"Val, why don't you think any of this is strange?" I asked, shifting for the hundredth time to keep the deer's spine from digging into my rear.
"Think what's strange?"
"That this creature, for whatever reason, has vowed to take me to 'complete my task'?" We wound down a twisting trail that slowly descended to the golden tundra, which, at this time of year, was a riot of budding plants and new growth. On a chilly breeze came the moisture from the falls tumbling wildly on our right. In the rapids, I glimpsed fish leaping to catch lace-winged flies zipping through the air. The scene would have been idyllic were it not for the gnats that nipped at our arms and faces and whined our ears.
"I don't think it's any more unusual than a band of vampire hunters hauling you out of your house. Or dragons speaking languages like people. Or power-hungry militants kidnapping small children," he replied with a smirk.
"Touché." The deer beneath me gave a stuttering wheeze, and for a moment I worried it was ill. When his head bobbed up and down as if nodding, I knew then the creature was laughing.
At length, we descended into the basin, where the sun shone high and bright, warmth cutting through the cool wind from the surrounding mountains. Meeko loped ahead of us, barking and gamboling in the tall rushes. We strode past a guard bearing the sigul of Whiterun on his cloak. The guard in question turned a suspicious eye towards us, watching our progress from the fork in the road where the path wandered off into the wide plains. Marching before us in a regimented line was a squad of Imperial soldiers leading a prisoner on a line like a dog on a leash. The poor man gazed longingly at the edible plants sprouting from the farm's soil, and the farmers glanced apologetically at the bound man in return.
We trotted alongside the group just as I chewed a strip of dried venison. When the prisoner saw the deer that bore me, his eyes widened in surprise, then longing and hunger, finally closing to distrustful slits. "Elves and their magic," the man glowered, his voice rolling in a thick Nordic accent. "It's all because of you that my own people would arrest me. May Talos smite you."
Sighing, I put away the meat I prepared to slip into his tunic. People like that don't want help anyway, I rationalized. I moved on, resigned.
There came a sudden yelp of pain from behind and I turned to see Valindor twisting the Nord's ear. His voice was a soft, venomously playful whisper as he spoke to the prisoner. The man's eyes loomed even larger on his face, then his cheeks flushed a violent hue. He glared crossly at the Bosmer who sat beaming upon his horse. "Bloody elves," he grunted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Valindor's fingers drop something into the prisoner's hands, and an expression of gratitude flashed across the Nord's face. That deed done, the mer caught up with me.
"What did you say to that Nord?" I asked as we stabled Brelye and the deer.
"That you were the Witch of Falkreath and would make his root shrivel and fall off if he kept muttering curses at your back."
"Why did you tell him that! I don't want that reputation!" I cried, rounding on my friend.
"It was only a joke. Nothing serious."
"Nord's don't know how to take a joke! He'll tell his friends and they'll come after me!"
"They won't come after you. Don't be so paranoid," he scoffed.
"That'll be two septims, elf," grumbled the stableman, his hand outstretched and impatient. Periodically, his eyes flicked to the deer whose antlers continually left gouges in the rafters.
"My apologies," I mumbled. Gold clinked into the Nord's calloused palm. He watched me placidly out of the corners of his eyes as we ambled up the drive leading to the city.
Without our distracting mounts, we passed relatively unnoticed into Whiterun. At the gate, we waded through the guards' discussion of a man they were calling 'dragonborn'. However, we hurried along, keeping our heads down and hoping no one would remember the Bosmer woman who once arrived with an Argonian uttering an endless thu'um. Though, I highly doubted anyone would really recognize me; for I arrived broken in body and spirit, and left drunk and confused like so many others suffering the effects of war and battle. In all likelihood, Derkeethus and I's passing had been largely disregarded.
As we walked up the main street, I thought of the Nord I tracked across the marshes and fields. Where was he? What had he done to upset the Thalmor enough to have Ondolemar order me to track him? It was, on the whole, none of my business, but the matter left a bad taste in my mouth. He must be dangerous, I concluded. For the stories of the murders at the Thalmor Embassy had crept all the way to Falkreath, and many a drink was raised in his name and to his praise.
Yet that was neither here nor there, and in my absent thoughts, I didn't notice when Valindor left my side. Quickly, I looked about, worried that my ruminations had come to life and this mer-killer was here in Whiterun. Of course, there was nothing but the sun baking on the clay bricks and merchants hawking their wares at passersby. At last, I spotted my friend negotiating with an elderly woman at her stall. Coin was exchanged and his hand dipped something into his pocket.
He was turning to rejoin me when he stopped and a shadow clouded his features. "What's wrong?" I started to ask, but I clamped my mouth shut with a click when I felt a large paw drop onto my shoulder.
"Didn't think I'd see you around here, little starling," rumbled a deep, feral voice behind me. His breath was hot in my ear, and his fingers slithered under the collar of my shirt to touch my bare skin. I froze, all at once thinking of the dragonborn mer-killer and the wolfish man who visited me only a few nights ago. For a moment, I was certain they were one-and-the-same and I'd be dragged away or killed right there in the street. Then, the fear passed and I remembered the somber, hunted face of the Nord I had followed and knew that was not the case.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, defiantly.
"My bed's been cold of late, and I think I could use a feisty little witch to warm it." With a jerk, I twisted away from him, effectively pulling his probing fingers from my armor.
"I said, I don't know what you're talking about, and if you're wise, you'll leave me be." My fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword, ready to draw it and fight this man in a middle of a crowded street if it would send him from me.
"Is there a problem?" queried Valindor, stepping to my side as Meeko let out his own warning bark. The dark-haired Nord backed away, disgust crossing his features.
"No, no problem," he growled in a reluctant retreat. His eyes followed me lewdly as he departed for some other area of town. With a sigh of relief, Valindor and I paced in the opposite direction, where the Temple of Kynareth lay waiting.
"Thank you," I said softly, not quite meeting my friend's gaze.
"Don't mention it. So, is this the tree you were dreaming about?" And it was then I noticed we had paused beneath the Tree of Whiterun's barren branches. Flowers sprung about its roots in a bid for the sun's attention.
"Yes! That's it. I don't know why I didn't recognize it before," I exclaimed. Excited by my discovery, I placed my hands on the tree's wide trunk, feeling for the life within. Valindor joined me, and at almost the same moment, our smiles of delight and recognition fell into dismay. The venerable plant's life force felt even more stretched than before, and within the sense of desperation to cling to Nirn was even greater.
"I think you're supposed to save it," suggested the Bosmer. "That must be what your dream is trying to tell you."
"You may be right."
I glanced at the temple behind me, apprehension growing at the thought of returning to the place where my troubles truly began. "Sometimes you have to walk in a circle to travel in a straight line," my father once said. It seemed in this case, I would need face the gravesite of another one of my fallen companions. I heaved a sigh and felt Valindor's hand slip into mine, offering a squeeze of reassurance.
Mustering my courage, I opened doors of the Temple of Kynareth, which squeaked slightly from rust, and stepped into its cool chamber where chimes and bells rang in a never-ending breeze.
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