Hm... Apronia's story still doesn't quite add up. All that clothing tearing is just a bit hard to swallow when you look at it objectively, but I guess if she has a werewolf wound there actually was one there that wasn't her. We also still don't know why she's going to bed so early. Most interesting. And what is the deal with the Fryse Hags? Erg!

Chapter 17. Blodskaal



Heeding the words of Korst, the shaman, I strode across the village to the Great Hall. I entered and approached the chieftain.

"Greetings, Rashelle the outlander. I am glad you have returned."

"Good afternoon to you, chieftain. May I speak to you of the werewolves now?"

"You have performed the two tests that I have given you. You have done an amazing job. To be quite frank, I expected the All-Maker to strike you down when you attempted the Ritual Of The Stones. Traditionally, an outlander may not do this."

"You thought to send me to my death."

"But you did not die."

"But I could have."

"Life is hard. Every day is a test, a test that one may not live through. That which does not kill you makes you stronger. You should feel honored that I gave you a task worthy of a real Skaal warrior."

I was beginning to dislike this man. I think that this feeling first started when he insisted that I chose Rigmor's sentence. He had let Engar select his own fate, yet had forced me to choose for Rigmor. My dislike had now been increased by the realization that the chieftain had sent me on a task that he believed would be fatal.

There was nothing to do, save to press on as diplomatically as I could.

"Mighty chieftain, since we last spoke, there have been two werewolf attacks on the Raven Rock colony. May we now speak of this?"

"You are still not yet of the Skaal. You must perform one more test."

And risk death again. Still, I was of tougher stuff than these people realized.

"Tell me what to do."

Now, please.

"I have no task for you at this time, yet there must be three."

"Pardon?"

"There must be three tests. It is a good number. Two is not enough."

I waited.

"Go. I will have a third Test for you to perform, but not now."

"When?"

"Later!" he snapped.

I left before I could say the wrong thing.

I strode away from the Skaal village, too angry to remain. My feet took me south. I was attacked by a patrol of rieklings. I felt a little calmer after I had fought them.

A bear and a snow wolf later, I was once again stepping onto the cool grey ice of Lake Fjalding. I was no closer to finding the cause of the werewolf attacks. Things were now stalled, waiting on the whim of the Skaal chieftain.

"Oh Rashelle, now what do you do?" I said to myself as I rubbed a horker's belly.

The adorable creature groaned happily and lazily waved a flipper. I hugged the horker and pressed my cheek against its fur. It groaned happily. A flipper patted my head, almost tenderly. Awww.

"I love you, horker."

Suddenly, the horker pushed me away. I was thrown back, landing in a sitting position on the ice. The horker moved away from me, with its odd gait, towards the land. It was the fastest I'd ever seen one move. Why had my friend left me?

I looked around and saw that other horkers were also moving at a great speed, each one heading towards the land. I could see that they were in great fear, but of what? I stood up: something bad was happening. I slowly turned around. On all sides, horkers had fled the lake. I was standing on the ice, alone.

The ice beneath me began to vibrate. One horker on the shore turned to me and waved a flipper, almost as if it were imploring me to leave the lake. I shook my head. The horker turned and scooted away. It disappeared into the distance.

I readied my Recall spell but did not cast. Curiosity had me in its grip: I wanted to see what would happen next. The vibration under my feet continued. I waited. It grew in strength.

Roughly a hundred feet in front of me, a section of ice shattered, forming a hole roughly 20 feet across. In this hole, the water was bubbling.

I waited.

In another minute, a yellow glow formed in the hole. From it rose ... fire. Flames rose from the hole, reaching approximately 20 feet in height.

I blinked. What in Oblivion was going on?

Behind me, I heard approaching footsteps. I sensed that they were not hostile so I did not draw my weapon as I turned around. It was Korst Wind-Eye. His Seer ability had must have prompted him to start walking here some time before the flames had appeared.

"Lass, this is a bad thing."

"I'd guessed that, but what is it?"

"Something bad is coming. Something has gone wrong. You have restored the balance, but something is still not right. There have been werewolf attacks, the beast at Thirsk and now this."

"What do we do?" I said.

"This must be Aesliip," he muttered.

"Korst, what is Aesliip?"

"He was ... is ... a necromancer. Like others of his sort, he craved power and eternal life. he made himself into a draugr so that he could continue his life, if life you call that."

I remained silent.

"That was centuries ago, but each shaman has passed the warning down to the next. Aesliip fled to a cave under the lake, but it was always known that someday he would come back. Now he has, or is about to."

"All this you know just from a flame?"

"Fire on the lake was prophesied as a sign of the Draugr Lord Aesliip's re-emergence."

"I see."

"Rashelle, the chieftain has not given you a third test and of course he insists on a third test ... am I right?"

I nodded.

"This will be your third test. If you live, I will speak to him."

"If." I admired his honesty.

"Yes, 'if'. Aesliip is a draugr lord, more powerful than a regular draugr. Go down and find his cave. The entrance is on the lake bottom. I expect that it is centered below the fire. Go to Aesliip and slay him. Return to me here once you have accomplished this."

"Could you hold my books for me? I don't want them to get wet."

"Of course, lass."

I removed the books from my pack and gave them to him.

I could see no other holes nearby, so I walked towards the large opening under the flames.

Upon reaching the hole, I noticed that the heat was not as bad as expected. Despite this, I took the precaution of quaffing a healing potion before diving in. My potions last a good half-minute so I can take one ahead of time to attain healing during a damaging activity.

The water was still cold, even though it was bubbling. I rapidly descended through a turbulent column of water. The entrance to the cave was where the shaman had predicted it would be. I entered.

The cave went down, sideways, then up again. I emerged from the water, relieved that I had not needed to cast a water breathing spell. I was now in an ice cave. The cave was stuffy; most likely this air had been here for centuries. Since undead did not need to breath, I imagine this had not been a concern for the draugr.

I drew Chrysamere and strode forward.

A bone wolf rushed towards me. I absently chopped it to bits as I walked. Two draugr set up on me. With greater effort, I dispatched them and continued. I wandered though the ice caves for a time, fighting more undead, until I found a narrower passage. I carefully crept though this.

The passage turned and entered into a larger chamber in the ice.

A draugr stood there. Some intuition made me hesitate. The draugr was looking at me but did not attack: he remained motionless.

"Outlander," the draugr croaked in a voice that suggested air whispering through cobwebs in a tomb.

I raised an eyebrow. Never had a draugr spoken a word before this.

"I caused the fire out on the lake as a signal. I need help. I am Aesliip and was once a mage amongst the Skaal."

I was silent.

"When I was alive, I discovered an invasion of some powerful frost daedra. They would have ravaged the village, and all of Solstheim. They had already managed to enter this plane so I created a magical barrier to stop them, to contain them within this system of ice caves. The problem was, I had no help. I could not dispatch them on my own. Also, I was old, my life was nearing its end. Had I died, who would have kept the barrier going?"

I waited.

"I turned myself into a draugr lord, so that I could continue to maintain the barrier. I had to protect my people and this was the only way."

I remained silent.

"Of course, they did not understand. They banished me. I fled to this cave, close to the barrier. I have protected the Skaal for all of these years. The frost daedra still press against my barrier. They have not given up. They are waiting for my death."

I remained silent. My eyes sternly commanded the draugr to continue.

"I need your help. We can fight the daedra invaders. We can kill them and thus send them back to their plane. Alone, I was not able to do this. Together, I think we can."

I finally spoke: "Why should I trust you?"

"You must! We must fight them together, now. If you slay me, the barrier will come down and you will fight them alone."

"Answer me one question truthfully," I said as I approached the draugr.

He nodded.

"I have seen other draugr eat human flesh. Have you done so?"

I readied my sword.

"No."

I glared at him,

"I am not a draugr in the usual way. I become so deliberately, by act of will and through many spells. I do not have the .... urges ... of regular draugr. I have not committed that disgusting act."

I believed him. I've been fooled before, but usually I can judge a persons character and detect a lie. I lowered my sword, though I did not sheath it.

"I will take you to the barrier," he said. "The daedra are in this plane, confined to a section of these caverns. They are dire frost atronachs. We will go to the barrier. I will lower it. We will go in and fight them. Every one of them must be slain."

I nodded.

He led, walking in that odd gait that draugr seem to have. I followed. We reached a glowing wall of light.

"This is the barrier."

"I am ready."

"I sense you are a spell-caster. be careful with the fire spells. They affect me severely."

"I know. I will aim with care."

He gestured and the wall of light disappeared.

We ran forward, into the tunnel. Two dire frost atronachs emerged, seemingly out of nowhere, and hurled frost bolts at us. As Aesliip was to my right, I was able to burn the left atronach with a bolt of flame. He roared in pain while his compatriot hit me with a frost spell. I smiled as the icicles on my face shattered and fell away. These daedra didn't know about me and the cold.

I was now close enough to the atronachs to employ my weapon. I thrust my blade into the left atronach as Aesliip tore into the one on my right. Both fell dead.

We pressed on.

A third atronach rounded a corner and darted at me with surprising speed. He smashed a huge icy fist into me. I spun through the air and slammed into the wall. I drank a healing potion and rose to my feet as quickly as I could. Aesliip had thrown himself onto the back of the atronach and was pummeling its head. The daedra roared and spun around, trying to dislodge the draugr lord.

I ran forward and slashed with my claymore. The atronach howled an icy howl. I chopped and ice chips showered on me. I dodged a swing of its arm and again my blade bit into the atronach. With a cracking sound, Aesliip ripped its head off. The dire frost atronach fell forward, almost hitting me.

"Nicely done," hissed Aesliip.

We continued. There were twelve of the daedra in all and, between us, every one was slain.

"We have done it! We have done what I could not do by myself all these centuries. My people are saved!"

I smiled.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"I am Rashelle."

"Rashelle, I thank you for my help. Tell my people; tell them of me, and my sacrifice. I expect that they will not believe you but you must try."

He sat down on the ice floor.

"May they remember me as more than just another undead. I always had their best interests at heart, I did."

His eyes closed and he fell back. I reached out but he suddenly turned into a pile of ashes.

"Now, at last, I can go," seemed to say a voice in the air itself.

I was sad. The poor fellow had given his life, and several centuries beyond, to defend his people, even though they had condemned him.

A faint breeze dispersed some of the ashes, revealing a glint of metal. I reached down and picked it up. It was a ring. I could sense that it had an enchantment on it. I concentrated on the ring: yes, it had an enchantment which somewhat increased both the willpower and the magicka of the wearer. This was a constant effect enchantment, acting continuously as long as one wore the ring: handy for the beginning magic user.

I dropped the ring. It didn't feel right for me to take it.

Slowly I made my way through the caverns to the water. I entered the water, swam though the tunnel to the lake and then upwards to the hole on the surface. As I pulled myself from the water and onto the ice I could see that the flames were gone. Good.

During my adventure, the sun had set. It was now night.

Korst Wind-Eye was a dark form silhouetted against the blue glow of the moonlit ice. I strode across the surface of the lake and approached him.

"I met Aesliip."

He remained silent.

I related Aesliip's story to him.

He narrowed his gaze. "Do you believe him, lass?"

"I think I do. I suppose it doesn't matter, as the daedra invaders are all dead and Aesliip himself is now ashes."

He nodded. "Fair enough. I sense you've a bit of the shaman skill in you: enough to sense truth and falsehood."

He handed me my books. I thanked him.

"Rashelle, go the village. I will meet you there shortly. I want to make sure that things have settled down here at the lake."

I nodded. I was about to leave, when I discerned a figure approaching from the east. It was a Nord woman, holding a burning torch. I waited. As the figure came closer, I recognized her.

"Svenja!"

"Greetings Svenja Snow-Song of Thirsk."

"Good evening to you, Korst Wind-Eye of the Skaal. Hey Rashelle."

I smiled.

"What happened?" she asked. "There was a huge flame on the lake before."

Between the two of us, we explained to her what had occurred.

"So do you think the lake safe now?"

"I think so. Over time, we will know for sure."

"Good to know," said Svenja. "Thank you for your efforts. I have to get back to the construction now."

"Understood, good day, lass."

"Bye, Svenja."

She walked away, heading east. Though I wanted to follow her, I instead turned and walked north, towards the village. Korst remained on the lake.

I trudged onwards. Since I had recently traveled this way, There were not many attacks; just a pack of plague wolves and a berserker. The berserker had been wielding a nice Nordic silver claymore. It was a good weapon and the moonlight glinted prettily off of the blade, but I didn't really need it. I let it fall to the ground and resumed my trek.

I began to ascend the slope to the plateau where lay the Skaal village. It would be pointless to speak to the chieftain until after the shaman returned: I realized that I would be at a loss as to what to do to occupy my time.

I reached the village, to see it being attacked my werewolves. That answered that question.

Drawing Chrysamere, I charged into the village. A Skaal guard was fighting a losing battle against two werewolves so I came to his assistance, swinging my claymore through the skull of one of the beasts.

He then dispatched the second one.

"Thank you lass ... look out!"

I turned to see another creature running towards me: it had just slain a guard. I hit it with a stream of fire. It howled and fell. I rushed towards it. It was rolling in the snow, trying to put the flames out. My blade drew an arc downwards though the air and and his head rolled away. I dodged the blood gushing from the neck and looked around to find the my next opponent.

