The story so far:
In Bruma, Skavild has been reunited for the moment with his librarian friends Halthir and Linvel, who are searching for Second Archivist Eldaline's lost gryphon somewhere in the Jerall Mountains.
While none of them as yet believe in dragons, Eldaline and her soldier Aralina are still trapped in Whiterun by a big one flying around outside. They have, however, resolved a long feud between two old clans of the city, and successfully re-established contact with the Thalmor Embassy after Eldaline menaced, blackmailed and threatened to publicly humiliate Avulstein Gray-Mane in front of his entire family, after already previously arresting his brother Thorald. Thorald has meanwhile been released, under the condition that he maintains Eldaline's story.
I wish that child would stop running around my nice inn waving a wooden sword and shouting about spiders. Thought the innkeeper of the Jerall View Inn. Raucous families like that would be better off at the Restful Watchman.
"Da! Look, I'm going to fight a dragon!" Shouted Rufus. "With my invisible mechanical spider!"
"That's a good boy." said Skavild. "How long do you two think you're going to be stuck here?" he enquired of Archivists Halthir and Linvel.
"Aaaaaaaargh." said Rufus, running into the door.
"We can stay until the end of Frostfall to await news of Saril the gryphon." said Junior Archivist Halthir.
"And then we must leave no matter what." said Very Junior Archivist Linvel. "Or else the sea will be too bumpy for us and we shall be sick."
"Da, I hurt my nose."
"Does Eldaline know he's missing?" said Skavild, finishing the last of his inferior horker salad. You couldn't catch fresh horkers down here.
Rufus said, "I can still smell though."
"No." said Archivist Halthir. "But I hope we shall be able to find him before news reaches her."
"Poor Saril will be so lost and alone." Linvel sighed.
But Halthir added, "Our consolation is that he is an incredibly large flying predator with no natural enemies."
"This does solve one mystery that's been bothering people." Skavild said. "There's talk of a dragon north of the mountains."
"But I don't know if I can still smell cake, or only stew, Da. If I had some cake, I'd know for sure."
Halthir was very amused by talk of dragons. "But, they are not known to exist. They were all hunted to extinction, several times, which does not quite make sense, but nonetheless, in all the books, there you have it. I can imagine a person of delicate nerves and no observational skills might mistake Saril for a dragon."
"Only, gryphons don't breathe fire, do they?" Skavild said suddenly.
"No, though he might have learned. Why? Has he breathed fire at somebody?"
"Oh, I hope not." said Linvel.
Skavild stood up heavily. "Let's talk somewhere quieter. Careful, Rufus, perhaps you should stop running around the room with that sword, did you have a fally downy?"
They sat down in a quieter corner, where a nearby fireplace warmly roasted low-hanging stuffed animal heads.
"This is better. Honest," said Skavild. "I'm still quite salty with your Ambassador for throwing me out like that. Now everybody hates me and I'm using a false name every new place I go. It's a damned nightmare. Some inns I've been Gostav, some places Ysgald, Eirvak, Karlhat, Norgrom, I can't remember who I am. There's no point even trying in Bruma because this little ninny calls me Da at the top of his voice and good luck stoppin' him."
"I was very sorry that the Bureau was dissolved, and that no provision was made for your circumstances, Skavild, though not very surprised." said Junior Archivist Halthir.
"You know what's a surprise?" said Rufus.
"No, what's a surprise, son?"
"It's a thing that happens and you don't know about it before it happens." said Rufus.
Very Junior Archivist Linvel laughed. "Your little boy tells very funny jokes, Skavild."
"Jokes?" said Rufus, falling over. "Oof, sorry. Wow, what is your robe made of?"
"Rufus, why don't you run around the room with your sword again?" Skavild suggested.
"I'm tired." said Rufus. "Wow, look, a broom."
"Quick, before he gets tired of looking at that broom." said Skavild. "I'll try to explain what I saw."
"Gryphon or not, something's been breathing fire. Or more likely throwing it. At a little town called Helgen, just up the mountain road from the White River. Nothing left."
