Coward Dragonborn

You should have acted.

They're already here.

The Elder Scrolls told of their return.

Their defeat was merely a delay.

Til the time after Oblivion opened.

When the sons of Skyrim would spill their own blood.

But no one wanted to believe,

Believe they even existed.

And when the truth finally dawns,

It dawns in fire.

But there's one they fear...

Or not. I mean, have you seen that man? He's such a coward.

QQQ

Hjoldir was a typical Nord. He was tall, he was intimidating and he was strong. Always carrying an axe whenever he went, he was something of a legend. It wasn't a wonder after all because he had slain hordes of trolls, cleared many lairs of vicious bears and beaten squads of arrogant Thalmor soldiers.

However, he wasn't the dragonborn. No. That honour belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn't actually honourable. It was Hamvir the Coward. He was thin and frail, being quite a disgrace to his family since he had never wielded a sword in battle.

Right now, he was standing in the mountains with the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil straight in front of him. He was indecisive as anxiety was gnawing at his thoughts, controlling his snapping movements. At one time, he extended his hand, biting his lips in fear, but then he retracted it and began stepping around anxiously.

Yet why? What was his problem? What was making him so unsure and confounded? It was a simple dilemma. A sweet roll was lying there on the ground, but sadly it was on the other side of the border.

He felt an urge to satiate his appetite, yet he was afraid that venturing past the imaginary line would mean a transgression that would cost him greatly. It was so close yet so far. A tasty treat that was almost within his reach.

Come on, he thought to himself, what could possibly go wrong? Who would be a witness to this little wrongdoing? It seemed that he finally managed to convince his guilty self to give in to his needs.

He did it. He set foot on the other side, laughing deep in his mind that he was a rebel that broke the law. Yet just as he was leaning for the sweet roll, four Imperial soldiers emerged out of nowhere, yelling like angry forsworn.

He regretted his decision instantly, but there was no time for being bitter. In fact, there wasn't even time to defend. Not that he would have done so anyway. They knocked him unconscious with a single blow.

QQQ

When Hamvir woke up, he found himself sitting on a carriage with his hands tied. It didn't prevent him from attempting to scratch an aching spot on his head. It was where he had been hit.

"Hey, you! You're finally awake," a muscular man called Ralof spoke. He was the typical image of a Nord. Long fair hair, well-built and strong arms. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

He was seated opposite Hamvir, closer to the steed that was towing the cart through a snowy landscape.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell," the thief, Lokir, that sat besides the able-bodied man voiced his opinion, then turned towards Hamvir. "You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," Ralof objected.

"Shut up back there!" snarled the Imperial soldier that rode the horse.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" Lokir wondered, his eyes laid upon a gagged individual in a cloak seated next to the coward.

"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion," Lokir was surprised before coming to a grim realization. "But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof replied in a sad tone.

"Sovngarde?" Hamvir joined in the discussion, up until now frightened to the point of being unable to respond. "Does this mean we will die?"

"General Tullius. Sir, the headsman is waiting," spoke a distant voice, implying that their fate was indeed bleak. They were approaching the gates of Helgen.

"So it's true? But I don't want to die!" Hamvir lamented aloud, prompting Ralof to give him a stare of contempt.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," Lokir despaired.

The strong Nord only shook his head in disbelief, but then as they entered the settlement, his interest was piqued by the sight of a weathered Imperial debating with an Altmer. "Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor," he said with disgust. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

"I don't care if any elves have anything to do with this, I just wanted a sweet roll!" Hamvir protested. "Just because it was on the other side of the border, I have to die? That's so unfair!"

Ralof placed his tied hands flat across his forehead. It was too much for him. The Stormcloak warrior simply couldn't believe he had met such a man, if Hamvir could be called that at all.

The coward, however, didn't care what the opinion of him was. He wished to live even if it meant being heralded a craven. His heartbeat was uncontrollable as he tried to figure out a way out of this mess. Slow time, make people look away or something. His ideas were mad though and none of them would work. He was so preoccupied with the fear of his death that he didn't realize they were almost there.

"Why are we stopping?" Lokir asked, his voice full of fright.

"Why do you think? End of the line," Ralof replied as the carriage came to a halt in a small courtyard with a chopping block nearby and a tower behind it. There was the headsman, a hulking brute wielding a bloodied axe.

