Dragon of the East - Arc 2, Chapter 9

• Posted by Okan-Zeeus March 13, 2015 - 1,233 views

  Reinhardt

  ~ ~ ~

  “Look out below!”

  A handful of iron nails fell through the roof of Jorrvaskr and landed right in the dining hall’s fire pit. Those were the last ones I had. I groaned. I’d have to go get some more from Eorlund over at the Skyforge.

  So, funny story! I became a Companion, right? It was like a dream come true. I was a warrior of Ysgramor, sitting at the table with some of the finest men and women Skyrim had to offer. I mean literally sitting at the table. We were eating dinner. There weren’t any jobs or contracts to take, so all we had was downtime. The bunch of us were striking up some nice conversation, good laughs, everything’s swell. Then I mentioned for some reason that I used to be a carpenter’s aid in my youth.

  Well, the Companions were thrilled to hear this! It’s like the gods themselves had sent me to save them from their woes! I was a man who knew how to work wood! Praise Talos!

  So they threw me up on their busted roof the next day and told me to fix it.

  Over a dozen planks of wood. Individually sized. To be shaped and replaced.

  Did I mention the roof of Jorrvaskr is curved? You know how wood gets curved? You soak it, then heat it. You have to heat-bend the wood. And you have to know what type of wood you’re working with. It’s a craft that demands patience and experience.

  There was only one thought on my mind…

  I haven’t worked a piece of wood in over twelve years, dammit!!

  I’m as handy as the next Nord, but I’m no miracle man! I didn’t have the means to pull off the kind of patch job those Companions were asking for. But that’s where Eorlund Grey-Mane stepped in to help. Bless that old man’s heart. He provided the water and heat, along with a hammer and nails to work with.

  Couldn’t have picked a gloomier day to work outdoors. No sun, all clouds. Cold wind too. I reviewed my handiwork thus far before climbing back down. Miserable. My repairs looked as good as warts on a wench. It was gonna take more than some spit and an amateur to fix all the damage. Most of it was scorch marks that I had to leave alone. If I tackled those along with the broken boards, I’d have to build a new Jorrvaskr. Kinda surprised I didn’t have to in the first place, remembering what was left of Helgen’s wood lodgings.

  But who was I kidding? This wasn’t just any old rooftop. Vilkas told me the Dragonborn made his stand on top of Jorrvaskr, played chicken with the dragon. That must’ve taken some hard stones. You know… if lizards have those. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it! The Dragonborn was an Argonian.

  I’ve been told the gods work in mysterious ways, but…  Well, maybe I just don’t know what mysterious is. If the Dragonborn really was Argonian, though, I trusted there was a good reason for it. The Nine have always done what’s best for us.

  Bet he’s up at High Hrothgar right now, mastering his Thu’um with the Greybeards, I thought as my feet touched the ground.

  I went over to the Skyforge where Eorlund was busy sharpening an axe on his grindstone. He was an old and tired looking man but hardy, with a thick beard and long unkempt hair. Smoke rose into the air from beneath a giant, carved stone eagle. The great forge glowed beneath the shadow of its outstretched wings.

  “Got any more nails?” I called out to the blacksmith.                           

  “Hrm? What happened to the ones I gave you?” he replied in a deep voice.

  “Should I take that as a no?”

  “Did that sound like a no, boy?”

  “They fell in the fire pit. If you don’t got any more, I’ll go fish for the ones I dropped.”

  Eorlund lifted his foot from his grind pedal and gave me a dismal look.

  “You ain’t much of a wood worker, are you?” he said.      

  I paused, looked over at Jorrvaskr, then back at the smith.

  “Don’t tell me you’re just now figuring that out.”

  The smith went back to work and shook his head, eyelids low and eyebrows raised. I shrugged. “Alright then… I’ll go find a bucket of water.” Hoped the others wouldn’t mind if I put their fire out for a while. I turned to leave, made a few steps, then stopped and turned back. I had the sudden urge to speak my mind.

  “This is some kinda initiation, isn’t it? I know how these things go. New guy joins a fancy guild and gets sacked with the dirty work.” I pointed my thumb back at the mead hall. “They treat all new bloods like this?”

  “Oh, don't worry too much about it,” the old man said. “Vilkas, Aela and the rest – they were all whelps once. They just might not like to talk about it.”

  “Aye. Who would?”

  “And don't always just do what you're told,” he added. “Around here, you learn to live your own life. Nobody rules anybody in the Companions. Every man is his own, every woman her own.”

  “Ha!” I laughed. “Easy for you to say. You’re not a Companion.”

  “Who says I have to be?” the old man scoffed.

  I left the Skyforge satisfied with our conversation. The training grounds behind Jorrvaskr were barren of people. I thought I’d heard sparring going on not too long ago. Must’ve all gone inside. I looked around for a bucket behind the training dummies, under tables, and near bushes. Not a single one in sight. Time to go check the dining hall.

  I stepped into Jorrvaskr, creaking through the doorway and dusting my boots off. I caught sight of a group of fellows talking by the fire.

  “Hey, any of you know where to find a bucket?” I asked.

