The Companions had their reservations about Nora's new partner and she really couldn't blame them. She was small, smaller than Nora, and wore what looked like chic pirate clothing. They eyed the twin ebony blades on Recorder's side and the bow of the same material on her back.

 

“At least she's a rich novice,” said Aela, looking over the woman. “I have reservations about her choice in protective wear though.”

 

Aela lost her reservations when a score of bandits came out of the woods to confront them. The Companions and Nora went on the offensive immediately. And Recorder sprang into action with a maniacal laugh, all flashing black blades as she danced around a trio of bandits, leaving them in pieces on the ground. An arrow struck her in the chest and miraculously the soft clothing prevented it from penetrating.

 

Must be nanoarmor, thought Nora, no longer concerned with the woman's lack of protection.

 

“You know how to handle those blades,” said Vilkas in admiration after they had cleaned out the bandits of everything of value.

 

“I was trained by the best,” replied Recorder, wiping the blades on the clothing of the dead before sheathing them.

 

“Who?” asked Farkus. “I've never seen that style before, and I've seen them all.”

 

“You wouldn't know them,” said Recorder.

 

“I have to tell you, Nora,” said Aela, her tone indicating a topic she really didn't want to broach. “But Kodlak will not let us go with you to High Hrothgar. Too many contracts, not enough Companions. Though we would be proud to welcome you into our ranks, it would mean taking on the jobs he had approved.”

 

Nora really didn't want to lose her friends, but she needed to go talk to the Greybeards and find out what she was capable of. She imagined them a group of old karate masters, meditating, performing katas, doing nothing that didn't further their art. No one could tell her anything about them, except that they lived alone on the slopes of Tamriel's highest mountain, and that they didn't speak.

 

“Well, I need to get to High Hrothgar, though I could see myself joining you in the future.”

 

“There's still the initiation mission,” said Vilkas. “You have to complete that before you can fully join. But I think you'll have no trouble with that.”

 

“You mean that dungeon crawl doesn't count?” she asked, shocked and confused.

 

“It does not,” said Aela, shrugging her shoulders. “Kodlak decides what counts, and he hands out the missions. But not to worry. You'll be up to it when you decide to join us.”

 

“So I need to get some more followers,” said Nora, thinking on how she could go about doing that.

 

“It will be easy,” said Vilkas, patting her on the back. “There are plenty of warriors out there who would sell their souls to follow a hero.”

 

“And how do I pay them?” thought Nora, feeling a sense of panic.

 

“With loot,” said Aela. “The best way to pay.”

 

I can do this, thought Nora. She had formed a good party when she first started out in the Commonwealth. Heather, Barbara, Valkyrie. All had followed her without a promise of compensation. Then there had been Nick, McCready, Piper, others. All onboard to help her, as long as she helped them with their own quests. She could do the same here. Mutual back scratching.

 

“I think the first thing I need to do is buy a horse when we get back,” she announced. The Jarl had lent her one of his, but from what she understood the dragon crisis and the civil war had strained his coffers, and she didn't want to become a parasite. She would pay her own way if she could.

 

She said goodbye to her friends at the stables and went to find the owner. She had several thousand septims to her name, plus the gear she could sell. One set of armor she had picked up in the barrow was better than what she was wearing, so War Maidens could make her an offer on her current set.

 

Nora didn't find the stable master. Not immediately. What she did find was a naked woman sleeping in one of the stalls. She tried to leave before the woman awoke but it was too late. The blue eyes opened, the freckled face frowned, and Nora wondered if it was her fate to meet up with crazy women on this planet.

 

“Who are you?” she asked as the woman stumbled to her feet. “And how did you end up like this?”

 

“Like what?” asked the confused woman. She looked down at herself, eyes widening. “Not again. Why does this keep happening to me?”

 

Why indeed, thought Nora, catching the strong smell of mead from the woman.

 

“Oh, I swear, I'm not always like this. Last thing I remember I was emptying the purses of a couple of men, letting them ply me with alcohol.”