How many heads had been severed from the bodies of men and women by his hands? How many had lost their lives to his murderous swing? Hamvir gulped and it felt like he was ingesting a poison.

All the prisoners rose up apart from him, but he quickly caught up with their example, still being a fearing man that hoped luck would shine upon him somehow.

"No!" the thief shouted as he hopped off the cart. "Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Please! I just wanted a sweet roll!" the cowardly Nord added.

"Face your deaths with some courage, you two," Ralof reprimanded them.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" Lokir was persistent in his pleas. However, Hamvir was silent, terror having taken over his soul and paralyzing him.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," barked an annoying female Imperial officer that was in front of the prisoners.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Widhelm," Hadvar spoke. He was a soldier of the Empire standing besides the woman. The gagged man complied with the order and walked off to the headsman.

"Ralof of Riverwood," Hadvar continued and the warrior Nord followed. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No!" the thief suddenly shouted, running away like a rabbit. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

"Halt!" the Imperial officer yelled after him, turning to her subordinates swiftly afterwards. "Archers!"

A single arrow pierced the runaway's back, cleaving through like a knife through butter, causing him to drop down motionless.

That sight frightened Hamvir. His heart almost jumped out of his chest, his eyes unable to hold the tears anymore.

"Wait. You there, step forward," Hadvar addressed him.

"I'm going to die," the coward whispered to himself, wiping his wet face. He knew he had to conform otherwise he would meet the same fate as Lokir.

"Who are you?" the soldier curiously asked as he observed him with confusion.

"I... I... just wanted a sweet roll," he sobbed, his words muffled by sorrow.

"What?"

"I wanted a sweet roll," he cried like a baby. "A sweet roll. Why do I have to die because of a sweet roll?"

"Whatever. He goes to the block," the Imperial officer replied mercilessly.

"I'm sorry," Hadvar responded with regret. "Follow the Captain, prisoner."

"But..." he protested for the last time, yet did as told. The evil woman then paced towards the chopping block where both soldiers and those sentenced to die were standing.

Amongst them, there were two interesting people though. The Jarl of Windhelm and General Tullius. While the former was gagged and couldn't speak, the latter had the upper hand and wasn't hesitant to exploit it. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos..."

"But I just wanted a sweet roll," Hamvir sobbed, falling to his knees and praying in front of the weathered Imperial.

"By Talos, what an idiot," Ralof couldn't hold his contempt anymore.

"Who is this man? By the divines, off with him!" Tullius responded.

"Please! I don't want to die! Please!" Hamvir pressed on, trying to wrap himself around the general's leg in order to beg for mercy. Yet strong arms grabbed him from behind, dragging him away.

Suddenly, a distant roar reached the ears of everyone present, prompting one of the Imperials to wonder. "What was that?"

"Please, please! Why do I have to die for a sweet roll?" the craven screamed.

"It's nothing. Carry on and behead that Nord before I get a headache."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the officer replied as the brutish hands pushed the thin Nord to the chopping block.

"No!" he shouted when he saw the cold steel floating above him, held in the grasp of the headsman.

Yet then in a twisted weave of fate, a monster emerged from behind remote mountains, swooping in with enormous speed and landing on top of the tower. It caused a tremor that knocked down the headsman as well as the soldiers that were keeping him pinned to the ground. It was a dragon.

Chaos ensued afterwards when the beast thundered, toppling everyone present. It all happened so fast. Towers and walls were crumbling as the creature ravaged Helgen, setting fire to anything made of wood and breaking everything else.

"Get up! Come on! The gods won't give us another chance!" Ralof yelled at Hamvir, who immediately located the strong Nord.

The craven knew that it was trouble. He rose up and darted towards the fair-haired man, who rushed through a nearby door that led to a tower still standing despite the besieged the settlement was caught in a fiery storm.

Hamvir followed in and the insurgent swiftly closed the door shut, lending them the much desired respite. The coward was terribly afraid, but he was alive. Speechless and shocked, but alive.

"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof wondered, prompting the frail individual to glance around and realize that the leader of the rebellion was next to him.

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric Stormcloak commented, but then another of the dragon's thundering shouts echoed throughout whole Helgen, causing the place to tremble. "We need to move, now!"