I could not see any werewolves remaining. I ran in the direction of the Great hall. If this were to follow the pattern of the attack on the fort, they would be in there, looking to kidnap Tharsten Hart-Fang.

I heard someone shout "They've gone into the Great Hall."

Damn.

A guard and I entered the great hall, to be immediately set upon by three werewolves. Fire came to me and I slashed with my sword. As I fought, I could not see the chieftain: was he already gone? The guard and I finished the three werewolves.

I stepped towards the center of the hall. There was no one alive in the room but the guard and myself. The chieftain was gone.

"Where is the chieftain?" asked the guard.

"I expect that he's been teleported away by the werewolves: that is what they did during their attack on the Imperial fort."

"Outlander, let us search upstairs."

"OK."

I did not expect to find Tharsten up there but I went along with the guard anyway. We rushed upstairs and, as expected, our search was unsuccessful.

The guard and I went outside to inform the others. I was glad that this guard had gone in with me: otherwise I feared that I would be blamed for the disappearance of their chieftain.

Much to my relief, Korst was there: he had returned from the lake. He mast have either left soon after I had, or perhaps he had moved at a faster pace.

"Rashelle, they tell me that werewolves attacked."

"They did, and the chieftain is gone. This is exactly how it was when they attacked the fort and took the captain."

"Rashelle, this is not good."

I nodded.

"And you have been infected by them!"

I shook my head. I was immune to all diseases ever since I had been "cured" of Corprus.

"Rashelle, you are infected. In three days you will become a werewolf, unless you get cured. If you are going to follow the way of the beast, you must leave the Skaal village and never return."

"Korst, I am immune ..."

"Outlander," he said sternly, "be cured or be gone!"

"OK, wait! Look, I'll cast a cure disease spell. You watch me do it, OK?"

He nodded.

I had not cast this spell in a while but I had not forgotten it. I formed the structure of the spell in my mind, gestured, and the spell was cast. There was a shimmer of light along my hands and around my head.

"Good, Rashelle. It is done. You are cured."

The shaman directed the cleanup of the corpses. As before, the dead werewolves had reverted to human form, leaving naked Nord bodies in the moonlit snow.

Afterward, Korst rounded up everyone but the guards for a meeting in the Great Hall. I stood next to him, by the chieftain's chair. No one seemed to mind.

Korst began the meeting by stating: "Firstly, as is our custom, I will lead until the return of our chieftain."

"Aye."

"Good."

"OK."

I sensed approval.

"Secondly, Rashelle has proven her mettle, her skills, her loyalty, her wisdom and her strength. I name her Blodskaal: outlander yet a blood friend of the Skaal."

I was very surprised when the crowd started to cheer, loudly and with great enthusiasm. I knew that the people here seemed to like me, especially after my judgment of Engar Ice-Mane and of Rigmor Halfhand, but had no idea that it was to this extent!

He raised his hands to signal for silence.

"Rashelle is now one of us. The house that used to belong to Rigmor Halfhand is now hers."

There was more cheering.

"That is all."

The meeting was over: Korst was not one to waste time. I approved.

The werewolves had been surprisingly neat in this attack. A few up-ended tables and some wrecked tableware was the extent of the damage to the inside of the Great Hall. We set the tables to rights, swept up and that was that.

The Skaal had eaten before the attack; once again I did not have dinner with them. I was offered mead but declined: for some reason I was unwilling to try it. Perhaps it was something that Marisa at the fort had said, or maybe it was the odd smell.

For days I had been wanting to speak to the Skaal of the werewolves. Now I could finally do so.

"Korst: werewolves have attacked here. They have already attacked the Fort and the colony. I need to find out who sent them. Have you any ideas?"

"No, lass, I do not. This is a dark day for the Skaal."

I retired to my new house and ate some food from my pack. I spent some time looking through Rigmor's collection of books. He had amassed quite a variety.

As I lay in my bed in my house ... one of two I now owned in Solstheim, I wondered at the werewolves and their kidnaping activities. First the Captain of the Imperials, then the chieftain of the Skaal. Was someone collecting leaders? Perhaps the leader of the Fryse Hags would be "collected" next, if not already.

Two things did not fit this pattern. The attack on Raven Rock had only involved one werewolf and that one had kidnapped Apronia instead of Falco. The attack on Thirsk fit the pattern of targeting the leader, but that had not involved a werewolf. Their chieftain had been killed, not kidnapped.

Was there a leader of the berserkers? If so, had they also been kidnapped?

I forced my mind to other thoughts.

Did I want to be the chieftain of Thirsk? I have to admit that I had grown fond of the place: what a change since my first visit there.

Had the Fryse Hags really stopped attacking me? If so, why?

Why had Apronia come to Raven Rock, anyway?

Focus Rashelle: get some sleep.

Hmm, it certainly appears that Rashelle has a lot of things on her mind; most of which that don't provide any answers.

It also seemed very appropriate for Rashelle to not choose the path of the werewolf given her kind ways. Great update.

Ah, Rashelle finally gets a moment to reflect on the loose ends, and now she can't sleep.

You've been busy.

It's been a good read so far so I'll just add fire to the Apronia discussion. Werewolves do have some form of intelligence. Enough to kidnap Carius for one. So what if she clawed her own side while in Werewolf form? She is smarter than she seemed at first, just listen to her explanation for choosing a Dwemer ruin.

And then there's the question of who mudered the ore thief. It didn't look like a werewolf had anything to do with that. At least, it wasn't the same.

Well based on my experience with that particular quest. The gamer is led to believe that the East Empire Company dude back at Frostmont (Carius?) had the thief killed because he got caught.

So Carius came to Raven's Rock, snuck into the locked house without a key, killed the guy, and then got out again without anyone noticing?

He may have used Invisibilty spells or enchantments, and lock spells... And what do we know about his sneaking and lockpicking skills? For all we know, he might've been a secret master trainer no one was able to access...

Hm, so many questions, yet so litle answers... An interesting theory about the leader kidnapping Rashelle has here. I myself would've never thought about Berserker or Fryse hag leader being kidnapped... But then again, if I was Hircine, would I consider a leader of a group of naked Nord barbarians full of mead a fit prey? nah. Same could be said about the leader of a psychotic order of women with daggers that kill everyone they can.

I'm sure he could certainly hire someone to do something like that. Heck, look at the goons he hires for one of the last missions in the East Empire Company questline. The dude has money to burn.

Heh, money to burn. I would so love to see that being done literally some day. Hmm, lessee. Throw coins, follow up with a large dose of Magickal heat. Result, flaming cloud of gold dust! Choke on it!

But yeah, I bet that Carius just hired another henchman. It kinda makes me wonder why rpg leaders are always better than their goons, even if they only sit behind a desk all day. Hmm, where does he get all those people anyway? I mean, this is Solstheim, not exactly a populated area. Maybe he uses ebay?

xD 'Special offer - an evil mindless minion Nord for only 10 Septims!'

Ok so I´ll just answer these two guys, then I´ll read the newest updates and comment, m´kay?




_Yep....it sounds better, A beast to fear...yeah I´ll go for that, but I fairly meant the same you know!


Ok...so you like a heap of stiffies better then??? Well I don´t know...maybe the corpses will be eaten by...something???

Yes, a heap of corpses somewhere no one can see them is much more pleasant than having them strewn all over the court yard. Also, if it's cold enough the corpses will be preserved. I've been wondering though why no one has tried to ditermine anything from the corpses of the nords. We don't even know their genders. What if they were all women, Fryse Hag connection there huh?

Dude's name is Carnius Magius (notice the 'n'). Whereas the kidnapped legion captain is Falx Carius (no 'n').

Just thought that would help clear up some confusion.

Yea, I meant Carnius in my above post. Those two names are waaay to close to being similiar. I didn't bother trying to look up which one was which (I usually refer to Carius as "Falx" anyways) so sorry about causing any confusion.

Gah, Imperials and their alike names... Always cause confusion.

WAIT.

Oh, none Imperials possess the name of Gaius Maximus. Though there is one 'Maximus'... Grr. (Unsheathes Hadhafang from WOTFH mod and goes to execute Jonus Maximus (Or something of the like) in Ebonheart)

(Back after several mintues)

But anyway, yeah. Carnius is the one we're talking about. Been some times since I've played Bloodmoon...

Chapter 18. Chieftain



It was a strange feeling to awaken in Rigmor's house and then realize that it was mine. I had been accepted by the Skaal ... as it had been with the Ashlanders. It seemed wherever I went, people eventually came to like me and to accept me as their own.

It was unfortunate that Korst and the Skaal knew no more about the recent werewolf attacks than I did. In that respect, the days spent gaining the trust of the Skaal had been wasted.

No: not wasted. I had forged a bond of sorts and I had enjoyed myself and had done good things.

There was a knock on the door. I sprung out of bed, sheathed Chrysamere and walked to the door. I opened it and saw a new face: an older Skaal man who I had not met before.

"G-good morning Blodskaal."

"Good morning."

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Lassnr. My son, Tymvaul, has fallen down the well."

We have a problem. Go bother the Breton with the claymore.

Focus Rashelle. Don't be mean: the poor man's son is hurt or, more likely, dead.

"When did this happen?" I said as I stepped out of my house and closed the door.

"Last night."

Why did he wait so long to tell me? I refrained from asking that question.

"None of the villagers would help me. They think that he is dead, but I believe that this well connects to a system of ice caverns. He may be alive, wandering around down there."

He led me me past the well in the middle of village. I slowed.

"No, not that well."

"Oh."

He led me to the western edge of the village, where there was a second well.

"I would have gone myself and searched, but I am too frail to do so. I hope he is still alive. My wife passed away recently. My son is all I have now."

We approached the well. In addition to a peaked roof, there was a wooden circular cover over the opening itself. Nothing could get in or out.

"I've kept it covered since he fell in. I want no one else falling in."

He unfastened the cover. I helped him slide it away.

I looked down and, as expected, saw nothing. If Solstheim had strata of ice in its bedrock, how did one extract liquid water from it?

"Leave the cover off," I directed. "I will meet you at your house."

He nodded.

I cast Levitate, floated up, in and down.

After a time, I felt a breeze and a sensation of space: I had left the well shaft and was in a larger chamber. I cast a Light spell and saw that I was in an ice cave. Below me was a pool of water.

I landed at the edge of the water and canceled my levitation spell.

From a passage in the ice, a skeleton ran towards me, Nordic claymore raised. A single large fireball was sufficient to destroy it. I walked into the passage.

I fought four more skeletons, some of them the berserker variety, and then entered another chamber. In this chamber stood a Nord, only recently grown to manhood, wearing a robe whose enchantment I could feel even at a distance. I wrinkled my nose: the enchantment was foul.

"Intruder! Who dares venture so deeply into the halls of Rimhull?! The Mantle of Woe is mine, do you hear? I have claimed the robe and its power!"

I said nothing.

"Behold the vestments I now wear! When I read the old stories I had to learn the truth. Could it be that an item of such grand magicka lie so close at hand, in the caves beneath my very village? I could contain my eagerness no longer, and jumped into the well. I braved Rimhull's dangers, and at last my efforts were rewarded. Soon the dead shall walk, and Tymvaul the Dark shall lead them!"

So he had not fallen in. The idiot had jumped in. He must have had some healing magicka or a Slow Fall spell. He had sought that robe and had found it.

"No, my fool of father could not possibly understand the powers I possess. It is my destiny to accumulate magical powers and to rule! I will raise an army of undead!"

He threw his head back and laughed: another one for Sheogorath? I pondered this obsession with ruling and power that so many people seemed to have. I did not understand it.

If I had to kill this man, his father would be crushed. I wanted to avoid doing so. This would be difficult: I was sure that the enchantment on the robe was twisting his mind.

"I have been sent by your father. Take off that robe, and end this madness. Your father loves you, Tymvaul, and only wants you to be happy."

"Father? My ... father?"

"Yes. He misses you."

"Could it be that he still holds me dear to his heart?"

He looked uncertain, confused.

"Tymvaul, your father loves you, though I expect he's the sort to not express himself that often. Come back."

"I ... I only wanted to study magic, free from the laws of the Skaal. Necromancy was quick, and easy. The power it offers is so overwhelming."

I waited.

He took the robe off. Under it, he was wearing the normal fur clothing worn by most people in Solstheim. It seemed that I had managed to convince him. Sword still drawn, I approached.

"Here," he said, "take the Mantle of Woe! Destroy it! I will leave Solstheim, I will find a place to study magicka, true magicka. Tell my father his love has saved me. I will return to him some day, when I can truly make him proud."

He bundled the robe into a ball and held it out, towards me.

"Put the robe on the ground and step back."

He did so, looking apprehensively at me.

I cast a bolt of fire at the robe. There was a flash of light as the enchantment was destroyed. Now he could not change his mind.

"Tymvaul," I said, "I am a member of the Mage's Guild. You should join them. They will teach you magic. More importantly, they will tell you how to not be controlled by it."

He nodded.

"Also, it would be better if you were to tell Lassnr this yourself, in person, before you leave. It would put his mind at ease. Let us go to him now."

"Aye, you are right. There is a passage this way that will lead to the surface. I discovered it after I entered this place."

