Vaaj-na slid through the penumbra of darkness, felt it glide upon his fur like a warm embrace; it was heavy, thick, comforting. He welcomed it. His eyes flashed into darksight and he scanned the long descent into the tomb, rows of alcoves lining the stairs. His blade hissed gently from its sheath and he krinned at what was to come, thrilled to the challenge. Silence was his gift, and he flowed into the deepest shadows; a shadow among shadows.

And then Alduwae ruined everything by talking.

“You know, these Nord tombs are really fascinating. Just look at the carvings here! You have the more traditional Nord knot-work like what you’d find further south in Bruma, say, but there’s also these rounder, swirling patterns. What a bit of ingenuity! Say, they remind me of carvings I saw in a Dwemer ruin! It was one right here in Skyrim! What could that mean? The Nords would never imitate the Dwarves…would they? That’s ridiculous, I know but…if they someone influenced each other…”

What is ridiculous, thought Vaaj-na, is how loudly you speak.

Kaasha had sent word to them more than a week ago and they had been trudging through the icy wastes of Skryim ever since. It never made sense to him why Taltheron insisted on these out-of-the-way bases of operations. Why not just take over a fort in the Red Ring and populate it with friendly atronachs? That would have been vastly easier that trudging through the dead land of the dead Nords – only to have to travel back. It was foolish, and a terrible waste of time. But even Vaaj-na had to admit, Taltheron’s stratagems got results: their campaign in east Cyrodiil had changed the face of the war. The old elf claimed the Dunmer were up to something important, and needed their support, but Vaaj-na couldn’t say – the Dunmer had largely dropped out of the war long ago.

In any case, crossing the border had been nearly impossible. All the passes were closed off with snow, or guarded by Thalmor; or haunted by werewolves, Ayleid revanants, or the undead remnants of Sulidrel’s army. It had taken them days to find this pass, and it had turned out to be a Nord tomb. Alduwae was certain it would let out on the other side of the mountain, but Vaaj-na was thinking it would be nice to test himself against something other than Thalmor.

“Now let me see if I can remember,” Alduwae mused. “It was the Rourken clan that came west into Skyrim, wasn’t it? Or were they ones who ended up in Hammerfell? You’ve heard that story, right? About the conflict among the Dwarves and the foundation of Resdayn? One of the Dwemer chieftains got so angry he threw his hammer and it…oh, there’s a draugr.”

Only a dead Nord charging at them with a battle-axe could shake Alduwae’s contemplation, Vaaj-na reasoned. And it was five draugr, not one. For a time the only sound was the clashing of blades, cries of battle, and the last groans of undead Nords. To Vaaj-na, it was a gift.

Until Alduwae started back up again. “Funny thing, these draugr. I read a bit of research – years ago, mind you – that they were Nords who had betrayed their people and been cursed with undeath for punishment. A bit extreme, don’t you think? Something to do with the dragon priests, if I remember? But didn’t the Dragonborn kill all the priests, so why are they…”

Vaaj-na was grateful when the draugr overlord rushed them with his greatsword.

*

If Alduwae’s secret mission was to waken every single draugr in every single alcove he had nearly succeeded. Vaaj-na sported a number of minor wounds – all healed by the elf, of course – and was sure he had caught ash-chancre or ataxia or witbane or something; he hadn’t felt this exhausted in years.

“Maybe the Dragonborn didn’t kill all the priests?” the elf was saying. “It’s possible, I suppose; it was centuries ago. Maybe…”

“Maybe you could do this one a favor and shut your mouth before you wake all the dead in this tomb!” Vaaj-na said finally, exasperated. “Maybe we should be quiet, if only to try something different!”

Alduwae looked at him incredulously; Vaaj-na hated that look: it was the look he gave him every time he suggested visiting a brothel, or maybe indulging in a little (okay a lot) extra wine. It was his This-one’s-name-is-Alduwae-and-he-has-no-concept-of-what-a-good-time-means look. “Oh really!” the elf said, and Vaaj-na knew he was in for a lecture.

