CHAPTER 3
Grogon retched one last time before straightening up and wiping his mouth on his arm. It wasn’t the blood or bodies that had bothered him, but the feeling that had overcome him and drove him to such brutal acts that both amazed and sickened him. With the sensation now gone, he became acutely aware of the stabbing pain in his chest. Upon closer inspection, his finger traced a shallow, almost perfectly square, indentation where the bandits warhammer had connected solidly with his chest plate. Grogon shuffled slowly to a nearby table and set his helm down. Taking a deep, painful breath, he unfastened his chest plate and set that down as well. His heavily muscled chest was obviously bruised, but no blood was present. A bone or two may have been cracked, but without Gharol’s handiwork, he would have been dead.
“Thank you Gharol.” He muttered aloud.
Leaving the armor where it lay, he walked slowly over to where the biggest bandit sat propped against the wall, still impaled by Lash’s sword. Putting his foot on the dead man’s shoulder, he pulled the sword free with a sickening squelch. It had held up nicely, the edge was still razor sharp and the tip had only been blunted a little by the force of being rammed into the stone wall. Just another thing to thank Gharol for. He thought to himself. After wiping the blood from the blade on the dead bandits leather armor, he sheathed the sword and actually took in his surrounding for the first time. The room was small, with only a couple of tables and a few chairs. It had probably been guard station once upon a time.
“Now. Time for the book.” Once again speaking aloud.
Not remembering exactly what Ghorza had said about the books location other than it being in the main building, he grabbed a torch from the wall and took off down the only hallway leaving the room he was in. Littered with debris the hallway had several doorways on each side. Quick glances revealed that the rooms had a variety of old, broken down furniture but not much else. It was also obvious that the bandits had made their quarters in that first room at the bottom of the stairs since no fires or torches were lit and undisturbed dust seemed to coat just about everything. After checking the last of the rooms, the hallway opened up into a much larger room. The several long tables marked this room as most likely a dining hall. A large stone fireplace took up most of one wall, while tattered, brown, banners with barely visible intricate patterns and designs were hung from others.. A huge iron chandelier rested on a crumpled table in the middle of the room where it had fallen long ago.
Grogon stood in the entrance and looked at the several doorways that left the room that he was currently in. Walking along the outside of the room, he glanced into each doorway as he passed. One was a stairwell that led down, another had stairs leading up. One opened to another room with shelves full of rusted pots and pans, Probably the kitchen, he thought, and another doorway led to yet another hallway. Ok, where to now?
He had stopped in front of the downward stairwell and was just about to make another circle of the room, when the faint hum of a melody drifted up the stairwell to meet him. More bandits? The thought brought a tenseness to his posture and his hand automatically reached for the sword at his side. The pain in his chest had been throbbing, but the shot of adrenaline at the thought of more bandits, dulled the pain considerably. He wasn’t prepared for another fight. While he still wore his armored breeches and boots, he had left his grieves, cuirass, and helmet in the room with the dead bandits.
The soft, melodic, tune once again droned on against the silence. Curious and on edge, Grogon unsheathed his sword as quietly as possible and started his descent. His skin began to prickle slightly as the air in the spiral staircase seemed to get colder and colder with each step that he took. The soft melody also became louder and louder, then the hum changed into unrecognizable words. Someone was singing. Reaching the bottom of the staircase safely, Grogon was faced with yet another hallway, this one ending with a closed wooden door. With the footsteps of a practiced hunter, Grogon crept silently toward the door with his sword held high and pointed forward, ready to thrust into the first target. The words of the song had finally become recognizable.
Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior’s heart.
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes.
With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art.
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes.
Grogon reached the door and put his left shoulder against it. The song was the only thing that could be heard on the other side. No footsteps, no creaking of furniture, no scraping of movement on stone. Taking a deep breath, he put all of his weight against the door and forced it open.
“Gggraahhhh!!” The deep, guttural, growl erupted from his throat as his eyes darted wildly around the room.
Nothing. The song had stopped and a deafening silence was left in its wake. Grogon stood in what appeared to be a small barracks, littered with broken beds and small end tables. The most notable thing, was that it looked like no one had been in the room for years. Dust was piled high on everything, white cobwebs seemed to drape over most of the furniture. Where had the singing come from?
“What does it want?” The whispered words split through the silence.
