Arwen raised her eyebrows when Ennis produced the map. She was surprised- she thought Thessaly had been holding on to it, and she did not remember her handing it off to him. Maybe thieving was second nature for the bard.

"Well, either way we take, we're going to be in the middle of some very cold wind," she said lightly. "Valleys trap breeze, and its always colder along the coast. Maybe we should take the valley route. It might be a little less cold."

"I'm all for less of these damn winds," said Thessaly.

Ennis looked relieved as well. Having been unable to find appropriate gear, he was still without a winter coat of any kind. The leather armor only did so much to cut the icy chill.

"Valley route it is," said Ennis, and began leading the way out of town.

When folk saw that the three strangers were leaving town, several waved to Arwen and Ennis, a few even coming up to thank them for their aid.

A little boy with a smear of miner's dust on his cheeks came straight up to Arwen.

"When I'm big, I'm gonna be a mage like you!" he proclaimed.

Thessaly looked on with utter bemusement. Watching her two companions being buttered by the townsfolk was a welcome relief from the alternative. If these people had any idea who or what she was, she'd be getting a similar treatment, she was fair certain. It was nice to go unnoticed.

Even Ennis was getting attention. He had to insist to a buxom miner woman that he was not interested in staying 'one more night.' After letting her down gently, he looked up at Thessaly and mimicked a grimace.

"You just wait," he told her when he was closer. "The next time you play hero to a host of impressionable villagers, you can deal with proposals of all kinds."

The look she gave him withered most of his exuberance.

"What? It's not like people aren't ever going to learn you're - "

Thessaly gripped Ennis' face in one hand, mashing his lips together so he couldn't speak.

"You want to keep your tongue, you'll hold it twixt yer teeth," she told him.

His blue eyes looked down at her with alarm and concern, but he nodded. Suddenly, they zipped to the side.

"Oh, thuk goos," he said between her fingers.

When Thessaly turned to look, Ennis escaped her grasp and began trotting down the road towards a stand of huts just outside town. Thessaly blinked a moment and then recognized the ears and tails of several Khajiit milling about them.

Lucky bastard, she thought. Ennis had found himself a caravan.

Arwen was not good with children. She wasn't sure how to respond to the young boy at first, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in bemusement, but she eventually found her voice.

"Go for it, kid. Magic is lots of fun!" She patted him on the head as they moved on and turned her attention to Thessaly, looking highly embarrassed. "Is that how you talk to children? I don't know how to handle kids. What do you even say to that sort of thing?"

Ennis' attention to the caravan was the only thing that brought hers to it- she had gotten so used to passing by the Khajiits in various towns that their presence was barely noticeable to her.

"Good for Ennis, I guess," she said, smile returning to her lips. "If they've got something warm, I suppose it's his lucky day. I thought we'd leave Dawnstar with the poor guy shivering."

"You did fine," Thessaly laughed, patting Arwen on the shoulder. "Really, that you even talked at him probably made his day."

She tried to think back on her own childhood, wondering what would have sounded encouraging. The priests had tried to get her to use more of her magic, but she had been reluctant to listen to her elders even them. Perhaps if she'd had someone to look up to who had been a mage - she'd certainly found others to admire and learn from in her time.

"When you're that age, encouragement or dissuasion usually doesn't matter if they've got their hearts set on sommat," she concluded. She wondered how long the kid would decide he was set on being a mage, and whether or not he'd even develop the talent. She decided it was best not to think about it, lest she get some kind of invested in this place she hoped she never saw again.

By the time Thessaly and Arwen reached the Khajiit caravan, Ennis was already coming back over to them, looking positively elated and several layers thicker in his new coat.

"Ah, warmth!" he crowed. "I had forgotten what it felt like!"

"Well, you have been without a coat for a while," Arwen said mildly. "Good for you. At least the Khajiit didn't make you stand still for target practice for that coat." She couldn't help but snicker, trying to hold back laughter. "You really should have seen your face, Ennis. It was more funny than watching an ice wraith dance."

