Fenora stared at Stross, jaw dropped in horror. Stross stared back, still giving her that dopey, jagged smile.
Her breathing quickened as her mind went into panic mode. He didn’t recognize her.
Stross didn’t recognize her.
Maybe this was a side effect of coming so close to death? It had to be. If it was, he might start to remember with time.
But what if he didn’t? She’d have to explain everything to him, who she was and why he was with her… every little bit that he’d missed. And if he didn’t remember her, what else did he forget? Did he remember Equestria, or even what he was?
If he didn’t, she’d try and help him remember.
Only...
How could she? Fenora barely knew anything about his past, how his species worked, or about the world he came from. She suddenly felt guilty about never asking him more about any of those things, never showing interest, even for the sake of getting to know him better.
Now he was just a poor lonely changeling stuck in a world that wasn’t his own, with no memory of anything!
All she could do now was help him in any way she could, just like he had done for her.
Stross made her care, about other people, about the fate of Skyrim… about him. The least she could do was make sure he had someone looking out for him.
Fenora told herself, promised that she wouldn’t let him wander, lost and alone.
She’d-
“Just kidding.”
Fenora blinked. “What?”
“I’m just kidding Fen!” Stross laughed, wiggling in his bindings. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. You were all like ‘Oh no! Stross senpai has amnesia and can’t remember our love! What will I do!?’ It was so hilari- ow! OW! Gah, why?”
“You! Freaking! Dickbiscuit!” Fenora screamed, punctuating every angry syllable with a kick to the changeling’s sides. “I was so worried about you! *kick* I thought you were going to die. *kick* Then I thought you were never going to get better. *'nother kick* Then I thought I was gonna have to teach you how to be you again! And I-*slightly softer kick* And I…”
Fenora heaved a long sigh. “Stross you moron.” She gave Stross one final *kick* before giving him a much-needed hug. “I’m glad to have you back.”
“I’m glad to have me back to.” Stross giggled and nuzzled her face. “Can um... can you carry me though. I can’t feel my legs.”
“Soooo,” Stross sang in after a while, “what’d I miss while I was… corpsey?”
“Oh y’know…” Fenora said, her stride faltering for a split second, “stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Fenora took a moment to throw a pleading look to Lydia, who in turn made a zipping motion across her lips.
“The usual. We walked to Ustengrav, ran into some bandits on the road.” I fed one of them to you like a monster. “They were trying to take all the stuff we looted from Movarth’s cave and- oh! I’ve got to show you some of that later. We left it near the entrance so we wouldn’t have to drag it through the catacombs.”
“What happened to the people in Morthal? Are they doing okay?” Stross asked, and Fenora smiled on the inside. She should have guessed he'd want to know. Even in his current state, he was worrying about everyone else.
“They’re doing as well as they can after everything that happened. We ran into a tiny mob of them on the way back to town. It’s a good thing we were there to fight for them. They never would have stood a chance against all those vampires.” Fenora told him, “We did a good thing together Stross.”
She could feel the changeling beaming with pride.
The group came to a halt in front of an archway. Beyond it, the only way forward was covered in a darkness that looked dense enough to be solid. Another plaque adorned the wall next to the arch, it’s text roughly translating to [When darkness and cold encircle you, look to the flame in your soul. Fire is warmth. Fire is light.]
Pretty obvious what needed to be done.
“Yol.” Fenora sent out a small plume of fire into the dark room beyond.
The light revealed that the floor was actually a pitch black polished stone that could only be seen in the light. It also didn’t cover the entire floor.
What they could see by firelight was more of a narrow bridge, one that they could only hope led all the way across. The space it didn’t cover seemed to drop off into nothing.
They’d need to tread forward slowly and carefully while Fenora revealed a bit more of the path every few steps until they reached the other side, requiring her to use her fire breath each time.
Or…
“Hang on a sec here. I’m doing this the easy way.” She said, wrapping one of her bedsheet bandages around the end of her sword and setting it on fire.
Holding the light out in front of her, Fenora led the way for them.