  No reply. Giving a second glance, it looked like something important was happening. Vilkas, Farkas and a couple of other Companions – the drunken misfit Torvar and the sharp tongued Njada – were squabbling with a woman, a Dark Elf in ornate orange robes. She looked like one of those college mages with a satchel full of papers and a fancy wizard staff. I walked up to butt in on the conversation.

  “Who’s this?” I asked.                                                  

  “Some woman who thinks she can come here and demand our services for nothing,” Vilkas said.

  “You are the one who refuses to take my offer,” she scorned. Her voice sounded stately and poised. “Why, moments ago you sounded enthused…”

  “That was before you told us you couldn’t pay up front,” Torvar said.

  “You’ll have your full pay when the task is complete,” the Dark Elf replied. “Or is my down payment so unreasonably low?”

  “Depends,” I interrupted. “How much are we talking?”

  The woman looked at me.

  “Around two thousand Septims worth of polished gems,” she said.

  “Oh-ho! And that’s the down payment? Don’t sound too bad to me!” I remarked, eyeing Vilkas. He flung me a dirty look. Do not take her side, it said. Farkas kept quiet.

  “She insists on hiring a group. That down payment isn’t much if you split it so many ways.” Vilkas turned to the woman again. “You told us the rest of your money is in Morrowind. What’s it going to take for us to get it? I don’t like jumping through hoops.”

  “The transaction wouldn’t be difficult,” the Dark Elf insisted. “I give you a signed missive and my estate will comply with it. They’ll send you your payment with a secure transport.”

  “Why should we believe you have an estate?” Njada snapped. “Or that it’s as wealthy as you say?”

  The woman rubbed her temple. “We can argue back and forth till the sun sets. The terms of my request will not change. If you’re so worried about making a profit, I’m sure you could sell some of the creature’s remains…”

  “Remains?” I said, puzzled. “What are we hunting?”

  “She wants us to kill a dragon,” Vilkas replied.

  She wants us to…

  I stared at the woman.

  “A dragon,” I repeated, trying to contain myself. “You know where to find a dragon?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I am conducting research into the dragons and need a specimen to study. Since there’s no hope of capturing one alive, a cadaver will have to suffice. But I can’t do this alone.”

  “You’re sure you know its location?” Vilkas retorted. “Plenty of people like to cry dragon these days.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes. I know where it will be.”

  “You know where it might be. Dragons can fly. Or did you not know that? What happens if we cannot find it?”

  “That is risk we must take.”

  “Another dragon could come to Whiterun and attack while we’re gone. Have you considered that risk? There are people in this town who look to us for protection. You need to convince me more that this dragon hunt is worth our time.”

  The mage looked pensive. Worried.

  “I… I don’t know how I could convince you any more,” she said.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Vilkas replied.

  The Companions were turning down the chance to kill a dragon. I was hearing that right. It felt like my blood was boiling hot enough to bubble out of my ears. Even if the woman wasn’t being honest and the whole thing turned out to be a fluke, would that be our fault?

  Is this what the honor of the Companions has come to? ‘We’ll do it when it suits us?’         

  Ysmir’s beard, I’d heard enough.

  “Bah! Forget these cowards,” I barked. “I’ll take the job!”

  There were groans of embarrassment.

  “Here we go…” Vilkas grumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” the mage said to me, raising her hand. “You are…?”        

  “Reinhardt,” I said with a confident smirk. “Just call me Reinhardt.”

  “Yes, Reinhardt… I certainly appreciate your willingness, but…”

  “But what? You came looking for warriors, aye?” I thumped a fist against my chest. “Here’s one right in front of you!”

  The woman hesitated, brushing a wisp of dark hair from her face. “You seem much more… excitable than the others.”

  “She wants to hunt a dragon, in case you didn’t hear her,” a new voice spoke from behind. It was Aela. She walked up beside me. “Not the wisest choice of prey for a new blood.”

  The Dark Elf made a silent ah-h-h. “So you are new among this group?” she said to me.

  I winced. “Do I look like a fresh young lad to you? I know my way around a sword.”

  “Like you told us you knew how to work wonders with wood?” Vilkas muttered, eyes flipping up toward the ceiling. It was my turn to toss him a dirty look.

  I tell you, with ‘companions’ like these…

  Now that I think of it, though, I was a little drunk when I mentioned that bit about me being a carpenter’s aid. I might have, uh, exaggerated some things.

  “Please, enough of this,” the Dark Elf said. “I need a group of warriors at my side, not a single man.”

  I stepped forward with a sneer.

  “Then forget this rabble. We’ll find better warriors somewhere else. Just let me know where we’re searching next.”

  That stirred some folks the wrong way. The woman frowned.

  “There will be no ‘we’ in this search, I’m afraid,” she stressed.

  “Sure there will,” I said. “You and me. I go where you go. That’s how this works.”

  “For goodness sake, I haven’t even agreed to pay you!”

  I bellowed a hardy laugh.                              

  “Pay me? What are you talking about? You can’t pay me! I’m volunteering!”

