Perched atop the cliff, their eyes traced the vast expanse, a sprawling Whiterun in the distance, rivers meandering in multiple directions, roads branching north and south, and westward, the promising path toward Karthspire awaited their journey. The morning sun cast a warm glow, accompanied by the gentle caress of the wind, which played with their hair and clothes.

A soft chuckle escaped Finrod's lips in response to Lyras' question about teleportation. "I wish it worked that way," he remarked, a playful smile gracing his features. "I'll take the lead in guiding us down." With deliberate ease, Finrod navigated the cliffside, finding footholds with the familiarity of someone well-acquainted with the terrain. He turned back to face Lyra, extending a reassuring smile. "Follow my lead, and be cautious with each step."

As they descended, the world unfolded beneath them, a canvas of Skyrim's beauty. Finrod's guidance became a dance of shared glances and careful footing. The descent was not just a physical journey down the cliff but a subtle ballet, a duet between two souls on the cusp of a grand adventure. Finrod reached the bottom, turned and awaited Lyra to complete the decent, watching, trying to make sure she was safe on the climb down.