As it turned out, the path often turned at sharp angles, winding its way to the other end instead of it being a straight shot. Lydia stayed close behind her the whole time, Stross too, though he didn’t really have a choice since he was a little… tied up.
It wasn’t that hard. The worst part was how fast the cloth burned out and had to be replaced.
While Fenora re-lit her torch/sword for the third time, Stross decided to strike up some conversation again.
“So this is it right? We’re finally getting that magic horn for the Greybeards? I wonder what kind of ultra-secret power it’s going to give you so you can beat Alduin.”
“Huh,” Fenora huh’d. “I never really thought about that.”
“Are you kidding?!” Stross said in shock. “You never even wondered what sort of amazing superpower you might get from it. You’re the dragonborn! Maybe you’ll get a shout specially made for fighting dragons, or a spell that can turn all the dragons in the world into delicious pancakes!” Stross gasped, “Maybe you’ll be able to turn into a dragon yourself.”
“What?” Fenora deadpanned. “That’s dumb.”
“No it isn’t!” Stross argued determinedly. “Just imagine it: you’re standing alone on the top of a mountain peak-“
“How’d I get up there?”
“I dunno. You climbed there. That’s not the point. You’re standing there while an entire army of dragons circles the sky above, breathing fire and doing other menacing dragon stuff. Then, a bolt of lightning shoots down from the sky and strikes you! When the light fades you’re no longer Fenora the elf, you’re… Fenora-zilla, the ultimate dragon who is bigger, sexier, and more powerful than all the other dragons combined!
“Then you launch into the air, smashing them into the ground with your powerful tail, biting them in half in your massive jaws, and blowing them away with nothing but your wingbeats! When the battle is done, you hover over the lands of the tiny people you saved and smile as they shower you with praise before flying off into the sunset. Doesn’t that sound awesome!?”
“I think it sounds worthy of legend, my thane.” Lydia chimed in.
Fenora smirked. “Okay, yeah. That does sound pretty epic. But what would I do with that power after Alduin and his army are dead?”
“Umm… rule the world maybe?” Stross suggested. “From your golden money palace, where you live with your devilishly handsome changeling husband?”
Fenora caught herself snickering. “Sorry Stross, but there’s no way that’s happening.”
Stross’s ears drooped as she crushed his dreams.
“If we’re living anywhere together, it has to be someplace that doesn’t take an army of servants to clean.”
“Oh.” Stross perked up again.
Fenora caught her laughter short, looking over her shoulder at him. “What, you thought I meant the part where we ge- Heht! Shit shit shit!”
“My thanes!” Lydia dove forwards as Fenora teetered on the edge of the bridge, flapping her arms in a desperate attempt to keep her balance.
The two of them reached out, but literally slipped through each other’s fingers.
“Lydiaaaaaaa!” Fenora screamed as she and Stross fell over the edge into blackness. “Aaaaaaa- Oof!”
Hesitantly, Lydia peeked over the edge.
“Oooowww.” Fenora groaned from literally four feet below her, “I think I landed on my tailbone.”
So yes, disarming as it was, the whole ‘bottomless pit’ wasn’t actually bottomless; it was just made to look that way. But it made a little more sense when they thought about it. The tomb was originally meant to test users of The Voice, not slaughter them.
Still, the last obstacle took that point to a whole new level.
“Alright Lydia, you wait there… and Stross, you sit here…” Fenora instructed, setting her companions in front of the glowing red stones. There were three in total, each one opening a gate at the far end of the room.
She knew the point was for her to make a running start past each of the glowing switches, and then use Whirlwind Sprint make it through the opened gates before they closed… but that just seemed like such a hassle. And besides, she’d used Whirlwind Sprint to skewer living enemies on the end of her sword. She doubted she had anything more to prove.
Triggering the final gate switch, Fenora calmly sauntered through the open gateways with plenty of time, throwing the switch on the other side to keep them open for her friends.
“What is my life?” Stross sobbed dramatically as Lydia carried him through. “I’ve been relegated to being a paperweight!”
