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Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions	By : NoLoreMaster Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 3241 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bethesda Softworks is the creator of the The Elder Scrolls Universe, so logically, this isn't mine. This fanfiction is non-profit and fan-made. Hope that covers it. Don't eat me D=

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Here it is. Chapter 4. I hope you enjoy reading it because the pace is finally going to pick up from here, I hope.

Enjoy your read and day.

The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 4
Farengar had hoped to spend his evening in peace, tinkering with enchantments or perhaps potions, but to his annoyance, someone was waiting for him in his room where he had headed back after dining with the Jarl at the long table.

The person awaiting him, was his ‘reliable resource’; an unnamed, mysterious woman whose face was obscured from him by a hood, but from the few glimpses he had caught of her face, Farengar estimated her to be about sixty years old. She was clad in leather armor and wore wool pants below her greaves. “Have you made any progress at all?” she queried, leaning back against the pillar that supported the ceiling and also conveniently kept her out of common sight.

He glared at her. “I’m the Jarl’s Court Wizard. I’m not permitted that much lenience in neglecting my day-to-day tasks.” He retrieved an orange, leather-bound book from a nearby bookshelf and threw it on the table.

“Holdings of Jarl Gjalund…?” The woman browsed through the pages, skimming the content.

“If you read closely, you can tell the terminology is from the First Era, if not earlier.” Farengar rolled his eyes. Did he really have to explain the most obvious of things? He joined her to point out what he meant. “It seems here that it’s all dated just after the Dragon War, meaning I could cross-reference the names with other, later text.”

“So you have made progress.” The woman’s bossy demeanor was most annoying. “My employers have been eager for tangible answers.”

“Given the news from Helgen, the Jarl actually permitted me to devote more time to this research.” Farengar knew he was contradicting his earlier statement, but the woman didn’t seem to be bothered.

The woman sounded grave, lowering her voice to a hushed tone. “You should remember this, Farengar. This isn’t some theory you’re delving into. Dragons have returned.”

“Yes, yes, but of course. Just imagine the chances of seeing a dragon up close…”

Farengar’s voice trailed off and followed his resource’s sharp gaze.

“Ah, the Jarl’s protégé.” Farengar saw the bag the Dark Elf held and noticed he was no longer wearing that shoddy tunic to hide his armor, which definitely wasn’t your common, leather armor he was familiar with. It was dark in color and the subtle hint of a most strong enchantment could be detected. What kind, however, he wasn't sure. “Have you been successful in retrieving the tablet like I asked you?”

“And I assume you were successful in arranging payment?” Ganir didn’t even look at Farengar. The woman had caught his eye and recognized her from the Sleeping Giant Inn. He wasn’t sure what to conclude from this just yet, but didn’t like either of the theories that ran through his mind.

Farengar was greedy for the tablet, and made to step forward. “I will want to-,”

“Farengar!” Irileth had come storming into the room. “You need to come at once. A dragon was spotted nearby!”

Ganir tried to hide his concern. Cirilonde was waiting just outside of Whiterun and on top of all, was this dragon the same they’d seen at Helgen?

“The Jarl called for you to come as well, stranger.” Irileth emphasized ‘stranger’ with disapproval. No man came walking to Whiterun and remained unnamed. And despite her efforts to gain information on him, all she knew was that he was travelling with a golden-haired, Altmer female.

Ganir had the mind to object, but he didn’t want to miss out on a reward for his work and he was curious about this dragon. He followed Irileth and Farengar up the stairs behind the Jarl’s throne, where Balgruuf stood waiting with a young, visibly shaken guardsman.

“Now that they’re here, I need you to tell us again what happened.” Balgruuf said to the guard, who told them he had just made his rounds around the tower and headed up its stairway, when he heard the odd flurry of wings and his comrade cry out as he was swept from the tower’s battlements by a dragon, who then tried to eat him as the tower was burnt down, tearing at the stone before it gave up and flew off. After waiting, his fellow men told him to run for the city and raise the alarm.

