“Again,” Miraak shouted, after watching twilight fail for the third time on the "Sparks" spell. “Do not use your horn as a conductor, use your hands, use the power flowing through you.”

“I've tried, but nothing seems to work!” She yelled, panting and wiping her face.

“Listen, it's simple. Just focus for Shor's sake!” She huffed and took a deep breath. Closing her eye's and raised her hands to her chest. As she began to concentrate her face began to turn red with frustration. As a small, barely visible, blue light began to form between her hands.

“Focus...” He said. She tried even harder to keep the minuscule spark alive, straining herself in the process. As it became stable she opened her eye's and smiled. She lost control again and it eventually reached it's peak and exploded, sending her across the room, into the wall, in a trail of smoke and feathers.

Slightly laughing under his breath due to the surprised shriek she let out, he quickly walked to her side and looked down at her. Her arms, shirt, and muzzle were covered in black soot from the small blast. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I. ALMOST. HAD IT!” She yelled, flailing her arms around.

“Almost,” He mocked, she huffed and then kicked his leg.

“And how are you doing?” She said, “Are you excelling in our magic?”

”I cant, I have no staff or wand. But I must admit, you are doing better, just—”

“If you say focus or concentrate... one more time! I will teleport you to the lake!” She shouted, glaring at him for a moment. He wasn't fused, crossing his arms he was no doubt cocking an eyebrow from under that mask. Covering her face and began mumble.

“That and more reading which I know you don't turn down a good book.” She simply grumbled even more. “Perhaps destruction isn't suiting you yet... maybe we could start you off on a simpler spell, an illusion or alteration spell perhaps, maybe restoration, a potion would help.” Huffing once again the princess stood up and wiped the black soot from her.

“If you say so,” She mumbled. “Got any on hand?”

“I have a scroll in my chambers, a spell called Muffle, I can go and get it if you want?”

“No no, I'll do it later.” She began to shake the soot from her tail.

“Are you busy?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming to visit, shouldn’t take so long.”

“Who is coming to visit?"

“Mire Lily, she's a Moth Pony from the south, a delegate for her lady and a mother of one of my students.” He had heard of these Moth-Ponies from the books he'd read. They were in a way the link between the regular Equestrian species and the Changeling.

“Well, I do hope you enjoy your... visit. Perhaps you could be so kind to take me to your new school when we get the chance.” Since he’d arrived Twilight hadn’t taken him to this... Friendship School she and her friends co-owned and ran. It was currently closed due to the upcoming holiday.

“You'll see it eventually, how about you go get that sleeve fixed in the meantime?” He looked down at the torn sleeve the Timber Wolf. “Rarity could fix it up in an hour or so.”

"Hmm...I suppose it's better than staying inside, I'll be off then.” She took a small bag of bits from the table and handed it to him. Thanking her he tied the string around his belt and walked towards the training rooms exit, turning to see Twilight open another door and walk out.

“She mess it up again?” Spike said, he was sitting on a bench and reading through one of the strange books Spike called "Comic books" while eating a large red gem.

“Did her shriek give it away, or was it the explosion?”

“Well, she'll figure it out eventually.”

“It will be difficult, my native spells do not require a conductor like her horn.” Spike took a bite of the gem with a loud crunch coming from it.

“Mm, true. What about you? Wouldn't you need one for ours though?”

“Yes, a wand or staff. Hmm... perhaps simple jewelry even.”

“Well, have fun with that. Where you off now?” He showed Spike the torn sleeve.

“The seamstress, Rarity. I need her to fix this.”

“Oh, well tell her I said hi would you?” Spike then reopened the small comic that said, Power Ponies in return to Applewood. Issue #27.

The town was relatively quiet, save for the many Ponies raking leaves and bustling in and out of the local bakery and candy stores for the upcoming holiday. Many of the citizens had even decorated their houses with lights, plastic decorations, and pumpkins with multiple varieties of faces carved upon them. One house was selling bags full of leaves that were tied to be in the shape of plastic covered bodies.

The locals paid him no mind, some watched him and those that walked by him either nodded or said nothing, he didn't care. As he passed the local bakery the smell of fresh breads and cakes drowned out the smell of burning leaves.