“Its not like we’re in any real danger down here, I mean, they’re draugr! Watch your head,” he sent a fireball past the Khajiit wiping out a group of dead-and-yet-moving Nords; there was a loud explosion and body parts flew everywhere. “Anything seriously dangerous would have been killed centuries ago! What are the odds that in the 8,000-or-so-year history of Tamriel that no one has ever been through here? Insane! Careful,” another fireball, and this time Vaaj-na felt the ground shake when it hit the wall instead of draugr. Alduwae followed-up with another, and bits of draugr hit the Khajiit in the face. “Honestly I don’t know why you’re being so snippy.”

“Snippy?! SNIPPY?!? We are in a tomb with dead Nords who want to eat our souls and destroy our bodies and you keep ranting about Dwemeri art?! And you expect this one to not be SNIPPY?!?! And what if your fireballs bring down the mountain on our heads! Have you thought of that?! Wait, what are you…?”

Alduwae sent a fireball past his head so close it singed his ears. There was an explosion behind him. “Draugr,” the elf offered.

Vaaj-na screamed.

“Ooh,” Alduwae said walking away. “Look at this engraving. Is that Lorkhan?”

*

Vaaj-na knew they were in trouble when they entered the Hall of Memories. Not least-wise because Alduwae spent the better part of twenty minutes telling him about Nordic totems, animal worship, and thought-conspiracies about Lorkhan. Vaaj-na would have given his soul to Molag Bal for a skooma pipe at that point.

When the elf finally paused to draw a breath (he had been going on about the myth-truth of Lorkahn-is-Arkay-is-Azura) Vaaj-na said, “Maybe we should get going. And maybe we should try to be quiet.”

Clearly, Alduwae was disappointed. “Fine,” he said, though it wasn’t. “Whatever. Be ignorant.”

Vaaj-na slid through the penumbra of darkness, felt it glide upon his fur like a warm embrace; it was heavy, thick, comforting. He welcomed it. His eyes flashed into darksight and he scanned the long hall, lined with rows of alcoves and terminating in a great half-circle wall. He eyed the sarcophagus at the end warily; it certainly held the worst of the draugr but if they were careful…

“Gods!” Alduwae exclaimed loudly. “Is that a Word Wall? That’s actual Draconic…”

The lid of the sarcophagus exploded off, and the dead began to pour from the alcoves.

*

Defeating the Draugr Death-Overlord-of-Infinite-Health, and the dozens of minions that lined its tomb, took – by Vaaj-na’s judgment – the better part of two or three days. Later Alduwae would say it was less than an hour but the Khajiit was firm in his assessment. The draugr just kept coming, and despite the use of what few healing potions they had neither of them escaped unscathed. In fact, had Alduwae not spent most of his magicka healing them, they would have died several times over. Their armor was black with splashes of necrotic draugr-blood and both were on the ground breathing heavily.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Alduwae said, trying to lighten the mood. “Now we can get a good look at that Word Wall! Did you know that it wasn’t until the Fourth Era that scholars outside Skyrim even acknowledged the existence of the Draconic language? Amazing! I mean, the Altmer knew of it millennia ago…”

Vaaj-na did the only thing he could think to do: he kissed Alduwae, right on the lips.

The Altmer’s face was a study in shock.

“Be glad this one did not give you tongue,” Vaaj-na grumbled, wiping his mouth as he walked away. He glanced back from the room’s exit and said, “What, do you want to cuddle too?”

Alduwae swiftly followed.

As they approached the cave’s exit Vaaj-na paused to consider a depiction of Kynareth, high above what must have been ancient doors. “You know,” he mused. “Those old Nords were quite good. Some of these carvings are very pretty.”

Alduwae uttered not a single word, and that was perfectly fine with the Khajiit.

*

Author's note: This story is the sequel to "A Khajiit Gigue" and many of the characters and/or events have a tangential connection my C0DA cycle (which begins with "A Khajiit C0DA"). The "Khajiit Gigues" are more light-hearted pieces and are more fan-fiction-y than apocryphal-y. I hope you enjoy them!