“Retreat to your barracks for the night, lad. You did well.” Balgruuf dismissed the guard with an approving pat on the shoulder and then turned to Irileth. “Gather a regiment right away. This isn’t a do or die mission. We need to find out what we’re up against and if we can kill it.” He looked at Ganir. “As for you, don’t think I have forgotten you friend. I have not rewarded you for your selfless efforts just yet, but given your skill, I’d like to call upon you for a final time.”

Ganir suppressed the urge to show his discontent. This man was clearly mistaking him for some do-gooder. “I want two horses saddled.”

Cirilonde was sat near the city gate and watched the sun set while eating some bread and cheese. Her mind wandered as she relaxed for the first time since arriving in Skyrim, when suddenly, she was snapped back to reality.

She shook her head, rubbed her eyes and looked around. No one had seen what she just saw, so had she even seen what she thought she had seen? I swear I just saw a dragon fly around the mountains…

The Altmer shot to her feet when the Whiterun city gates burst open and a fierce-looking, Dunmer woman on horseback, followed by guards, came storming from the gates.

“You there! Gather all the merchants and get them into the city!” She yelled at the gate guard before digging the heels of her boots in her horse’s blanks, urging it to hurry.

Ganir was the last to emerge from the gates on a brown steed, holding the reins of a dappled mare as well. “Get on, Ciri. Big trouble. Follow me.”

Cirilonde didn’t hesitate a moment or ask for explanations and climbed on the horse’s back to follow Ganir.

The loud thunder of hooves resounded on the cobbled path as they raced towards the North watch tower. Irileth had rallied six men in total, which all came to a halt not too far away from the tower, which stood ablaze and was torn apart. It was a miracle it hadn’t collapsed.

“This doesn’t look good.” Irileth dismounted her horse after beholding the tower’s fate. She then looked at Ganir and Cirilonde, surprised to see them.

Everything went haywire the moment these Outlanders showed up…

“I need all of you to be cautious,” she said to her men and motioned for them to follow her.

“Are you sure you want to get involved with this?” Cirilonde looked at Ganir, worried. So I wasn’t imagining things earlier…

“All I want to know is if the dragon is the same as the one in Helgen.”

“Let’s secure the horses then, but I don’t like the look of this.” Cirilonde was reluctant to dismount and took the reins of both horses, using a simple telekinesis spell to secure them to a thick root that sprouted from a crevice.
“It’s the Housecarl!” Cried a guard who had come out the tower once he heard Irileth’s voice. “Irileth, you need to stay back! That dragon could be back any minute!”

As if on cue, a roar echoed through the skies and from the mountains surrounding Bleak Falls Barrow came the dragon with its wings spread, swooping down over the tower with its maw wide open, engulfing anything in its way in hot-white flame. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

Two of the guards succumbed instantly while the third got trampled by his horse, which rear-ended him in its panic to escape.

Ganir watched the dragon, fixated. This wasn’t the same dragon as the one in Helgen, yet, he felt that strong, undeniable pull that seemed to have been a slumbering part of him. He hated to admit it, but it scared him.

He drew his bow and readied an arrow. “Ganir…”

He didn’t even hear Cirilonde’s voice anymore, who ducked for cover and when the dragon swerved around in the sky to come back, he could tell that the beast was looking back at him. He pulled the muscle string back and watched the beast come closer and closer by the second, the impact of its wings causing gusts of air. His aim didn’t waver and he released the arrow just as the dragon came close, opening its maw. The arrow shot straight into the beast’s maw and the dragon bellowed in rage as it sputtered and shook its head to get rid of the arrow that was stuck in his mouth. The dragon was so disoriented from the pain it nearly crashed into the flaming debris around the tower, but it made a recovery just in time, kicking off from the ground and shot off for the sky again.

“Stay out of its flightpath!” Irileth barked her orders at the guards and got in line with them, readying their own bows and arrows as well. “Shoot when ready!”

The dragon opened its maw, flames bursting from its nostrils before it…laughed? “Prem, joor. Dinok bo fah hi!”

Memories of Helgen, the Bleak Falls Barrow and now this dragon flashed before Ganir’s eyes and he realized the dragon wasn’t just growling, snarling or roaring. It was speaking.