  “What!?” The mage gripped her staff with both hands. “That’s outrageous! Your bravado does you no credit!”

  I strode up to the Dark Elf. I was a foot taller than her, and I used that to good effect.     

  “You think I’m crazy? You think I’m being bold to compensate for something?”  My eyes narrowed. “You listen here, lady. My family died to a dragon in Helgen. I should’ve been home fighting with them, but I was off in Cyrodiil keeping all nice and cozy. That sick truth has been sitting in my stomach for too long. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I know what’s in this for me. It’s got nothing to do with money or honor.”

  I took a step back, fists clenched.                                                           

  “I want blood. Dragon blood. You bring me with you on your hunt and I swear on my father’s grave I’ll fight to the end.”

  Hushed silence. Not even a peep from Vilkas. I don’t usually like to gloat, but damn that felt good! I wish I could have moments like that all the time.

  “Very well,” the Dark Elf said quietly, clutching her staff. “You’ve made your argument. You are welcome to join me, if it means so much to you.”

  I turned around and met the stares of my fellow Companions, filled with anger. “You’ve all faced a dragon before. You’re telling me the one man who hasn’t is the only willing to fight?”

  “Maybe we’re not as suicidal,” Njada quipped.

  “We weren’t the ones who killed that dragon, you know,” Torvar said somberly.

  “So if the Dragonborn hadn’t shown up, this city would’ve met the same fate as Helgen?”           

  “No,” Vilkas growled. “Whiterun has stood for hundreds of years. This city isn’t weak. None of us are!”

  “Then why aren’t we going?” Farkas suddenly asked.

  “Now there’s the question,” Aela chimed in. “Vilkas, what’s got you so stubborn today? I’m surprised you didn’t take this job the second you heard it. The way you’ve been going on about wanting to fight another dragon, you’re no better than this hot head.” She was talking about me.

  I like to think I’m better than a hot head. But if anyone else had called me that, I would have punched them. Can’t even get on a high horse when you’re in the Companions. Somebody’s always poised to shove you off your seat.

  Vilkas huffed. “I don’t trust this mage.”

  “Suit yourself,” Aela said emotionlessly. “I’ll go where the hunt is.”

  I beamed. “You’re coming with us?”

  “Of course I am, you hot head.” She regarded the mage. “Sorry, but I won’t be volunteering like him. Is your offer still good?”

  The Dark Elf nodded. “It hasn’t gone bad. Eight thousand Septims, as I said. I hope you won’t mind if the payment isn’t strictly Imperial currency.”

  WHAT!? Eight thousand!! She was offering…!?

  …

  You know, I regret a lot of things.

  Farkas looked over at his brother. “I want to go too,” is what he said with his mouth. ‘And you’re coming with me,’ is what he said with his stare. Vilkas groaned. He knew where this was going – he’d been poked and nudged by all the right people. Every stubborn Nord has his weak spots.

  “Alright. The rest of you should say here,” Vilkas muttered to the other Companions. “I don’t want anyone else outside the Circle going on this hunt.” Njada and Torvar resigned. The two brothers walked up to us.

  “You’ve reconsidered?” The mage asked with a smile.

  “I’ll go,” Farkas said.

  Vilkas crossed his arms.

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself four Companions,” he finally declared. “I hope that’s enough for you. So… when do we do this?”

  “We can leave for Mount Anthor tomorrow,” the Dark Elf replied. “I have no need to stay here any longer than you do. I recommend we travel by horse. The journey is not terribly long, but it won’t be pleasant.”

  Mount Anthor? Ysmir, I hadn’t even asked about the where and whens for this job. I’d forgotten to ask a bunch of things…

  “Hey lady,” I said, “you didn’t mention your name, did you?”

  The woman stood a little taller. She seemed happy.

  “I have not told it to you, Reinhardt. My name is Falura. I think I owe you an apology. You've played a part in convincing your comrades to join me, for which I am grateful. I was too quick to write you off as over-eager.”

  “Don’t write him off too soon,” Aela said. “He’s still got plenty of proving to do.”

  “Oh, I know,” I replied with a sly grin.

  Vilkas cleared his throat. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us about this dragon we’re hunting?”

  Falura thought it over for a moment.

  “I need to return to Dragonsreach and retrieve my notes. They will be in your hands by night fall, should you wish to look them over. I would have you all know something for now.” She paused for emphasis. “The dragon we will be hunting – I have seen how it kills its prey. This is a cunning and powerful creature we’re going after, but I believe we can devise a strategy to defeat it. If any of you possess any means that might give us an upper hand in our fight, don’t be silent about them. We will need every advantage we can get.”

  Vilkas and Aela exchanged glances. Farkas kept quiet. I stretched my back.

  “We fight the dragon on our terms,” I spoke with gleeful menace. “Sounds good to me.”

  After a few final questions from the group, we went our separate ways to prepare for the night. I couldn’t shake off the excitement! Sure it was terrifying, but that’s the best kind of excitement. The kind that reminds you you’re mortal. That there are no second chances. Only the strong survive.

  This hunt promised a test of strength like no other.

  This was gonna be good!

   

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