Ennis blinked a moment, trying to envision a world in which a dancing ice wraith was funny. He couldn't conjure anything short of terrifying. But that didn't dampen his mood in the slightest. The curled sheep skin on the inside of the coat was soft and cozy. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to take it off again.

"I do make quite the target," he admitted, turning in a circle to show off how much broader he'd become in the thick outfit. Then he stood and rubbed his arms, enjoying the feeling of soft wool against his skin, beaming all the while.

"Don't have too much fun in there," Thessaly warned, giving him a punch in the arm. "We got tracks to make."

'Ow,' mouthed Ennis, wondering if he should be surprised he'd felt her fist through layers of wool and leather, and followed.

"You really do. It's that face of yours, I think. It makes the perfect target." Arwen held her hands up like a frame, peering at Ennis through her fingers with a smile on her face. "Yeah, perfect target alright." She dropped the frame and giggled, apparently still enjoying the results of their joke.

The first hour of their walk was comfortable enough, with little wind and relatively warm air, but a couple miles in, a breeze began to roll through the land. It carried snow, which started not long after the wind picked up. It was a fairly light snow, but coupled with the frigid wind, it made being outdoors a real chore. To hide from it, Arwen pulled her cowl up a little further over her head and tucked it in at the bottom, shivering.

Ennis started to look a bit worried.

"She does realize I don't have another shield, right?" he asked Thessaly.

She raised her eyebrows, as if to ask, 'You think I care?'

"You do realize I don't have a shield on me, right?" Ennis tried on Arwen instead. "Nothing that would block arrows? You're not planning to make a pincushion of me, right? Because I'm pretty sure I would die, and I'd really rather not die, thank you."

The trio followed the road a ways south, enjoying a clear morning warmed by a sunny sky. The wind came in the afternoon, ushering flurries after them as Ennis lead them away from the trail, pointing out two hills nearby between which they could cross for a shortcut to Ustengrav. Thessaly, suspicious of his confidence, made him show her on the map where this was indicated, and Ennis obliged her at length until the flurries began to build up against their coats and equipment.

"Perhaps we ought to seek a bit of shelter before we're buried," Ennis suggested. Thessaly was growing so cold she didn't argue, simply forged forward towards the sturdiest-looking cliff out of the wind she could find.

The cliff they approached carried an overhang, shielding a rather large area of land from the snow, though the icy wind still made a halfhearted way through. Ennis' confidence in their route didn't seem out of place to Arwen; she had to give him credit- he'd proven to be plenty capable and knowledgeable enough that she was starting to doubt him less and less.

As they neared the cliff, Arwen pulled her bag around to the front and retrieved her blanket from inside, pulling it around her head and shoulders and covering half her face. It was far too cold for her comfort.

"We desperately need firewood," she said, teeth chattering a bit. "It's only going to get colder as the sun sets."

"We've got another few hours before sundown," Ennis said, facing west. "If we just keep going, we might even hit Ustengrav before it gets dark."

He looked back at his companions and immediately rethought this suggestion. Arwen was huddled into her blanket, shivering, looking rather miserable in the chill. She didn't look willing to go another step. Thessaly, on the other hand, was just getting up from leaning against the cliff face, and he saw her wobble.

He then remembered that this was probably the Dragonborn's first full day out of bed.

He turned back to the west, looking around for a moment, then back at them.

"Then again," he said. "I think I see a good campsite over there. A bit more sheltered than here. We could -"

Thessaly brushed past him. "If we can get there, we should just get this madness over with," she grumbled. "I'm ready to be done with snow."

Ennis caught her shoulder. She rounded on him, wide-eyed, but he didn't let go.

"We should rest," he insisted.

Thessaly glared pointedly at the hand still on her shoulder and Ennis reluctantly withdrew it.

"Come on," he said, gentler. "You're going to deny that a little warmth?"

He nodded back towards Arwen, and Thessaly looked over his shoulder. The breton did look rather pitiful, wrapped up in her blanket like a cloistered monk. There was even a blue tinge to her lips.