I followed Tymvaul. We emerged through a second opening to the surface. We were on a the side of a steeply sloping hill. Looking down, I saw the ocean. There was a horker swimming in the water, not so far away. I smiled.

We ascended the slope. Upon reaching it I saw some houses of dark wood: some painted in bright colors. Recognition occurred and I realized that I was looking at the north edge of the Skaal village. We re-entered the village and returned to Lassnr's house.

The reunion was joyous. Lassnr now knew that his son was alive and Tymvaul had learned that his father still loved him.

"Father. I must go and learn proper magic. I cannot do so here. I will learn, and I will come back when I have mastered it. You'll be proud of me."

"I already am. Go with my blessing."

My work was done: I turned to leave.

"Rashelle, have you eaten yet?"

I shook my head.

"Join us for breakfast."

"Thank you."

After breakfast, I took my leave of Lassnr and Tymvaul. I strode south from the village. Now that I had ascertained that the Skaal knew no more than I did about the werewolf attacks, there was no urgent reason to remain. I wanted to return to Thirsk and help my friend.

Aside from the usual attacks, my trip to Thirsk was uneventful. I did not encounter any Fryse Hags.

It was a different Thirsk since I had been there last. The area outside of the mead hall had been cleaned up: there were no traces of temporary shelters or of the camp fires: just the two little structures by the main building, one for the Smith and one for ... well, I didn't know what it was for. I would have to ask Svenja some time.

I went inside, to see a mass of people busily working: the reconstruction was in its final stages. Through the people I made my way to Svenja. She pulled me aside and began to speak quietly.

"Rashelle," Svenja said, "The very first chieftain of Thirsk was Hrothmund the Red. He was slain by the great wolf, Ondjage. His bones lie in Hrothmund's Barrow, just northwest of the Moesring Mountains. This mountain range is in the northwest part of Solstheim, where the rieklings are thickest.

"You must enter this tomb and touch the Axe. If the spirit of Hrothmund deems you worthy, he will bless you. We'll know about it here in Thirsk. Do not ask how; we will just know."

I nodded.

"After touching the axe, which cannot be removed from the tomb, return here. You will be our chieftain."

"Svenja, this is not right. You deserve to be the chieftain. You have lived here all of your life. You already run the place. It should be you."

"No Rashelle, you have slain the Udyrfrykte; you shall be the chieftain."

I was about to protest when a thought occurred to me. Werewolves had taken the leader of the Imperials in Solstheim. They had taken the leader of the Skaal. If Svenja were the leader of Thirsk, might they also take her? I would become chieftain, if only to protect her: the werewolves would target me instead. I set my jaw and nodded.

"I cannot tell you much more, Rashelle. save that the the tomb is in the Eye of the Wolf and that you can see this 'wolf' shape from the air. I expect that you know levitation spells so this won't be a problem."

I grinned.

"There is magic in the entrance. You will need to speak a password to get in."

She leaned down and whispered in my ear; her breath tickled. "The name of the wolf, 'Ondjage', is the password."

She drew back, smiled and said, "go now."

I left.

I crossed the lake, only permitting myself to be distracted into playing with the horkers for a few brief moments. With regret, I left my friends and walked northwest.

A few rieklings and a pack of plague wolves later, I reached the house of Graring and his family.

"Greetings, Rashelle."

"Good morning. I was able to use the tool that you gave me."

From my pack I drew the piece of stalhrim from the mine. I held it out to Graring. He took it and inspected it.

"Ah, yes, indeed: this is the stuff. Outlander, you have done well. I feared that you would not return."

I waited.

"Rashelle, my son can make armor from this. My daughter can make weapons. Bring any stalhrim to us and we will make things for you."

Nice.

"Thank you."

"From that piece," said Hidar, "I can make a dagger."

"Anything else will require larger amounts of it," her brother added.

"Understood. I will return when I have more."

Graring handed the stalhrim back to me.

"By your leave," I said, "I will teleport out."

He nodded. I cast Divine Intervention and was returned to the fort. This was contrary to the direction that I wanted to travel for Hrothmund's Barrow, but it was time to update Severia and Gaea.

Severia happened to be walking near the Divine Mark. Perhaps she was on her rounds again.

"Hail Rashelle! How can I help you, my sister-in-arms?"

"I have news, of a sort."

"Walk with me. Tell me."

I walked with her. I as I had expected, she was in the middle of her routine; looking to catch any troopers slacking off or otherwise getting in trouble.

As we walked, I explained to her my recent adventures. I mentioned the werewolf attack in the Skaal village.

"Do you trust the the Skaal, Rashelle?"

"They are strange and have some cruel ways, but I do. They are honest and honorable. I know they are not in league with any werewolves."

"Well, this is good to know, but it is bad in that it leaves us with no leads of any sort."

I nodded. We were now somewhere inside the wall of the fort. We turned a corner of the corridor and beheld a soldier who was seated on the floor, back against the wall of the corridor. He was sound asleep.

"You there!" she barked in that commanding voice that Imperials have, "Is this your duty station?"

He was instantly awake and standing at attention.

I smiled as Severia chewed him out.

"You have latrine duty for a fortnight, starting now! Move!"

The soldier scurried away.

"Severia. I must go. I have a duty to perform for the people at Thirsk."

"Thirsk now? You sure get around."

I smiled.

"Well, thank you for your efforts. And if you happen to stumble onto any new information as to this werewolf problem, you'll contact Gaea or myself?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Good day, Rashelle."

It was snowing when I left the fort. In a short time, the wind picked up and the snow in the air became a solid howling whiteness. I took this as a good omen. I fought some spriggans, some wolves, a bear and a few berserkers as I traveled.

I saw no Fryse Hags.

When I reached water, I knew that the blizzard had caused me to go more east than I had intended. If I were to follow this river, it would lead straight north to Lake Fjalding. My desired path was more towards the west.

Not far from the river, near the west bank, I noticed a cave entrance. Curious as ever, I approached it.

I entered and found myself in a downward-sloping ice passage. Even in the storm, light filtered down through the ice. Ice caves are pretty.

"Hello?" I called.

"Come in," said a woman's voice.

Thus encouraged, I moved ahead. The passage shortly reached a chamber. It reminded me of the beautiful ice chamber of that crazy woman, Kjolver.

This woman looked more sane, though there was sadness in her blue-green eyes. Her hair was brown and cut like Svenja's. She wore no armor.

"Greetings, stranger. I am Kolfinna. Welcome to my home."

"I am Rashelle."

"Are you seeking shelter from the storm? You must be freezing, dressed like that."

I smiled. "No, muthsera; I love it."

She raised an eyebrow and said. "'tis very strange, but I see that you are not shivering at all. There must be some Nord in you."

I nodded.

She said nothing. An awkward silence descended.

"Sera, am I interrupting something?"

"No, it's just ... "

She sighed.

I waited.

"My husband, Gustav Two-Teeth is dead."

"I am sorry."

"He was slain by Sigvatr the Strong, who was his friend. Sigvatr and Gustav were drinking, and Sigvatr ... he ... he slew my husband where he stood! There were witnesses!"

I was silent.

"Rashelle, are your familiar with the concept of a weregild?"

"Oh yes," I said with feeling, recalling my troubled time in Mournhold.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Long story."

"Could you do me a favor, Rashelle?"

"Depends. Tell me what it is."

"I want weregild from Sigvatr. He has a family heirloom, the gem Pinetear. I do not care if you kill him or not, just obtain that jewel for me."

"I will at least speak to him," I said. I felt sorry for this woman but did not have the whole story. I was not going to commit to anything else.

"Fair enough."

She described Sigvatr.

"He can often be found southeast of the Altar of Thrond, close to the banks of the Harstrad River."

I did not know those locations. Further discussion revealed that she referred to an area that was west of Lake Fjalding and southwest of Graring's house.

"Rashelle, are you leaving now?"

"Yes. Are you in danger here?"

"No, but with that storm outside, I thought you might want to stay here for a while."

"I love the snow," I said with a smile. "Blizzards make travel slower but I do enjoy them."

"Oh. Well, good luck then; and thank you. Oh, and watch out for his warhammer. It is an effective and dangerous weapon with a powerful frost spell on it: it can freeze you where you stand. It ... it's what he killed my husband with."

I nodded, turned and walked up the passage.

I emerged into the wonderful whiteness of the storm. Again, I was snow-blind, but I still found it magical. I almost bumped into a frost boar before either one of us noticed the other. The beast tried to gore me and I was forced, once again, to defend myself. Why couldn't these animals be more like the horkers?

The force of the blizzard began to lessen: though it was still snowing, I could see again. I passed the Tree Stone.

A snow bear attacked. The powers of my birth sign diffused its frost enchantment and restored my magicka levels. I continued on and, after fighting a patrol of mounted rieklings, reached a river.

I crossed the river and walked along its west bank. I ran into a group of reavers and had to fight through them. The one archer gave me a tough time, but it helped that my cuirass was protection against any normal arrows.

Later, I was set upon by a pack of wolves. As I began to fight them, a man ran to my assistance. He was a large Nord, dressed in Nordic mail, carrying a big two-handed warhammer. I noticed that it had a frost enchantment. We didn't speak until the wolves had all been dispatched.

"Much obliged, Sera. Thank you."

"I saw a lady in distress and had to assist."

I had not been in distress at all, but the gesture was still appreciated.

He matched Kolfinna's description of Sigvatr.

"Are you Sigvatr the Strong?"

"Aye lass, I am he. I didn't catch your name."

"I am Rashelle. I have been seeking you."

"Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively and smiling.

"Kolfinna sent me. She claims that you have slain her husband. She demands a weregild: the gem stone Pinetear."

The smile left his face.

"He had it coming to him," he said.

I said nothing.

"We were drinking. He pulled a knife on me, I had to defend myself."

I remained silent.

"Well, OK, we had been arguing."

A silent gaze was my only reply.

He looked away. "Damn your eyes! OK. We had been arguing about a stupid thing. But he had a knife out, he could have slit my throat!

I waited.

"Yes! Yes, I killed him! He would have slit my throat! Or so I thought."

I said nothing.

He looked at me and said; "But what if I was wrong? What if I murdered Gustav in cold blood?"

I remained silent.

"My friend ... oh my friend!"

There was a look of horror in his face. I stared mutely.

"Here, take the gem! Give it to Kolfinna, and may it ease her pain. My suffering, my guilt, will never end!"

From his pack he retrieved a gem stone. He held it out to me. Carefully, in case he was going to try anything, I took it.

"Thank you, sera."

I think he may have been sincere in his remorse.

I resumed my travel, continuing northwest despite the fact that Kolfinna's dwelling was a long way southeast.

Soon, I found my way blocked by an incline that was too steep to climb. This had to be one of the Moesring Mountains: I was getting close to my destination.

My choices were to levitate, go left or go right. As it was still snowing, visibility from the air would be bad. I remained on the ground and turned left.

A pack of snow wolves attacked me. With fire and sword I fought through them.

I walked a little ways and found something strange: it was a shipwreck ... at the base of a mountain and far from any water. I saw bodies of the crew on the ground. Two wolves were fighting over one of them, tugging a piece of flesh between them. Fire came to me and both beasts were burned to cinders.

Slowly, I approached the boat. Crates and random pieces of wood and metal had been scattered in the snow. I recognized the characteristic golden color of Dwemer metal: someone had taken a regular ship and had added Dwemer mechanisms to it. The boat had no mast. I do not think that it had broken off: I suspected that the unusual craft had been built to somehow travel without sails.

A Jump spell allowed me to ascend to the deck. I opened the hatch to go below decks, but I could see that there was no room: the entire hull of the ship was packed with Dwemer machinery. Some of the gears were still spinning. I have seen many strange things in my life, but this was one of the strangest.

I closed the hatch and stood up.

The snow continued to silently fall as I walked towards the captain's cabin. I entered the cabin, intending to read the log book. I searched but did not find one.

Once again outside, I jumped to the ground and searched through the scattered crates and then through the bodies.

I found the log book in the snow, near the corpse that the wolves had been fighting over. I carried the book away from that grisly spectacle and Jumped onto the strange ship again.

After settling myself comfortably on the deck, I began to read. I expected that this would be interesting.

The ship's log indicated that this was an "air-ship": it had actually flown through the air by some Dwemer means. They had flown it from Ald'Ruhn to Solstheim.

The expedition had been organized and funded by a Louis Beauchamp, a Breton in Ald'Ruhn. He had not actually been on board. I resolved to call on him the next time I found myself in the area.

What was interesting was that their destination had been Hrothmund's Barrow. They had also heard of the wolf and how it was somehow visible only from the air. This was, in fact, the reason for the expedition's use of a jury rigged Dwemer air-ship: to spot the wolf. They had not been concerned with the axe, but instead with an artifact called the Amulet of Infectious Charm.

The ship had begun to fall apart in flight. They had made it to Solstheim and had reached sight of Hrothmund's Barrow but had then been blown off course, to the south, by a sudden blizzard. The ship crashed and only the captain survived.

He did not survive for long. The last lines of the log were a nearly illegible scrawl, raving about cold and wolves. Most likely he been killed by those snow wolves or had frozen to death. I hoped it had been the latter.

I stowed the book in my pack.

I cast a levitation spell and floated up and north. I rose, following the slope of the mountain.

