The man in the iron helmet ran.

This is bad, he said to himself.

He jumped over fallen tree branches. He bulldozed any deer or wolf that got in his way.

His companion has been kidnapped, and he had to get her back no matter what. He never leaves a friend behind.

It was stupidly simple how it happened. They lured him with mead, snatched her, and got away on a horse. Lucky for him, the gang that kidnapped her accidentally dropped a journal that revealed where they were living.

There would be hell to pay.

Valtheim Towers

Lydia struggled with her wrists, trying to break free of the rope that held her hands behind her back, as she sat inside one of the twin structures of Valtheim Towers. In front of her was a bandit on guard, watching her intently in case she tries any tricks.

"It's no use, darling," said the bandit. "I ain't ever tied a knot that had ever been escaped in. When I get someone, they're locked with me. That's why they call me Lockjaw! Well that, and because of how I look, of course."

Lockjaw's teeth were all wooden, he had a peg leg, and his jaw seemed to be replaced with metal, hence the name. This was a man who has seen hundreds of battles, and have been injured more times than anyone can imagine. And with those injuries come fighting experience.

"Do you really think you can keep me here, Lockjaw?" Lydia asked, raising one eyebrow. "Because I saw you drop your journal. My thane will find me, and he's stronger than all of you combined."

"You can put on a brave face all you want. But the fact is, your little friend is gonna try to rescue you here, and he's gonna die to my men. Just look at what he has to face here," Lockjaw pointed out the door and at the bridge connecting the two towers of Valtheim. "Before he gets to you, your friend has to face the fiercest gang in the entire Whiterun Hold..."

Lockjaw began to describe his gang to Lydia. The gang was lined up at the bridge that connected the Valtheim towers. Positioned farthest from Lydia and Lockjaw was The Fencer, who was a former member of The Companions, and was one of their most skilled swordsmen, until he was kicked out for being too bloodthirsty.

Then, there were The Wolfpack Twins, famous among bandits for having unmatched synchronization in their movements, making it nearly impossible for them to be beaten by a single enemy.

After them was Ulfgar the Trickster, armed with a bow. He has a unique skill of being able to curve his arrows, making them very tricky to dodge or to block.

After him was Stard Iron-Club, the largest of the gang. He had a 10,000-septim bounty, and was infamous for killing everyone who crossed him, with only a single blow to the head with his spiked, iron club. His biceps were the size of a watermelon, and his club was twice the normal size.

"These men all work for me, Lydia," Lockjaw knelt down in front of the captive woman, and leveled his head with hers. "Your little friend... When he comes here, he's gonna fight my men." Lockjaw drew his face closer to Lydia. "And he's gonna die." Lockjaw's face drew closer and closer with every sentence. "You'll go back to being my slave. And you will never escape. Forever."

Lockjaw's face was only an inch away from Lydia's at this point. Lydia took this opportunity to give him a headbutt. Her head jerked forward and hit Lockjaw in the nose, making it drip blood. In his frustration that Lydia would dare try such a thing, Lockjaw hit her face with a backhand. "That was most unwise, Lydia!" He then punched her straight to the mouth. It was strong enough to make her lip bleed, but her teeth were tough enough to remain intact.

Lockjaw looked at his fist, which was bright red, as if he had just punched a concrete wall. Lydia's bones were tougher than he remembered. But she didn't have to know that. "You're lucky I don't want to ruin your pretty face, slave," he said as he glared at her. "But when your friend gets here, and we kill him? I'm gonna make you clean out the entire Valtheim Towers with your tongue. I'm gonna test the sharpness of all my swords and all my arrows on your hands. I'm gonna cut off your feet so that every time you need to go anywhere, you have to crawl like a dog. Before bedtime comes, ohhh the things I'm gonna do to you... You couldn't even begin to imagine." He then whacked her in the face with a backhand one more time for good measure.

"What is wrong with you, you sadistic fuck?!" Lydia exclaimed, her eyes welling up.

"Let's just say it's been a looooooong week..." Lockjaw faced upwards, recalling what had transpired with him and his gang. "First we had our den taken over by a bunch of redguards. Black motherfuckers led by a mercenary." He then went to his table, grabbed a mug of ale, and started chugging.

"Then, because of that, the Bandit Lord Greira the Spider said that her people will no longer be giving us protection. Said we were useless!" He threw his mug to the wall in frustration. The mug bounced back and fell to the ground, with a crack on the side that touched the wall. "Can you believe it? We're the fiercest gang in this Hold, and she's calling us useless?!"

