SKYRIM SPOILER ALERT:
This story describes the conclusion of the quest, 'The **** Queen Awakened' (name munged to prevent major plot spoiler).  If you have not yet completed this quest and do not want to know how it ends, please read no further.  Story based on actual fictional events.  (And for anyone paying attention, yes, the name 'R'havir' may have been slightly influenced by a Balmoran merchant.)

For my Thane: A Truthy Story
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"R'havir thinks these bones talk too much," muttered the grey-furred khajiit crouching in the leeway of an ancient arched doorway.  An endless font of arcane energy in the cavern beyond cast sharp, angry shadows; these concealing shadows would serve him well, he thought, if he meant to survive the next few terrible minutes.  Lydia, Housecarl to the shiftiest Thane in Skyrim, poked her heavily armoured head around the corner of the arch.  "I count four draugr," she mumured, "and a few sarcophagi not open yet.  I think we can handle this, my Thane.  I am ready for death or glory!"

"This one prefers glory.  R'havir thought that Lydia smelled ill omens within this tomb."  R'havir's tone was sharper than was strictly wise for one whose life hung upon his mastery of stealth.  Lydia jangled his nerves like she jangled the steel plates of her heavy armour.  How many times had her noisy Nord ways betrayed his sniping position?  A heavily armed and armoured guard complimented his deadly specialty well at times, true enough, but...

Well, they had somebody's attention now.  A particularly nasty-looking draugr was staring intently at the doorway, suspiciously eyeing the source of the grumbling conversation.  "Stay back," R'havir hissed as he hurriedly nocked an arrow and drew the exquisite moonstone and quicksilver bow he had completed just the previous day.  "Wait until they come too close!"  Lydia's ensorceled greatsword, raised in preparation to fight, flickered with a faint blue fire deadly to beings reliant on magicka - beings such as the freed spirit of the Wolf Queen Potema, whose ongoing threats of eternal undead servitude had left both adventurers' nerves somewhat frayed and their discipline perhaps a little bit sloppy.  The time for planning was over; the fight had begun.

R'havir's first arrow loosed, plunging through the wary draugr's throat and fatally disrupting its animus energies.  Two more draugr converged at the site of the unexpected death (if the word can be accurately applied to the undead), and they too were dispatched in rapid succession with arrows stolen from their fallen comrades within the catacombs.  The fourth, now aware of the location of the volley, charged with greatsword raised.  Its cleave, aimed at the lightly armoured archer, was intercepted by the sweep of Lydia's own blade.  As the dessicated revenant staggered backwards, recoiling from the failed stroke, Lydia carried the momentum of her sweep forward, spinning all the way around and cleaving the draugr in an explosion of dust and bone.

"That was easy enough!"  Lydia coughed, swaggering back to the open door with her sword slung casually over her shoulder.  R'havir groaned ruefully as his Housecarl sorely tempted misfortune; "Is this Wolf Queen really as bad as everyone thinks?"

"Well done, my servant!  But do not become overconfident..."  The covers of the remaining sarcophagi crashed to the floor as the sepulchral voice of Potema's awakened spirit faded, revealing three more draugr and... a figure more terrible, dressed in blackened steel plate and carrying an ebony battle axe.  At least, thought R'havir, it must be ebony; though he had never seen the extravagant dark glass before, nothing else could shine so brightly and so darkly all at once.  Any excitement he might have felt regarding the inestimable value of the weapon was more than tempered by the heavy razor-sharp edge.  No mere draugr, this one; they now faced one of the most feared of the undead denizens, a death lord.

R'havir let fly an arrow over the stunned Lydia's shoulder, pinning the nearest draugr, unmoving, to the back of its coffin.  A second arrow flew wide as he failed to sight a good shot past the heavy frame of Lydia's amour as she struggled to turn quickly in the confines of the archway.  A moment later Lydia cleared the door and charged into the cavern, sword raised high; her frenzied assault matched the two remaining draugr blow for blow, but R'havir could not find a clear shot as Death approached.  In seconds one draugr fell to Lydia's sword, just as the death lord entered the fray.  Her sword, flashing blue with each sweep, could scarcely deflect the powerful blows of the heavy axe as her armour absorbed - mostly - the punishment meted out by her lesser opponent.  One misstep, and that draugr also fell, an arrow penetrating its ribcage through and through.

But it was clear that Lydia was overmatched and weakening.  She and the death lord were much too close for a safe shot, but there was little choice and little time.  R'havir drew back his bowstring and held his breath, sighting the perfect shot and waiting for one second, two seconds...

Now.

The arrow flew even as Lydia cried, "For my Thane!" and launched herself recklessly at her powerful opponent... Directly into the line of fire.  The arrow pierced her right pauldron and buried itself deep in her shoulder, bringing her to her knees with a cry of pain.  The death lord raised its axe high and brought the butt of the handle crashing down on Lydia's helmet, sending her slumping to the stone floor, senseless.  It turned its head slowly, grinning horribly at the undefended khajiit still crouching in the doorway, and advanced fearlessly into a panicked hail of arrows.  One stroke with that terrible axe is all it would need...

Ten paces from the frantic R'havir, the greater draugr drew a putrid breath and screeched, "ZUN!"  The sound struck R'havir with staggering force that knocked his bow from his grip; his stunned mind struggled to grasp - that was a Thu'um!  Vision blurred by the terrible Shout, R'havir fumbled for the lost weapon, but he was out of time.  The destroyer would be upon him in a moment, and his new unlife as the vassal of the Wolf Queen would begin.  His mind could find only one thing to do.

"FUS!"  R'havir's own Shout struck the skeletal knight like a maul, staggering it backwards a couple of steps, buying just enough time for him to grab the bow and nock an arrow.  Then the death lord was over him, axe raised high above its head to deliver one killing stroke as it shrieked a cry of victory.

One shot, sniper.  One chance, before the end, to challenge the reaper and snatch life from the jaws of death.

Silently the headsman toppled backwards, the shaft of a stolen arrow protruding from its open maw.  The clatter of the axe on stone was deafening in that long, surreal moment.  R'havir crouched motionless for several seconds - was it really over?  The sparks of magicka filling the cavern faded and the apparition of Potema, their apparent source, retreated through a second archway at the opposite side.

Still somewhat dazed, but no less light-fingered, R'havir collected and stowed the precious ebony weapon in his pack and produced a powerful healing elixir.  He muttered, as he strode across the empty room, "R'havir thinks perhaps Lydia should just take up knitting."