Chapter 45: 7,000 steps: Part 1
We bid farewell to Agna on the porch of the Inn. She looked tired—not just the kind of tired a good night's sleep could fix, but the slow, bone-crushing weariness of someone who had been carrying a bag filled with stones for miles.
I should return before she leaves. I thought.
Not because of the money, but… her decision to return to the tomb was idiotic, even though I tried to convince her not to go back when we were having lunch, but she wouldn't listen... "I want to give my nephew a proper farewell" was her reason.
There's nothing left of your nephew to bid farewell to…
Sigh!
We set off through Ivarstead, the air cooler where the river curled at the mountain's foot. Lydia walked beside me, back straight like a spear haft. Uthgerd was stiff too, but not like Lydia. Lydia's stiffness was posture; Uthgerd's was in the way her thoughts kept grinding, making her steps rigid.
Having to run from Golldir had really gotten under her skin, or was it the alcohol…
I didn't bother meddling in either one.
And as we were passing the mill, the rhythmic thunk of wood being split broke the afternoon calm.
A young male Bosmer, Wood Elf, stood at the base, his axe rising and falling with a slow, steady motion. Above him, on the stairs leading to the saw platform, stood the red-haired woman I'd spotted earlier.
"If you swung any slower, I'd think you were part tree, if you aren't already one," she called down, her voice sharp enough to cut through the waterwheel's groaning.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
She turned her gaze toward me, hearing the sound. She has some sharp ears. "Something's funny?" she asked, her tone a verbal equivalent of a shove.
I shook my head, lips pressed in a polite line, and kept moving, while Uthgerd muttered something under her breath I couldn't hear.
The bridge's stones were damp from the snow melted by the midday sun, and beyond it, the path began to tilt upward, narrowing between moss and rocks.
What a tsundere, I glanced back at the mill as we crossed the stone bridge.
I like her.
And just as the climb started gentle enough. We reached a dark, draconic totem, its black stone carved with jagged, organic ridges, where an etched tablet lay hidden beneath the looming temple-like arch that guarded the writing from the harsh nature of the mountain and time.
Uthgerd stepped toward it, bending slightly to read what was written, gibberish to earthly humans, but I could still understand it, just like how I can speak it. Maybe it was the body's memory. But I highly doubted it, since I couldn't remember anything about who he was.
Maybe… It's another gift from R.O.B
Uthgerd began reading the tablet.
[Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land]
Uthgerd gulped, not in fear, but excitement, as a smile returned to her face. She turned back to us, "Can you do that? Blot the sky and flood the land?" She looked at me.
"Sure, once I sprout wings and scales." I chuckled before moving ahead. Lydia followed behind, leaving Uthgerd to pout at the totem.
We pressed onward, stepping over the first of thousands of worn stone slabs, their edges rounded by centuries of pilgrim boots.
The path twisted along a sheer drop before it rose sharply again. The wind sang against our armor, tugging at straps and padding.
The air is getting colder, thinner. I could feel it in my lungs.
We passed a few Pilgrims sitting by stacked rocks, meditating in the cold. We ignored them, not wanting to disturb their reverie.
Lydia's armor clinked behind me as we continued, the sound heavier now, each step dragging against the incline. Uthgerd wasn't doing much better; her lighter tunic let her move more easily than Lydia's, but still, the cold bit her cheeks and nose, leaving them flushed red.
It was even colder than Bleak Falls Barrow's heights, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones if you dared stop moving.
So we didn't.
***
It wasn't long before Uthgerd stopped at another snow-caked totem standing at the edge of the stairs. She brushed the frost from its face with her palm, revealing ancient carving beneath..
[Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice]
This time, Lydia stood beside Uthgerd, her curious gaze set on the tablet, "Gee, I can't imagine myself being unable to speak." Uthgerd's shoulders shuddered at the thought of being a mute.
I inched closer behind them, the cold wind hitting my face, snow covering my hair, "I don't think it refers to literally being a mute, but rather lacking a Shout."
Uthgerd turned to me, "Like us?" she said, her eyes flickering to Lydia and herself.
I nodded.
We moved past the second Emblem, walking up the winding path, when we came across another. Uthgerd quickly went forward, ignoring the man who sat beside it, resting.
The bald man looked up at us, his beard braided in a plait, "On your way to High Hrothgar?" he chuckled low.
Klimmek
"We are," Uthgerd muttered before focusing back to the tablet.
Klimmek studied us for a heartbeat, then scoffed lightly, "Yeah, right," he murmured and got up from the steps, hoisting the large sack that was set beside him over his shoulder, and moved up, fighting against the cold.
Another change.