Grogon jumped at the voice and spun to face the intruder. Once again, he was met with only an empty room. He brandished his torch wildly trying to light every corner.
“Is it friend or foe?” The voice sounded almost like a soft echo in the room.
“WHO ARE YOU? SHOW YOURSELF!” Grogon shouted in confused anger.
“It obviously lacks manners.” The voice continued. “But it wishes to meet us, very well, we shall make ourselves known.”
Suddenly, a pale blue mist appeared in front of Grogon. At first the mist was shapeless, but as each second passed, the mist began to take form. First, the hazy outline of a body, then finer details began to take shape. Hands, a face, eyes, mouth, very old Nord armor began to come into focus. Finally, a complete, blue, transparent, Nord stood before Grogon.
“Grah!” Out of surprise and fear, Grogon stabbed his sword sharply through the image. There was no resistance however, as the sword passed through as though going through air.
The spectral Nord raised its eyebrows disapprovingly, “It lacks manners indeed”.
“Wha… Wha… What are you?” Grogon stammered.
“I am me. We are us. Can’t it see?” The ghost replied. “It obviously isn’t very bright.” It muttered to itself.
“Are you a ghost of some kind?” Grogon asked relaxing a little. “Spirit?” He finished the last word while softly dragging his sword lazily through the image in front of him in a zigzag shape, watching the disturbed areas turn to mist and back again.
The image sighed. “Specter, ghost, spirit, all work fine.” The answer came in a bored tone. “Stop doing that!” It finished sharply.
Grogon dropped his sword arm to his side sheepishly. “Oh... sorry.”
“Well it barged in here and ruined our song, we were just getting to the good part mind you.” The specter admonished. “What does it want? To ask us silly questions?”
Grogon stood slightly stupefied. He’d never met a ghost before. Are they all this strange?
“No? It came just to stare at us then?” The ghost continued when Grogon didn’t speak.
Grogon cleared his head with a shake. “Uh, no. Sorry. I’m looking for a book.”
“It wants the library then. It’s pointless, you’d never make…” The ghost stopped mid sentence and paused. “It’s been a while… It is always entertaining to see…” It muttered to itself.
“What’s pointless? What’s been a while? What’s entertaining?” Grogon asked.
The image smiled. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had company of course. It could be our entertainment.”
Grogon frowned suspiciously.
“It’s settled, we will lead you to the library. It isn’t far after all.” The ghost turned and made the appearance of walking toward a door on the opposite wall. It’s legs ended in a mist at the shin with no feet visible, so the image floated along not even disturbing the dust.
Grogon stood rooted to the spot with an uneasy feeling. Something is definitely off. But maybe all ghosts act this way. I didn’t even know ghosts were real. No one has ever even mentioned one before outside of some fictional story. The internal debate raged on.
“Come on, we don’t have forever… Oh wait… we do! Ha, we are so funny.” The ghost stood by the door chuckling at its own wit.
It’s not like I have choice. If that’s the way to the library then I’ve got to go that way anyway. With the internal debate decided. Grogon walked after the specter.
The same suspicious smile as before greeted him, “Excellent”.
The spirit turned and floated through the solid wood door. “This way, we aren’t far.” The muffled voice could be heard on the other side.
Grogon opened the door and followed the blue mist in front of him along another hallway, then down more stairs, through another room, and into another hallway. All along the ghost in front of him hummed the tune to the song he’d been singing earlier. Finally, they came to a large, ornate, double wooden door, wrought with huge iron hinges. The stone stone archway bordering the door was capped off with the image of an open book carved at the top.
“Ah, here we are.” The ghost gestured to the door with open arms.
Not acknowledging the specter, Grogon sheathed his sword and pushed the double doors open with both hands. The large iron hinges groaned with a long, loud, ccrrreeaakkk as the rusted metal begrudgingly moved for the first time in ages. The library was a massive, multi-level room. The room was circular and open to the second floor. A staircase was to his right that led to the large ledge that served as the second floor and ran the circumference of the room. The once great room was covered in thick, white, spiderwebs. Every bookcase, table, chair, wall sconce, all were draped in a white, sticky, sheet.
“Bad spider problem in here.” Grogon stated.
“It could say that.” The Specter replied from behind him.
