Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 22

Door dutchinteldude op dinsdag 1 november 2016 19:25 - Reacties (1)
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Het werd weer eens tijd om wat sneller hoofdstukken te plaatsen en onze trouwe lezers te vriend te houden ''sommige mensen smeekten om nieuwe hoofdstukken'' :P

Mijn vriendin is de laatste tijd weer flink bezig geweest met haar vingers.
En zie hieronder weer een resultaat.

Veel plezier en mijn vriendin vind commentaar/opmerkingen altijd zeer welkom.

Side note : Een zeer goede vriend van ons maakt op dit moment youtube filmpjes over diverse games! Om zijn kanaal te laten groeien hebben we hulp van jullie trouwe lezers nodig ^^ hij houd ook geregeld diverse leuke giveways!! hij is een echte vriend van de familie van ons.

Hieronder zijn kanaal (subscriben zou hem echt super super super blij maken)

https://www.youtube.com/user/DragonsGamingInc


Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 22

Summary:

And so the plans are made to move the wheels of fate will never cease their motion but one can't always predict their direction.

Sass included.

“You’re joking, right?” Ondolemar then sighed and rubbed his temples. “Never mind, I’m dealing with two Elves of which one nearly blew up the College and the other Elenwen’s solar…”
Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)


Chapter 22

Every single day he would curse the cold and mutter complaints under his breath about the lack of variety in the food; bread, porridge, some fruit, stew and that was about it. His Thalmor robes were still hung to dry after thoroughly scrubbing them and the ones he had been given itched so badly it drove him mad. Really, even if his life were in danger, this had to be the-…

“Oh, stop being such a milk-drinker.” Faralda had overheard Ondolemar’s curses and muttered complaints over the past few days. It didn’t annoy her. In fact, she’d found it amusing. “At least Ancano had the decency to just scowl until he got used to it all.” She laughed at Ondolemar’s indignant look. “It’s not all bad in comparison to what Ganir told me about your dreadful reception in Camlorn. He wouldn’t elaborate on it, however…”

Ondolemar thought he’d nearly choke on his wine. That fucking vampire-!

Faralda had no clue as to how or what and watched her fellow High Elf try to gather his composure while she patted him on the back. “All right, calm down…I was just teasing you. Didn’t know it was that bad…”

“You have no idea…” Ondolemar grumbled, but decided to make a tad light of the situation rather than show how flustered he was. “But yes, I suppose it’s not all bad. Just a vast difference to the luxuries of Markarth…”

“Markarth? So that’s where you were stationed?” Faralda got excited. “I’ve heard so much about Calcelmo’s research, but all our attempts to gain access or even a glimpse of his knowledge and work has been…without result, to say the least.”

“Is your Arcaneum not renowned for its vast collection of literature?” Ondolemar asked with a raised brow.

Faralda shook her head. “Used too. A lot of it was burned by the Lord Exarch’s men; ‘Deemed unfit’ by the ‘Dominion’s standards’ if not ‘heretical’…” Faralda looked at the students who came in or were already seated nearby. Most looked groggy or if not talking, had their noses buried in a book. “We’ve lost so much but we survived, so no point in moping. Urag’s been working day and night to clean up all of the mess. We all have been, for that matter. Life goes on, as they say.”

Ondolemar listened to her as they made their way to a table in the corner. He knew they had suffered severe losses, but he had not considered the material as much. After all, he’d seen the villagers and inhabitants make repairs. And in all honesty, he had been more concerned about Ancano’s well-being. “I had no idea. And here I am complaining about…well, practically nothing.” Ondolemar gave a wry smile, stirring and poking at his meal. “Calcelmo, however…now you’re talking about a most brilliant but awkward man…As inappropriate as the comparison may be, he guards his research and findings on the Dwemer like a dragon his hoard of gold.”

Faralda waved a dismissive hand. “Hardly inappropriate. We took care of one attacking the College not too long ago. No stash of gold to be had though, sadly enough.”

“Ancano has a knack for getting into, if not attracting trouble.” Ondolemar shook his head but the two High Elves shared a chuckle. “No disrespect intended towards your Arch-Mage of course, mind you.”

