I spent almost three days trekking over winding, snow-covered paths, hiking over mountains, and sneaking past Forsworn camps before I finally made it to Markarth.

It was late at night when I arrived. The guards at the gate stopped me. "You there, what business do you have in Markarth?"

"Please." I put on my best pleading face and made my voice crack and squeak. "I was attacked by the wild men, and they nearly killed me." Now I was thankful for the blood all over my armor. Made my lie more convincing. "I just need a place to stay."

"All right. Go on in." They opened the gates for me, one holding his arm towards the opening.

"Oh, thank you." I limped through the gates, but once they slammed shut behind me, I stood up straight and snickered.

Morons.

Now to get to Understone Keep. I walked through the torchlit streets, taking in all the sights. The city was made completely from stone, as if carved from the mountains it was nestled in. Gold and bronze accents made the gray stone a little less dull, the metals gleaming in the firelight. The towering structures all around me made me feel small. Insignificant. Unneeded. It reminded me of how unimportant I was when put to scale with the rest of the world. If I were to disappear, the world would keep turning. People would move on.

As if nearly dying did not teach me that lesson.

The guards were hesitant to let me into Understone Keep, but let me pass when I said I had a question for Calcelmo. They told me that I would find him in the cavern to the left, then let me pass.

The Keep was cold and damp, like a cave. In fact, the entrance resembled a cave. It had moss hanging from the ceiling and torches set up in random sconces on the walls. I followed the guards' instructions and took the first left, entering into a massive cavern complete with an underground river. I was quite surprised by the size. And I had to admit, after looking at it long enough, it possessed a unique beauty.

I stopped staring at my surroundings and instead focused on the man wearing simple mage robes. He had his back to me, and was hunched over a table. He did not seem to notice me.

"Excuse me." The man did not move. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Excuse me."

He spun around, anger evident on his bearded face. "What are you doing here? This excavation site is closed. I don't need anymore guards or workers." He waved his hand back towards the way I came in. "Now, please, off with you."

"I was looking for you, actually."

"I told you I'm not hiring any more guards. Why do you people always bother me when I'm trying to finish my research? You idiot. Do you even know who I am? The most recognized scholar on the Dwemer in all of Tamriel, and you people keep bothering me!"

I reeled back, genuinely hurt. He did not even know who I was, and he called me an idiot. "I... I...."

He sighed and held up one hand to stop my stuttering. "I... I'm sorry I... I got too excited. I'm in the middle of some very... stressful work, and I shouldn't have yelled. How can I help you?"

"Well, sir, you see...." I shifted my balance from one foot to the other. After having this man yell at me, saying he was the most recognized scholar on the Dwemer, I figured I could use his ego to my advantage. Acting like a starstruck admirer of his work might do the trick. "I've come all the way from Winterhold to see you."

"See me?" He blushed under his beard. "Dear child, what for?"

"I admire your research, and I was wondering, could I... I mean, would you allow me to see your newest studies?"

"I'm afraid not." He shook his head. "I'm sure you understand that I must guard my secrets."

I let my head fall. "But I'm a great admirer of your work. You won't believe what I went through to get here. I stumbled into a Forsworn camp, and they nearly killed me." I pointed to the holes in my armor, and the heavy blood stains. "Please, great sir."

I watched, having to fight off a grin, as he caved. "What kind of a mentor would I be if I denied a potential student a glimpse at her master's ingenuity? Here," He held out a small bronze key, "this key will provide access to my museum. Feel free to browse for as long as you wish. However, I must insist that my laboratory remains strictly off limits."

I took the key in shaking hands, faking an awed smile. "Oh, sir, thank you! Thank you! This makes all the trouble I went through to get here worth it! I won't ever forget this!"

I skipped away, listening to him chuckle. When I got within sight of the museum, I stopped skipping and became serious. I hoped that the guards inside would leave me alone. If not, I could sneak past them. If I could not do that, I would have to run and hide. Fighting was not an option.

The guard standing at the door let me pass when I showed him the key Calcelmo had given me. I realized as I went inside that my Bosmeri blood had done me good back there with the scholar. Had I looked my age, he may not have listened to my plea. My youthful looks had given me the ticket in.

Maybe it's not all bad to be a hybrid.

The museum was full of incredible things such as old Dwarven automaton parts and mechanisms that did who-knew-what. I would have loved to stay and admire the artifacts left behind by my distant elven cousins, but I had a job to do. I had to get back to Winterhold with the translation so I could go home.

I had to sneak past guards to get into the lab. They did not even notice me as I slipped into the "off-limits" section. I grinned. This was what I enjoyed about being a thief: the thrill of excitement down my spine as I slipped past unsuspecting guards or broke into a locked case without being seen. It was one of the greatest feelings ever, and I never got tired of feeling it.

Entering the laboratory, I noticed a few more people walking around the room. They must have been those guards Calcelmo mentioned. I doubted that would take kindly to seeing me, so I would have to slip past them.

I made it through the first room without a problem. These people were not the smartest, but then again, how smart were they supposed to be? They were probably hired for their brawn and not their brain.

After nearly getting lost going down a few more halls, I came to a place with two of the guards standing in my way. On the wall next to me was a red wheel, which I turned without hesitation. I wanted to see what it would do. Maybe it would distract the guards well enough for me to sneak past them.

