Disclaimer: The character, places and events depicted in this story, are all owned by Bethesda. I only own the idea behind the story.
Chapter 2
The rocking and creaking of the wagon awoke Fengir. He had a splitting headache, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. But as his head cleared, he remembered.
He had just crossed the border to Skyrim, when he met a group of Aldmer. Justiciars, he believed they called themselves. They had started to question him, demanding to know who he was, what his business in Skyrim was, and if he was a worshiper of Talos.
Everything went well, that is, until one of the Thalmor saw that he was wearing an Elven shortsword. Apparently, it was forbidden for any non-mer to own an Elven weapon, so when they drew their weapons, he decided to leave.
Sure, he could kill them all in a matter of seconds, but such a display of power were sure to attract unwanted attention, and while a slaughter is fun, he'd prefer to celebrate his return to Skyrim with some cheese. As they slowly advanced towards him, he smiled at them and then ran into the woods. It all went very well, until he accidentally stumbled into the aftermath of a skirmish between the local branch of the Imperial Legion and a group of Nords wearing blue armour. As he came crashing out of the forest, the Legion soldiers closest to him had drawn their weapons and surrounded him.
Before he'd had a chance to explain himself, he'd felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, before the world turned black.
Chuckling to himself, Fengir couldn't help to see the similarities between his current situation and how his first adventure began 200 years earlier. As he sat up straight and opened his eyes, he heard a voice.
"Ah, you are finally awake!"
Looking around, Fengir located the one who had spoken to him.
"You came from the border, right? Ran right into that imperial ambush, just like us, and that thief over there."
The soldier who had spoken indicated towards another man, sitting next to him. The man threw the soldier a dirty look.
"Damn you, stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
He then turned towards Fengir.
"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."
Getting irritated, the driver looked back with a "Shut up back there".
Finding the situation immensely funny, Fengir let out a short laugh, drawing a confused look from the driver and his fellow passengers. Shaking his head, the thief turns his gaze towards the Nord sitting next to Fengir.
"What's wrong with him, huh?"
"Watch your tung! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
"Ulfric... The Jarl of Windhelm?! You're the leader of the rebellion, but if they've captured you... Oh, gods! Were are they taking us?!"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."
"No... This can't be happening, this isn't happening!"
"Hey... What village are you from, horsethief?"
"Why do you care?"
"A Nords last thoughts should be of his home."
"Rorikstead... I'm from Rorikstead."
The conversation was then interrupted by one of the guards.
"General Tullius, sire! The headsman is waiting!"
"Good, let's get this over with", answered the man riding in front of the column, before riding through the village gates.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines! Please, help me."
With a raised eyebrow, Fengir turned towards the thief, who had turned white and was now praying to all the gods he new. Looking away, the soldier spat in disgust, before throwing a glance at the general.
"Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And it seems that the Thalmor are with him. Damned elves, I bet they had something to do with this."
At those words, Fengir look over towards the general, and saw an Aldmer woman sitting on a horse next to him. She had an air of contempt around her, as if everyone else was beneath her. Fengir despised her after just one look, so he decided that he would cause as much mischief as possible for these 'Thalmor' during his stay in Skyrim.
As the wagons turned away from the gate, the soldier spoke again.
"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with Juniper berries mixed in... Heh, funny. When I was a boy, these imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe."
As they came around the main keep, Fengir could hear the comments of the onlookers. A child asked what was going on, to which his father told him to go back inside. Approaching a wall, an officer told the imperial soldiers to get the prisoners of the wagons. Sensing the wagon coming to a stop, the thief looked up with a scared look on his face.
"Why are we stopping?"
The soldier smirked before answering.
"Why do you think? It's the end of the line."
When the wagon had stopped, the soldier turned to Fengir.
"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the guards waiting for us."
"No, wait! We're not rebels!"
The thief was fast loosing his composure.
"Were's your courage, thief?"
"You've got to tell them, we weren't with you, this is a mistake!"
Jumping off the wagon, Fengir could only shake his head and smile at the thief, as he seemed to be only moments from pissing himself in fear. After landing on the ground, Fengir straighten his back as the female officer started barking orders.
"Step towards the block as we call your name! One a time!"
Sighing, the soldier mumbled to himself.
"The empire loves their damned lists."
One of the imperial soldiers steps forward, holding a ledger. Looking down into it, he calls out;
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
As the Jarl goes towards the block, the soldier addresses him.
"It's been a honor, Jarl Ulfric."
The next name to be called is Ralof of Riverwood, to which the soldier leaves the line to go towards the block.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
That name causes the thief to panic.
