The next morning they rose early and wandered down the stairs to get food. Dardeh found himself on the receiving end of several sly glances from Lydia when Roggi wasn’t looking. Roggi had shared Dardeh’s bed that night. Dardeh was growing more comfortable with that; neither of them had any problem sleeping with the other nearby, and Dardeh found it comforting. Lydia teased him about it anyway.
“So,” she whispered to him when they were as close to being alone as one could get in the small house, “you are sleeping with him after all.”
Dardeh rolled his eyes. “Sleeping is the operative word, Lydia. You know, resting, eyes closed, snoring, maybe having dreams? That. The fact that it’s in the same room…”
“Same bed,” she grinned at him.
“Well stop it. I’m sure he would not appreciate the idea,” Dardeh told her, frowning. About the last thing in the world that I want is to make him uncomfortable. I don’t want him to leave me.
“Yes, my Thane,” she said, making a face at him.
“You’re getting to be impossible, Lydia.”
“Yes, dear.”
Dardeh couldn’t help it; he laughed and walked toward the door, turning to point at her.
“Impossible.”
She grinned at him and went back to her breakfast.
Dardeh shook his head and snickered as he and Roggi walked toward the long steps to Dragonsreach. “I love that girl,” he said, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Roggi.
“Oh, I see how it is, now,” he chuckled. “What am I doing sharing your bed, then?”
“Told you it’s not like that, fool,” Dardeh said, smiling. “I love her like she was my own sister.” He pondered that for a moment as they passed the dead Gildergreen tree in the center of Whiterun. “Well, maybe I would love my own sister. I don’t know. It seems less likely all the time that I’ll ever know.”
“I’m keeping my ears open,” Roggi told him. “Told you, I’m good at listening. Haven’t heard anything so far, but that doesn’t mean I won’t, and if I do we’ll go wherever the lead takes us. But right now we need to deal with this dragon business.”
Dardeh smirked. “Yes, sir.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be giving orders. It’s just that you have been acting odd since you got back from Solstheim and this is hanging over us – over you. It’s something we can do, now.”
Dardeh nodded at him. They mounted the stairs and entered Dragonsreach to find a mostly empty hall; only the servants were rustling about. They stopped before the throne and looked at each other.
“Why are you smiling?” Roggi asked him.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because it feels like we’re finally going to get something accomplished. I hear voices upstairs. Ready to go talk to Balgruuf?”
“You’re the one talking to Jarls, not me. Let’s go.”
Balgruuf was leaning over his map table, along with Irileth and Proventus Avenicci. Flags placed on the map showed the status of each city in each hold, whether Imperial or Stormcloak-controlled, and it looked as though the province was fairly evenly split. The flag atop Whiterun was red – Imperial – which surprised Dardeh. He’d been under the impression that Balgruuf was more or less neutral in the matter of the civil war, but perhaps not.
Balgruuf looked up at Dardeh and gave him a warm smile. “Hello there. I’m pleased to see you again. What can I do for you?” He turned his gaze back to the map.
Dardeh took a deep breath. Polite but preoccupied. I understand. Well here we go. This had better work.
“I need your help. I, uh… need to trap a dragon in the palace.”
Balgruuf said nothing for a moment. He slowly turned his head to look back at Dardeh, and gave a small, sarcastic laugh. “I … must have misheard you. I thought you asked me to help trap a dragon in my palace.”
Dardeh nodded. “Yes. I understand that the great balcony out there once served as a trap for a dragon, and we need to use it again.”
Balgruuf straightened up, crossed his arms, and shook his head. “What you’re asking for is insane. Impossible! Why let a dragon into the city when we’ve been working so hard to keep them out?”
Dardeh turned to look at Roggi, who had been standing quietly at the corner of the map table. He simply nodded. Dardeh turned back to Balgruuf and met his gaze as directly as he knew how.
“It’s the only way to stop the dragons, Balgruuf. Alduin has returned.”
Balgruuf’s eyes grew huge. According to the stories he himself was a direct descendant of Olaf One-Eye, the First Era Jarl of Whiterun who had captured the dragon Numinex in Dragonsreach and had later gone on to become High King of Skyrim. If anyone understood the meaning of Alduin’s return, it was Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.