Grogon walked to the nearest wall sconce and burned the webbing away with his torch. When it was clear, he touched the torch to the sconce and it lit at once.
“I don’t guess you can help me find the book, I’m looking for?” Grogon asked while looking for the next sconce.
The pale blue ghost floated to the center of the room looking around expectantly, “We have brought you here, that is enough.” It answered distracted.
Grogon grunted, “figures”.
After a few minutes, the entire first floor of the library was glowing with fire light and Grogon could finally see well enough to start looking at books. The numorouse wooden shelves spanned floor to ceiling and each one had to contain almost 100 books. He started with the shelf closest to him; 2920, Vol 01 - Morning Star, 2920, Vol 02 - Sun’s Dawn… The books rambled on and on with little or no meaning to Grogon. Gharol had made sure that Grogon, Umurn, and Lash could all read. But Chief Burguk had little patience for books and learning, therefore not many books were found in Dushnik Yal. After burning away the webbing on the top shelf, he noticed an ornate carved sign on the wall that read “HISTORY”. Well that would have been helpful to see before…
Grogon walked around the room with his torch held high looking for the section signs. Mythological... Nord Tales and Sonnets... Out of the corner of his eye he could make out the blue specter floating around the room, looking behind shelves. What is he up to? History… Aw damn. I’m back where I started. On to the second floor I guess.
Grogon ascended the steps two at a time and arrived on the ledge that was the second floor. This floor was much darker, but enough light drifted up from the floor below that he could make out the furniture, and instead of lighting the sconces like he done before, Grogon walked with his torch held aloft looking at the sections again. Dwemer... spells and charms... skills… Maybe it’s in here. Grogon cleared the cobwebs and began scanning titles. Jornibret’s Last Dance... The Knights of the Nine... THERE! Last Scabbard of Akrash! Grogon pulled the book from the shelf and blew the dust from the cover. Finally! It’s even in good shape! More out of accomplishment than anything else, he walked over to the ledge holding the book high.
“I found it!”
The pale spirit floated into view on the floor below, looked up, and then smiled. “So did we…”
Just then, he heard a soft clicking noise behind him. Turning quickly, Grogon was hit in the stomach and driven back into the iron rail that ringed the second floor balcony. He tried to move, but found himself immobilized as the thick web had plastered his body to the rail. The clicking grew louder as an enormous, hairy, monstrosity slowly became illuminated from the lights below. Grogon found himself face to face with the biggest spider he’d ever seen. Its legs spanned as wide was Grogon’s tall frame, its body was the size of a fully grown bear, and its mandibles were as long as short swords. Grogon tried in vain to move, but the webbing held fast. The spider crawled forward and propped its two front legs onto the rail on either side of its prey. Grogon leaned back as far as possible over the rail to avoid the mandibles that were inching closer. The spider’s fangs were merely inches away from his face when the sound of groaning iron split the air. With a loud metallic SNAP! The railing that Grogon was attached to broke free and tumbled to the floor below with Grogon still attached, where he landed with a loud “UMMPPFFF”.
The spider had remained above and moved closer to the edge to see what had become of its prey. By doing so, one of its legs nudged the torch that Grogon had carried. The torch teetered on the edge of the balcony for a long second, then fell off of the ledge and landed on top of Grogon’s torso, where it quickly burned away the webbing. Grogon grabbed the torch and rolled away from his bounds just as the spider came crashing down onto the spot where he had just been. Holding the torch in his left hand, he quickly unsheathed his sword with the other.
From out of thin air, the blue spirit appeared next to him. “It is doing well, most don’t make it this long.” It said with a wicked grin.
Grogon swung his torch through the apparition in frustration, “Be gone!” He shouted.
“Hahahaha.” The spirit laughed menacingly as the mist began to take shape again.
Grogon redoubled his focus on the spider before him. It seemed to be watching him with each one of its eyes, but it hadn’t made to attack again. What is it doing?
“Go on, make a show, it’s been soo boring.” The apparition needled.