Those words woke Hamvir up from his confusion. Adrenaline was pumped into his veins when he recognized that he was struggling for survival.

"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof yelled and they both rushed upstairs where an insurgent was instantly killed by the beast that crushed the walls with a mere touch of its head.

"Get back!" the fair-haired Nord barked as he grabbed Hamvir's arm and pulled him back to the stairs. In a second, the creature bathed the room in scorching fire. They were lucky to be far enough, but traces of heat reached them nevertheless.

Thankfully, the dragon didn't seem to be interested in carrying on with razing the tower and flew away, giving them the chance to continue with their escape. They got to the newly created opening in the walls that allowed them to glance outside and witness the decimated Helgen from above. The once proud settlement was reduced to rubble and debris, yet there still were soldiers that battled the evil monster despite the insurmountable odds.

"See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

"Are you mad? It's too far! I'll break a leg!"

"By Talos, just do it!" Ralof shouted, but figured out that the coward wouldn't do a thing and thus decided to push him.

"Whaaaa..." Hamvir screamed as he fell, crashing into the weakened wooden floor. It was a miracle that he landed without fracture.

However, there was no time to waste. With the dragon flying around and incinerating everything that moved, he realized that he was an easy target and had to get out as fast as possible.

He got up and climbed down from the first floor to the ground. He spotted the soldier that had called the prisoners out, now standing by an elderly individual along with a child. He wanted to join, but then he felt frightened that the man in service of the Legion wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

But where was he supposed to go? The beast let itself be known once again as it hurtled dangerously near Hamvir. It made him rise up and rush to the warrior, ignoring his previous fears.

"Still alive, prisoner?" the soldier spoke upon noticing the coward. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."

"Yes, please get me out of here!"

"Gunnar, take care of the boy, I have to find General Tullius and join the defence," the man addressed the elder.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," was the response as the soldier rushed out with the craven in his steps.

Together they reached a narrow path with a wall on their left and a house on their right, providing them with cover. Suddenly, the dragon landed nearby, sending flames to all sides. The monster was so near, Hamvir could see its right wing resting merely a few inches above his hair. Thankfully, it lifted off shortly afterwards and headed out, preparing for another attack.

"Quickly, follow me!" the soldier yelled as he hurried towards remains of burnt down buildings, navigating the maze they created with the coward behind. They entered a spacious courtyard where lots of Imperials were gathered, some wounded, some trying to shoot the beast and some running around in confusion.

"Hadvar! Into the keep soldier, we're leaving!" shouted none other than General Tullius.

"It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!"

"Alright! Alright! Just help me!" Hamvir screamed as he accompanied his saviour out in the open, passing through an arch in the walls. They arrived at an entrance to the Helgen fortress, meeting with the fair-haired Nord.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar snarled angrily upon the sight of the Stormcloak.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time," the rebel answered, putting the coward before a dilemma. Who to follow? As both soldiers rushed towards a distinct door, he had to decide.

The choice was obvious though. The Imperials had wanted to execute him. What if they resumed their effort once they reached safety? No. He wasn't running for his life only to fall into a trap. That is why he chose to go with Ralof.

They entered a circular room with tapestries symbolizing the empire. Across the place, there was a stuffed head of a deer on the wall and a small table below. Besides the latter was a corpse of a well-built rebel soldier. The insurgent hurried to it, stopping just by to check whether there was anything he could have done to help his comrade. He couldn't, however. The man was dead.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother," Ralof spoke as he knelt in respect, then rose up and turned back to Hamvir. "Look's like we're the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon. No doubt."

"And it almost killed me!" the craven commented, trying to shake off the shock.

The Stormcloak sighed. "We better get moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

The thin Nord complied as the rebel unsheathed his dagger. Yet the sight of cold steel suddenly made Hamvir uneasy. "Are you sure what you are doing?"

"Absolutely. Now stand still."

"But what if you miss? What if you hit me?"

"By Talos, will you stop whining?" Ralof was annoyed, but with a single swing of his weapon, the ties were cut into two and the feeble man was free. "There you go. You might as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it anymore."

For a moment, Hamvir glanced at the strapping Nord, finding it unlikely that the blue leather armour would fit him.