“Get on the higher ground to get a better aim!” Irileth beckoned for her men to climb the rubble and gain a safe, yet higher ground, which was the last error the men made. Irileth was just in time to duck for the dirt as the beast took a dive and picked one of the Whiterun guards in his maw and slammed its tail down in the hopes of hitting someone. The guard met a most unfortunate, painful end as the dragon swallowed him alive.
Cirilonde ran over to Ganir, who pushed her away. “Run, Ciri, it’s not safe!” Ganir released another arrow and it hit the dragon’s belly. It roared in anger and made a sharp turn.

“Get over here, girl!” Irileth pulled Cirilonde behind her, readying her shield because the dragon wasn’t going for Ganir, but it was going for them. “Run!” Cirilonde didn’t need to be told twice and the two elves ran over the field while Ganir shot one arrow after the other to get the dragon’s attention.

“Get down!” Cirilonde was thrown to the ground by Irileth and the ground shook as the dragon landed before them.

Cirilonde’s heart raced as both she and Irileth looked into the golden-brown eyes of the beast. “Hi fen wahl flogah kipraan, fahliil” To walk on land, the dragon used its wing talons and it inched closer to them.

Irileth’s lips curled into a snarl and she shot to her feet, ramming her shield against the dragon’s snout, before slashing at the beast’s lower jaw with her sword. The dragon retaliated by snapping it’s jaws at her. Irileth had raised her shield just in time but as it shattered to pieces, so did the bones in her arm and she cried out in anguish. Ganir then decided it was now or never and when he finally had a clear shot at the dragon’s eye, he released the arrow and the dragon reared, turning away from Irileth and Cirilonde, who had raised a magical ward.

“Duraal fahliil. Zu'u fen lost hin klov.” The dragon was furious and swung his head in Ganir’s direction, narrowing its remaining eye while the other had been blinded by the arrow. It looked awfully painful.

Ganir smirked, satisfied with the result. “Playtime is over, fetcher.” He hadn’t felt alive like this in ages! He taunted the dragon as he slung his bow back over his shoulders and unsheathed his daggers. He wasn’t sure why he was so confident, because there was the minor issue that the dragon’s scales functioned like a near impenetrable armor, but he had a blind angle on the dragon now.

The dragon pulled its leathery lips into a snarl. “Know that you face Mirmulnir, elf, and I will be your demise.” But Mirmulnir, the dragon, had made one error, because Ganir ducked out of his way when it snapped its jaws at the Dark Elf and since he was partially blind, Mirmulnir could not see where the elf had gone. Ganir ran with the dragon’s motion and when he made it close, grabbed hold of a horn that adorned the beast’s head like a crown and straddled the dragon’s neck, stabbing away while trying to hold on.

“Nid! Dovahkin. Niiiiiid!” Mirmulnir frantically swung around, trying to hit Ganir with his tail, rearing and crying out with pain. Blood spattered all over Ganir as he chopped at the scales and flesh before finally, Mirmulnir collapsed and died.
A most tense silence followed as they all stared at the dead dragon before them. Irileth stared at Ganir and the beast while cradling her arm, while Cirilonde stared wide-eyed, still not believing that Ganir had just actually single-handedly slain a dragon.

“Is…Is it dead?” Her voice trembled.
Ganir didn’t answer, staring intently at the dead dragon. Of the nine men in total, only one of the guards had survived and he stood trembling on his legs as he came crawling from behind the debris.

The dragon was dead. They’d done it. Ganir jumped off the dragon and wanted to leave with Cirilonde when the guard pointed and cried, “By the Divines, look!” Ganir and Cirilonde turned and saw that the dragon’s flesh began to crackle and smoke before bursting into flame that whirled straight to Ganir. It was so fast he couldn’t dodge it, except when it hit him, there was no pain, only energy that became a part of him.

They all stared at Ganir, dumbfound, who was still trying to process what had just happened when the guard seemed to gather what little wits he had and made a little jump. “Dragonborn…You are dragonborn!”