"After all," Ennis enunciated. "Not everyone can have as fine a winter coat as I -"

"Alright, stuff it, target practice," Thessaly growled. "We'll build a damn fire. I'll clear us a spot - you get the wood, since you're so eager."

"Splendid!" Ennis clapped his gloved hands together and scampered off through the snow.

Thessaly trudged to the more sheltered spot he'd indicated. When she was sure he wasn't looking, she let the energy out of her trudge and dragged her ice-numb feet through the snow. She was so tired she thought she could drop face-first into the a nice, soft snowdrift and never get up again. Like hell was she going to let that damn bard be right about stopping, though. She could have pushed forward if she'd had to. Using Arwen's state was a welcome excuse.

When she reached the spot, she dropped to her knees and summoned a small flame to her hands, using it to clear the ground of the thickest spots of ice and snow and dry the stone beneath.

"Care to lend a hand?" she asked the mage, hating how tired she sounded. "You're probably better at this precision stuff than I am."

As if on cue, Thessaly let go of her little flame and it flicked over her wrist, lighting a tuft of fur beneath her bracers. She yelped and flapped her arm, then stuck it in the snow where it hissed briefly. When she pulled it out, she found a large chunk of fur had turned black and curly.

She couldn't even muster the energy to be angry. That little spurt of panic had taken all the adrenaline left out of her. She dropped her arms and leaned back against the cold, damp stone and rested her eyes, listening for Ennis' return.

Arwen kept her blanket around her head until Thessaly asked for help, trying to stay as warm as possible. She eventually pulled it off and folded it up, bending to press her hands into the fluffy snow-covered grass a few feet away from Thessaly's . A shining rune appeared in the snow and she stood straight, backing up a step or two. She carefully reached out with her boot and gently tapped the edge of the rune with her toes, setting it off with a whoosh of fire. The patch was suddenly clear, although the grass was a tad singed and steaming.

"There," she said, brushing the melted snow on her knees. She picked up her blanket and wrapped it around her head and shoulders again, plopping down just inside the circle. "That boy and his coat. He's so proud of himself for having gotten one, isn't he? He's lucky- if that caravan hadn't been coming through, he'd be cold just like me."

The unusual shine of the rune prompted Thessaly to lift her heavy eyelids - just in time to roll out of the way of the resulting explosion. She managed to keep herself from tumbling into a snow drift, but only just barely. She turned back to growl at Arwen for the mage's general carelessness, but when her hand found the warm, dry stone the rune had flash-heated, she practically melted at the feeling of it and forgot what she was going to say. She crawled forward into the middle of the now-warm stone and lay down, curling up and absorbing its warmth, a catlike smile on her face.

"S'not so bad," she mumbled drowsily.

Instinct from her time in the warren with the other urchins overruled her usual anti-cuddle attitude and Thessaly scooted close until she had curled around Arwen's legs. They were colder than the stone, but between it and her own warmth, Thessa knew closeness would help. It always did.

"You shoulda got one," she added, speech interrupted by a yawn. "If you wan'ed one so much."

"Oh, it isn't that I so much as need a coat. It's just that it's unusually cold and layers of wool and leather can only do so much and that dolt is...a dolt." Arwen only noticed Thessaly had fallen asleep cuddled up to her once she stopped speaking, wrapped up in her blanket. She wasn't bothered in the least; it was harmless, and Arwen hoped it brought her comfort. "Sleep well, I suppose," she said quietly, remaining still to avoid waking Thessaly. She pulled the blanket up over her head and pulled it down in front of her face, her upper half complete concealed.

By the time Ennis came back to the little clearing with an armful of firewood, Thessaly was sound sleep at Arwen's side. The bard stopped several feet short of the shelter, looking oddly alarmed.

Was something wrong with the Dragonborn? She didn't seem the cuddly sort. Could exhaustion have taken some kind of toll on her mind and reverted her to a childlike state?

He shook his head. That was ridiculous. What was more, that whole business with Vaermina was well behind them, he was sure of it. Thessaly was just resting, as he could see clearly when he got closer. She looked peaceful, even. And, he had to admit, rather adorable.