Walking past the local spa he could then see Rarities boutique at the end of the road. Out front was a sign that said, "Fall
Super Sale’s, now 30% off all Nightmare Night costumes". In the ditches next to the road were several leaves being set ablaze by three young Ponies. One was an Earth Pony, another was a Pegasus, and the last was a small Unicorn.

He recognized the Earth Pony as Applejacks young sister Apple Bloom. “Hiya!” She said, waving at him. “Looking for Rarity?”

“I am... ” The girls all pointed towards the boutique.

“She's inside...” The small Unicorn said, “She really doesn't leave much this time of year, big quota to work on for Nightmare Night.” Thanking the girls he walked inside the boutique.

A small bell chimed when he opened the door, it was a rather large room full of Pony shaped mannequins wearing the new cloths for Mares, Stallions, and young children. Most were Nightmare Night costumes and cloths for the cold weather. “I'll be right with you darling!” A voice said across the room.

Rarity emerged from a nearby room. She had pencils, designs for new clothing, and a ruler in her hand and a red pair of glasses on her nose. “OH it's you dear, I was wondering when you'd eventually wander here. Are you looking for new cloths?”

“No, I was wondering if you could repair this?” He said, holding up the sleeve and then sticking his hand through it.

“Hmm, as dreadful the color is it'll be a quick fix. Follow me.” As much as he wanted to correct her and educate her on it's ceremonial use, he decided it was better to hold his tongue. He then thought back on the day he, Nahkriin, and Vahlok received their robes and masks. Then remembering the horrible hangover the next morning from celebration.

She led him into a smaller room full of unfinished garments, the walls were decorated in old and recent sketches of clothing. Sitting on a comfortable red couch Rarity retrieved a small box with sewing needles and sat next to him. Taking his hand once more she then closely examined the fabric.

“Something you fancy...?” He asked, putting her glasses on she leaned in closer to get a much better look.

“Hmm... it's not cotton or wool, silk?”

“Something close, it was weaved from the silk of a frostbite spider and the wool from Skyrim's hardiest of rams. It's durable, insulated, and comfortable.” He said, then looking at the color of it. “And it was never green... it used to be blue. Once...”

“Must'ave been sometime ago. Mm... well I must admit as comfortable as it is the color is still horrid." She said, he couldn't help but agree at that. It was long ago since it was last it's blue color, before the fumes and bile of Aphocrypha changed it to the color it is now. “I could try and recolor it if you want?”

”Perhaps, I will think on it.” As Rarity continued to stitch he decided to look around the room. Mainly at the well drawn figures and dresses in her sketches and then at the clothing itself, most lying unfinished on busts.
Looking around he saw a corset lying on her desk. Raising his free hand and using the telekinesis spell he pulled it towards him. Taking the red corset in hand he saw the multiple gems lined in a pattern on it. Red, blue, green, and red again. “Is this your work?”

“Yes, the customer is Filthy Rich, an anniversary gift for that harpy he calls a wife.”

“How did you get the gems into the fabric? They look fused, not sewn.” She cut the thread and pulled another from her box.

“I used a spell, complicated little trick I learned in the Crystal Empire. I don't wish to bore you darling so I won't go into detail.” He simply looked at her.

“Hmph... try me.” Laughing slightly she then went on about the spell. As she continued he looked at each gem, until one caught his eye. Once he saw it he showed it to her. “Would I be able to see this one?”

“Sure, but what for?” As the gem was pulled from the corset he set the garment aside and took a closer look at the gem. Like the others it was cut to perfection to fit into the slots on the corset. But it's color and shape wasn't the thing that interested him.

“This gem... I can feel the small bit of power behind it.” He said, multiple gems of this strength could be used as a conductor on a staff or wand. “We had something similar where I come from, where do these come from?”

“From a mine a bit outside of town, I buy them from the tribe of Diamond Dog's there.” As she finished the final bits of repair he quickly stood up. “Not much for hygiene but they're good when it comes to gems.”

“Could you take me there?”

“Well... I suppose I could. I'm low in supply of blue azurite... I guess it’d be a good idea to get a tad more before I run dry.” She said, untying her hair from the bun her natural curls fell on her shoulders. “Just let me get some things around then we'll go.”