"But things are turning around lately. We were able to take over this fort, and then I found you again, and I'm gonna get my sweet, sweet little slave back." He looked at Lydia with a devilish grin. The woman was holding back tears of uncontrollable rage.

"Aaaahhhh!"

There was suddenly a scream from outside of the tower that Lockjaw and Lydia were in. Lockjaw rushed to the door, looked out to the other side of the bridge, and saw him. Lydia's thane.

The man had a horned, iron helmet. Underneath the helmet was a neck-length, unkempt brown hair, a light stubble on his face, and eyes full of unbridled fury. He was a slight bit less than two meters tall, which was pretty normal for a Nord, but for a guy of this height, his body was huge. Judging by his looks, he was easily three hundred pounds of pure muscle.

To go along with his iron helmet, all his other gear were also iron. He wielded an iron shield, and an iron sword, and he was also wearing a pair of iron gauntlets and iron boots. His body armor was a chainmail; constructed of interlocking loops of iron, woven into a short-sleeved shirt. All the gear of this iron man looked to be finely made; the pieces of armor and shield were definitely polished in a workbench, and the sword had definitely seen a grindstone. Ordinarily, no normal bandit or citizen could afford that kind of gear, because iron is expensive, and so are smithing services. If Lockjaw had to guess, this man was a either a miner, a rich man, or a blacksmith himself.

Right next to the iron man laid a dead body. It was the body of The Fencer, the skilled ex-Companion member of Lockjaw's gang.

"What the fuck?!" Lockjaw shrieked. "I thought that guy was our best swordsman? Explain this!"

Stard Iron-Club, the gigantic brute who was closest to Lockjaw, was the one to answer. "This man is probably fifty pounds larger than The Fencer and is wearing iron, while the only "armor" you gave us are fur and animal hides. Seriously, we might as well just be wearing a tunic. It doesn't matter how skilled The Fencer is; he was at a severe disadvantage."

Stard folded his arms. "But don't worry. This is a long bridge, and there's still the Wolfpack Twins and Ulfgar. They should be able to beat him, or at least wear him down to let me crush him."

The Wolfpack twins glared at the iron man, one of them with a sword and one of them unarmed. The iron man raised his sword forward and alternately pointed the tip at them, to intimidate them from charging at him at the same time.

Wolfpack One suddenly pulled out a chain, which was hidden from inside the sleeve of his clothing. He wrapped the chain around the iron man's sword arm, and pulled as hard as he can to keep it from moving. Without needing to be ordered, Wolfpack Two immediately charged onto the iron man, confident that the sword won't swing at him. He raised his own axe, about to slash at the enemy, who raised his shield in defense. But the axe was a fake-out, and instead, Wolfpack Two grabbed hold of the iron man's other arm.

"Ulfgar, NOW!" the twins shouted.

The Twins have successfully disabled both of the attacker's arms. All that's left to do is for their archer to pierce his neck with an arrow.

Ulfgar the Trickster drew his bowstring back, and fired an arrow.

As it drew closer, the iron man suddenly lowered his head, and the arrow crashed and broke apart on his helmet. "Hah! Your arrow craftsmanship is pathetic!" he exclaimed, his voice mighty and loud.

And with the strength of his arms alone, he dragged the Wolfpack Twins all the way over the edge of the Valtheim Bridge. Though they resisted, the iron man's strength was too much, and they slid over and fell out of the bridge.

"Give me back my friend, you weak skeever-scats!" he shouted to the remaining bandits.

"Fuck! How strong is this guy?!" said Lockjaw in a panicked voice. This was more humiliating than their defeat at the hands of the Redguard mercenaries. Was the Bandit Lord Greira right about them? Were they really that useless?

In contrast to his boss, Stard Iron-Club had his arms crossed, and remained calm as he watched the fight.

The archer Ulfgar started to focus. This punk thinks he has this won? They didn't call him Ulfgar the Trickster for nothing.

The iron man then started to march forward, his shield covering his exposed mouth and neck area, which were the only vital spots not covered by his armor.

"Oh you think you're safe with that, do you?" Ulfgar asked smugly.

Ulfgar jumped to the air and spun around as he fired an arrow slightly to the side of his opponent. As the arrow flew past the iron man's side, it suddenly curved towards his neck.

At the last second, the iron man noticed the arrow trickery and ducked to avoid it. "Shit, what was that?" he said.

"Hah, you've never seen an arrow curve before?" Ulfgar said as he landed gracefully. "That's because I'm the only one in Tamriel who can do it!" He leaped and spun around again, and this time fired two arrows. Both of them curved around the shield once again.

The iron man ducked again to dodge one of the arrows, but the other one was fired a little lower, and was able to pierce him on his sword arm, which wasn't covered by his armor. "Agh!" he screamed.

Ulfgar jumped up again to do another arrow trickery.

"Okay, enough of that arrow bullshit," said the iron man before leaping forward like a saber cat, making an amazing jump twelve feet horizontally, and as he reached Ulfgar, he smashed down the archer's head with his iron shield. The archer was spiked straight down, and his face was planted into the bridge.

"Shit!" Lockjaw screamed from inside his tower. "Shit, shit, shit! That's fucking cheating! How can a guy that large be that agile?" He paced back and forth in front of Lydia, who had a smug smile on her face. "Iron-Club!" Lockjaw called out. "You had better take care of this!"

On the bridge, Stard Iron-Club crossed his arms as his eyes met with the attacker. The two Nord warriors stared at each other, sizing each other up, observing how the other looked. Stard definitely towered over the iron man, whose height only reached his shoulders. And it wasn't just height either; Stard's body was huge compared to the other warrior. To any outside observer, the iron man would stand no chance.

But Stard could see in the iron man's eyes that he had much more to offer than what he had shown so far.

The iron man pulled out the arrow that Ulfgar had lodged in his sword arm. He grunted and started bleeding profusely, so he took out a piece of bandage from the pouch in his waist, and wrapped up the wound. Stard just stood there and let him be.

Lydia, who was also watching the fight from the window of the tower, said Lockjaw, "Your henchman seems honorable, unlike you."

The gang leader laughed and replied, "That's because he's simply looking for a challenge. The possibility that there might be someone who can give him a good fight? He tends to get excited about that. He is a true Nord, after all. But I don't mind. Because so far, everyone who has ever fought him one-on-one had been killed."

Lockjaw took another mug of ale, chugged it down, and slammed the now-empty mug on the table. "In fact, my gang members come and go. The trickster? The wolfpack twins? They're like my third replacements already. But Stard? Ohhh that man never loses. He kills everyone in one hit. Your friend in the iron helmet here is gonna be no exception. Ha ha ha ha!"

"Are you ready?" Stard asked his opponent.

The iron man pointed his sword at the monster of a man he was gonna face, with a huge grin and a confident expression. "Are you?" he replied.

Stard picked up his massive, spiked Iron Club with one hand, and went to his stance. His unarmed left hand forward, his club-wielding right hand back.

The iron man's stance was opposite; his sword arm forward, and his shield arm back.

Then they began to dance.

Not a graceful dance, of course. Nords are brave, strong, and a lot of other things, but what the are not, is graceful. They are brutal and aggressive.

But as aggressive as they are, they also know that they have to be careful, because one clean hit could mean the end for both of them. So they play it safe. They swing their weapons with all the might and force one would expect from Nords, but at a distance. They watch each other's body language, see how they telegraph their movements, and avoid the opposing strikes with both agility and good footwork. Neither of them were letting themselves get hit, because the iron man was wielding a sword while Stard is wearing fur, which offered exactly zero protection and was basically just clothing. And on the other hand, although the iron man was wearing armor, Stard was wielding a gigantic club, and the force of his swings would basically ensure he does heavy damage even with an armored foe.

After a long series of whiffs from both fighters, Stard decided he had judged his opponent enough. The weakness of his opponent's stance was that the weapon is always pointed forward. It makes it hard for normal opponents to get close, but the iron man must be mad if he thinks Stard was a normal opponent. Because Stard can just grab the sword by the blade, ignoring any pain, and pull his opponent towards him.

He did exactly that, and as the iron man was pulled towards him, Stard swung his mighty club and hit the iron man straight to the temple. Even through the iron helmet, Lydia and Lockjaw thought it looked like a killing blow. The man's skull has got to be crushed after that.

The iron man staggered backwards and wobbled a bit, but surprisingly, his skull wasn't crushed. It might be his helmet, or his head's natural durability, but he remained conscious. He shook off the pain and stood firm and straight, and readied himself to continue the fight.

"That's impressive," Stard remarked. "This is the first time anyone has lived through a swing of my club."

The iron man was breathing heavily. "My helmet is pretty cool huh…? I actually... made it... myself..." the iron man replied.

"So you're a blacksmith. Too bad for you, I have your sword."

