Another day, another bag of gold, thought Frodnar as he picked up another heavy log and carried towards the mill. This is what he did every hour of every day of every month of every year since he was ten. He was now twenty five. It wasn't glamorous being a lumberjack, but it helped put food on the table for him and his family.

"How is the stock looking, son?" Asked his dad. Frodnar's father – Hod - was a large burly man, with a thick barrel chest and large muscular arms. Though he was the size of a bear, his father was a kind and gentle man who loved his son and wife Gerdur very dearly. He was also very old, with a greying beard and white hair, and a heavily wrinkled face. He had inherited the mill, and was currently sawing the large trunks into smaller blocks of firewood to be traded in Whiterun.

"We've got twenty logs left, dad" Frodnar shouted over the drone of machinery and wood being sawed.

"Good! If we're fast, we should be able to have the wood ready to cart off to the market tomorrow!" Smiled Hod, as the log was split in two and fell neatly alongside a tree stump where the halves would be cut up into smaller blocks. He went his way to the stump, picked up his axe and was about to start doing this task, when he fell to the ground suddenly without making a sound. Frodnar saw this and ran to his father's side.

"Father?! FATHER! PLEASE! SOMEONE GET THE HEALER!"

oo0oo

A couple of hours afterwards, Frodnar went back to work with a heavy heart. His father was alright, he merely passed out from the all the hard work he had been doing, a by product of his aging. However, it also meant that his father could no longer work at the mill and was forced to retire. That meant that Frodnar would eventually have to hire help to run the mill, but for the moment, he was alone. He had shifted most of the stock, and it was ready to be shipped out. He just had five more logs to carry to the mill.

However, he was also starting to get really fatigued. The combination of the hot summer and extra work had really taken it out of the young lumberjack. Before he even reached the mill, the heel of his boot slipped on the varnished cobblestone, making him fall hard to the ground, with the log landing on his leg. Frodnar cried out in pain and tried to move the heavy log, but his strained arm muscles refused to cooperate, and the boy lay there for a minute in pain before a large figure loomed over him.

"Need a hand there, lad?"

Before Frodnar could respond, he saw the large figure walk around from behind him, and pick off the log with ease, before attending to Frodnar's leg. The man was clad in iron armour from head to toe, with a giant great sword hanging off his back. Frodnar couldn't tell, but it was almost as if the blade was made from…bone?

"You're lucky, boy, you didn't break anything, but it's going to hurt for a while. Can you walk?" The large stranger politely asked, offering his hand to Frodnar. Frodnar accepted the man's offer, and got up. Despite a large pain in his shin, he could stand properly, but was only able to do a fast limp at best. Frodnar cursed silently under his breath.

"What was that, lad?" The man asked curiously.

"Oh…Nothing, sir. I just slipped. Now please excuse me, I need to finish my work,"

"No problem. I can help you with that," The large man picked up the fallen log without breaking a sweat and put it on his shoulder, balancing it.

"Besides, I don't think you're in any shape to be carrying these logs," Frodnar would have argued with the man, but a voice in his head silently agreed. He was having enough trouble as it was walking around normally.

"So…where do you need this?"

And so the pair silently coordinated an effort between them. While the stranger carried the logs towards the mill and activated the mechanism to saw them in half, Frodnar took charge of chopping them up even further. The stranger even helped with putting the finished wood onto the cart fro transportation. However, they didn't speak a word until after they had finished. By the time everything was all ready for shipping, the sun had set and the moons had begun to rise.

"Well… thank you, sir," Frodnar said as outstretched his hand, genuinely grateful for the help.

"It's no bother, lad, I needed a workout anyway," smiled the large man, before giving a huge heart laugh.

"I can pay you for your-"

"It's no worries, boy. You're Hod's son, and Hod helped me out when I was in need."

This surprised Frodnar he looked up at the large man and was about to ask a question but the stranger spoke first.

"Well, I best be off. Take care of yourself." And with that, he released Frodnar's hand and was started jogging off towards Whiterun. But before he could get too far, Frodnar shouted out at him.

"WAIT! WHO ARE YOU?" Shouted Frodnar.

"YOUR DAD KNOWS ME AS FAMILY. MOST FOLK KNOW ME AS DRAGONBORN!" And with that, the dragonborn waved his hand and continued on his journey, leaving the young Frodnar dumbfounded.

(Notes: Just a short flash fic/ one shot I had an idea for, no more and no less. I hope you guys enjoy it and ADIOS!)