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"
Lokir takes of running, shouting that they're not gonna catch him. And, well, he's right. But the officer doesn't need to catch him. She just orders the archers on the walls to shoot him. Lokir only gets 50 feet, before an arrow takes him in the back, killing him instantly.
"Anyone else feel like running?"
The officer glares angrily at Fengir and the few prisoners who hasn't been called to the block yet. The soldier with the ledger turns towards Fengir, looks down into it and scowls before looking back up and ask confused; "Who... are you?"
Looking up from the ledger, Hadvar addressed the Nord standing in front of him. He looked like most Nords, with shoulder-length, light hair, and a slight beard. He was muscular built, with a broad chest and with scars from weapons crossing his arms. He stood some 6 feet tall and was dressed in leather armour.
But his face... Hadvar felt a slight chill as he looked into the Nords eyes. It was as if a fire burned deep inside them, giving them an almost fire-orange look. But what really made this Nord look almost daedric was his smile, as his mouth was locked in a half-smile, both joyous and sinister at the same time. No sane person should have that look when faced with his own execution.
"Oh, the name's Fengir."
Shaking his head to gather his thoughts, Hadvar looks down into the ledger again. There is no-one named Fengir listed there.
"Fengir, you say? By your looks and your name, I would say you're a Nord, but yours is an accent I've never heard before... Where are you from?"
"I was born in Whiterun, but I've been all over Tamriel for some years now. But I got bored, so I decided to return home for a while."
"You've chosen a bad time to return to Skyrim, kinsman."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I think it's the right time, since there are so many things to do here now."
The prisoner called Fengir breaks into a large grin, which makes Hadvar even more nervous. Turning to his commanding officer, he asks her.
"Captain, what shall we do? He's not on the list."
Having observed the entire exchange, the Captain is just as unnerved by Fengir as Hadvar is, so she just shakes her head.
"Forget the list. He goes to the block."
"By your orders Captain."
Turning back to Fengir, Hadvar looks at him apologetically.
"I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland."
"Don't worry, friend. I have a feeling I won't die for a long time yet."
Fengir gives Hadvar a last smile before making his way over to the group of prisoners gathered in front of the headsman's' block, leaving Hadvar who's looking even more unnerved after hearing that.
As he joined the other prisoners, General Tullius walked up to Ulfric and began to speak.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen calls you a hero, but a her doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war. Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire's gonna put you down, and restore the peace!"
As the general finished his speech, Fengir could hear the roars of a dragon in the distance. Smiling even wider, he could feel the threads of fate start to move as the prophecy of the Last Dragonborn was starting to unfurl. One of the guards seemed to have heard it as well, but when he asked what it was, no-one answered.
Returning to his place, General Tullius ordered the executions to begin. The female captain saluted and told the local priestess to give them their last rites. Turning her gaze and hands towards the sky, she began.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you..."
"For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with!"
A prisoner to the right of Fengir had become impatient, and interrupted the priestess as he walked over to the block.
"...As you wish."
The priestess simply shook her head and stepped back.
Standing in front of the executioner, the prisoner mocked the Imperials, claiming he didn't have all morning and that they should hurry up. The female captain walked up behind him and put her foot on his back, forcing him to kneel down and put his head on the block. Uttering his final words, the prisoner looked up on the executioner in defiance.
"My ancestors are smiling on me, imperials. Can you say the same?"
As the ax fell, decapitating the man, Fengir could hear curses and insults being thrown at both the prisoners and the imperials from the onlookers. After moving the body out of the way, the captain turned towards the prisoners and pointed on Fengir.
"Next, the Nord in the unmarked armour!"
As she said that, Fengir could once again hear the dragons roar as it came closer. And this time, most of the people could hear it too. As they looked around, trying to determine what had made that sound, there was a brief moment of confusion, before the captain spoke again.
"I said, the next prisoner!"
Walking towards the captain, Fengir smiled when he saw the black dragon appear from behind the mountains. The captain seemed to mistake his smile for something else, and looked a bit angry when she pushed him down on the block. As his head touched the block, the dragons roar could be heard for a third time. This time, everyone could hear it and the Legionnaires drew their weapons as they scanned the sky. As the executioner raised his ax, the dragon landed on the keep, causing him to turn around and drop it.
"Zu'u lost daal! Krumah, joor, ahrk motaas, fah Zu'u los Alduin!"*
As the Voice of the dragon shook the earth, Fengir rose to his feet and removed his bonds. The dragon, who he now knew was Alduin, the World-Eater, Shouted again, causing a rain of fireballs to fall from the skies. Feeling the Dragon Essence inside him stir, Fengir began to laugh, standing in the midst of dying men and burning buildings, while chaos spread through Helgen. A soldier standing nearby stared at him in terror, before a fireball engulfed him, causing him to run away in blind panic as the fire slowly killed him. After a few moments, Fengir noticed that he was alone on the courtyard, the prisoners and soldiers having fled in different directions.
