The Last Dragonborn

Chapter 18

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I had planned on staying in Riften for most of the week. There were small jobs that needed to be done for the Thieves Guild, easy marks that didn't take much effort, but served as reminders that we were a power once more. After being there for almost three days I found myself growing restless. My skills were such that the jobs rarely took much focus and I didn't get the thrill from them I once had. I had never had that happen before. I loved Riften. It had come to represent safety and security for me. I loved my home in the Cistern beneath the city with my found family, but now the damp stone walls made me feel trapped and edgy.

I was in our training room, using a sparring dummy when Brynjolf swaggered in. He watched me silently as I destroyed my fifth dummy in three days with my twin short swords. I twirled the swords as I side stepped around the fallen bits of straw and cloth. The air movement made the sweat on my body cool and my soft blue linen shirt clung to my skin.

Brynjolf shook his auburn hair out of his face. "Feeling a mite testy lass?" he asked, quirking a brow at the remains of the dummy. "Those don't grow on trees you know."

"Just trying to stay sharp," I said, twirling my swords in my hands once again. The grips were practically molds of my hands and after all the hours of working with them they felt like extensions of my body. "Did you find those scrolls I asked-"

"Not yet. Probably take another week," Brynjold said, interrupting me. A small frown formed between his brows. "Just how long are you planning on staying this time?"

"Sick of me already?" I teased.

Brynjolf snorted. "Not normally, but you have been in a right rotten mood and you haven't been here a week."

"I have a lot on my mind," I groused, sliding my swords back into their sheaths.

"Anything you would care to discuss?" Brynjolf asked, he leaned a hip against one of the lock picking practice trunks and crossed his arms over his chest.

I opened my mouth to tell him, but stopped. There was little Brynjolf could do to help me. He was a fair warrior, but open combat wasn't where his talents lay. I didn't need stealth to help me with the Alduin problem. I didn't honestly know what I needed, but I didn't want to drag my friend into the middle of it. He had already risked making himself a target by the Thalmor for me.

He must have read something in my face because his shut down and the teasing light left his eyes. He green eyes were suddenly so serious and intense it made something in my chest ache. "You don't have to protect me, lass. I'm a big boy."

"It's not that," I quickly argued. I looked around the cistern. "This is my home. I won't risk it for them."

"For who?" Brynjolf pressed cocking his head to the side.

I just shook my head, looking at the floor. Any more information would be dangerous for him. Brynjolf was loyal to a fault, and if he thought I was in danger or couldn't handle something, he would dig until he was certain I was safe.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, heaving a frustrated sigh. "If they are the reason you are going so stir crazy, perhaps you should go bother them for a bit."

I scowled at him. "Are you telling me to leave?" I asked.

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "I'm telling you, that you are driving us all mad here. Whatever has you so worked up isn't something you are going to resolve sitting on your cute little arse down here." My scowl deepened and he threw back his head and laughed. "Get your stuff and get on the road," he advised. "Your answers aren't here."