Breton and Bosmer

Dare you venture further?

Just here for gold	14.3%	[ 1 ]
Is this about Skyrim?	14.3%	[ 1 ]
Cool RP - the characters look interesting	0.0%	[ 0 ]
I like the story!	28.6%	[ 2 ]
What happens next?	42.9%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 7 ]

[Purplish Space Rock]

Arwen brought arrows from her quiver to hold in her teeth, though they were only three. She had to make them count; there was little room for mistakes on the side of a mountain. The first two barely caught its attention as it focused on Thessaly, having been shot right over her head. As it charged again, she fully drew back her bow and let loose, the arrow lodging itself in the beast’s neck; a little plume of fire sprang up and started engulfing its fur, put out by the wind and a thrashing claw before it could do more damage. It snapped the arrow off in its neck, blood flowing freely from the wound. The sword was still lodged firmly in its side, the handle wiggling a little as it turned and changed its course. Arwen had gotten its attention, trying to hold it long enough for Thessaly to rise.

She quickly dropped the bow around her shoulders, string across her chest, and put her hands together, both glowing red and yellow. Flame erupted from both and converged into one stream, aimed at the troll. Its fur caught fire, first its chest, then its shoulders and arms and head. It was equidistant from both of them, roaring, shrieking, and flailing in anger and pain. It beat its head and shoulders to put it out, and the fire did ebb, but its fur was still crunchy and melted to what was left of its skin. It seemed to regenerate, flesh growing back where it had been burned and torn away, blackened bits dropping to the ground. Freshly melted bits leaked, the snow spattered with blood and crunchy bits.

The troll was just getting started. Everything they did enraged the beast, from shooting it to breathing the wrong way. It came closer, charging at Arwen; it closed the gap much more quickly than she had expected, and before she could run, it swiped at her. She dropped to the snow and scooted backward, sliding down several steps as she fumbled with her bow; it was hard to pull off while moving backwards away from a blood-thirsty monster. It loomed over her and roared as she drew her bow, sending an arrow into its face. With an arrow lodged in its eye, it backed up several steps, holding its face and trying to rid the source of the pain.

[E is for Enigma]

With the troll distracted by Arwen's shot, Thessaly had just enough time to roll out of the way before the mage hurled a stream of flame at the beast. Heat engulfed the creature, narrowly missing Thessa as she rolled out of the way through the snow.

The troll recovered quickly from the blow, turning its attention once more on the Breton mage. Thessaly got to her feet, but realized that, in her haste to escape, she had left her other blade behind in the snow, and there was no time to grab another weapon.

Then she remembered--she didn't need a blade. She had one other trick up her sleeve.

She drew in a lungful of winter air, reached for the tickle in the back of her throat that knew what to do, and pushed it out.

"FUS!"

The blast of warm air caught the troll dead on, brushing harmlessly past Arwen and driving the great beast into the side of the cliff, stunning it. Thessaly leaped up and dashed over to it. Before it could rise, she grabbed the hilt of the blade still stuck in its side, wrenched it out, and drove it deep into the troll's throat. It gurgled furiously for a few moments, then perished.

Thessaly let go the blade, panting hard, recovering herself for a moment. The shout was tiring, but not physically. It seemed to come from its own strange reserve. She knew she wouldn't be able to do it again for a while.

[Purplish Space Rock]

Arwen flinched at the Shout, taken off guard by the powerful, invisible force; it was enough to blast a troll back, and she could only imagine what it could do to a person. As Thessaly finished it off, blood almost spurting from its neck, its flesh stopped regenerating itself. She rolled over and got to her feet, a little cold now that she was covered in snow. She brushed it off herself, smiling broadly as she looked up. Approaching Thessaly and the troll, she put her bow back in its clip and put her hands on her hips.

“That’s fascinating!” she said, again almost vibrating in excitement. “I didn’t know you could do that! And you say you have no magical inclination, lies!” Arwen turned to the troll and started pulling arrows from it, inspecting the head of each one closely. “Wasn’t that great fun?” she said. She was quite cheery despite the fact they’d nearly been mauled to death, or could have been thrown off the mountain. “That’s a story to tell in a bar, I’d wager.”

She pulled the arrow from the troll’s eye with a disgusting wet, crunchy noise, followed by a small snap. The head had stuck itself in its skull, so she tossed it over her shoulder, lifting the troll’s arm to find any more.

“What else can you do with that?” Arwen finished collecting her arrows, so she sat on the ground to clean them, rubbing snow over them and brushing it away. No need to get troll blood in her quiver. “That’s some pretty powerful stuff. Much more powerful than anything I can do.”

