Chapter IV - Nord Hospitality

"Alright...al-almost there. Just a...just a little further."

"I think I'll return home after the fete...Or go out and visit Jesmond..."

"That-that sounds great, gods for a small thing - you weigh a ton."

"I don't think I've ever managed to shoot the target, ma'am...Just the outer rings."

"Oh yes. Well, I should tell you, I'm no "ma'am". Gods knows a woman could not carry you unless she had Orc blood in her!"

"Maybe, Gaius could help me with my marksman skills...? No, he's never in a good mood. The sun's shining so bright today."

"That it is. We should get you poisoned more often, I've learned more about you now than I probably ever will, Imperial."

"I was born in Cyrodiil. My mother doesn't like that...But she says my father had such a handsome shade to him, she couldn't resist. I wish I was blond..."

It was such for most of their journey to Riverwood. Fehn continued to babble on non-sensibly while Ralof puffed along the road with her on his back. They had been trudging along for most of the day, Ralof was beginning to worry that the poison would seep in further and end up killing the girl. Being an Imperial she'd built up absolutely no tolerance to frostbite venom like most of the inhabitants of Skyrim. He just hoped that Gerdur would have a potion lying around that the Imperial could have - and a bed where he could finally set her down. Finally reaching the outskirts of Riverwood, Ralof decided to take a breather for a moment before lugging on. Setting her down gently against a tree trunk, his brow knitted together as he placed a large hand on her forehead. She was as cold as ice and sweating like she was back in Cyrodiil. Silently she opened her eyes, dark circles had formed underneath them in the short time from Helgen to Riverwood. Her gaze drifted past him as her head lolled to the side.

"D'you think we'll reach the Capital soon?"

Ralof smiled, and shook his head. He'd been talking to her like she hadn't been talking gibberish the whole journey - gods knows why, he thought. If she didn't get a cure in her soon, she'd slip away to Sovngarde. Still smiling, he responded kindly,

"We've changed our plans, we're going to Skyrim."

Fehn smiled weakly, her dark skin was turning a sickly shade of gray,

"Oh, wonderful! I-I think I know a lady from Skyrim. She's bigger than I, but much kinder...She gave me a-a..."

She frowned at a loss for words,

"She, uh, she gave me some wine...Or-or a wine-scented drink? Who knows? But it was still good...I wonder where she is now. Don't tell me she's dead!"

Ralof chuckled,

"No, she's not. Come on. We're going to see her right now. Hopefully for you, she's got another wine-scented drink."

Fehn nodded happily, pointing at the Nord, she said,

"You're a kind man. Thanks for taking me all this way. How will you get back to Riften?"

Shaking his head, he hoisted the delirious girl up onto his back.

"If you want, you can take my Jesmond. She's a fat old thing, but father says it's the only horse I can ride..."

Ralof nodded, content to just listen to her chatter on. It was a good distraction from his own fatigue. It was dusk by the time they had reached Riverwood. Making his way around his sister's mill, Ralof placed Fehn down behind a bunch of sawn logs.

"Alright, you stay here, and try not to move around and make too much noise. I'll be back in a minute."

Shaking her head, she grabbed his cuiross. Her grip weak, she babbled,

"You don't have to y'know...I did this. I betrayed my family. You don't have to leave Cyrodiil if you don't want to. If you leave now...I'll understand."

Patting her hand impatiently, he repeated,

"I'll be back in a minute. Just hang tight, and don't fall asleep!"

With that be bounded off to the front of the mill looking for his sister, while Fehn sat by the logs. Watching the golden sky slowly turn crimson, Fehn blinked slowly. Reaching over, she plucked a blade of grass from the earth and murmured,

"I could fight a horde of ant-bandits with you."

She chuckled at the thought. Suddenly a small pair of feet entered her field of vision. Looking up, her glazed eyes fell on a little boy. His blond hair was pulled back behind his ears and he had a red tunic on. Gasping, she exclaimed,

"By the gods! You've aged backwards! How'd you do it?"

The boy cocked an eyebrow at her and stepped back. Taking in her livery, he noted she was Stormcloak, but she didn't look like a Nord. She didn't look well either.

