Time for an adventure! Jerric has been carrying around some Elven armor and a fur cloak just in case, so she immediately geared up for the road.
But first they have a job on the other side of Morthal.
How do you get that many characters to fit in one dungeon? I would hate to see all the traps constantly going off again and again. 
Sir Magul gro-Bash, Knight of the Circle in the Order of Arkay. Sir Magul is blessed by the Atronach just like in Oblivon (+150 magicka, zero magicka regeneration, and 50% spell absorbtion). He will never use an enchantment that gives a magicka regen bonus because that would be boring. He needs a big weakness to balance the huge magicka pool. We’re just pretending it wouldn’t work for him.
He needs to learn to sharpen that sword up if he expects to get some use out of it! 
I am a little concerned about staying with the unimproved silver sword for Sir Mags, but it will make me put perks in the first tier of the skills that I tend to ignore when I use smithing. That’s how Big D has evolved, with a low armor rating but lots of power in his attacks and Berserker Rage to save his butt. Of course he doesn’t have the stunted magicka to deal with. It does make for an intense playing experience. And sometimes a brief one, lol.
She returned in the small hours after the moons had set. None of the Skaal kept watch with me. Too full of their grief to bother with an old man’s hope, I suppose. It was out of their hands and so out of their minds. I have no blame for them.
Starlight on the snow made it easy to read her. There was no madness in her eyes, but no lightness either. Just a hollow look like she didn’t really see me. “It’s done,” was all she said.
I took her to Thirsk. Thought the fires and the noise and all of their stink might reach her, but she lay like a stone in my arms for a day and another night. Not sleeping. Not speaking. She’d healed her wounds before she came back. I could see the scars like burns on her already fading.
Then the morning light came in and she turned and ran her nails through my beard in that way she has that makes me stand up like a Dwarven centurion. Only after all of that time in the bed I needed to take the longest piss of my life. Given what she’d just been through, I didn’t see fit to mention my troubles of the moment.
“We need to go back to Skyrim,” she told me. “Remember that giant who called himself the Ebony Warrior? I’m going to find his Last Vigil, and one of us is going to give the other peace.”
“All right,” I said, because this is a woman that you should just agree with.
“If I forget, will you make sure Bera’s necklace gets delivered to Runil? In Falkreath?”
Well I didn’t know what the hells she was talking about, but I gave her a nod anyway.
Then she got up and found a piss pot which thank the gods is not difficult in a mead hall, and we went back to bed. Now old Hermaeus Mora has the secret knowledge of how many hairs are on this Nords backside, if he’s still watching. I hope he went half blind counting.
After we determined that she hadn’t killed me this time which is always a surprise, I took her face in my hands and told her, “Now and forever, kid. That’s what we both said.” I figured a reminder wouldn’t hurt since she keeps going where I can’t follow.
“I know, Stenvar. That was the last time.”
And that’s when I got my peace. If this Ebony fetcher is the end of her, he’ll be the end of me too.
But first I’d better write a note to put with that damned necklace. Or maybe give it to a courier just in case. That’s something I’d rather not have to hear about in Sovngarde.
That’s hard to do. 
That would be quite a scene! No, I put most of my Grits NPCs out of the way to avoid running into them with the wrong characters since I keep the same mods loaded in all of my games. Most of Jerric’s crew is long dead by Jensa’s time. She already met Jerric face-to-face, but not in Skyrim. 
24 Evening Star, Lakeview Manor, nine bells of the morning watch (one imagines)
The morning post came after breakfast. We had scattered to complete what I supposed was each person’s final tasks before setting off for Whiterun. I was in the upper chambers adjusting my pack when the courier found me.
He is a local lad called “Jaako the Post.” I expect it is because he carries the mail, but he is not overly bright so the moniker may hold a dual meaning. It is not the custom in Skyrim to wander through a household when delivering mail any more than it is in the more settled parts of the Empire. Hand-to-hand service is unique to our Jaako.
Among the bills (reserved for Darnand), advertisements (consigned to the fire), and seasonal greetings (tucked into my pack to share when we had gathered again), I found a mead-stained, rumpled, and coarsely-lettered missive for Jerric.
Of course I was curious. But I brought it to him unopened anyway.
He was in the kitchen armed and armored and occupied with some sort of cookery.