I did not expect it to trigger some spinning bronze blades that would slice the guards to ribbons right in front of me.

Now on the verge of throwing up, I pushed the wheel back into the position it was in and hurried past the carnage. I came into a lower area that would lead me safely to the other side, but it was filled with bright green gas. The moment I got too close, my lungs burned, my heart ached, and my eyes watered. I backed away and looked around the floor. Bodies littered it, some new, some old, and some turned to nothing but bones. Hand over my mouth, I hurried through the gaseous room, as fast as my weakened legs could carry me. By the time I made it to the other side, I had to lean against the wall and catch my breath. I pressed a hand over my bandaged chest and groaned. Those fumes had packed a punch. I hoped not to come across anything else like that.

Once I recovered, I left the hall of death behind me and padded up the ramp leading to safety. When I cast a glance to the other end of the upper hall, I saw the blood stains and body parts that were once a pair of hapless guards. I tried not to think about their deaths as I moved on.

After more guard-dodging, I came to a room that overlooked a sort of research area. Several people, mostly guards, milled around. One man in black mage robes stalked around barking orders.

"If you don't do this right, Uncle Calcelmo will have my head!" he yelled, leaning over a table laden with various types of Dwarven construct scraps.

To my right sat another wheel. Should I pull it? What if it did something like the last one? What if it killed everyone down there? On the other hand, I needed to get past them, and there was no way I could sneak past all of them.

With a pang of regret, I turned the wheel.

Instantly, a shock wave blasted from the pit and knocked me off my feet. My ears rang, my vision pulsed, my heart hammered. I lay still as I watched the man in now-flaming robes race to the stairs, ignoring me, and sprint away. I got to my feet and turned the wheel again. I was thankful I had not seen what horrors I unleashed.

I went down the stairs leading to the pit. Everywhere lay dead guards and broken pieces of whatever it was they were guarding. I sidestepped the bodies and went to the door. I tried pulling it open, only to find it locked.

I groaned and began searching the destroyed room for a key. As I looked by the back wall, I spotted a strange cube that had miraculously not been harmed by whatever it was I had unleashed. I took it off its stand and shoved it into my satchel. An odd little trinket. Something that Del would appreciate.

After finding no key lying around, I decided to search the nearest body. I dug through the man's pockets, found a key, then stood to unlock the door.

I came into a plain, stone room full of crumbled rocks and Dwemer architecture. Above me was a platform, and in the center of the platform was a large tablet. Even from this distance, I could tell that I needed whatever was on that tablet. That had to be the translation key.

Without wasting time, I ran up a set of stairs to my left, finding a room full of charcoal and paper. Perfect. I took a large scrap of paper as well as a few charcoal pieces and went through a doorway to my right. Past the doorway was the tablet. I pressed the paper over the tablet and began rubbing the charcoal over it. I smiled, seeing the etchings in the tablet being rubbed into the paper.

"All right, everyone," said a deep voice coming from below, "Calcelmo wants this place secure. After what happened to his nephew, he's not taking any chances. And don't forget to look for the sneak thief."

I gulped. Time to go.

Once I had enough of the translation, I threw the remaining bit of charcoal aside, carefully rolled the paper up and stuffed it in my satchel, then ran like a bat out of Oblivion for the exit.

I came out into the open, overlooking most of Markarth. I cursed myself for running out without thinking. I could try to go back in, but those guards were swarming. I had already pushed my luck once. I doubted I could avoid them all for a second time.

I followed the stony path over Markarth to a ledge overlooking a waterfall. The cascading water flowed into a small stream. How deep, I could not tell. This was my only way down, though.

I turned back, hands gripping the strap to my satchel, and started to go back the way I came. But voices of guards stopped me. Even though I could not see them, I knew it would not be long before they were on top of me.

I looked at my satchel, made sure the flap was closed tight. I really hoped the translation would not get wet.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and jumped.

Falling was a strange sensation. For a moment, you hung suspended in the air. Weightless. Then, gravity took hold and pulled you back towards the ground, where you would be smashed to pieces.

But I was not smashed to pieces. I splashed into freezing water.

Eyes flying open, I kicked off the bottom of the stream and swam for the surface. I broke through the water and gasped for breath. I used my legs and good arm to swim for the stream's edge, having to use only one arm to pull myself from the water.

For a moment, I sat on the bank, stunned. I glanced up the waterfall, seeing the ledge from which I jumped. The fall should have killed me. But I survived.

I opened my satchel, and I laughed at what I saw. The inside was completely dry. The translation was safe. I could hardly believe it.

"Enthir, you're welcome," I said out loud, earning a strange look from a passerby. As if a soaking wet, elf-Nord hybrid sitting on the river back laughing at nothing was not crazy enough.

I stood up, shaking excess water off my clothes, and made my way to the city's entrance. I needed to get back to Winterhold quickly. Perhaps this time I could take the carriage. It would be expensive, but worth it if I could cut some time off my journey. Plus, I did not want to worry about being chased by madmen in the Reach again.

"What can I do for you, miss?" asked the Nord carriage driver outside Markarth.

I held up a coin purse. "Winterhold, please. And I need to get there as soon as possible."

He nodded and took the coin purse. He opened it, counted each coin, then jerked his head to the back. "Get in."

I climbed into the carriage and leaned back. The driver got his horse moving, and soon, we were cantering down the rocky, hilly path towards Winterhold.