As she set her things aside and walked towards the door. “Oh and before I forget darling, as payment I'm willing to let you pass unless you do something for me.” He looked at Rarity.

“Do what exactly?” She pointed at the various sketches.

“I was wondering, just in case I needed to repair some of your cloths, I'd make some spares for you or at least some cloths that match your... well size. And form of course.”

“Well... I suppose I see no harm in it. Can we do it when we return?” Before he could look back up at her she already had the measuring tape and he pencil.

“Oh don't worry darling this wont take but a minute, now remove the mask and the upper portion of your robe so I can get the right size and width.” She walked to her desk and looked for another pencil or pen as Miraak did as she said. “Now let's begi—OH... oh my...” He voice went from the normal tone to a surprised shriek and then quiet squeak rather quickly as she turned and saw him.

“Is... everything alright?” He asked. Her face was as red as the eldest Apple sibling, maybe more so, and she was fanning herself off, coughing she walked forward.

“OH Uhm....nothing at all dear... nothing whatsoever.” She extended the bit of tape and took his height and then width, looking at his rather fit and muscular form that was hidden under the robes he wore. “Mm... Rarity like...~”

“Did you say something?”

“Oh nothing dear, nothing at all~.” She giggled and continued to get the right measurements while he stood perfectly still.

****Central Skyrim near Rorikstead, five days from Whiterun****

The cart slowly rattled and creaked along the stone road, the old stone walls lining them had long since dilapidated from years, more like centuries, or miss repair. The occasional skeleton of an animal or an unfortunate traveler would sometimes lie alongside the road. In the distance a small trio of Giants watched over their mammoths as they grazed in the grassy fields.

Tyr and Frea rode on the cart while Teldryn and Rayya rode ahead of them while Ralis and Lydia rode behind them. In the back of the cart was a large iron cage covered by a large cloth. It's prisoner, the Falmer they had captured was inside of it and well sedated with venison that was soaked in a sleep potion.

Along with the Falmer were several other crates for Gelebor, books mainly, with some preserved foods and wines. It was the least he could do for destroying the sanctuary. The cart shook as it rolled over a pothole. “Damn!” Tyr yelled as the cage behind him rattled and nearly woke the Falmer.

“How far until we reach the camp?” Frea asked.

“It's right over the hill, not long.” He said, tired from sitting as he's sure she was.

Rounding the small hill they could then look down into the valley ahead and see the bustling camp. Atop the hills and near the cave of Orthiem were several Khajiit guards on lookout. One of them saw their small convoy and blew a horn to alert the camp below.

Outside of the walls were several more tents and small stables full of horses, goats, pigs, and some chickens. Along those were small gardens being plowed to grow food. Along the river were several small boats and racks of drying fish. Closest to the gate was a large building being constructed.

Khajiit were hard at work digging the large basement, some lined the floor with stones while others were raising the support beams and constructing the main floor. By the size it may be an Inn or Tavern. In the center of this small and bustling village was a large watchtower with two Khajiit atop it.

As they rode down the hill they passed a small caravan already leaving the camp. It had about two large carts, one was covered and full of what he assumed was their trade goods and the other was covered and used to hold their supplies. Both carts were pulled by horses and the one leading it was a spotted Khajiit riding upon a camel, he was adorned in robes that looked native to Hammerfell. There were ten others walking among it, most were armed and strangely enough some were Argonians.

Once they reached the camp it's large wooden gates opened up and three guards approached them, one took the reigns while the other two escorted them inside.

Several animal skin and cloth tents were erected in the small square with a fire in the center of the camp, as they walked in a large and burly grey and white Khajiit with earnings and braided sideburns watched them enter. Smoke came from his nose as he held the lit Skooma pipe in his left hand. In his right was a large wooden club with iron bands.

Passing another tent he could see two Khajiit, one was spotted like a leopard and she sat on a stool near a large bed while the other, a male with the same Lynx like coloring as the two escorts, was preparing a large travel kit with a curved sword. Unlike the rest of the Khajiit he could see she was in her later terms of pregnancy.

Walking up the small incline a large group of Khajiit were gathered in a large circle in front of the main house, likely where Ri'saad lived and coordinated the other caravans, and cheered on two Khajiit fighting one another. An Argonian was taking bets with gems, Skooma, Moon Sugar, or coins of either silver or gold. As they walked past Tyr noticed one of the Khajiit was Kharjo, one of his close friends.