"That's near the pass at Fort Neugrad, isn't it?" said Archivist Halthir. "Where the General set up the ambush for Ulfric Stormcloak." For Halthir and Linvel, of course, had never had any trouble remembering the Jarl of Windhelm's name, only in informing their superior that she was repeatedly getting it wrong.
"Ambush?" said Skavild.
"Ambush!" shrieked Rufus, to the evident delight of a librarian with exceptionally acute hearing.
"The General had the Jarl of Windhelm surrounded." said Halthir. "This was the reason for recalling all civilian and diplomatic staff to Alinor. Didn't the Ambassador tell you?"
"No, she didn't tell me." said Skavild. "Well, this makes sense. Helgen was caught up in fighting between Ulfric and the Legion. And there's a big gryphon flying around." And it did make sense.
"I'd best get this one back to his Ma. He's got himself overexcited."
"I'm not, Da." protested Rufus.
"Meet me in the market tomorrow." said Skavild. "I've got more to ask you."
"Good night, Rufus." said Halthir and Linvel.
But because Halthir did not know that Eldaline, Aralina and Elenwen had gone to Helgen to confiscate Ulfric, he did not fear that his Second Archivist had been killed. And because Skavild did not think that his meeting with the last of the Blades would garner any sympathy from Halthir, he said nothing at all about Delphine, Acilius Bolar, Acilius Bolar's reformed and pious executioner, or Acilius Bolar's Oath-blade.
And north of the Jerall Mountains, just before sunset, another, rather larger, feast had begun in Jorrvaskr, the Hall of the Companions. But the feast was not held in honour of these warriors. Vignar Gray-Mane had invited his old rival, once friend, Olfrid Battle-Born, to his table once more. This is because there was not enough space in either of their houses.
"I am certain that nobody intends to poison you, Second Archivist Eldaline." said Agent Aralina. "The logistics of it, in a gathering of this size, would be unmanageable."
"Well, why invite me at all?" Eldaline demanded. "I have made it quite clear that I hate parties."
"And there aren't even enough chairs. Let's go back to the Wayhouse and have soup."
"We only need to stay a moment. The Battle-Borns were insistent that we should accept their apology."
"Well, that is nice." said Eldaline. "But if these people hit me over the head and chain me up in a sewer, I will not be as patient."
Eldaline stopped in front of the long table and cleared her throat politely. "Greetings, Clans Battle-Born and Gray-Mane. We are here to offer our congratulations upon having resolved your recent quarrel about provincial politics, a perceived backhanded insult to somebody's wife's snowberry tart, and the ownership of a long-deceased cow."
"Look, Fralia!" said Eorlund Gray-Mane the blacksmith. "Here they are, the elves who didn't kidnap our dear Thorald."
"Hello." said his wife. "What a lovely party."
"I'm ashamed of myself for accusing you of spiriting away the Gray-Manes' son." said Olfrid Battle-Born. "I realise that you regularly do things like this, but why would you do it and then parade around in front of your prisoners' families? Trying to push all your problems and misfortunes onto the Thalmor is lazy thinking. But now he's back, so it obviously wasn't you."
"My daughter has a purple shirt just like that, but she can't find it." said his wife, Bergitte.
"Our brother arrived home this morning!" Olfina Gray-Mane sang brightly.
"...with his girl!" added Avulstein, who had been urgently trying to catch Eldaline's attention since she had arrived. But Eldaline was not a person who liked having her attention caught, so had pointedly avoided eye-contact with everybody, as usual. "Just over there!"
"Yes." she said at last, with some reluctance, looking in the direction of Avulstein's frantic peering. "I see what you mean."
Aralina said, "Second Archivist Eldaline, is everything all right?"
"Yes, Flopsy. Turn around."
"Hello." said Aranwen. "It's so nice to meet you both, for the very first time. And so lovely to be here."
"Second Archivist..." said Aralina.
"Yes, I know." said Eldaline. "Sit down, Flopsy."
"And how delightful to meet my darling Thorald's beloved relations and herd, at last."
"Clan." Thorald said quietly.