“Alduin? The World-Eater himself? But…” He paused, looking nervous for the first time Dardeh had ever seen. “How can we fight him? Doesn’t his return mean it’s the end times?”
Dardeh sighed. I don’t blame him for being nervous. It is the end times, according to all the legends. Alduin is terrifying. I don’t even know whether we can defeat him at all. Paarthurnax doesn’t know either. All we can do is try.
“Well, maybe,” he said. “That’s what all the prophecies say. But I’ve killed other dragons. Lots of them, now. If we’re going to go down, I plan to go down fighting. What about you?”
Balgruuf responded to that, as Dardeh had hoped he would. He was nothing if not the quintessential Nord and the mention of battle against overwhelming odds was all he needed to hear. He broke into a broad smile and his eyes sparkled.
“No Nord could have said it better. I’ll stand beside you, Dragonborn. Now then. What’s this nonsense about trapping a dragon in my palace?”
“I need a dragon, sir. So that I can get to where Alduin has gone. We almost had him, Roggi and I,” and he turned to smile at Roggi, “but he got away. Another dragon is the only way for me to fly to where he is and I intend to do that, if I can. And kill him.”
Balgruuf nodded, but his face fell and he heaved a sigh.
“I want to help you, Dragonborn. And I will. But you have to help me first. Ulfric and General Tullius are both just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Do you think they’ll just sit idly by while a dragon is slaughtering my men and burning my city?” He shook his head. “No, I can’t risk weakening the city while we’re under the threat of enemy attack. I’m sorry.”
He looked genuinely sorry, too, and Dardeh understood that. He would like nothing more than to take part in something larger than himself, the way his ancestor had. But his first duty and his constant priority was the safety of Whiterun. Otherwise, Dardeh thought, he would never have sent me, someone he didn’t even know at the time, to fight the first dragon that had appeared.
Dardeh’s mind raced. Well if it’s the war that’s the issue I just need to stop it. Then he laughed at himself. What in Oblivion am I thinking? Me, stop the war? Well I guess there’s nothing to lose.
“What if,” he said slowly, “you didn’t need to worry about one side or the other attacking you?”
Balgruuf’s eyes narrowed. “Then of course I would help you with your crazy dragon-trapping scheme. But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep.” He looked down, his brow furrowed, and was quiet for a few moments; then he looked back up at Dardeh. “What about the Greybeards? They’re respected by all Nords. High Hrothgar is neutral ground. If they were willing to host a peace council…”
Up the mountain? Again? Twice? Dardeh glanced at Roggi. His distress must have been obvious. One corner of Roggi’s mouth twitched up into a slight smile and he nodded.
“All right. I’ll go speak to the Greybeards and see what we can come up with.”
Balgruuf smiled. “Aye, Dragonborn. Maybe you can stop these dragons. And the war as well.”
Dardeh and Roggi turned to leave Dragonsreach. Roggi whispered.
“Nicely done.”
“What are you talking about? Now we have to go climb up to High Hrothgar again and who knows what that absurd old man will say.”
Roggi chuckled. “Well we will at least be in good shape, won’t we?”
“Heh. There is that.”
_______
Master Arngeir was eager to speak to Dardeh once they entered High Hrothgar.
“Alduin. We heard the Dragonrend Shout from here. You defeated him?”
I had forgotten that we didn’t speak to Arngeir on the way down, before. I wonder why he didn’t go up to the summit himself and speak with Paarthurnax.
“We did. In a sense,” Dardeh said, sharing a smile with Roggi. We. I’m not letting them overlook your part in this, and I don’t either. “We brought him to ground, we almost had him dead, but then he escaped. I need to find out where he went.”
Arngeir sighed. “I feared as much. I thought that I saw him flying east after your battle.”
“Well, I spoke to Paarthurnax afterward. I need your help. I need to capture a dragon, so that I can follow Alduin.”
Arngeir frowned. “We are not warriors. What is overlooked in the Dragonborn is not permitted to any other followers of the Way of the Voice.”