Like his opponent they were unarmored, shirtless, and wearing simple trousers. His opponent was a large lion like Khajiit with one eye, scars across his chest, and he had digitigrade like legs. Claws and teeth showing the two hissed and howled at one another, the larger lion one was much louder then Kharjo.

The fight had been going on for sometime due to the evident bruising and bleeding scratch marks on one another.

While Kharjo did sound rather animal like, with his growls, snorts, and hissing, his opponent was much more vocal. As they were crouched yet at eye level Kharjo quickly grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and threw it in the others eye's.

As the one Khajiit howled amd wiped his eye’s Kharjo ran at him, wrapping his arms around the beasts mid section he lifted him off the ground and slammed him back first onto the dirt. As the Khajiit had the wind knocked from him he wheezed and tried to get his breath back. Kharjo then pinned him to the ground.

As the crowed cheered, booed, or walked away the Argonian gathered the winning bet into a purse and walked to Kharjo, who was helping the large Khajiit off the ground. Patting the large lion on the back as he walked away, the lion giving him a surprisingly friendly nod, he wiped his bloody nose and took the purse.

Ri'saad watched from his steps, leaning against the house with a skooma pipe in hand. Seeing them he waved them inside and then walked in himself. “A dirty move,” Tyr said to Kharjo, who was drinking from a water bladder.

“Bah, nothing this one wouldn't have done. How have you fared friend?”

“As well as I can, did Ri'saad inform you of the job?”

“Yes, a delivery he said, with extra muscle to help escort.” He set the water bladder aside, sitting down on a stump he put on a shirt that was lying close to it and put his moon amulet on after that. “What exactly are we.... delivering?” He said, taking a drink from the bottle of wine next to his pack.

“We're going to the vale...” He said, causing Kharjo to spit out a portion of the wine.

“In Oblivians name for? Nothing there but snow and Falmer.”

“And a Falmer is what we're delivering, along with supplies for Gelebor.” The cat huffed and rubbed his head.

“Ready my things I will, Ri'saad is waiting inside.” He stood up, taking his pack he then walked towards the tents.

Upon entering the main house he could see it has been repaired recently with a new roof made from wood shingles, expensive drapes, and ornate Dunmer furniture. As he suspected there was a large table in the center of the room with a map of Skyrim on it, trade routes highlighted in red.

“Seems like everything is working well for you and your people?”

“Ah yes, the caravans have a place to stay now, a safe place. I have guards camped up in Orthiem to watch for raiders, a tower will be built there soon.”

“And by the look of the Inn being made and land being plowed this place could become a town if it fares.” Ri’saad smoked from the pipe and blew smoke from his nose. “Some have wanted to make a wall to keep vermin out.”

“And the local Nords?” Tyr asked, sitting in one of the chairs.

“Hmph... the same.” He said, taking another drag from the pipe. “Some throw insults, some throw cow pies, some throw rocks. Though the ones in Rorikstead have no qualms with us being here, and at least the guards the Jarl send do their jobs...” The Khajiit sighed, rubbing his eye’s and setting the pipe aside. “Now, to the topic at hand. What is it you need moved and why so many guards?”

Tyr stood up and looked around the map. “Do you have a map of the Reach?” Ri’saad opened a small chest and took out a map. As he had asked for it was a map of the Reach. Looking around it he used a small bit of coal to mark the location of the cave. “We’re going here, Darkwater cave.”

“What is in this cave?” Tyr looked at his companions, “Wander for a bit and shut the door. Ri’saad, is their a place we can speak in private.” He nodded and stood up, walking over to a hatch he unlocked it and beckoned him inside. Tyr followed him into the hole, it lead him under the house and into a small cave full of riches and supplies. Once they were both down there Ri'saad leaned against the ladder.

“We are taking a Falmer there, the cave leads to a place called the Forgotten Vale, a place where the last of the Snow Elves resided.”

“And full of Falmer I’d assume, I knew somehting smelt off when you arrived. No more than a year ago I lost one of my own to the Famler. Does anyone live there?”

