Chapter 3: A Stranger in Skyrim
After waking up on the cavern floor once more, I had given up my hopes of waking up back home. My wounds were very much real, the injured man beside me was very much real, and the fact that I was somehow stuck in my video game was also very much real. I poked my head out of the tight cavern exit. Stars dotted the deep purple sky and a fresh layer of snow crunched beneath my feet. Several hours must have passed since we escaped the burning town. Alduin flew overhead, tail swaying in the trail of smoke. Although I was certainly no mountain man, I spent a great deal of my life outside, hunting and exploring in the wilderness with my older relatives on our farm. I was generally confident in my sense of time back home but here in Skyrim, guessing when sunrise would hit was literally a shot in the dark.
Again, I returned to Hadvar's side. His eyes were still closed. A deep wrinkle was set over his brow and every so often, his lips quivered. I turned his arm upward to see how much damage was left. The once black veins of his arm had returned to a healthy blue, barely visible underneath his thick pale skin. I fished another small bottle out of my bag, what I believed was another health potion. Pulling off the cork, I applied the thin liquid directly to his open wound, hoping it would work on contact so I didn't have to wake him. After recorking the bottle and resting it beside him, I dug through my bag, searching for something to dress the wound. My hand touched the stiff fabric of the robe Hadvar gave me earlier. I reached for my dagger, still sticky with bear blood and sliced a strip off the bottom of the robe. The least I could do was try to heal his arm. I doubted I could make it much worse anyway. After dressing Hadvar's wounds and rechecking that his breathing signs were normal, I exited the cave for the last time.
I pulled the remainder of the tattered robe over my head and smoothed it across my legs. Makeshift snowflakes of ash from the Helgen fires drifted onto the path in front of me. Aside from the lone torchbug that buzzed through the air, I was alone. The icy Skyrim winds were much more bearable inside of my robe. The scent of pine danced in the air, attempting to over throw the reminiscence of smoke. Above the mountain ahead, small rays of orange and yellow broke the dark sky. As I proceeded down the mountain road, the sound of the churning river grew louder. I wanted to enjoy the solitude. My surroundings were after all, breathtaking but so was the whole of the situation I was in. I was trapped in this beautiful nightmare where any minute a dragon or bear might rush upon me and claw me to pieces. Even the elk grazing near the river bed could be deadly. Perhaps I get to close and he pounds me to mash?
I decided that if I thought too hard about the fact that I was currently in a video game, I would eventually have a heart attack. I tried my hardest to focus on the sounds of the early morning forests and deny the panic building inside from making an appearance. Further up the road I could make out the shape of three large stones. I recognized them: Standing stones. More accurately, the Guardian stones. I approached them cautiously, making sure I came in no contact. I could hardly swing an axe if my life depended on it so no matter how much the warrior stone could help me, it would come into no use. The mages stone was simply out of the question given that I didn't know how to cast my way out of a paper bag. Were earthlings even capable of magic? I saw no reason to believe that there was any magicka flowing through my veins. The only benefit of my pathetically puny physique was that I could move silently with ease. The thief stone was the only reasonable choice I could think of. Once I could decipher there etching and engravements, I placed my hand to what I assumed was the thief stone. A green light encircled the perimeter of my hand, growing larger and larger until a beam of light shot through the clouds above. A tingling sensation spread throughout my body and lingered even after I returned my hand to my side.
I followed the path around the bend and eventually the sun had made a clear appearance in the blue sky as Riverwood finally came into view.
What the hell am I going to do here, I thought to myself upon passing through the wooden arch. I didn't know a soul in town. Actually, I 'knew' everyone here; it was me that nobody knew. As I entered the small town, a hooded figure emerged from the blacksmith's house, throwing a glance to each side before continuing down the steps and heading toward the exit of town. I quickened my pace. I hadn't ever seen a robed character in Riverwood before.
Who is that? He doesn't belong here… I thought to myself, quickening my pace. Soon I began to jog, eager to catch the tall figure that quickly turned on the edge town. My jog became a sprint as I passed the town entrance and the confused guards on watch.
