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When the storms finally broke, the northern passes of Skyrim were blanketed in a new coat of pure white snow, the air was biting cold, but the sun was warm and the motley crew of unlikely companions abandoned their shack and braved the long ride toward the Mill Tavern. They stopped in Dragon Bridge long enough to sell off the horses they'd acquired for the ride south, divided the coin, and waited for Duncan to reconcile his contract with the Legion Captain there before they resumed their trek on foot, leading Odin and Jack's grullo colored pinto, Galleon, by their reins along the faintly trodden path. When the Mill Tavern finally came into view, even those who were looking upon her for the first time felt the outreaching of sanctuary calling them home. Tucked away from the prying eyes of the occasional Legion patrol, her mark missing from any map, the Mill Tavern sheltered all who found their way to her door. "What a remarkable place for a den of thieves and brigands," Jack mused, "I feel right at ease already." "Duncan!" a youthful voice greeted cheerily as Ferrin spotted them coming up the road. The stable boy ran to meet them to collect Galleon and Odin from their masters, "Ghost has been here for ages, I turned him out in the high field you were gone so long!" "Well he's probably good and fat then," Duncan laughed, "he's enjoying it I'm sure, thank you lad." Duncan introduced his companions to the boy before he hurried off to tend his new charges then lead their sauntering march inside. When they walked in the door of the tavern they were washed over by the warm spice of meat braising on the spits, the sweet bouquet of hops and honey from the meadery in back, and the lingering swirls of tobacco from the pipe smoke wafting through the air. A traveling minstrel had taken up residence and was playing and singing merrily to himself near the fire. Travelers and residents were scattered around the large main hall, though Duncan saw none of the usual familiar faces among them. There was a young Khajiiti girl sitting at the table nearest the kitchen; a mug was clutched in her hands but she didn’t drink and seemed nervous. A group of merchants, slightly tipped into their mugs, bantered and laughed raucously as they teased the nearest serving wench. A large figure sat in an armchair in a quiet nook by the window, sipping a hot mug and perusing a dusty tome; his hood obscured his features but his size meant he was a Northman, or an Orc, though the latter seldom sought the company of those not their kin. Another Khajiit, this one much darker and male, loomed in a shadowed corner table, taking the occasional drag from a long pipe as his eyes scanned the room. There was no sign of William, Red, Grond, or even Carter; it was a strange homecoming to see so few friends at the hearth. Balow appeared behind the bar, stopping when he saw them standing in the entryway; his mouth fell agape and he slapped the bar, "Sigur get out here!” he suddenly shouted over his shoulder, “You won't believe who's just come in! You owe me twenty drakes you old skinflint!" his brother in-law appeared from the back and looked at the companions just as dumbly. "We thought you were dead," he told Duncan when he finally found his voice, fishing twenty drakes from his pocket and passing them to Balow's greedy waiting hand without tearing his bewildered gaze from them. Duncan approached the counter and sat down on one of the wooden barstools, "We nearly were a few times, but uh, I paid out the year, you lads didn't rent out my room did you?" They exchanged a glance, "Not to worry he checked out this morning, we'll have your things brought back from the basement," Balow answered with a grin, "Of course there's room for any who need it, but why don't we pour some ale first to celebrate your return...on Sigur!" he added, slapping the twenty drakes down on the bar. As the ale flowed into cold mugs the minstrel took his cue to begin playing round the room in earnest. Jack bartered with the tavern masters for a room in exchange for some coin and silver baubles he had in his pack. Jayna did the same from her own purse, paying out for a few weeks. She didn’t know how long she would stay, but it seemed for a time she was meant to be in Duncan’s company again. Raurke and Mallory took their leave, quietly slipping unnoticed down the back stairs to the lower corridor of rooms. Duncan drank long from his tankard, before he turned to face the room and leaned back against the bar. It was good to be home. Jack backhanded him on the bicep, “Fancy a game?” the rogue asked, brandishing a deck of cards. “Alright,” the Imperial agreed, “but I’ll deal." "Better let me," Jayn interrupted, snatching the deck from Jack's hand, as they fell around a table with a laugh. The more the minutes passed, the more they were home and the cold dark of the days that had brought them there began to fade into memory.

I'd give it another year just to be sure. I'm sure Dawnguard won't be the last DLC they release. I generally don't buy games until they've been out for awhile, Mass Effect 3 being one of the few exceptions. I bought it after the price dropped about $20 and I wanted something new to play. I'm pretty sure Bethesda has gotten Skyrim to where it's stable, but it's up to you whether or not you want to deal with updating mods as new patches/DLCs come out or just wait until the whole shebang is out. We're waiting for the later.

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