Uthgerd's voice brought me back from sulking on the changes of this world and the uneasiness that came with it every time I observed it. I just hope it's not too drastic.
[The fledgling spirits of men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts]
"Aw… How cute." Uthgerd chuckled, and a small giggle escaped from Lydia's lips, standing behind me.
I shook my head and continued up, following just a few steps behind Klimmek.
But we soon lost him to the turning stairs as Uthgerd stopped to read another one, perched against an old tree, while I admired the view.
We were high, the air was getting sharp like a dagger, making it harder to breathe; every inch of the path was covered in a foot deep white snow, so white it could blind you if you stared at it long enough; fortunately, there was no direct sunlight to make it even more blinding.
[Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man…]
I looked on, watching from the edge of the cliff, the clouded sky, the bloated sun whose rays didn't reach us, the mountains in the distance, like a sword of a titan pointing to the sky, yet they were still dwarfed by the one we were climbing…
[Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue]
"I wonder who won," Uthgerd said, rubbing her frozen nose.
I smirked at her sarcasm and turned to the two when—
AAAAaaargh! Help! Someone!
A scream muffled by the wind reached us, coming from above, where Klimmek was…
Our backs straightened at the horrified scream. My hand reached Uthgerd's waist, as armor wrapped around her, her greatsword returned to rest on her back.
We ran.
***
Under the shadow of a cliff that curved over the winding path to High Hrothgar, Klimmek lay sprawled in the snow—snow that swallowed every inch of land, smothering dirt, rock, and tree… and now him.
His eyes were wide in horror, mouth open in ragged gasp, half fear, half from the thin biting air. His throat had given out after the last desperate cry for help, and the sound scraped away into silence.
Before him, the beast loomed, that had his legs shuddering, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.
Three eyes, blood red, gleaming with predatory focus. Its skull and frame are eerily reminiscent of an Earth gorilla, though longer in limb and narrower in build. Its skin taut and deadly, cloaked beneath the dense, snow-white fur, the perfect camouflage in this frozen wilderness.
It growled low, the sound vibrating through snow and the cliff walls beside it.
And just as it dashed toward Klimmel. His knuckles beat into the earth, splashing snow; Its mouth drooled as it gazed at his food, its eyes fixed on Klimmek.
Hearing the thump of his knuckle against the snow getting louder and louder, Klimmek soiled himself.
When—
Suddenly, it halted mid-charge, as it was about to reach him, his temple eye moved to the three figures behind Klimmek, clad in armor.
We had arrived just in time, our breath short as the cold air stabbed at our lungs like needles. In my left, [Flames] hissed in the wind; in my right, [Shock] coiled around my sword, the buzz of lightning lost in the snowstorm.
"He's mine," Uthgerd said, stepping forward, a smug smile on her face, her great sword drawn.
"Uthgerd," I called, and she glanced back at me, brows knit. "What? You think I can't handle even this?"
It was Golldir, huh
"Lydia," I said, before taking a step back, "Be quick."
Uthgerd's lips tightened in annoyance, but she exhaled and shifted her grip on the sword. "Fine, but if you get in my way, I'm not stopping the swing." She shot a glare at Lydia, who had no time to respond as the troll's roar ripped through the air, and it lunged forward.
Lydia shot forward like an arrow, feet barely breaking the snow's surface, and at the last moment, just as the troll raised its arm to strike, she dropped into a sliding crouch.
Her short blade flashed in a clean, brutal line across the troll's heel. Blood, thick, almost black, splattered the pristine snow.
The beast bellowed, stumbling on its wounded leg, but still barreled forward, straight into Uthgerd. She planted her feet wide in the churned snow.. Her greatsword raised high above her head, and when the troll's massive shadow fell over her, she brought it down with brutal force, the sharp edge aimed at the troll's head.
But.
The troll caught the blow on its thick, like a log forearm, before the massive slab of metal could split its head, but the result was far from a clean block—bone snapped under the weight, and a deep crimson gash split the arm nearly in two.
The sound was wet and sharp, like ice cracking over deep water.
The troll jumped back, clutching his almost split hand, its face contorting in fear and confusion.
Behind him, Lydia rose to her feet, her sword flicking to scatter droplets of blood onto the pristine ground. She dashed forward again, her movements quick, fluid like water.
But she stopped.
As the beast roared, still clutching its ruined right arm, it backed away in jagged, awkward steps. It's back against the wall, fear building inside.
I moved away from the clash until I reached Klimmek.
He was still on his back, eyes wide and unblinking. I seized him by the collar and hauled him toward the other side of the cliff, keeping my gaze fixed on the troll for the enraged onslaught it was about to unleash.