"Frodner!"

The boy spun on his heel at his name being called. Fehn watched uninterested as a well-built Nord woman ran towards the boy. Standing beside him, both before Fehn, she eyed the poor girl. Fehn on the other hand gasped again as her wandering eyes widened,

"You must be a shape shifter! H-how are you doing that? You're not going to harvest my organs are you? You don't want to look like me, I have a scar and I'm not blond...You-you both have nice blond hair. You should stay looking like that."

Ralof came and stood by his sister, Gerdur and his nephew, Frodner.

"See, I told you. It's a bad case of frostbite venom poisoning."

With that Gerdur clicked her tongue - which reminded Fehn of Ralof. Watching as the older woman knelt before her, she placed a dirty hand on her forehead,

"Yes, you're right, brother. Alright, come. Get her into the house. I have just the potion. You two can lay-up here for a while."

Ralof bowed his head and said thickly,

"Thank you, Gerdur. I-I hate to put your family in danger..."

She cut him off, getting to her feet and allowing Ralof to gingerly pick up Fehn.

"Nonsense. Anything I can do to help. You let me deal with the Imperials."

Fehn's eyes widened,

"Don't stew me...I-I'm not ready to be stewed..."

Gerdur tossed a confused look at Ralof - who shrugged in return. With a smile she turned to her boy and placed a hand lovingly on his head,

"Foreigners."

Die

Fehn struggled against the Dragon's claws as it scooped her up and looked at her with it's gem-like eyes. Crushing her, it screamed loudly. The blue air smashed into her again and again. Screaming in the darkness, she heard his rumbling voice in her head,

You will die.

Shaking her head, she bellowed at the crowned beast,

"No! No! Not me!"

Punching it's claws with her inferior fists, she watched horrified as the Dragon inhaled deeply and shouted, deafening her,

FUSROHDA!

With a gasp she threw herself forward. Grimacing in pain as she did, she turned to find her injured shoulder bound in linen and the cut on her neck the same. Rubbing at her eyes, she noted that her vision was better. She was no longer donned in the Stormcloak cuiross, instead, she wore a plain dress of blue. One of the arms had been ripped in order for the bindings on her shoulder to be more comfortably fitted. Taking in her surroundings, she realized that she was in a house. With her free hand, she massaged her temple, the memory of her nightmare ravaged her mind. That Dragon, she thought, What does he want with me? Removing the fur hide which kept her warm, she swung her legs out of the bed and sat at the edge. Suddenly she heard muted whispers from the next room. She recognized Ralof's voice in no time, but she was unsure of the others. The first speaker - a woman, asked Ralof quietly,

"And what of her? You're bound to get into some sort of trouble with a morsel like that, Ralof. You should have heard some of the things she was babbling about while she was out."

Ralof sighed and answered just as quietly,

"I know, Gerdur. But...I don't know. She's new to this land, and anyone can see she's no danger. In fact, while the Dragon laid waste to Helgen, she was more of a liability until it finally stopped roaring."

Another man interjected, his voice thick with a Nord's accent,

"Don't be fooled by a pretty face, Ralof. She may look innocent enough, but she's got the look of Cyrodiil about her. We're Nords, we don't affiliate with traitorous milk-drinkers who sell their souls to elves like common whores."

"Hod! Be still yourself. Not in front of Frodner!"

Fehn heard as Hod guffawed and addressed his boy,

"Frodner, go'n back there and check on your ma's patient. See if she's alright."

With that, Fehn scampered back into the bed and quickly pulled the hides over her. Closing her eyes, she feigned sleep. Hod continued in hushed tones,

"Alright, so say she isn't an Imperial spy, what was she doing at the border? It's not like Imperial's live poor. She couldn't have been escaping poverty, not like the poor sods in Windhelm."

Fehn heard Gerdur sigh and respond with a hint of pity in her voice,

"I heard her say something about running from the army. From the Legion, Hod. I don't think even she - being poisoned - could carry on acting if she were a spy. Not in that state. Poor, child."