Ennis kept his steps slow and cautious, making as little noise as possible as he approached, then lay the wood down on a dry patch of stone.

"Arwen," he whispered, as loudly as he dared. "Are you awake?"

Of course the two people with the ability to light the fire would be asleep.

The blanket covering her face was suddenly pulled down and Arwen popped into view. She hurriedly fixed her hair, but remained still otherwise, trying to avoid waking Thessaly.

"Yes, I'm awake!" she said with vigor, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. She quickly cuddled into it again, breathing into her hands to warm up her fingers. "What do you need?"

Ennis waved a hand urgently as Arwen spoke, pressing a finger to his lips in a silent bid for quiet.

"Just trying to warm up," he explained softly as she got closer. He arranged the wood he'd gathered into a propped pile, making sure it was at the lowest point on their little stone shelter so embers wouldn't blow around once it got started.

"Care to lend a spark?" he asked the mage.

Arwen watched him prop the wood up, bundled up under her blanket while she waited for him to finish. With the wood pile complete, she moved the blanket and leaned over, free hand aflame. She stuck her hand into the wood pile and the flames grew, engulfing the timber and crackling to life.

"There. Fire," she said, scooting closer to it. She propped herself up on her elbows, sitting with her face near the fire. "Finally. I'm beyond freezing."

Ennis warmed his hands over the growing flame, but had to marvel at how, aside from where his legs were chilled by the frozen stone beneath him, he wasn't terribly bothered by the cold at all. He squashed down into the thick, curled sheepskin on the inside of his new coat and sighed happily.

"Yes, it is rather nippy out, isn't it?" he said brightly, still keeping his voice low. "I suppose I'd be more uncomfortable, but this new coat really is the most magnificent thing."

He held his arms out, admiring what of the coat he could see, grinning from ear to ear.

Then he heard something - a shuddering breath. Ennis turned and saw Thessaly curled on the stone, arms crossed tightly around herself, knees drawn up, mouth tucked into the neck of her coat, ragged breaths fogging the air in little patches. When Arwen had moved away, the elf hadn't followed the warmth, still in an exhausted sleep. Ennis knew just what to do about this.

He went to his bag where he'd strapped on a roll of furs and blankets - as many as he could afford from the well-stocked Khajiit caravan - and pulled out a couple of the thickest he could find, leaving more behind. He'd been hoping to reveal his extra purchase when Thessaly was awake and could appreciate his thoughtfulness, but he didn't suppose waking her to point it out would earn him much gratitude. Instead, he shook out the covers and settled them over the balled-up elf, rolling her a bit so he could get the fur between her and the cold stone. She mumbled sleepily, but didn't rouse. As he tucked the last of the blanket around her, he saw that her shuddering had stopped. There was even a small smile on her face. The thought that he'd been the cause of that smile warmed him unexpectedly - he supposed she might have been dreaming of something pleasant, but warmth did tend to help with that sort of thing. He grinned in reply, then went back to the fire and his own roll of furs and blankets. He took out a blanket and settled it around his legs, then offered the fur to Arwen, who still looked a little frozen.

"So I was wondering," Ennis began, never one to leave an opportunity untaken. "How long have you and Thessaly been traveling together?"

He gave Arwen his full attention, while trying not to seem too rapt. Thessaly was hard enough to question about her past; he didn't imagine it would go over any better with Arwen. But so long as he didn't bring out the parchment just yet, perhaps he could lure her into telling him something with the pretense of conversation. He would simply have to rely on memory for now.

"If you don't stop talking about your coat, I'm going to take my dagger and cut it up the back while you sleep," she said, pointing a finger at him. "Yes, you have a lovely coat. Yes, sheepskin can be very soft. Yes, I'm rather cold. Okay? Do you feel validated?" Arwen smiled and shook her head, turning to reach into her bag for food. She pulled out a head of lettuce and peeled a piece off, munching on it.

