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He kept his promise to Aela. He had examined his surroundings and, after noting he was in no immediate danger, the Dovahkiin had walked to the nearest oak. He had sat under it, mingling with the shadows as few could, and, closing his eyes, had promptly fallen asleep. He'd have done no good out there as exhausted as he had been, both from his day and from the long path through Oblivion.

He woke up with the early morning sun touching his face, feeling rested and energetic. Dovahkiin took quite well the fact he was in an entirely new world, for two main reasons. First, he wasn't too worried about his actually being there. He had been summoned, he knew, and as such, he had been brought to that land with a purpose. Considering that his summoner had not found him so far, he reasoned that he'd either be contacted soon or his task was something rather obvious.

He honestly hoped it would be the latter; he wasn't too fond of taking orders, and being contacted would force him to actually do what they had brought him there for – or do the direct opposite, because heck, he wasn't some sort of puppet one could simply throw around. No, he'd like it much better if he learnt of his assignment by himself; he'd fulfill it in due time and meanwhile, he'd be free to do fundamentally whatever.

The second reason he felt so carefree was that it was an entirely new world. He was ecstatic by all the adventure it promised, all the new people, places, everything. In his demeanor, he was much like a child brought before a shiny new toy. He'd eventually want to go home, of course, but not until he had done what he was meant to do, and not until he had scrutinized every corner of the foreign land. Dovahkiin wasn't one to let worry spoil his experiences. He'd simply cross the bridge when he got there.

One way or the other, all options would lead him to the little village south. He'd have to go there sooner or later, if not to get some information concerning this place, then only to acquire a decent meal and a mug of mead. This led him to his next issue.

The Dovahkiin was utterly broke. It was a just state, of course – back home he'd been wealthy; he'd had a lot more coin than he'd needed, possibly more than he could ever spend. But, obviously, he did not convey all that money. Not only that'd be dangerous, it was also downright stupid – it made no sense at all to lug a bulky sack of coins around. So he left most, if not all of his gold, stored in the multiple households he owned throughout Skyrim.

The previous night, he had left his home with the precise amount of money to buy himself some mead and stew. He'd spent it all on Jorrvaskr and as a result, his satchel was ultimately empty. Not that it'd matter anyway; he doubted this world and his shared the same currency, and even if gold was something valuable in most places, carrying a foreign coin was certain to raise some questions.

He conceded he'd have to resort to less than honest ways to obtain money. Inspecting his objective, he noted the road that connected to its gates. It seemed to cross the town in a north –south route, and it was fairly active – the Dovahkiin could see people walking in flocks towards the gates. The place was probably less of a city and more of a resting stop for travelers, which benefited him, as it was unlikely he'd be noticed as more than another wanderer.

He picked up some pebbles in the ground and filled his satchel with them, weighting the sack until he thought it right, then approached the road, hiding behind a tree. He waited until the opportunity arose. Spotting a target, he sent a quick prayer to Nocturnal and snuck behind two young soldiers who were slightly behind the troop, apparently to share some kind of private conversation. Ignoring their words, the Dovahkiin focused on his victim, the shorter of the two. Nimbly, with uncanny confidence, he untied the sack where he assumed the money was and switched it for his own stone filled one, leaving to his hiding spot quickly afterwards.

Under the safety of his tree, he counted his profits, happily realizing they should be enough for a few days. His skills in stealth amused him, considering his clumsiness. He was very likely to stumble, trip and awkwardly hit things, sending them flying away in impossible directions. And don't even get started on decorating. Things would spin, twist, pivot and whirl in his grasp as if they had a life of their own, and, more often than not, he'd misjudge his own strength, thus sending objects fleeting away in ways that defied logic.

One particular night, he recalled, he'd been on the Drunken Huntsman sharing a drink with Farkas and his brother, Vilkas. The brothers had been abrupt towards him when they first met, but they'd eventually warmed up, and their friendship had culminated when Dovahkiin helped them free themselves of the werewolf curse. They'd been idly talking about Carlotta Valentia and her daughter, when Dovahkiin heard his name.

