.

But he's always been this way. Once he'd set his mind towards a goal, he made sure to see it through. The problem is that he'd often rush into the thick of it with only a bare understanding of what was necessary. That's how he became a War-Smith in the first place. He himself needed more training on the field of battle before he could do the "War" in "War-Smith" any justice.

The two of them talked and talked and talked the night away, and when it was daybreak, Hverg made a sudden offer: He wanted her to come with her to train with The Companions in Whiterun. Having heard of her exploits and journeys, he had a feeling that she could be the one who would wear his ultimate armor. Mjoll was flattered, but refused, because her signature weapon, Grimsever, was lost to her. Without it, she felt as helpless as a newborn baby.

"Ha! If that's all ya need then how bout I go fetch it fer ya?" Hverg said in a haughty tone. With his confidence mostly restored (that was fast), he felt like he needed her with him on his journey. Not just because her skills made her potential, but because he truly enjoyed her company. Of course, Grimsever was stuck in a Dwarven Ruin, which means Falmer, Dwemer Constructs and all sorts of traps.

But Hverg was adamant in her potential. He'd start again, and this time he wouldn't let his allies die due to his foolishness. And if he died trying, well then he wouldn't be much use to the word anyways. Swiftly, he began forging a new set of Steel Plate Armor, as well as a new Mace, setting his Mystic Smithing Hammer aside, as its damage output was lacking. Then he journeyed to Dawnstar to stock up for his expedite into Mzinchaleft.