Chapter Five

Gaeolin awoke to his hair tickling his eyes. He was sore all over. His ribs felt particularly bad. A breeze passed over, convincing him to open his eyes. Gray skies were mottled with bursts of orange and pink. He could hear the sound of small waves lapping the shore. The flickering of a campfire was to his left. Turning his head, he saw Inigo watching him.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up tonight.” He said, rolling a log on the fire. “How do you feel?”

Gaeolin tried to sit up, grunting before flopping back down to the ground. “I think I’d feel better if Molag Bal were to have his way with me…”

“You stink now…” The cat wrinkled his nose. “You smelled this way after that one in Whiterun too.”

“How… we’re by the lake now.”

“I had to carry you.” Gaeolin tried once more to sit upright. He let out a huff, finally giving up completely. “I… May have dropped you a few times…. I thought you’d feel better once you relaxed by the water.”

“Very kind of you.” The elf laid his hand on his stomach. “The horses?”

“They’re fine. I tied them up a little farther up the shore by a creek.” He stared into the fire. “At least they were smart enough to run away.”

Gaeolin looked jilted. “I’m not smart?”

“You drove off a fire breathing dragon, then proceeded to run after it…”

“Yes, but…”

Inigo interrupted him. “You’ve been avoiding this power. We’ve been told to go to the Greybeards. Balgruuf spoke about how they could help you, even called it a gift. From what I see, it’s a curse. Why don’t you go to them?”

Gaeolin stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t know… I’m not really sold on the idea of going to a strange mountain-top cult firstly. And even if we go,” he paused, “I don’t have much coin. What if it costs something to consult these sages? I can’t just go.”

Inigo snarled, an act that startled his companion. “You’re a fool! Now is not the time to think of your financial integrity. Dragons are burning the holds, and on a more personal level, you’ve nearly died twice already because of them, AFTER you killed them.”

“I can’t let them live and threaten the people to save myself.” Gaeolin retorted.

“I know! But if you think I’m going to stand by and watch someone else in my life get killed, you’re wrong.”

The elf picked up his head, unsure how to respond. “Who did you lose?”

The khajiit picked at the laces of his boots. “My brother, Fergus.” The clouds began to close in, the fire becoming more and more essential to them. “He was killed many years ago, when we were traveling through County Skingrad in Cyrodiil. Some racist Nords pinned us for a string of thefts in their city. I haven’t mentioned him before?”

“No, I had no idea you even had a sibling.” Gaeolin felt a pang of shame at this. Inigo had traveled with him for over a year, and he’d never asked about his family.

Inigo must have seen his face. “Don’t look so distraught. I never asked about your relatives either. I kind of thought to wait on those things until you decided you wanted to. In any case, I think you need to put your health as a priority here. If you insist on being a hero, try to live long enough to do the most good.”

Gaeolin stayed silent. His friend wasn’t wrong. He had been reckless. He may not want to admit it, but these Greybeards were really his only option. “What about the missing people in Markarth?”

Inigo shrugged. “We can be in Ivarstead in a day, and then, once we hear what the old men have to say, we’ll ride like the wind to get there.”