Grogon didn’t take his eyes off of the spider this time, but swung the torch toward the spirit again anyway. The spider twitched slightly and its eyes seemed to focus on the torch. Of course! It’s been sitting in the dark for a long time and now it’s facing the numerous lights that i’ve started down here. Grogon started waving the torch in front of him slowly and was delighted to see that the spider didn’t seem to know how to respond. On impulse, Grogon lit one of the large free standing bookshelves on fire. The dry dusty books covered in dry spiderwebs burst into flame immediately. The spider jumped back slightly at the new large light source in the room. Grogon smiled and began lighting shelves on fire as he ran around the room. In response the spider stayed in the center of the room and followed the moving lights fearfully. The room began to fill with smoke and the heat was becoming unbearable when the spider began firing out spurts of webbing at anything that moved.
Circling around the room, Grogon was almost to the exit. SHIT! The book! Laying in the center of the room, under the prancing spider was the book that he’d come for. The spider continued to jump and spin at every movement. At that moment a large tapestry had caught fire on the opposite wall and fell to the ground in a loud THUMP and a puff of smoke. The spider focused on the new target and Grogon took the opportunity to move silently forward. He was a few feet from the book, which was behind the spider now, when the spirit once again appeared at his side.
“IT’S OVER HERE!”
Instantly the spider jumped and spun to where the noise had come from.
“Shit! You arse!”
Grogon swung his torch menacingly at the spider while closing in the last few feet to the book. When Grogon was over the book, the spider finally made its move to attack. The fangs shot toward Grogon, but he raised his torch quickly and jabbed it into the spiders closing face. The spider screeched loudly and swung around knocking the torch from his grasp. Without waiting, Grogon grabbed the book quickly with his now free hand and sprinted toward the door. Not chancing a look back, he could hear the fast paced clicking of the oncoming spider. Without stopping, Grogon threw the book and his sword through the doorway and into the hall, then grabbed both doors as he got to them and pulled them closed behind him. KERTHUMP! A loud thump could be heard and the doors shuddered as the body of the enormous spider slammed into them. KERTHUMP! KERTHUMP! The spider was beginning to screech loudly as it slammed its body into the doors over and over again trying to escape the blaze that was taking over the room.
“NOOOO! WHAT HAS IT DONE?!” The ghost was at his side again. “DOES IT HAVE ANY IDEA OF THE BOREDOM WE ENDURE DAY AFTER DAY OF BEING STUCK IN THIS WRETCHED PLACE?! IT WAS OUR ENTERTAINMENT! FILTHY BEAST!”
The ghost continued to shout as it swung its spectral fists at Grogon, only for them to pass harmlessly through him. The loud thumping and screeching finally came to a stop and both specter and Orc turned their attentions back to the door. Grogon stood, winded, looking at the now silent door for a moment and then stooped to pick up his sword and the book. Straightening up again, the ghost stared at him with rage before it simply disappeared without another word. Grogon once again put his sword away and tucked the book under his arm before starting back down the hallway to where he left his stuff.
“To Oblivion with this place.” He growled.
The return trip to the room where he had killed the bandits and left his armor took no time compared to when he had left it. Gathering his things, he went to the stairway he’d fallen down and stopped at the bottom. There on the floor were several broken arrows and his hunting bow. The bow had been snapped during his fall and lay in ruin. An odd feeling welled up inside Grogon’s chest. The bow had been his only companion for the last few years. His escape into the forest and away from the discrimination of the stronghold had been due to that bow and his ability to use it. Grogon grabbed the ruined bow and stored it with the other things in his arms. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave it there. It was still night when Grogon walked out the door and into the courtyard. The fresh air was like a drink of cold water to his body, and he drank it in. It also brought his aches, pains, and tiredness to bear. Walking over to the stable where the lone horse now lay in a stall, his weight seemed to increase with each step that he took. Dropping his belongings in a pile, he slumped down the wall of the stable and into some hay where he was asleep before he knew it.
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The next morning was a whirlwind. Grogon woke just as the sun was beginning to break over the horizon despite sleeping only a few hours. He put on his armor gingerly, as he was incredibly sore, and hooked the horse up to the wagon of vegetables that had been stolen from the elderly couple. Riding the wagon, he was on the road and moving toward Markarth well before noon. The trip was much faster now that he was able to ride instead of walk, and the sight of a fully armored Orc driving along a farmers vegetable wagon had garnered many sideways glances along the road. Making good time, it was shortly after midday when Grogon rounded a familiar bend in the road and looked up to see the splendor of Markarth. The sight once again took his breath.