“You speak as his friend,” Faralda smiled. As spoiled as this Justiciar was, he was pleasant company. “It wasn’t his fault, though. But I speak as a colleague when I say that as demanding and overly criticizing he can be, he makes a brilliant Arch-Mage…When he faced off against the dragon with Ganir and Ciri…I’ve never seen such control and power.” She got up after looking at the time. “You’ll have to excuse me for now, however. I have to host my first seminar for today in a few. If you’re as familiar with Calcelmo as you claim to be, I think you could really help Urag and the College out. Just…don’t touch anything when you visit his Arcaneum. He’s been rather…touchy since his ‘little plain of Oblivion’ was nearly burned to ashes.”

“I will look into it. It’s the least I can do while I’m here. I look forward to hearing more about Ancano’s adventures. Thank you.” Ondolemar remained seated for the time being, watching the students come and go.

Faralda was right, really. What had he to complain about? As lavish as his lifestyle in Markarth was, there had been two attempts on his life in the time he’d stayed there. A vast majority, if not all, of Markarth’s populace absolutely despised and detested him. Not without reason, though, but he didn’t really want to think about it.

As for the College, its inhabitants weren’t all bad. Granted, they were apprehensive and kept their distance, but when approached they were friendly and courteous. This most likely had more to do because they trusted Ganir and Ancano’s judgement as to who they let on the College grounds but it was a welcome change either way. There had been a multitude of attempts on his life during his stay in Markarth and if he was on patrols, he was shot foul looks and muttered curses and threats. Here, he received no such treatment. Figures why Ancano likes it here, he thought. He’s safe and he has plenty of knowledge at his disposal…or what remains of it.

It’d be a while, but eventually Ancano would return to his snarky, old self. Right now, he was just a tad more… ‘ice-brained’ as some Nords called it. No point in brooding over that. I might as well make myself useful. The Justiciar got up and made his way over to the Arcaneum. When he arrived, he indeed found that the countless shelves and bookcases were stained with black soot, covered in ash, dirt and that a lot of them lay empty.

He wasn’t a huge bookworm himself, but it was a sad sight.

“Are you just going to stand and gawk there while your filthy boots muck up my Arcaneum even more, or…” The Orc’s grouchy countenance changed when he saw it was the Justiciar. “My apologies. You are the Arch-Mage and Dragonborn’s guest, are you not? Mistook you for an apprentice.”

“Yes, I am.” Ondolemar replied.

“Name’s Urag gro-Shub.” The old Orc couldn’t help but grin. The moment they shook hands, the Orc couldn’t help himself but make sure his grip was as firm as they came and he caught the High Elf wincing. Elves…Never as tough as they try to look. “Never thought I’d see the day I’d welcome a Justiciar to my Arcaneum, but from what I understood, you’re the good sort.”

“Please, just call me ‘Ondolemar’. Due recent events I feel…inadequate at the mention of my association with the Thalmor, as you can no doubt understand…” Ondolemar scraped his throat. “After a chat with Faralda, I had to see the Arcaneum myself. Given the state of affairs and how I have been welcomed, I’d be happy to help while I’m here. No doubt you have your connections and means, but so do I, to fill those empty shelves with books again.”

“Really?” The Orc unfolded the arms from his chest. If he’s genuine, maybe he’s really not all that bad…for an Elf. “Well, as you can see, there’s not much left of it, but I managed to salvage some of it, and some of the most valuable I had secured elsewhere, but still…If you can help, I’ll be happy to accept it. You seem competent enough at the very least.”

It didn’t take Ondolemar long to learn that Urag’s grouchy demeanor was ‘the nature of the beast’ and he meant nothing personal with it. The Orc watched him like a hawk and kept his responses curt at first, but Urag warmed up fast enough once he realized his company was most competent and not condescending. Ondolemar, on the other hand, had to admit he was impressed to discover that Urag was very well-read and schooled on a variety of subjects, varying from common to arcane history, its teachings, theories and the art of debate. After a while, they forfeited trying to clean up and took a seat to talk while drinking wine.

The both of them looked up when they heard the door open and Urag muttered something about a nosy, useless apprentice. It was Ganir, however, who made his way in and carried a rather large bag he had swung over his shoulder. “Dragonborn or not, Ganir, you know the rules…” Urag’s large, bushy brows knitted together, initially set on the mud-stained boots the Dark Elf wore, but then he looked at the large bag he carried. “What’s in there?”

