Song of the Dragon and the Bear

Chapter 5

A/N I'm not dead! It's been awhile since I updated, which I apologize for. I got to a point where I was kind of stuck in this chapter and the plot wasn't moving, but today I had an epiphany and completely changed the way this chapter was going to go. This version is MUCH better than the other one would have been.

Vara gave a deep sigh and stood back, admiring the work she had done. In the glaring light of the winter sun, the Grey Quarter was illuminated. The houses shone with snow on the rooftops and fresh wood on the walls. Vara had spent the last three days helping wherever she could in the Grey Quarter. Some had refused her aid until Ninesea had spoken to them in that soft voice of hers and explained what Vara was trying to do. Most of the dark elves accepted her help after that and some had even provided her with ways to help others in the Grey Quarter.

For some people, help meant patching the walls or roof so that the cold wind of Skyrim wouldn't whistle through their house. For others, help meant talking to the people they worked for and asking for better working conditions. For many, help meant only listening, listening as they told their tale of how they traveled from a desolated land to Skyrim and stopped at the first city they reached. They told Vara of how optimistic and prideful they had been, only to find that the nords did not respect the ancestry of an elf born into a Great House. To them, it meant nothing. To the elves, it meant everything.

Some of the Dark Elves believed that everything that had happened to them was the fault of the nords. They believed that they deserved better, and it was only Nordic oppression that kept them from bettering their lives. Others admitted, often in the same soft tone Ninesea had used, that their current state was as much their doing as it was the Nords. They said that there were problems that were caused by a lack of care by the Nords without a doubt, but most were the effect of too much pride and an unwillingness to try something new. Vara listened to each person who spoke, and she saw truth to both sides. Something needed to be done about the state of the Grey Quarter, but she couldn't see a way to make that happen, not on her own. She needed the support of someone important, someone like the Jarl. But that would never happen.

Regardless of whether or not she could help the Grey Quarter further, Vara needed to pay a visit to the Palace of Kings. She had more than completed the task that Ulfric had given her, and she needed to ensure that her debt was paid.

Ulfric surveyed the men in the courtyard with dismay. He knew that these men were little more than farmers, but that didn't change the fact that they were going to be the ones fighting for the freedom of Skyrim, and their form was terrible. Many of the men moved slowly, as if it took their bodies a few moments to catch up to what their brains were telling them to do. If he had to, Ulfric could have fought and slain them all with one hand tied behind his back, never uttering a single word. It was depressing.

"Don't worry so much, Ulfric. They'll whip into shape soon enough; all the others have," the gravelly voice of Ulfric's close friend spoke up from next to him.

"Under your direction, my friend, they'll have little choice in the matter," Ulfric stated. Galmar was well known, even to the Empire, as being a general who could make a soldier out of anyone. "I simply fear they won't be ready soon enough. War is on the horizon, and I worry that I will have the blood of these men on my hands for sending them off to fight a battle they cannot hope to win."

Galmar gripped Ulfric's shoulder. "They will be ready, Ulfric, and they will fight, and those who fall will join the throng of Sovngarde. They couldn't ask for a better fate.". Ulfric didn't reply, but turned his attention back to the courtyard and the men in it. One man, in particular, seemed to be doing poorly, and as Ulfric watched, he stabbed himself in the foot with his practice sword. Ulfric sighed heavily and rubbed his temples, where a headache was beginning to form before waving for the guards to take the man to the healers.