“Oh, no I don’t mean that I want you to fight it. I’ll take care of that part. Sorry for the confusion. I need your help to stop the war.”
Dardeh wasn’t certain, but he thought that Arngeir came very close to rolling his eyes. Yeah, I understand – stop the war, is that all? I’m sorry.
“You misunderstand our authority. The Greybeards have never involved themselves in politics.”
“Jarl Balgruuf won’t help me while the war is raging, and the only way to capture a dragon is to use the trap in Dragonsreach. Both sides respect the Greybeards. He thought that maybe…”
Arngeir nodded. “I see. Well. Paarthurnax has made the choice to help you, thus this is the road we must walk. Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems. So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them. We will see if they still remember us.”
Outside High Hrothgar, Dardeh stood facing into the wind, smiling, and stretched. They started down the steps.
“I don’t know why, Roggi, but this feels like the most progress I’ve made on anything in… months. It feels so good.”
“Mmm,” he heard from behind him, and turned to look. Roggi had an odd expression on his face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, well, um… Maybe I’ll just stop off in Kynesgrove while you’re speaking to the Jarl of Windhelm.”
“What are you talking about? Of course you’re coming with me. Aren’t you?”
“Oh, sure, of course,” he said. “But I’d just as soon skip the meeting with Ulfric. He and I don’t exactly see eye-to-eye, you know?” He looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Dardeh peered at him. “Well, sometime you need to tell me what this is all about. But I really do need you there with me. If you’re willing. Tell you what, let’s go to Solitude first. If we can’t get Tullius to agree, we’ll have no reason to go to Windhelm. We’ll just go back home to Whiterun and try to figure out some other way to save the world.”
Roggi glared at him. “I know. I’m sorry. Gods!” he snapped, then sighed. “All right, I’ll come with you. But let’s do Solitude first. I need some time to prepare myself.” He shook his head. “How did I ever get myself into this?”
Dardeh was annoyed, and let Roggi know it.
“Ha. A question I ask myself every day. Because I’m certain I got up one morning thinking it would be a great idea to fight dragons, travel across the sea to deal with another Dragonborn in a plane of bloody Oblivion, and climb up this godsforsaken huge mountain more times than I can remember. And back down it as well.”
“I know, Dar,” Roggi said, quietly this time. “I’m sorry. I have no real use for the Jarl of Windhelm but I’ll work on it. I’ll go where you need me to go. Lead the way.”
____
All the way to Solitude Roggi went out of his way to avoid telling Dardeh what was bothering him about this particular task. He protected Dardeh, laughed with him, made camp when they needed to stop, and kept telling Dardeh that was how a true Nord fought whenever Dardeh made a good kill of a saber cat or a wolf. He was particularly impressed by an encounter with some bandits, in which Dardeh sent a couple of them flying through the air with Unrelenting Force. But Dardeh was watching him, and noticed that whenever he thought Dardeh wasn’t looking, his face dropped into a grim expression.
He asked about it, finally, when they were seated beside the campfire.
“I can see that going to Windhelm is really bothering you. What is it?”
Roggi waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve only been there once or twice, I think, in ten years. Just after I first met Dag. That was hard enough, but at least I didn’t have to go to the Palace. Like I told you. I was a Stormcloak. I don’t like Ulfric. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore, if that’s ok.”
Dardeh nodded. “All right.” Talos knows Roggi doesn’t ask much of me, I can at least respect that. But it’s not going to stop me from wondering, and from feeling bad that he’s this uncomfortable.
“I’m also a little worried about you,” Roggi said, much to his surprise.
“Really? How so?”
Roggi searched his face, his own solemn. “Those bandits back there. You were pretty… brutal, I guess you’d call it, finishing them off. Are you OK?”
Ah. That. He had been brutal. It was true. After he had Shouted the men down he’d attacked and it had been a bit like meeting the pod of Cultists on his way to Windhelm for the ship; he’d almost lost track of what he was doing, and the results were fairly ghastly. It was almost as though his father’s swords had a life of their own sometimes.