“Nice to see you too, Urag. Got you something that should cover the expenses to rebuild the Arcaneum’s collection.” Ganir put the bag on the table and glanced at the High Elf, whose cheeks held a glow. No doubt thanks to the wine… “Trust me when I say that the Forsworn were the least of my concerns when we made it to the Reach…”

“Malacath’s balls…Dragon horns and teeth?!” Urag’s eyes went wide when he peered inside the bag. “Thank you, Ganir. This should definitely take care of the finances…”

“A dragon’s horns and teeth…?” Ondolemar’s eyes went wide. “Let me see, please!” Ondolemar removed his gloves and took one of the horns from Urag. Awed, the High Elf ran his fingers over the horn. This was definitely not the ivory of a mammoth’s tusk, but weighed as much. He was holding a real dragon’s horn…As lethal as this beast must have been when alive, it had to be magnificent all the same. “I found it hard to believe the rumors of dragons returning…but this is irrefutable proof…”

“Well, the dragon came as quite a surprise. We were counting on the Forsworn when we made it to the temple’s alleged location. Instead, we found the camp laid to waste by the dragon, who’d made himself comfortable and cozy in the nearby cave after killing the survivors inside. Quite a close call because the damn lizard nearly burned me to a crisp…” Ganir scratched the back of his head, grinning awkwardly. “But we’ve learned a lot. Found Sky Haven Temple. Hence why I came back here.”

“Really?” Ondolemar looked up at the Dark Elf, genuinely impressed. Whether the Dark Elf had help from the Blades or not, he’d killed a dragon. “Markarth may be made of stone and steel, but it’s still a good thing to know it’s dead. What is beyond me, however, is how that temple was never found before. Do tell me more. What did you find?”

“I’d be glad to tell you all about it, but it’s best to inform Ancano as well.” Ganir replied. “I’m assuming he’s visiting Ciri…?”

“You assume right.” Ondolemar replied. “I’ll go inform him. He doesn’t mind my…presence as much.”

The first time Ondolemar had made his way to the labyrinth where Cirilonde Valanocke was laid to rest, he’d found no words to utter. Frozen flowers guided the path to where she was. When he finally came to the room, he found Ancano standing at her side. It was a morbid observation that could not go unnoticed. The freezing cold preserved her body without flaw and it looked as though she was asleep. Ancano’s expression betrayed nothing to a stranger, but Ondolemar could tell. He had watched how his friend’s thumb lovingly stroked the back of Cirilonde’s hand, treating her with a tenderness he’d never seen. The glimmer in the Ancano’s eyes said everything without words. He had loved her and Ondolemar understood why his friend preferred to pour all his attention into whatever study he could to drown out the grief.

When Ganir and Ondolemar met eyes, they gave each other an understanding nod. “You go on ahead, I’ll need Urag’s help first,” Ganir said.

“Very well.” Ondolemar bowed his head at Urag. “’twas a pleasure, Master Urag. I’ll be sure to contact Calcelmo and see what titles I can obtain for you. Meet you later, Ganir.”

“Thank you. Appreciated.” Ganir couldn’t exactly pinpoint what the Orc was thinking, who turned to him when Ondolemar was gone. “I’m going to be honest here, Ganir. I wanted to pummel the sense back into your head when you suggested Ancano take up the position of Arch-Mage. Even more so when you told us about the Justiciar, but…it’s worked out and this Ondolemar isn’t too bad.”

“Trust me, I still have to come to terms with it all.” Ganir couldn’t help but grin. “Keep in mind, it wasn’t all that long ago I could strangle Ancano. But enough for gossip now. I have a problem and you were the first person to come to mind. Do you have any books, or do you know anything about Elder Scrolls?”

“Elder Scrolls?” Urag raised one of his bushy eyebrows. “Depends on what you want to know…or how I’d even explain it to you, for that matter.”

“To keep a long story short, I need to find one and use it.” Ganir replied with an almost child-like simplicity in his tone.

The Orc’s eyes darkened, glowering at the Dark Elf. The tips of his clawed fingers rubbed his brow. “Should’ve expected an answer like that…” He then crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you even know what you’re really asking for or about?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Ganir scratched the back of his head. “No matter how I twist or turn it, I need to find an Elder Scroll. I didn’t want to pursue it head-first without preparation and knowing how, what, where or why.”

“I’m not sure if I even want to know the how, what, where or why,” Urag sighed. “But very well. I’ll see if I can find anything. You best go see Ancano, but be warned, he’s not been the best company since…”

“As is to be expected.” Ganir gave the Orc a sharp look. Not everyone knew exactly what had all happened or what was going on precisely, but Ganir saw no need for them to know everything. Ancano had suffered enough and he didn’t need feigned pity or sympathy. And Cirilonde had seen some good in him. Least he could do is take good care of him where possible. “I’ll leave you to it. Thank you.”

