As Farengar gave me his warning, my heart rate went from resting to about 8 billion in half a second. I don’t know what could be a threat to me here, on a bed in Dragonsreach except maybe… My adrenaline found a whole new gear to ramp my system up as I jumped off the bed and started shaking Faendal awake.

Short of a full scale invasion, there was really only one thing that could threaten me here. A dragon, and Akatosh was the “Dragon God of Time,” to quote the line from the RPG. He must have sent a dragon to come over and lay the smite down on me. It had just taken awhile for one to get here.

“What?” Faendal said, grabbing me as he came to. “What’s going on?” Still muzzled, I pointed to Farengar.

“We have to get you out of Dragonsreach, and Whiterun, right away,” Farengar said, and I could see he wasn’t his usual natty self.

“What’s wrong?” Faendal said, getting up and quickly getting his boots on and checking his gear.

“The Companions came to see the Jarl a little while ago,” the wizard said, leaning back to look back up the corridor toward the main hall. “It seems someone has placed a bounty on our courier here and the Companions mean to collect. They want the pony, and they want him now.”

“I take it the Jarl isn’t about to hand us over to them,” Faendal said, finishing getting his gear together and checking to make sure I had everything.

“No, he’s not,” Farengar said, leading us down some stairs to a lower level of the keep. “Jarl Balgruuf, I’m proud to say, is a true nord. You broke bread with him, and that obligates him to protect you while you and the pony are under his roof.”

“Then why are you taking us to the dungeons?” Faendal asked, and I noticed his hand was on his belt knife.

“Warriors,” Farengar muttered, while rolling his eyes. “Always thinking their blades are the only thing that needs to be sharp.”

“I swore to protect James, and that’s what I mean to do. If you, or the Jarl intend—” Faendal began.

“The Jarl has obligations as a host to the pony, but he also has obligations to the Companions,” Farengar said, his hand on the handle of an iron bound door. “He is balancing his need to honour guest-right, while not offending warriors who have performed several favors in the past for Whiterun. Warriors who would make an excellent auxiliary to the guard if they can be swayed to the Jarl’s service.”

“Oh,” Faendal said, and I could see him relax as he understood the politics at play. “What are we doing down here then?”

“I’m taking you out of Dragonsreach through one of the side doors,” the wizard said. "From there I’ve arranged for one of the guards to let you out the city gates with no one the wiser.”

“Sorry,” Faendal said, grimacing. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“I imagine it has,” Farengar said, opening the door and leading us through the dungeon until we came to another door. “On the other side of this door is the guard who will get you out of Whiterun. Good luck.” As he made to open the door I put a hoof against his leg and looked up at him.

“What is it, pony?” the wizard asked, and I pointed to my saddlebags while raising an eyebrow in mute question.

“I had completely forgotten, thank you,” Farengar said, and reaching into his robes he pulled out a few things. “Here are the letters the Jarl would like you to deliver, plus some coin for your trouble and some food for the road. Along with the circlets for your… mares.” I nodded my thanks while Faendal divided up the load between us.

“Thank you,” Faendal said, as Farengar opened the door.

We hurried out the door, to where a guard was waiting as promised, and we could barely see him in the pre-dawn gloom. He motioned us forward without a word and Faendal and I followed him around the side of the massive building. It was a clear night, with just a sliver of a moon to see by. The cold night air penetrated my fur, and I did my best to ignore it.

A far deadlier chill ran up my spine though as we reached the long stairs back down toward the plaza that held the Gildergreen. Looking back along the walkway to the main entrance of Dragonsreach, I could clearly see the balance of the Companions standing by the big double doors in a pool of torchlight. It made me wonder just how much the bounty on me was, if it had drawn out all of the warrior band.

“Is there someone with that guard?” I heard a woman with a bow on her back ask, and a cold sweat broke out along my spine. Every instinct I had, both human and pony, started screaming at me to run, but I held myself to a walk knowing that running would be like holding up a sign saying, "Here he is." Thank god our guard seemed to have picked up on things and started hurrying us down the wide stairs.

“I’ve set up a diversion,” the guard said, to us as we neared the halfway point. “It won’t slow them down for long, but it should give us a bit of a lead.”

“I think I see them,” a deep throated male voice called out from the top. I was just about to shit a brick and switch to four wheel panic mode when another voice made itself known.

“Greetings, brother!” Heimskr said, stepping in front of the tall warrior who had spotted us. “Talos told me you would be here, and so you are. You are here to hear the words of the mighty Talos! Talos the unerring, Talos the unassailable!”

“Out of my way,” the warrior said, even as Heimskr’s acolytes surrounded the Companions.

“Listen to me, brother,” Heimskr said, and I could hear that smile in his voice. “Talos is a god of warriors, for he fought many battles when he lived among us as a man. Would you, a warrior, risk the wrath of the God of Warriors? Would you risk the anger of powerful and mighty Talos? Before whom all of us are mere maggots, crawling in the earth.”

There was more, and not even the muzzle of the gods could keep a small chuckle from escaping me as we continued on our way down. The Companions were neatly stuck in place until Heimskr finished his sermon to them. As I could attest from ongoing experience, one does not tick off the gods of Tamriel without consequences.

“I wrote off some of his fines for being a public nuisance,” the guard said, as we passed the Gildergreen. “We need to hurry though. The old wound from when I took an arrow to the knee slows me down a bit.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask a guard about that ever since the detachment came to Riverwood,” Faendal asked, as we strode along the nearly deserted streets. “Why do so many of you have old arrow wounds in your knees?” I knew that somehow at that moment, there were a thousand thousand pairs of ears listening in for the answer.

“Simple,” the guard said, who was beginning to develop a limp. “Most of us used to be soldiers, and a soldier holds the line and keeps his shield up over his body. Knees are the target most unprotected that you can survive getting hit in.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Faendal said, as we neared the gates. “How long until sunrise?”

“About an hour, I think,” the guard said, who paused to talk to his fellows at the gate. “Damn, you’ve got to move. The Companions aren’t more than five minutes behind us. Get out of here, and we’ll slow them down as much as we can.”

“Thank you,” Faendal said, clapping the guard on the shoulder.

“Just help the courier do his job and help the Jarl keep the peace,” the guard said, as the big gate creaked open just enough to let us through. “Besides, this is better than breaking up drunken fights or dealing with petty thieves.”

The two of us set out at a jog, and I wondered what we were going to do. The Companions were probably at least as fast as us, and Faendal was more of a hunter than a warrior. Not to mention we were outnumbered at least four to one. I was trying to think of options when my nose bumped into Faendal’s butt as he came to a sudden halt.

“Khajiit has wares, if you have coin,” said the voice of a Khajiit merchant who was sitting in front of one of their low, long tents at the side of the big road that lead up to the gates. I had no idea who he was, but he sat there radiating confidence and the desire to help us empty our coin pouches.

“Does Khajiit have a place we can hide?” Faendal asked. “There are some unpleasant people after us.”

“All things are possible, with coin,” the merchant said, lifting the flap of the tent behind him. “Ten gold will rent you time in my tent.”

“Ten now, and ten later if you do a good job of hiding us,” Faendal said, and the cat’s eyes seemed to glow.

“Your custom is as welcome as the warm sands of Elsweyr,” the cat said, motioning us in and we wasted no time getting into the tent and laying down. Another couple of Khajiit ladies put blankets over us, while a couple of crates went in front to make sure there was no line of sight between us and the opening of the tent.

The blanket was welcome for it’s warmth, and I had to fight not to go back to sleep in the warm darkness. A clawed hand sliding along my mane under the blanket brought me back to full awareness in an instant.

“Do not worry, elf,” said the Khajiit, in a soft, furry voice even as she stroked my mane and neck. “Ri’saad will keep his bargains until all the sugar in the world turns sour. I will keep your pet calm for you. You are wise to have kept him muzzled so he begin to whinny or give you away to those who follow you.”

Oh, how I wanted to fire back at that remark. In a pig’s eye I was calm. If the situation wasn’t so desperately crazy… My train of thought derailed as some interesting messages from my body made it to my brain. The cat’s clawed hands weren’t just gliding over my mane and body, she was also pushing at distinct places along my neck, head and spine in a deliberate sequence.

In spite of my wanting to stay keyed up and ready for action if we had to make a run for it, I could feel my body betraying my mind by sliding slowly into a deeply relaxed state. All volition came to a grinding halt as her strong paws rubbing at the base of my ears sent me into a totally submissive state of mind. I was awake, I was aware, but I had no intention of doing anything other than just sitting there in the state of mental and physical relaxation I’d been placed in. It was a form of physical hypnotism so powerful I didn’t even react when several pairs of booted feet came running up.

“You there, Cat,” a woman’s voice said. “Have you seen an elf go running past?”

“Ri’saad has seen many elves,” the merchant purred back. “A specific one perhaps?”

“We’re wasting our time,” a man’s deep voice said, gruff and angry sounding. “Thieving cats only care about money.”

“Maybe this will sharpen your memory,” the woman said to Ri’saad, ignoring her companion as a coin made a pinging sound. “We’re looking for an elf, he would have run past in the last while. He would have had a talking pony with him.”

“A talking pony?” Ri’saad asked, rhetorically. “Khajiit has seen no such creature. However, he did see a running elf with a small colt not long ago.” I could feel Faendal stiffen beside me, and my handler stopped playing with my mane and started doing something with my fetlocks.

“A colt?” the angry man asked. “Which way did they go? Answer me, you godsdamned cat.”

“Easy, Farkas,” the woman said, and the hands on my fetlocks drew something snug around them while I lay there calmed and at peace. “The hunt does not go to the angriest hunter, but the one with the most patience. Merchant, was the colt brown, and was the elf a Bosmer?”

“Your eye sees the past, Huntress,” Ri’saad said, pleasure in his voice. “They were such as you say.”

“Which way did they go?” the woman said, and Faendal froze as he lay beside me.

“Down the road, with much haste,” the merchant said, and Faendal’s body relaxed. “It was not long ago.”

“We can still catch them,” Farkas said, and I heard him running off.

“If you see them again,” the woman said, to Ri’saad, “Head to Jorrvaskr and tell my fellow Companions. There will be more coin.”

“Why do you seek them?” Ri’saad asked, with the curiosity of a cat. “Did they wrong you in some way?”

“There is a bounty of 2,000 gold for whoever can catch the pony and bring him back alive,” the woman said, confiding in the Khajiit. “I’m willing to share some of that with you if your information is good.”

“The Khajiit will keep their eyes open,” Ri’saad said, and my handler started playing with my head and neck again. “May you find what you seek.” I heard another set of feet leave and go running off.

“I thought you were going to hand us over to them for a second there,” Faendal said, relief plain in his voice.

“Quiet,” Ri’saad hissed. “The huntress is still nearby. “Atah, how is the pet?”

“Secured and safe,” my handler said, still doing that manual voodoo with her hands. “He is not a problem.”

“Good, we will be as we appear for a time,” Ri’saad said, in a very soft voice. “Boxes under blankets should not move or speak for now.”

Faendal got the hint and shut up. We lay there under the blanket for some decent period of time, and I drifted off into a light doze. So it was with some surprise when the blanket was pulled back and I was able to look up and see the lightening sky.

I lifted my head, a clattering sound from behind my ears making me freeze in place for a moment. Tossing my head, I saw that someone had done up my mane in several braids and woven a series of clay beads into them, which accounted for the clattering sound. The real surprise was when I went to shift my legs to bring them under me and discovered that I had been hobbled.

A set of leather bands had been buckled around each of my fetlocks and had been secured to each other by leather straps, holding me in a loose hogtie. If I jumped up and started pronking I could move, but other than that I was immobilized. I started to get pissed off, but then I saw Faendal, his body covered by a long flowing robe, talking calmly with Ri’saad and I mentally played back the events with the merchant.

The Khajiit had never heard me speak, had never seen me interact with anyone. Their only impression of me was in those first few moments when we had met, when Faendal had found a way to save both our asses. They had to have assumed I was just an oddly coloured and shaped horse. A “colt” Ri’saad had referred to me as.

I kept following the logic trail, a shocking concept even to myself. If I was a colt in the eyes of the Khajiit it meant they thought I was Faendal’s pet, which would in turn explain why the young Khajiit woman had done what she had to me. She had been keeping a potentially skittish and spookable animal calm so as to not give the game away. I’d been hobbled so she could stop handling me for a bit if she needed to. Speaking of which.

“Hello, little one,” said the Khajiit, whose name I think was ‘Atah’. “It is okay, none will harm you. You are safe.”

She kept repeating those words to me in a soft, gentle voice as she sat down beside me. I tried to hold out a couple of my hooves to her in a “get these off of me” gesture, but the moment I did a hand of hers pulled on a strap and all four of my hooves were drawn close together, while her other paw went right to the base of my ears again.

I tried to fight it off, but she had obviously figured out what worked best on me. This time it only took her seconds to wipe out any thoughts I had of doing anything other than just lying there. My brain and body sunk back into neutral bliss, as she rubbed my ears in gentle circles.

“Your pet is obedient, but wilful like all colts when he wants to be,” Atah said, over to Faendal who was walking over with a very mixed expression on his face. “This one would be willing to train him for you. He would be hard for the hunters to find if he was always on the move with our caravan. In time, he could even be bred to a mare of your choosing.” Faendal bit his lip, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to avoid laughing or avoid showing anger.

“That won’t be necessary,” Faendal said, his face inscrutable. “But thank you for the offer.” Right then, the sun finally cracked the edge of the horizon and as its light spread over the land it touched Akatosh's muzzle, turning to smoke in the wind.

“Please,” I managed to gasp out, as the muzzle’s constant pressure melted away from my head. “Stop… that.” Atah’s fingers stopped only for a moment, but then kept on going and turning my will into putty.

“That is a very good trick,” Atah said to Faendal, who knelt beside us. “This one has been caring for horses all her life and never gotten one to sound like a person.”

“That’s because he is a person,” Faendal said, beginning to pull at my hobbles. “He’s also the person I’ve sworn to protect, so please stop what you’re doing to him. Although it does look like he’s enjoying it.” Atah stopped with her ministrations, and in the time it took Faendal to get the hobbles off me, my brain had managed to reboot itself.

“Holy shit,” I said, right off the bat. “What the hell were you doing to me?”

“Atah has a gift with horses,” Ri’saad said, coming up as well. “It is, but is not magic.”

“How did it feel to you, little colt?” Atah asked me, her nimble paws slipping back into my mane before I had a chance to react. “Hold still, so your mane can be finished.”

“Like my mind had been dipped in warm honey, and finished what?” I asked, holding stock still as my mind decided to paint a nightmare scenario for me. Faendal overwhelmed by the caravan while, Atah overwhelmed my will with her skills before I was bound up and delivered to whoever wanted to pay that huge sum for me.

“We will braid long hairs into your mane and tail using the beads as anchors,” Ri’saad said, putting a paw on my leg. “Long, dyed hairs that will change your colour and shape. It is your best opportunity to avoid the huntress on your trail.”

“Thank you,” I said, relaxing. "You didn’t have to do all this, but I appreciate it. And Faendal, you really came through for me. You could’ve just left me behind, saved yourself, and no one would have known any different. I owe you one.”

“I promised to protect you,” the Bosmer said, smiling proudly. “What’s our next move?”

“I think we should stay off the main roads as much as we can,” I said, ignoring Atah as best I could while she began work on my tail. Damn thing kept flicking around with a mind of its own. “One of my deliveries is to a bandit encampment near here. That will get us off the roads and out of sight for awhile.”

“I have always had a soft place in my heart for those who travel with courage instead of weapons,” Ri’saad said, smiling down at me. “May you journey safely in this hard and cold land. Know that our fires will always be warm for you and your companion.”

Author's Note

Things are heating up for our little pony, that's for sure. I wanted to take James out of the spotlight a bit this chapter and give Faendal a chance to shine. I didn't get as far as I wanted to this chapter but things will continue to build with the Companions hot on his heels.

By the way, was I the only one who thought Kodlak Whitemane's name was "Kodiak" originally?