Ralof added, quietly,

"And when we were on our way over here, she was mumbling about Cyrodiil, about the Commander Maro's son, Gaius Maro. She also said something about "betraying her family". Who knows, maybe she's a Stormcloak spy? Why else would she be getting executed by Legionares alongside Stormcloaks?"

Fehn listened carefully as Hod sighed. She heard a wooden spoon tap on a pot and Frodner's muffled steps towards her,

"I don't know, son. All me and your sister are saying is to be careful. Imperial's are small and cunning like foxes. You have to be extra wary around the likes of them. If you think you can trust her, be it on you if - and when - she double crosses you."

Making a scene of stirring for the boy. Fehn's eyes fluttered open. Frodner ran back through to the adults and exclaimed,

"Ma! Da! She's okay, she's waking up!"

Gerdur smiled - a healers smile. It was always good when a patient pulled through, no matter who they were. Getting to her feet, she shot Ralof a quick inquisitive glance as he made to get to his feet too.

"And where do you think you're going?"

With a blank expression, Ralof shrugged and motioned towards the back of the house,

"I was just coming along to check..."

Gerdur cut him off,

"Oh, no, no, no, no. She's an injured girl, Ralof. I can't have you hovering around while she's abed. It's rude, and not to mention embarrassing for the girl. You stay here. I will bring you news of her health."

Defeated, he stared blankly as his sister departed around the corner where Fehn was recovering. He felt Hod's burly hand come down on one of his shoulders.

"Haha, you are the very picture of a second-born! Come, have some mead with me out in the yard. I want to talk to you anyway."

With that, Hod grabbed two tankards from the cupboard and led his brother-in-law outside.

Sitting up, Fehn eyed the woman who came towards her. She was an older woman of her late thirties - although she still had a pretty and youthful looking face. It was only her haggard hands and worry-lines that gave away her age. At once Fehn could see the resemblance to Ralof, the blond hair and blue eyes were dead giveaways, but Fehn guessed that Gerdur was born with the brains. She smiled a little sheepishly, while Gerdur sat at the edge of the bed and inquired softly,

"Well, you're finally awake. How do you feel?"

Nodding, Fehn smiled and said,

"Much better, thank you for patching me up...You're Gerdur, right?"

The older woman's brow raised at the question,

"How do you know that?"

Fehn quickly responded,

"Ralof mentioned you at Helgen. He said you ran the mill, and that you were his sister...That's all I remember."

The Nord woman chuckled heartily and said,

"That's all you need to know. I run the mill with my husband, Hod. Ralof's my younger brother. I try and look out for him and his friends. He brought you here within an inch of your life. I hope you're feeling better."

Again, Fehn nodded. Cradling her wounded shoulder, she thanked Gerdur again. The woman eyed Fehn's shoulder and asked,

"Ralof said you were attacked by a dragon. But on your shoulder there I treated an ice wound, do dragons breathe ice instead of fire now?"

Fehn shook her head, wincing at the pain that rattled up her shoulder,

"No...I was attacked by a necromancer down in Helgen keep. I wasn't paying attention as I should have and he managed to hit me with one of his cowardly spells. I got him in the end though."

Gerdur laughed again,

"Well at least you bested the filthy mage in the end. My brother says you have a good sword-arm. I thought I might enlist that arm once you're feeling a little more up to it?"

Fehn frowned,

"What'd you have in mind?"

Gerdur raised her hand and pointed in the direction of north,

"I'll need someone to deliver a message to the Jarl in Whiterun. Don't want any dragon's attacking Riverwood. We don't even have a wall! The Jarl will need to know what happened in Helgen and send some guards down here to help us protect our families. Of course you are welcome to stay here until you are back on your feet."

Fehn nodded and accepted Gerdur's request.

"Excellent! Now, let me know if there's anything else I can get you."

At that, Fehn could feel hunger claw at her belly. She hadn't ate in at least three days. She asked timidly,

"I wonder if...If I might have something to eat?"

Gerdur smiled and placed her hands on her hips,

"Food for the hungry, mead for the thirsty. I'll bring you something through."