Avulstein had picked himself up and shouldered past them all to where another Nord that looked very like him was chained to the wall.
“Thorald!” Avulstein cried. “Thorald, my brother, are you all right?”
Judging from the blood and lightning burns on his skin, the answer to that one was clearly no. Shevawna searched the Justiciar's pocket and found a set of keys, rushing up to unlock Thorald's manacles. Avulstein caught him as he fell.
“Avul?” Thorald gasped. “Is that you?”
“It's me,” Avulstein said gently. “Thorald, Thorald, we're getting you out of here.”
“Good luck with that, he can barely walk,” Shevawna said, rolling her eyes. “Here.” She began casting healing magic on his wounds – not terribly powerful, not like a Matriarch could do, but it would help. At least, it would if Thorald hadn't started screaming again.
“Stop it, stop it, please, just let me die!” Thorald howled, shaking all over and Shevawna stopped as she realised the Thalmor had probably hurt then healed him. Over and over again.
“I've got potions,” she said guiltily, emptying out the remaining healing potions – more than she'd expected, most of those present had insisted they weren't that badly hurt although she'd used healing spells on them regardless. They'd probably known what they were going to find.
Avulstein took one and held it to Thorald's lips while his brother drank. It took a while but finally Thorald rallied, finally feeling strong enough to sit up. First thing he saw was one young Forsworn looking hopefully at him.
“Talos help me!” Thorald cried. “Not the Forsworn as well, I can't... Av, is it really you?”
“It's really me,” Avulstein said quietly, holding his brother. “We've come to get you home. She – she's with us. She's... friendly. On our side anyway. At the moment.”
“It's true, I don't heal people I'm planning to kill,” Shevawna told him, before realising he wasn't looking terribly reassured. “Er, here, have the potions, I'll go and help Aela...”
“You're welcome,” Shevawna whispered, before she realised he was a Talos-worshipping Stormcloak and he was being grateful to her despite knowing what she was, and then she realised her brain couldn't cope with it at all and she ran off to see how the other prisoners were faring.
“Why's there a Forsworn with you?” Thorald asked as Farkas passed him a fur blanket and some armour Eorlund had provided before they left. “They hate Nords!”
“It's complicated-” Skjor began, but it was Vilkas who cut in.
“She's the reason we even knew you were here. She's a sneaky little cat but she got results, her and Ria. Who's an Imperial, in case you were wondering. But they're both Companions and we look after our own.”
“I got rescued by a Forsworn and an Imperial, who persuaded the Companions to come and get me?” Thorald asked, confused.
Nods all round, and then Thorald began to laugh.
“What?” Avulstein asked. “What's so funny? You nearly died!”
“Yes,” Thorald laughed, sounding a little hysterical. “Yes, I nearly did and then it turns out I owe my life to a witch of the Reach and some Imperial. Ah, brother, they're not going to believe this back in Windhelm.”
“I barely believe it now,” Avulstein admitted. “Come on, Thorald. Let's get out of here.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
With the Thalmor all dead and the prisoners freed and supplied and left to make their own way, the Companions gathered outside, the sun just coming up. Thorald was dressed and armed now, well enough to stand at least, although who knew how he was really feeling.
“Are you coming with us?” Skjor asked. Thorald shook his head.
“No. Whiterun's the first place they'll look for me. I won't be the one to bring the Thalmor down on my family. But we can travel cross-country and rejoin the Stormcloaks, blend in with them. No Thalmor out east and what's two more Nords in a fort full of Stormcloaks?”
Shevawna shifted uncomfortably, not liking the reminder that however nice the Grey-Manes were, they still backed the monster who'd destroyed her homeland and enslaved her people. But nevertheless, she didn't think Thorald had deserved what the Thalmor had put him through.
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 4.9
“Thorald!” Avulstein cried. “Thorald, my brother, are you all right?”
Judging from the blood and lightning burns on his skin, the answer to that one was clearly no. Shevawna searched the Justiciar's pocket and found a set of keys, rushing up to unlock Thorald's manacles. Avulstein caught him as he fell.
“Avul?” Thorald gasped. “Is that you?”
“It's me,” Avulstein said gently. “Thorald, Thorald, we're getting you out of here.”
“Good luck with that, he can barely walk,” Shevawna said, rolling her eyes. “Here.” She began casting healing magic on his wounds – not terribly powerful, not like a Matriarch could do, but it would help. At least, it would if Thorald hadn't started screaming again.
“Stop it, stop it, please, just let me die!” Thorald howled, shaking all over and Shevawna stopped as she realised the Thalmor had probably hurt then healed him. Over and over again.
“I've got potions,” she said guiltily, emptying out the remaining healing potions – more than she'd expected, most of those present had insisted they weren't that badly hurt although she'd used healing spells on them regardless. They'd probably known what they were going to find.
Avulstein took one and held it to Thorald's lips while his brother drank. It took a while but finally Thorald rallied, finally feeling strong enough to sit up. First thing he saw was one young Forsworn looking hopefully at him.
“Talos help me!” Thorald cried. “Not the Forsworn as well, I can't... Av, is it really you?”
“It's really me,” Avulstein said quietly, holding his brother. “We've come to get you home. She – she's with us. She's... friendly. On our side anyway. At the moment.”
“It's true, I don't heal people I'm planning to kill,” Shevawna told him, before realising he wasn't looking terribly reassured. “Er, here, have the potions, I'll go and help Aela...”
“Wait,” Thorald gasped. “Girl. Forsworn. Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” Shevawna whispered, before she realised he was a Talos-worshipping Stormcloak and he was being grateful to her despite knowing what she was, and then she realised her brain couldn't cope with it at all and she ran off to see how the other prisoners were faring.
“Why's there a Forsworn with you?” Thorald asked as Farkas passed him a fur blanket and some armour Eorlund had provided before they left. “They hate Nords!”
“It's complicated-” Skjor began, but it was Vilkas who cut in.
“She's the reason we even knew you were here. She's a sneaky little cat but she got results, her and Ria. Who's an Imperial, in case you were wondering. But they're both Companions and we look after our own.”
“I got rescued by a Forsworn and an Imperial, who persuaded the Companions to come and get me?” Thorald asked, confused.
Nods all round, and then Thorald began to laugh.
“What?” Avulstein asked. “What's so funny? You nearly died!”
“Yes,” Thorald laughed, sounding a little hysterical. “Yes, I nearly did and then it turns out I owe my life to a witch of the Reach and some Imperial. Ah, brother, they're not going to believe this back in Windhelm.”
“I barely believe it now,” Avulstein admitted. “Come on, Thorald. Let's get out of here.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
With the Thalmor all dead and the prisoners freed and supplied and left to make their own way, the Companions gathered outside, the sun just coming up. Thorald was dressed and armed now, well enough to stand at least, although who knew how he was really feeling.
“Are you coming with us?” Skjor asked. Thorald shook his head.
“No. Whiterun's the first place they'll look for me. I won't be the one to bring the Thalmor down on my family. But we can travel cross-country and rejoin the Stormcloaks, blend in with them. No Thalmor out east and what's two more Nords in a fort full of Stormcloaks?”
Shevawna shifted uncomfortably, not liking the reminder that however nice the Grey-Manes were, they still backed the monster who'd destroyed her homeland and enslaved her people. But nevertheless, she didn't think Thorald had deserved what the Thalmor had put him through.