“Nord... Thorald.” She unhooked the axe from her belt that Eorlund had given her and handed it over. “Your father made this for you. It was meant to be a gift for when you returned, but if you aren't coming back... just take it.”
Thorald took the axe, marvelling at the craftsmanship and as he sheathed it, he wiped a tear from his eye. Avulstein had an arm around his shoulders, giving him an awkward one-armed hug.
“I could practise smithing for a hundred years and I'd still not be the smith my father is,” Thorald said quietly. “Tell him thank you. And... and when you see my mother, tell her I'm sorry. And that I will miss her and Pa and Fina and Uncle Vignar and everyone. And if she wants to know where I am, just tell her to suffer the winter's cold wind. She'll know what it means.”
“I will,” Shevawna promised. She hadn't a clue what it meant, but as long as Fralia did, that was the main thing.
Helping out one of Ulfric's men. How it had come to this, she'd never know. But she didn't feel like a traitor because of it. She felt like she'd done the right thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whiterun was quiet, and as beautiful as ever in the setting sun. The others all headed straight back to Jorrvaskr, having seen the Grey-Mane brothers off and now eager to get back home and recover.
Shevawna was as exhausted as they were, but she didn't head home. Instead she knocked on the Grey-Manes' door.
All three of them were in, Eorlund having abandoned the Skyforge for once and Olfina apparently not working tonight. Fralia had clearly closed her store for the day too. They all fell silent as they saw her walk in.
“By the Nine,” Eorlund gasped. “Look at you, what happened?”
“I haven't slept for over a day,” Shevawna said, realising how tired she was. “And Northwatch Keep is a long way. But we found him.”
“You found him!” Fralia cried, looking like she was about to cry. “Was he all right? Where is he? Can I see him?”
“No,” Shevawna said, staving off a yawn. “No, he's not here. But he's all right. He and Avulstein went east to join the Stormcloaks, hide in their ranks.”
“You mean after all this, I can't even see him!” Fralia cried. “How do I know this is even true and you're not just telling me what I want to hear?”
“Then I'll ask Skjor in the morning, woman, they're not all going to lie to my face, are they? Better yet, I'll ask Farkas, the man's incapable of falsehood,” Eorlund growled. Then he glanced at the Forsworn axe on her hip. “I might ask what happened to my axe too.”
“Gave it to Thorald when we left,” Shevawna said, closing her eyes. “He said thank you and he wishes he could smith like you. And that he misses you all. And that you should suffer the winter's cold wind, except he didn't mean it like a Hag's curse or anything, he said you'd know...” Shevawna's eyes closed and her legs gave way, and it was only Eorlund's arms around her that stopped her crashing to the floor. As he picked her up and carried her off, Shevawna let sleep claim her.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Warm, comfy bed. Fresh straw and clean sheets. Someone stroking her hair. Had she been ill? No one had doted on her while she was ill for a long time.
“Mama?” she whispered, before she remembered her Mama was in the Void, lost to a skirmish while out hunting six years ago now, and her da dead for longer than that – he'd had the bad luck to be running courier duty to Druadach Redoubt when the Nords breached it and slaughtered the entire camp... apart from Madanach, who they'd taken prisoner. Shevawna didn't even remember him.
“I'm sorry, dear, I'm not your mother. But you gave me back my son.”
Shevawna opened her eyes to see Fralia smiling down at her.
“What happened?” Shevawna whispered, trying to work out where she was and how she'd got here. It wasn't Jorrvaskr.
“You fainted, dear,” Fralia said gently. “You'd been up all day and night, running all that way – no wonder you were exhausted. But don't you worry. You're safe now. This is the boys' old room. You can stay here as long as you like.”
Shevawna nodded, closing her eyes again. That sounded nice, very nice indeed. With Fralia stroking her hair, she drifted off back to sleep.
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 4.10
Thorald took the axe, marvelling at the craftsmanship and as he sheathed it, he wiped a tear from his eye. Avulstein had an arm around his shoulders, giving him an awkward one-armed hug.
“I could practise smithing for a hundred years and I'd still not be the smith my father is,” Thorald said quietly. “Tell him thank you. And... and when you see my mother, tell her I'm sorry. And that I will miss her and Pa and Fina and Uncle Vignar and everyone. And if she wants to know where I am, just tell her to suffer the winter's cold wind. She'll know what it means.”
“I will,” Shevawna promised. She hadn't a clue what it meant, but as long as Fralia did, that was the main thing.
Helping out one of Ulfric's men. How it had come to this, she'd never know. But she didn't feel like a traitor because of it. She felt like she'd done the right thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whiterun was quiet, and as beautiful as ever in the setting sun. The others all headed straight back to Jorrvaskr, having seen the Grey-Mane brothers off and now eager to get back home and recover.
Shevawna was as exhausted as they were, but she didn't head home. Instead she knocked on the Grey-Manes' door.
All three of them were in, Eorlund having abandoned the Skyforge for once and Olfina apparently not working tonight. Fralia had clearly closed her store for the day too. They all fell silent as they saw her walk in.
“By the Nine,” Eorlund gasped. “Look at you, what happened?”
“I haven't slept for over a day,” Shevawna said, realising how tired she was. “And Northwatch Keep is a long way. But we found him.”
“You found him!” Fralia cried, looking like she was about to cry. “Was he all right? Where is he? Can I see him?”
“No,” Shevawna said, staving off a yawn. “No, he's not here. But he's all right. He and Avulstein went east to join the Stormcloaks, hide in their ranks.”
“You mean after all this, I can't even see him!” Fralia cried. “How do I know this is even true and you're not just telling me what I want to hear?”
“Then I'll ask Skjor in the morning, woman, they're not all going to lie to my face, are they? Better yet, I'll ask Farkas, the man's incapable of falsehood,” Eorlund growled. Then he glanced at the Forsworn axe on her hip. “I might ask what happened to my axe too.”
“Gave it to Thorald when we left,” Shevawna said, closing her eyes. “He said thank you and he wishes he could smith like you. And that he misses you all. And that you should suffer the winter's cold wind, except he didn't mean it like a Hag's curse or anything, he said you'd know...” Shevawna's eyes closed and her legs gave way, and it was only Eorlund's arms around her that stopped her crashing to the floor. As he picked her up and carried her off, Shevawna let sleep claim her.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Warm, comfy bed. Fresh straw and clean sheets. Someone stroking her hair. Had she been ill? No one had doted on her while she was ill for a long time.
“Mama?” she whispered, before she remembered her Mama was in the Void, lost to a skirmish while out hunting six years ago now, and her da dead for longer than that – he'd had the bad luck to be running courier duty to Druadach Redoubt when the Nords breached it and slaughtered the entire camp... apart from Madanach, who they'd taken prisoner. Shevawna didn't even remember him.
“I'm sorry, dear, I'm not your mother. But you gave me back my son.”
Shevawna opened her eyes to see Fralia smiling down at her.
“What happened?” Shevawna whispered, trying to work out where she was and how she'd got here. It wasn't Jorrvaskr.
“You fainted, dear,” Fralia said gently. “You'd been up all day and night, running all that way – no wonder you were exhausted. But don't you worry. You're safe now. This is the boys' old room. You can stay here as long as you like.”
Shevawna nodded, closing her eyes again. That sounded nice, very nice indeed. With Fralia stroking her hair, she drifted off back to sleep.