"How long have we been traveling together? Not long. I only met her a couple of days before we met you, actually." She held the lettuce out to him, offering him some, though it did not occur to her that normal people didn't simply eat lettuce off the head. "We met in Ivarstead and climbed the steps of High Hrothgar together. On the mountain, we found an ice troll- that was very fun. The Greybeards sent us to go find this...horn thing. Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, I think it's called."

Arwen's comment on his coat went largely ignored, but he did pull it tighter about himself and say nothing more about it.

Ennis took the offered leaf and munched on it subconsciously.

"Only a few days?" he marveled. The two acted as though they had been acquainted for much longer. He wondered if that had more to do with the Dragonborn's innate ability to acquire followers or simply Arwen's tenacity. Considering how charismatic Thessaly had shown herself to be, he imagined it was more of the latter - but it was far better to know the truth of things than to speculate.

"But you get on so well," he mused. His head filled with a million question - about how they'd met, who had initiated the relationship, and what they'd done to grow so close, but he decided it was safest to stick to what Arwen was already talking about - and what he was sure the adventure-seeker would WANT to talk about.

"You met a Frost Troll?" he clarified. "That is to say - did you find its corpse, or...?"

The incredulity in his voice was genuine. He knew how dangerous those beasts were. Their bodies were regenerative. They were even more dangerous than Giants in that way.

"Yes, we haven't been traveling together that long. I'm glad we get along well. I've probably gotten on better with Thessaly than I have with any other partner." It was clear that Ennis was interested, but whether it was the frost troll, or Thessaly, she wasn't sure. "We came face to face with a live one. Those things are just downright angry. Thessaly did most of the work when it came to that. I just hung back and peppered it with arrows until she essentially ripped it open with those swords of hers. She drew most of its aggression. I like to think we work well together. She handles the close quarters stuff, and I back her up. When I first saw her in the tavern, I wasn't entirely sure she was who I thought she was, but I turned out to be right! Have you ever seen a frost troll in person?"

Ennis listened to Arwen ramble, knowing it was best to let folk tell their tales. If left to talk, some folk would often get themselves carried away all on their own, particularly if it seemed they had a good listener. Ennis wasn't sure if he could draw Arwen that far off guard, but he also knew better than to pester her with questions too many questions.

He'd seen Thessaly fight, sort of - it had been hard to keep his attention straight in most of their combat situations thus far - but it still came as somewhat of a surprise to him to hear about the elf having 'ripped something open' as Arwen put it. It implied something much moe vicious than what he'd seen of the Dragonborn so far. He wasn't sure he liked it - but it made sense, of course, for someone with two blades to know precisely how to use them. As both he and Arwen knew, Trolls were terrible foes.

"Me?" Ennis squeaked. "Gods, no!"

He'd never even seen a dead troll, let alone one he'd have to deal with. He rather planned to keep it that way. He hoped to the Eight that joining these ladies didn't mean he would have to come within a mile of such a beast, but now that he thought on it, there was one unavoidable part of the destiny of the Dragonborn which came to mind.

"Have either of you run into a Dragon, yet?"

His voice was low, reverent - as though he could call a Dragon to them just by naming the creature.

"I saw a dragon at a distance," Arwen said, looking thoughtful. "I've never seen one up close, but I could hear it roaring. It sort of resonated across the field. I was walking toward Whiterun when I saw a group of people gathered in an area maybe half a mile away, and a dragon was flying in circles above them. I couldn't hear the people, but the dragon's roar was just...incredibly loud and unpleasant."

She shook her head. Though she had never encountered one, dragons made her a little nervous. She thought she could never take on one on her own, and being with another person or two brought her a sense of security. At least if they did run into one, their chances of winning a scuffle with a dragon were much higher.

"Have you ever seen ice wraiths? Those things are vicious," Arwen commented. "I've got scars on my neck and shoulder from being bitten by one. I think they're awful, but also really interesting."

Ennis listened, wide-eyed and silent, as Arwen described her near encounter with a dragon. His fingers itched for the journal in his bag, but he knew that would have to wait. He hadn't settled with these ladies what exactly he he wanted to accomplish with them, but neither of their attitudes had been exactly accommodating towards him so far. Better to go in gently, let them get used to his 'inquisitive nature.'