[E is for Enigma]

"Not much," Thessaly answered, searching the snow for her other fallen blade. "Honestly, they're supposed to be the ones with the answers." She gestured up the mountain. "I can't do much more than what you just saw. And it's not magic, it's just...." Thessaly kicked around in the snow until a glint of silver shone through the white. "I don't know, actually. It's just a word I somehow grabbed outta some dragon's brain." The memory of acquiring the word was still a little confusing to her. She remembered gold light and a rushing noise, and there was that smell of burning... it wasn't unpleasant, but it was incredibly alien.

"Ah, yes, the tale of how the dragon born and the future arch mage nearly got their asses handed to them by a furry snow gorilla. Brilliant. The bards will sing of it for years!" Thessaly was much less enthused with the experience. She was glad they'd defeated the creature, but it had been a near thing. It had been a long while since Thessaly had been disarmed like that; forced into a corner. Or a cliff's edge, as it were. She didn't like it. She'd have to keep her wits about her up here. If Arwen hadn't been there... she didn't want to think about that.

She plucked up her second fallen blade and examined the edges of both to make sure they hadn't been damaged. She found that, in addition to troll blood, the blade she'd slain the creature with was coated with something semi-clear and viscous, like snot. She was quite certain she'd shoved this one into its throat, though, not up its nose. She gave it a sniff.

"Ugh," she groaned. It was foul. "What is this stuff?" It dripped attractively from her blade, congealing in the snow.

[Purplish Space Rock]

"'Future arch mage.' Funny!" Arwen didn't look up for some time, busy with her arrows. Once they'd all been properly cleaned (well enough, really, blood was hard to get out), she stuck them back where they belonged, getting to her feet. She first saw Thessaly recoil, second noticing the oozing goo on her blade. When it processed, which took a little longer than normal, she gasped and threw her hands up in glee.

"Fat! Troll fat! Good job!" she exclaimed, digging through her pack. "Ooh, I'm glad you've got some! Troll fat can be pretty hard to find, and it's expensive, too. You can do all kinds of things with it! You've never seen it before?" She pulled a dark bottle from her pack, as well as a soiled arrow. Without asking permission, Arwen started scooping the goo from Thessaly's blade into the bottle, tongue sticking out as if it required a great deal of concentration. "It doesn't normally stick to arrows, and I'm not one to go carving out a chunk of troll hide just to get to the fat. You saw how thick and tough that hide is, I'm not going to blunt a blade just trying to get in there."

With enough fat in the bottle to satisfy her, Arwen discarded the arrow by stabbing it into the dead troll's face. She put a cork in it, stuffed it in her bag, and leaned over to brush snow between her hands to rid them of the dead troll scent.

"We should do alchemy together! We can visit an apothecary. My favorite part about apothecary visits is buying containers and deathbell."

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly watched Arwen collected the foul goop with a look of horror and disgust on her features. It didn't improve when she learned what Arwen planned to do with the stuff.

"Alchemy?" she gagged. "You mean, potion making? You drink this stuff?"

She wiped her blades in the snow, then dried them thoroughly before stowing them in their sheathes.

"You can keep that potion nastiness to yourself," she told her companion. "I'll stick to good old fashioned herbs and magic for my needs. Potions just aren't healthy. Never know what's in 'em, or how stuff'll mix together with your insides."

She made another gagging noise and spit in the snow.

"Come on," she said. "I don't imagine the stink of that thing can get much worse, but if it can, I don't want to be around to find out."

[Purplish Space Rock]

"But many potions are just herbs," said Arwen, looking excited. She was generally an excitable person, made only more high-energy at the prospect of making potions and casting magic. "Some health potions, for instance. Dartwing, blue mountain flowers, and warbler eggs make one. It's all food and herbs, but it makes a delightful elixir that warms you from the inside out."

Arwen nodded in agreement- the troll did rather stink- and followed along, a spring in her step. She imagined Thessaly wasn't feeling too keen after being thrown about, but she still couldn't help feeling peachy.

"I understand not wanting to ingest troll fat, too. I don't personally eat it, but I'll make potions and sell them to other people." She gave a sly smile, feeling a little proud of herself at duping others into buying disgusting ingredients and potions. "I'll admit, potions taste awful. You really can't make any of them taste good, with the ingredients in them."