What is he doing here? Had I forgotten something? Had I somehow changed the game?
"Wait!" I cried out, raising an arm with hopes to catch his attention. The figure stood on the bridge and turned to me, face shadowed by the overhanging hood. "Please, wait!"
A blow to my whole body knocked me down to the paved road. I picked myself up onto my hands and knees and looked towards the bridge but the figure was now gone.
"Whoa, lass! Whoa, I'm sorry! I didn't mean any harm" Ralof stood before me, shaking like a leaf. He held his hand out to help me up but as soon as I grabbed it I slipped back to floor again. My body went limp, finally realizing how exhausted it was after the past few hours of escaping from somewhere I shouldn't have even been in the first place. "I just-I recognized you from Helgen. I had to-"
"Oh, no, don't be. It's fine, really. I- I'm so glad you're home safe." I placed my hand against my head attempting to stabilize myself as I slowly rose to my feet. "I just got out myself. Wandered down the road and found myself here."
Here. The word echoed in my head after it left my lips which immidiately began to quiver. Soon tears tumbled down and streaked my cheeks. I involuntarily released a loud sob and then a gasp as I tried to cover my mouth and wipe my eyes. I felt my body giving way. I was out of Helgen, safe from the dragon and my own execution but what was I to do here with no skills and no where to go? It was out of the frying pan and into the fire. I looked up at Ralof, once nothing but pixels and now standing before me sculpted from flesh just like my own body. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed again. "I didn't mean to- I just don't know what to do."
Without any warning, Ralof pulled me up into a tight embrace, squeezing the air from my lungs. His stubble scraped my face before I slid down into his chest. The warmth of his body reminded me how I had just barely escaped a firey death and yet despite being squeezed in his arms, I had never felt more alone. I pressed my ear to his chest and listened as his heart raced just as mine. With tears still spilling from my eyes, I gladly returned his hug.
"My, my. By the time I finish with all of your hair the water will be cold!" Gerdur chirped, combing through the tangles of my wet sooty hair. "Most women don't even grow their hair past their shoulders here in Skyrim."
"I can see how it's more convenient that way," I admitted, cringing as the blonde Nord pulled at a knot in my hair. "Really, this isn't necessary. You're kind enough to allow me to stay in your home." After bumping into Ralof in the center of town, he led me to the edge of the river until I stopped crying. He told me that he had been staying with his sister since he escaped Helgen, which could only have been a few hours ago, and that I was more than welcome to join him until I had settled down from what we had just experienced. I gratefully accepted his offer, seeing how I had no other beter option. At least I would have a roof over my head while I sorted out a plan for how to proceed. He then led me back to his sister's house where we both could clean up.
"Oh, don't you worry. After what you did for Ralof and Ulfric, it is the least we can do. I just can't imagine what it must have been like for you to have to experience that. And at such a young age too." The woman continued her violent combing. "And not to mention you looked and smelled like a beggar when you walked in. In all honesty, I've always wanted to play big sister too." Gerdur smiled. I leaned my head back into the bowl as she poured water to rinse the last of the ash out of my brown locks. "The dress on the bed is for you. I'll let you wash yourself and change. Then we'll expect you for breakfast. I can only imagine you must be hungry. You and Ralof already told us of what happened at Helgen so if my son asks, you need not retell of such a tragedy. We will explain it to him later." Gerdur turned to the fire pit in her house and continued to stir the pot hanging on the spit. "You know, I almost didn't believe him..." Her voice trailed off as she lost herself in thought.
It was hard to believe the towel in my hand was once white after I finished washing. I slipped into the red and white dress and gave Gerdur my approval to let Ralof and Hod back inside.
"Ralof, please," Gerdur scolded as her brother shoveled a forkful of salmon into his mouth. "Wait till we are all seated."
Ralof sat at the end of the long table across from Gerdur. I took the seat closest to him. The room smelled absolutely amazing. I couldn't really remember the last time I had eaten. I could hardly remember what had happened yesterday before I woke up here.