The wagon rocked gently on the uneven path as he began his ascent up the hill toward Markarth proper. Closing in on the farm on the outskirts Grogon was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar pair working in the garden along with the farmers he’d seen there on his first trip. All of them had their heads bowed over their work and didn’t notice when Grogon stopped the wagon just outside the fence and hopped down. Grogon leaned on the fence and watched them all work, trying to remember the name that the woman had called her husband. Eran? Erar? Ereld! That was it!
“Ereld!” He shouted the name at the nearest man whose head was bandaged.
Sure enough, the older man stood up from his work and wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. Finally looking in the direction from which he heard his name, his eyes widened and he dropped his hoe. The woman beside him whom Grogon assumed was his wife stood up at the sound of the hoe hitting the ground.
“Wha?! You!?” The woman stammered loudly. The other Nord couple looked up from their work at the disturbance.
“Yeah… Me.” Grogon chuckled. “I thought you might want this back.” He continued, gesturing toward the wagon.
“I… You… Our wagon…” The words tumbled out of her mouth as the woman stumbled forward wide-eyed.
Grogon couldn’t suppress the chuckle. “Take your time.”
Ereld finally caught up to his wife when she had made it to the low, stone, fence that Grogon stood behind. “You brought us our wagon back?” He asked incredulously.
Grogon was still all grins, “I thought that much was obvious.”
The woman seemed to shake out of her stupor and her shocked expression changed to a cautious one. “What are you asking for it?”
“What?” Grogon’s smile dropped.
“What are you asking in return for our wagon back?” She continued. “We don’t have much.”
“Nothing.” Grogon said in surprise. “I cleared out the bandits at the fort because I needed what was inside. The cart was there, so I brought it here hoping you’d be here.”
It was the woman’s turn to look surprised. “Nothing!” She gasped. “You’re bringing us our wagon and asking for nothing?”
“...Yes?” Grogon drawled.
The movement was so sudden that he almost reached for his sword, but before he could move, the woman had launched herself over the fence and was hugging him tightly around the waist.
“Uh… Yeah…” Grogon stood with his arms at his side unsure of what to do.
The woman pulled back and held Grogon at arms length as she beamed up at him. “Thank you. You really don’t know how much this means.”
A little uncomfortable, Grogon pulled back from the woman. “I, uh, need to talk to someone in town.” He stammered sheepishly.
“Wait! We haven’t been properly introduced, You know my husband’s name is Ereld, I am Anen.”
“I’m Grogon.” He responded.
“Well Grogon, might I ask where you are staying?” She asked curiously.
Grogon was taken aback by the question. “Uh… I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. I don’t intend to stay long in Markarth.”
“Then you’ll stay here.” Her tone brokered no argument. “The horse isn’t ours but we’ll put it up with the other animals for you. This is my sister’s place, but we’ll be happy to have you.” She turned to her husband and continued to give orders. “Ereld.”
“Yes ma?” He snapped to attention almost like a soldier.
“Take Grogon’s horse to the stable and brush him down. Make sure you put the vegetable cart behind the house. We can take them into the city tomorrow.” She ordered. Without another word, Ereld was climbing over the low wall and going to collect the horse and cart.
“Just a second.” Grogon jogged over to the wagon and grabbed the book for Ghorza from the seat. Looking back to Anen, “I’ll… head into to town then…” Grogon stated flatly, not really knowing how to respond. It was almost like he was back with Gharol.
Anen tossed Grogon a small pouch with a few coins. “Bring back some meat from the market on your way back. I’ll fix dinner. Don’t be too long, Ereld gets cranky if he doesn’t eat.”
“I do not!” Ereld snorted with indignation.
Grogon couldn’t help but smile as he left the couple to argue behind him while he walked the rest of the way up the hill and into Markarth.
The market was just as busy as it had been the day before and Grogon skirted around the edge to avoid getting caught in the turmoil like last time. Carrying the book securely under his arm and watching everyone suspiciously as if waiting for the Khajiit from before to come and steal it, he made his way around the buildings and headed for the forge. Grogon could hardly contain the satisfaction of handing over his hard won prize as he climbed the steps in front of the forge. As before, Ghorza was working over the anvil with her back turned.
“Ahem!”
Ghorza turned at the noise with an annoyed face that immediately dissolved into a look of surprise. “Grogon! You made it back quickly.”
“Well it wasn’t as easy as just walking in and grabbing it, but here it is.” He held the book out proudly.