Stard showed the iron sword to his opponent, clutched by the blade in his bloody left hand, stolen from the owner in the midst of their fight. "You're weaponless now. You lost. Go back home. I'd like to fight you again when you're stronger."

"Not until I get Lydia back!" he said angrily, though he was short on breath. "If you think I've already lost here... Just because I don't have my weapon... You're seriously underestimating me."

"And what do you think you can do?" Stard asked, offended that this man still thinks he can win. "You can't take another hit. In fact..."

Stard threw the iron sword over the bridge to make sure his opponent can't get it back. It took a full two seconds for both of them to hear it splash on the river below the bridge. Then, Stard clutched his gigantic iron club with his two massive hands. "If you continue this foolishness, I'll make damn sure you won't survive."

"Two hands!" Lockjaw screamed. "This is the first time I've seen that brute use two hands! Do you see that, Lydia? One hand and your boy almost dies. With two hands, Stard is gonna fucking crush his skull to dust!"

Lydia remained silent and stone-faced as she watched.

"Last chance!" Stard warned.

"Come on!" the iron man replied confidently.

Stard charged forward at the iron man.

"FUS!"

The iron man roared as he summoned the power of The Voice. A power possessed only by those with great willpower and dedication. A power as great as that of the dragons.

The force he let out of his mouth flew at the speed of sound onto his opponent's unprotected face, and it hit like a small cannon. Blood spat out from Stard's nose as he stumbled backwards, no longer aware of where he was or what was happening. He fumbled and searched for something... anything to hold onto, just to remain standing. But in his moving around, he accidentally stepped off the edge of the bridge and fell down.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"

Screams were heard, both from Stard as he fell down, and from Lockjaw as he repeatedly slammed his fist on the table in anger.

"This is all your fault, Lydia!" he screamed, his voice a mixture of panic and rage. He did a vicious kick to the side of Lydia's head, making her fall down on her side. Immediately after, Lockjaw mounted on top of Lydia and pounded his fist into her head like a jackhammer. "You didn't tell me he could use The Voice! That was dirty, you fucking milk-drinker! I was having the worst week of my life! And you had to make it worse!"

Due to having her hands tied, and having been mounted on, Lydia couldn't defend herself. But she could endure. She always has. And Lockjaw wasn't quite so tough. Years and years of fighting led to him being injured so many times, destroying his own body, weakening him. His fists felt like they were made of glass right now. There really was such a thing as too much experience.

Lydia just closed her eyes and planned to let the blows come until the man gets tired.

Just a few seconds later, she heard Lockjaw make choking sounds, and the fists stopped coming.

She opened her eyes and saw her friend in the iron helmet clutching Lockjaw at his neck.

"Get your hands off of my friend," he demanded.

He then nonchalantly threw the gang leader out the window.

Without any bandits, the Valtheim Towers were quiet, especially at night. It was a place where one could lie down, relax, and just listen to nature. The sound of the river running below the bridge, the sound of the crickets chirping audibly in the grasses outside, and sometimes, the sounds of the wolves howling at the moons Masser and Secunda.

As Lydia laid down in a bed inside a tower, holding a bag of cold, cold, Skyrim water over her bruised and swollen head, she smiled as she soaked in the peaceful night that was gifted to her by The Divines after a long and stressful day.

In fact, this entire year had been a rollercoaster ride for her. She was a slave for Lockjaw's gang back when they were living in Swindler's Den, and then she managed to run away, and then she found work as a guard, and then a dragon attacks, and before she knew it she was the housecarl for the Thane of Whiterun, the man in the horned iron helmet. It had been a doozy.

It seemed like only yesterday when she was working for Lockjaw. She would sweep the floors, wash the dishes, clean the waste buckets, and get tied up and whipped when she forgets to do even one of those chores. She would get beaten with a chair for being too friendly with the henchmen. She would get beaten for seemingly no reason other than that Lockjaw was sadistic and took pleasure in seeing her in pain. She would sometimes attempt to take her own life, but the gang always kept an eye on her so she wouldn't do that. Death was freedom, and Lockjaw wouldn't have that. She was to be a slave for all of eternity.

But one day, when Swindler's Den was raided by a gang of rival bandits, Lockjaw and his men went all out in the battle. Stard was there destroying everyone he came across. About ten other gang members (who Lydia couldn't remember) were there too, But the numbers advantage were at the enemy. Eventually, Lockjaw's gang would prevail anyways, because they were good fighters. But when the battle was over, they would find that Lydia was no longer there.

