I started the day at Jorrvaskr with the intention of joining the Companions. Having access to more followers seemed like a sensible step, especially with the roads becoming more dangerous the further I travel.

That plan lasted only a few minutes.

To prove my worth they wanted me to fight one of them, which normally wouldn’t be an issue. The complication was their insistence that I do it with weapons. Steel and I have never had the most productive relationship.

I briefly wondered if bound weapons might satisfy their requirement, but until I actually learn those spells there’s no point forcing the issue. The Companions can wait. Skyrim has plenty of other roads to follow in the meantime.

It was only after leaving Jorrvaskr that I realised something else: I had forgotten to hit record. By the time I noticed, the whole conversation with the Companions had already happened. There wasn’t much point trying to recreate it, so I simply corrected the mistake and continued the journey from there.

The Road Instead of the Hall

With that decision made I mounted up and left Whiterun behind. If I couldn’t prove myself in a training yard, I could at least make progress elsewhere.

My route would take me toward Bonestrewn Crest, where a source of power had been marked. From there the road eventually leads toward Ivarstead and the mountain path to the Greybeards.

The climb to High Hrothgar is unavoidable sooner or later. I’m still not convinced my gear is warm enough for it, but the Greybeards are not known for being patient.

So most of the day was spent riding. Lydia marched alongside when the terrain demanded it, but for the most part the horse carried us across the long stretches of road that connect the quieter corners of Skyrim.

Darkwater Crossing

The journey stayed peaceful until we reached Darkwater Crossing. At first glance it seemed like any other small mining settlement. Smoke from chimneys, a few workers moving about, nothing that immediately suggested trouble.

Trouble found me anyway.

Within moments of arriving, a man hurried over and handed me a battleaxe, asking me to hold onto it for him. Suspicious doesn’t begin to describe it. I passed the weapon straight to Lydia. If someone was about to cause problems, I preferred she had the steel.

Not long after that another man approached asking if I had seen anyone suspicious. I told him about the first man, which immediately escalated the situation. Arrows started flying and the quiet village turned into a battlefield.

There wasn’t time to unravel whatever story lay behind it, so I made a decision and sided with the archer. The man who handed me the axe didn’t survive long enough to explain himself.

The archer had nothing further to say afterward. Lydia, however, now owns a new battleaxe. In Skyrim that counts as a successful outcome.

The Road After Dark

By the time we left Darkwater Crossing the light was already starting to fade. That made the next decision simple. Ivarstead was the nearest place with a bed, and travelling the roads at night rarely ends well.

Unfortunately someone else seemed to have the same idea about meeting me on the road.

Another assassin appeared before we reached the village. That makes the second attempt on my life so far, which means this is no longer coincidence.

Someone out there has decided I’m worth paying to have removed. I still don’t know who, and right now I don’t have the luxury of investigating it.

For the moment, surviving the attempts will have to be enough.

Ivarstead

I reached Ivarstead without further trouble and secured a room at the inn. The horse still doesn’t have a name. I thought I had one earlier, but after trying it out it didn’t feel right. For now the horse remains unnamed, which may actually be safer given the sort of roads we’re travelling.

The innkeeper warned me about the nearby barrow, claiming it was haunted. Naturally that sounded like something worth investigating. I offered to take a look and he was more than happy to let someone else deal with the problem.

While speaking with the locals I also picked up another bounty and received the usual advice that anyone serious about magic should travel to Winterhold.

I may take that advice someday. For now, I suspect my Argonian blood would freeze solid before I reached the gates of the College.

Eventually I paid for a bed and turned in for the night. The innkeeper lingered in the room for a while, apparently part of the service. I chose not to question it too much.

Tomorrow I’ll investigate the haunted barrow and see what exactly is waiting inside.

Continue the Journey

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