"Unusual to see another Altmer at a family gathering of Nords." said Aranwen. "I can't bloody wait to hear how you got here."
Eldaline said, "I was just thinking the same thing myself."
"So was I!" said Thorald. "I mean, so was I, darling."
"Second Archivist, would you ask these Nords to give me some wine?"
Aranwen could now kick both her prisoner and her commanding officer on the shin at the same time if she swung her legs just right. "Sorry!"
"But, no, really, I'm homesick to hear of my noble kin and my poor heart yearns for the story of what in Oblivion is happening."
"Yes, darling. I hope they agree to tell you!" said Thorald, whose leg hurt. "But let's wait until after dinner. Ow."
"Now that our feud is ended, Fralia and I can start our philanthropic basket-weaving club again." said Bergitte Battle-Born.
"I thought it was a club-weaving club?" said Vignar. "Ah, it was so long ago! And the civil war has plagued Skyrim for so many years. As long as we make sure to completely avoid the topic in conversation, why should it plague old neighbours and friends?"
Olfina drank from her goblet. "The war has gone on for so long that it's become boring. Let us speak of happier things, Uncle Vignar!"
"Second Archivist, did you hear what the human woman said?" Aralina hissed.
"I couldn't agree more. What a boring war." said Aranwen. "I've seen better. This one looks like it was designed by an amateur."
Eldaline bristled. "Oh, right, it's like that, is that right? You want a story, do you? I'll tell you a story all right. A bed time story before you go to sleep and wake up on a merchant ship to Pyandonea with the Fish-Elves."
"What a lovely party." said Fralia Gray-Mane.
"Yes." said Eorlund. "And now our little Olfina can get married to the Battle-Born boy."
Aranwen laughed a little. "Oh, Jon the Minstrel? They've been married eight years."
"Aah." said Thorald Gray-Mane.
"Thorald told me under interr... Under the moons, on a summer's night."
"What?" cried Vignar. "Why wasn't I told?"
Olfrid bellowed: "And why wasn't I invited?"
"You were invited, my dear." Bergitte explained. "But we all told you it was a tapestry exhibition."
"Nobody has any respect for their elders these days." Vignar grunted. "My heart is broken by my niece's wanton treachery."
"And mine, by my son's, though he isn't here." said Olfrid.
"Olfina's thirty-two, Uncle Vignar." said Avulstein. "We were all getting sick of waiting for you to either make up or kill each other."
Vignar Gray-Mane turned away in wounded indignation. "I enjoyed that tapestry exhibition! Now you've all ruined it! Should I be grateful she doesn't ask Jon the Minstrel to dress up as a Penitus Oculatus like she did her last man?"
"My uncle shouldn't know about that." said Olfina, from down the table.
He continued thus, "That I, a Gray-Mane, and leader of our great clean, should live to see the day my niece asks a poncy Battle-Born Minstrel to dress as a Penitus Oculatus!"
Jon the Minstrel's mother looked upset.
"Stop saying my son dresses as a Penitus Oculatus." said Olfrid Battle-Born.
"Are you going to make me, Imperial bootlicker?" shouted Vignar.
"I know what will make everybody feel better." said Aranwen. "Dancing! Come, Thorald!"
"Oh, my leg hurts so much."
"Dance with me, or I'll tell your brother you took that Stormcloak courier job to steal his girl."
"Right. That's quite enough of that." Eldaline stood up. "Flopsy, follow me."
"Keep up, human wretch." ordered Aranwen, dancing.
"I can't, I'm in pain, you pointy-eared savage." said Thorald.
"Is the one with the brown hair coming this way?" she said.
"I hope she has the floppy-eared one flay you to death!"
"Hoppity skippity. Come on, you weakling. If I can do this in these shoes, you can do it on bent legs." said Aranwen.
"Aranwen," said Eldaline, somewhat over the top of the continuing argument. "Would you join us at the big hot blacksmith's forge at the top of the very steep steps with the sheer drop on the other side?"
"At least this means Jon and I can stop hiding the four children." said Olfina.
"And the house that we live in."
- continues