“What are you flapping your gums on about, fool?” Irileth still cradled her broken arm. It looked exceptionally painful and one could see the bone protruding from the flesh.

Just as the guard made to explain, a voice came like thunder from the skies, causing a wave of energy in its wake. “Doooov-ah-kiiiin!”

“See, did you hear that? Did you hear that?!” The guard was simply ecstatic. “That was the Voice of a Greybeard to summon him to High Hrothgar!”

But Ganir would have none of it and leapt on his horse. “Where do you think you’re going?” Irileth snapped.

“To High Hrothgar.” Ganir galloped off at full speed and Cirilonde ducked past the guard who tried to stop her and she climbed on her horse as well, racing after Ganir. Her hair whipped past her face as she tried her best to stay in the saddle.

“Ganir, wait!” she cried, but he wouldn’t stop until the landscape changed from rolling, grassy hills and plains to snowy and even colder than she thought possible. “Auri-El, Ganir stop! They’re not chasing us!”

Finally, she caught up with Ganir, who wasn’t sure why he had raced off, but the dragon becoming a part of him finally took the cake and he didn’t want to look at Cirilonde.

“What in the blazes was that all about?” Cirilonde panted, holding on to her sides as they stung and caught her breath.

“I’m still trying to figure out myself as well.” Ganir still wouldn’t look at her until she put her hand on his arm.

“We’ve been through this much already. You’re my friend.” She squeezed his arm, which he hardly felt as his thick leather gloves were in the way.

“I was actually scared.” Ganir chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “That’s been ages. But still, really, what the hell happened?”

“I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.” Cirilonde said, trying to process what had occurred as well. “I don’t know whether I should find it assuring or not that it wasn’t the same dragon as the one we saw in Helgen.”

“All we know now, is that we slew a dragon and that I am something the Nord called a Dragonborn…” Ganir’s voice trailed off. “Something with Greybeards and High Hrothgar…”

“Do you want to look into it?”

“Not just yet.” Ganir’s lips then curled into a smile. As distressing as everything had been, Cirilonde’s presence had been pleasant and soothing. “Though I am certain a place called the College of Winterhold may provide some answers before I rush into anything else.”

“The College’s Arcaneum holds one of the most impressive, vast collections of knowledge. They should have the information you need.” Cirilonde and Ganir led their horses along the road. “Not to forget that it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“Isn’t Winterhold one of the greatest cities?” Ganir raised an eyebrow.

Cirilonde shook her head and told him about all she had found out about Skyrim from books at home, including the one that told about The Great Collapse, which occurred two centuries ago, which caused the Sea of Ghosts to swallow most of Winterhold during a terrible storm of which the cause was still left to speculation.

The further they travelled, the colder it got. Especially once they passed Windhelm and the wind began to pick up, whipping into their faces as the snow flurried around them. It grew increasingly difficult to guide the horses through the thick snow, but finally at long last they saw Winterhold…or what remained of it. It was a most saddening sight, but what took their breath away, was th immense building on a rock in the sea that towered over all. That had to be the College.

A stone archway with statues stood over the bridge, which was illuminated by fonts, which emanated magical, blue light that shot into the sky.

The pair dismounted and led their horses to the bridge, where a female, blonde Altmer stood waiting. She wore a colorful, embroidered red wool tunic with a yellow sash and woolen pants that protected her from the elements. “Ah, the last arrival of the new lot of students,” she said to Cirilonde.

Though she was postured and graceful, she seemed far more friendly than most Altmer women Cirilonde knew back in Alinor. They always had a certain patronizing demeanor and tone to their voice.

“I am Faralda, your Destruction instructor. You must be Cirilonde, but we weren’t expecting you, Sir…?”

“Ganir Mathendis.” Ganir replied. “If it’s not too late or an issue, sera, I would like to enroll.”

“It’s certainly unconventional for us to accept last-minute enrollments, but since you are the only one, I could discuss it with the Master Wizard Mirabelle to see if she’s willing to make an exception.” Faralda motioned for them to follow her across the bridge. “Be careful on the bridge. The last storm tore away at the stone and its slippery.”