“Read it to me,” he said, sliding something into the oven.
I did not protest.
“ ‘Old man,’ ” I read aloud, “ ‘Come get me at The Frozen Hearth. Bring gold. Don’t tell Abiene about, you know.’ ”
Jerric’s eyebrows attempted to escape his face. “I have no idea what she means,” he lied.
If I had remained silent no doubt a series of confessions would have emerged, but it is the Eve of Saturalia and I was feeling magnanimous. Also somewhat pushed for time.
“It’s from Valdi,” I told him.
“Yeah, I guessed.” He leaned on the oven peel and scratched his beard. “I took care of those skeevers in the basement,” he added.
At this I noted his attire and weapons. A concern began to form in my mind about the contents of his baked goods. But I was not distracted.
“We decided to celebrate Saturalia at Breezehome,” I reminded him. “I took a shift at the Temple of Kynareth tonight. So that the priestesses can be home with their children. We talked about this! We’re leaving within the hour.”
Jerric examined the ceiling and then the floor. “Uh, yeah, I know. I’m, uh, packed.” He checked the sword on his hip and hooked a thumb at his back, indicating the oversized blade there. “I didn’t forget,” he lied again.
Honestly, why does he bother? “Good,” I told him, slapping the note against his chestplate. “I’m nearly ready to go. I suppose we’ll go straight to Winterhold after Whiterun. On the way you can tell me what she’s gotten herself into this time. Have you seen..?”
Lildereth chose that moment to appear in the greenhouse doorway, cloaked and armed for the road. Darnand cleared his throat in the main hall.
Jerric looked far too pleased with himself. “We’re all ready,” he grinned. I could hear Ulfe scratch to go out.
It would have been uncharitable to point out that he had just started cooking. Besides, then we might have had to eat it. I changed into my walking clothes, and we headed out the door.
25 Evening Star, Breezehome, nearly mid-night
Saturalia! Oh, what a day. My night shift at the temple passed quickly as I was able to sleep through most of it. What little healing was needed I have noted in the temple record. When Danica relieved me I found myself walking back to the Plains District with fresh snow crunching under my feet. It had snowed over night! A white day in Whiterun. The sun was strong and the wind was weak, so I hardly needed my hood.
Knowing Jerric’s capacity for drink and our dear friends’ propensity for indulging him, I expected that the early morning had passed unnoticed as they slept one off. Hopefully last night someone remembered to leave the door cracked for Ulfe. Imagining tender heads and uneasy stomachs, I stopped at the seasonal bakery stand outside the main gate to pick up some breakfast treats before I returned to Breezehome.
The vendor had a variety of holiday offerings, including a quilted robe that I bought for Jerric and some silly hats that will take a powerful charm spell to get anyone to wear. But of course I bought them anyway, along with all of the star pies, eggnog, cocoa, and cookies that she had on her cart. That completely emptied my pockets of gold. It’s a good thing Darnand has the charge of my purse as well as our Nord’s.
Ulfe nearly bowled me over when I opened the door, but the snow all over the floor told me that she had already made at least one trip outdoors. Jerric stood by the fire tending only the gods know what in the cookpot. If there is a single sad old leek or potato in the bottom of any barrel, Jerric will find it and turn it into soup.
He lifted his chin at the ceiling without speaking, leading me to believe that Lildereth and Darnand still slept above. Then he took my packages and cloak and kissed me like it was the old days before everything got so complicated.
“Happy Saturalia,” we whispered to each other.
Then Ulfe charged back in and shook snow all over us, and while I was trying not to step in the fire I noticed something.
“There is a tree in here! Mother Mara, how did you get Lildereth to agree to that?”
Jerric lifted up the lower branches. The tree sat upon its entire root ball, completely packed with dirt. It must have weighed… Well, with a Nord and two mages drinking the night away, I suppose it doesn’t matter how much it weighed.
“I’m going to put it back tomorrow morning,” Jerric said. “Olfrid will never miss it.”
“You stole a tree from the Battle-Born’s garden?!” I had to laugh.
“We borrowed it,” he started, but then Lildereth and Darnand came downstairs just as Ulfe knocked the tree over.
Restorative spells were administered to the lightweights, sweets and potato soup were consumed with relish, and our gift exchange lasted almost a full minute as none of us not even Darnand attempted to contain our enthusiasm in the slightest. The morning passed too quickly.