The wind died down as they walked along, the snow still falling, but it was falling less and less, making their vision much clearer. Arwen was finally starting to get tired ten minutes out; they'd climbed perhaps a mile, which was harder than it seemed. Climbing stairs and going uphill took much more effort than walking straight.

[E is for Enigma]

Thessaly half-listened to her companion attempt to sell her on the use of potions, but better folk than her had tried, and Thessa was having none of it. Potions just didn't sit right with her. She could watch the entire process unfold before her eyes, have the final say on whatever ingredient went into that bottle, and she still wouldn't trust it. Magic of that level was just so foreign to her--too much unknown. She wasn't a scholar or a true mage, so she supposed that had a lot to do with it, but she had no intention of becoming either of those, and she'd gotten along fine for years without the stuff, so she couldn't be bothered. More for her companions is usually what that meant. And when there weren't any, that stuff sold for a pretty penny. Everybody wins.

"Hey," Thessaly noted at one point, an uncommon note of interest in her voice. "I can see Riverwood from here."

She had thought the old spires in the distance had looked familiar--it was the ruin that stood up the hill and across the river from the small village where Hadvar had taken her after Helgen. She wondered how he was doing. His was a face she wouldn't mind seeing again. Someone familiar and friendly, not to mention handsome, who probably didn't hate her for running away in the middle of the night, like some other familiar faces she could think of. After a lengthy pause at the cliff's edge, clouds rolled across her vision and obscured Riverwood from sight.

The rest of their climb up the mountain was uneventful, compared to the troll. They found it necessary to dispatch a wolf pack farther up the hill, but Arwen took out several with her bow and magic from a distance before they got close enough for Thessaly to take out the remaining beasts with her twin scimitars. It was actually a little reassuring for the elf to get some good clean wolf's blood on her blades. The fight with the troll had left a bad taste in her mouth and a foul smell in her nose. She was a bit lighter in her step and conversation after that.

They climbed for most of the day, resting when they needed to, and eating when they were hungry. But with the sun setting on the distant horizon, the high, thin air of the mountain was cooling even more rapidly. Thessaly tucked the flaps of her helmet inside her cloak to keep the warmth in, but it was little use. When the hell were they supposed to reach the top? And Hrothgar was at the top, right? They hadn't accidentally passed it in the midst of a flurry, had they? Thessaly groaned at the thought. Perhaps she should have thought to ask for clearer directions before she'd started this crazy thing.

"Hey," she called ahead to Arwen. "Hrothgar is supposed to be at the top of this beast, right? How close you think we are?"

[Purplish Space Rock]

At the mention of Riverwood, Arwen looked around, eyebrows raised.

"Riverwood? You sound fond of it," she said, smiling a little. Arwen kept about the same pace as they walked, though her energy reserves were waning. The thin air was starting to get to her, and she could feel it in her chest; the air was just barely insufficient. When questioned about its whereabouts, she shrugged. The wind suddenly blew hard, enough to stop them in their tracks.

"I'm sure we'll know it when we see it. It's at the tippy top, and if we're not at the tippy top, we haven't seen it." She turned her attention upward, and immediately regretted it, as snow fell all over her face and stuck itself under her shawl. There was still quite a bit of mountain to climb, but they had made a lot of headway; they had perhaps a couple hundred yards to go, but it was hard to tell in all the snow.

The higher they climbed, the worse the snowfall got. Arwen thought it was bad a few miles down, but their current location shattered that belief. They passed a small cave- small enough that the back of it was just barely visible- and finally a monster building came into view. Its pillars and rooftops were flat and square, with narrow, minimal windows. There was a dual staircase that flanked the largest central pillar. Up there, the wind was fiercer than ever, and the snowfall almost caused their vision to white out entirely.

"Look, see? We didn't miss it," said Arwen, pointing up. She again looked up, but kept her attention there, taking in the massive structure. She let Thessaly pass her and followed behind. "After you."

[E is for Enigma]

"Yeah, well, it was the first place in Skyrim the inhabitants didn't try to kill me, so I'd say Riverwood was a pretty nice place." She took a couple more respectful moments for her memories of the little village, then followed Arwen up the icy steps.

When they arrived at the cave, it was getting dark and harder to see the steps in front of them. Fortunately, the mountain was mostly coated in snow up this high, making the path before them luminescent in the growing starlight. Unfortunately, the snow was deceptively deep in places, and by the time Thessaly caught sight of the small cave, her pants were soaked through to the inner layers.

She jogged up the hill to the cave mouth to duck her head inside. It wasn't much warmer than outside, but it wasn't wet or windy, either. She was about to suggest they both take shelter inside when Arwen called out that they'd found their destination. Thessaly jogged back down the hill to join her and they approached High Hrothgar.