As they followed Faralda, they refrained from peering down into the dark water that crashed into the rocks far below them and indeed minded their step as they could feel the ice below the thick layer of snow that cracked under their boots.

On the other end of the bridge was an iron gate with the Arcane Eye depicted in the ironwork that led to the rotund College’s courtyard, which was overlooked by the statue of a mage that seemed to cast a spell on the large font in the center, which illuminated the entire courtyard.

Along the sides of the courtyard was a sheltered walkway and to the left and right of the gates, were two doors which they later would learn they led to the junior dorms (The Hall of Attainment) and the seniors’ dorms (Hall of Countenance). The entrance to the College, the Hall of Elements, was behind the statue.

“I believe I made myself rather clear, Ancano.” The woman who spoke sounded most annoyed. The conversation seemed to be taking place behind the statue and Faralda motioned for them to slow down a bit, though they weren’t sure as to why Faralda was so eager to hear this discussion.

“Yes, of course,” came a disdainful, haughty sneer. “I’m simply trying to understand the reasoning behind the decision.”

“You may be used to the Empire bowing to your every whim, but I’m afraid the Thalmor receive no such treatment here. You would do well to remember that you are a guest at the College at the pleasure of the Arch-Mage. I hope you appreciate the opportunity.”
Cirilonde froze when she saw that Ancano indeed was a Thalmor agent, clad in the typical leather, black and gold robes. Ganir dragged her along and she averted Ancano’s cold, golden eyes. He then looked back at the Breton woman, who he’d been ‘talking’ too and scowled. “Yes, of course. The Arch-Mage has my thanks, Mirabelle.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, Ancano, have a nice day.” Mirabelle, the Breton woman, sneered, glaring back at the Thalmor who pulled his hood back over his silver-white hair before pacing off, cloak billowing after him.

“Has he been at it again?” Faralda tutted once she was sure Ancano was out of earshot but cleared her throat when Mirabelle gave her ‘the look’ to not press the matter. “Cirilonde has just arrived. The last of the new batch of apprentices. This is Ganir Mathendis, who would like to enroll last-minute.”

“And by what proficiency ought we to permit your enrollment?” Mirabelle raised a brow. Ganir certainly didn’t fit the studious, individual stereotype given the armor and arms he carried. She found it most peculiar that someone with a background like Cirilonde’s would be travelling with him.

“Illusion and Alchemy,” Ganir replied. It took him effort to not stare Mirabelle down. He wasn’t all muscle and brawn.

“Very well then. What are the results if I combine distilled Juniper Berries with boiled Namira’s rot and ground, Nordic Barnacles?”

“You will have to forgive me, sera. I am only familiar with the alchemical components and appliances from Morrowind and Cyrodiil. Hence why I am here.”

Everyone’s interest was suddenly piqued. An immense lot of alchemical knowledge was lost when the Red Mountain erupted and didn’t just kill a lot of people, but also a lot of its flora and fauna.

“What can I make if I combine Green Lichen and Willow Anther?” Mirabelle asked.

“A common potion to cure most diseases,” Ganir replied, almost amused by the simple question.

“And what of crushed emeralds with raisin?”

“Ashlanders add Trama Root to make a tea that enhances the healing process and dissolves the emerald dust better.”

“Most impressive,” The woman nodded and shook their hands. “I am Master Wizard Mirabelle Ervine. Welcome to the College of Winterhold, the both of you.”

Despite the fact she was introduced as such, Mirabelle Ervine was certainly young, at fifty years of age, for a Master Wizard and even looked rather plain for the role. She wore blue and silver robes with a black sash; a combination no one else wore and she had her greying, brown hair bound back into a bun.

“Allow me to show you around before I take you to your dorms.” Mirabelle said and took them into the Hall of Elements, which was illuminated by the same, blue-lit torches. Their footsteps echoed through the room, which was currently occupied by senior mages who practiced their conjuration and other spells. In the center of the room stood another, large font that lit the entire room as well, humming and flickering. On the outside, the Hall of Elements must have looked spooky with its windows flickering in different shades and tones.