I wanted to view the decorations at Dragonsreach, so I washed and dressed for a day out in the city. The men had no interest, and I didn’t try to coax them. Saturalia opens that great, empty place in Jerric’s heart that all of his family once filled. I left him Darnand’s quiet company, trusting in that bond between those who call themselves brothers.
Lildereth looked lovely in the green cape I made for her. The Jarl’s children are insufferable brats and his Housecarl looked like she might run us through with her sword, but we lingered in the great hall drinking free wine as long as we wanted to. It was warm and the Nords’ way of speaking amuses both of us.
Particularly the Jarl’s brother. ‘I'm not a man, I’m a weapon in human form. Just unsheathe me, and point me at the enemy.’ We had to go when Lildereth started to giggle.
Now that I think of it, he may have been… hitting on a Bosmer and a Breton? Surely not.
Anyway we found the men dressed for the evening out, but Jerric was drinking alone in the alchemy room. When he finally emerged to sit idle by the fire, it fell to me to assess his condition. At least that’s what I gathered by Lildereth and Darnand huddling together where he couldn’t see them. I couldn’t blame them. When a dark mood takes Jerric, he sometimes breaks things until he ends up in prison.
“I’m going out,” I told him, and simply walked out the door. Thankfully he followed me. On the front steps we had a brief meeting to decide our destination. The Bannered Mare won with no real discussion. The Drunken Huntsman has wood elves, but the Bannered Mare has a bard.
Once inside the Bannered Mare Lildereth and I quickly consulted as we realized our mistake. The Nordic offerings of glogg, grog, nog, and more glogg would have us taking turns holding each other’s hair as we filled the many buckets that stand ready for that purpose about the establishment. She pressed a few coins into my hand and I hastened to the bar.
There was a very handsome Breton sitting there, and he spoke as Hulda handed me our drinks. “Say, you look like someone who can hold their liquor.”
I glanced behind me so that I wouldn’t hit whoever he was speaking to when I turned with my tray, but he was addressing me.
“How about a friendly contest to win a staff?” he persisted.
I could easily imagine the scene after many drinks when he unveiled his ‘staff.’ Perhaps he got that line from the Jarl’s brother.
“No thank you,” I said, “I have one already. But good evening, and good luck with your contest!”
It’s a good thing it was I who fetched the first round. I warned Lildereth and we managed to keep Jerric away from the bar. There’s no telling where we would have ended up if he started drinking with a stranger.
I would rather not win that either! 26 Evening Star, outside the ancient Dwemer Ruin of Alftand, full dark
We did not achieve an early start. First I stopped to listen to some street singers as is only polite, and then while we waited for Jerric to put a final polish on his blades a young woman greeted me right by the gate.
She seemed sad. As is my habit I immediately acquainted myself with her business, resulting in a promise to personally carry a letter to her love who is stationed somewhere in The Pale.
I am reasonably sure that The Pale is in Skyrim, probably to the north of our present position. And we’re heading north to disentangle Valdi from whatever she has gotten herself into this time. So I’m sure no one will mind if we make a side trip once we gather Valdi into our fold. I mean, how many encampments can there be in one Hold? I am certain that we will find him. Perhaps he is staying somewhere warm.
I shall wait until later to bring up the subject, however. Perhaps when everyone has a full belly and sleepy eyes.
Anyway it took us so long to emerge from the city gate that we found Flash had come up from the stable in search of us. Flash is getting on in years, but he still follows Jerric around like a dog. He does not even require a lead. And he has the good sense to rapidly remove himself from conflicts, which is likely along with Jerric’s tender care the foundation of his longevity.
Dear Ulfe could learn a lot from Flash. She tends to follow directly behind me. The others take it as a sign of her protective nature. However as I use Wards and healing spells when scuffles occur Ulfe has never been accidentally shot, stabbed, slashed, shocked, scorched, shield-bashed, or ice-spiked by my hands. I interpret her close company as a sign that she is wary. However she will jump into the fray. I would rather she scamper off after our pack horse to return when the conflicts have been resolved.
With the road’s dangers thus in the front of my mind I took the opportunity to bring Flash up to his finest condition before we started out.