Just around the corner from the cave, Thessaly's attention caught on a giant but weathered statue up against the cliff face. It was bracingly familiar to the girl who had spent many days of her youth in the Temple of Talos in Chorrol, listening to tales of the legendary dragonborn--the man who had become a god. For a moment it hit her, being here, following in the footsteps of this epic figure. She was part of that legend now.

Gods, what the hell was she doing?

Well, there was no turning back now. It was too damn cold to head back down the mountain, and she was ready to get out of the wind--she was sure Arwen felt the same. The stairs up to the temple were much more solid and sharp than the well-weathered stones of the seven thousand steps. Thessaly wondered idly how many feet had taken this same path. Certainly a lot less than the mountain steps. She wondered why that was. So folk didn't actually go into the temple once they'd reached it? Weird.

It was a strain to climb so many steep steps after their trek up the mountain. With all the walking she'd done between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, Thessaly didn't think she'd have ever been prepared for this kind of trip. She'd be feeling it all in the morning, she was sure.

The doors were large and solid, the rings cold iron that bit through her gloves as Thessaly reached out to tug them open. It was dark inside, and cold winds sucked at the doors, as if trying to draw them into a yawning void. Quickly as she could, Thessaly darted inside with Arwen on her heels. The doors slammed shut behind them and the winds died.

"'Mina, Mal'cath and Molag Bal!" Thessaly spat. "It's colder in here than it is out there!"

The stone walls were smooth and unweathered, throwing her voice back at her in a hollow way. She shivered in the dark hall, chaffing her arms. Without the aid of the star- and moon-light from the outside, she felt blind. On impulse, she conjured a couple dancing lights. She wouldn't be able to hold them for long, and they did nothing to ward off the cold, but at least they'd be able to see.

[Purplish Space Rock]

Arwen peeked into the cave as well, entirely out of curiosity. Maybe there was loot inside, or a creature that needed killing, but it turned out to be empty except for a pile of wood and what looked like a single rolled up blanket, all of it lightly dusted with snow. Everything seemed to be covered in snow in Skyrim, and if it wasn't, it was about to be. The last several steps really took it out of her, lending to her exhaustion. At the mention of Molag Bal, even in passing, Arwen flinched.

"I don't know, it's hard to tell where's colder," she said, smiling as her voice also echoed. She dropped her hands from her shoulders and stood on her toes, calling into the cavernous building. "Hel-looo!" she called. Her voice echoed again, which seemed to delight her, for she tittered lightly.

"So what do you think? It looks like no one comes all the way up here. I imagine no one is really welcome in here unless they're the Dragonborn." Arwen lowered her voice so it didn't reverberate, trying to be a little more respectful. She was in someone else's home, and a sacred place, after all. "I'd wager that's why the steps are so much more defined closer to here. What do you think happens next? What do they want with you? If they already know you're the Dragonborn what else could they possibly need?" She was almost talking to herself as she looked about the temple, starting to wander, as if her feet had a minds of their own.

Arwen approached a pillar and started looking around it, unaware that she was probably overstepping her welcome or unspoken boundaries. She was also oblivious to the man who stepped down into their space, wearing heavy, elaborate robes, his beard tied at the end. The man stopped and stared, and Arwen looked around, smiling in a friendly way. She felt a little odd, standing so far from Thessaly- it was her journey, really- and moved back toward her, standing behind her. The man's gaze followed her, and his expression was somewhere between mild suspicion and mild distaste. In the brief silence, Arwen gave the smallest wave, wiggling her fingers. Maybe she was a little too friendly.

[E is for Enigma]

"I don't know," Thessaly admitted, keeping her voice down as well. She didn't like the way it echoed in here. Almost foreboding. She didn't elaborate on her thoughts about what interaction she might have with the Greybeards. When she'd started this journey, she had been half hoping they'd have some way to take the dragon born powers from her. From the very beginning, she had wanted nothing to do with them. But saying that in these walls felt wrong, somehow. Like blasphemy. She might call the names of the daedric princes blithely--all the street kids of Cyrodiil did, perhaps in the futile hopes of attracting their attention--but dismissing the powers of the dragon born where they were most valued didn't seem like such a good idea.

Besides, seeing that statue of Talos outside had stirred something new in Thessaly. A sense of purpose, even responsibility. She didn't like it.