Mirabelle then took them up the stairs to the right of the entrance to the College, where they were shown the Forum, where everyone gathered to eat and lounge. Aside from basic information and rules, Mirabelle also pointed out the stairs up to the astronomy tower, the Arch-Mage’s quarters (which was strictly off limits unless summoned) and finally, after being shown some class-rooms, Cirilonde couldn’t contain her excitement when they entered the Arcaneum.

Ganir on the other hand, while interested to a certain degree, had already seen enough and seemed rather bored, stifling a yawn.

To both their surprise, however, the Arcaneum, with countless of bookshelves and cabinets, wasn’t tended too by some dusty, bearded old fellow, but a white-haired, grumpy old Orc.

“Make sure these wet-eared clods know that I will get a bunch of angry Atronachs on their behinds if I see them muck up my books!” he snapped at Mirabelle as they left.

They headed down the stairs and went back outside after Mirabelle asked someone in the forum to prepare some ‘proper attire’ for Ganir and she took them to the Hall of Attainment after pointing out the Hall of Countenance, which was off-limits for students unless assisting or studying with a senior. The Hall of Countenance and Attainment were both the same in appearance; a rotund tower of which two levels were used to house the students in separate rooms which consisted of a bed, washing basin, a desk and wardrobe, again lit by the same type of magical light in the center of the room.

“Everyone has their own room and can tend to their studies and rest within the confines of their rooms lest they do not interfere with anyone else’s research or experiments. For any experiments relating to conjuration, destruction, alchemy or enchanting, we prefer you use the laboratory to prevent fire.

“Breakfast is served between six and nine, lunch is between twelve and two and dinner is served between six and eight. We do permit for one to eat in their dorms but please keep them clean and tended too.” Mirabelle said to them after she pointed their rooms out. “If you have any questions now or later, feel free to ask anyone. If there are any concerns, do not hesitate to come to me for it’s part of my duties as Master Wizard.”

“I think we’re good, Master Wizard. Thank you for all the information.” Cirilonde said, kicking Ganir whose head lulled as he leaned in the doorway to his room. His head shot up and he nodded before glaring at Cirilonde.

“Very well. I will see you at dinner. Take your time to get comfortable and acquainted with your fellow apprentices. The schedules for all classes will be handed out t dinner.”
“What was that for?” Ganir grumbled. She hadn’t hurt him, but still, how was anyone able to keep their eyes open as Mirabelle had just been droning on and on and on.
Cirilonde chuckled. “You just got in. Do you want to get kicked out already?”

“If they knew how we got here…” Ganir shook his head. “You should get changed. You look like you lost an arm-wrestle with a mudcrab.”

“I don’t recall mudcrabs being capable of flight or breathing fire.” Cirilonde’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Shh!” Ganir hissed.

“Hey, you must be the new ones as well.” Cirilonde and Ganir’s eyes both shot to the Dunmer female who had peeked out of her room. She was pretty, with thick, dark-brown hair and big, red eyes that looked friendly along with the smile. “I’m Brelyna Maryon. Yes. House Telvanni.”
She leaned rather close to Ganir as she shook hands with him, her eyes locking with hers, before she shook hands with Cirilonde. “Don’t mind him. He’s a tad moody because we had a long trip,” Cirilonde received another glare from Ganir. “This is Ganir. I’m Cirilonde.”

“So lovely to meet you. This is such an impressive place…and more importantly, far away from the family.” Brelyna added with a wink. When Ganir muttered something in his own, native language and with the roll of his eyes, locked himself in his own room, the two women giggled. “Oh he’s definitely tired all right.”

“Don’t hold it against him too much. We had a rough trip to make it here.” Cirilonde apologized.

“Oh, the men of our kind…” Brelyna said with a dismissing wave of her gloved hand. “Give him a nap and some sujamma and he’ll be back to his charming, grumpy old self. Let’s head to the forum so I can introduce to you to the others. It’s almost dinnertime anyways.”