Ganir left the Arcaneum and made his way up to the Arch-Mage’s Quarters where the Altmer no doubt were waiting by now. When he saw Ancano, however, he couldn’t help but let out an annoyed growl. “Have you even slept since I left?”

Ancano didn’t look as dreadful as he had a week ago. All thanks to Ondolemar, though, who had relentlessly badgered his friend to at least eat properly lest he ram it down his throat.

“I don’t see how this is any of your concern.” Ancano snapped. “Ondolemar told me you found Sky Haven Temple and learned something?”

“Correct.” Ganir confirmed. “We found Alduin’s Wall in the temple, like Esbern had said. It spoke of a Shout that the ancient Nords used to…banish Alduin, of sorts, but not what kind of Shout. I met with the Greybeards’ leader, Paarthurnax. He explained me that the Shout they used was called Dragonrend. It didn’t defeat Alduin, though, because the ancient Nords made a huge mistake, which is why we’re dealing with him now. They used an Elder Scroll to cast him adrift in the flow of time, hoping he would be lost forever…”

Ganir’s fingers toyed with the golden earring that pierced his long, slender ear. “I don’t even know how to really explain all of this. When Paarthurnax told me, it all made sense. But Alduin’s banishment caused a sort rift…a Time-Wound, he called it, on the top of the Throat of the World. Though the Shout itself is ‘lost’ to the common means, if I were to obtain an Elder Scrolls, I could perhaps access the Time-Wound and learn the Shout.”

Ancano drummed the tips of his long, slender fingers against one another as he contemplated Ganir’s words for a moment. Finally, he got up and paced back and forth as he spoke, “I took the liberty of delving into this whole…’legend’. Call it what you will. As ridiculous and incredible as it is, I don’t doubt your word. I just hope you’re aware of what you’re implying…

“Even if you were to obtain this…’Shout’ by tampering with this most ancient Time-Wound, are you even aware of the potential consequences of tampering with said phenomenon or the very nature of your enemy?” Ancano’s eyes locked on Ganir’s for a moment. “I have little inclination to take the common drunken Nord tales to heart, but considering…recent events,” The High Elf looked away with a contemplative expression, “and the facts we’ve gathered by now, it would be plain dense to ignore that Alduin is the ‘World-Eater’ and ‘Firstborn of Akatosh’. I just wonder if he can even truly be killed?”

The Arch-Mage’s lips curled into a most satisfied smirk as Ganir couldn’t hide how impressed he was with the High Elf. That explains the lack of sleep, most likely… “Quite simple,” Ganir said matter-of-factly. “These ancient Nords weren’t Dragonborn. In any case, if we don’t at least try to stop Alduin, it will mean the end of the world. Risking a Dragon Break is honestly the last and least of our concerns.”

“You’re joking, right?” Ondolemar then sighed and rubbed his temples. “Never mind, I’m dealing with two Elves of which one nearly blew up the College and the other Elenwen’s solar…”

“Very funny…” Ancano and Ganir chimed, glaring at Ondolemar.

“There is one problem, however,” Ancano said to Ganir. “Where or how exactly do you intend to find an Elder Scroll and obtain it?”

“Well, I’ve asked Urag for help,” Ganir said. “Though the Arcaneum suffered great losses, he assured me that no doubt, he had some books on the subject that could help us.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. “It’s Urag. Got what you need like-,”

“Just get in,” Ancano snapped.

They’d expected the Orc to come carrying a pile of books but only had one with him. “Don’t give me that look. I had more, but then I came across this work. I think you’ll find it rather insightful, and the author is actually still alive…”

Ganir took the book from Urag. “Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls…Septimus Signus.”

“He’s a bit…eccentric, even by ‘our’ standards,” Urag said, “but the most knowledgeable man alive to date in regards to the Dwemer and Elder Scrolls alongside Calcelmo…Come to think of it. Sep wrote me not too long ago and mentioned he wanted to drop by as he was working on something north of here. Probably some expedition.”

“Isn’t there nothing but islets and icecaps up north?” Ganir asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not exactly the travelling sort,” Urag shrugged. “Make no mistake, though. The towers of Dwemer ruins spiral to the surface but the rest is always hidden underground. It wouldn’t surprise me if Septimus is on the trail of one that was swallowed by the Great Collapse.”

Ganir put the book on the desk in case the two Elves wanted to have a gander at it. “I best go look for him. He’s our best and only lead.”

“I recommend against venturing out there on your own, Dragonborn or not,” Urag said. “The icecaps are treacherous, as is the sea.”

“And in all due respect,” Ondolemar quipped, “this fellow sounds barking mad…” He initially had taken a casual gander at the book’s contents, but then read it over and over, trying to make sense of it.

“I’ll be fine,” Ganir said. “Unless you’re eager for some really fresh air.”

“In all honesty, please go with him Ondolemar,” Ancano said. “I’d like to not be badgered every hour by you for a change.”
“Arch-prick,” Ondolemar muttered under his breath as the two elves and Orc left the tower and made their way down. “If I didn’t pester him to eat properly he would bloody well forget too because his nose is permanently buried in whatever book he can lay his hands on if he’s not tampering with the Staff of Magnus in an attempt to fix it!” The Justiciar let out a frustrated sigh.

“I just consider it his way of being affectionate,” Ganir cocked his head to the side. “I won’t make you come along, however. It is pretty risky.”

“Well…” Ondolemar wrapped his Thalmor over-cloak tighter about him. “To be fair I’ve not really been on an ‘adventure’ for some time. As long as there’s no sewers involved, I wouldn’t mind coming along. Let me get my ‘proper’ robes.”

Ganir needn’t prepare, but he waited for Ondolemar to change into his Thalmor robes and then set out towards the north. Urag had told them about the possible location where Septimus would be, but warned them that the Imperial no doubt worked alone and if found, could be paranoid.

The two elves reached the coast on horseback and dismounted to look at the icecaps. The water had calmed for the tide, which was good as it gave them the time to cross safely. Going by boat was definitely not an option, which was supported by the shipwrecks and remains washed ashore by the waves.

“Stay close,” Ganir said. “And let me go first…”

Their boots had been treated proper enough so they could feel the cold brush against the leather, but whereas the cold didn’t bother Ganir, Ondolemar cursed himself for coming along. Gods be damned this water is beyond freezing!

It wasn’t long before his teeth were chattering but he pushed on, using spells to dry his attire whenever they came ashore to ensure he wouldn’t suffer from hypothermia. For a moment, they thought that their search would be without result, when Ondolemar spotted lights in the distance on an island. When they came close, they found a boat tied to an iron pin in the rocks and torches at the entrance to the cave, where a crude, make-shift hatch had been placed over made out of wreckage wood.

“Could be the place…” Ganir said as he lift the hatch. “Let me go in first.”

“Gladly.” Ondolemar was capable of defending himself, but he was all too familiar with a mage’s wrath after one interruption too many and he’d rather not suffer the brunt of it.

The cave had naturally formed over the course of many decades, hewn from rock and ice by the wind, waves and sleet. Ganir’s steps were silent in the snow and Ondolemar cautiously followed the vampire a few steps behind, but their careful steps weren’t needed for long because the cavern didn’t go deep. This probably had to do with the fact that most of the space was taken by an enormous Dwemer-steel cube in the wall. An old man clad in thick, blue fur-and-wool robes stood near, studying the object closely.

His coarse beard and moustache were unkempt and it was clear he had scorched it a variety of times. As normal as he appeared, there was a most odd look in his eyes; knowing, but so far away as if in another world. If he had noticed the two elves, he had made no effort to acknowledge them, if he was even ‘here’…

Suddenly, the Imperial let out a roar of frustration and startled the two Elves. Ganir instinctively reached for his dagger. “Dig, Dwemer, in the beyond! I’ll know your lost unknown and rise to you!” To emphasize his point, the old man made the mistake of kicking against the cube. A loud, dull CLANG was heard, indicating the cube was most likely hollow, but this was drowned out by the shriek of pain that followed suit after the Imperial had kicked it.

Ondolemar twirled his index finger near his temple with the roll of his eyes but Ganir shrugged. He signaled for the High Elf to stay back while he approached the rambling old man who was rummaging through his notes filled with insane scrawling.

“Quill...Quill. Quill! Ink to draw the lines on the planes…” The old man took the quill he was handed by Ganir without much thought, but when he realized he was not alone, he spun around. His eyes were wide and shot from Ganir to Ondolemar. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Don’t worry, we mean you no harm.” Ganir reassured him. “Are you Septimus Signus? Urag gro-Shub told me that he knows a lot about Elder Scrolls and we’re looking for him.”

“Ahhh, good old Urag…But yes, I’m Septimus Signus. But the Elder Scrolls you say? Ahh, yes…yes.” As jovial as he was, Septimus’ eyes held an insane glitter. “Elder Scrolls. Indeed. The Empire…They absconded with them. Or so they think! The ones they saw. The ones they thought they saw.” Septimus paced back and forth as he spoke, gesturing frantically as if he were addressing an audience, before he spun on his heel once more, only an inch away from Ganir’s face. “I know of one…” The grin on his face unnerved Ganir, which was saying something… “Forgotten. Sequestered…But I cannot go to it! Not poor Septimus, for I…I have arisen beyond its grasp….”=

Ganir scraped his throat, unsure of how ‘stable’ this man was. “So…where is this Scroll?”

“Here!” Septimus said as if it were the most obvious thing in sight, but they saw nothing, looking confused. “Well…Here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking…” Septimus laughed. “On the cosmological scale, it is all nearby…”

“Can you help us find the scroll or not?” Ondolemar snapped. More out of discomfort than anything else.

“One block lifts another,” Septimus said sagely. “So you must bring me something in return.”

“Of course,” Ganir sighed and rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Behold!” Septimus raised his hand in gesture at the huge, Dwemer-steel cube with a variety of engravings and … lenses? Divines knew what purpose it served, but Septimus acted as though he had just revealed something grand they had not seen. “You see this master work of the Dwemer. Deep inside their greatest knowings. I am clever amongst men, but an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach one yet lies! Have you heard of Blackreach? ‘Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept’?”

Ganir’s fingers toyed with his earring. “Yes. Of course. How do I get there again?”

“Under deep. Below the dark…The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there. Oh no…Only I, Septimus, know of the hidden key to lose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock…”

Ganir and Ondolemar exchanged looks. “You mention a lock? How do I get in?”

“Two things, I have for you…” Septimus rummaged about in a chest near his desk and retrieved two odd, Dwemer objects, or maybe ‘artefacts’ was a more proper term. He handed them to Ganir as though they were precious presents with a child-like excitement. “One edged. One round. The round one, for tuning. Dwemer music is soft and subtle and needed to open their cleverest gates. The edged lexicon…” He tapped on the cube with lenses and odd inscriptions. “…for inscribing. To us, a hunk of metal. To the Dwemer, a full library of knowings, but currently empty. Find Mzark and its sky-dome. The machinations there will read he Scroll and lay the lore upon the cube. Trust Septimus. He knows…” Ganir growled when the old Imperial prodded his chest, “you can know…Now!” Ganir jumped back when Septimus’ finger shot up with such speed it was nearly shoved up Ganir’s nostril. “Now…Shoo. I must listen…the Dwemer speak but make no sound…”

“Thank you…I guess.” Ganir said, but Septimus’ mind was far off again and the two Elves were most happy to leave.

Ondolemar heaved a sigh of relief once they were outside. “Glad we made it out of there without a scuffle.”

“Understatement,” Ganir snorted. “But you’re from Markarth, and you mentioned you know Calcelmo, right?”

Ondolemar scowled. “As if that craggy, wretch of a city would deserve to be graced with such an honor. I’m merely stationed there…well, was…” He ran his hand over his scalp and sighed when Ganir looked confused by the sudden anger and bitterness in his tone. “Let’s just get back to the College. I’m freezing.”

“We’ll talk there.” Ganir then gave a smile. “Bet they can hear your teeth chattering from here at the College.”

“I’m looking forward to a warm bath and fire when we get back,” Ondolemar grumbled. “I hate to sound like I’m only good at complaining but gods be damned it’s cold.”

“Well, like I said, it takes some time getting used to it.” Ganir admitted and made a note to see if he had anything to make sure the Justiciar wouldn’t end up freezing to death during his stay here once they got back.


Notes:

Hello again!

Thank you for taking your time to read this chapter. Leave a comment if you enjoyed it.

Have a nice read and day!

Volgende: Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 23 11-'16 Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 23
Volgende: Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 21 10-'16 Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 21

Reacties


Door Tweakers user GrimScythe, donderdag 3 november 2016 09:04

dank je voor de snelle update, alweer in volle afwachting van de volgende :)

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