"So tell us," Gerdur began, passing me a loaf of bread which I recieved eagerly "I don't believe you've told any of us your name."
I gave my plate a good long stare. My name? For second there I couldn't even remember.
"Come Lass. It can't be that bad." Ralof gave my shoulder a small nudge.
"Oh, my name. Leles." I said softly, Avoiding everyone's stares. "It's Leles."
"Hmm…" Came a small murmur from Hod, sipping from his tankard of mead. "You're a bit tall for a young Breton."
"Oh, haha, I am not a Breton." I laughed automatically, stabbing a cooked carrot. My smile dropped instantly as I gazed up to see everyone's eyes on me.
Stupid… A French sounding name, of course. It was only natural to assume I was Breton.
"Oh, hmm not a Redguard?" Hod asked.
I shook my head. My skin was very tan, but it wasn't quite the rich shade of brown seen on Redguards. Hod put his fork down and rested his chin on his fist.
"No? So from where do you hail?"
I figured that I should avoid the whole, "I am from earth and none of this is real. This is all a game and none of you even exist" but that left me in another bought of prolonged silence.
"Uh, I'm from Cyrodiil," I smiled at the three Nords, forgetting for a moment that I sat amongst Stormcloaks. Shit. "I'm an Imperial, just a dull Imperial." I cursed myself again. I knew absolutely nothing of Cyrodiil since the Oblivion crisis. I prayed they didn't question me further.
"Oh and which part?" Gerdur inquired. Perhaps they wished to know where my loyalties lied. I didn't even know where my loyalties lied. If anything, they lied back at home in my bed. If I ever got home, I would forever be faithful to that creaky mattress.
"I-in truth," I began, placing my fork down and smiling as cheerfully as I could. "My parents moved me from Cyrodiil at a very young age. They didn't want to raise me around such politics. I moved with my grandparents to their small farm far into the Abecean sea, closer to Hammerfell really." A half truth, I suppose. I did move away from my parents to live with my grandparents.
"Mhm…" Gerdur stared at Ralof across the table. The stare made me feel uneasy in my chair.
"That man you were chasing when I ran into you," Ralof coughed, goat leg in hand. "What is he to you?"
I stopped chewing and faced him. I shrugged my shoulders. "Do you know him?" I asked. The whole table glanced over.
"I -Not a clue. Who was he?"
"A stranger," I speared a thin potato "That's why I was chasing him."
The first night I spent in Skyrim passed by within a blink of the eye. All the stress my body was under made sleep an effortless endeavor, even if I was in a cave. Tonight, however, was a much different situation. I couldn't sleep not matter which way I tossed and turned. I just couldn't believe it. All my life I romanticized these video games, making up scenarios of how bad-ass it would be to live in Tamriel, but never before had I felt so scared and helpless. The more I thought, the more I felt tears building up and clouding my already dark vision.
How was I going to keep myself alive? How would I earn a living? Where would I stay? While Ralof's family was certainly kind to me, they wouldn't let me stay forever. From what they told me over dinner, these were certainly hard times in Skyrim. This land was very much alive and at war with itself. The roads were dangerous, money and food were scarce for the poorer villages. Gerdur and Hod had a small boy to raise too. I sighed and rolled over in my bedroll.
I wondered about my family back home. My poor grandparents were old. I hoped neither of them had a heart attack at the realization that I had not returned home in over 24 hours. I sobbed, attempting to remain quiet and muffle my noises with the blankets, at the image of their old wrinkled faces. I wondered if they had called my parents yet. I wonder how they would take the news. Eventually, my head began to throb and give way to the much needed sleep my body begged for. It didn't come easy, however. I had escaped Helgen and was now in Riverwood, following the natural path of the game or so it seemed. But what did that mean for me? Why was it that I found myself in Skyrim? I closed my eyes against the darkness, squeezing them forcefully shut as one last thought danced through my head before finally drifting off; Could I be the Dragonborn?