"Outside Whiterun?" he asked. "Do you mean the one that destroyed Helgen? The first dragon attack?"

Arwen seemed less interested in talking about far-off beasties and more about the ones she was used to encountering up close. Ennis couldn't relate. He knew Arwen enjoyed her adventures, but he rather liked his skin where it was, whole and un-frost-bitten.

"I've actually never seen an ice wraith," he admitted. "I've heard tell about them, though. Awful things, sneak up on you. Hard to spot and even harder to kill, is what I've heard. You survived its bite?"

Ennis had heard terrible stories about the bites of ice wraiths. They froze the flesh and left darkened skin, which sometimes healed if looked after, but more often left blackened patches for those without the means to heal themselves. With Arwen's skill in healing, he couldn't imagine the scars would be that bad - anything that marred the flesh of the otherwise lovely Breton struck him as unimaginable - but he was still interested in the results. He craned his neck instinctively, as if to get a look, but knew that both propriety and the chill in the air stood in his way.

"Yes, that one exactly," Arwen said enthusiastically, bouncing a little and flapping her hands, bright-eyed. "It was pretty intense. The dragon kept flying in circles and landing on this tower, roaring and all. I saw the smoke from the burning tower, so I assumed its roar is how it spits flame, you know?" She looked skyward as if searching for a dragon, a broad smile on her face.

"Yeah, they're terrible little buggers. They're fast, too, and I personally find that hissing noise they make absolutely awful. It reminds me of wood hissing in a fire." She stuck her tongue out and shook her head. "I'm mostly intact from it. See?" She pulled the neck of her robes away from the left side of her neck, exposing slightly dark pinks pockmarks in the shape of a crescent near her collarbone. "It hurt real bad, though. Probably one of the worse injuries I've received. Barely made it out alive after that one, blood was just everywhere. Ruined my leathers at the time. Mother patched me up and told me to stop going up the mountains by myself, but forget that. I go where I want. I love mountain climbing. If I had more room for equipment, you better believe I'd be climbing everyday."

Ennis was tempted to ask Arwen to return to the tale of the dragon attack she witnessed, having heard from several unreliable sources that the Dragonborn had been present at that first attack, but having been unable to confirm it until now. If Arwen had met Thessaly directly after that attack, she might have been the first one to meet the Dragonborn after her tale was begun!

However, Arwen seemed keen on telling him more about her ice wraith encounter, and he knew it would seem suspicious if he kept pulling for more information without making an effort at fluid conversation.

Prompted to look, Ennis leaned over on his knees to get a better view of the scars in question. Indeed, they weren't the blackened mess most folk suffered from a wraith's bite, just uneven patches of silver-pink skin. Her mother must have been a fine healer.

As he sat back down, Ennis had a flash of memory. Arwen screaming at him, tears in her eyes. A creature wearing his mask had killed her mother and father. The memory was hazy, as if from a dream, as many of his memories from times wearing the mask often were. At the time, he'd felt less sadness for Arwen than anger at her outburst, when all he'd been trying to do was help them, but now that the moment returned to him, he felt a bit guilty. There was no way to bring up that moment now, and he had no desire to relive the pain he'd brought up for the mage, but he felt the need to apologize now - if only to let her know that he felt for her loss.

He looked at Arwen, though, and saw the enthusiasm on her face for the imagined climbing she'd done as a child, and knew it would do neither of them any good. He let loose a smile of his own, basking in the light of her excitement, and figured it was safer riding down memory lane with her than to try for any detours.

"As such an experienced climber," he ventured instead. "The seven thousand steps must have been a breeze, eh?"

Arwen looked a little thoughtful. She pursed her lips and bobbed her head from side to side, waving her hand.

"The seven thousand steps were hard, but it wasn't that bad I suppose," she said, tugging on a lock of her own hair. "It was a pain in the side, yeah, but getting to finally climb them for a reason was nice. I don't go climbing for fun anymore, it's all about the end goal now. I go climbing when I need to get somewhere faster. It's still fun though." Still looking pensive, Arwen waggled a finger at him, a smile returning to her face.