Drawing upon his almost infinite supply of magicka, Fengir created a shield around himself before he slowly began walking towards the gates of Helgen. As he walked, he began to whistle a happy tune to himself, not stopping, even when his shield were hit by the fireballs. While passing a house, he saw an Imperial soldier, weapon drawn, gazing up into the sky, while a man and a child huddled behind him. Recognizing the soldier as the one who had spoken to him after he'd jumped off the wagon, Fengir turned and walked towards them.
"Now that was an interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say?"
His words cause the three persons in front of him to jump. The soldier quickly turned towards him, raising his sword, before he recognized Fengir.
"You?! How... How are you still alive?! This damned fire-rain killed almost everyone at the courtyard, yet you stand there as if nothing has happened! What kind of creature are you..."
The soldier took a step back from Fengir, fear, confusion and chock glinting in his eyes.
"Now, now, don't be rude. I simply used a magic shield to stop the fireballs from hitting me. Oh, and by the way, since you know my name, how about I get to know yours, eh?"
"...Hadvar. My name's Hadvar."
"Hadvar... Now, as much as I would enjoy standing here and chat all day, I think your friends would prefer to get to safety. So how about we leave?"
Looking over his shoulder, Hadvar saw that the man was holding the child close, which was crying and shaking in fear. Turning back to Fengir, he nodded.
Giving them a bright smile, Fengir turned around and waved them on.
"Now, now, come along. You'll feel better once we're out of here. And don't worry, you wont be hit by the fireballs, I've made sure of that."
Guiding the three survivors out of Helgen, Fengir walked towards the road to Riverwood, humming to himself. Once they'd reached the road, he turned towards Hadvar.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Hadvar simply shook his head, before turning towards the man and the boy to check up on them. Turning back to Fengir, he slowly began to relax.
"Thank you. If you hadn't come, we wouldn't have been able to leave Helgen alive. If you don't mind, could you do me one last favor? I need to make sure these two are safe before I do anything else, so if you could, could you warn Riverwood and Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun about the dragon? My uncle is the blacksmith in Riverwood, so if you tell him I sent you, he will help you any way he can."
"Hmm... Well, since I'm on my way to Whiterun anyway, sure, I can do that."
"Thank you. May the gods bless you."
Laughing at the thought of the Aedra blessing a Daedric Prince, Fengir turned around and waved his goodbye as he walked towards Riverwood.
After maybe 30 minutes of walk he heard a voice.
"Halt! Not a step closer, or I'll paint my sword with your blood!"
Looking up, he saw a female bandit standing not 30 feet away, holding an iron greatsword. Giving the bandit an evil smile, he took another step closer as he spoke.
"Now, I'm in a good mood right now, so I'll give you two option. Either you run away and stop being a bandit, or I'll rip out your intestines and strangle you with them!"
His mad smile clearly caused the bandit to stop and think, but greed won over her survival instinct.
"Ha! Tough words for a man without weapons!"
She lifted her sword and began to charge. Fengir just shook his head and paralyzed her with a spell. As she fell to the ground, mid-step, he walked up to her and stared down into her eyes.
"My dear, if you had listened to me, you could have lived a long and happy life, but you had to be greedy, didn't you? But, as I'm in a good mood, I'm going to be generous today and kill you quickly."
He smiled as he saw fear rise in her eyes. Gently, he took her head and kissed her forehead, before with a savage twist, breaking her neck, his daedric strength almost removing it from her body.
After searching her body and taking the gold she had had, he stood up and looked around.
"HASKILL!" he shouted.
A thin, breton man appeard next to him.
"You called, my lord?"
"Ah, there you are. I seem to have lost my sword, so if you could run along and get me my Akaviri blade, it would be good."
"Certainly, my lord. Anything else?"
"Yes, how is Freiyas soul fairing?"
"It's getting more and more stable, but it will take at least a mortal year before it is stable enough to survive on its own, and even longer before it can be sent to its rightful place."
"Good, good. Now go and get my sword, I have a dragon to slay."
"Of course, my lord."
Haskill disappeared for a few minutes, before returning with the blade Fengir had been given when he had joined the Blades after saving Martin Septim from the ruins of Kvatch. Strapping the blade to his side, he continued his walk towards Riverwood.
*Zu'u lost daal! Krumah, joor, ahrk motaas, fah Zu'u los Alduin!
Means "I have returned! Kneel, mortals, and cower, for I am Alduin!
I hope you people like this chapter. In the next chapter, Fengir will reach Riverwood, meet Delphine, Aela and Farkas, and explore Bleak Falls Barrow, among other things.