“I’m sworn to carry your burdens.” Lydia said as you handed her another ancient Nord sword. Now where did those sweetrolls go? You rummage through your pack after a particularly harrowing battle against the barrow’s undead inhabitants. Victory against the undead still sweet in your mind, “…now all I need is something sweet in my mouth,“ you lament after reaching the bottom of your pack. “If only I had bothered to burden Lydia with food too.” Suddenly, your eyes lock in a hungry gaze…

Ok, so this is where I almost started writing fan fiction about the Dragonborn and Lydia and things went a little bit off the rails, especially after that whole sweetroll/sweet things in my mouth bit…

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