Tracing the source of the talk to a corner in the room, he took notice of Aela and Lydia, casually chatting. He beckoned the brothers to be quiet while he strained his ears to catch what was being said, expecting to hear about his stunning good looks, or maybe his manly biceps.

"…ridiculously uncouth. It is almost as if he had two left hands", he heard the redhead state to her friend. That brought out a snort from Lydia.

"More like he has two feet in the place of his hands!" she'd exclaimed exasperated.

He'd been about to protest when his mug slipped from his hands, flipping in the air and spilling its contents all over him and Vilkas. He'd blinked, stunned – how was that even physically possible?! Vilkas had a blank face, as if unsure whether to be furious or laugh. He ended up settling for the latter.

"She's right, you know. It is as if you have two feet instead of hands – two left feet, for that matter" his brother had added merrily between laughter.

Despite his apparent lack of dexterity, Dovahkiin wasn't too dreadful when it came down to sneaking. He wasn't a natural, however, and it had taken him a lot of practice to master stealth. He'd been caught countless times, and the amount he'd paid in bounties probably surpassed his profits with pickpocketing, but once he'd became proficient in it, he was able to do astonishing feats, such as stealing a guard's weapons from under his nose, or switching an unsuspecting soldier's money satchel for a bag of rocks. Being in Nocturnal's favor also helped quite a lot.

He moved his sword to his back, where it'd be concealed under his shield, leaving only the hilt and the tip of the blade visible – Dawnbreaker was quite an exotic weapon, and it was sure to call attention. Then, once Dovahkiin was sure there was enough distance between the soldier he'd snitched and him, he took to the roads, and after a few hours, he reached the village whose name, he learned, was Eastcroft.

He hadn't any trouble getting in; he'd mingled with some travelers and the guards weren't bothering to question everyone, so he'd simply strolled through the gates and into the town square. Once inside, he perceived a message board to the left of the gates. There he saw what could only be bounty letters, the criminals' faces overlapped by two gigantic parchment sheets. They depicted two young men, the older one displaying a full beard. Both had similar shaggy brown hair, and despite the different eye colors, they seemed related. They were obviously greatly wanted, the sheer size of the pictures showed that – but Dovahkiin could not tell why or the reward; he'd just realized with irritation that the characters were different from those used in Tamriel and, as such, that he could not read.

Well, there goes his plan of finding this place's version of the Pocket Guide to the Empire. It was a wonder he and this people even spoke the same language… that, or magic, which was actually more likely – he knew about the existence of potions that would allow him to understand other idioms; maybe a Daedra or Divine had taken pity on him and mixed some in his mead the day before. One way or the other, it was time for plan B. He needed information, he needed food, and he wouldn't mind a drink either. To the tavern it is.

The place wasn't hard to find. Getting inside, he came upon a room uncomfortably full – he could see at least sixty people inside. Reaching the bar, he called the serving woman and ordered some ale and a bowl of stew. He'd much rather have mead, but ale was far more common and he was playing safe. He paid for what he had asked for and ate ravenously. He hadn't noticed before, but it was already late and he hadn't eaten all day.

While he ate, he observed the people. Some were clearly villagers, others, he could tell by the clothes, were travellers such as himself. And, to the corner, he saw a troop of soldiers. Amongst them was the one who had kindly provided him with gold, seeming not very happy. By now, he'd probably noticed his coin was gone. Dovahkiin did not regret stealing from them – the group's behavior disgusted him. They were loud, rude and brutal, disparaging with inappropriate words and gestures the women who passed by. He wondered why the women here were so submissive; back in Skyrim, those imbeciles would already be torn to pieces.

A small commotion in the corner caught his attention. Four men seemed to be intimidating another, who stood next to a woman, no doubt the reason of the quarrel. The youngster said something that made three out of the four back off. One of them, however, remained, defying him, looking for a fight. Dovahkiin perked up in interest. While the older man – a farmer, by the looks – was no doubt stronger, the boy had an aura around him that virtually shouted mage.