“The reason why I asked for a place quiet. Yes, one of the last Snow Elves, his name is Gelebor. The reason I wanted to speak in secret is for his own safety, I know I can trust you Ri’saad.”

“And you can... the others wont like the fact we’re moving a Falmer, but they’ll be quiet if paid enough. I’ll have them ready by sunset, Kharjo as well.” He said, “Besides you pay well... remember before sundown.”

“I’ll have them ready.” As they climbed out of the cave and eventually left the house Ri’saad called up six other Khajiit as well as Kharjo while Tyr went off to find his companions.

“Ah there you are.” Ralis said, unlike the others he was perched against the house.

“Figured you’d be browsing their wares.”

“No not today, Teldryn took off and Lydia is showing our new friend the wonders of Khajiit markets.” It must have been an interesting experience for Freya since she left Solesthiem.

“Have you seen our escort?”

“Yes, that burly beast with the eye patch we saw coming in is one, another is a Khajiit spell-sword. Not really sure on the others but all I know is the last is a Nord by the name of Frofnir Trollsbane.”

“Sounds familiar... should we meet him?”

“I suppose so.” Thw two walked from the main encampment and into the small marketplace outside of it. The small market was mainly composed of Khajiit with the occasional Argonian and Human. An Orc with his two bodyguards was looking over a selection of mammoth ivory.

Near the under construction Inn was, what he thought, a temporary one made from a large fabric tent. Going inside the temporary inn he saw a long counter at the end with four small ale casks lined together with a spotted Khajiit behind the counter cleaning out a wooden mug. “Ah welcome friends, how may M’dron help you today?”

“I’m looking for someone, a Nord named Frofnir Trollsbane, is he around?” From behind him he heard a loud whistle.

“Oi! Over here.” The Khajiit pointed to a man sitting in the corner of the tent. Like most of the few customers he was sitting at a table made from a barrel and discarded wagon wheel.

Walking to the table the blonde and burly Nord took a drink from his ale. “Are you Trollsbane?” The man nodded and grunted quietly as he drank.

Wiping his mouth he looked at him, “Aye, ‘tis me. What do you need?”

“I’m just wondering who’ll be escorting my caravan, I was expecting mainly Khajiit.”

“Aye I’m an exception... “ He eye’d Tyr’s armor. “Where would I get an armor like that... Dragonbone right?”

“Yes, I made mine.”

From behind him Ralis said, “Why are you with the Khajiit,You’ve a debt to pay?” The Nord nodded and drank again.

“Aye something like that... more or less due to my craft.”

“Troll hunting?”

“Aye and not just that, carpeting, stone work, and a few other things I can do. May be a decent handful of trolls here but it doesn’t amount to all my pay.” He said, finishing his ale and setting the cup aside. “What ya want to know?”

“Just curious is all, your history, why a Nord like you is really working with the Khajiit. Why you have a helmet made from a trolls skull sitting next to your feet...” Tye picked up the helmet, it was the front portion of a troll's face strapped to the iron helmet.

“Well, grew up in Falkreath and moved on after me first Troll kill.” He took helmet the helmet from Tyr and set it on the table, pointing at two holes in it’s skull.

“Pitchfork?”

“Aye, rammed it right into his head. Big’ol frost troll he was, I tracked him after he ripped apart me da, ma, sisters, our horses, and our pigs. Rammed the pitchfork in his head while he was asleep. I then took the armor of some poor bastard he killed,“ He then banged onto the old iron breastplate he was wearing. “and then took his head. Locals called me Trollsbane after that.”

“What then?” Asked Tyr, taking one of the drinks the Khajiit offered him.

“I did my trade, troll-hunting set me straight and filled m' pockets, ended up losing my pitchfork to another Troll but I later found an old Dwemer sword in it's warren. Made a bit of my name for myself so I traveled to Cyridil, Hammerfell, and even Highrock and Orinsium a few times hunting trolls until I met Ri’Saad and his caravan in High Rock about a decade ago. Ran into a smith whilst we's were in Hammerfell and I had him make me this hammer.” He uncorked another small bottle and drank it, "Last Troll I killed was a fat'un named sheep sealer. Was in a cave near Shor's Stone. Locals had no problem with him at first, they'd leave him some old meat and he'd be off and on his way. He then began stealing sheep, how he acquired his name, and then killed a couple hunters. It's where they hired me to put the beast down... 'twas about a week ago."