Cirilonde looked at the closed door to Ganir’s room and though she was initially hesitant, she changed into her apprentice robes of the college and joined Brelyna t the forum where everyone had gathered for dinner.

“Hey everyone. This is Cirilonde. Cirilonde, meet everyone,” said Bralyna. “This here is Onmund.” She pointed to a young, Nord fellow with blond hair, blue eyes and a kind face. “This is J’Zhargo.” The Khajiit’s face broke into a typical, thieving grin with bared teeth.

“So this is all of the newcomers then?” Onmund looked surprised and confused.

“well, you would know, Onmund,” said Brelyna. “Nords aren’t too fond of anything that can’t crush a skull with something big and clumsy, like you said.”

“True, but still…”

“Don’t worry, there’s a five of us in total,” said Brelyna. “The fifth is Ganir. He’s still in his dorm.”

“Tired from the trip.” Cirilonde apologized. “He’ll probably be with us after he’s changed.”

“Well, more food for us, then.” Onmund shrugged and now it was their turn to scoop up their meals, he began scooping whatever he could reach. Cirilonde looked at the quite elaborate buffet which consisted of simple foods such as stews, mashed potatoes and a variety of fruits and vegetables. It was nothing like the cuisine in Alinor and much more somber than the food she knew from Cyrodiil, but she decided to not be picky and give it all a go and see what she liked most.
As they sat down, they talked and all got to know each other. Onmund was a simple farmer’s son, who despite his family’s objections, decided to finally head to the College of Winterhold because he didn’t want to waste his aptitude of magic and wanted to study. Brelyna Maryon was from a House Telvanni family and though she could’ve gone to the Arcane University or remained at home and be taught there, she wanted to be as far away as possible from her family, who held high expectations from her.
Then there was J’Zhargo, who typically avoided discussing his background too much, but indicated that the College of Winterhold held a lot more of his interest because no politics were involved and Skyrim seemed like a land of opportunity despite its unrest. The whole statement immediately reminded Cirilonde of Ri’saad.

The atmosphere was most pleasant and Cirilonde enjoyed meeting everyone. Finally, after eating her fill and feeling tired, she excused herself and retreated to the Hall of Attainment and knocked at the door to Ganir’s room, which was next to her own.

“Ganir? Do you have a moment?”

“Sure. What is it?” Ganir opened the door and ran a hand through his black hair, yawning. “Sorry, I took a nap.”

“And I see you helped yourself to some wine,” she chuckled, pointing at the stains on his tunic. “You should get rid of that and change into your robes if you didn’t get them already.”

“Oh yes…I have.” Ganir wiped the droplet of wine from his mouth and turned quickly to kick something under his bed and then hold up the robes. “Got them.”

“So, what do you think of the place?” she asked.

“I’ve not seen much of it yet, obviously.” Ganir said dryly. “That Brelyna girl seems all right.”

“We’re with but five in total,” Cirilonde said. “Onmund, Brelyna, J’Zhargo and you and me.”

“Great…Be sure to mind your belongings. Nchow Khajiit.” Ganir grumbled. “What about you. Do you feel … safe?”

“I’m not sure yet, to be honest. That Ancano…he unnerves me. Though I’ve not seen him since we got here.”

“Probably slithering about somewhere.” Ganir said. “If it’s any reassurance, keep in mind what Mirabelle said. That Thalmor bat would be a fool to try something here.”

“You’re right.” Cirilonde nodded only to yawn and stretch. “I should go to bed,” she smiled. “Thank you for everything, Ganir. I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

Ganir’s lip twitched in a small smile and nodded. “Sleep well, Ciri.”

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Thuum.Org is drunk at times. Nah, just kidding. It tends to not flawlessly translate flawlessly and gramatically correct from and to one language back to the other. But hey, you get the idea of what is said.
Prem, joor. Dinok bo fah hi!: Patience, mortal. Death comes for you!

Hi fen wahl flogah kipraan, fahliil! : You will make a fine meal, elves!

Duraal fahliil. Zu'u fen lost hin klov!: Cursed Elf, I will have your head!
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Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions