~The Trouble with Mods~

Summary

It was a day like any other in Whiterun, until somebody decided to install some mods. Suddenly pot plants are materialising all over the city, houses are turning into towers and mansions, mannequins are coming to life, and are you sure porridge existed yesterday? Aela the Huntress, Ria the cutie-pie, and the courageous shop boy Sigurd must band together to endure the coming storm...

Aela the Huntress was sitting on the garden wall outside Jorrvaskr, the grassy ledge comfortable beneath her thighs. The sun shone brightly over the wall, but the breeze was enough to keep her cool while she had her savoury porridge.

Most of the Companions were having breakfast inside, and no-one was out for training yet, so she had the courtyard to herself. Just Aela, the smell of the lavender swaying in the breeze, and a delicious breakfast - what could be better?

Breakfast... It was a funny one. When Aela thought back on her years spent as a Companion, she couldn't remember a single time when she'd had porridge. Apple pie, yes; vegetable soup, definitely; bread, grilled leeks, roasted mammoth snouts and whole wheels of cheese, absolutely. But porridge? Never.

And she may well have been missing out, Aela reflected as she swallowed spoonfuls of creamy oat paste. The bowls of porridge Tilma had laid out for them that morning had seemed perfectly at home, steaming among the cups and bottles on the long tables. So why? Why had she never had any before?

The sounds of feet clomping across the courtyard brought Aela out of her pondering. "I say, Ria! Come here a minute," she requested.

Ria came there a minute, jangling past the veranda in her scaled armour. "Did you need something? I'd be happy to learn from you!" she said hopefully, taking a seat beside Aela.

"This is important. Have you ever had porridge before?" asked Aela.

"Por, porridge?" Ria blinked. "I-I don't know... Why? Was it all right?" she asked, noticing Aela's empty bowl.

"It was good," Aela said carefully. "But the thing is, Ria, before today... I don't rightly know if porridge EXISTED."

"Oh. Is that so?" Ria scratched her head. Still wearing that brown nail varnish, Aela noticed with some amusement. "Well, I do think porridge is real, Aela. There's history behind it. N-not that you've lost your wits or anything, it's just that-"

"Think about it, will you? Have you ever eaten porridge before, or even seen a bowl of porridge anywhere in Whiterun?" insisted Aela.

Ria bit her lip. "Well... Actually, no!" She turned up to the blue morning sky, her eyes wide. "But we both know what porridge is, and you had some for breakfast, didn't you? So porridge has to be real! Things don't just start existing, appear from out of nowhere."

Aela nodded, then she screamed.

"Aela! Oh, my days!" Ria jumped from her perch. Aela had been hurled a clean thirty feet into the air. A round bronze pot full of pale golden flowers sat on the grassy ledge where she had been.

Ria's eyes darted between the pot, pressing into the orange grass where Aela's bottom had been mere seconds ago, and Aela, spinning helplessly as she plummeted towards the courtyard. She screwed shut her eyes and offered a silent prayer to Akatosh.

After a few seconds without splat or scream of pain, Ria opened them again. Aela was dangling by the collar of her armour, bobbing up and down among the pink and white blossoms of a tall tree.

"Are... Are you all right?" Ria asked gently.

Aela grunted. "Oh, I'm doing wonderfully. Get me a ladder- Aiyeeee!"

The branch snapped. Aela fell flat on her face with a soft, heavy flumph noise.

"Oh, Mara! Oh, Stendarr!" Ria ran to the foot of the tree, which seemed to be growing straight out of the cobblestones. Aela was lying there, breathing heavily, splayed out like a bear skin rug. "Should I get someone? I'll get Farkas."

"Don't bother," growled Aela, clambering up on her hands and knees. "That settles it. We don't HAVE a tree in the courtyard! Just look at it, it's going to get in the way when we're exercising. Something's very wrong here, Ria."

"Yeah..." Ria offered Aela a hand up, and flinched a little when she grabbed the hand and hauled herself to her feet. "C-can you walk?"

"Obviously. Thanks." One of Aela's knees was bleeding, but it didn't seem to bother her.

"You're welcome. I believe you about the porridge, by the way," said Ria. "I would definitely have noticed the tree, and those plant pots..."

"Hey, you two!" Farkas was coming around the corner, his armour clanking as he ran. "There's something very strange happening to Jorrvaskr. Furniture appearing from out of nowhere, potted plants and..." He noticed the tree and stuttered. "And-and a... G-gildergreen...? We don't- we don't have one of those."

"We noticed, but thanks for the warning," Aela said wearily. She wiped a trickle of blood from her nose. "Ow."

"What happened?" asked Farkas.

"I was hurled into the air by a... pot plant," spat Aela.

"Well, isn't that just typical? Kodlak wants to see us all out front. Until we've got a handle on this, no-one's meant to go inside the... Building..." Farkas stared up at the tall stone walls bedecked with banners. "It's not safe inside while Jorrvaskr might be having... growing pains."

"I can imagine not," said Aela. "Since when did we have a castle?!"

"Look, up there!" Ria pointed above the three-storey-high towers with pointy yellow rooves and Dwemer-style bronze panels. "Ysgrammor's boat. Is it... bigger?"

The upside-down longship was perched between the six towers. Alongside the old shields, countless banners were nailed to her hull alongside snowberry wreaths, rivers of ivy, and two mammoth skulls hung with gold jewellery.

"A bit bigger," Aela said in a small voice. "What have they done to the old girl?! She's a warship, not some jarl's personal carriage!"

"There's a point. I don't want to think about how much tax we'll have to pay on a whole castle," Farkas said grimly. "Come on, they're waiting for us."

Putting a hand on Ria's shoulder, and keeping a respectable distance away from Aela, Farkas ushered them to the front of the great castle.

"I don't think anyone needs to hear me explain what's going on," speeched Kodlak, standing between the two hooded statues that now guarded the doors of Jorrvaskr. "We've all seen by now how objects are appearing and buildings are growing fancier, and it's happening throughout the city," he explained what was going on despite suggesting that he wouldn't.

A sizeable crowd had gathered in front of Jorrvaskr, sitting on brand-new picnic benches between the pine trees, flower beds and gold-plated statues of Dibella. Most of the Companions were there, plus Carlotta and her daughter, who seemed to be lost.

"Has the jarl said anything about all this?" asked Athis.

"No, nothing. Although he probably has his own problems, considering..." Kodlak gestured up at Dragonsreach, looming over the city below, creaking under the weight of the dragon skeletons tied to its three cloud-piercing towers.

Ria bit her lip. "Gee... That's just asking to fall down next time it's windy."

"I did hear a rumour," Njada piped up from her perch on a giant Dibella statue's slender metal shoulders. "The guards have bunk beds now, and all sorts of fancy bullshit like curtains, rugs and ivy growing inside the barracks. Most of them can't get out."

"Oh, really? Why not?" asked Kodlak.

"They keep getting tangled up in the bunk beds," explained Njada.

"That feels rather like a bad joke, but to be fair, so does everything that's happened today." Kodlak cleared his throat. "Anyway, with this chaos now chaosing merrily about the place, we Companions ought to look out for everyone. I'd advise against going in any buildings right now, but if you must, wear a helmet."

"I do wonder," said Aela, "what sort of danger people are going to be in. Getting flung into the air by pot plants, houses changing shape around them...?"

"It could be anything," Ria said. "We should go and patrol the city."

"'We' should go, should we?" Aela smirked. "Do you think you're my plucky young sidekick now, Ria? One fall from a misplaced tree, and all of a sudden you come packaged with me as a free gift?"

"N-no! Well, I am plucky!" huffed Ria. "And I thought we were working quite well together-"

"It's fine," Aela cut in. "No reason for you NOT to come with me, is there? All right, let's go!"

Their feet clomping on stone tiles, Aela and Ria passed under a hefty stone gate which had definitely not been there yesterday. They were red in the face and determinedly Not Mentioning the giggly nymphs and spriggans who had definitely not been frolicking around the Gildergreen yesterday.

The Wind District, true to its name, was blowing a cool breeze, but the heady scents of cherry blossoms, deathbells, grilled pork and onion relish were brand new.

"Look at those flowers!" breathed Ria, pointing at the grey brick castle which might once have been the Battle-Born house. Piles of brightly-coloured flowers were practically pouring out of the thin grass verges around its smooth buttresses.

"Look at that crowd," said Aela, rather more reservedly. It seemed like half the city was out in the road, more than twenty people packed between ornate metal lantern posts, trees sprouting out of the cobblestones, gilded wooden carriages and a hot dog stand being operated by a Khajiiti man in yellow robes. "Come on. We need to-"

Aela froze. All of a sudden, she couldn't move, nor even speak. She stood there, trembling, with her foot halfway through a forwards step.

"Wh-what the fu-" Aela jerked forwards, then froze again.

"Aela! I'm st-" Ria squeaked for a moment, then she was still, her mouth half-open as if to speak. Only her eyes still moved, darting around in terror.

A silent growl rose up in Aela's throat. She strained her muscles against the air that had turned to clay, sweat beading on her forehead, until as quickly as it had set on the curse was broken.

"-G-guhh!" Aela stumbled forwards, throwing down her arms to meet the road before it met her nose again. "Shor's bones! What WAS that?!"

"Something... grabbed us!" Ria bit her lip. The crowd had clearly felt it too; some of them were on the floor, and all were in shock.

"What happened?! What happened?!"

"Quicksand! No, a quick road made of quick cobblestones!"

"Lucia?! Has anyone seen Lucia?!"

"It's the end of the world!"

"No, Bessie, calm down! You're safe now."

"Aaaaahaahaaaoow, Shor's BONES, my poor, innocent little FOOT!"

Ria could see Olfina next to her family's cow, trying to comfort the great woolly beast. Vignar was there too, trying to convince the great woolly beast to stop standing on his foot.

The ground shook for a moment. Gasps and screams rose from the crowd and all eyes turned to the Gray-Mane house, pushing up out of the ground until it was five storeys tall. Its wooden walls shone for a moment and became stone walls, dark grey and rugged like Solitude's stonework.

"Did you see...?" Aela ran forwards. "Is everyone all right?! How long has this been happening?!"

"Ah... About time some of you lot showed up. It started this morning," Vignar said through gritted teeth, swaying gently on one leg. "I woke up to find my bed had grown curtains, and then..."

"Bessie, no!" wailed Olfina, chasing after the cow as she bolted with a fearful moo through the crowd.

"...It's been the Shivering Isles, pretty much. Mind that step!" Vignar winced at the sight of Olfina tripping over a step and landing face-first in Bessie's brown fur. "Eh, she's fine."

Aela nodded slowly.

"This is getting bad," Ria stated the obvious. "How did we get stuck like that? There isn't a paralysis spell in the world that works on a whole city!"

"You're thinking too small. Magic isn't just spells that take a second or two to cast, it can be dozens of wizards working together to turn a mountain upside-down, raise an army of the undead or grow an entire forest in a matter of hours. Or maybe it's one of the gods having a joke at our expense," suggested Aela.

"Mmh..." Ria nodded slowly. "But which one?"

"I wouldn't dream of pointing the finger at anybody," Olfrid piped up in a carrying voice. "But it seems to me that the Gray-Manes have done rather well out of the whole situation! Look at their quaint little house, now a tower that nearly rivals Dragonsreach!"

Ria glared at him. "Your house turned into Castle Dawnguard!"

"Oh, really?!" Vignar scoffed, looking around in disbelief as though he expected the crowd to laugh with him. "Is it not your little farmhouse outside the walls, Olfrid, that has turned into a medium-sized Wrothgarian train station, complete with horse-pulled turntable and hangars for six locomotives?!"

Ria glared at him. "Your house turned into a grandfather clock with a two-cow garage! I don't think you're one to t- talk-"

The air closed in on Ria, gripping her with a heavy, juddering force. Her eyes darted towards Aela, but without turning her neck she could only see a strong hand suspended in midair.

Ria strained against the invisible force, thinking something along the lines of "Hnnnnnghh-!" even though she couldn't say it out loud. For five slow heartbeats it held her, then her arm jerked forwards and a strangled shout escaped her lips.

Jerking through the air in short bursts of freedom, Ria grabbed Aela's arm. "Aela, we-- have to-- get out-- of this!" she cried.

"Oh, you think-- I haven't-- noticed?!" Aela snarled.

"Come on! A house... Any house!" suggested Ria.

"No! Look at-- the-- the floor! Look DOWN!"

Ria felt a warm hand on the back of her head, then she was shoved onto her knees. Her instincts told her to lash out with an elbow, but Aela was crounching down beside her, nearly pressing her nose into the road.

The air loosened its grip on Ria. "What... What happened?!" she gasped, breathing freely with only the odd catch in her lungs.

"I've heard of this," Aela said gravely. "Keep your head down! It sounds absurd, but some of the wizards say that our world - every kingdom and every grain of sand - is a dream. The dream of an uncountably powerful being, somewhere far beyond our reach."

"That sounds ludicrous!"

"It doesn't normally mean anything for us, but when the dream gets too complicated, the dreamer can't picture it all at once. She has to slow down and dream one piece of the world at a time. For us, that means everything slows down and gets stuck."

"The city," Ria said in a small voice. "All those big houses and decorations! They're too much for her to picture, aren't they? But since we're looking at the ground..."

"It's easier. Less work for her to dream through our eyes," said Aela. She attempted to raise her voice without looking up, which wasn't easy.

"Everyone! Listen to me!" Aela shouted a bit hoarsely. "Look down at the ground and it'll make the choppiness go away!"

"Wha-?"

"The ground?"

"Look at?"

"That war paint is doing you no favours, lady."

"Shut up, Sinmir!"

With confusion and grumbling, the crowd got their eyes pointing downwards. It was a silly sight, thirty people or so all staring at their feet, some bent double and a few lying flat on the cobblestones. And for a few seconds, all was quiet.

"Shh, Bessie, don't panic," whispered Olfina. "N-no, don't do that in the middle of the road! Aaugh, yuck..."

There was a deep rumbling sound, and while a few glares were cast at Bessie, the quaking ground demonstrated that it mostly wasn't her fault.

"More shifting architecture? Surely it's taken the whole city by now!" growled Aela.

"I think it came from our house, if... if 'house' is still the right word," said Amren, giving a worried look to a northern Hammerfellese mansion with three onion-tipped towers and a garden of fiery aspen trees. He gasped. "Oblivion! Isn't Braith still in there?!"

"We told her to hide if anything..." Saffir bit her lip. "But she never listens to what we say. She'll try and fight it all on her own!"

"FIght what, exact-? Nope, doesn't matter. I have to get her out!"

"Hey, wait a minute there, Amren!" Saffir grabbed Amren's arm. "If Braith gets crushed or eaten by something, yes, we'll be heartbroken. But if you get eaten, we won't have any money coming in!"

Amren's jaw hung open for a moment. Slowly and laboriously, over the course of a few painful seconds, he bent over and put his head in his hands. "Saffir, are you serious? Are you quite serious? What in the names of all the gods is WRONG with you?!" he screamed.

"Oh, don't be like that! I'd miss her a little bit," Saffir pouted. "But think about it. You have a job and Braith doesn't, right? Think about it."

A ripple of angry murmuring passed over the crowd. Some were glaring with violent intent at Saffir, heedless of the risk if their gazes weren't fixed firmly on the floor.

Ria nudged Aela. "What IS wrong with her?" she whispered.

"I don't know. Some people..."

"We should do something," Ria said. "We're the Companions! Surely this is-"

"I'll go."

All eyes turned to the unassuming man in a brown tabard.

"Sigurd?" Ria blinked. "But you aren't-"

"I know what you're going to say," Sigurd cut in. "I'm not a great warrior like you, I just work for Belethor at the general goods store. That may be so, but I refuse to sit around while a child could be in danger!" He readied his wood-chopping axe. "Who rides with me?!"

"Rides?! Sigurd, you don't have a horse!" Belethor protested from somewhere in the crowd.

"It was an... An expression." Sigurd went red. "Ria, Ms The Huntress, do I have your allegiance? Will you lift your blades alongside mine?"

"Absolutely!" declared Ria.

"I mean," said Aela, "if that's what we're doing now."

"Um- Wait a minute!" Belethor ran forwards. "Sigurd... This all seems pretty nuts, but if you're really going in there, you're a braver man than I. I want you to have this."

Belethor rummaged in his pockets for a moment and pulled out a dagger wrapped in red cloth. "It's silver," he declared, pressing the weapon into Sigurd's hands. "It'll do you some good if there are ghosts in there. I want it back in one piece, mind you... Silver weapons aren't cheap up here."

"Of-of course! Thank you, and..." Sigurd swallowed. "Don't worry. I'll be careful, there won't be a scratch on it."

Aela rolled her eyes. "Are you going to kiss, or can we get going?"

The door creaked open. For a few seconds the house seemed bathed in darkness, perhaps with some mist and a pertinent historical quote floating around, then Aela emerged into a sumptuous hallway. She stepped without sound onto a plush red carpet.

"Wow...!" Following Aela into the hallway, Ria couldn't help but stare. At the golden filigree on the red and cream-coloured wallpaper, at the candles hung in brass sconces from the walls, at the curly plasterwork on the ceiling, at the fancy geometric designs on the carpet, she had her work cut out for staring.

"This is very fancy," whispered Sigurd. Were his shoes even clean enough to walk on that gorgeous carpet? He lingered for a few seconds on the doormat.

"Welcome," a pleasant female voice spoke from nowhere, "to your late third-era royal Hegathese mansion."

Sigurd jumped. "Who are you?!"

"Steady, Sigurd..." Aela's eyes darted up and down the hallway, looking for enemies.

"Um, hello? Ma'am?" Ria cupped her hands over her mouth. "We're looking for Braith! She's a medium-sized girl in a red dress, usually scowling or laughing mischievously! Smells like trouble! It's an uncanny smell for an eleven-year-old, but there's really no mistaking it!"

"Master Braith is inside," said the voice.

"That's good to know, but who are you?" insisted Sigurd. "Are you... Are you a Divine? Kynareth, is that you?!"

"Not possible. She sounds much too gentle for Kynareth," said Aela. "It could be Azura, Dibella, Mara, Stendarr or one of them, but-"

"Stendarr's a man!" Sigurd said incredulously.

Aela scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure she is."

"Besides, Dibella has quite a deep voice, nothing like this disembodied voice!" said Ria. "I mean, so I've heard."

"I can see that you are new to your late third-era royal Hegathese mansion." The voice filled the warm air in the hallway, speaking as though she was everywhere and nowhere at once. "Would you like some mood music?"

"Oh, um, music? Do you know Ragnar the Red?" Sigurd asked hopefully.

Aela turned to stare at Sigurd, who could only offer an apologetic shrug as the faint sound of a lute being played materialised in their ears.

"Now playing: Ragnar the Red, by Karita, the finest bard in all of Dawnstar." The voice gave way to the inimitable tones of Karita as she launched into her song. "O, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from old Roriksteeeaaaad..."

Ria smiled uncertainly. "I suppose a little music isn't going to hurt us."

Aela sighed. "Come on." She started along the hallway with Ria and Sigurd close behind. There were paintings on the walls, of well-dressed nobles and vistas far from Skyrim, and the carpet was soft but solid underfoot.

"...And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he had made..."

Ria brushed against a brass shoe rack and gasped at the sight. It was laden with burnished leather shoes, embroidered fur boots and gold-filigreed plimsoles. "Have you ever seen such craftsmanship?"

"Never. Those look... Well, rubbish for the snow. Probably from your end," said Aela, meaning the wimpy part of Cyrodiil. "And look! Over here." She swept around to the cupboard on the opposite wall and tapped on a shiny glass bottle. "There's a BOAT in this thing!"

"But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who saaaiiid..."

"By the gods, look at this!" Sigurd had gone ahead, and was peering through an ornate mahogany doorframe into a dimly-lit room. "Have you seen this furniture?! It's all red...! And purple! Come on, this is incredible!"

"Just a minute!" Ria grabbed one of the snow boots. "I think I'll have- Hey, what gives?!" She tugged sharply on the boot, but it wouldn't leave the comfort of the shoe rack. "Unbelievable. They've all been nailed down!"

"My deepest condolences to your shoe box, Ria." Aela made no mention of how her heart had broken when she tried to lift the ship-in-a-bottle and discovered it was glued to the cupboard. "Come on, we need to find Braith. The poor thing's probably getting into the mead barrel and swinging on the fancy curtains, pretending she's a valkyrie."

"...now I THINK it's high time that you LIE down and bleed!"

They filed into Sigurd's furniture room, where they spent a few seconds stroking the warm velvet cushions and poking the smooth, creaky leather chairs. Sigurd wondered briefly how much wood he'd have to chop to fill the fireplace.

"...And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no moooooaaargh..."

"Mara save me!" groaned Sigurd, abandoning the ornate brass fender to cover his ears. "Was her mother a set of bagpipes?!"

Ria's jaw dropped. "Sigurd... She's dead!"

"Er, what?" said Sigurd.

"...when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

"It was Karita's father who took it worst," said Aela. "You haven't been to Dawnstar, have you? Well, he owns the Windpeak Inn. He hasn't been the same since..." Aela sighed. "Well, you weren't to know. Poor Thildred, all they found of her in the end were a foot and both elbows."

"It was sabre cats, wasn't it?" Ria said in a small voice. "The big white ones, stronger and swifter than a blizzard."

"I think so. Have you ever run into Dro'marash or Kharjo?" asked Aela. "Their caravan was in Dawnstar when it happened. They might know more, but I wouldn't press them for answers. Especially about that senche lion."

"I won't." Sigurd shuddered. "Dawnstar sounds rough!"

"...And in light of that, I really don't care if Karita has a sweet, mellifluous, ladylike voice or not. What I'm drawn to is the passion, the energy she pours into her art."

The conversation had been wandering as aimlessly its three speakers, from subject to subject and from room to room, poking at the minutiae of politics and philosophy and checking if all the fancy ornaments on top of tables and cupboards were stuck there. Now, stomping up a long flight of stairs, Ria was leading a spirited discussion about art.

"Passion! That's what's most important," she continued. "Art has to come from the heart! It isn't just about the singing, it's... it's inside you, and that's where it needs to be so it can come out of you! Karita doesn't hold anything back, which means, even if her songs don't sound perfect, they're REAL."

"I hear what you're saying," said Sigurd, scratching his chin. "But does she need to sound so... growly? It makes it rather hard on the ears."

"A reasonable point," said Aela. "But have you considered that sounding nice isn't the only reason for songs? If 'nice' was all artists ever aimed for, songs, paintings and books would reflect only a small portion of the human spirit. No, we need much more, we need works that shine a light on our darker, more... animalistic sides."

Warm sunlight shone in at the top of the stairs. Ria found herself blinking as she stepped up into the corridor, then through the first door on the right.

"What's next for us, then? More fancy furniture that does nothing?" said Aela, peering past her.

The room was lit by a crystal chandelier, casting pale gold patterns on the floorboards. At the far wall stood two display cases, a coffee table upon an embroidered red carpet before them, and below the windows on either side were...

Aela stiffened. Mannequins. Ugly, brown, terrifying mannequins.

"Look at those!" breathed Ria, looking at the mannequins. There were eight of them, all naked. "Aren't they creepy? Just standing around like that?"

"Don't be a milk-drinker! They're just cloth!" Aela said a bit too loudly. "Normal cloth that won't under any circumstances start moving and try to eat you."

Ria gave her a questioning look. "I never said they were going to-"

As one, the mannequins lurched forwards, their wooden arms reaching stiffly towards our heroes.

"Eeyaaaaagh!" In a flash, Aela ripped her dagger from its sheath. "Stay- stay back, you fiends!"

"They're mannequins! Just mannequins! I don't understand, surely-" Sigurd stumbled back when a mannequin made a grab for him.

"Don't just stand there!" With a savage cry- a good one this time, she hoped- Aela swung at the mannequin, burying her dagger up to the hilt in its neck. She tore the blade free, scattering bits of straw on the wind.

Ria saw a mannequin coming at her from the right. She drew her sword and thrust it into the air. "For the honour of Jorrvaskr!" she yelled, and brought the blade down hard on the mannequin's sack head.

The mannequin beat its arms against Ria's shield, but her feet found purchase on the floor and she shoved it back among its comrades. The mannequins shared a worried look, then one pounced on her.

Two mannequins were coming for Aela. She took a low stance with one hand on the floor, her heart pounding as the walking armour display furniture stalked closer. Just the right distance from her, then-

"Hraaaagh!" Aela sprang up and slashed through a mannequin's throat. Its head fell to its chest, dangling by a scrap of sack cloth, as it staggered back from her onslaught.

Aela let her left shoulder swing forwards as she ploughed into the other mannequin, then she grabbed its shoulder, sinking her nails into its soft cloth, and stabbed it where its heart might as well have been.

"Stay away! Stay away!" Sigurd swung wildly with his axe, enough to dissuade any mannequins from coming near him. "What are you playing at?! You're-! You're bloody FURNITURE!"

So saying, he lunged forwards buried his axe in a mannequin's shoulder. The dummy reeled back, but its friend pushed past it and grabbed Sigurd around the waist.

"G-get off!" The mannequin shoved Sigurd roughly against the wall and tried awkwardly to headbutt his chest. "Ow! Ooh! Come on, stop it!"

"Sigurd! Hold on!" Two mannequins were on Ria, trying to grab past her shield and snatch at her armour. She kicked one mannequin in the knee, bringing it down, but the other wrapped its scratchy cloth mittens around her sword arm.

"No, you... don't!" Gritting her teeth, Ria pushed against the mannequin with all her strength. "Nnngh... Let GO OF ME!" The mannequin's arms trembled, then its strength gave out, and her sword clove its head from its torso.

Sigurd was being strangled now, while a second mannequin whapped him with a leather boot. "Oh, gods! Help! Help!" he spluttered.

"I've got you!" Aela pounced on the strangling mannequin, flattening Sigurd beneath the combined weight of herself and the strangling mannequin. She jabbed her dagger in and out of the mannequin's head until it stopped moving.

"C-can't breathe..." whimpered Sigurd. "Regret every... prior... decision!"

Ria plunged her sword through the mannequin with the boot, pinning it to the floor. She struggled for a second to pull her sword out of the floor, then chopped an arm off.

"Sigurd! Are you all right?!" Aela scrambled to her feet, picked up the dead mannequin and threw it among the display cases. She turned back and offered Sigurd a hand.

"I'm alive! That's... That's a positive, right?" Sigurd laughed, looking perhaps a little bit unhinged. He took the hand, then froze. "Duck, Aela!"

Aela ducked. Sigurd's axe sailed over her shoulder and chopped a mannequin's head off.

"...Good throw," Aela said matter-of-factly. "We aren't out of the woods yet, though."

Although a few of mannequins lay dead at their feet, the rest of them were rallying, rising on torn and scratched legs and brandishing what arms they still had attached. One punched through the glass of a display case and pulled out a shiny Dwemer sword, heedless of the shards embedded in its cloth arm. Another grabbed a hat stand.

Ria stepped in front of Sigurd with her shield raised. "How are we getting out, then? Of the, er, woods."

"Cutting off the heads works. So does stabbing the heads to pieces," said Aela, staring down the mannequins. "But these monstrosities are made of fabric and straw, aren't they? Let's try using fire."

Sigurd gasped. "Of course!" So saying, he whipped a burning torch out of his pocket.

"Good. You came prepared," said Aela. "I have a dozen fire arrows. Ria?"

Ria slid her shield up her forearm and conjured a bright flame from her palm.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" Aela smiled, pulling a dark red arrow from her quiver. "When you're ready!"

The mannequins charged. The short one was first into the fray, swinging its hat stand at Ria. She swung her shield into the tall headgear holder, and in a clash of metal upon wood batted it aside. She swiped at the mannequin and threw forth a gout of flames, searing the creature's fabric skin.

The other mannequins edged away from their comrade as it patted desperately at the spreading flames. Two of them came for Sigurd. He swallowed, slid Belethor's silver dagger from its cloth inside his trousers and ran at them with a scream.

The dagger pierced a mannequin's heart, and there it stayed while Sigurd dodged a vengeful kick. Sigurd swung his torch, catching the second mannequin on the head. It ran away in a blind panic.

Sigurd laughed in a mixture of triumph and terror. Gripping his torch with both hands, he advanced on the second mannequin.

An almost headless mannequin came swinging at Aela, who ducked between its punches and kicked it in the stomach. She beat on its head with her bow, whapping it hard and fast until, lowering its head beneath the onslaught, it pounced on her.

Aela was thrown onto the floor, but the jarring impact couldn't stop her from smiling as she leaned forwards and bit down on the mannequin's head. She leaned back and swung her head until the mannequin's noggin tore loose from what little cloth still held it in place.

"Ptoo!" Aela released the head and watched it tumble across the floor. "You're making this too easy for me."

"Speak for yourself!" Ria was locked in combat with the last mannequin, her sword clashing against its stolen blade. The mannequin swung wildly with great force, keeping her shield arm too busy to throw fire.

"Ria! Heads up! Or, um, down! Your choice!" Sigurd threw his torch.

The sword-wielding mannequin looked up, then swished its sword into the air, catching the head of the torch. It fell, sputtering a little, into the mannequin's free hand.

"You-you just made him stronger!" snapped Ria.

Sigurd cringed. "Sorry, sorry! Argh, where's my axe, where's that dagger...?"

The mannequin jabbed Sigurd's torch at Ria. She danced back, swinging her shield across her body to block the flames, then screamed as its sword found its way into her armour.

"You get OFF her!" roared Aela, leaping clean over Ria's head. She landed boots-first on the mannequin, kicking the torch from its hands, and stabbed her fire arrow into its head.

The mannequin burst into flames while Aela jumped off its arm, spun through the air and landed awesomely with one hand on the floor. "Ria, are you hurt?!" she demanded.

"That was amazing!" Ria threw her arms around Aela and hugged her tightly.

"All right, calm down." After enduring it for a couple of seconds, Aela shoved Ria away. "Not too badly hurt, then?"

"Oh, no, it was just a little stab!" Ria winced and tried to make it look like an audacious grin.

Aela sighed fondly as her heart rate came down to something more relaxed. Mannequins. She'd always known there was something off about those ugly stuffed draugr, with their jerky wooden limbs and their heads like a longship's most personal sack.

"I'd say it was worth it, though..." Ria bent down carefully and picked up the golden bronze sword. "A free sword! Who could say no?"

"Are you sure that isn't Amren's?"

"...Well." Ria smiled cheekily. "I don't think he's going to miss any of this fancy stuff."

Sigurd was also gathering up his things. He pulled the dagger from the smouldering mannequin's chest and breathed a sigh of relief. "Not a scratch on it! I won't lie, I was a bit worried."

"Oh, your boss's dagger's still in one piece! Thank Stendarr it didn't get stabbed." There was no malice in Ria's voice, just a hefty pile of sarcasm.

"Um... Sorry about that." Sigurd laughed nervously. "I suppose I'm not very good at this. Not like you."

Ria looked ashamed. "Oh, well-"

"That goes without saying," Aela said with a touch of solemnity. "Fighting is good exercise and excellent fun, as we all know, but it's also a serious business. Nobody can avoid making mistakes in the heat of the moment, but every mistake is a chance for someone or something to kill you."

Sigurd shuddered.

"But that's why we have to practice, Sigurd. You might not be a natural, but if you wanted to be a warrior, two or maybe three years of training and you'll be able to slay a mannequin blindfolded!" Ria gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Come on, we need to keep moving."

Aela led the way, keeping a firm hand on the banister as she climbed. She wasn't quite ready to trust a staircase that went around in circles, but it didn't shift or even creak under three pairs of winding feet.

They emerged onto a carpeted balcony with tall, shiny wooden railings. A familiar pile of dead mannequins lay in the display room below. Aela ignored them and took the first door on the left, stepping into a bright, sumptuous bedroom.

"Oh, wow, this is gorgeous!" Peering over Aela's shoulder, Ria had to squint into the pale creamy light pouring through a minotaur-sized window. It shone onto a king-sized bed, draped in a thick pink quilt and piled high with pillows.

"I've never seen such luxury before," breathed Sigurd. "I know it probably sounds selfish, but if I end up getting a fancy new bed out of all this business..."

"Don't get too excited. The way things have been going, your wonderful new bed might just get up and try to eat you," Aela said with a wry smile. "Try and focus on finding Braith."

There was a sharp thud from the gold-etched wardrobe. "Ow! She's in here! Here's Braith! I mean, I'm in here, because I'm Braith!"

Sigurd and Ria gasped in unison. Aela refused to gasp because she was cool, but she joined them in pounding across the floor and skidding to a halt by the wardrobe.

"Braith! Is that you in there?!" cried Ria, knocking on the door.

"Well, of course it's me!" snapped Braith, her strident voice muffled by the wardrobe. "I... I got stuck in here when the trumpet turned the defence systems on. She won't let me out!"

"Trumpet?" said Aela, giving Sigurd a funny look.

"She?" said Sigurd, giving Ria a strange look.

"Defence systems?" said Ria, giving Aela a queer look.

"Now that THAT'S all worked out," Braith huffed, "can someone please kick the door down and get me out of here?!"

Aela nodded even though Braith couldn't see her. "Stand back," she said. "No, stay behind the right door... The right door from your perspective, which is the left door from my perspective out here. Does that make sense?"

"No," mumbled Braith. The sounds of a scuffle came from inside the wardrobe as she shifted right, which was left, through a thicket of fancy clothes.

Ria and Sigurd stood back and watched Aela throw an arrow-fast kick at the door. Her foot struck with a sound that echoed through the room, but the varnished pine didn't so much as crack.

With a growl, Aela drew back and launched another kick, swinging her mighty leg high across the air. Her boot smashed into the door, and for a split second the wood bent inwards, only for Aela to bounce back onto the carpet.

"Oh... Oh, no, are you all right?!" Ria tried not to giggle at Aela, sprawled out and glaring daggers at the ceiling. She bent over and offered her a hand.

"I could probably chop it open," Sigurd offered, wavering between offering Aela a second choice of hand or keeping his distance. "It's, er, it's made of wood, so..."

"Made of wood, by Kynareth! I can work with that." Aela pulled herself up on Ria and advanced on the wardrobe, snatching Sigurd's axe from his startled hands as she stomped past.

Aela swung the axe over her shoulder and whipped it down at the door. The head bounced off the mahogany with a loud crack, wearing a sizeable dent but leaving the wood completely unscathed.

Aela's shoulders sagged. "This is an Oblivion of a door," she said bitterly. "But here's a thought! Ria, give me that sword."

Ria jumped a little. "A-all right! Be careful with it," she said, passing the sword to Aela.

"It's only an orange sword, you know. The one Eorlund made for you is probably sharper," said Aela, taking the Dwemer blade.

With both hands tight around the hilt, Aela lined the sword up for a stab, then slid it into the gap between the wardrobe's doors. Aela widened her stance and, hoping she remembered where Braith was, tried to lever the doors open.

Aela wrestled with the sword, but caught between the wardrobe's doors it could barely move. She put her weight behind the sword and pushed as hard as she could, groaning with effort, making the doors tremble and creak.

"Unbelievable..." Aela wiped her forehead and beckoned to the others. "Get in here. It can't possibly stand up to the three of us."

"All right!" Ria obediently manoeuvred herself in beside Aela. Her face reddened a little as their fingers wrapped together around the hilt. Sharing a weapon with Aela the Huntress... She'd dreamed of such a day.

"All of us on one sword?" Sigurd couldn't see much standing room between Ria and Aela, nor any hand room on the sword. He squeezed in on Aela's other side and, wrapped his hands around Ria's hands around Aela's hands, and hoped for the best.

"Is everyone comfortable?" asked Aela, and they both nodded. "All right, then. Push!"

They wrestled with the sword for a moment, getting nowhere.

"To my left. That means you pull, Sigurd!" snapped Aela.

"R-right!" Sigurd started pulling.

"No, left!" Ria corrected him.

The wardrobe trembled and creaked as the warriors and the shop boy heaved on Ria's new sword.

"Urrgh... What kind of wood is this?! It feels like we're fighting a Wardrobe Death Overlord!" panted Aela. "Turn around, Ria. We need to give it a proper push-- No, Sigurd, you're still pulling. Just-just stand right there and do what seems natural!"

Aela and Ria rearranged themselves to shove the sword, leaving a confused Sigurd opposite them to pull.

"All right. This time, for sure." Aela tightened her fingers around the sword. "For Braith. For Whiterun. For justice and glory eternal! Let's shatter this wardrobe! PUSH!"

They pushed, with muscles trembling and boots skidding across the carpet. Sigurd pushed back for a moment, realised his mistake and sheepishly started pulling. The wardrobe creaked and cracked as its doors were rent like glaciers.

"Hnnnnnghh--! I-it's breaking! We're... doing it!" Ria cried out through gritted teeth, glad she'd got to do her straining noise after all. "J-just a little more..."

The creaking of the wardrobe almost sounded like a scream of pain. Its doors trembled until with one final crack they flew open, exploding in splinters and shards of varnish.

With the force opposing him suddenly gone, Sigurd dropped with a heavy thud onto the floor. Aela fell helplessly on Sigurd's sprawled-out legs, the Dwemer sword clattering down in front of them. Ria stumbled for a second and fell on Aela in a clatter of armour.

"We... We did it!" laughed Ria, watching the splintered wardrobe doors flap open. "Oww, my shoulder. Braith, are you in there?!"

"I should think NOT!" Braith lunged from her nest among the fancy coats and cartwheeled out of the wardrobe. "Thank the gods you were all here. She just wouldn't let me out!"

Sigurd breathed a sigh of relief and nearly banged his head on the skirting board. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine!" Having finished cartwheeling, Braith stood there, her brown curls bouncing a little. Her smile faded as she peered down at her rescuers. "What are you all doing on the floor?"

"That's our business." Aela struggled to her feet, rolling Ria onto the carpet like a heavy pillow. "Who is this 'she' you speak of, Braith? Is she the same person as the, er, trumpet?"

Braith swallowed. "Yeah. She's on the table. She's been quiet, though, so-"

"Furniture damage detected."

Braith froze. All eyes turned to the wooden table next to the bed, where an ornate bronze trumpet curved out into the air above a shiny black disc, made of something like chaurus chitin.

"Lord Amren and Lady Saffir's late third-era royal Hegathese mansion is under attack." The trumpet spoke in the same calm tones as the unseen woman who had offered them music. "The wardrobe has been compromised. Master Braith, please hide under the bed until the danger has been dealt with."

"N-no way! I'm not going near furniture ever again!" Braith backed away, shaking her head.

"It's all right," said Aela, putting her hands on Braith's shoulders. She glared at the trumpet. "Look here, you overgrown saxophone! We aren't bandits, we just came in here to find Braith! You aren't in any danger. We'll be on our way and-"

"You will not succeed, kidnappers," said the trumpet. "Defence systems are compromised. Activating the mannequeen."

"M-mannequeen?" Aela bit her lip. "What, is that a mannequin with a crown?! I'm not afraid of crowns!"

"Let's go," said Ria urgently. "We've got Braith. We know the way out. Sigurd, pick up my new sword-"

The wall on the other side of the bed broke apart in an explosion of splintered wood. There, lowering its wooden foot, was a mannequin as tall as a giant and as broad-shouldered as a werebear. It wore a steel cuirass and skirt-plates with iron gauntlets and a spiked silver circlet, because why wouldn't it?

"Y-yeee-!" Aela grabbed Braith and pulled her close, lifting her feet off the floor. "D-don't be scared... Don't be scared, Braith! I've got you!"

"Aaaugh! Kynareth's leg hair, get OFF me, lady!" Braith gasped with what little air her lungs could squeeze past Aela's arms.

The mannequeen bent down and grabbed the comfy bed. She threw it with barely a hint of effort into the wall, where it smashed through the doorframe and plummeted over the balcony.

"What do we do?" gulped Sigurd, gripping his axe with white knuckles.

"We have to make a stand." Ria unsheathed her old skyforged steel sword. "Braith, run for it! Aela, put Braith down so she can run for it!"

"Make a stand how, exactly?!" demanded Aela.

"You have fire arrows!" snapped Ria.

Aela blinked. "Well, yes." A vicious smile spread across her face. "And a big, flammable target too close to miss! Hold her still, you two!"

"Us-us two?!" Sigurd was far from enthused, but there was no time to complain about the arrangement. The mannequeen was storming towards them, her gauntletted fists raised high to attack.

Ria raised her shield and charged, ploughing the metal disc into the mannequeen's punch. "Ngaaah!" The impact jarred Ria's arm, but in a second she was swiping at the mannequeen's exposed elbow.

A huge metal boot met Ria's sword in a clash of steel, kicking the blade aside. Ria let her arm spin with the blade and took a swipe at the mannequeen, but her sword glanced off her armour.

Sigurd ran forwards, his weapon raised and a decent beginner's war cry on his lips. He swung wildly at the mannequeen, burying the head of his axe in her wooden thigh.

"Ha! Not so invincible after all!" Sigurd laughed, then he screamed when he saw those massive hands reaching down for him. "Eek! N-no, don'!"

Sigurd ducked. Cold metal fingers closed around where his head had just been. He swung up at the mannequeen, drawing sparks off her gauntlets, then a kick sent pain blooming through his arm and his axe skittering across the floor.

The mannequeen's foot hung over Sigurd, poised to flatten him like a sweetroll. A bright bolt of orange streaked across the room and thwacked into her blank face before it could fall.

The mannequeen's body tensed up. She tried to pat out the flames spreading over her sack head, then Aela was upon her, flashing across the room as if she herself was an arrow.

"Burn, you monstrosity!" Aela plunged her dagger into the mannequeen's straw-filled belly and drew a deep, ragged cut across her torso.

"Nice one, Aela!" Ria clapped her hands.

"She wasn't all that bad," Aela scoffed, smiling through the sweat upon her face. "I will admit, mannequins have always unnerved me a bit. But their weakness to fire really makes them-"

With a sudden lurch, the mannequeen stomped forwards. Aela's confession died in her throat, and a moment later a kick sent her flying. She fell where the bed had been, throwing up a thick cloud of dust, and lay there unmoving.

"Aela! Aaaaargh!" Ria took a mighty swing at the mannequeen. Her sword met impenetrable armour, then a punch from below sent her flying into the ceiling. Ria stuck there, her head wedged in the plaster while her body dangled down into the room below.

The mannequeen turned with lumbering steps to face Sigurd, her head ablaze but her tiara shining. Sigurd felt very, very small all of a sudden.

"Er..." Sigurd swallowed. "You don't need to bother with me, ma'am! I-I'm not a warrior, I'm just a shop boy! Really, killing me would just be wasted effort..."

Sigurd took a step back. The mannequeen took a step forwards.

"Oh, gods! Oh, gods!" Tears welled up in the corners of Sigurd's eyes. "Is-is there anything you want?! Money? Fresh straw? A-a patch sewn on somewhere?!"

The mannequeen drew back a heavy gauntleted fist.

"A... A... AaaaaAAAAARGH!" Sigurd threw himself at her, bringing his axe down on her gauntlet with a clang. The mannequeen's punch went low, letting Sigurd vault over her arm and swipe at her from the side.

"Bully! Murderer! Kidnapper! Monstrosity! I'll kill you!" Sigurd howled with rage as he hacked at the mannequeen, striking deep dents in her armour and ragged holes in her cloth that bled straw onto the carpet.

Watching from the door, Braith whooped with joy. "You're doing it, Sigurd! Kick her canvas butt!"

"Why are YOU still here?! No, never mind! Splash some cold-- yeek! No you don't! S-some cold water on Aela, or- or smelling salts! Aaaargh!"

"Got it." Braith ran over and kicked Aela in the ribs. "Oi, wake up!"

The mannequeen spun around in a frenzy, swiping at Sigurd with both arms. He ducked and wove between her strikes, screaming insults as he struck wildly with his axe. The mannequeen's cloth was ragged, but her movements didn't slow.

Aela, having been shaken out of her coma, was trying to get hold of Ria's scaled boots. "Ow! Stop kicking, you idiot, it's me!" she grunted, siezing the flailing legs as best she could. "This might hurt, so stay still."

"Is-is that you? Aela?" Ria's voice was muffled by the ceiling. "It's bizarre up here. There are five chairs upside-down with a butterfly in a glass jar on top of them, and I can see the sky-- Aiyeeee!"

"Ooof!" Aela caught the combined weight of Ria and her heavy armour as she dropped from the ceiling. She spun Ria around, planted her on her feet and gave her a little pat on the shoulder.

"Thank you," Ria said shakily. "Are you all right?"

"Thanks to Braith..." Aela's brow furrowed. "Were you wearing that steel armour this morning?"

"Er, steel?" Ria peered down at the metal plates over her chest and scratched her head in confusion.

"Forget it. I don't want to know." Aela snatched her bow up from the floor. "Sigurd has truly come through for us, but we'll need a better plan in order to..."

"Die, damn you!" roared Sigurd, hacking wildly at the mannequeen. He might as well have been dancing between her mighty blows, striking at any exposed bit of mannequin flesh he could find. "I'll mount your head on my wall, assuming there's any of it left after the fire!"

The mannequeen lunged at Sigurd, but he cartwheeled out of the way, leaving her to crash down on the floor.

"You can't win this!" roared Sigurd, raising his axe with both hands. "I am Sigurd, son of Harvild! I work for Belethor at the general goods store! And I... chop... wood!"

Sigurd brought his weapon down on the mannequeen's neck. The blade hit her mithril collar and shattered into a hundred iron shards.

"Er... Um..." Sigurd stared in disbelief at his axe, now little more than a piece of wood. "But-but that isn't fair!"

"Truly come through for us, Aela? Truly come through for us?" Ria bit her lip. The mannequeen was rising to her feet while Sigurd scrambled on top of the wardrobe. "She's weak to fire, but your arrow wasn't enough, and she's still going without even a head!"

"What about the balcony back there?" Braith piped up. "We bait her into charging off, then drop the chandelier on her, and she goes up in flames!"

There was a big, dangerous smile on Braith's face. Aela and Ria shared a worried look.

"The chandelier isn't lit," Ria began.

Aela nocked a fire arrow and loosed it into the chandelier. A burning explosion set the iridescent crystals jangling and most of the candles on fire.

Braith nudged Ria. "You were saying?"

"Awesome...!" breathed Ria. "I mean, very well, you've convinced me. Sigurd!"

"Y-yes?" whimpered Sigurd, curled up on top of the quaking wardrobe.

"Send her our way!"

"I'll try..." Sigurd peered down at the mannequeen, who was kicking the wardrobe with her heavy boots until the wood cracked and splintered. "Sh-shoo! Go on, shoo! Away with you!"

Ria thrust out her hand and blew a column of flames into the mannequeen's exposed back. "He said shoo, you big brute! Come on, over here!"

The mannequeen spun around and came storming towards them, her back smouldering.

Sigurd slid down off the wardrobe. "There! And don't come back!" he panted, chasing after her with a stumbling run.

"Onto the balcony! Come on!" Aela grabbed Ria's arm, Ria grabbed Braith's arm, and they poured out through the door.

Her feet thudding on the floor, the mannequeen charged forwards. As Aela dove out of the way, her size 26 steel boot caught the string of her bow.

"Oh, fuck!" Aela gasped as the bow went clattering over the railings.

The mannequeen skidded to a halt, but too late. She smashed through the railings and followed the bow to crash down among the dead mannequins from before.

"The chandelier! I can't drop the chandelier without my... Aargh!" Aela growled in frustration. "How strong is your magic, Ria? Can you make an ice spike?!"