The troll's breathing quickened, the steam from its nostrils curling in the frozen air. Its three eyes darted wildly, instincts clawing at its mind. Predators hate two things: being cornered and being wounded. This one was both.
It roared, the sound shaking the clumps from the cliff above, then lowered its head like a charging bull. But its target wasn't Uthgerd, who almost cut its arm clean off. It lunged at Lydia, small, quick, and the one who'd crippled its leg.
Its shattered arm swung like a grotesque flail, the jagged bone jutting from torn flesh. Lydia's eyes widened; she twisted away, boots kicking up snow as the mangled limb whistled past her head.
Uthgerd tightened her stance, ready to attack when the troll pounced toward Lydia, but it didn't. Instead, the troll spun on its good arm with surprising agility, the broken limb whipping toward her like a bloodied whip.
She braced, holding her sword at her side like a shield—
But the strike faltered. The troll stumbled, its weight collapsing to one side. A metallic glint winked from behind its knee—a steel dagger, buried deep in the sinew.
Uthgerd saw her moment. And quickly changed her stance, the greatsword arcing down with brutal force. The troll raised its left arm in another desperate block. This time, the blade carved clean through, parting flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter, before burying into the dirt.
The beast howled, stumbling back—
But Lydia was already there. She surged from behind, driving her short sword into the troll's back, the steel punching out through its chest in a spray of black-red.
Uthgerd's lips curled into a victorious smirk. She wrenched her greatsword free from the ground, in one swift motion, and swung again. Now, there was no stopping the steel. The blade cleaved through fur, muscle, and spine—
And the troll's head fell into the snow with a dull, heavy thud, rolling across, steaming in the cold air.
I knelt beside it, studying the three eyes still locked open, staring at nothing.
I thought it would be bigger, I touched it and it disappeared, leaving only the corpse and blood as evidence.
***
Lydia and Uthgerd sat slouched against the next weatherworn totem, just outside the shade of the cliff, steam curling from their lips as they caught their breath. Their gauntleted hands moved in slow, practiced motions, wiping blood from steel.
"Thanks for that dagger," Uthgerd muttered after a long silence, her voice low but edged with something that wasn't quite humility. If it hadn't been for her dagger, I would've embarrassed myself again in front of him. She thought.
Lydia's eyes lifted, brows knit in confusion. "What?"
At a distance.
Under the shade of the cliff, I knelt beside the Troll's hulking corpse. The snow was already settling over it. I wrenched out my dagger from the thick fur at its calf when—my eyes flicked to its heel, the cut Lydia had made, was already healed.
What a scary monster.
With a graze of a finger, I stored the whole body inside the inventory. He'll make quite the lab rat. The idea tugged a short, dark chuckle from my throat before I straightened and glanced back toward the two women before turning to Klimmek.
He was still staring at the snow in front of him, his face pale and distant.
"Are you alright?" I asked, stepping into his line of sight.
It took a heartbeat for his focus to return. Then he blinked rapidly and nodded. "By the Nine—thank you, thank you," his voice hook, each word almost colliding with the next.
I gave a single nod and started back toward Lydia and Uthgerd, but his voice cracked through the wind behind me.
"W-wait!"
I stopped and turned, "What?"
He hesitated for a moment, "I-if you're really headed to High Hrothgar…" he gulped, glancing at the bag slung over his shoulder. "C-can you bring these supplies to the Greybeards…" he held it out with both hands like an offering.
I paused.
"I-I can pay, for the delivery and for saving my life," he added quickly.
"How much are you carrying?" I asked, shamelessly.
A weak cough escaped him, "N-nothing… at the moment. But you can find me in Ivarstead, you can ask the Inn owner, Wilhelm, he'll tell you where I live."
I thought for a moment, before exhaling through my nose, "Fine." I touched the bag as it disappeared from his hands, "Go."
Klimmek nodded, his boots crunching against the snow as he started down the steps, almost in a hurry to get out of there.
"Be careful, it's a long way down."
And I really hate losing my money.
"Y-yes." He muttered without looking back and continued down.
When I reached Uthgerd and Lydia, they were sliding freshly cleaned blades into their scabbards. "Hurt?" I asked
Lydia shook her head in silence, her breath still fogging in short bursts. Uthgerd glanced up at me, shaking her head, and for an instant, there was a flicker in her eyes—something between appreciation and something I couldn't put my finger on.
I turned my attention to the tablet embedded in the stone behind them, brushing away frost to read the words carved deep.
[Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world. Proving for all that their voice too was strong. Although their sacrifices were many-fold.]
"What a surprise," Uthgerd muttered dryly from the side.
I chuckled, and she followed with one of her own. Lydia glanced between us, then the corner of her lips curled upward, too.
****
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