"You never mentioned what you were doing in that tavern, stealing that claw. Did you know it was there? Or was it a crime of opportunity?" Her smile widened slightly and she propped her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. "Be honest."

Ennis glanced at Arwen, only a little startled to have the questions turn to him. It wasn't often that a subject wanted to know a little more about the inquisitive bard, but it was something he was generally prepared for. More often than not, he'd simply pass off the question, giving some perfunctory answer before returning to the more interesting topic. It was second nature at this point.

Just as he was opening his mouth, though, Arwen prompted him to 'be honest.'

It was what Thessaly had asked him to be as a condition of his presence in their little band. At the time, he had figured it would just require being fairly tight-lipped around her, giving small truths here and there to keep her satisfied, barely thinking about what to tell her companion.

Looking at the mage now, he suddenly realized he felt he could trust her. There was no guarantee she would keep anything he told her to herself, he figured, but he didn't feel he should fear judgement or quiet harbored unrest. If Arwen didn't like what he told her, she'd let him know. She was remarkably unflappable in that way.

It didn't mean he would parcel out the whole truth. That didn't sit well with him quite yet. But keeping entirely to himself wouldn't work here - particularly not when Arwen was so singularly-minded.

He let go the breath he'd been holding, and the flippant words with it. He hung his head a moment and grinned, letting his shoulders loose. Honest, eh?

"I was there for the same reason you were," he told her. "I was hoping to learn more about the Dragonborn. When I found out she hadn't been there yet, I spotted the fellow with the claw and figured my luck had changed. I'd been tracking such treasures for months, you see. He was reluctant to sell it to me, though. Sort of stubborn about it, really. I figured if the only way I could get it was to steal it... well, he wasn't doing anything with it anyhow."

He watched Arwen briefly for any glint of recognition. He recalled very clearly the night he'd arrived in Ivarstead, and the company he'd kept, but he was starting to think that she might not simply be playing it off.

"You know, I wasn't going to say anything, but I can't help but wonder - you don't remember me, do you?"

Arwen picked up on the subtle change in expression on Ennis' face when she prompted him to be truthful. Although the boy had proven he wasn't exactly the most trustworthy, he was a veritable battle friend and had been frank enough recently that she felt a little more comfortable asking, felt a little more sure he might really be truthful. She was aware of what he was doing- interrogating her to get at information about Thessaly. She wasn't stupid, though she had a talent for picking up on others' hidden motives fairly easily. She was glad for her ability to spot lies; it had saved her a great deal of money in her travels, mostly from unscrupulous traders trying to tell her iron arrows were steel.

She listened to him speak, hardly moving as Ennis explained what he was doing in that tavern. It wasn't a shock to learn he was searching for Thessaly, but she was glad to learn whether the claw theft had been a crime of opportunity or a planned event.

"Remember you? Why would I remember you?" she asked, shaking her head a little. In truth, Arwen spent a lot of her time in taverns drunk off her backside, and remembering the strangers she spent the night with was hard. She held up a finger for him to pause, and thought very hard. Closing her eyes, she recalled the day she got there and tried to remember whether she had seen the guy there or not, but her memory grew hazy the more of the days she tried to remember.

It only made her think she should, perhaps, drink less alcohol.

"No, I don't. Not in the slightest." She suddenly looked a little horrified. "Did we- did we sleep together?"

Ennis waited patiently, watching as Arwen sorted through memory for any hint of their former meeting. He didn't suppose she would find anything unlaced with a boozy haze. The recollection he had of her was much clearer - a Breton mage drinking in whatever company would have her, filling the inn with raucous laughter and aimless enthusiasm.

When she took a stab at their former association, Ennis promptly choked on his own throat and began coughing violently. Thessaly stirred, face contorting before her eyes opened into narrowed slits.

"Oi, keep it down, will you?" she grumbled, but she pushed herself up into a sitting position, clearly finished with her rest.