Chapter 2: Riverwood

Outside you find yourself breathing in the air on a mountain slope witnessing the vast valley below. A calmness interrupted by a roar overhead. You look up to see the great black dragon flying away northwest.

"Looks like he's gone for good." Morte comes out of the shadows. "Maybe he found some hot dragon chicks!"

You roll your eyes, trying to stay on topic. "We need to clear out. I've got enough scars without either of those armies cutting me up."

"Got that right. I'm not sticking around for any of those lunatics to open my bone box. Come on, we're going to Riverwood. It's just down the hill and I know someone there. We can hide out for a bit."

"Fine let's get walking. Lead the way."

"Uh chief? No legs."

"I know. You should get them some time."

He snorts. "See? You can snark."

And so off you go. The dynamic duo. The outcasts. The newlyweds down the hill. You keep expecting to come across soldiers from the armies you just escaped, but are pretty lucky.

"So this lass Gerdur, she's a real stunner you know. Took me in while I was stuck out in the rain with a dislocated jaw. She was all modest and kind, but oh the way she was looking and touching. You could tell she was all up in this."

He looks back at you only to find your gaze focused on the mountain ruins.

"Oh come on! I'm talking about a smoking seductress, and you're into ruin gazing?"

"Hm? Oh yeah sounds lovely. So what's up there?"

"You need to get your priorities straight. That's Bleak falls Barrow. Some haunted ruins or whatnot."

"Haunted?"

"Yeah but don't take my word for it. I don't know much about it nor do I care to. I keep telling Gerdur to move out of its shadow, but no she's a stubborn one."

You press on along the creek, Morte continuing to babble about this woman you're about to meet whilst you straddle a fine line between listening and awareness of the surrounding territory. Eventually see a village up ahead with a lumber mill and a hotel.

"Looks like nobody knows yet," you comment.

Morte nods in response but looks around, lighting up when he sees a blonde woman with an apron working on the log saw.

"Gerdy!" He calls out, bobbling over while ignoring the astonished looks of townsfolk.

The woman in question looks up and sees him floating over. She in turn promptly walks over to him without a sound and smacks him so hard he falls to the ground.

He looks up at her disappointed. "I'm not sure I deserved that."

"You absolutely deserved that, you damned hound! Asking if you could get a ride with my girls!"

"Come on Gerdy. It was a compliment. They're very fine girls. They just need a man to-"

"Not another word!"

"Sounds like you did deserve that," you mutter. The woman, Gerdur you assume, looks at you finally and places her hand over her mouth.

"Mighty Talos! What happened to you? It's the skull isn't it? The leech, always living off the work of others until he's drunk his fill and then he leaves them to rot! Rotten bone box! Why I've half a mind to hand you over to the imperials right now and-"

"Already tried that. Didn't work out too well."

"What are you talking about? Spill it! Where have you been. And who is this cursed man?"

"In that order, Helgin, and he's a fellow prisoner originally destined for the block."

Seeing her mouth about to open in protest, you quickly move to intercept. "Hate to interrupt this touching reunion, but shouldn't we move this somewhere more private lest we cause panic and concern?"

She looks at you and the skull on the ground then shakes her head at the oddity of it all. And really, how can you blame her?

"Gerdy?"

"Oh all right. Hod! Over here! I need your help with something!"

A man working on the nearby logging mill looks over. "What is it woman? Sven dru- You!"

"Hi Hod. Gerdy still hanging around with you huh? I pity her"

The man walks over anger in his eyes and slaps Morte out of the air.

He rises back up shaking his head (aka himself) and stares at Hod.

"Not sure I deserved that either."

"You've got some nerve coming back skull. You and your," he pauses staring at you in shock, "bodyguard?"

"Yeah that's right big man! You'd better watch your mouth, or me and my new bodyguard will sock some sense into that mouth!"

"The hell, he'd do to you," Hod wondered aloud.

"Pff!" You stifle a laugh. "You think this little welp could do this to me?"

Morte stares at you angrily.

"I'm a prisoner from Helgen. I got caught by Imperials and wound up in the same carriage as him and Ulfric Stromcloak."

"Jarl Ulfric?"

"Over here. In private," his wife insists.

Ignoring everyone's stares, you head over to the river. Taking a seat on a stump finally after hours, you let out a sigh of relief. The couple meanwhile looks at you both expectantly waiting for this madness to make sense.

"Spill it. What's this about Helgen and Ulfric?"

Everyone continues to stare at you while you stare at Morte. After a bit, it becomes clear, you have no interest in being narrator.

Morte sighs. "Fine. Guess I'll narrate, you big lug."

"Well like the chief here said, we happened to be in the same carriage as the Stromcloaks. We were both at Darkwater Crossing and next thing I knew, Imperials are swarming us."

"Why would Jarl Ulfric be there at the same time as you?"

"No idea." Morte answered that a little too quickly you think. "I was just minding my own business and then I'm on a carriage to Helgen for my execution. Well, Ulfric's execution. We were along for the ride."

"Imperial swine. Wouldn't even give Jarl Ulfric a fair trial."

"Yeah I know. Poor guy." Morte brushes that aside. "But then. Just as this berk here is about to join me in the neckless club-" he pauses, his eyes widening.

"Yes? What?"

"Just pausing for dramatic effect. Anyway, his head's on the block. And then. Da da da dum! A dragon!"

Hod cackles while his wife's eyes widen. "The stories you come up with skull!"

"For once, he's not lying." Hod turns to you in shock.

"Hey! Whaddaya mean for once," barks Morte.

"You saw it? For real? A dragon?" Gerdur asks in shock.

"Yeah. Turns out all those stories told at the bars had some truth to them. And a good thing too. Without that dragon, I'd be rotting in some Thalmor dungeon. In all the chaos, we managed to fight our way out."

You snort. "I don't know about us. Pretty sure I did most of the fighting."

"I got that officer's throat! Well in any case, we made our way through some tunnels and here we are. Seems we got here ahead of the cavalry."

"It seems that way. No one's come up this road all day. Not eve- Oh Jarl Ulfric! Divine blessings, I hope he made it out."

"Don't you worry. Ulfric's too strong to for that. Why I'll bet he was on the front lines fighting that dragon with his bare hands!" Hod boasted.

"Oh I'm sure he wanted to Hod. But that might be difficult with only one and a half hands," Morte grinned.

"Enough with your cryptic nonsense skull. What do you mean?"

You decide now is the time to intervene, before things get any tenser. "Look, things are about to get crazy everywhere. I don't know what a dragon showing up means but I feel like we should do something."

Everyone stops and stares at you. Gerdur looks at her husband, then at the skull, then finally back at you.

"Yes of course, you're right. Skyrim must know." She pauses for a moment. The closest major town to here is Whiterun. It's the center of the continent. It must be warned."

She looks your body over then stares you in the face. "No disrespect, my friend. But it seems you know a thing or two about fighting and… pain."

She clears her throat awkwardly and continues talking. "The point is, it seems you can take care of yourself out there. Can you get a message to the Jarl of Whiterun? Tell them to fortify their defenses and prepare for the worst?"

You want to say no desperately. What little you remember of your old days doesn't paint you as a very altruistic kind of guy. Still you need an excuse to clear the area before the empire comes back. Plus as tough as you are, you doubt you can take on a dragon alone.

"Sure. What the hell. I'll give them a heads up."

"Great. And would you mind taking this pervert here with you," Gerdur gestured at Morte.

"Excuse m wha? But I thought we could spend the end times together, my dear!"

"She'll be spending it with me, you jackal! You can go off and die between someone else's legs!"

Morte sighs. "Alas, twas not meant to be my love. I suppose I am doomed for the open road and you are doomed to suffer and die in the shadow of this accursed mountain."

Gerdur places her hand over her face. "Enough Morte. It's over. You may spend the night to gather supplies for the road. But I want you gone first thing in the morning. Got it?"

"Fine. Come on chief. I'll show you the place."

You and Morte eat outside. Understandable as Gerdur probably doesn't want her family dinner sullied by the freakish duo. You eat in relative silence, except of course for Morte's grunts as he tries to eat without any hands. Looking at him, you wonder how he manages to stay afloat.