Lydia would later make her way to Whiterun, where she would work various jobs. She chopped wood, hunted deer, sold pelts, delivered goods, and occasionally beat someone into intimidation (she didn't like it, but she needed money) and hunted down thieves and scammers. Nothing stable, and she was still living to serve, but at least she was out of Lockjaw's hands. Due to her experience as a slave, she was very disciplined and professional about everything, but it made her seem cold and unfriendly to the people around her.

Eventually, Proventus Avenicci, the steward of Jarl Balgruuf himself, would approach her, having heard of her exploits throughout Whiterun. He would give her a stable job as a Whiterun guard, stationed at the Cloud District. She would happily accept.

And during her service, she would still be strictly professional and aloof, and the other guards would consider her unfriendly, so as a result, she always she tended to be alone. She was fine with that. A lifetime of hell tends to make one have a much easier time being content with what they have.

Then a dragon would attack the Western Watchtower, where a visitor would heroically take down the dragon, and be hailed as the Thane of Whiterun. Lydia would be chosen as his housecarl, and she would accept the job without hesitation.

On the day she met the Thane of Whiterun, the man seemed to have no idea what was going on. So she respectfully described her duties to him. "The jarl has recognized you as a person of great importance. And as my thane, I'm sworn to your service. I'll guard you and all you own with my life."

But the thane shook his head in disapproval. "No, no, no. I want none of that crap!"

"Well, sorry, that's what it says on my job description. Do you not want my service? Because you don't have to-"

"Wait, wait. How about this? You forget about that servitude and guarding nonsense, and we can become friends instead? We can travel together as adventurers and go around the world. Maybe you can help me fulfill my goal?"

"Goal?"

"Yep. You'd better jot down this date so you can tell your grandchildren you've heard it here first! I'm gonna bring peace to Skyrim."

Lydia tried to hold back her laughter when she heard that. Skyrim was a place that was falling apart. There was a civil war that's driving everyone apart. And with the war thinning out all the soldiers, bandits were bolder than ever. Farms were being raided, travellers and traders were being mugged, food and other resources were getting more expensive, and more recently, dragons are roaming around... Skyrim was tearing itself apart from the inside. And this man, thisone man, thinks he can solve all of that? He must be insane.

But she remembered what he said earlier.

"We can become friends."

Friends.

After a lifetime of living only for herself, she never thought she'd have someone say this to her. This was a crazy guy who was gonna drag her around the world on some insanely dangerous adventures, probably trying to make peace with the bloodthirsty savages of Skyrim.

But the fact that he wanted to be her friend? She just couldn't refuse.

Maybe now that Lockjaw is gone, she could finally forget about these flashes of the past, and move forward with her life.

She was done recollecting how she got here. She shifted in her bed, and sat up. She looked out the window, at the night sky, and wondered what lies ahead for her.

From a distance, she could faintly hear the voice of her thane, cheering loudly and happily. The voice drew closer and closer, until she heard footsteps right by her.

"I found it, Lydia! My iron sword!" he cheerfully said.

"That's wonderful! It didn't get washed away by the river under the bridge, it seems!" Lydia replied.

"Heh, can you believe it? I found it stuck between some rocks by the side of the river. I guess ol' Alvor was right; when you put your heart and soul into your weapons, it'll never let you go."

"Is Alvor your smithing teacher, my thane?"

"Yeah, kind of. I worked at his forge when I was at Helgen after the dragon attack. Oh, and don't call me 'thane'. I told you, I don't do that whole formal... authority... power kind of crap. Just call me Erland."

Erland sat down by a table, and started pouring mead into a mug. Of course, they were all leftovers from when Lockjaw was running the towers, but the gang was gone, and a good mead must never ever be wasted.

"Why did you do it?" Lydia asked Erland. "Why did you risk your life for me? I'm not anyone special, and you barely know me."

Erland blinked, and then put his drink down.

"Well, to tell you the truth, it's because you're the first one who actually wanted to come with me. Everyone else turns me down when I say I wanna bring peace to Skyrim. It's like everyone has given up! No one believes in peace anymore!"

Lydia chuckled. Maybe he needed her as much as she needed him. After years of unwilling service to a cruel bandit, maybe this time, she has found someone whom she can swear loyalty and service to willingly. Even if he doesn't want it.

Her lips were still sore, her head was swollen, she was full of bruises, and it had generally been a stressful day. But she had never been happier in her life.

"Don't worry, my thane- I mean, Erland," Lydia said reassuringly. "If there's anyone who can bring peace to Skyrim, it's you."