The sky remained clear all the way to the Loreius Farm. There we discovered two things. One, The Pale is indeed directly in our path! Also we met a man who was in need of assistance with a wagon wheel. Sorting out his troubles was a simple matter. Surely such a good deed as helping a simple jester and his mother will be returned to Farmer Loreius many times over. Though I confess I was taken aback at the little man’s spontaneous dance of appreciation.
Jerric had determined to take us to Winterhold directly through Wayward Pass, so we made only the briefest of comfort stops at the Nightgate Inn before continuing north. The sky remained clear, but the wind was fierce. I was the first to don my fur hood. The others followed suit, save Jerric. I dare say he would describe windburn as Kyne’s kisses upon our cheeks and noses. A Nord might proudly bear such a token of Her affection, but a healer keeps her skin smooth if only as evidence of her prowess.
A healer also keeps her friends’ skin smooth. Lildereth and I shared many a secret handclasp on the way through that twice-darned pass so that I might also ease her discomfort. Thankfully our furs and enchantments kept us from real danger.
Upon cresting the ridge the Sea of Ghosts lay before us, crystal blue and glorious under the westering sun. Once I managed to brush the frozen tears from my lashes, I noticed a closer and surprisingly familiar sight. Ria and Vilkas of the Companions had just slain a snowy sabre cat a short distance away on the ice fields! We spoke for a moment, at least long enough for me to visually determine that neither of them had received injury. Though the hour was late enough to suggest sharing a camp, the two Companions made their way back through the pass and one assumes on about their business.
Upon rejoining our group I found Darnand and Jerric engaged in a tense exchange of glares. We stood at the edge of a partially buried Dwemer ruin. I could see the debris of more recent camps surrounding what could only be an entrance ramp. Lildereth looked ready to run up into the rocks. I know it was not she who had suggested a quick peek into an obvious death trap.
I pulled my furs tight against the wind and spoke up.
“This looks like a lovely place to stop for the night. I see cut lumber from those collapsed cabins we can use for our tent supports, and I shall roll a few of those chopping blocks over here to use as seats. Come, let’s get started. I shall feel safer if we have a fire going before it gets dark.”
And so we made camp and also managed to avoid death by ghost, automaton, trap, or any mundane disaster inside the Dwemer ruin of Alftand.
Oh, I should note that I questioned Darnand as he annotated his map. We have passed quite out of The Pale and are now in the central portion of Winterhold.
A man who loves horses is a keeper, Abiene.
27 Evening Star, the College of Winterhold, ten bells of the evening watch
Valdi is once again within our loving circle. Though I would not expect her to describe us in that manner, given her present mood.
We greeted the dawn on the glaciers within sight of Azura’s famous statue. Darnand informed us of its origin, and we were narrowly spared the climb to view up its skirt as his discourse took an alarming turn from iconography toward engineering.
A second close call with adventure occurred when we girls sought a moment of privacy behind some odd tent-thing and most certainly discovered Darnand’s Sightless Pit. Lildereth and I quickly agree that we would mention our discovery at some later date, preferably snug indoors and nowhere near the pit itself. Darnand travels to Winterhold with some frequency, and I am certain that both he and Jerric will leap into that reeking crevice at their earliest convenience. Thank Stendarr it was not today.
We turned onto the road as a light snow began to fall. The College of Winterhold is a stirring sight to behold. Even as one marvels at its austere beauty, the thought of all those thousands lost in the city’s collapse chills the soul. I examined Jerric’s face for signs of melancholy. He gave me a saucy wink. I’m sure the prospect of delivering justice to whoever has caused Valdi distress has lifted his spirits. It is my speculation that Valdi is not innocent in the matter. Time will tell.
The Frozen Hearth does not look any more welcoming than it sounds, but the proprietors embody the best of Nordic hospitality. I was more than ready to quit the grim streets of ruined Winterhold for the warmth that awaited inside. While Jerric put Flash at ease I bolted for the tavern door.
Inside I met with a daunting sight.
Young Valdi is six feet of Nordic womanhood in all of its strength and accompanying attitude. Plus, teenager. Even though she had somehow lost her armor, she still had me at a psychological disadvantage. I decided to reserve my questioning for later. Thankfully she retained ownership of her Ma’s axe. I should not like to see the discussion that would have resulted if Jerric found her unarmed.
