'Are you sure they won't mind you taking that bread and cheese?' Phane asked.
'They won't miss it, put it that way,' replied Lalaine. 'There is enough mature cheese in the cellars for a dozen banquets, and we get fresh bread delivered every day. The count would not deign to eat day-old bread.'
'I'm afraid I have little for the two of you today,' Drelis apologised.
'I've been thinking,' started Phane; his friends rolled their eyes. 'This story could actually get a little repetitive. I mean, I am sure it was exciting at the time; but when it is retold to us it seems like "Khargol traveled here, smithed, traveled there, delved into a barrow, traveled here, spoke to Lydia..." it might be more interesting if he took more companions on his travels.'
'He has a point,' remarked Lalaine, unbelieving. 'Perhaps we should skip to the important parts.'
Drelis sat thinking for a moment. 'I suppose we could,' he faltered. 'But without all of the details...'
'The details are going to disappear in the mundane parts of the story, I fear.' Phane began pouring the drinks.
'Very well. Allow me to go over the events of this next day in brief then.
'Khargol returned to Whiterun and left Uthgerd at the tavern. She was not pleased, as you can imagine, and Khargol had made certain she knew that he would not be asking her assistance again. Her performance in the draugr barrow did not fill him with confidence. She might have started another brawl with him for satisfaction, but it seems she still remembered the last fist-fight she had gotten into.
'On the Warmaiden's forge, Khargol demonstrated the knowledge that he had gained so far on his travels. He forged the heavy armour of the orcs, and the keen weapons of the elves with equal skill. The jarl was more than happy to outfit his men with such fine arms, eagerly paying the marked-down price Khargol offered for his services.
'This, however, caused a sudden rivalry between Khargol and Eorlund Gray-Mane, the master-smith of the Skyforge. Khargol had intended on seeking out Eorlund's tutelage but the old man refused to teach him anything. Skyforged steel was the only steel good enough for the Companions, and everyone coveted such weaponry; but with Khargol giving the jarl's men elven weapons, the attention had been drawn from the skyforge and turned on this foreign orc smith.
'Lydia agreed to stay in Whiterun to negotiate with the jarl and the Companions to make sure that there would be no ill will on Khargol's return. Khargol himself left for Dawnstar, his first stop on his way to the horn of Jurgen Windcaller.
'On the road, Khargol came across a frightened woman who pleaded him for help. Most people would have to be desperate to ask a wandering orc for help, so Khargol knew that she must be at her wits' end. She explained that she had escaped from a place called Mistwatch, an old fort that had been taken over by bandits and was being used to house captives taken in the bandits' raids. The bandits were keeping the people like cattle and trying to ransom them back to their families. The woman had escaped and was trying to find a town in which she could seek refuge.
'Khargol pointed her in the direction of Whiterun, offering to escort her the rest of the way. She turned down his offer and ran off, marking on his map the location of the bandit stronghold.'
'That was unexpected,' Phane mused.
'Let me just get to this part,' Drelis said, licking his lips. 'As the tundra turned to snow-covered plain and forest, Khargol experienced true cold that evening. A creature known as an ice wraith, serpentine and frozen to the core, attacked him as he traveled. Khargol had read about such creatures, but had not been unfortunate enough to come across one. When he passed from Whiterun Hold into The Pale, he found that they were just lying in wait under the snow for unawares travelers.
'Such creatures are difficult to make out in the snowy landscape. They seem to be made of ice, and they attack their prey by driving their cruel icy bodies again and again into the warm bodies that intrude in their territory. It was only by slashing blindly at the evil creature that Khargol was finally able to smash it to pieces and save himself from a frigid fate.'
'Ice wraiths?' Phane frowned. 'Never heard of them.'
'They must be indigenous to Skyrim,' suggested Lalaine. 'Are they some form of ghost or daedra?'
'To be perfectly honest, I am not sure,' Drelis admitted. 'What is certain from Khargol's account of them is that they are extremely dangerous creatures and most unlike anything else you are likely to come across, even in a potentially cold place like Skyrim.'
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