The boy spoke again diplomatically, and the man gave up. Disappointed he did not get to see a fight after all, Dovahkiin decided it was about time he'd moved on into his business. Calling to the serving woman, he spoke up.

"Say, what can you tell me about this land?"

She raised one eyebrow cryptically, as if questioning whether he was fooling around with her or just plain stupid.

"I am aware of how this sounds, but I hail from an isolated village and it is my first time away. I just needed some information."

Her other eyebrow went up, making her face a mask of cynical disbelief. Sighing, he put a couple of coins on the counter. She took them the started speaking. The land's name, apparently, was Alagaesia. They were in a city south of the Empire, and, further south, he'd find the independent province of Surda. To the north, there was the city of Dras-Leona, and in its east, the capitol, Urû'baen. Further north there were mountains and vast woodland, and the far east was covered by a desert. Then, taking glimpses towards the soldiers every five seconds, the woman told him about the king. He was, she said, a tyrant, and an immortal one at that.

Dovahkiin listened closely, for this sounded like it might be related to why he was here. Had he been brought to Alagaesia to free the people from this man, what was he called? Galbatorix. What a silly name. It was likely; she had said the king was a powerful sorcerer. The woman lowered her voice even more, so much that he had to inch closer to hear.

"There are rumors…well; they say the king has a dragon."

Aye. Definitively his task. Thinking furiously, he started to make up a plan to take him down. It basically consisted of getting to the capitol, killing the dragon, Fus Ro Dah-ing the castle walls down and killing the king. He could almost hear Brynjolf chiding him. Not a very bright lad, are you?

"He has also enlisted the help of another dragon and his rider, Thorn and Murtagh. I've seen them myself, flying over Eastcroft, terrifying, if I may add."

Well damn. That made things much more complicated, didn't it? He had no idea what she meant by "dragon rider". The words were self-explaining, of course, but the concept made no sense. A dragon rider? Dragons weren't horses. They wouldn't simply be ridden. He began plotting again. He'd have to lure out the dragons. Maybe he could set up a trap, make a huge rock fall from the sky to hit one of the dragons while he fought the other, or maybe –

"But there is still hope, sire! A rebellion has risen! They gather themselves in Surda, and there is word they even have a dragon rider of their own!"

…Or he could join the rebellion. It did seem better than facing down two dragons and two powerful sorcerers at the same time. The soldiers in the corner got up loudly. Quickly changing the subject, he asked her for a room. Paying and retrieving the key, he followed her directions.

He'd been in better places. He'd been in worse places too. He was just too tired to care. Barely getting out of his armor, he lay in bed, slipped under the covers and fell into a deep slumber.

Okay, first and foremost, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed. I love you guys.

This chapter was...blergh. Nothing really interesting happened; I'm sorry about that. It's just I had to insert the Dovahkiin into the Eragon world. The guy suddenly pops up in another world, he needs some time to get used to it. I also used this chapter to give him some background.

Also, about that, I regret saying I had to bend the lore a little. The reason is, the Dragonborn is just too powerful, and while it makes him fun to play with, if written about, it also makes him... a Sue. While writing this chapter I came upon a problem. Being a Nightingale is something that adds a power that, while being pretty cool, I find completely unnecessary. That much said, I effing love Nocturnal. She was one of the few daedra princes that did not act like a complete ass; I can't possibly just forget about her. So in this story, I have the Dragonborn complete the thieves guild questline without becoming a Nightingale. Everything goes exactly the same, except he doesn't get the fancy armor, weapons and new powers. Maybe Karliah didn't offer, maybe she did and Dovahkiin refused. Hopefully you guys won't be too furious about that.

Lastly, before the note gets too big, I'd like to ask about chapter length/ story pacing. I'm worried it might be too slow, since I just wrote four pages about virtually nothing.

That's all, I suppose. He'll meet Eragon in the next chapter, and I'll try to make it more interesting. Thanks for reading!