“Hey, Roggi, come over here for a second, would you?”
Dardeh had just pulled his helmet off after the sweaty work of fighting off half a dozen persistent and very tough frostbite spiders, and was staring down into the floor of what probably was a very nice stable when it wasn’t full of thick, sticky webs. There were several web-covered packages dangling from the roof and lying on the ground, and one of them looked decidedly human-shaped.
Roggi walked around the corner of the building and approached.
“Nothing else down by the water,” he said. “There’s a nice little outbuilding down there, though. Looks like it might be a sauna. Can you imagine? Wouldn’t that be just the thing?”
Dardeh looked up at him and grinned. “It sure would.”
They’d been on the way to talk to the Jarl of Falkreath about the possibility of buying some land in Falkreath Hold to build on. Dardeh wasn’t wild about moving out of Whiterun Hold, but Balgruuf didn’t have any property available at the moment. They’d stopped to chat to the smith in the crossroads town of Gavrostead, and had heard about a house that might be available if they could just get to it.
“Place has been overrun for some time now and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of the previous owner, Melchior,” she told them. “I’m guessing if you can get in there you can just have the place. At least take a look around. I hate to see it just sittin’ there empty. It’s technically in Falkreath Hold but they always paid taxes and such down here. Pretty sure folks would be happy to see it in use again.”
So they’d headed up the hill to the south of the crossroads. It hadn’t taken long before they’d started seeing spiders. Picking the few stragglers off from the side of the road wasn’t much of an issue but by the time they were adjacent to the house they were able to see why the place was empty. The spiders were everywhere, they were big, and their webs covered every part of the home’s outbuildings.
Dardeh wiped the back of his hand across his brow and pointed at the bundle at his feet.
“Human?”
Roggi nodded. “Yep, definitely. Poor sod. Now what about this fellow?”
Dardeh had found the body of a Dunmer man near the bundled, desiccated corpse, and had pulled it out from under the pile of webs.
“I’m going to guess this is our man Melchior in the cobweb dressing and this is some previous hopeful for the house who spent a little too long trying to get the key out of his pockets.”
Roggi knelt down and went through the man’s pockets.
“It’s a good enough guess for me whether it’s correct or not,” he said, grinning, as he pulled a key out into the open. He stood and stretched out his shoulders. “What do you say, shall we look inside?”
“We shall,” Dardeh agreed.
When they stepped inside, Dardeh caught his breath. There were a few cobwebs and a lot of dust, but basically the home was in perfect condition. He wandered slowly around the first floor, smiling. There was a large dining table next to a good-sized kitchen; a sitting area with bookshelves and a fireplace, and a door opening into a workshop.
Roggi yelled from across the way, from a room into which he had disappeared. “It’s great, Dar. This room is almost as big as the living room in Breezehome and it’s for kids. There are two beds. Easily three times as much space as they have now.”
“Check the downstairs, would you?”
“Yes, dear,” Roggi agreed, chuckling, and disappeared.
Dardeh smiled and walked up the stairs to the top floor. To his left were an enchanting station and an alchemy table; he stopped and looked around at the expanse of open space and smiled. It was perfect. A balcony ringing three sides of the level led past ample shelving into one of the most spacious bedrooms Dardeh had ever seen. It was half again the size of his room in Breezehome, and it had everything he could imagine wanting in a bedroom.
And it was private.
Breezehome had become something of an issue in recent weeks.
It was bad enough that Lydia’s little room was on the same floor as Dardeh and Roggi’s room. They tried to be quiet, they truly did; but the looks that Lydia gave them almost every morning when they emerged told them that they were failing. Dardeh shook his head just thinking about it. It’s embarrassing. A guy wants to make love to his spouse. There’s only so much quiet that can be had.
And of course there was Lucia. Her room being on the first floor and at the opposite end of the house was a good thing; but Breezehome was tiny and he wasn’t convinced that she didn’t hear them making happy, as well.
And then there was Sophie.
Dardeh had asked Roggi about her as they readied themselves to leave Riften after the wedding, as they stood in Honeyside’s bedroom reluctantly dressing each other.
“She’s up there in Windhelm, Roggi, selling flowers out by the gates to the waterfront. It’s freezing cold up there.”
“I know it is.”
“We have another bed, Roggi. I want to adopt her. It’s not right for Lucia to be the only one her age in the house. She needs a sibling.” He smiled. “I was an only child. It’s… tolerable, but it’s lonely.”
