Sister Miriam’s journal
24 Last Seed - 02 Hearthfire 4E201
Chapter III: “The Last Days of Summer”
 

[[ previously on Miri and the Wolf | start from the beginning ]]

 

 

The next few days are the headiest days of Miri’s young life. Hasteinn picks bounties from the bounty board or from Hulda, and they head out to one bandit hideout or the other. In spite of its wealth or because of it, Whiterun is absolutely infested with bandits.

 

 

Almost by accident, or so it seems to Miri, the pair settle into a rhythm. Hasteinn does the fighting, with Miri supporting him from the back. Sometimes, her restoration magic makes the difference in the fight. Most times, it isn’t close enough to matter. And after, it falls to her to rifle through the belongings of the dead for any portable wealth. 

 

 

At the end of the day, back in town, Miri pays the sellsword his daily fee. Some days she comes up short, but she’s always able to make good on the debt by the next day. His daily pay usually leaves little for herself, but Miri doesn’t mind that too much. Hasteinn can have all the gold he wants (though she doesn’t say this to him, for obvious reasons). She’s in this for the adventure.

 

 

She spends her downtime reading books they find in their adventures, and studying spell tomes. Oakflesh. Aura of Might. Clairvoyance. She’s learning more in a week than she did in a year, cloistered in the abbey.

 

She even tries her hand at music, playing a flute she found at Valtheim Keep, but only once. Not everyone has the talent for music, alas.
 

 

Hasteinn spends his nights drinking heavily. Most nights, he staggers in drunk and collapses onto the bed they share, snoring. 

 

Despite Mikael’s sly insinuations, they really do just share a bed, and nothing more, though there is a part of Miri that finds the innuendo exciting, in a seedy sort of way. Sometimes, she wonders what it would be like to have Hasteinn as a lover. She thinks back to the tryst she peeked on earlier in the week, and imagines herself in Uthgerd’s place.

 

 

Hasteinn, on his part, remains steadfastly indifferent. He has not yet mentioned the incident from last week, though it is surely (surely!) on his mind. If he has any romantic designs however, he keeps them to himself.

 

+++

 

It’s not all smooth sailing, of course. When looting a bandit fort one day, she accidentally springs another magical trap. She pleads with Hasteinn for help, but as expected, the blackguard won’t do it for free. 

 

 

Miri knows he won’t budge on this, so she merely nods, hands over the septims… and asks nicely.

 

Only this time, Hasteinn lets out a bark of laughter as the yoke unlocks and falls aparts. Miri’s hands fly to her throat when she realizes there is still an iron ring, intact around her neck. Fumbling around, her fingers run over a smaller iron ring welded to the front.
 

 

It’s a slave collar, she realizes with dismay.

 

Hasteinn only shrugs when she protests. “It’s not part of the yoke, technically. I’d have to use another key.”

 

Miri tugs at the iron collar, uncomfortable. “I’m not a slave. Please, can you remove this for me?”

 

“I can. My terms, you know.”

 

Miri does. She considers whether to pay another fee to unlock the collar. It’s humiliating, but it’s not really impeding her movement. Besides, she’s out of coin. She decides to put up with the collar for now.

 

Hasteinn seems to approve. “It’s a good look on you,” he says. There is a hungry, intent look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing Miri in a whole new light.

 

Miri feels her face flush. Is that desire in his gaze?
 

 

Miri can’t decide if it’s a good thing.

 

 

On the road, Miri occasionally tries to pick the lock of the collar, but to no avail. The only thing she gets out of it is fatigue, frustration and the mocking laughter of Hasteinn.

 

The collar feels like crude iron, but there is potent magic in it. Every time Miri tries to cover it up with her cowl, the iron seems to warm uncomfortably, as if it wants to be seen. She gives up on covering it after the third attempt.
 

 

Back in civilization, Miri soon discovers that the collar attracts attention, and not the good kind. Even the people who are polite enough not to comment on it get a hooded look in their eyes.

 

But all that simply falls away when Miri and Hasteinn are on the road and adventuring.
 

 

It surprises Miri how quickly she gets used to the feel of iron around her neck. Sometimes, she forgets it’s even there.
 

 

One night, falling into bed after another long day of adventuring, Miri notes with a jolt that it is the month of Hearthfire now. With everything that’s been going on, she had missed the end of summer altogether. Looking back, she realizes that she hadn’t prayed nor thought about her old life for over a week.

 

+++

 

The next morning, returning to Dragonsreach, Hasteinn and Miri chance upon the Dunmer captain of the Whiterun guard, who reports that a dragon is attacking one of their forward watchtowers!

 

Hasteinn immediately volunteers to tag along and help. He doesn’t ask Miri, but she would have said yes regardless.

 

When the dragon comes, Miri is not much use. She tries her best to provide healing and succor to the fighting men, but she can’t help but flinch and duck whenever the dragon flies by above. 

 

 

It doesn’t matter. Hasteinn fights enough for the two of them - he is a tempest, landing a flurry of blows at the dragon’s head whenever arrows force it to land. It is he who lands the final blow on the beast, driving the point of his sword into the dragon’s eye.

 

Something remarkable happens upon the dragon’s death. As the dragon lets out its last breath like a sigh, it starts to disintegrate before their eyes, as its life force appears to flow from it to Hasteinn.
 

 

Some of the guards call him “Dragonborn”. Their Dunmer captain seems initially skeptical, but a powerful shout - no, a Shout - from Hasteinn that knocks her off her feet dispels all doubt, though the show of force does little to win her favor.

 

Back in Dragonsreach, upon hearing Hasteinn’s account of the events at the watchtower, the jarl names him a thane of Whiterun, and bequeaths upon him a wicked two-handed battle-axe as his weapon of office.

 

 

Miri is happy on Hasteinn’s behalf, but underneath, she feels a stirring of unease. What if being thane means his sword is no longer for hire?

 

The thought brings a knot to her throat. Truth be told, Miri wouldn’t know what to do without him. In the couple of weeks or so that they’ve been traveling together, she had come to rely on the Nord. It’s not just his fighting prowess, though it is considerable. As a native Nord Hasteinn is also her guide in this strange land, putting locations to place names and providing invaluable local context. And of course, he’s a friend... perhaps Miri’s only friend in, all of Skyrim.

 

When Hasteinn tells her, later, that he will be upping his daily fee going forward, Miri agrees, perhaps a little too quickly.

 

“You understand. As thane, I have a certain lifestyle to maintain.”

 

“I know,” Miri says, turning away to hide the giddy grin of relief spreading uncontrollably over her face. “You need your fair share too.”

 

+++