Arwen noticed the old man before Thessaly did. He was gray, like the building around him, and seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Thessa didn't blame the girl for darting behind her like she did--his presence was a little unnerving. After their lively if devastatingly cold romp up the mountain, it felt more frigid in here.

"So, you have finally come to us, Dragonborn."

Thessaly glanced back at Arwen, just to make sure he hadn't mistaken her. But no--he seemed to be looking directly at Thessa.

"Well," she replied. "It's not like I could have missed that call." The sound that had come off that mountain had been bone-shaking, like thunder.

The old man paced slowly around them, like an old saber cat. "You took your time in heeding our call."

"I don't know if you've looked outside lately, but there's quite the blizzard out there," Thessaly said. "Kinda makes the trek up a bit harder."

The old man paused, hands linked behind his back.

"It has been months."

Thessaly looked away, mouth twisted uncomfortably. It hadn't been that long, had it?

"No matter," said the old man. "You have come, in this time of our need, and it is time you were tested."

"A test?" Thessaly couldn't keep the whine from her voice. She'd just climbed a bloody mountain in a blizzard! Hadn't he heard that part? She was tired! She was up for some stew and a bed and that was about it!

"To see if you have the gift," the old man said. "To see if you truly are the Dragonborn."

"Look," said Thessaly. "I'm pretty sure I'm who you're looking for. I can do that shouting thing and when the dragon died it got all glowey and I learned a special new word. But right now I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm hungry, and I'm sore, and you're standing in between me and a bed, so I'm not about to hang around for some bloody test of some stupid power I didn't want anyway!"

Thessaly hadn't realized she'd been shouting until the echo of her own voice bounced across the room and back. The old man stood there silently, arms linked behind his back, an unamused look on his face as Thessaly's echo slowly faded. When the silence returned, the old man's expression hadn't changed.

"Of course," he said finally. "It was selfish of me to ask for a display of your abilities so soon after your journey. We have awaited your coming for hundreds of years. It can wait one more night."

Thessaly let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Come with me, Dragonborn. I will find a place for you to rest in the cloisters."

He took a step towards a side hallway, then paused and turned back to them.

"I am sorry," he said. "But your friend may not come with you. This is a temple for the students of the Voice. No one else."

[Purplish Space Rock]

Arwen couldn't help but snicker. It really had been months since the world rumbled with their call, but it wasn't as if she cared, considering she wasn't the Dragonborn, thank goodness. A place to rest sounded nice- she hadn't assumed she would be coming along, but she also wasn't aware she would be cast out into the cold at the top of a miles-high mountain. At "No one else," her shoulders slumped and she looked exasperated.

"Alright, so I climbed an eight mile tall mountain, fought a troll, wolves, and bears along the way, walking through a blizzard and ten mile per hour winds, and I'm being pushed out into the negative temperatures, in the same blizzard we walked through, because I'm not good enough to stand in a giant stone building that probably has cold, hard stone beds." She took a large breath, paused, and let it out in a heavy sigh, twirling one of her little braids around her fingers. "Fine. I suppose I'll just go set up camp, outside, in a blizzard that won't hold a fire. I guess it's only a little less windy out there anyway."

Looking rather cranky, she hitched her pack a little higher on her shoulders, standing up straight again, and turned about-face. She put her back into pushing the massive doors open, being a bit of a weakling, and walked back out into the cold, leaving the door open halfway. If she was going to be cast out, she wasn't going to be nice about it either.

As if to spite her, the wind was blowing harder than ever outside, likely due to the fact that they were practically in the clouds. Their footprints were already partially obscured by fresh snow as she followed them back down to the little cave they had passed. It wasn't much- maybe twenty or thirty feet deep, and only six or so feet wide, but it was something. Arwen chose to make camp in there, dropping her pack at the back and utilizing the small fire pile, probably left behind by another traveler. She rummaged about in her bag and removed her blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders before she started the fire. It flickered quite a bit, but with more magic it strengthened, just enough to cast sufficient light and a little heat. The cave at least shielded her from the terrible wind, though it did very little for the cold. It was probably just the same inside- it had, actually, been just as freezing in there.

She suddenly felt very, very lonely.

[E is for Enigma]

"Now wait a second--" Thessaly started, but there didn't seem to be any room to argue. Arwen was out the doors before she could say much else.

"I apologize if you found that harsh," the old man told Thessaly. "But the Way of the Voice is an ancient and secret art, and could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. Each of the other monks here have taken vows of silence, so as not to risk the lives of others with our Voices."

"Then how come you can talk?" Thessa asked, a bitter note still in her tone. "How come I'm not being blown across the hall?"