“I’m ok. I think. I hope so.” He sighed. “Maybe. You know, I never used to kill anything more than a wolf or a saber cat. Or a slaughterfish. It kind of makes me sick.”
Roggi nodded slowly. “I remember that. From just after I joined up. And then later. It almost gets to the point where you don’t see the blood anymore. Or you do but it… doesn’t matter.”
Dardeh stared at him, thinking about the Imperial and Stormcloak patrols he’d seen stepping on and over each other’s corpses on the road. I never thought about Roggi that way, but of course he’s seen it.
“I’ll be ok. I’m sure I will.”
No I’m not.
_______
General Tullius was stationed in a lower level of Castle Dour with his Legate and other officers when Dardeh and Roggi found him. The castle, and the room where he was, reflected Solitude’s status as the capital of Skyrim. The city was ancient, but the buildings were in fine repair, the stonework sumptuous, the room itself hung with rich tapestries, its furnishings old but of finely-carved and well-polished wood. Tullius was, in fact, the grey-haired man in the ostentatious red cloak who Dardeh remembered from the long cart ride into Helgen. He wasn’t exactly pleasant, but neither was he rude; he was simply a military man in the midst of a war, all business. He glanced up at Dardeh and made a snap judgment that the man in the dark armor was there to join up.
“Speak with Legate Rikke. She will determine if you are Legion material.”
“Actually, sir, I am here with a message from the Greybeards.”
Tullius raised an eyebrow. “The Greybeards? What do those old hermits want with me?”
“They’re convening a peace council at High Hrothgar, an opportunity for parley on neutral ground between you and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. It is very important.”
He snorted. “Why? There’s nothing to discuss as long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful Emperor.”
Dardeh noticed Roggi grimacing. This must be difficult for him. He has something personal against Ulfric, but he was after all a Stormcloak.
“General Tullius, we need a truce until the dragons are dealt with. They are a much bigger problem than the Stormcloaks right now.”
“Ha,” he said. “The dragons are getting to be a problem, but I wasn’t sent to Skyrim to fight dragons. I was sent here to quash a rebellion and that’s what I intend to do. A bigger problem than the Stormcloaks, you say? I’ll be the judge of that. Besides, by all reports the Stormcloaks are suffering just as much as we are from these dragon attacks.”
Dardeh nodded. “Everyone is. And you’re just going to keep losing men over and over if we don’t do something. I haven’t noticed a lot of reinforcements coming in from Cyrodiil. Am I wrong about that?”
Tullius looked uncomfortable. That was a good guess on my part, wasn’t it.
“I may have a way to deal with the dragons but I can only do it if we have at least a truce. Besides – I hate to put it this way, but can the Empire actually afford to snub the Greybeards?”
Tullius stared at Dardeh for a few long moments. “Hmm. You may have a point. I’m always surprised by how seriously the Nords take these things.”
Dardeh smirked. Don’t ever underestimate your enemy, Tullius. I’ve done that and almost died more times than I can count.
“You’ll come to the peace council, then?”
Tullius sighed and waved his hand. “Yes, yes. Fine. I’ll come to this Greybeard council. For all the good it will do.”
Dardeh gave him the slightest of bows. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure to have a courier notify you as soon as a time has been set.”
He nodded to Roggi and they left the castle. They hadn’t gotten very far past the city smith and started down the long ramp into Solitude proper when Roggi clapped him on the back.
“Well done. Very well done.”
“Yeah, not too bad for a miner from Markarth, eh?” Dardeh grinned at him.
“Not too bad for anyone, Dar. And you’re not just a miner from Markarth. You’re the Dragonborn.”
“Yeah,” Dardeh said. “Not that I could have used that on Tullius. We’ll see whether it work on our true Nord in Windhelm.”
Roggi sighed. “Oh yeah. Can we stop in the inn for a mead? Just one. I haven’t had one in ages and I’m going to need it if we have to go there.”
They were just approaching the Winking Skeever. Dardeh grinned at him.
“Sure. Let’s go in. I feel like we’ve earned it. If it’s of any consolation, I don’t much like Ulfric either.”
Roggi laughed, and they stepped into the inn to take a break.