"His gear? But he is at least twice as large as I am!"

"It's better than nothing. You'll just tighten the belt some more and you'll be good to go. Now come on, we don't have much time."

"But my prisoner clothes are alright!"

"They might be, but if someone swings a greatsword at you, they won't protect you at all."

"Swings a sword? Gods... no! Ralof, please, help me!"

"Calm down. Just grab the gear and you'll fine."

Hamvir was shaken and shocked, but that wore off as he dressed up. The armour was hanging loose on him, making it hard for him not to trip, yet he was convinced that he was safe. However, he was terribly wrong.

"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Ralof warned the coward, who suddenly felt threatened again. Behind the nearest gate that led into another section of the keep, there were two legionnaires marching towards them.

"Oh no! Oh no!" Hamvir cried in terror. He should have gone with Hadvar. He should have escaped alone. Now they would find him. They would chop his head off. A fate that he worked so hard to avoid.

"Get that gate open!" shouted a commanding female voice. It was familiar to the craven. It was the officer that had overseen his failed execution!

Panic took over him. He didn't care that his Stormcloak friend readied himself for an ambush. He didn't care that his mad running around would reveal them. He just wanted to get out. That is why he reached the entrance and opened the door.

Yet the sight before him scared him to the bone. There was the dragon standing in the courtyard, facing the keep with its eyes locked firmly on the Nord and striking terror into his heart. It drew breath, preparing to incinerate the man.

Instinctively, he jumped aside at the very last second, dodging the fiery inferno. But the Imperials that had entered the room in the meantime weren't as lucky. They were caught in the middle of the fire, their shiny armour unable to cover them from being pinned to the wall and burnt to crisp by the oppressing flames.

Thankfully for Ralof, who had been fighting them, he was far enough. Yet now that the dragon paused, he realized that it did so only to reach out with its enormous jaws and chew on them alive.

He swiftly leapt to the entrance and shut it close, lowering a wooden board that prevented anyone outside from forcing their way in. The beast hit the door with all it strength, causing tremor and quake across the fort, but it withheld.

"Quick! Before the dragon brings this whole building down! One of these Imperials surely must have a key to that gate!" Ralof shouted as he pointed towards metal bars that blocked their path.

However, Hamvir rose up from the ground but that didn't mean he recovered from the shock. He was shaking like he was freezing to death, overwhelming fear gnawing deep at his mind.

"Gah... no use!" the fair-haired Nord snarled angrily as he proceeded to search the corpses for a key while the monster tried to barge in again and again. Fortunately for both living men, the rebel found it.

Without saying a word, he reached the gate and unlocked it, rushing inside. Even though the coward was shaken, he was aware that he had to follow if he wanted to stay alive. Together they entered a winding corridor, descending deeper into the keep as a thundering echo resounded behind their backs.

The beast had finally forced its way in. Yet the circular room was devoid of any living soul much to its confusion. It withdrew, not understanding the trickery, using one of its claws to scratch its head in wonder.

Meanwhile, the duo had reached a door that Ralof wished to take despite the apparent noise coming from within. The hallway continued forth, they could have walked that path, Hamvir contemplated silently.

"Wait! What if there are enemy soldiers beyond!" he protested.

"We can take them on," the brave Nord responded fearlessly.

"That's suicide!" the craven objected.

"Grab everything and let's... wait! What is that sound?" echoed a voice from behind the door.

"Oh no! We're dead! We're dead!" the coward cried, panic once again taking over him. He rushed to the stairs without thinking.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Ralof yelled after him, choosing to pursue him.

"Damn it, which way did they go?" the mysterious person from the room cursed as he stood in the Nords' former place.

Not even a minute had passed and the rage of the monstrous being outside caused the ceiling next to the door collapse, preventing anyone from continuing through the corridor and forcing them to venture into the door.

The quake was so overwhelming that it made Hamvir trip and fall over his spacious clothing. Yet it allowed the rebel to catch up and lend him a hand.

"Don't do that again!" he reprimanded the coward as he helped him get back to his feet.

"Alright," the craven agreed reluctantly.

"Good. Now let's go!" Ralof commanded and the duo resumed their route, spotting bodies of two Imperial soldiers buried beneath the newly created rubble.