“Dar,” Roggi had said, stepping close and slipping his arms around Dardeh’s waist, “you may have whatever you like, my love. If you want another child that’s fine by me. I’ll help raise her. I told you. Your family is mine now. I will be happy to be Papa Roggi to two girls.”
My love. Every time he says it I just melt. I waited almost thirty years to hear someone say those words to me, and I want to hear them for the rest of my days.
Once they peeled themselves apart, they had made their way to Windhelm, staying just long enough for Dardeh to have a talk with Sophie. They’d found her at Candlehearth Hall, trying hard to get warm and shivering even though she was sitting in front of a roaring fire. Dardeh sat on the floor in front of her and talked to her, quietly. It wouldn’t be Windhelm, so it would no doubt feel strange to her, he told her, but she would have her own bed, and a sister, if she wanted. She accepted with a hug around his neck that he thought would strangle him, and a second one for Roggi once he managed to disengage her from him.
And so Dardeh had found himself with another little girl who called him Papa, and another set of ears listening to things little girls probably shouldn’t be hearing. In short, Breezehome was getting crowded.
He reached the ground floor just as Roggi was coming up from the lower level.
“Well?”
“It’s great. There’s a little room with mannequins and such but also a nice big bedroom that Lydia can have to herself. It has to be at least the size of our bedroom now. Two beds, but I suspect they could be rearranged easily enough in the event that she wants to have company.”
“Roggi. I’m shocked.”
Roggi laughed. “Well you know I think about these things. I can’t imagine Jorrvaskr is a lot more private than Breezehome. Unless it’s one of the twins she goes to visit. They have their own rooms.”
Lydia did disappear, some nights, and neither Dardeh nor Roggi had been able to figure out who it was she was visiting, aside from the fact that she went to Jorrvaskr.
“No, I can’t see it. I think they’re otherwise engaged, both of them.” Farkas – for that was the name of the huge, dark-haired Nord Dardeh had admired on his way into Whiterun that first day – had a twin brother, Vilkas. Both of them were exceptionally attractive, and both of them had been seen spending a great deal of time in the company of a stunning young girl with white-blonde hair. “Maybe… maybe Lydia goes to see Kodlak.”
“Kodlak? Are you serious?” Roggi chortled.
“Why not? He’s old, not dead. Maybe she likes an experienced man. Not that I think she’ll ever tell us who it is.”
“Why are we even talking about this, Dar? Seriously, I thought I was the one with the dirty mind.” He grinned at Dardeh. “Anyway, it’s nice, the room. I think she’ll like it.”
Dardeh walked over to Roggi and wrapped his arms around him. “And what about you, husband? Do you like it, this place?”
“I do,” Roggi said. “Compared to my little house in Kynesgrove it looks like a palace. But I like this even more.” He cupped his hands behind Dardeh’s head and pulled him into a kiss.
A few moments later Dardeh took Roggi’s hand and smiled. “Let me show you the rest of the house,” he said, pulling Roggi along toward the stairs.
Dardeh and Roggi spent a couple of days at the house, removing spider webs, corpses, and dust. They tried out the sauna, and jumped into the chill waters of Lake Ilinalta once they were so warm they couldn’t stand it any longer. They sat on the deck in the evening, drinking mead and talking about what they would do with the place. And they reveled in their privacy, in having a moment of time free from war, free from dragons, free from anything other than each other.
Dardeh felt like the most fortunate man in the world.
You are, Dar, he had heard the whisper of his mother’s voice as he drifted off to sleep wrapped around Roggi. And so is your big blonde Nord. Be happy, my sweet boy.
They were confronted by a thief, on their way back to Whiterun.
“Hand over your valuables, or I’ll gut you like a fish,” the Argonian hissed.
“Walk away, right now, and I won’t kill you,” Dardeh replied calmly.
The thief looked into Dardeh’s eyes and saw what Master Arngeir had seen in them. Dardeh didn’t know what that was, exactly, what his eyes revealed now that they hadn’t before he had been to Sovngarde, but he knew it must be profound given the way the thief’s expression changed.
The thief gulped. “I, eh, see that you’re not one to be trifled with. Well, ah… let this be a lesson to you, then.”
Dardeh grinned at Roggi and then turned to watch the thief scamper down the road and up into the ruins of the Western Watchtower, where the very first dragon had appeared. Dardeh shook his head.