Soon I reached the height of the peaks. I Leveled off and floated north. Some rieklings spotted me and their visible consternation at being unable to reach me brought a smile to my face.

In a few minutes, I spotted my destination. Many pieces of ice, the largest the height of a man, had been arranged to form a large outline ... a picture of a wolf. I looked to the head, drawn in profile, and could see that there was an obvious cave entrance where the eye would normally be.

I drifted down to the eye entrance and landed. I canceled the levitation spell.

Two snow wolves and a mounted riekling attacked me. I dispatched them and, after pausing to make sure that there were no other nearby hostiles, I turned to inspect the entrance.

It appeared to simply be a wolf fur over an opening in the ice, but I had been warned that it was not so simple. I lifted the fur away to see ... a solid-looking door of ice or possibly stalhrim. I touched the door and a voice sounded in my head, reciting a poem.

I spoke the name that Svenja had whispered in my ear; the name of the wolf that had slain the first chieftain.

"You spoke the truth and won the game, for Ondjage is my given name. You have gained entrance to Hrothmund's Barrow," said the voice. The door opened and I entered.

I walked down a short steep ice passage that led into the dark stone work of a typical Nord barrow. I fought a bone wolf and a draugr. I rounded a corner and was set upon by more undead. I dispatched them and moved deeper. I entered the main burial chamber and cleared the undead from there as well.

This chamber was like many I had seen, including the stalhrim coffin against the far wall. In the center of the room was a short column or pedestal. Embedded in it was a rather large double-edged axe. It had the look of something that was not going to be moved. This had to be the axe that Svenja had mentioned.

I placed a hand upon the handle.

There was no voice, but a sort of tingling went through me and I just knew that I was now the chieftain of Thirsk. I also somehow knew that, right now, Svenja and the others at Thirsk were aware of my success.

"It is done," I hissed. "Come and get me now, werewolves."

I removed my hand from the axe and inspected the tomb. None of the treasure interested me, save for an amulet. As it was the only one in the place, it had to be the one that the expedition had sought.

The appearance of the amulet was unremarkable but the enchantment was of interest for its strength and its oddity. It enhanced one's personality quite a bit but also made one extremely susceptible to disease. It also would induce a tiredness, a fatigue. Infectious charm, indeed ... what would be the point of such an enchantment? I placed it in my pack.

I Recalled to the fort and, once again, left via the north gate.

A spriggan and a bear later, I was again entering the ice cave dwelling of Kolfinna.

"Hello again, Rashelle. Did you find Sigvatr? Did he give you Pinetear"

From my pack I took the gem. I held it out.

"Yes," she said, "That is it. Thank you, Rashelle."

"I believe that he regrets."

She took it and held it up. There was a bitterness in her face. She now had Pinetear but it didn't really make up for the loss of her husband.

"He was a good man, I m-m-miss him so."

I said nothing.

"This means nothing," she said.

She dropped the gem on the floor.

"n-n-nothing."

She fell to her knees and began to cry uncontrollably.

I crouched down and awkwardly put and arm around her, trying to comfort her.

She sobbed, great shuddering sobs that had to hurt. I was reminded of Svenja's reaction to the Udyrfrykte. I wanted to return to her, but I could not leave this poor woman in her present condition.

After a time, she regained some composure.

"I'm sorry Rashelle," she said as she wiped her eyes and sniffled, "It's just ... I loved that man, I did."

I said nothing.

"I'm all right now. If you need to go, go. I'll be OK."

"Come with me," I said, without thinking.

She looked at me questioningly.

"Do you have any children?"

She shook her head.

"Come with me to Thirsk. You are alone here. This is no life for you. In Thirsk you'll be amongst people, many happy people."

"That is true," she said. "This place keeps reminding me of him. Maybe I should leave it all behind and start anew."

"We can go in the morning," I said.

"No, let's go now. I'll take some clothing, my money ..."

She picked up the gem.

"I can sell this."

"Let's wait until the morning," I said softly, "in case you change your mind."

"I don't think I will."

"Let us wait, anyway. It is nearly sunset."

"OK."



In the morning we set off for Thirsk. Though she was leaving her home for good, her pack was not so large. Kolfinna knew how to travel light.

She was not cheerful ... but she was closer to cheerful than I had seen her before.

A spriggan attacked us. I feared that I would have to defend Kolfinna for all of the trip but I had forgotten the important fact that she was a Nord women who lived in the wilderness of Solstheim. Together, we dispatched the creature rapidly.

"Nice work, Kolfinna."

She smiled.

As we traveled to Thirsk, she talked about her life. I did not prompt her since I did not wish to bring up memories of her husband, but she spoke up on her own. She focused mostly on matters not having to do with him. I learned of her childhood. She had grown up in Skyrim and had moved to Solstheim and met her husband there.

She was an enjoyable traveling companion. She did not slow me down and she provided good conversation.

We encountered almost all of the usual hostile creatures of Solstheim, but we saw no Fryse Hags.

Eventually, we reached sight of Thirsk.

"They might even be open for business again," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"An Udyrfrykte attacked. It killed most of them and trashed the place. The mead hall has been closed for repairs."

"Oh."

We reached the hall and entered. I could see nothing after the bright sun and snow. My eyes would need a moment to adjust.

Conversation stopped. I was reminded of the last time that conversation had stopped here upon my entry: the circumstances were much different now.

The silence was ended by Svenja's voice. She shouted: "All hail Rashelle the outlander, chieftain of Thirsk!"

Hehe. Let's hope Rashelle's plan doesn't go to waste. It'd be ironic if the werewolves nabbed someone else now.... Oh wait... I think they do

Hm... Curiouser and curiouser.

So we approach conclusion, eh? There's only not a large number of things to do now for Rashelle.But there's still one more to be kidnapped, right. I almost forgot...

The no fryse hags keeps nagging me. Why did they vanish all of a sudden? But then, maybe they simply ran out of swordfodder to hurl at Rashelle.

Yes damn it! And no actual info at all! The suspense is killing me! She slaughtered a whole bunch of them before and after the one she spared, and that one appeared before her once then vanished... did she meet any more after that? GAR! Suspense! Hurk, bleh!

What bugs me most that from time to time it will be said something about seeing no Fryse Hags! This might mean there is something in store for them, but what?

Let me quote you here: GAR! Suspense! Hurk, bleh!

Well yes, with the repetition of "no Fryse Hags" I was sure we would finally get a hint. But no! We are doomed to wait for another delicious update in suspense! DOOMED I say!

I suppose it's just Rashelle finally noticing what I've been noticing for some time now. Then again, less people trying to kill you and less people you have to kill is probably a good thing... isn't it?

While unnervin, I agree it is a good thing.

Constantly resharping your blade becomes a bother real soon, ya know? (Ok, that is admittedly not the right argument.)

Oh yes. The right argument would be:

The Repair Hammers you have to carry around for instant repairing weight tons. They slow you down greatly...

Then there's is the small matter of Rashelle not liking it when people try to kill her and she has to kill them to avoid it. But that's only a small matter.

Chapter 19. Mead



There was a deafening cheer. They were cheering for me ... the new chieftain of Thirsk. I had not expected this. It was logical in retrospect, but at that moment I was frozen in astonishment.

I turned to see that Kolfinna was grinning at my amazement. I had to be gaping like an idiot. I closed my mouth.

Svenja rushed over and hugged me. She pulled away and I then raised a hand for silence.

"Svenja Snow-Song," I said in a voice loud enough to be heard by all, "in many ways you would have made better chieftain than I. You run this place efficiently and no one knows the day-to-day operations like you do."

The people cheered: good.

After pausing to wait for silence again, I continued: "I name you my second in command. All shall obey your orders as if they were mine."

She blushed and the crowd cheered, louder. Good.

I gestured to Kolfinna.

"Everyone, this is Kolfinna. Her husband was recently slain and she has been living in the wilderness by herself. I've invited her to live here at Thirsk. I expect we can find a place for her and start her off on her new life."

More cheering. An easy crowd.

"Lastly, thank you all for the wonderful and quick job that was done on the rebuilding. That is all."

They cheered again.

I walked towards the back of the room. The chieftain's throne had been rebuilt. On a small pedestal near the chair was a desiccated heart. This had to be the heart of the Udyrfrykte. I thought it a disgusting display, but who was I to argue with tradition?

Svenja gestured towards the chair. The room became silent. I must admit that I was more than a little hesitant. This was silly: as I was already the chieftain, I should not have been afraid to sit on the throne. Even so, it was with a feeling of trepidation that I approached it. I turned and looked out at the people. Focus Rashelle, focus. Svenja reached out gave my arm a squeeze.

I sat down. All in the room cheered.

I noticed a Breton man in the corner, the one with the buzzy voice who I had met on the day of the attack. He was furiously scribbling on a sheet of paper.

"He's a writer," said Svenja quietly, so that none could hear. "He's been writing a history of Thirsk. He bugs everyone for interviews. He has been here for months. He's silly and a bit over enthusiastic and asks way too many questions. The little fetcher is harmless, so we tolerate him."

I nodded. A good leader needs a good advisor and I strongly suspected that I had the best.

I rose from the throne and gestured for Svenja and Kolfinna to follow me. I led them to the bar at the back. As it was too early for drinking, we three were alone. This was a good thing, as I intended that we would have a private chat. Alas, this was not to be: I saw that the Breton man was walking in our direction.

"Svenja, could you please go and find a place for Kolfinna?"

"Certainly. Kolfinna?"

Kolfinna nodded. Svenja led her away from the bar.

The Breton reached me. I silently stared.

"Greetings, mighty chieftain," he said in that loud buzzing voice, "I am Bereditte Jastal!"

I was reminded of small children, how they speak loudly or not at all. Perhaps this man had never learned how to control his voice?

"Rashelle."

I was tempted to remark how rare it was to see a Breton here, but I did not: after all, I was also a Breton.

"This is all very exciting! You see, I've been researching Thirsk and I have been compiling a history!"

I raised an eyebrow.

"My father spent some time here in Thirsk, before I was born. When I was a child, he used to entertain me with stories of this place! As I grew up, I knew that I would have to come here!"

Perhaps it was not so much that his voice was loud, but that he was so relentlessly excited about everything.

"Did you know that you are not the first Breton woman to be the chieftain? Yes, it is true: Amelie Bontecou was chieftain and ruled for three years! She became chieftain by slaying Grjotgaror, a Nord man who was the previous chieftain!"

"What do you know of the Fryse Hags?" I asked. At this point, he was probably the only one on the island I had yet to ask. Despite his odd mannerisms, he seemed to be a knowledgeable person. He might actually know something about them.

"Oh, the Ice Witches? Not much! They used to be a healing order some centuries ago! Their headquarters is somewhere west or northwest, possibly up in riekling territory! They're not very interesting so I never bothered to learn more than that!"

For not knowing much, this man had just doubled my information.

"Ah," he added as he gestured towards my bare arms, "Don't you get cold, dressed like that?"

Actually, in parts of Vvardenfell, this armor would get very warm. A sunny day in the Ashlands always turned the ebony into a hot iron. Had I not worn a sleeveless shirt under the cuirass, I would have been branded by the hot metal.

"No. I enjoy the climate here."

"Ah, anyway ... I've written a history of Thirsk! I've got to update it to include you and then I'll give you a free copy!"

Oh, rapture!

He was scribbling something on the paper, so he did not notice my smirk.

"Tell me," I asked, "have you written other books?"

"Oh yes, several! I've even got copies of some of them for sale!"

I imagine that my eyes began to glaze over.

"I've even got copies of my famous academic treatise 'Sovngarde, a Reexamination' for sale!"

Had I been a Khajiit, my ears would have pricked up.

"How much?"

He was actually silent for a few breaths. Apparently a person desiring to buy a book from him was a rare occurrence.

"Only 75 septims! I can even autograph it for you! No extra charge!"

With difficulty, I refrained from rolling my eyes. I counted out the specified amount and gave it to him.

"It's in my room! I'll fetch it now!"

"I'll come with you and see what other books you've got."

"Ha ha, hubba hubba! In my room!" he rolled his eyes suggestively.

Quicker than thought, my hand darted out and twisted his ear.

"Ow ow! I mean, mighty chieftain, I will show you the books and it will all be very proper and genteel!"

I let go and said, "Lead on."

We went upstairs.

In his room were many books, as well as a large quantity of papers. I feared it would become a fire hazard.

"Ah, yes, here we go!"

He handed me a suspiciously light volume.

"A bit thin, isn't it?"

"Yet it concisely has all of the relevant information!" he said, proudly.

I opened the book. At least it had been printed. Good: handwriting can be difficult to decipher and my gut feeling was that this man would have terrible penmanship.

"Thank you, muthsera."

I perused the other books he had for sale, but found nothing else of interest. I left his room and found Svenja in the hallway.

"Rashelle, I've put Kolfinna in that room."

She pointed towards one of the doors.

"Thank you, Svenja. I hope that she isn't a burden. I just felt so sorry for her, losing her husband and living all alone. I felt I had to do something."

"You did a good thing, Rashelle."

I grinned.

"Come with me," she said.

She led me down the hallway and to another door. She took out a key and opened the door. She entered the room and lit a candle. I stepped into the room. It was larger than the other rooms in Thirsk. I remember that I had been here once before, when I was searching for stranded people after the Udyrfrykte attack. It was now less cluttered. The room was furnished with a chest of drawers, a bed, a small table by the bed, upon which was the now-lit candle, a bear skin rug and a stack of crates.

"Those are temporary: a shipment of mead that we could not find a spot for. They will be moved as soon as possible."

I nodded.

"This is the chieftain's room, newly refurbished. It is your room."

She lowered her gaze and asked shyly: "Do you like it?"

My own room in Thirsk! Of course the chieftain would get a room: it was obvious in retrospect but I had not thought about that until then.

"Oh Svenja, it's wonderful!"

She beamed.

She waved towards the door: apparently she had other things to show me. I stepped into the hallway. I heard her blow the candle out and she then joined me. She locked the door and handed me the key.

"There are two keys: I've got the other one."

"Good."

I followed her down the stairs. She led me outside and then turned to the right. I realized that she was taking me to see the smith. Of course: it would be a bit rude for a new chieftain to not visit him! I had not thought of that but Svenja had: she indeed should have been the chieftain.

After we chatted with the smith, whose name was Brynjolfr, Svenja led me towards the front of the mead hall.

"Now, Rashelle, we should discuss business."

"At the Lake," I said, before she could open either of the doors.

She raised an eyebrow.

I motioned to the lake and took a step. She nodded.

Soon we were on the ice again, playing with the horkers.

"Rashelle, as you already know, part of the income of Thirsk is generated by the sale of snow wolf and snow bear pelts. Generally, every chieftain takes a percentage of the revenue for themselves. How much do you want?"

"None, Svenja: put the profits back into Thirsk."

I rubbed a horker's belly and it groaned in pleasure.

"Rashelle, I know that you are the wandering type. I know you like to explore. You will be away from Thirsk for weeks or months at a time."

I nodded: this was true.

"I am glad that you understand that," I said. "I have already made you second in command: when I am away you can do whatever you think needs to be done, however you want to do it."

She nodded. Her horker groaned happily as she rubbed its belly.

We spent several hours on the lake. Svenja had a lot of things to teach me about Thirsk. The operation of a mead hall was more complex than I would have imagined, and I was ignorant of most of their customs. She did her best to fill me in.

"The sun is setting," she said. "We should go back."

"Agreed, and I am getting hungry."

We left our horker friends and returned to the mead hall.

Upon entering the building, I saw that the party was already in progress.

A man was singing "... in the cave she met the beast, and cut quite short its awwwwfull feast!" He went on and it soon became apparent that he was singing about me!

"Food for the chieftain!" someone shouted. That sounded like a good plan to me.

I was soon seated at one of the tables (as I did not want to balance a plate on the arm of the throne) tearing into a frost boar steak.

"Mead?"

I hesitated. I had never tried mead before. But hey, it was mead hall, right? And I was the chieftain. As my mouth was still full, I could only nod silently.

A tankard was placed in my hand. I took a sip. It was horrible: truly nasty and vile, a foul-tasting liquid. I forced a smile to my face. I swallowed and then said; "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Carrying the mead with me, I found Svenja.

"Svenja, this seems funny to me. Could you taste it please?"

I handed her my tankard. She took a swallow.

"Mmmmmmm, mead. Mead's my drink! Rectifies the humors and confuses the vermin!"

"So this has not gone bad?"

"Oh no, you've got good mead there."

"It tastes nasty to me. I guess it is an acquired taste."

"You mean you have never had mead before?"

I sheepishly shook my head.

She laughed, a great loud laugh from down in the belly.

"Oh, I am sorry Rashelle. The irony that the chieftain of the mead hall ... oh that's too much."

I grinned.

"Anyway," she said, "That mead is fine. No worries."

"Good to know. Thank you."

I returned to my seat. I could force the stuff down as long as I knew it was safe to do so, and Svenja had just assured me that it was. I did not want to put a damper on the party by refusing mead. More importantly, I was in the mood to get stinking drunk. It had been a while since I had done so. I was among friendly people in a safe place, and I was ready to party!

I gulped down the rest of the mead and, following the example of the people around me, banged the tankard on the table.

"Mead for the chieftain!"

Someone filled my tankard and I thanked them.

Upon draining my third tankard, I realized that something was wrong. I can normally hold my booze fairly well. Three mugs of ale or wine would have had me fuzzy and happy, yet still in control. Instead, I felt strange. I felt hot: very hot. This did not feel like inebriation at all.

"Lass, you're sweating!"

I put my hand to my face. It was true: my face was wet.

I was so hot: I felt like I was in a lava pit.

"I need to get outside!"

"Clear the way for the chieftain!"

As I walked towards the door, I became still hotter. I was having trouble thinking. I began to run: I had to get outside! I knocked someone aside: they were in my way!

I all but smashed one of the two doors from its hinges as as I emerged into the night air. I'm sure it was a normal cold night in Solstheim, but I was even hotter than I had been inside.

I reached down and dashed some snow in my face. I swear it melted straightaway. I threw myself down on the ground and rolled in the snow, but I was still burning up.

"Are you OK?" said a voice. Some people had gone outside, presumably to see if I was all right. I wasn't.

I screamed: the heat was too much. I was having trouble thinking and I was incapable of coherent speech.

"She she OK?" said a buzzing voice.

I growled and threw my pack off.

My hands fumbled with my cuirass. Someone tried to approach me and I slapped them away. I howled in agony and struggled to remove my cuirass. The intense heat had maddened me. I roared my frustration. I had to get it off!

Finally I was able to remove the accursed thing. I was still too hot. I yanked off my boots, then my greaves. I stripped naked: I was beyond modesty.

Somehow, Chrysamere was in my hands and I was running. I ran like the wind. Still, I was too hot. In the frigid night of Solstheim I ran, suffering from the intense heat.

I reached the lake and skidded out onto the ice. Maybe If I lay down and pressed myself against the ice I could finally be cool enough. Before I could attempt this, a horker slammed into me. Tusks dug into my leg but I did not feel any pain.

I growled and swung my blade, narrowly missing the horker. I raised my sword: my next stroke would cleave the beast in two. Dimly, memories of my happy times on the lake returned. Horkers had never attacked before. What nightmare world had I entered? Snarling, I backed away: I very much wanted to slay this creature, but some lingering memory fought to stay my hand. My sword trembled from my internal struggle.

The sound of menacing groans filled the air: other horkers were charging towards me, with obvious hostile intentions. Part of me wanted to lash out and slay them all, laughing the whole time. A small remaining dim ember of sanity made me turn and run away, away from the lake.

I was not thinking any more; I was more an animal. Things did not have names. My memories of my past were dim: there was only the present moment, and the heat ... the heat that would not stop ... and a rage. I wanted to slay everything that moved.

I tore through a riekling patrol. I saw a spriggan and killed her once. My claymore was arcing through the air even as she was coming to life again. I snarled as I killed her a third time.

I thought I saw Svenja. I began to ran towards her to slay her but something made me turn and run away. I screamed my frustration. Perhaps a small bit of my humanity remained, after all ... some fragment of a memory that Svenja was a friend.

Northwest, I raced. In retrospect, I believe that I ran in this direction because There would be far less people in that part of the island: I would only kill animals and rieklings, not Men.

This went on for hours. My memories are fuzzy save for one important thing: though it was a struggle, I did not kill any people aside from ... other berserkers.

The sun was rising as I was fighting a large group of rieklings: easily forty of them. While I am skilled with any melee weapon, there was no way that I could normally take on that many of the blue fetchers at once and live.

As I dispatched the last one, I began to feel tired. The oppressive heat was finally going away. I shook my head. This seemed to clear it. My awareness, my thoughts, returned to me. I was myself again. A cool breeze comforted me.

I was naked on the snow, standing near a castle made of ice. Later I was to learn that this was Castle Karstaag, where lived the ruler of the rieklings.

Aside from the gash in my leg, which I had received from the horker, I was uninjured: nothing else had been able to get though my guard. I cast a healing spell and the wound disappeared.

Sunrise was a time of Azura. Perhaps this had returned me to normal. Or perhaps the effects of the mead had simply worn off on their own.

"No ... more ... mead. Ever!" I said aloud.

For that night, I had been a berserker. Had something like this happened to Marisa? Was this why she was against mead?

I shifted my grip on my claymore. At least my sword was still with me: I could always count on Chrysamere.

I wore nothing save The Ring of Azura and the Moon and Star ring: even in my madness I had not removed them. I had no sheath for Chrysamere: it had been left, along with the rest of my possessions, in the snow outside of Thirsk. I would have to walk back to Thirsk, with no armor and no potions. Weapon unsheathed, I would be mistaken for a berserker by any people who I encountered. I did not want to fight innocents because of a misunderstanding. Perhaps I could use Divine Intervention to be teleported to the fort, but there was still the chance that the troopers there would think me a berserker. This would also happen if I Recalled to Raven Rock.

I could cast Almsivi intervention, which would take me all the way to Gnisis. Since berserkers were not known in Vvardenfell, no one would attack me merely for being nude. This seemed the safest plan.

From behind an ice outcrop stepped a Fryse Hag. She looked right at me but did not attack. From behind a mound of snow rose another Hag. I slowly turned in place and beheld more Hags. From every direction they were emerging. I was surrounded by them. There were at least thirty of them. They just stood there, silently watching me.

I readied my Almsivi Intervention spell but none of the women attacked. I waited.

The wind blew quietly.

After a minute, one of them said, "It is cold, yet she does not shiver."

"She stands naked on the snow with no evidence of discomfort, " said another.

They spoke in turn. Voices from in front of me, behind me, to the side.

"The cold does not effect her."

"She is a foreigner and has the appearance of a Breton."

"She reacts to the cold as a Nord."

"She is a Nord on the inside."

"She is a Nord where it counts."

"We have watched her."

"He have seen the events of the night, the effects of the mead."

"Many beasts she killed last night, with hardly a scratch on her."

"She faces us without fear."

"A true warrior she is."

"She is one of us."

That's OK: just talk about me in the third person as long as you like. No problem.

"Rashelle, you are a true Nord and you are one of us," said one. I guess she was the leader.

She approached me and I could see that she appeared slightly older than other Hags. There was suggestion of lines on her face. She had a ruthless look to her.

I remained silent. How did she know my name?

"We are the Ice Witches. In the old tongue, Fryse Hags. Kyne, mother of men, is our goddess."

"Kiss at the end," chorused the other women.

"I am Ylva She-Wolf, interim den-mother of the Ice Witches. Rashelle, there is a place for you as an Ice Witch if you want it. Won't you join us?"

"I have slain some of your people," I said. "How do you feel about that?"

"They attacked you. You defended yourself. Since you are alive and they are dead, they were obviously unworthy."

It had a brutal sort of logic to it.

When surrounded by this many people, refusing to join would not be a prudent thing to do. However, as always, I said the first thing on my mind without first thinking about it.

"No. I'll pass."

I expected them to try capture me or kill me or some such.

She nodded.

"This is not unexpected. Still, we recognize you as one of us. From this day forward no Ice Witch shall ever harm you. This extends to any who travel with you."

I wasn't going to have to fight my way out of this after all: good.

"If you ever change your mind, my invitation remains. Talk to any one of us. We will welcome you into our ranks ..."

She smiled.

"... with open arms."

Another Witch walked up to me. She held out a bundle: it was some sort of clothing. I took the offered bundle. The woman bowed and walked away.

"This is a set of clothing for you," said Ylva. "We wouldn't want you being mistaken for a berserker, would we? Good day, Rashelle. Remember, though you deny it, you are one of us."

They darted away, each in a different direction.

I was alone again.

I examined the clothing. I had feared that it would be a set of Ice Witch clothing but it actually consisted of a pair of plain brown pants and an exquisite red tunic. There were no shoes, but barefoot on the snow would not be a hardship for me.

A red tunic in this style was the unofficial uniform of House Redoran, which was my House. How much did they know about me?

I put the clothing on. Now I could, if I wished, teleport to the fort or to Raven Rock without fear of being mistaken for a berserker. I could then buy armor and walk to Thirsk.

The mead hall was my destination. I had to make sure that the two people I had struck during my mad rush were unhurt. I also wanted to reassure everyone there that I was now all right. Additionally, I wanted to know what the people of Thirsk felt about what had happened to me: If they decided to throw me out of Thirsk, I would accept this. I just wanted to know, to get it over with already.

The sun sparkling off of the snow cheered me somewhat. I stood for a time, reviewing the startling recent events and collecting my thoughts. I was relieved that some small vestige of my humanity had prevented my from killing any innocent people.

I used Divine Intervention to teleport to the fort. I had intended to buy a set of armor from Zeno Faustus, but before I entered the armory, I remembered that I had no gold on me. I would just have to rely on my Unarmored skill.

North I strode from the fort. I wanted to reach Thirsk as quickly as possible.

I was trekking though an area without snow on the ground when I saw a Fryse Hag, or rather, an Ice Witch. I recognized her. She was the one with the red hair who I'd seen before ... the one who had appeared and disappeared in the snow ... the one who I had actually spoken with and who I had spared. I readied myself for her attack, in case that she had not yet received Ylva's orders regarding myself.

She slowly approached me and did not draw her dagger.

I said nothing.

She fell to her knees and raised her hands up towards me.

That was unexpected. I raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to be an Ice Witch any more," she said. "Take me with you. Show me how to be Good."

"Why?"

"I can't stand the senseless slaying any more. I want to atone for the killing that I have done."

"I don't believe you."

"Please, you must believe me."

"No."

"Then I will atone the only way I can, at least one death will be repaid."

She drew her dagger and slashed, opening a nasty wound on her forearm and wrist. She'd done it correctly; a cut along the forearm, from elbow to the base of her hand, rather than across the wrist. Already there was a pool of blood forming on the ground.

"What are you doing?" I shouted.

She looked up, into my eyes, and said, "dying."

I hurriedly crouched down and took hold of her wrist, uncaring of the dagger still held in her other hand. I cast a healing spell: magic poured into her forearm and the slash disappeared, leaving smooth unbroken skin. I let go and stood up.

"Take me with you," she said.

"Again, no."

She slashed again, making the same cut as before.

"Fine: be that way," I said angrily. "Die!"

I turned away.

Wow... we finally get more information about the Fryse Hags but it only leads to more questions. Does mead do that in the game? The ending was quite unexpected... never would have imagined Rashelle could be so heartless. You made me sad, blockhead.

Hm... So Rashelle didn't have to slay the Fryse Hags' whole base, it appears. Unexpected, but interesting! And the ending made me think... Perhaps Rashelle's turning into a Fryse Hag? That'd be the best twist EVER!

And no, the mead doesn't do that in game... Though it's fun to do on purpose.

Hmmm, an intriguing bunch of events in this update. Many questions answered, but more are raised as well. I look forward to seeing what happens next.

Rashelle as a berserker? Woah, unexpected, to say the least.

Heh, I comment to much on the Fryse Hag stuff, but no one else usually does at all, so I think it evens out.

You know, I've been getting the feeling that Svenja likes Rashelle in more ways than she realizes. Anyone else noticed that?

Woah! What an update you have here Blockie! I really enjoyed you picturing Rash as a berserker! How extraordinary....indeed.

But please...why let the poor Frysie die??? Why not just drag her along? I didn´t expect Rash to be that mean.... Who knows, maybe she can be of use for Rash...

Hey now minqe, don't go tellin blockhead how to right his own story.
















*sniff* *sniff* poor Frysie

Minque was writing way before I started. She was on one the forces of inspiration that started me writing fiction. I always pay attention her counsel: even if I disagree, I mull upon her words seriously. Her advice is always welcome.

To quote Oddball from the movie Kelly's Heroes ... "Have a little faith baby, have a little faith."

Now now my dear cheesecake! I am NOT telling blockie HOW to write his story.....you totally misinterpreted me!


I just felt some compassion for that poor frysie!


And blockie knows me .......and my comments by now...

Chapter 20. Runa



I took a step, northward, towards Thirsk.

I took a second step.

I turned. She was kneeling there, head bowed. Her life's blood poured out onto the ground. She was a murderer, an Ice Witch. She ran around killing innocent people wantonly. She deserved death.

Focus, Rashelle. Focus.

If I left this woman to die, part of me would also die.

"No!" I screamed.

I ran to her, crouched down, and healed her.

She started to say something.

I backhanded her. I could not let her die, but I was feeling a lot of anger towards her.

"You do nothing but kill! You wander the damn island slaying anyone you meet ... and you just expect me now to suddenly forgive you?"

She simply stared at me.

I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. She did not resist.

"HOW MANY HAVE YOU KILLED?" I shouted.

"Six," she said.

I froze. I had not expected an exact number. An icy cold chill ran down my spine ... not the good cold that I like, but an evil scary strange cold.

"We count our kills," she continued in a flat tone. "Six and one more would have allowed me to go to the next level."

I stared, agape.

"Our ranks are determined by how many we kill. I am of very low rank. I don't know the Secret Lore. You would have been my seventh kill. Had I been able to slay you the other day, I would then have advanced to the next level."

I was silent.

"You are trembling," she said.

I removed my hands from her shoulders.

"Please," she said, "take me along with you. I want to atone. I want to do good."

"What is your name?"

"Runa Fire-Hair."

"Runa, you must do as I say, at all times. You must not kill except in self defense."

She nodded and said, "I promise."

She seemed very sincere. Only time would tell.

"Very well. I will take you with me."

I hoped that I would not regret this.

"Oh, thank you, outlander!" she said eagerly.

"My name is Rashelle."

"Thank you, Rashelle!"

I stood up. She cleaned her dagger with snow and then sheathed it. I extended my hand. She grasped it and pulled herself up until she was standing.

It would be a long way to Thirsk and I was suddenly very tired. I can normally go without sleep for a night and not feel it, but the previous night's unusual activity had drained me. Nervous energy, the aftereffects of my meeting with the Hags and the feeling of lightness from not wearing armor, had kept me going ... but that was wearing off. I did not think I would make it to Thirsk without first taking a nap. My fatigue potions were in my pack ... at Thirsk.

I cast a Restore Fatigue spell but it didn't seem to help. I had been running rapidly, stopping only to fight, for an entire night. I needed real sleep, not a spell.

This left the question as to where to rest.

I considered teleporting to the fort for a nap. As an Ice Witch, Runa never had a reason to learn the Divine Intervention spell: she could not teleport with me to the fort. I could not lend her my Divine Intervention amulet, as it was up at Thirsk with everything else. I would have to sleep somewhere closer.

Kolfinna's old dwelling was not so far. That Dwemer ruin east of the fort was not far either. It had been on the way to that particular ruin where I had first met Runa. I'd spent a night there already. It would be a good place for me to rest.

"Rashelle, what is wrong?"

"I am thinking."

She waited.

"Follow me," I said.

She nodded.

I led her southeast: I had chosen the Dwemer ruin. On the way, we encountered another Nord tomb. Despite my weariness, I was as curious as ever: I said to Runa, "Let's go in."

This barrow was unusual in that there were no draugr or bone wolves, only skeletons. There were many of them and they were better at fighting than the average skeleton.

Runa's dagger was small yet its keen edge and its frost enchantment made it most effective. How odd it was to have an Ice Witch fighting at my side instead of against me.

The last skeleton was unusual in that it was wielding an enchanted weapon, a saber. It was even tougher than the other skeletons. As I parried the saber I could sense the nature of the enchantment on the blade: it was a Demoralize Creature spell which would tend to make animals turn and run away. Since Runa and I were not beasts, it had no effect on us.

After this last undead had been dispatched, I said, "Runa, I am tired and I need to rest. My original plan was to sleep in a Dwemer ruin nearby, but this tomb will serve. I would like you to stay here while I rest. Do not go outside for any reason."

I did not want her out of my sight.

"I promise."

I brushed dust from a spot by a stalhrim coffin. I missed my sleeping fur already. I lay down on the hard floor, sword still in my hands.

"Rashelle, I won't attack you. There is no reason to sleep with your sword."

"Runa, I always sleep like this. If I had armor now, I'd keep it on."

"That's strange."

"It's kept me alive."

"Don't you ever take the armor off?"

"Only for certain situations where it would get in the way."

"What do you mean?"

"Bathing, other things."

I slept.

After what felt like an hour or so, I awoke. I felt able to function again.

Runa was crouched against one of the carved stones, running her finger slowly along the surface.

"Runa."

She turned to me.

"Can you read those?"

"Oh yes. Most Ice Witches cannot, but I learned to read the Old Tongue, as well as Tamrielic, back at the orphanage in Skyrim."

"How did you end up here in Solstheim?"

"When I was a child, the Ice Witches recruited me."

"The Witches are in Skyrim as well?"

"Not really, but they go there to recruit children."

She continued, "I had run away from the orphanage. I'd been living in the streets for a week or so. The Ice Witches came. They said I would end up a thief or a prostitute or dead if I continued living that way. They fed me. They clothed me. They took care of me."

Recruit them as children, at an impressionable age. It made sense, in an evil way.

I stood up and brushed dust from my clothing.

"Rashelle, I searched the skeletons. One of them, the one with the enchanted sword, was carrying a pouch. In this, I found a note and a key. The note is a poem hinting at a treasure. I would guess the key is to that treasure."

"Ha. Most likely some other adventurer has found it by now and picked the locks. It is of no concern to me."

"But you are an outlander. You come here to loot the tombs and steal the treasure."

I glared at her.

"Runa, I have no need of treasure. I won't deny that I've looted many a tomb, but that is not why I came to Solstheim. I came here to see new things. I came here to explore."

"I'm sorry."

Now that I had rested, we could head straight to Thirsk, but there was a nagging ... something ... in my mind.

"Are we going now?" she asked.

"Yes."

Memory came to me of that book ... the one that I had found in the Dwemer ruin. Maybe Runa could read it. I needed to go to Thirsk, but that ruin was nearby, and I was curious.

Upon leaving the barrow, I could see that it was rather late in the afternoon. Sunset was not so far off. I had slept longer than I had intended to.

A few spriggans and bears later we reached the ruin. We entered and discovered that new Dwemer robots had replaced the ones I had destroyed the last time. Perhaps they had come from the lower depths of the facility, the areas which I had not explored. Runa and I fought through them.

The book was in the desk, where I had left it. Runa showed a care akin to my own as she handled the ancient tome. I approved. I was beginning to like her, though it was too soon to see if I could trust her.

I built a fire and I started to cook some meat. This time, it was a chunk of bear meat that I had obtained on the way from the tomb. I cooked as she read. She was rapt in concentration, though she did not look happy. I left her to it.

Eventually, the meat was done.

"Runa. Come eat. Put the book down."

"Rashelle, do you know what book this is?"

"Ancient Nordic cooking secrets?"

"No. It's our charter."

"Er?"

"This is a copy of the Ice Witch Charter. It may even be the original, since it is handwritten."

I raised an eyebrow. What were the odds of that?

"Rashelle, there's been a terrible mistake. According to this book, we're not supposed to kill. We're supposed to heal and protect. We were a healing order! We fought only to protect people!"

A look of horror was on her face. What Runa had just said agreed with what Bereditte Jastal and Ulfgar The Unending had told me before.

"Rashelle, we must go and tell them."

"Wait."

"But, but ... don't you see? We can tell them and they will change their ways."

"Runa. I want you to think about a few things first."

"But why? Let's go!"

"Firstly, It is evening."

"OK, we go tomorrow, first thing in the morning!"

"Secondly, how long ago did you desert?"

"Several days ago. I've been trying to contact you for days, while simultaneously trying to avoid the rest of the Witches."

"What of that time in the snow storm? I saw you in the snow, once."

"I, I panicked. I wasn't sure. You looked like you were going to kill me."

"I was. You Hags were really annoying me."

"I-I-I'm sorry."

"Anyway, it's been long enough that the Ice Witches know that you left. As a deserter, what welcome will you receive?"

She paled, a difficult feat since she was a Nord and thus already pale, but she managed it.

"Oh, yeah: I forgot."

"Lastly, Runa, consider this: how did the Hags change from a healing order to a death-dealing order?"

She was silent.

"Back when I was investigating the Nerevarine prophecies, I visited the wise women of the Ashlander tribes. They had lost some of the prophecies. Some of them that were not lost were garbled."

"How? Why?"

"Almost none of them were ever written down. They were handed down by word of mouth. Though wise in many ways, and of a keen intellect, none of the Ashlander wise women knew how to read or write. It was a good thing that the Dunmer live so long, otherwise more would have been lost."

"Rashelle, the Secret Lore of the Ice Witches is only known to a few high ranking members, and they do not write it down: they pass it along by word of mouth."

"There you go. With the shorter lifespan of Men, the rate of garbling and loss of the information is greater than it was for the Dunmer."

"Rashelle, just passing by word of mouth changed the charter?"

"That, and possibly something else."

She scowled and said, "What do you mean?"

"Keep in mind that this will be supposition, though logical. I have no evidence."

"I understand. Continue."

I remained silent.

"Please," she added.

"Some people like power. They like to control. They like to tell others what to do. Some enjoy power just to get a bigger slice of the pie: to live a life of luxury at the expense of others. Some will go to great lengths to obtain it.

"What if two or three particularly selfish and ruthless individuals wanted to take over an existing organization?"

"You mean, attack it and take them over?"

"Nothing so obvious, no. They would do it from the inside. They would join this organization. Perhaps they were already members. They'd rise in the ranks, perhaps speeding their way along by spying and blackmail, by manipulation, maybe even by outright assassination."

She nodded and replied, "Assassination is another way of gaining rank as an Ice Witch. If you can successfully slay your superior, you obviously deserved her rank."

How Telvanni. I had learned more about the Ice Witches but was beginning to wish that I had not.

"So you kill each other as well as everyone else? Yeesh!"

"That is why I left, Rashelle. I could not take it any more."

"So, Runa, what I am trying to say is this: perhaps two or so centuries ago, some group used the above means to put themselves in control of the original Ice Witches. They then decided on new Secret Lore, more to their tastes. Good Hags, the followers of the real Lore, were either slain outright or they began simply to have 'accidents'. Some probably went along with the new rules for fear of their lives."

This was all off the top of my head, but it seemed logical to me, quite plausible.

"Eventually, only the ruthless 'new type' Ice Witches remained. A generation passed and all was forgotten but for the new ways."

She frowned, but did not deny it. As there was no written records from the time of the transition, we would never know for sure. I suspected that this was close to how it had actually happened.

"Runa, they won't believe you. And they may not want to change: I'll venture a guess that Ylva and the higher ranking Ice Witches enjoy the way things are now."

"So there is nothing we can do?" she said.

"Not that I can think of. Perhaps, over time, an idea will emerge."

"And right now?"

I held out a piece of the bear meat.

"We eat."

After a time, she spoke.

"Rashelle, their base is in Domme, near Thormoor's Watch, on the west coast. It is a system of ice caves."

I had not asked her about this because I did not want to push her. I feared that if I pushed her, I would get no information.

"Thormoor's Watch?"

"Yes. It's named after this strange man why stands there day and night. No one has ever seen him sleep. A mean fighter, he is. We, ummm ... they, have given up on trying to kill him."

Thormoor stood there no longer: his curse of sleeplessness had ended. I wondered where he had gotten to?

"I urge you not to try to attack the base," she continued, "I know you can take several of us at once, but you'd be overwhelmed if you went there. And there is no way you could sneak in. They have the Secret Lore: they have ways of knowing when someone is coming. They will kill you."

"I've been invited to join them, by Ylva She-Wolf."

She was visibly astounded.

"It happened this morning," I continued, "shortly after sunrise, in the icy northwest part of the island, near a castle made of ice."

She blinked and said nothing.

"Ylva gave orders that no Fryse Hags would ever attack me. She declared me one of them."

"Rashelle, don't do it. Do not go there."

"Runa. I need a night's sleep. I'm going to put wards on the doors so nothing can sneak in without waking me. Then I am going to sleep. Wake me if you need to go outside for any reason. Do not leave without me."

After setting the spells as I had described, I curled up in a corner. She looked at me strangely as I once again clutched my sword in my hands.

I smiled at her and said, "Good night, Runa."



We reached sight of Thirsk in the late morning, close to noon.

"Runa, I want you to be silent."

She looked questioningly at me.

"I do not wish conflict at Thirsk. I will not hide the fact that you are an Ice Witch: I will be honest with them. However, I think that you might say the wrong thing. I want you to swear a vow of silence until I tell you to stop, OK?"

She nodded.

"Even to warn me of something, even to shout 'look out', would break your vow. Remain silent at all times, in all situations, at all costs. Will you do this?"

She nodded. Good.

I led the remainder of the way to Thirsk. I opened the door and we stepped inside.

"Rashelle! You're back!" said Svenja, who appeared out of nowhere as she always seemed to, "Are you all right now?"

A wave of shame flooded through me. I had left here as a berserker.

"Yes Svenja ... now I am."

I raised my voice, addressing everyone in the room, "I must never drink mead again. It turns me into a berserker."

There, I'd said it. I waited for their reaction. They'd tell me to leave. Most likely Svenja would be the acting chieftain until another emerged with a suitable trophy.

"That's amazing; not one in a hundred does that happen to," said one of the men.

"Truly a Nord you are," exclaimed another in wonderment.

"What a chieftain!" said another happily.

"Hail, mighty berserker chieftain!"

Comprehension dawned on me. They thought it was absolutely wonderful that I had been a berserker. As I have said before, Nords are just ... twisted.

I looked into Svenja's eyes. I saw nothing but approval and admiration. I felt somehow disappointed: I'd hoped that she would be different.

"Outside, I struck someone while in my madness, and in here I smashed into someone during my rush to get out. I am sorry and I can heal them both now."

"No worries," said one of the men. "I don't mind a pretty lass knocking me down!"

Laughter filled the great hall.

"You pack a mighty wallop!" said another, happily.

I could not help but smile. Apparently, all was well at Thirsk ... even with a berserker chieftain.

"Who is your friend?" asked Svenja. The ice in her voice was not the kind I liked.

"This is Runa, Runa Fire-hair. She is under a vow of silence."

Svenja glared and said, "She is dressed as a Fryse Hag. I see she even wears their kind of dagger."

"Runa is a former Fryse Hag. She has defected. She wants to reform herself. She wants to atone."

"Fryse Hags slew my father," said Svenja, "She must die."

Her features contorted with hatred. She turned and ran for the back of the room.

"Runa: do not move," I said.

Svenja had reached the bar. From behind it, she fetched her axe. I advanced a few steps until I was standing in front of Runa.

"No, Svenja!"

"They slew my father!" she shouted, "My mother died of a broken heart after father was slain. Hags killed my parents!"

"Runa is under my protection. Do not touch her."

Svenja was running towards me, axe raised. She screamed and her axe arced though the air. My claymore parried.

The muscles in her arms bulged as her axe came at me again. Chrysamere blocked her swing.

I was horrified. This was my friend. After all the time we'd spent together, the things we'd done together, I could not believe that she would attack me merely to get at Runa.

I kicked and she flew back.

I hit her with a paralysis spell. It didn't work. Svenja resumed her attack. I swung and, with a loud clang, her axe flew through the air. She kicked. I dodged fast enough that it was only a glancing blow. Still holding my sword, I struck her jaw with my elbow. She staggered and took a step back. I kicked her in the stomach. Her Nordic ringmail cuirass absorbed most of the impact, and I was barefoot, but still the wind was knocked out of her. She fell.

Svenja, my friend, lay on the floor, gasping in pain.

I looked around. I saw that her axe had embedded itself in a beam: no one had been hurt. The room was silent but for Svenja's gasps. Fortunately, no one had tried to interfere: all stood (or sat) motionless.

I crouched by Svenja and cast two spells. One was a fatigue spell: it forced her to fall asleep. She would be out for twelve minutes or so. The other one was a Restore Health spell: whatever damage I had done to her was now healed.

I stood up.

"She is fine and will soon be awake again."

I paused.

"Fetch my pack and my armor."

From the back of the room ran a man carrying my pack, my armor, the clothes that I wore under the armor, and my sheath. They had been by the bar, where doubtless Svenja had loyally watched over them. He approached me. I motioned for him to drop them on the floor. He did so.

"Thank you."

I would have liked to change into my usual garments but there was not enough time to find a private place to do so before Svenja awakened. I instead put my armor on over the clothes I was currently wearing. It felt good to wear my armor, my sheath and my pack again. Finally, I was able to return Chrysamere to its sheath.

"Do not hold this against Svenja," I ordered. "She is still second in command of Thirsk. Continue to obey her orders as my own."

I strode to the beam and pulled Svenja's axe from it. I returned to Svenja's side and set the axe down. I put the handle in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it.

"Protect her," I said. "Do nothing bad to her. If anything happens to her, I'll know ... and I will exact retribution."

The room was silent.

"For now, I am leaving. I want no strife at Thirsk."

I took Runa's wrist and led her outside.

She looked like she was going to burst, but she kept her vow: good girl.

I did not know if Svenja would try to pursue us upon awakening or not. I hoped that time would make her more reasonable. I had not known about her parents.

I strode south and then southwest. I wished to avoid the lake for now: I was not ready to see if the horkers would attack me or not.

After an encounter with a pack of wolves, and another with a frost boar, I said, "Runa, I release you from your vow of silence."

"Thank you."

I continued walking, but Runa tugged on my arm. I stopped and turned to face her.

"Rashelle, I am sorry to have caused this trouble. Just slay me. Kill me now. Then you can go back."

"No, Runa. I will not do that. I will teach you to be good. I will help you atone."

"But, your friend. What will you do?"

"I don't know."

She frowned.

I realized that if we continued to walk in the direction that we had been going, we would end up near Brodir Grove and the home of Ulfgar The Unending. In my pack was that recently obtained book on Sovngarde. I had not yet read the book, but I had hopes that it would be of help to him.

"Runa, come. We are going to the Brodir Grove."

Well I certainly hope time with help ease the rift between Rashelle and Svenja; it's not good for friends to be fighting each other!

Excellent update.

Ahhh Blockie..dear dear blockie! What an excellent continuation, I just knew Rash would do the right thing, oh my do I like that woman! I can´t wait to learn more about Rash and Runa, what tey´re up to. Hmmmm but I´m sorry about Svenja, I can understand her reaction...yes I can, but I hope she will come to her senses....I´m sure she will.....in due time. Now Nords can be a bit grumpy for a long time so maybe she will be mad at Rashelle for some time..

Anyway....a wonderful update.....more please?

...Aaand the right thing happened! Woot!

But I sure hope Svenja will get normal in time. Because, I see why she wants to kill Fryse Hags, but... Y'know. It would be indeed a pity if Svenja started going evil like that, and try to get Runa at any cost.

Well, I can't really say anything that hasn't already been said multiple times, but I'm not so sad now.

Gosh dangit, things are never easy, are they?

So one potential friend gained, one good friend potentially lost. At least Solstheim is cold. Imagine Thirsk being at Red Mountain. Svenja would never be able to cool down in that heat. (bad pun.)

Atrocious.

Chapter 21. Sovngarde



"Will Svenja follow us, Rashelle?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Had she decided to pursue, she would have already caught up to us."

Runa still looked unconvinced, so I pointed to the clear set of tracks we had been leaving in the snow. She nodded.

I was relieved: I did not want to fight my friend.

We walked for a time before she spoke again.

"I miss my friend, Emma."

"Is she one of you?"

"An Ice Witch? Yes. She is even newer than I. She's been working in the kitchen and doing things like cleaning. She has yet to go out. She's never killed, not even in self-defense. I fear what will happen to her when she does."

"Maybe she'll run off, like you did."

"I don't know. She hasn't had that much training in combat and she does not know many spells. Out here, on her own, I doubt she could survive."

I had no answer to that.

It was the late afternoon when we reached Brodir Grove. Since I did not see Ulfgar around, I entered his cave.

Runa and I descended the passage and reached the living area. Ulfgar was there. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. I'm sure that he knew that she was an Ice Witch, but the fact of her appearing with me raised enough of a question that he did not react in a hostile manner.

"Hello again, outlander. And hello, stranger, I do not believe we have met."

"I am Runa Fire-Hair, I ..."

She hesitated.

"Ulfgar, she defected from the Fryse Hags," I said. "She wants to atone. She's with me."

"I've never heard of that happening before."

"I could not bear it any longer," said Runa quietly. "I want to save lives, to make up for the ones I have taken. I want to do good."

"Centuries ago, your order did not kill. Can you tell me what changed, lass?"

She related the theories that she and I had discussed earlier.

"That is interesting," he said, "and sad. Do you have that book with you?"

"No," she answered. "We decided, for the time being, to leave it in a safe place."

"I see. Rashelle, have you found any information on Sovngarde?"

The tone in his voice indicated that it was a rhetorical question and that he expected the answer to be the accustomed "no".

"I may have," I answered.

He froze.

From my pack I removed the book which I had purchased from Bereditte Jastal in Thirsk.

"I have not had a chance to read this book, but it may be of interest to you."

I held the book out. He took it and his eyes glanced down at the cover.

"'Sovngarde, a Reexamination' ... could it be?" he said.

"I do not know."

He looked at the book, then back up at me.

"Ulfgar, go ahead. Read. We won't be offended."

"Thank you, lass."

Standing right where he was, not even walking over to a chair, he opened the book and began to read.

"We'll be right back," I said.

He nodded absently.

I gestured to Runa and walked to the tunnel. She followed. Just before the entrance, I stopped. I dropped my pack and then removed my sheathed claymore.

"Rashelle, what are you doing?"

"I am using this opportunity to change into my normal clothing," I said as I removed my cuirass and then the red tunic. It was a relief to take it off: it had been a bit large and the sleeves bothered me.

Runa raised an eyebrow and said, "I see the cold does not affect you at all."

I laughed.

From my pack I drew my regular sleeveless shirt. It had been washed: I sadly thought of Svenja. I put it on and then replaced my cuirass, weapon and pack. The cool air of the ice cave was pleasing on my now-bare arms.

"Now, Runa," I said as I adjusted my pack, "you can wear this tunic and appear less like an Ice Witch. It should fit you better, as well."

Being that Nords are larger than Bretons, the tunic did indeed fit her better.

"I may get cold."

"You, a Nord?"

"Yes, we can get cold, we're not all like you."

We both smiled.

"So," she continued, "I will keep my fur shirt in my pack, since I may still need it from time to time."

I nodded.

"Lass? Are you still there?" called Ulfgar from below. It had not taken him long to finish the thin volume.

"Let's go see what's up," I said to Runa. She nodded.

"Coming, Ulfgar," I called down the passage.

We walked down and returned to the living area.

"Rashelle, this book does indeed show the way to Sovngarde."

"Oh, good. Then you can start off straightaway?"

"You didn't read it, did you?"

"No: as I've said, I haven't had the time."

I'd been busy being a berserker, meeting up with Ice Witches, catching up on sleep and saving Runa from a maddened Svenja.

"To enter Sovngarde, a true warrior must die in battle. According to this book, people have been contacted from beyond the grave who made it there. This proves it."

"Proves it?"

"It proves that I must be slain in battle. Then I will go to Sovngarde and drink mead forever."

"Oh."

I could see where this was going to go. He'd want me to fight him and slay him.

"No," I said, "I won't do it. That's murder."

"It is not if I am asking you to do it."

"No more killing," added Runa.

"Lass, please: I have lived five hundred years!"

Runa snorted.

I glared at her and said, "he has!"

She lowered her head and said "I'm sorry."

"Lass, please," he implored.

Here I was, trying to show Runa how to be good, trying to help her atone for her killing ... and now I had the conundrum of someone actually asking to be killed.

"Let me see the book."

He handed it to me. I sat down on the ice and opened the book.

"May I read over your shoulder?" asked Runa.

"Of course."

I read the book. It was exactly as Ulfgar had said. Researchers had contacted the dead, who had apparently reached this Sovngarde place. If one could believe the book, then Ulfgar did indeed have to die in battle. But what if that Breton ninny was mistaken? I frowned. Socially inept he might be, but the better savants were often that way. The book was probably correct. I didn't like probabilities, I liked certainties. In life, however, one seldom saw certainties.

Ulfgar waited expectantly. He was wringing his hands.

I looked to Runa. She looked concerned.

"Lass," said Ulfgar, "I've lived for 500 years. I want to rejoin my friends, who are doubtless in Sovngarde."

"Runa," I said, "I don't want to show you the wrong thing. I don't want to give you the wrong lessons. I intended to show you how to do good."

"Rashelle, I am not a child. Though I know that what I did was wrong, I can see that in some situations, one must slay."

I nodded.

"Ulfgar, are you sure?"

"Aye lass, I am sure."

I hesitated.

"Lass, if you do this, it won't be murder: I will fight you! I will not make it easy for you. I will slay you both, if I can. It will be a real, fair, fight!"

I said nothing.

"Know that I will not force you do to it," he continued. "I will not attack you if you decline."

"Runa, what do you think?"

"Rashelle, I did not want to mention this but ... the book of the Ice Witches also makes mention of Sovngarde. It says the same thing that this little book does: death in battle is the way. Those that they could not heal were hoped to at least reach Sovngarde."

I shook my head, as if to clear it. I felt enmeshed in in a web of Nordic death wish insanity.

"No. This is madness. Come, Runa."

I looked at Ulfgar. The weight of 500 years was visible in his sad eyes.

Damnit.

"OK."

I stepped back and drew my sword. I heard the snick as Runa drew her dagger.

Quicker than I had expected, Ulfren had his Nordic claymore out and was on the attack.

I parried his swing. Runa was moving sideways, obviously intending to attack him from the side. Taking advantage of the rebound from my parry, his blade whipped through the air and came close to hitting her.

With surprising agility for one his size, he darted away from us.

Runa was already charging for him. I stood still, in an uncharacteristic state of hesitation.

"I've fought many of your kind!" he said as his sword bit into Runa's side. There was a crackle of a shock spell. She gasped and fell.

"No!"

Without thought, fire came to me; a stream of flame that burned into Ulfgar.

I ran towards him, Chrysamere already in motion.

He blocked my swing and got one of his own in. It bounced off of my cuirass. He hit me with that frost spell, the one that all Nords seem to be born with. He didn't know about my cold affinity.

"Now this is fighting!" he said, joyously.

My claymore missed his head but my kick found its target. His armor protected him but he was still knocked down.

I swung my sword. He parried with his claymore.

His foot lashed out as he rolled to the side. The kick missed me. Down came Chrysamere. Sparks flew as it struck his blade.

He bellowed and tried to scurry away. My sword smashed against his weapon. I did it again and he parried again. I kicked his hand but he maintained his grip on his sword.

He rolled to the side again. He was trying to get up but I was not going to let him. Chrysamere smashed into his raised arm, cutting through the armor.

He howled his rage and swung his claymore. I parried.

Down came my sword. It split his raised weapon in two. His eyes widened in surprise ... or perhaps realization.

I thrust down, punching through his armor and into his heart.

"T-Thank you ... " he whispered. Then he expired.

I dropped my sword and ran to Runa. She was still alive but barely conscious. I cast a healing spell: there wasn't enough time for a potion. She opened her eyes.

"Is he?"

"Yes," I said as I handed her a potion, "Drink this. My spell didn't heal you all the way."

She did.

I helped her up. There was a large gash in her tunic: she would have to go back to wearing the fur shirt.

"I hope he reached Sovngarde," she said.

I retrieved my sword.

"Thank you both!" said a directionless voice in the air, "That book was correct!"

The voice was that of Ulfgar, the man I had just slain.

"Rashelle, I am here, my friends are here. The hall is glorious! At last, I have reached Sovngarde! Thank you lass, thank you both!"

Runa and I stared silently at each other for a moment.

"I guess Sovngarde is real," I said, just to break the silence.

"We did good?" she asked.

"I ... I think we did."

After Runa changed her shirt, we left the cave. There was a fourth stone that had not been there before. I approached the new stone. I reached a hand out and touched it. Runa followed suit.

Once again, I heard Ulfgar's voice. "I am eternally grateful to both of you. At any time, you may touch each of the stones to receive a blessing."

I drew my hand away and said nothing. The man had apparently reached Sovngarde, yet I could not bring myself to feel happy about it.

We headed northwest. This was an arbitrary decision, as I had no plans, nowhere I needed to be. Southwest would have taken us to Raven rock, but, despite a nagging feeling that I needed to check on things at the colony, I did not want to take Runa there just yet.

The sun was setting when we found ourselves at the entrance to a Nord barrow. I looked to Runa and she nodded. She knew me this well by now.

After we cleared the tomb of undead, I inspected the main burial chamber. This one lacked a stalhrim coffin. There was a skeleton laid out on a slab of rock in the center of the room. The skeleton wore armor which appeared ancient, yet in good condition. It seemed to be some form of steel.

Laid across the armored skeleton was a spear that bore the glow of an enchantment. I placed a hand near the spear. I felt a spell for cold damage, weakness to cold, and armor disintegration.

Also on the slab was a book. I picked it up, to see that on its cover were Nordic runes. I passed it to Runa.

"Ooo, another book in the Old Tongue!"

"What's this one about?"

"'The Fall Of The Snow Prince,' according to the cover."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Let us sit down and then I shall read it to you."

I nodded. We sat. She read it out loud. The pauses to translate into Tamrielic slowed her down, but I was not in a hurry.

The book chronicled the Battle of the Moesring, one of the last battles of the Nords against the Elves. I recalled Ulfgar mentioning that they had driven the Elves from Skyrim. Such warfare had apparently also spilled over into Solstheim. I could not imagine Elves ever having lived here in this cold climate.

Runa read on. This particular tale focused on the Snow Prince, a pale elf who was "unlike any other of his kind". As I listened, I began to realize that this could well have been an Ice Elf. Interesting. I knew a certain Mer in Raven Rock would would be fascinated by this: the book agreed with his theory that the Falmer were Mer, not rieklings.

The Snow Prince, whose name was not ever mentioned, appeared from nowhere and led the Elves against the Nords. He had fought heroically but was finally killed ... by a child!

Once he was slain, the battle turned and the Nords wiped out the remaining Elves.

Though I am not a Mer, I felt some bitterness. Focus Rashelle, it was centuries ago and it no longer matters.

Out of an odd sort of respect for a capable, valiant and strange enemy, the Nords had placed his remains in a Nord barrow, as if he were a Nord warrior. The only difference with this burial was the omission of the stalhrim coffin: stalhrim was never to be used for non-Nords.

Interesting.

The skeleton in the center, as it was not encased in stalhrim, had to be that of the Snow Prince.

"Thank you for reading that to me, Runa."

She nodded.

"I know an Altmer in Raven Rock who believes that his ancestors were Ice Elves. He would be very interested in this book."

"Might as well take it", said Runa, "No one here is going to read it."

She handed the book to me.

"Thank you."

"Are we going to Raven Rock, then?"

"Yes, in the morning. This tomb will be a good place for us to sleep."



In the morning, we left the tomb and headed south, towards the colony.

"Runa, you've lived here for some time. Maybe you can answer a question that I have a about horkers."

"Go on."

"I Have always gotten along fine with them. I've gone to the lake several times and played with them. They're so adorable."

She remained silent.

"When I was a berserker ... "

I winced at the memory.

"... They attacked me. Not just one, but several horkers. Do you know why?"

"Horkers are excellent judges of character. They can 'read' you better than any other animal can. They picked up on your berserker state."

"Oh."

"It is said that horkers know your soul."

She sighed.

"What is wrong?"

"I used to play with them."

I said nothing.

"After I made my first kill for the Ice Witches, the horkers all shied away from me. I cannot play with them any more: they know."

"Runa, I'm sorry."

"It was my own fault ... but I regret, aye, I do."

A pack of plague wolves interrupted our discussion. We dispatched them, but Runa caught Yellow Tick. The symptoms manifested almost immediately. I cast a Cure Disease spell on her and we resumed our journey.

I saw a familiar mound of snow: we had reached the entrance to the dwelling of Kjolver. Not wanting to deal with that crazy woman again, I hastened along southwards.

A bear attack or two later, we reached a dark grey stone wall. It loomed over us. I was taken aback for an moment before the realization hit me: this was the now-completed north wall of Raven Rock!

I turned left and we followed the wall until it turned right. I followed this until it ended. I turned right and we faced the colony. It had grown considerably during my absence and had become a full-sized town.

Runa looked a little bit nervous. She'd been living in in the wilderness for too long.

"I thought you were originally from a city in Skyrim?"

"Yes, but it has been a while."

"I won't swear you to silence this time, but try to let me handle everything. Just follow my lead, OK?"

"OK."

She looked relieved.

We wound our way between the buildings and reached my house. I spelled the lock open. Runa raised an eyebrow.

"It's my house, but I gave the key to someone."

We entered.

Someone had placed several cloth bags by the bed. Their lumpy shape suggested rocks. I crouched beside one of them and opened it. I looked inside and was rewarded with the sight of stalhrim. The bags were full of stalhrim! The men must have had brought it here from the mine.

"Rashelle, you're cooing."

"It's like ice, but it never melts," I said as I lifted a piece out and held it up.

"I didn't realize that any outlanders knew how to make stalhrim."

"We don't. As far as I know, nobody knows how to make it any more. These pieces came from a buried tomb that the miners discovered."

I placed the piece back in the bag. It was time to see a Mer about a book. We left my house and I cast a spell to lock the door.

Runa and I entered the bar. We threaded our way through the crowd. Apronia waved to me. I smiled and waved back.

Given his height, it was easy to spot Athellor. Altmer are the tallest of Mer and always tend to stand out. Runa in tow, I approached him.

"Ah Rashelle, how are you? How goes the adventuring?"

"It's been very interesting," I said as I sat down.

Runa grinned.

"This is my friend Runa. Runa, Athellor."

"Pleased to meet you."

"I found something, Athellor, that seems to back up your theories."

From my pack I produced the book.

"It's in ancient Nordic, but Runa here can read it to you."

"No need, I learned the language some time ago."

I raised an eyebrow. That was unusual. Most Nords don't even know it any more, let alone an Altmer.

Runa uttered a phrase in Nordic. The hairs on back of my neck went up: that language always sounds like spell-casting to me.

He replied in the same tongue, at a rapid pace. They excitedly shot phrases, in Nordic, at each other. I left them to it and went to the bar.

I returned with two maztes and placed one in front of Runa.

"I am sorry Rashelle," said the Altmer, "My enthusiasm sometimes overcomes my manners."

I smiled and took a sip. Ahhhh, mazte: there's a nice safe normal beverage. I resolved to have Svenja order some for Thirsk, if things there ever got back to normal.

"I've quickly looked through this book and it does indeed prove that the Falmer were Mer and that they were here in Solstheim. Thank you."

He placed a small bag on the table. It clinked.

I raised an eyebrow.

"As promised, your reward for assisting me in this matter."

"Oh yes, thank you."

I smiled and took the bag. I didn't want it but, as I've said before, people get weird when I refuse to take their money. I handed the bag to Runa. She silently accepted it.

We drained our maztes and then departed from the Altmer's table.

As we moved towards the door, I saw Falco. He was trying to catch my eye. I turned and led Runa towards him.

"Hello Rashelle, who's your friend?"

"Runa, Falco. Falco, Runa."

Greetings exchanged, I informed Falco as to my lack of progress on the werewolf investigation.

"It's a shame, but it it is heartening to know that the Skaal are not behind it."

"Good point. Have there been any more werewolf attacks here?"

"Fortunately, no."

I nodded.

"Err, Rashelle ..."

He looked at Runa. He obviously wanted to discuss business but was hesitant to do so with her around.

"Do not worry, Falco. We can discuss business."

"We have a problem."

I smiled.

Now this was a good chapter. It was a thrilling battle with Ulfgar, and you'd surely not expect a 400-years-old guy to fight like that... And the quest about Falmer was finished. I actually never did it, seeing as I was too occupied with other important business... Though the book sounds quite interesting. Should read it one day.



No, seriously? My, that's unexpected, because it's not like you ever had any problems before... >.>

Gaius stole the words right from my mouth. Excellent update.

hah! Amusing as always!....that phrase.."We have a problem" from Falco...why it´s just hilarious! So when will Rash take a few days off? I mean she´s working so hard, no breaks, nothing! She should just go to a nice place...or her house and ,,well read some books or something! The reason I say this is that I, myself work too much and if I for once manage to take a break...well it makes wonders.....

Now I do suspect you have something coming....oh no..not resting! ha...Falco has a problem.....

What'd be really funny is if she just said; "Yeah, tell me something I don't know." and walked off. It wouldn't make much sense, but it'd be funny.