“An interesting tale, how long have you been employed by Ri’saad?”

“Mmm on and off... longest time was about a year and a half. Reason why I’m here now is cause I own the Inn outside.”

“You own the inn?”

“Aye... I’m four-and-thirty, I’ve the mind to settle down; I’m tired of the walkin’. Broken too many bones, there all weary now.” In a way he could relate, twenty some years of moving from place to place, the Great War, Alduin, The Dawnguard, and then Miraak. His home in Falkreath would be his own home, not someplace he’d bought. He'd finally be able to get a chance to rest for once.

“I understand how you feel... do you have anyone in mind to... settle with?” The Nord drank from his cup. Tyr did the same, being greeted with the familiar taste of ale mixed with berries and honey. Without removing the cup from his grasp the Nord motioned towards a young women at the counter with the Khajiit.

She was short with brownish braided hair and almond colored skin and pointed ears, almost to that of a Wood-Elves. “Not normal for a Nord to court an elf, or half-elf.” Before Frofnir could respond Ralis cut him off.

“That’s no Elf." He said, drinking from a flask full of Sujama.

“Aye... spot on he is. She’s what they call an Ohmes, lass is named Zuni.” He looked over at the women again and now noticed she was shorter than the standard Wood-Elf, though slightly.

“I take it the one art the counter is her father?” He simply replied with a small burp and another nod.

“Aye ‘tis him. He know’s I'd been plannin' on courtin' the lass.”

“She even compatible with you?” Ralis asked. Both he and Tyr shrugged.

“Well I may find out eventually... just need to pay for the wedding band.”

“You have enough for an Inn but not a wedding band?” Said Tyr.

“I spent all of what I have on the Inn, this trip will pay for the band.” He finished his drink and turned the cup upside down. “Now, where we headin’?”

“Darkwater Cave, it’s in the Reach. Might be a few trolls for you to kill as well.” Tyr responded, also finishing his drink.

“Oh goody me, I’ll get my hammer polished and ready.” He carried the helmet under his arm and placed his hammer in a sling on his back. “I’ll see ya soon.” As he left the tent the young Khajiit followed him out.

“I suppose it’d be best to find the others, you ready to go?” Ralis asked.

“Yeah, let’s get moving.” Tyr adjusted his sword and set a couple coins on the table. Giving a friendly nod to the bartender both he and Ralis left the tent and towards the small market.

**** Ponyville Quarry ****

After being measured and being returned his cloths by the white seamstress they quickly made their was through the forest and towards the quarry. Looking down on it from the cliff side he was able to see it's surprisingly impressive depth, the abandoned mining equipment, and the spiral gravel road leading down into a clearing with several small huts made of stone.

“Well there is is, Ponyville's old gem quarry and now currently home to a tribe of Diamond Dog's. It's their local Druid we need to speak too.” Rarity said, he looked at her and then down into the quarry again. Smoke was coming from the stone and thatch buildings and he saw several people walking among them.

But what caught his eye was a large, grey colored humanoid that he estimated was at least fourteen-feet tall. He was sitting near the small flooded section of the quarry, no doubt where they got their water, and was gently tossing small children into the pond. Once one was tossed it let off a deep and stupid laugh. “What is that?”

“Oh that's Bert, he's the local Troll. The Diamond Dog's hired him to serve as a heavy lifter and guard to keep the animals out. Be warned he's rather... ripe so don't get to close.” He looked down at the Troll that continued to amuse itself by tossing eager children into the deep water.

“Oh what an interesting day this will be... do lead on.” She was already ahead of him and walking down the spiral road. He quickly caught up to her and continued into the small village. The gem he had from her dress still in his hand and vibrating violently.

More were close...

Author's Note

Well this took longer than it needed, sorry for the long wait. My last laptop's hardrive failed so I needed to restore all my files and wait for the new laptop to be delivered. So yeah... mildly hectic.

But in other news I might be starting a Wattpad account, and I'll probably do some more stories there. Once it's set up I'll send a link.

But as always please enjoy and point out problems and errors pls.