“Don’t worry my thane, paperweights are in high demand in Skyrim.” Lydia told him, “In fact we even have a special name for them: housecarls.”
None of them knew if she was joking or not, but they shared a good laugh over it all the same.
The main burial chamber was just up ahead, and within it was Windcaller’s Horn, finally.
This was it. After all their questing and digressing along the way, they had finally made it.
The room was modest in size compared to most they’d seen so far, yet there were touches here and there that made it unique, and befitting of one who’d spent their whole life learning what it meant to be at peace with the world, and with one’s self.
Tranquil waters pooled on the sides of the chamber, decorated with statues in the shape of dragons roaring towards the sky. The remains of banners hung from the ceiling by metal rods, the faded words upon them likely retelling the key moments in Jurgen’s life, and the lessons he learned.
However, it soon became clear that our heroes were not the only ones here.
The second the metal coffin housing old Jurgen came into view, two other figures did as well. One was covered from head to toe in plate armor and sat idly prodding a small campfire, the other was garbed in leather and sat atop Jurgen’s tomb, staring straight at them from her perch.
“What the ‘Blivion..?” Fenora muttered and reached for her sword.
“Don’t even think about it!” the woman on Jurgen’s tomb snapped. As quickly as the words left her mouth she produced a crossbow, larger and more powerful looking than the one Fen had used, and loaded with an arrow that could skewer a wild boar.
She leveled it at them along with a narrow glare.
Lydia shifted her feet, ready to dive sideways and take the shot for her thane.
Fenora did the same with thoughts of simply dodging it.
Stross stayed tied up on Fenora’s back.
For a few tense moments, no one dared to move.
“So…” the woman spoke. “You must be the dragonborn I’ve heard so much about. Took you long enough to get here.”
“And who would you be?” Fenora asked, ready to act at any second.
“A friend.”
Fenora frowned deeper. “The only friends I have in Skyrim are standing next to me. But I recognize him well enough,” she motioned to the armored man, “he beat the living shit out of Stross to get the dragonstone, back in Riverwood. Don’t think I forgot about that. So just who are you?”
“Making demands at the business end of a crossbow.” the armored man's deep voice echoed from inside his helmet. He hadn’t bothered to move, still sifting the burning bits of wood with a twig. “She’s either really confident… or really stupid. Can we really trust her to stop Alduin?”
“We have to. She’s the only one who can.” The woman said, setting her crossbow down and removing her hood. Underneath was a head full of greying hair and a scarred face that was slowly beginning to show her age. “My name is Delphine, I’m the one who wanted the dragonstone you delivered to Farengar. You’re not the only one that’s taken notice of the dragons returning, nor are you the only one who’s doing something to stop them.”
“Look, we’re just here to get Windcaller’s Horn so we can bring it back to the Greybeards. That’s it.” Fenora told her.
“Of course you are. I have it right here.” Delphine said and held the horn up for them to see. “I’ll even give it to you, no strings attached. If… you can answer me one simple question.” she casually tossed it up and let it fall back into her hand. “What does it do?”
Fenora looked at her questioningly. “It stops the dragons. Somehow.”
“You don’t know, do you?” Delphine grunted, her firmness making it sound more like a fact than a question. “Well let me enlighten you. It does NOTHING.”
They flinched as Delphine hopped off Jurgen’s tomb and threw it like it was an old shoe. The horn bounced and skidded on the floor, finally stopping when it hit Fenora’s foot.
Fenora picked it up and held it in her hands. “No way. There’s gotta be some kind of mistake! The Greybeards-“
“The Greybeards are a bunch of old men who sit on top of a mountain meditating all day long!” Delphine shouted, “They wouldn’t know the first thing about killing dragons! And now those old fools have taken our only hope… and sent her on a milk run. Unbelievable.”
Fenora ignored her, turning the horn over in her hands as though trying to find the ‘on’ switch. Shaking it slightly as though that would make it work.