As it was there was quite an uproar as Valdi and Jerric debated whether to win back her gear with a dice game, fight the entire Hold for it, or stage a drinking contest. Meanwhile Darnand quietly paid off the bartender.
Once Valdi got dressed I took a moment to sit her down and ascertain that she had not picked up any diseases and had indeed been using adequate birth control. It’s true what my mother once said. With a lad you only have one wayward member to worry about. With a lass you worry about all of them.
Valdi lead the way out the door, of course refusing to put on her fur cloak despite the weather. As we left the inn I heard Lildereth say to Jerric, “Are you sure she’s not your real daughter?”
Jerric shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Remember, her ma didn’t have a head when we met her.”
We made our way up to the College, marveling at the magical lights on display. Valdi stayed with us though she has no collegiate affiliation. She is a pupil of mine in the school of Restoration. I’m certain she would have liked to knock some mages’ hoods off with a demonstration of her Sun spells, but her presence in our party was not questioned.
Nor was Flash’s presence among us. To my shock he followed us over that terrifying bridge and all the way into the courtyard! There Jerric suddenly must have remembered a book he had borrowed, for he produced one on the spot and began to read it standing there in the snow. How I adore him.
Tonight we sleep on silken sheets and feather pillows in the Hall of Countenance, each of us given their own chamber. Of course Jerric fell asleep with Ulfe on Darnand’s bed while telling stories, Lildereth is curled up on my pillows, and Valdi is stalking the corridor no doubt intending to slip over to the student’s hall and get better acquainted.
At least that’s what I’d do. That young Nord looks like he has a solid frame under his robe, and what I know about J’zargo should not be trusted to these pages. I hope she has a wonderful evening.
Plus even though she was very cautious gathering alchemy ingredients within sight of the Bulwark, every time she went to sleep she woke up who knows where and running for her life! I can’t believe she ever made it back to Raven Rock. My Dunmer guys use mostly vanilla files, since I didn’t like how the mods made them smooth. 
I love him too but to be honest I've become a bit disconnected from him. He's a super-hero doing many super things, but part of me can't wait to move on to PC & mods. :drool: 
OHMYGOSHWHATISIT?! That looks awesome. Sea giants! Woo!29 Evening Star, Dawnstar, the hour is too late to contemplate
Oh, I am weary. And it is entirely my fault.
At first Jerric determined for us to reach Dawnstar by following a route along the edge of the Sea of Ghosts. Lildereth did not seem alarmed by the prospect, so I kept my reservations to myself. After all we have Flash carrying our packs, and Jerric would never willingly endanger his horse.
However within the first moments of walking in the wilderness we met a gruesome but sadly not unusual sight. The poor man had not been dead long, but there was no sign of whatever might have killed him. We placed him in the rocks with as much ceremony as we could manage.
Then Jerric brushed his palms together and announced, “We’re taking the road.”
Snow, snow, and more snow. I kept my head down and trudged forward, keeping an eye out for an opportune moment when Darnand would either stop to pick plant material or produce his map.
It didn’t happen until we reached the junction outside Dawnstar. We paused for Darnand’s customary crossroads map check, and I confessed that I carried a message that must be delivered to a lovelorn soldier stationed very near us in The Pale.
Jerric looked as cross as I’ve ever seen him. He pointed one finger at the rooftops of Dawnstar just visible through the snow and stated, “Very near.” Then he made a large gesture with both arms possibly indicating all of creation and said, “The Pale.”
I took that to mean it would not be easy to find the soldier.
But find him we did, and of course I agreed to carry a reply back to his love in Whiterun. By then Jerric had killed three bandits, a would-be thief, and a frost troll, so he was in much better spirits.
We made it back to Dawnstar before dark, though once inside the Windpeak Inn I began to long for our solitary Winterhold camp out on the ice. The Windpeak boasts the best bard in Dawnstar. I will provide full disclosure and declare that she is the only bard in Dawnstar. She can certainly make herself heard over the noise of the crowd.
I have consumed a reckless amount of Snowberry Brandy, and I can still hear her. Even over Ulfe’s dream-yelping and Jerric’s snores. It does not help matters that this inn lacks interior doors. Dibella preserve me. Perhaps I will pass out soon.