The bed you get is small, but warm and a welcome end to an immensely long day. Morte meanwhile gets what looks like a nest in a bowl. You snicker at his expense and with that let sleep take you.

And forget.

…

"Chief? Hey Chief! Wake up!"

You do wake up. To the voice of the… floating skull!?

"What the fuck!?"

"Yeah, what the fuck!? I forgot how the long the living need to sleep. I've been up for hours floating aro-"

"What are you?"

He/she/it stares at you. "I'm a fan of jokes chief. But jokes are usually funny."

"What's also funny are floating talking skulls acting as if that's normal."

"Well in a world with daedric lords, batshit magicians, and now apparently dragons, I'd say a skull is pretty normal, wouldn't you say?"

"Dragons? Dragons are extinct."

He/she/it stares hard at you again.

"You get into the skooma cabinet or something?"

"I'll ask you one more time skull. Who are you?"

"Uh, hello? Morte, the main man? Fellow prisoner from Helgen? Women want to be with him? Men want to be him?"

"Ha! If nothing else, you're always good for a laugh skull!" A blond-haired woman walks into the bedroom with a cup of tea. "Figured you'd want one of these before you hit the road. It's a about a day's march to Whiterun so you'd better start it with a clear head."

"Excuse me maam, but where am I, who are you, and since when can skulls float!?"

Gerdur looks at you confused then back at the skull.

"I got nothing," he/she/it says.

The next hour is the most bizarre you can ever recall. Of course you can't seem to recall much before you woke up. Except that woman in your dreams.

You listen to a bizarre tale of you, a dragon, an execution, and a skull. You have to interrupt numerous times when Morte as he calls himself (real cute you think) starts to go off about his heroics and how all the women were cheering him on. Morte! Morte! Morte! And to top it all off, you now had to travel with this psychopath?

"Seriously chief. How do you not remember this? You didn't bump your head in your sleep, did you?"

"No it's not that. This happens all the time. I just forget."

"Memory problems? Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"I forgot," you smile.

"Well then how have you gotten by this long?"

You pause for a moment. Now and then memories come back when you see something familiar. You look around and then notice…

"A journal. I had a journal. I wrote in it everyday." You look at the skull. "Have you seen one"

"No", the woman Gerdur spoke up. "You didn't have anything on you but what you brought from Helgen."

"Start a new one then chief. No big loss."

"No big loss except all the years of memories gone! Including maybe why I can't remember! A whole life forgotten!"

"Then start a new life." You look up to see Gerdur looking at you in concern. "From what I can see, your old life wasn't very grand. And we need you here in Skyrim to warn about the dragons. Whoever you were before, you are now in this fight."

Hod whistles. "Damn woman. Now I remember why I married you."

"You and me both," said Morte.

"Shut it!"

You debate a rebuttal but realize there's little other option now.

"Fine. I'll go warn your dirty city. But I'll need a new journal. Without it, we'll have this everyday."

"Everyday? Oh sweet Hermaeus."

Gerdur nods and grabs a little brown diary. Looking it over, you can't help but notice a faint smell.

"Is this blood?"

"Yes it has seen better days. But it should do the job. Just write down knowledge and make sure to look it over whenever possible."

"And if all else fails chief, just ask me! I'll be your best source of information any day! Just listen to my advice and you can't go wrong!"

You all give him that look.

You were meant to be gone by 8:00. But between your amnesia and Morte's verbal warfare with Hod. You were off by noon. Which meant a night in the dirt, while having to keep an eye out for Imperial soldiers.

"Goodbye Gerdur. If you ever get tired of this place and want a real man, send me a letter."

"Some advice sir," Gerdur turns to you. "Lose him as soon as possible. He's not worth it."

"Noted. Well guess we're off. Thank you."

"Good luck wherever your path takes you, um Nameless One."

Morte snorts. "Nameless One. I'll stick with chief."

"Apologies. I just realized I still don't know your name."

"If I ever find it," you turn away, "I'll let you know.