All this time she’d expected so much from finding it, especially after everything the Greybeards had already taught her. It was supposed to be some sort of legendary artifact that she could only get by proving she was the dragonborn, and it would give her the power to save the world. But…
Now she was holding it in her hands. It felt almost shoddy, worn from time, chipped from where it hit the floor just now. Worst of all, she didn’t feel anything from it, not even the slightest tingle that she’d done anything meaningful by getting it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!
“So what will you do now?” Delphine asked, reminding them she was still there. “Will you continue to be strung along by a bunch of disconnected, aloof old men? Or are you going to knuckle down and listen to someone that actually knows what they’re doing?”
Fenora’s fist tightened around Windcaller’s horn. She was already getting sick of this woman and her condescending tone. “And I suppose you have a better plan.” She said more bitterly than intended.
“Actually, I do.” Delphine said matter-of-factly. “During the Dragon War, the dragonborns were the ultimate dragon slayers, able to permanently kill a dragon by taking its soul. But they weren’t alone. They had an army of specially trained soldiers that would bring the dragons down long enough for them to deal the killing blow. That is what I propose we do now. We raise an army, train them to fight the beasts, and then we kill them all. If Alduin tries to stop us, we kill him too.”
There was a pause as Fenora waited for her to continue.
“That’s it?” she said in disbelief. “That’s your master plan; we hire a bunch of dudes, find a dragon, group up and hit it till it dies… a hundred times in a row?!”
“Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” Lydia gave her rating.
Delphine crossed her arms and frowned. “Would you rather sprint around the countryside, staring up at the skies until you find one, and then chasing after it till it lands to fight you?”
“I’d rather press the big red button labeled ‘Kill all the dragons’. I don’t even care if it’s on the front of Alduin’s face.”
“Nose boop of genocide.” Stross declared.
Delphine shook her head, her nostril’s flaring. “You’re unbelievably optimistic if you thought this would be so easy, but those are your choices. If you’re really serious about defeating the dragons and saving Skyrim, meet me outside Solitude in two days; there’s something I need to take care of if we’re to get started.”
With that, Delphine turned to leave through the chamber’s only other door.
“Care to elaborate on any of that?!” Fenora called after her.
Delphine paused, glancing back over her shoulder as though considering it, but in the end she just kept walking without another word.
Fenora turned to face her friends. A moment of silence hung over them, and Fenora still clenched Jurgen’s horn in her hands.
“Geez what a bitch.” Stross scoffed. “So what’re we gonna do now Fen? I’m ready for anything! Except stairs. I don’t think I can handle stairs right now.”
Fenora sighed. She wished she could borrow some of his enthusiasm.
Looking at the horn in her hands, she thought of the Greybeards. They were the wise old men that were supposed to guide her on her journey; that was how it happened in the great hero stories her mother told her at bedtime. She had trusted them. Now it seemed their wisdom and guidance led them to a dead end.
Now all they were left with was a plan so simple even bandits would laugh at it, given to them by the most smackable bitch in Skyrim.
“Do you get the feeling that no one was prepared for this?” Fenora finally asked, despair edging its way into her voice. “I’m no grand strategist, but I haven’t heard a single thing out of anyone that sounds like a solid plan. It’s like no one bothered to write a manual to go along with that prophesy, and so we’re left chasing whatever’s in front of us, hoping it works out somehow.”
“The blind following the blind, my thane.”
Fenora buried her face in her fists and groaned.
“What are we doing?” she muttered hopelessly. “What are we going to do?”
“Go on vacation and clear our heads?” Stross offered.
“Yeah,” Fen snorted, “wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Who says it won’t be? We have time.” Stross reasoned, “She said to meet her in Solitude in two days for whatever stupidness she’s got in store. So let’s just go there now and hang out for a while. Maybe we can even think of a better plan ourselves once we’re not so stressed out.”
“I think Stross has a valid point, my thane.” Lydia agreed. “After everything that’s happened in the last week, we could all use a chance to recover. My cousin serves in the Blue Palace, and I’m sure she’d be glad to show us the sights.”
Fenora took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. Can’t be worse than everything else so far.”
“Oh come on Fen, you can do better than that!” Stross said from behind her head, and she suddenly felt him nibbling one of her ears.
“Ahh! Stross cut it out, that feel’s weird.” Fenora batted at him.
“Oh? What about if I stick my tongue inside one of your holes?” Stross asked and stuck his long slender appendage into her ear.
Fenora shrieked at the slimy wetness worming its way inside her head, and awkwardly tried to wrestle Stross back into his sheets.
This only made him escalate to covering the rest of her face with big slobbery kisses until she was laughing uncontrollably. Meanwhile Lydia temporarily forgot her vows as Fenora’s protector, and simply stood by, giggling in amusement herself.
“Okay! I’ll try and loosen up already!” Fenora relented, still gasping with laughter. “Let’s grab our stuff and get out of here. Solitude’s a pretty decent walk from here; we’ll need to go soon if we want to get there before nightfall.”
“Road trip!” Stross cheered, throwing his hands up.
Fenora looked back at the burial chamber, and Jurgen’s tomb. Giving one last fleeting glance to the horn, she gave a final sigh and let it fall to the floor with a definite *clack*. Then she turned, and with companions in tow, left the chamber behind.
…
A minute later Stross stumbled back into the chamber, his legs too frail to support him for long. Frantically he grabbed the horn in his bony fingers and cradled it to his chest like it were an infant.
Gasping, he lunged forward towards the metal coffin, a few feet at a time despite his body’s protests.
“Stross!” Fenora yelled, her voice full of concern as she ran over and tried to pick him up, with Lydia following suit mere seconds later. “What the heck are you doing, you crazy bug?”
“Nnnnuuuuuuu!” Stross wailed. “It’s not right Fen! It’s just not right!”
Fenora slapped him. “Calm down! The ‘Blivion are you talking about?”
“I gotta put it back Fen!” Stross said, holding the horn out towards its decorative pedestal atop the coffin. “He was a great guy; I read about him in the books the Greybeards had! He learned that with great power comes great responsibility. And then he tried to teach that to everyone else too! He’s like the spidermane of Nirn! I can’t just leave after we messed up his grave.”
Fenora, pragmatist that she was, realized a dead guy wasn’t going to care if they fixed up his grave or not, and they hadn’t even ruined in the first place. It stupid, sentimental, possibly OCD, and most importantly it was holding them up.
So naturally, she let Stross lean on her while she walked him over.
It was slow. But for Stross, she didn’t mind.
When they finally got to the centerpiece, with its carved surface covered with recently disturbed dust, it was pretty clear where the horn was supposed to go: the forged metal hand reaching up from the center, reaching as though offering the horn and waiting to receive it again.
Weakly, Stross reached up and slid the horn back between the fingers, a look of content crossing his face as he did.
“There. That feels right somehow.”
It was a small thing, but doing it made Stross’s spirits feel lighter than air. He was practically glowing with pride as he-
Wait, what’s that now?
Oh sorry... my mistake.
It was his body that was suddenly lighter than air, and he was glowing with something else entirely.
“Fen… what’s going on? I’m floating and I’m glowing. Why am I floating and glowing!” Stross started to panic as he was lifted into the air with Fenora trying to hang on.
From somewhere a wind swept up, and with his changeling vision he could see it. It was just like when they’d defeated Mirmulnir outside of Whiterun, only now the dragon soul was being funneled into him!
Everything felt strangely serene as the golden energy was channeled into him. It was soft, like sitting against a big tree atop a grassy hill, watching the sun set over the edge of the world, letting its rays wash over you until it finally faded away.
When the light did fade away, everything that had been skeletal and spindly was back to normal. Cracked and faded scales were shimmering ebony once more. Stross was healed and whole again… but with one little difference.
“Woah…” Fenora said breathlessly, staring at the pair of leathery dragon wings that erupted from the shell on Stross’s back. "Awesome."
“Hey,” she tapped on the grave, “you got any more of those?”