Denebarided smiled as he slipped the newly enchanted ring onto his little finger. That made four in all: four rings enchanted with magical support; four rings named after each enchanting Nord lady who had shared his company since he had arrived in Skyrim.

First, on his index finger, and enchanted with a version of the Clairvoyance spell, was Camilla, who had bravely gathered up her skirts in one hand and a sword in the other to lead him to Bleak Falls Barrow. She had been terribly sad to return home to her dull brother, but Denebarided had managed to convince her that Lucan needed her guiding hand more than he did. (Though he had enjoyed her hands very much at night by the campfire, he reminisced fondly.)

Second, on his middle finger, enchanted with stamina, Ysolda, who had showed him things he never thought possible to do with the mammoth tusk he had gotten for her…

Third, on his ring finger–which, when she had seen it and raised an eyebrow, he had had to explain rather quickly meant nothing to him other than a keepsake in her honor and anyway wasn’t an amulet of Mara more significant to Nords–Lydia. Lydia, who had dropped his bedroll on the other side of the fire every night, but at least never in the fire. Lydia, who had readily accepted the key to Breezehome when he said he couldn’t be tied down to one place. He had enchanted this ring with the Feather spell, learned so long ago in Morrowind.

Fourth, the newest, and most fascinating, Uthgerd the Unbroken. Who had thrown down to fight when he bought her a drink. Denebarided had accepted, and been beaten repeatedly, much to the laughter of the Bannered Mare’s patrons (and unbridled delight on the part of one jealous bard). When he finally managed to take her to the floor, on the fifth night of their brawling, Uthgerd had simply gotten up, slammed back her mug of mead, and slung a pack over her shoulder, declaring that he at last was an adventurer worthy of her help.

Denebarided looked over at Uthgerd, who was hammering the latest dents out of her armor at the workbench. She was no beauty like Camilla, Ysolda, or Lydia, but she was a better pathfinder than the merchant and more loyal than the housecarl. He wouldn’t try to leave her behind just yet.