"No..."

"Use this!" Sigurd pressed the hilt of his silver dagger into Aela's hand. "It's sharp. Sharper than a chandelier chain. You can do this, Aela! Just throw it, like a... Well, like a dagger!"

The mannequeen was staggering to her feet, brushing burning embers off her skin. She grabbed the stiff wooden leg of a fallen brother and took aim up at her enemies.

Aela threw Belethor's dagger like a dagger. It flashed through the air and struck the chandelier's chain with a sharp, tinny crack. The chandelier dropped like a stone.

It was as if a bomb had dropped on the mannequeen. Shards of hot glass flew up past the balcony, making the warriors yelp in pain and cover themselves. The mannequeen fell to her knees beneath a crown of fire, flailing and beating helplessly at the flames spreading across her body, until finally she was still.

"She's dead." Ria sagged with relief. "We did it! And your parents' house is only PROBABLY going to burn to the ground now. Yay...!"

"I do have my own dagger, Sigurd." Aela smiled. "But the silver one worked well. I'm glad you came along."

Sigurd blushed. "It was the right thing to do. I couldn't just..."

"Let us have all the fun?" Ria said sweetly.

"Yes. Let's go with that." Sigurd nodded slowly. He sat heavily on the balcony carpet. "You know, before today, the hardest thing I ever had to do was cut down a sickly apple tree on my parents' farm... Now I'm a warrior who tries to fight giant mannequins. And gets his axe broken for the trouble."

Aela and Ria made themselves comfortable, leaning on the interior walls. It was quiet in the mansion now, with no sound except the crackling of the flames below.

Giggling a little, Braith sat down next to Ria. "I've literally never seen a weapon just BREAK before. Did you get your axe in a sale, Sigurd?"

"No..." Sigurd sighed. "A lot of things happened today that haven't happened before, don't you think? I'm sure I can find a new axe somewhere."

"That is a point," Aela piped up. "Did you always have curly hair, Braith?"

Giving Aela a funny look, Braith reached up to feel her hair. "What are you talking abou--" Her fingers met a cloud of soft, loosly-coiled brown springs, hanging like the boughs of a tree from her head. "H-holy cow! That's a thing!"

"Pot plants, mansions and trees from nowhere, mannequins that walk and trumpets that talk..." Aela barked with laughter. "Now Braith's got a new hair style! Why not?!"

"Why not indeed? Whatever made it happen, it's very cute on you!" agreed Ria.

Braith scowled. "And you ruined it. It's coming off."

"W-well, perhaps a ponytail or a bun..."

"Damn it, my bow's probably caught fire down there." Aela stood up and stretched, holding her muscular arms as high as they'd go and arching her back until it made a satisfying click. "Ahh... Right, come on, we need to leave before the whole mansion starts burning."

The mansion wasn't in much of a hurry start burning, but it was definitely smouldering by the time they were traipsing along the hallway, back past the shoe shelf and the unmoveable ship-in-a-bottle.

Aela opened the front door, letting cold, fresh air waft past her and the tired warriors behind. It was a relief from the stuffy, smoky mansion air, but as she stepped out onto the cobbled road, looking up and down the city, her face showed only confusion.

"What's happened out here?" breathed Aela. Hardly anyone was out and about, just Olfina and Vignar trying to convince Bessie to get out of Uthgerd's vegetable patch, and a couple of guards threatening to charge the cow with trespassing.

Our heroes filed out onto the road, the triumph they'd felt over rescuing Braith and/or pulling off the perfect cartwheel drifting giving way to confusion. The Gray-Mane tower was a house again, Dragonsreach a normal castle, and sprouting across the city were hundreds of green, orange and yellow trees.

"The buildings have gone," Sigurd said quietly, peering at the much more normal-looking Battle-Born house. It seemed small now, fringed by pine trees that reached as high as the chimney. "Well, not gone, but they're back to normal."

"But there are so many trees now! It's like the whole city's turned into a forest," breathed Braith. "Do you know who planted them? Was it Nazeem? He's always boasting about his crops, so maybe--"

The sound of two feet running towards them cut through Braith's ponderings. "There you two are! Nerevar's tits, it's awful!" a familiar ginger-haired elf did proclaim.

"Slow down, Athis! What's awful? And since when did Nerevar have- er, you know what, never mind!" said Ria.

"Jorrvaskr!" Athis came to a stop in front of the group, breathing heavily. "I don't know how to explain it. You have to see for yourself..." He stopped, giving Sigurd a questioning look. "All right, what's he doing here? The ankle-biter in the dress I understand, but this fetcher?!"

Sigurd bristled. "I've been branching out lately, as a matter of fact," he declared, crossing his arms. "If you fancy your steel against mine, then wait for me to buy a new axe--"

"Yes, well, moving on!" Aela grabbed Sigurd's left hand, and gestured to Ria to grab the right one. "You'd better show us what happened, Athis. Get it over with."

"Hmph. Right, follow me." Athis turned on his heel and swept back along the road. Aela, Ria, Braith and the disgruntled Sigurd charged off in pursuit.

"I don't know, Athis..." Scowling in confusion, Ria peered at the wide front doors of Jorrvaskr - normal, weathered, brown and beige Jorrvaskr, possibly the only mead hall with a boat for a roof. "I can't see what's wrong here."

Athis sighed. "Look up."

Ria did so, her gaze sweeping past the familiar row of shields that crowned the walls, then up over the faded yellow roof with its dozens of missing planks, and finally to the splintered hole where-

"Oh, my days!" Ria clamped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were as wide as rock warbler eggs. "It's... It's...!"

"What, Ria? What could possibly be... On the..." Aela's voice dropped to a whisper as she stared up over the roof. "Stendarr's beard! How can THAT be-?! It isn't possible!"

"You-you think she still has a beard?" His brow furrowing in confusion, Sigurd turned to look where Aela and Ria were staring, and let out a gasp of awe. "It can't be! Look at them, they're all-! They're glowing!"

"I don't get it!" Braith huffed. "What could possibly be up there that's so very interestiii..." Her voice trailed off when she beheld what was on top of Jorrvaskr. Braith rubbed her eyes in disbelief, but it was still there, thrust through a hole in the ancient roof, its branches reaching out across the sky. A white tree with golden leaves, gleaming like a thousand candles, using Jorrvaskr as a comfortable wooden plant pot.

"Why?" Aela said in a small voice. "Of all the mead halls in all of Skyrim, why ours?! You already gave us the Skyforge, so why this, why now? Kynareth, you ignoramus, where are we going to LIVE?!"

"There are some rooms we can use," Athis said matter-of-factly, "up in the tree. But that tall lady in the armour isn't one for talking, and there was a dreadful stench on her. Honestly, I think we should move in with the Gray-Manes for the time being, if they still have that-- Nope, just a normal house. Well, if a few of us bunk in with the cow..."

Aela collapsed onto the cold, stony courtyard and wept into her hands.