Ghorza took the book and ran her hand over the cover as if reliving a memory and then looked back up at him. “Tell me all about it. Leave nothing out.”
Grogon sat down on a nearby stool and launched into his story, starting with meeting Ereld and Anen on the road. Ghorza nodded grimly when hearing of the bandits and seemed very interested in how Grogon had used stealth and his bow to gain entrance to the fort. She laughed heartily when he told her about falling down the stairs and landing in a heap in front of the bandits. And though Grogon relayed the battle, he left out the strange feelings that had taken over him. He continued on, recounting his search next.
“A ghost?” Ghorza asked doubtfully.
Grogon was enjoying the story and didn’t even look up. “Yeah. Or spirit, or specter. He said they all worked.”
“You saw a ghost... and you… talked to it?” Ghorza asked again, with a look of disapproval.
Grogon noticed her change in demeanor. “Yes?” He answered confused.
“Oh and I guess next you fought a dragon that was protecting the book?” She asked mockingly.
“Well actually it was a spider, not a dragon.” He replied, getting a little angry with her tone.
Ghorza looked amused now as she stood up and absent mindedly wiped her hands on a rag. “It’s a good story. Here is some coin. Like I said before, it’s not much.”
Grogon stood and pocketed the coin a little put out with her change in attitude. “I have to go.” He said dismissively.
“You are a true friend, Grogon.” Ghorza said earnestly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thanks.” Grogon replied shortly.
Grogon walked back down the steps and made his way toward the marketplace. What was her problem? Did she not believe that I am capable of such feats? Does she think I would just make up everything to win favor? The thoughts were running through his mind so fast that he barely noticed that he’d reached the market. Grogon looked around and saw the stall he wanted near the entrance.
“MEAT! FRESH MEAT!” The vendor was once again shouting.
Still annoyed, Grogon stepped up to the stall and stared down at him. “What do you have?”
“Ah now you’ll be able to tell the quality of meats that I have.” The vendor smiled proudly. “I’ve got goat, elk, and even a little of bear if you’re feeling exotic.”
“Elk will be fine.” Grogon replied nonchalantly.
The vendor laid several cuts of meat on the stall table and Grogon immediately recognized the skilled work of an Orc butcher.
“Where did you get this? Who cut it for you?” Grogon asked curiously.
“Ahh, I knew you’d notice.” The vendor smiled. “I do a little trading with a nearby Orc Stronghold.”
“Dushnik Yal?” Grogon asked unbelieving.
“No I’ve never heard of that one.” The vendor replied. “Let me see if I’m saying this right, Mor Khazgur? That sounded right.” He nodded, pleased with himself.
Grogon’s brow furrowed, “I’ve never heard of another nearby stronghold. Where is it?”
“Bout halfway between here and Solitude. Take a left at Dragon Bridge and you can’t miss it.” He replied. “So how many cuts of meat you want?”
Grogon’s mind was racing. Could Lash be at another stronghold?
“Uh, what you have there is fine.” He answered after the vendor cleared his throat to get his attention.
The vendor wrapped the meats in paper and Grogon counted out his coins on the counter. “Thanks.” He muttered without a second glance at the man. His mind was still packed with the possibilities and he’d already made up his mind to head there first thing in the morning.
The rest of the evening sped by as Grogon returned to the small farm on the outskirts of Markarth to spend the night with Ereld and Anen. Driven with a new excitement, he seemed to drift through the afternoon in a haze. For the first time in several days, Grogon had a warm cooked meal. While he, and most other Orc, preferred their meat on the rare side, Anen had cooked the elk meat with potatoes, leeks, carrots, and celery in a stew. He had tucked in a little hesitantly at first, but soon the stew was dribbling down as his chin as his hosts looked on amused. He polished off three bowls of the stew and a loaf of bread by himself. Grogon refused to take one of the beds in the house and retreated to the small stable where his horse was kept, even though he was tired and sore from a long two days, the excitement of meeting a new Orc stronghold and possibly finding Lash kept him awake for awhile longer before sleep finally claimed him.
Table of Contents | Chapter Two | Chapter Four
Comments
And lol, buying meat in Markarth... good thing Grogon haven´t bought pork from the guy because...ya know... *cough* Hannibal Lecter *cough cough*