 

“Well, it looks like they plied you well. Did they both...”

 

“Oh,” said the woman, smiling now. “I didn't let them have me. Now, what would be the fun of that when I could simply drink them into poverty.”

 

So this one was a gold digger and a tease. Nora found herself getting angry. She had never liked that kind of woman, and was about to turn away when the plea came.

 

“I want to go with you on adventure, Dragonborn,” she said. “My name is Sofia, and I'm very good with a sword. And with magic. You need someone like me.”

 

Nora wasn't sure about that. As far as she knew this Sofia was a drunk and a tease, with the ability to get into lots of trouble.

 

“You could use her as a meat shield,” whispered Aela, standing behind her. “Put her to some use.”

 

“I heard that,” said Sofia, eyes narrowing while fire sprang to existence in her left hand.

 

“Good ears,” said Aela with a laugh. “And I would put away your spells unless you want to become my practice dummy.”

 

Nora was afraid that she was going to have a fight on her hands if she didn't do something. So she did the only thing she could think of.

 

“I'll take you with me if you promise to obey my every order.”

 

“Well, not every order I hope,” said Sofia. “I'm kidding,” she cried, raising her hands in front of her. “I'll do whatever you say. Now, do you have some clothes for me?”

 

Nora, hoping she wouldn't regret it, pulled a blouse and skirt from her pack, then went on to find the stable master.

 

“Her name's Queen Alfsigr,” said the stable master, showing a beautiful black mount to Nora. “Course, once you buy her you can name her whatever you want.”

 

Nora had fallen for the horse at first sight. Now to see how much it would set her back.

 

“Two thousand septims, and that's firm.”

 

“Two thousand septims. That's an awful lot.”

 

“You aren't going to find a better deal in Whiterun.”

 

“Well, I'm going to have to think about this.”

 

“You think about it, my Lady,” said the stable master. “Queenie here will be waiting for you. But not forever.”

 

Nora thought there was one more she could add to her party. While Sofia said she was good with magic, a College of Winterhold dropout, and she could throw some spells, she really wanted an accomplished mage with her. And she had just the candidate.

 

“You keep me in wine and I'm yours,” said Eldawyn, slurring her words slightly.

 

The beautiful High Elf struck Nora as a functional drunk, able to perform as well when in her cups as most people could sober. At least she hoped so.

 

“I won't be able to provide armor for some time,” admitted Nora, looking at the robes that would not stop anything.

 

“Quite alright. It really is. Mages get used to defending themselves with spells, after all. And I can teach you some fire magic while we're on the road.”

 

“Did I hear you are going adventuring,” said the totally gorgeous redhead that approached their table. “I can fight, and I can heal, and kill your enemies with fire as well.”

 

The young woman looked too damned good to be a warrior. Gorgeous features, long curled red hair, blue eyes. She was just too striking to be good for anything but eye candy. And she had no armor, at least now while out at the tavern.

 

“Toccata, dear,” said Eldawyn. “We're going into dungeons, I am sure. You'll get your clothes dirty.”

 

“I've probably delved more dungeons than you have, Elda,” said the beauty, smirking. “And while I may not be your equal in burning things, I am more than your match in healing. And with a sword.”

 

“Agreed,” said Eldawyn after a moment's thought. “I would take her if I were you.”

 

Five women, thought Nora, who would have preferred to have at least one big strong Nord tank in the mix. Still, she had adventured in the Commonwealth with an all-girl team, so why not? And at least all of these girls seemed to be intelligent, and capable of taking care of themselves. Or so she hoped.

 

“Okay. We'll check everyone out tomorrow in the practice yard of Jorrvaskr. I want to see what everyone has, and what we need.”

*     *     *

The next morning found the six gathered in the practice yard of Jorrvaskr, to the amusement of the gathered Companions.

 

“If I walked into an inn and saw this company, I would figure I had died and gone to Sovngarde,” said a laughing Vilkas.

 

“Don't you laugh at the Dragonborn,” screeched Recorder, her hands on her sword hilts.

 

“Keep that little mad woman away from me,” growled Vilkas, raising his hands in front of his face.

 

Nora had to admit that she had a beautiful party. But she wasn't sure if she had a combat party or the finalists for a beauty pageant. Warriors were supposed to be thick, strong and scarred. The women all had some scars, very few, but Nora put that down to the magic healing of this world. Recorder had some scars, and though the woman had told her the Academy could make them go away, she considered them badges of honor. It was impossible for Nora to keep scars. Her metabolism healed them away within days without even a trace.

 

“Well, these people are laughing at you,” said   Nora, “so let’s see what you have.”

 

The armor didn't impress, what little they had. Elda had none, only robes, while Recorder was still wearing her pirate's outfit, more suited to a party than a battle. Sofia had on the clothes Nora had given her, while Toccata was still dressed in her finery. Lydia was the only one in full armor, good plate, round shield on her arm.

 

“Okay,” said Sofia, stepping forward. “I'll take on anyone in this yard. So, what are you waiting for?”

 

Nora suspected the woman was still a little drunk. Elda definitely was, but Nora didn't want to test her melee prowess. She was her glass cannon and wasn't expected to get into close action.

 

“I'll take you,” said the young recruit known as Ria. Nora had seen her fighting in the yard and thought she was a competent warrior, if not very flashy. A good test.

 

Ria went on the offensive, not allowing Sofia to set herself. It wouldn't have mattered, as Sofia knocked the questing blade aside, stepped in and shield bashed the woman to the ground, then stood over her with her sword point hovering over Ria's throat.

 

“Do you yield?”

 

“I yield,” said Ria, “though I don't think your actions were honorable.”

 

“Nor were yours, Ria,” admonished Kodlak. “She was not set when you attacked. This is not a battlefield, but a practice yard, and opponents must have a chance to get ready before the attack.”

 

Ria nodded, her face flushed in shame, and Nora hoped the woman didn't hold a grudge.

 

“I guess it's my turn,” said Toccata, stepping forward. She didn't have a shield, and Nora knew that she wanted a free hand for magic.

 

“I'll test you,” said Aela, stepping forward and drawing her blade, a steel longsword with no enchantments. “And no magic.”

 

Toccata looked crestfallen but nodded in agreement. “Very well.”

 

The two women crossed swords, then stepped back and went at each other. Nora sucked in a breath when she realized they were both wielding sharpened blades, their battle weapons, and a miss-strike could result in a serious injury. Then she remembered that this was a land of magic, and Danica was standing by. Only a death blow would be serious, and she had a suspicion that to a priest of Danica's stature even that would not be final.

 

Aela struck, Toccata blocked, then returned the stroke. The blades clanged together for ten minutes, each woman varying her attack and meeting a sword block. They seemed evenly matched, though Aela was definitely the faster. Eventually one had to miss a block, and Aela's blade cut into Toccata's shoulder, blood spurting.

 

The spell-sword fell to her knees, dropping her blade and clamping a hand to her shoulder. Danica was there, pouring healing magic into the shoulder, the wound closing before their eyes.

 

“You are good,” said Aela. “With some practice you will be my match.” She looked over at Nora. “I approve of this one. She will serve you well.”

*     *     *

“You I can equip with some fine armor, Thane,” said Balgruuf, looking down on her from his throne. “Lydia already has the armor of a Housecarl. But these others will have to make do with guard armor.”

 

The manner in which the Jarl said others made Nora think that he didn't approve of her party. Well, too bad. It was hers to lead, not his.

 

“While I think the guard armor is very good for guarding,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I don't think it is the best for the battles we have before us.”

 

“Then do what other adventurers have done,” said the Jarl, smiling. “Take bounties, loot the bandit lairs, and earn the coin you need to equip your followers.”

 

Nora realized she would get nothing else here. She needed a home as well, and had been offered Breezehome for a price she couldn't afford. It was kind of small, but it would do until she found something better. Except for the coin, and it seemed that the people of Skyrim had never heard of the concept of credit.

 

I ought to tell you to just go to hell. What would you do if your savior simply quit? That was a childish response, and Nora thought she was above that. These people were desperate, and they needed her. Just because they didn't cater to her every whim was no reason to abandon them.

 

“I suggest that your people do not use the surcoats of Whiterun,” said the Jarl, looking over at one of his own guards. “And paint your shields.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because Skyrim is not unified at this time. And while no one is at war with me, officially, there are some who are disappointed that I will not take a side. So, best to wear nothing that announces allegiances. The Legion will not bother you if you don't declare for the Stormcloaks, nor will Ulfric if he doesn't see you as a pawn to the Imperials. So play the political neutral. And remember to go see the Greybeards.”

 

Nora did plan on doing that. She wanted to master the voice, and had been told that the only way to do that was to seek the advice of the masters. As far as the civil war went she didn't have a dog in that fight. Not yet. She would find out more about the opposing viewpoints before making a choice. The Thalmor were a different matter altogether. It had been hate at first sight with them, seeing them arrest an innocent family, husband, wife and children, and lead them away in bindings. All because the damned elves didn't like one of the gods the humans worshiped. They reminded her of the Brotherhood of Steel before Sarah Lyons took over. Or maybe the Nazis of Earth history. But much worse than either. That was one faction she would never agree with, and she had made a promise to herself to thwart them at every turn. But only from the shadows. She couldn't afford the fallout from the Imperials of challenging the Thalmor openly, though she was sure Ulfric would love her actions.

 

“So, Dragonborn, which bounty will you go after first?”

 

“I'm thinking Silver Moon Camp,” she said.

 

Balgruuf whistled. “That might not be the best choice for your first bounty,” he said. “Maybe a smaller one, to blood your party. But it's your call.”

 

And I made it, she thought. After all, she had warriors and mages at her back. What could go wrong?

*     *     *

The next day they were on the road, or more accurately through the wilderness. Balgruuf had bought some of the bandit armor she had brought back as her share, plus an ancient sword that turned out to be some kind of long sought-after artifact. It was two handed, so of no use to any of her people. Balgruuf paid her half its worth, and the twins had agreed that it was a good price. Not sure how the economy of this world worked she had been forced to take their word for it. Still, she had gathered eight thousand coins when all was said and done and had immediately purchased three horses, for herself, Sofia and Elda. Toccata, Recorder and Lydia already had mounts, so everyone would ride. She had wished she could buy a pack animal, but Eldawyn had suggested that one or more of them could walk on the way back if need be so they could carry out the loot.

 

“And we need wine,” said Eldawyn. “Lots and lots of wine.”

 

“We have quite enough water skins,” countered Lydia, holding one up.

 

That was the wonder of this land to Nora. There was plenty of water, at least in the places that weren't frozen solid. They could still get water in those places, with some work. They also packed two large tents and enough furs to sleep on. Nora had decided that they would not need arctic clothing since they would be staying in the lowland forests.

 

“We still need wine,” argued the Altmer, shaking her head, green eyes glaring at the Housecarl. “It gets cold at night and wine warms the blood.”

 

“Get her some wine, Lydia,” said Nora, turning back to Eldawyn. “And I will ration it to you and the others. I don't want you going into battle drunk.”

 

Eldawyn looked hurt but she didn't argue. She had shared the story about how she had traded her last healing potion for wine, a decision that had almost cost her dearly, which gave Nora some new reservations about the elfs drinking.

 

The forest was as beautiful as ever. Colorful leaves on the deciduous trees of the lowlands, transitioning to the needle leaf trees of the higher lands. There was snow on the ground in places. Not much, but enough to remind Nora that this land was subarctic through and through. She had to be careful that she didn't succumb to hypothermia.

 

No radiation, though, thought the leader, feasting her eyes on the wildlife. Beautiful stags, fox stalking small prey, bears in the distance. And flowers everywhere. It was distracting. Too distracting, and if not for the others she might have fallen to the bandit party that included some very good archers indeed.

 

“Watch out,” yelled Recorder, raising her shield and intercepting the arrow that was heading straight for Nora's throat.

 

Another arrow came whizzing in, bouncing from Nora’s helm with a clang. She spurred the horse forward, giving them a swiftly moving target. The others pulled their horses up and jumped from their saddles, covering under shields as they ran toward the bandits. Who had abandoned their ambush and were pouring out of the woods, weapons at the ready.

 

Nora jumped from her horse, landing agilely on her feet and taking off at a sprint. She was mindful of the Companions' advice, but she wanted to close, to even the odds as fast as possible. One of the trio she chose had a large war hammer, the others axes, but only one had a shield. Her speed caught them off guard, and the war hammer missed badly as she moved past him and slammed into the shield of the center bandit. The man fell head over heels and Nora leapt up and over his body. She spun as she hit the ground, and her sword took the other swordsman in the left arm, slicing deep.

 

The man with the hammer stepped forward, launching into a powerful swing would have crushed her skull if it hit.

 

“Fus,” she shouted, sending unrelenting force into the bandit, bowling him over to land on the ground. She hadn't expected to do too much damage with the shout with only one word at her command, but he lay still.

 

The man with the shield was trying to get up, but a thrust of her sword through his spine made sure that was the last act he would ever attempt. She spun and swung at the other swordsman, her blow coming in too fast for the bleeding man to deal with. A strike to his shoulder, then a spin that brought her edge around and into the neck of the bandit. His head leapt from his body and the decapitated corpse fell to the ground.

 

Nora turned at the sound behind her, to find the hammer man was struggling to his feet and grabbing up his weapon. She took a quick step forward and thrust her sword through the top of his shoulder and into his chest cavity. The man grunted, blood fountained out, and he fell limp to the forest floor.

 

Nora shook her head and took a deep breath, the sounds of the other combats finally breaking into her concentration. There was the clanging of arms, a few screams, and an explosion. None of the voices were recognizable, which she took as a good sign. She caught sight of Toccata taking down a bandit with her blade, while her open hand sent a stream of flame into another. Sofia was at her side, sending the blue of cold into a bandit who was fading fast. Eldawyn was sending a second fireball into a trio of bandits who were already burning alive. The second ball hit with an explosive sound and the bandits crumpled to the ground. She couldn't see Lydia or Recorder, but the sounds of maniacal laughing let her know where one of that pair was. The sounds of multiple blades slashing and the screams of stricken men told her who was winning.

 

Recorder came walking out of the woods, slinging blood off of her blades with a disgusted look on her face. “I think we should let the skeevers have the rest,” she said.

 

“And Lydia?”

 

“Here, my Thane,” said Lydia, walking slowly behind Recorder. “This madwoman seemed to have a death wish.”

 

“I knew you were at my back, Lydia. And watching you take down that pair coming in from my side showed my confidence wasn't misplaced.”

 

We won our first battle, thought Nora in triumph. She guessed they had taken down three times their number in bandits, with no serious injuries to themselves. Magic and force of arms had been too much for the poor bastards to handle. Of course, these bandits hadn't had any magic users, and that might have made things much more difficult.

 

“Let the looting begin,” said a giggling Recorder.

 

They left the clearing with a couple of thousand gold pieces, some decent armor, and a good number of swords, bows and arrows. If the camp had better stuff they might discard these leavings for something better. But they didn't want to leave stuff they might regret getting rid of and not have the means to find out in the woods.

 

“We need to think about doing some soul trapping.” said Eldawyn, bending down to pull some jewelry off one of the bandits. “These animals aren't going to any afterlife worth anything. Might as well get something out of their souls.”

 

“I thought you only trapped white souls,” said Nora in anger and shock. Farengar had explained the whole process of soul trapping. Most soul gems could only accept white souls, but the black gems would hold those of humans and mer. Not the entire soul. A remnant would survive and be consigned to the Soul Cairn, Tamriel's version of hell as far as she could tell.

 

“Normally, yes. But these are bandits, the scum of Tamriel. They deserve no better, and we can use the soul energy in enchanting.”

 

“No,” said Nora, hands on hips. “Killing them is one thing. Taking souls is going to far.”

 

“And here I thought you didn't believe in souls,” said the Elf, returning the glare. “You told me that first night we shared that you had lost all religious belief.”

 

“And I still don't believe in an afterlife on Earth. But hell, you have magic. And Gods who reveal themselves. So why not an afterlife. So no. If you want to be a part of this, only white souls. Some of them are pretty powerful, right? Grand souls?”

 

“Yes, if you want to attack mammoths and such,” said a frowning Eldawyn. “And you take the souls of dragons, don't you? They are sentient creatures, and pretty much immortal.”

 

“Because that's the only way to make sure the motherfuckers stay dead,” yelled Nora, glaring at the elf.

 

She stormed away and started stowing weapons and armor on her horse. The rest of their trip would be walking, leading the heavily burdened horses behind them. Eldawyn sulked for the rest of the day, and Nora let her own pride control her. At least the Altmer hadn't turned around and headed home. Nora wanted the mage with her as she had already proven her worth. But she wouldn't brook necromancy, which most Nords thought included the trapping of human souls. She was supposed to be on the side of good, wasn't she, and taking a soul, destroying the essence of a sentient being, was the epitome of evil, right?

 

They pitched their large tents in a sheltered area, only approachable from one point, and settled in for the night. Sitting around a banked fire the wine bottles were passed around in celebration of a victory, though Nora had cautioned them to avoid drunkenness. She set the guard shifts, herself included, two up at all times, and crawled into her bedroll.

 

When she was woken for her shift she found Eldawyn up and waiting. The Altmer looked like she wanted to talk, and had arranged to change shifts with Recorder so she could speak, so Nora motioned to the fire and took a seat.

 

“I want to tell you how sorry I am that we had an argument,” said the Altmer, her words without a trace of slur for the first time that Nora could remember. “Soul trapping is a part of my business. It lets me power the enchantments I make at the Skyforge.”

 

Elda had explained earlier that she had come to Whiterun to have access to the forge, the only truly magical source of metal production in Skyrim, and the producer of the best weapons and armor. And she and her original partners had gone out soul trapping. Mostly wolves, bears and giant spiders. Her comrades had fallen in these dangerous hunts, and she had found herself alone and afraid to go out on her own. Until now.

 

“I know soul trapping humans and mer is evil,” said Eldawyn, staring into the fire. “Not that I'm as good as you. I have evil deep inside me. Part of my heritage. And something else I really don't want to talk about.”

 

“You'll tell me when you’re ready,” said Nora gently.

 

“Why do you have to be so damned understanding?” asked Eldawyn in a hiss, tearful eyes looking into Nora's. “I can see why you became a damned politician. You're good at this.”

 

Nora laughed, then sobered as she saw that Eldawyn took it as a slight.

 

“I'm sorry. Yeah, I was a politician. And I lied with the best of them when on covert missions. But I never lied to my own people. Not once. I don't intend to start a trend of dishonesty with you or any of the others. And yes, the whole concept of necromancy makes me uncomfortable deep down.”

 

“I know. And I want to explain the whole process to you so you'll know what you're dealing with.”

 

“Okay, but don't think I will change my mind. But I'll listen.”

 

“Fair enough,” said the lovely Altmer, green eyes looking into Nora's. “Earlier you said something about the destruction of a soul. That is an oversimplification. Only a part of their soul energy goes into the gem. A large part, of course, enough to power the most energetic of enchantments. But some of them still exists and passes on to the afterlife. A horrible afterlife, to be sure. The Soul Cairn, a plane of Oblivion, eternally dark, a horrible place. So yes, the reality is even worse than total destruction, and they linger eternally in, well Hell is the only word for it. No Sovngarde, no Elysium fields, nothing but morose existence.”

 

“And this is what you want to do to the souls of our enemies?” asked a shocked Nora. The whole idea horrified Nora. On Earth she had reconciled herself to nonexistence after death. Or at best upload into a computer, or a synth. Here she had latched onto the idea of an afterlife, a place of calm and joy that she could look forward to. Whether the mead halls of the Nords or the various paradises of the elves. The idea that someone could trap her soul and send her to a version of hell, no matter her actions in life? That seemed totally unfair to someone who had been raised on the idea that you reaped what you sowed.

 

“Some of them deserve it, yes,” said Eldawyn, her eyes now fierce. “For most, no. But others are not so discriminating, and we are going to find filled black soul gems in our travels. We can leave them, discard them, and the souls of their original owners will still suffer in the Soul Cairn. Or we can use them for our own purposes. And use them to power our enchantments.”

 

“It's a lot to think about,” said Nora after a moment's thought. “Let me consider it over the next couple of days.”

 

“Fair enough,” said Eldawyn, a faint smile coming to her face. “Now, enough of this. Now that we've kissed and made up, why don't you tell me about the world you left, and I'll tell you a little about mine.”

 

So through the night they talked, not even bothering to wake up the next shift. Nora told the elf about Earth, a land devoid of magic, but with technology that mimicked it in many ways. The healing arts of the doctors. Vertibirds and power armor. Supermutants and Deathclaws, and the horror of feral ghouls. The thing that interested the elf the most was teleportation. There were actually four known ways to teleport, each with its own advantages and limitations. And she told the elf of her hope that her people might be able to use some of that technology to return her home.

 

“Your world sounds wonderful, and awful,” said Eldawyn, looking into her eyes. “I guess our world must seem the same to you.”

 

“So, tell me about the Isles.”

 

“I've never actually been there,” said Eldawyn, again staring into the fire. “I was raised in Cyrodil, by a family that adhered to the Thalmor philosophy, at first. But my father was a good man, and he soon came to realize the evil of the Thalmor. How they broke up families in order to impose their own will. They considered Talos worship to be a great evil, the elevation of a mortal to a god circumventing the destiny of the elven peoples. He came to believe that Talos was a god, and turned from a persecutor to an adherent. He saw how the shrines of Talos healed people as well as those of any other god. And then his Thalmor masters caught on to his blasphemy and it was time for him to pay.”

 

“What happened?” asked Nora in a whisper, imagining a golden skinned child caught up in a world she didn't understand, only wanting her mommy and daddy to be okay and there with her.

 

“The Thalmor took away my father and mother. Father was an accomplished mage, and had established a conduit to get me away. One second I was there, screaming for them to not send me away. The next I was with some Khajiit who had agreed to see me to safety, half a continent away. They placed me with an Altmer family that didn't subscribe to the racist policies of the Thalmor. And there I grew, never knowing what had become of my mother and father. But I was sure the, what was the word you used, motherfuckers, had done their worst. Torture, then death. Perhaps soul trapping them and sending them to an afterlife in the Soul Cairn. Eternal torture. Motherfuckers.”

 

“I'm so sorry,” said Nora, one hand rubbing the back of her friend. “To not know. But I guess you no longer subscribe to the superiority of the Altmer.”

 

“Oh no,” said the woman in mock horror. “I still think we are superior to you short lived people, but I think you have your uses.”

Eldawyn leaned over to kiss Nora on the lips. Nora returned the kiss for a moment, then broke away. Eldawyn gave her a questioning look.

 

“Business before pleasure, my dear. We're on guard, and it only took one time being surprised in the middle of sex to set the lesson in stone.”

 

“You'll have to tell me that story some time,” laughed Eldawyn, looking into Nora's face. “And we'll have to get reacquainted back in Whiterun, yes?”

 

“It's a date. And remember, this short-lived human has already lived longer than you, and I might just outlive any elf that has ever been.”

 

“I forgot about that, though you have even said that you have only had thirty years of consciousness. But the overall time existing may have something to do with your unusual store of magicka.”

 

The sun rose, the night over, and Sofia and Lydia had questions in their eyes as to why they hadn't been woken for their shift.