They went through the door and entered a vast place filled with barrels and crates. However, they had lost so many precious minutes that there was no moment to scrounge for supplies. They continued instead, leaving the room and emerging into another hallway that led them further down.

Yet much to Hamvir's dismay, he could hear the clattering of steel and the hissing of electricity resounding in the distance. It meant only one possible thing. There was a fight. While Ralof bravely charged into the battle, the craven stayed behind the corner that divided him from being in the line of sight of enemies.

He peeked beyond and witnessed there was a torture room. Prison cages were standing in the open and motionless corpses lied within. Not everyone was dead though. There were Imperial soldiers struggling against a group of Stormcloaks, but it was a piece of cake for the rebels that effortlessly put down their adversaries.

The coward observed the skirmish to its end, ensuring that the scene was safe for him to enter.

"Was Jarl Ulfric with you?" Ralof asked his comrades.

"No, I haven't seen him since the dragon showed up," a rebel replied.

"Hey. Why don't you help us next time we fight, huh?" the fair-haired Nord turned to Hamvir.

"I... alright," the craven agreed, though deep in his mind he hoped the opportunity wouldn't arise.

"Fine. Now grab that sword lying on the ground and be ready," Ralof said and Hamvir did as instructed, grasping the blade in his right hand while the left held his pants so that they wouldn't fall off.

They advanced through the prison, navigating a narrow hallway and entering yet another section of the dreary dungeon. They walked past cells and cages filled with mutilated bodies and skeletons, making the coward shudder at the vision of him being there. The prospect of a swift death suddenly seemed so peaceful and calm to him. Perhaps he had been lucky after all, having been scheduled for beheading. But that was a morbid thought.

There was a hole in the wall within the room where they were that led to a cave. The Stormcloaks went in without hesitation yet Hamvir was reluctant. He was afraid that monsters dwelled there.

However, being left alone wasn't a pleasing option either. That is why he eventually chose to follow, navigating the short maze along with his friends until they arrived in another part of the keep through an archway.

It was a spacious room with square stone platforms connected to each other with a bridge. Water was pouring down from the walls next to every one of those, rushing between stones and joining into a river that streamed into a sewer. With edges outlined by wooden railings, the series of rectangular isles curled around the walls like a sleeping snake.

They paced to the end until they exited the chamber. However, they couldn't go forth because the path was barred. A raised drawbridge was before them, preventing them from continuing. Thankfully for them, there was a lever nearby.

Ralof pulled it and the string of planks that the bridge consisted of instantly lowered, allowing them safe passage to the other side. Yet as the two crossed it and emerged into a spacious chamber with another underground river, the ceiling behind them collapsed, blocking their eventual escape route.

"Not going back that way, now," the fair-haired Nord said and continued, entering the stream and wading through it as it led them both into a narrow tunnel. Yet it disconnected from the flow after decades of steps. They carried on nevertheless until Hamvir spotted something terrifying.

Cobwebs were covering the place completely, making him freeze in terror. Ralof didn't know that his comrade had been paralyzed in shock and went on, venturing into a sinister chamber where naturally formed columns were surrounded by thick spider webs. However, the most horrifying of it all were the enormous egg sacs that were scattered around. Those mucous-covered spheres were ruptured, hinting that the creatures that dwelt within were free to roam the caverns.

And indeed, they were there. Leaping from the ceiling and revealing themselves from behind dark corners and openings, a whole bunch of them lashed out at the unsuspecting warrior.

Hamvir was so frightened. He couldn't watch the scene, choosing to retreat slowly to the place where the river and the cavern pathway divided. There, he crouched, closed his eyes and covered them with his hands.

"Help!" Ralof desperately yelled for aid, but the coward wouldn't heed. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be poisoned by their deadly fangs. He didn't want to be paralyzed, dragged into a damp crevice by the evil beings, weaved into impermeable layers of spider silk. Being left in the void and unable to distinguish his own heartbeat from the ominous steps of the eight-legged horrors encroaching to feast upon him.

"Help me!" the fair-haired Nord screamed. But Hamvir couldn't do it. He was scared. Even though his eyes were closed shut, he could imagine how those monsters pinned Ralof to the ground and tore him apart limb from limb.