"I have practiced and meditated for this moment," the Greybeard explained. "So that I might speak with you, Dragonborn, when the time came."

"The name is Thessaly," she replied testily. "Not Dragonborn. I didn't sign on for the title. That's what I came up to talk to you about."

"I am Master Arngeir." The old man apparently hadn't heard her. "For now you may rest here."

Arngeir halted before an open archway in the stone, leading into a small stone cloister with little more than a bed and desk inside. It was possibly the bleakest room Thessaly had ever seen.

"I will call on you in the morning," Arngeir told her, then turned and walked slowly back down the hall.

Thessaly stepped into the room. It wasn't any warmer in here than it was in the rest of the temple. And with nothing stronger than the half-spent candle on the desk to burn, Thessaly foresaw a very cold night of rest here. Regardless, she set down her pack and took a seat on the bed to remove her boots.

She nearly cried out in pain--the bed was solid and cold as ice! She jumped up and threw off the blankets and furs. It was stone! The bed was made of stone!

This was psychotic. She was supposed to sleep here? It was bad enough they didn't do anything to keep out the freezing cold, but stone beds?

"Screw this," she growled. She rolled up the furs and blankets, shouldered her pack, and strode back into the hall.

It wasn't hard to find where Arwen had gone--the snow hadn't yet obliterated the new tracks leading up to the cave. Thessaly ploughed through the drift as quickly as she could, and was met with an unbelievably delightful warmth as she filled the cave's mouth.

"Gods and stars, that's better," she said. She strode into the little niche and tossed her armful of blankets and furs into Arwen's lap, keeping one for herself. Then she took two arrows from the girl's quiver and used them to wedge the edges of one blanket into the top corners of the cave's entrance, forming a makeshift door.

"There," she said. "That ought to keep some of the wind out."

She came back to sit opposite the little fire from Arwen, taking one of the furs out of her lap and laying it down as a pallet.

"Stone beds!" she cried. "Can you believe they've got stone beds in there! No wonder they're so crotchety. Probably haven't had a decent night's sleep their whole lives. Nasty old codgers. All holier-than-thou. 'I will call on you in the morning'. Pah! He can come out into this bloody blizzard and get me, the wanker."

She systematically stripped out of her boots, weapons, and armor as she spoke, then dug another blanket out of her pack and threw it over herself, using another rolled up blanket as a pillow.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish, 'swhat I say," she grumbled, tucking herself into her makeshift bedroll. "Anyhow, goodnight."

[Purplish Space Rock]

Thessaly unexpectedly appeared in the mouth of the cave, and Arwen was about to speak when she started off on her small rant. Arwen shut her mouth and let her go, for once. She jumped a little when the furs were thrown in her lap, eyebrows raised. She raised a finger in protest when the other snagged her arrows, but she saw their purpose and put her hand back down, brow furrowed. Thessaly seemed particularly agitated.

She stayed quiet until Thessaly stopped talking, when she finally had a moment to catch up.

"Did you steal these? I guess they're not stolen if you're giving them back, they're just borrowed," she muttered, not necessarily meaning to be heard or listened to. "I'm glad you like the fire, it's not going to last terribly long. I'll refresh it when I can, though. It really is better than in there, it's at least a little warmer." She snickered at the mention of crotchety old men. "Most beds in Skyrim are stone, actually. Most people put hay or furs on them to make them warmer but it doesn't help much, I don't blame you. Are you really going to make them come out and get you?"

Arwen took the remaining fur and laid it down for the same purpose, curling up and tucking herself into her blanket as cozily as she could, though she wasn't one to remove her armor- it was too cold for that, and she was too skinny. She wiggled her fingers at Thessaly and pulled her shawl up over her head, looking a bit like some kind of dead, grotesque creature.

"Sleep well," she said, squirming a little.

The last light of the night faded away and, as if to spite the night, the wind and snow became worse than it had in the entire day combined. It whistled and blew so much that snow barely had a chance to settle on the ground. Snowfall was heavy, flakes were large, and there was even hail, evidenced by the rather loud ticks it made on the rock. Arwen was a heavy sleeper, despite being cold and uncomfortable, but she woke every couple hours to refresh the fire, poking at it with her boot and otherwise avoiding all other movement.

When the sun started to rise, the wind and snow became less biting, and the first rays of light shone right into the cave around the bits of cave not covered by the blanket. One of the arrows fell off the stone, leaving the blanket flapping about in the wind. Arwen continued to sleep, face pressed up against the wall of the cave.