“Idiot.”
“Yes.”
“Shall we?”
“Yes.”
They sprinted for the base of the watchtower, arriving in time to give the Whiterun guards a hand finishing the Argonian off. One of the guards looked at Dardeh and did a double-take.
“You’re the one who convinced the Jarl to trap the dragon in the Keep. You’ve saved us all.”
Dardeh shook his head and started to respond, but the second guard interrupted him.
“The word is spreading like magefire. We all owe you our lives.”
Roggi grinned and poked Dardeh’s arm.
“Told you.”
“Um… thanks,” Dardeh finally said. “I just did what I had to do. I’m glad you’re both all right.”
—-
“What is this? The truce isn’t holding?”
Dardeh was shaking with fatigue, and lowered himself onto a rock to rest. He pulled out a waterskin and drank deeply from it.
“It sure isn’t,” Roggi answered, frowning at the group of dead Imperial soldiers at their feet.
Several days earlier, they’d made their way to Whiterun and talked to the girls, and Lydia, about their new home. Lydia had been a little reluctant to leave Whiterun, but when Dardeh had offered to release her from her duties as his housecarl, she’d quickly put her misgivings aside and agreed to come with them. They’d spent a day arranging to have a cart carry their things to Mammoth Manor, and packing everything up to go on it. Dardeh had spoken to Jarl Balgruuf; while he was at first displeased he had understood that a household suddenly grown from two people to five needed more space than Breezehome could provide.
“I’ll keep Breezehome up and pay the taxes and so forth,” Dardeh had reassured him. “After all, Lydia will need to have a place to stay when she comes to visit.”
Balgruuf had agreed, eagerly, and Dardeh had tried not to stare at him.
Is he the one Lydia meets? Could it be? Balgruuf had children by more than one woman, but he was unattached now as far as Dardeh knew. He’s much older than she is, but I know she admires him a great deal. Could it be? It would make sense that they would meet someplace that wasn’t Dragonsreach, and maybe they’d met at Jorrvaskr…
Dardeh had tried not to giggle at the thought. Instead, he’d gone back to Breezehome with the Jarl’s blessing and gotten the women of his family underway to their new home.
He and Roggi, however, had gone in search of one last dragon word.
Arngeir had occasionally given him ideas about where he might find more words of power, and he had given such a hint not long before Dardeh had gone to Sovngarde. The place to search, he had said, was called Volksygge, at the west end of Haafingar Hold. He and Roggi had promised Lydia that it would be the last such trip, and that it would be as brief as they could make it, and they’d headed out.
And it had been horrible.
Volksygge itself wasn’t horrible. There were bandits, and spiders, and a great many draugr to kill; but after having been through Skuldafn, Dardeh wasn’t concerned about draugr, especially not with Roggi at his side. The word wall itself was outside the barrow, high on a frozen mountainside, guarded by the shade of a Dragon Priest, Volsung. That had been a more dangerous battle than anything inside the barrow but Dardeh knew how to fight Dragon Priests, and it didn’t take long for them to defeat Volsung. Dardeh absorbed the word – Nah, the second word of Whirlwind Sprint — and they made their way back toward the south.
And then there was a dragon.
A frost dragon, to be exact, attacking them as they approached the river. Dardeh hadn’t been anticipating any dragons any time soon, had expected Paarthurnax to have some measure of control over his brothers, and thus the sudden blast of cold to his legs accompanied by the familiar keening roar of a dragon shout caught him completely off-guard. He cried out, rolled into a ball and ducked behind a tree to heal himself, cursing as he heard Roggi screaming in rage and running forward. He hung back, emptying as many arrows as he could into the beast until he was able to move his legs properly again; then he Shouted Dragonrend at it and rushed forward with his swords once it was down. They finished it off, and Dardeh shouted at Roggi about risking himself.
“You’re not immortal, Roggi! I’ve seen dragons bite a man in half! I don’t want to lose you that way!” I would explode. The world would not be safe from me. I need you with me, to save me from myself.
“And what do you think it’s like for me, eh?” Roggi bellowed in return. “Every time you step foot outside the house, I wonder if you’ll be coming back! If I’m going to die, I’m going to do it fighting beside you. Don’t tell me what to do!” Roggi’s face was red, the veins prominent on his temples. He turned on his heel and strode away.
They continued south in sullen silence, each of them angry at the other for taking risks, until the silence became too much and they clung together for long moments, realizing how very little it accomplished to be angry with each other.
And then there was another dragon.
As they’d travelled south, Dardeh had remembered a place called Dragontooth Crater, just west of south from where they were, that he knew of from his youth. Just one more, he had said, convincing Roggi to go. One more word. I’ll never be doing this again, he told him. I promise.
It was a fire dragon, and it was very strong. The battle might have been Dardeh’s last if not for the dragon being distracted by several cave bears, and if not for Roggi rushing in like a man possessed, his sword flying, while Dardeh used everything at his disposal to bring it down.
When the last flicker of the dragon’s power had flowed into Dardeh, as he stood there feeling the addictive, immense sensation of knowing yet again that he was more than he had been a moment before, he looked up and heard Roggi say, quietly, “Dragonborn. Nobody can deny that you are truly Dragonborn.”
Dardeh stood looking at Roggi, a man with no special powers, equipped only with a greatsword, and thought again of the way in which time and again he rushed into battle – and won. He took a long, slow breath and then exhaled, smiling.
“And you,” he said, “are magnificent.”
Roggi looked at him in surprise, and then a smile emerged, slowly spreading across his face and up into his eyes.
“And,” Dardeh added, “I love you.”
They had camped that night, packed tightly together in Dardeh’s small tent not out of necessity but out of a desire to stay as close as they could, as if they feared being torn apart again by forces at work in the world and would do anything in their power to prevent that.
And the next day there had been the patrols.
First were the Thalmor. Elenwen may have been at the meeting at High Hrothgar but she hadn’t promised anything herself, and clearly she hadn’t told her people to stop hunting Dardeh. There was a group of them, one Justiciar and three soldiers, all but one of them hurling fireballs at him and that one firing elven arrows. It was clear that it was Dardeh they were trying to kill; Roggi had circled around to flank them and they’d ignored him. Dardeh, though, was in deep trouble; there was not much cover aside from a few dirt banks along the side of the road, he wasn’t close enough to the nearest trees to duck behind them, and each time one of the fireballs hit him or struck the ground near him his movement suffered more, the smell of burning flesh rising from inside his ebony armor.
At last, tears of pain running down his cheeks, he reached in desperation for the one thing he knew that he could do that would, doubtless, surpass the Thalmor.
“OH-DAH VIING!”
It had taken just a moment, in which he’d scrambled for what little cover he could find, but then he’d heard the familiar rushing of dragon wings, and the roar of Ohdaviing’s fire breath, and the screaming of the Thalmor as they tried but failed to escape him. He took several passes over the Thalmor, but the outcome was inevitable; Roggi and Dardeh had each damaged them and dragon fire was too much to overcome.
Ohdahving settled to the ground for a moment and spoke to Dardeh.
“Dovahkiin. I have come, as you wished. I have slain your enemies.”
“Thank you, Ohdahving. I really needed your help.”
The great red beast nodded.
“Dahmaan hin hahnu.”
He launched himself into the skies, fighting his way up to the clouds, circling, and then made his way back to the southeast. Dardeh stood, watching him, his mouth open.
“What did he say just then? It sounded like a rumble but I know he was talking to you.”
Dardeh shook his head.
“He said ‘Dahmaan hin hahnu.’ It means ‘remember your dream.’”
Roggi looked toward the diminishing speck which was all they could see of the retreating dragon.
“Which dream?”
“I don’t know.” Which dream, indeed? The dream of my father? Or the dream of my mother, as a young woman, telling me not to become lost on my path?
Dardeh and Roggi had continued south, toward Rorikstead. To Dardeh’s horror, in a surreal repeat of the trek he had made on his way to Sky Haven Temple, there had been a third dragon. It hadn’t been difficult to take down, between his Dragonrend and the arrows of half a dozen city guards, his Shouts, and Roggi’s sword, but it had been a third dragon in two days when he hadn’t expected to see any at all.
And then there was the Imperial patrol.
They’d spotted Dardeh and Roggi just north of the junction of the road they were on and the road west into the Reach and had changed their course to attack. Dardeh stood there for a moment, not believing it possible that these soldiers were coming after him; there was no reason for this to be happening, none at all. But attack they did, and it took him and Roggi much longer than it should have to defeat them, tired as they were from just having fought a dragon or two.
And thus, he sat on a rock, sipping water and trying to get his legs to stop shaking.
“But why did they attack us? What possible reason did they have?”
“I’m pretty sure I know. It’s me.”
Dardeh looked up at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Roggi shook his head and pointed to one of the soldiers, an older man than the rest, one that he had taken down with a ferocious vertical stroke of his greatsword.
“That man. I recognize him. We’ve fought before. He recognized me as a Stormcloak. It’s been years, but he had no way to know I’ve been gone from Ulfric’s troops so long. The truce isn’t holding.”
“So what are we going to do?”
Roggi took Dardeh’s hand and pulled him up.
“We’re going to go home. Ulfric is someone else’s problem now, Dar, as you said. The war – his war – it’s his problem. I am taking you home and we are going to be with our family. And we are never going out to look for dragon words again.”
Dardeh looked down at the ground. I know. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have fallen prey to it again, that desire for more power.
“Because, Dardeh at-Dadarh, I remember my dream,” Roggi said, pulling him close. “And my dream is that you and I will be together until we are little old grey-haired men shuffling around the house, making each other tea.” He leaned in and brushed a quick kiss across Dardeh’s mouth, and then grinned.
“And don’t forget. I have ways of making things happen if they aren’t going the way I like. I do still carry my tools with me.”
Dardeh laughed. He still hadn’t looked at those tools. Maybe one day Roggi wouldn’t feel as though he needed them.
Then he thought about making his mother her favorite tea, and smiled.
By the time they arrived at their home, Lydia had the place well in hand. The goods from Breezehome were put away aside from Dardeh’s and Roggi’s personal items. Lucia’s fox was wandering around the ground level, sniffing in all the corners.
Dardeh walked slowly up the stairs, thinking about how good it was going to feel to shed his heavy armor for once. Lydia and Lucia were in the work area, chatting, and he smiled at them as he approached.
“Hello, girls.”
“Hello, Papa!” Lucia smiled, for once not hurling herself at him. “I’ve been practicing with my sword. I figured somebody needed to protect the house until you and Papa Roggi got home.”
He swapped a quick grin with Lydia. Of course, because the woman from Balgruuf’s personal staff who is good enough to serve as a housecarl couldn’t be counted on to do the job herself.
“That’s very good, Lucia! You should show Roggi – Papa Roggi – how you’ve been doing. Maybe we can find a greatsword for you somewhere. Maybe I can figure out how to make one.”
“A real sword?” Her eyes got very round.
“Once Papa Roggi and Lydia say you’re ready. How about that?”
Lucia looked at Lydia, suddenly serious.
“Do you know how to fight with a sword, Lydia?”
Lydia chuckled.
“Yes, my dear. I do indeed. I’m glad that I haven’t needed to do such a thing for a while.”
Lucia nodded, and then ran down the stairs. Dardeh sat and talked to Lydia for a few minutes, then went to his room to change. When he returned to the ground floor, he stood, smiling, taking it all in.
Sophie was sweeping the floor. Lucia had been practicing her swing, but stopped to smile back at him. Roggi was having a bite to eat.
It’s a family. It’s… my family.
Dardeh stepped outside for a time, chopped up some firewood, and then stood looking out over Lake Ilinalta, smiling. He went back into the house and checked the workshop to see that everything from Breezehome was in a place that he could remember, and smiled. Lydia’s sense of organization was impeccable, and he sensed that she’d been doing a bit of smithing herself before they’d gotten home. He put away gems, and armor, and weapons he’d collected along the way; and later, quietly, after Lydia and the girls had gone to bed and while he was alone in the room, mounted his father’s matched Alik’r scimitars on a weapons plaque near the main entrance of the home. He looked up at them and nodded.
I won’t use them in the way you want, father, but there’s no arguing with it. I’m half Redguard. Half of me is you. I will honor your memory in this way.
“I’m glad you did that, Dar,” came a quiet voice from near the fireplace. Dardeh turned to see that Roggi had slipped quietly into a chair next to the fire, and was sipping from a tankard.
Dardeh walked over to him and smiled.
“It seemed a shame to hide them away.”
“You’ll always be a true Nord, my love, but you’re more than just that.”
Dardeh smiled.
“So are you, Roggi. So are you.”
Roggi smiled up at him. “Do you need anything, my love?”
“Yes.” Dardeh reached down and took Roggi by the hand. “I need to go to bed. And I need my husband to come with me.”
Roggi grinned at him and rose, and together they walked up the stairs and quietly made their way to the large, private bedroom on the top floor of their new home.