He was carried away by that vision for minutes until he finally woke up. There was silence. Deafening silence. It was frightening him. They must have killed the Stormcloak. But he couldn't move now. He couldn't open his eyes. He would surely see the creatures walking around him and he wouldn't contain his urge to scream.

Something touched him! Coldness itself grasped his shoulder!

"No!" he cried out like a little girl.

"Calm down, man," Ralof laughed, prompting Hamvir to rise up and open his eyes.

"What about the spiders? Are they dead?"

"Yes. I've taken care of them."

"Really?" he couldn't believe it.

"Really."

"But you... you yelled help! I thought they would kill you!"

"I could have used a hand, but it doesn't matter. We should continue and get out of here. We're almost at the end, I can feel it."

He was shaking out of fright, but he was convinced that Ralof was speaking the truth somehow. That is why he followed the Stormcloak through the spider lair, spotting those horrifying monsters dead and motionless.

He still shuddered though and wished to get out as soon as possible. Thankfully for him, he could sigh in relief. There was a narrow route that they took and left the place of terror far behind their backs.

They entered a vast room, meeting with the river again. It flowed across until it suddenly disappeared in the middle. Although the cavern was dreary, there was finally a hint of the surface.

Light shined through crevices on the ceiling in a not so distant section of the cave. Even though it seemed to be a reason to rejoice, there was something that halted his cheerful mood. A fearsome beast. A bear.

"Hold up. There's a..." Ralof crouched by the wall, whispering in order to keep the animal fast asleep.

Yet Hamvir was already out of his mind. He screamed in horror, waking the furred creature up. It didn't hesitate to rush to them, rising up on its hind legs before both men could have done anything.

It spread its arms and raised its head in a gesture of dominance, roaring so loudly that the echo ringed in their ears and almost ruptured their eardrums. However, the cowardly Nord wasn't going to stand there and wait until it attacked. He took to his heels.

He ran like mad, not ever stopping, not ever looking behind. He didn't know where he was going, but he hoped that the end was within reach. And it was true. There was a narrow opening through which light shined in.

His steps nearly led him outside, but then he heard a distant howl. It implied that the dragon was still on the loose. Realizing that he was trapped between two monsters, he could only remain and pray.

Minutes had passed and it was hard to tell how long he had been idling, but it didn't matter because his salvation reappeared. It was Ralof. His blue leather armour was ripped to pieces, his face and arms were covered in blood, but he was standing strong.

"Damn you, that almost cost me my life!" he shouted and suddenly lashed out at the coward.

"Wait! I'm your friend!" Hamvir tried to talk some sense to the fair-haired Nord, but it was pointless.

"Really? I was willing to put up with your cowardice, but this is simply too much!" he bellowed, swinging his axes around like a madman.

The craven didn't hesitate for even a single second. He rushed out of the cave without hesitation, finally witnessing the much awaited surface in all its glory. However, now was not the time to rejoice. He had to run for his life.

His clothes were a major hindrance though. With a crazed man chasing after him, he dropped the sword and grasped his pants with both hands so that he wouldn't trip over. Then he took to his heels.

Worse still, the dragon was flying around despite the fact that neither was paying attention to it. Hamvir was sprinting as fast as he could, but he eventually tumbled to the ground and couldn't prevent rolling along the furrowed terrain. He hit every bump, he felt every stone, but at least he disappeared from the road and blended with the environment.

That much couldn't be said for Ralof, however. The airborne beast swooped down on the unsuspecting Nord, grabbing him between its strong jaws and darting away beyond the mountains.

Hamvir survived. He couldn't believe it at first, but it was true. As soon as he managed to stop, he rose up and checked his scratches and bruises. It was nothing, he concluded before sighing out of relief.

He was safe. No headsman holding an axe above his head. No Imperial soldiers trying to plunge a sword into his chest. No spiders wishing to poison him. No bear intent on feeding him to its cubs. No dragon determined to tear him apart. And last but not least, no rebel wanting to kill him after all the ordeal.

He was free to do as he pleased. He was free to roam the lush plains of Skyrim. But what would he do with this newly gained liberty? The land wasn't particularly known for its hospitability. It was a mystery seemingly without solution, but perhaps there was an answer... Yet that leaves for a completely different tale.